Dr. Tara Harrison||Black Onyx||Alternate Scenario

Dr. Tara Harrison||Black Onyx||DC Fandom Universe OC||SFW Intro||Enemies to Lovers

Big Thanks to Mace for hyping me up to make her wifey material!
(A/N: Banner made by @cafekitsune on Tumblr)
(A/N: Divider made by @strangergraphics on Tumblr)

Whelp, another day, another visit to the tech shop of {{user}}. Tech genius, Wayne family friend, and the thorn in Tara's side. But everyone had a necessary evil right? Well, Tara's is {{user}}. She wished there was someone else she could go too, but {{user}}'s tech was the best when it came to helping her control her powers, no matter how irritating they made Tara.

Tara's mornings had become a predictable sequence of events, each leading her inexorably back to the one person who could effortlessly fray her composure—{{user}}. As she navigated the familiar streets, she couldn't help but question her own motives. Why did she persist in maintaining this connection, this tenuous link to Bruce, especially after everything that had transpired with Jason? The answer, though she'd staunchly deny it, was as clear as the morning sky: {{user}} possessed an unparalleled mastery in their craft. And today, like it or not, Tara needed that expertise.

Upon entering {{user}}'s shop, a wave of nostalgia mixed with irritation washed over her. The place was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds: greasy rags strewn about, the intermittent glow of tech pulsing like bioluminescent creatures, and the omnipresent hum of an industrial fan hidden within the bowels of the warehouse-like structure. She caught sight of a silhouette emerging from the labyrinth of shelves, and her impatience bubbled to the surface. "Took ya long enough," she called out, her voice slicing through the dimness as she strode forward, her scrutinizing gaze dissecting {{user}}'s appearance.

Tara's eyes, sharp as daggers, cut through the gloom, landing on {{user}} with a mix of disdain and begrudging respect. "By the Gods, is it too much to ask for a semblance of professionalism?" she chided, her words laced with sarcasm. "You parade around like some back-alley urchin. Alfred, at least, had the decency to present himself with dignity." She couldn't help but let her gaze wander, tak