#just wanted to whip something up for Batman Day real quick!

[abisalli]

my loser malewife and his son

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who���s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[allnightbatman]

Batman X Reader

TRIGGER WARNING: SOME MENTIONS OF BLOOD/INJURY

A/n: Hello again! I am back trying to be consistent haha, but this is something I whipped up real quick so please let me know what you think or if you have any ideas you think I could do for future fics! Hope you’ll enjoy this quick story!

Word count: 1614

Putting his arm around your neck and your arm around his back, you allowed him to use your body as a crutch. Whatever little steps he could manage were helpful as you tried to get him back into the batmobile.

“God you’re heavier than you look, you know that?” You huffed out looking at a half conscious Batman.

Getting to the Batmobile “No doors…how in the hell do you even open this shit?” again addressing the wounded man nearly crushing you with his weight as you fought to stay upright.

*Identify Confirmed Y/N L/N*

“Don’t have to say it so loud, jeez.”

You struggled to get him in but nevertheless you did, playing around with the touchscreen on the dash you got to a setting to self drive back to ‘base’.

You were enjoying the ride till it took a turn and right in front of your eyes, a giant waterfall. You began to panic tapping at the screen then grabbed the wheel turning it away from the waterfall and slamming what you hoped to be the brakes.

When the vehicle stopped “What the fuck.” letting out a huge sigh of relief that you dodged that.

“You okay there big man? We almost just went through a waterfall! Your car’s GPS is definitely broken, ugh.”

He was somewhat half aware so you knew he could hear everything you said. You were just hoping he doesn’t remember too much.

“Go through.” He quietly gruffed out holding onto his hurting side.

“What?! Are you crazy? It’s a waterfall Batman.” You didn’t know if he was serious or if he just wanted you to put him out of his misery.

“Just trust me Y/N.”

“Okay, whatever you say I guess.”

Taking a breath you pressed the screen for the GPS/self driving system to take over again. You let go of the wheel and brakes.

“Oh fuck.” You didn’t even know how to drive this thing and you were about to go down in history as the person who killed Batman by driving right into a goddamn waterfall. Bracing yourself you hoped this car knew what it was doing, for all you knew it was gonna turn into a freaking boat.

Tightly shutting your eyes all you do is hear the thunderous sound of the heavy water falling over you. You didn’t crash, you didn’t dip, when nothing happened you peeked one eye open then both, seeing this enormous room with a movie theater size screen of a computer right in the middle.

“Wow.” Your eyes were popping out of you head scanning the whole room and all the things in it.

One of the things that stood out to you was the line up of all the different suits of Batman and his companions. That made you hope maybe one day you would be added there right along side them.

The top of the batmobile opened and you jumped out needing to take Batman out to tend to his injuries.

You grabbed the remote to a medical bed, lowering it, helping him lay down. He continued to groan in pain as you placed your hands over his that still held his side. Gently removing them to get a better look, you looked over at his sweating face, his eyes staring into yours. “It’s gonna be okay Batman I’m going to help you.” You tried to give some reassurance, not entirely sure how he was feeling at that moment.

You touched the torn amour around his deep wound, blood dripping from it.

“How am I gonna get this off of you?” Trying to stay calm as you were fine and he was the one injured but you had no idea what you were doing, just working your way one step at a time, trying to jump these hurdles coming your way.

“Hello Miss L/N.” You quickly turned around, jumping at the gentle voice appearing behind you.

Slouching your shoulders you relaxed a bit, hoping this someone could be of some help.

“Does everyone just know my name by now?”

The older British man chuckled at you. “Allow me to help?”

“Oh god yes please.” Remembering the reason you were even here in the first place.

Moving to the side to let the kinda man help, you still stayed there in case either of them needed anything.

“Is it alright?” The elderly man looked at Batman with a bit of a questioning look.

“It’s okay Alfred.” Batman replied breathlessly, weakly moving his head ‘yes’.

You were looking at both of them trying to figure out as to what they were talking about.

Alfred brought his hands up to Batman’s neck, the mask shifting while you were watching intensely, it felt wrong almost, you should be looking away.

Then he took it off…

It was the man in all the newspapers, magazines, social media, he was everywhere. Gothams playboy, Gothams golden boy, the richest man in Gotham, there were so many names for him but you never once thought out of Bruce Wayne’s many names, one of them would be Batman.

“Would you mind handing me a suture and IV kit, Miss L/N?”

“Uh yeah, sure.” Your mouth still hung open while you turned around searching through the cart full of medical supplies.

The image of his face kept replaying in your head as you started to connect the dots, the memories of his eyes under the mask, his lips, even his jawline. It was in front of you the whole time but you never gave much thought as to what his secret identity was. Being grateful to even have the privilege to be on Batman’s good side you didn’t want to betray that trust by trying to figure out his secret identity, you didn’t even want to ask.

“Miss L/N?” Alfred snapped you out of you trance, as you were staring at the items in your hands for awhile.

“I’m so sorry, here you go.”

Handing him the items he began to set up Bruce’s IV, at the same time instructing you how to take the top half of his suit off so his arm was available. As Alfred continued to set up things, you grabbed a towel lightly patting it on Bruce’s forehead and around his neck getting rid of some of the dirt and sweat building up.

“I’m just gonna clean your cut a bit, okay?” Starting to clean it, he hissed.

“I know I’m sorry.” You apologized hating you were making the pain worst but you knew he knew you had to do it.

When Alfred stepped back in front of Bruce you backed up once more but Bruce reached his hand out for you. It shocked you but you stayed letting him squeeze your hand.

“Everything’s okay, just relax.” His eyes began to get heavy, dropping, then closing shut and his grip on you loosening.

After helping Alfred get Bruce into bed you felt you should leave but he insisted you rest too. He fixed a room, not far from Bruce’s, for you and even got a change of clothes for you.

You felt so out of place, you were in the Wayne Manor and it was so big and fancy, yet you were grateful for being allowed to stay and not being kicked out, left to find your way home in the night.

The next morning you got up going to check on Bruce, knocking just in case he wasn’t awake and of course Alfred opened it, he let you in shutting the door behind him.

Cradling your arms together as you were a bit uncomfortable, in an apologetic tone you quietly spoke up, “Hey Batman.”

“Please call me Bruce from now on.”

“Okay Bruce…” it felt so weird but you didn’t mind, “so did he wake you up or did you get up on your own?” You laughed a hint trying not to be too awkward, it still being unbelievable seein him without the mask.

You had to admit he was already extremely attractive in the suit, you’d be lying if you didn’t have a “small crush” on him. But now you were being put into a tail spin of a stronger infatuation than before especially with him laying in bed half naked right in front of you.

He laughed a bit at your question then put his hands to his sides sitting up in bed. You instinctively grabbed for his arm helping him as he gave a grunt.

“Thank you.” You gave a hum in response.

He gestured at a chair by his bed and you sat down trying to look anywhere but at him.

“I hope you don’t mind knowing my secret.”

“Well you know mine so I guess it’s only fair.”

There was a moment of silence of both of you looking at each other, you were thinking of the events that happened last night and you’d bet he was doing the same. You became comfortable in the chair feeling at peace that everything was okay between the two of you.

“If you’d like to, you can stay here. Keeping you close could be very useful to me.”

“At least take a girl out to dinner first.” You let out a big laugh, instantly covering your mouth, your eyes getting big. “Did I just say that?” Still laughing at yourself not feeling too bad seeing Bruce’s amused face.

“I’ll take you out if you accept my offer.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Deal?”

“Deal.”

You kept your end of the deal moving in and the moment Bruce healed up he did too, the first thing he did was taking you out on that date.

[devilfic]

❝where two are joined, relentlessly❞

I. go, go, loverboy.

parts: next plot: gotham city’s bound to discover it’s got a prized bachelor on its hands. selina kyle got it, you got it, and you’d quite like if it stopped there, thanks. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader cw: flirting, humor, one-sided pining (or is it?), minor jealousy. words: 1.4k.

a/n: a little something quick I wrote after getting back from seeing the batman for the second time. battinson has been on my mind for the last five days... it’s getting real bad.

Bruce knows you’re there, but refuses to give you his attention even as you lean against his desk full of shiny computer screens. He’s watching something only he could possibly make out, but he’s been doing that ever since he got home six hours ago. You were of the opinion that he deserved a break. “So,” you drawl, watching the way his eyebrow twitches just slightly, “Selina Kyle, huh?”

Quick as a whip, your boss finally looks at you, glares at you, “Have you been snooping through my things again?”

You throw your hands up in surrender, “God as my witness, it wasn’t on purpose!” If Bruce believes you, he sure doesn’t look it. 

You were telling the truth, though. As Bruce Wayne’s (or, rather, Alfred Pennyworth’s) personal assistant, your work with Wayne Enterprises unfortunately crossed over with the Batman’s often. It had to eventually, as Alfred could only keep you in the dark for so long. You’d started as a mere errand-runner and ended up rubbing shoulders with the heir to one of the richest corporations this side of the eastern seaboard. That meant that the Batcave, as Alfred had so lovingly called it, was just as much your home as it was Batman’s. It wasn’t like you could ever find him in his actual home. Of course not.

“I just happened to see it on the desk when I came by to drop off this month’s financial statements this morning. Alfred said he wanted you to reconsider some properties here and there,” you tap the unopened manila folder by your hip, “and guess what happened to be right next to it?”

“So you were snooping.”

“I just happened to see it.”

“And read it.”

“Just what was in my line of sight.”

“What’s next? You’ll read my diary?” In a fit of annoyance, Bruce shuts off the recording and turns to you fully, the skin around his eyes marred with black residue. 

Feeling bad for teasing him when he was so clearly worked up, you nod, “Alright, you’re right. That wasn’t cool of me to do. If there’s anything you wanna tell me about your... night life, you’ll tell me to my face.” Though still irritated, Bruce looks somewhat appeased by your apology. “So who is she?” But that was short-lived. 

“She was a contact, someone who helped out on the Riddler case. That’s all.” Going even further, Bruce produces the same folder that you’d peeked on from before, fishing out a small, printed photo of the woman in question. You were struck instantly by the sharp upturn of her eyes, the strong lining of her jaw. Even though she looked pretty, she looked far from delicate. She kind of reminded you of a cat with the way her feline gaze arrested you in the photograph- or, rather, arrested Bruce. It looked like it was taken in the mirror, but no cellphone was in sight.

“She’s a stunner. Hope you didn’t scare her off.”

At that, Bruce chokes on a laugh, “I hardly think I’d have the power to do something like that. She can take care of herself. She is taking care of herself... in Blüdhaven.”

You hum, setting her picture beside her folder. Your eyes skim something about a Russian girl, a club, and a whole lot of cats. Bruce’s reports were always perfectly formal, but that wasn’t the case this time. He doesn’t stop you from reading on. Then, with a shocked squeal: “You kissed her?!”

A faint blush appears on Bruce’s cheeks as he turns away from you again, “She kissed me... twice.”

You choke on a half-thought when your chest twists. For a moment, you’re stunned, unsure what to call it, but it only gets clearer as it persists. Your eyes dart down to the pretty woman’s full lips and slim figure, and you imagine them pressed against Bruce in some shady alleyway (or maybe in a club, or maybe in her home). You wonder if it was romantic or steamy. 

A quick glance at Bruce’s lips and you put a name to the feeling that’s wrapped around your throat. “W-Wow. Not many people in Gotham have had the privilege.” You, painfully, not being one of them.

Bruce, ever so observant, catches the change in your voice instantly. His baby blues narrow in that way that tells you he’s trying to figure you out. Before he could interrogate you on your mood shift, you pick up the folder in its entirety and start parading around the cave with renewed vigor. “So she skipped town, huh? Were you that bad of a kisser?”

You can’t see his expression with the folder pressed so close to your face, but you can hear the hesitance in his voice as he speaks next, “It had nothing to do with me. It was personal. Gotham wasn’t good for her anymore... never was.”

Your eyes catch on the name “Falcone” and you shiver, “Shame. I hear Blüdhaven isn’t much nicer. Would’ve loved to meet her.” You’re sure if you did meet her, you’d probably wanna kiss her too. If the jealousy didn’t consume you, that was.

In the same moment that you find the folder snatched from you, you also find yourself being yanked back from the direction you were headed in, and it becomes clear as to why the second you catch your bearings.

The pit below the Batmobile lies in wait, ready to have claimed you as its unassuming victim had you taken one step further toward the edge. You didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if you had landed on any one of the tools lying around down there. 

“I let you down here because I expect you to behave. The least you could do is watch where you’re going.” Bruce has an ironclad grip around your waist holding you taut to his body and you feel his scolding tone travel down your spine where he’s touching you. More than that, you could smell him up close. The scent of Gotham’s unforgiving rain practically overwhelms you, partnered with his unfamiliar touch. You hate that you wonder, for only a moment, if this is how tight he held Selina when he- when she kissed him-

He releases you then, as if he could read your train of thought, and fully confiscates Selina’s file from you (perhaps for the better). You feel incredibly embarrassed, so unlike yourself. Perhaps your “little” crush on your boss wasn’t so little anymore. “I’m sorry. I should... probably go see if Alfred needs anything. I’ve bothered you enough.”

You almost trip over yourself trying to get to the elevator, calculating just how much alone time you now owed him to get that grumpy look off his face. So much for getting him to warm up to you.

You’re mere seconds from getting the gothic gate open when you hear Bruce call out your name. You whip around, eyes wide and waiting for another reprimand. Instead, you find Bruce standing rather awkwardly at his desk again, thumbing the corner of Selina’s folder and looking away from you the entire time. The silence stretches on for so long that you almost start to think you’d imagined him calling out to you.

Just as you’re about to ask if he’d spoken accidentally, he looks at you, “I never said you had to leave.”

Oh. “Are you sure? Don’t you have more Bat stuff to take care of? I don’t wanna distract you. Well, more than I already have.”

In response, Bruce pulls out a small stool from under the desk and rests it right beside himself, never taking a seat. “I could use a second opinion on something, actually. Been racking my brain about it for a few hours. If you don’t mind.”

Oh, wow. He’d never asked you something like that before. It was always Alfred coming to the rescue when the Batman needed help. 

Carefully, you make your way back over to the desk and take a seat on the modest stool, glancing over the contents he’d had splayed out on his desk. It looked complicated already, “Well, if you don’t mind giving me the SparkNotes version of events, I’ll try to be of service.” 

Bruce’s eyes flit from the ground to you, and you’re proud to hear him laugh. Even if it’s just a little one. “Afraid you can’t keep up?”

“Never, Mr. Wayne. How else would I have gotten this job?”

[fandomwriterstuff]

Rewind

Rick Flag x you

Rated T

~6.5k words (I could not turn it into chapters, it didn't work out right)

Warnings: canon typical violence

I highly recommend listening to this song because it is very epic and I listened to it while I wrote the dramatic end scene.

You were a petty thief, a modern Robin Hood; you stole from the one percent to gave to the needy. And you know what? More often than not, the one percenters never even noticed. And every time you got caught you used your powers to get out of the situation. However, you knew a day was coming when you wouldn’t be able to get out of a nasty situation. A feeling of dread was filling up your nightmares and seeping into your waking life. You were filled with anxiety that your next job would be your last. Of course, it was never an issue with your powers. That is, until it became an issue.

You were doing a job in Gotham, a shitty city if you did say so yourself. Nothing like the country home you grew up in. You knew the ins and outs of the city bank. You knew the guard schedules, you knew the camera angles, you knew the passcodes, you knew which day your target would be inside. Bruce Wayne. Local billionaire who wasted his time and money hosting galas for the rich and famous. You loathed the idea of him. He wouldn’t notice a couple million getting lost in the shuffle. You knew everything that Gotham City Bank had to offer. But what you didn’t know would get you caught and sent to a metahuman prison. What you didn’t know was why you’d been feeling the dread of this job creep up on you for weeks. You had a bad feeling about it, more than the rest. So when you walked in, in disguise, you thought nothing of the exhaustion and weakness that filled your body.

You’d barely slept the night before, so it was normal. And this wasn’t a cash job, it was all wire transfers. But Wayne had to be there for the biometrics to work. Unfortunately, he knew all about your little job. He knew and he had you caught. You were confused, at first, when all you saw when you walked in was an empty bank. It was just the tellers looking at you nervously, but there was a swish behind you and you whipped around, military training coming back to you from your brief time in the army as you took a fighting stance to see… the Batman?

“The Masked Marauder,” he mocked you in his autotuned voice. You scoffed, two could play at that game. You were posing as a man today, trying to throw the trail off of yourself. You turned on your voice modulator and laughed haughtily at him.

“The Batman. Fancy seeing you here,” you were unsure as to how Batman was involved with Wayne Enterprises, but you had no doubt he was there for you.

“Feeling a little weak yet? I can see you straining,” you were on guard as he approached you, coming close enough that you could see the stubble on his chin. If you could turn him around so you were closer to the doors you could use your powers to get out of there and make a quick escape. It was easier to change your own position with your powers and not an entire scene, but you could do it if need be.

But he was onto something. You did feel weak. You were tired, your limbs heavy.

“What did you do to me?” You asked, shifting on your feet but trying to keep the charade up. You were masked and cloaked, but he had a nerve-wracking effect on you.

“It’s new technology. Power blockers at every entrance. You’re powerless inside this place,” at his words you backed up, falling weakly towards the ground as your powers were seeping out of you. You tried to use them to get out of this situation, breath shaking and palms sweaty as the seriousness of the situation dawned on you. You were well and truly screwed.

It was only moments before the GCPD came and fixed you with a power-blocking collar, chaining you up in an armored vehicle and sending you on a long trip to Louisiana. You had no next of kin to notify, no friends to take care of your apartment. You were alone.

Belle Reve was a hell of a place. You were brought in under the cover of nightfall and were only given a brief explanation of the situation. You were in a metahuman prison. You had less rights than normal humans. You were being tried for multiple robberies and the associated injuries that people had gained when fighting back against you. You’d never killed anyone, not since the army, but it didn’t matter. The crimes had stacked up. You were looking at forty years in this place.

When they threw you into the cell you were going to stay in, you were relieved to see there was only one bed and it wasn’t occupied. Solitude, at least, was your friend. You could think. You’d have thought it would be less time in prison since you hadn’t killed anybody, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. You shrugged to yourself. It’s not that you had issues killing people, you were in a special metahuman unit in the army before you became the Masked Marauder. You had a different codename then, but working with them had made you a little crazy. You had to see your close friends and colleagues treated with less respect than dirt because of their metahuman status, and you had to see most of them killed in action. You barely made it out, and you came out with a raging hard on for disrespecting authority figures.

You were only in Belle Reve for six days before you met Harley Quinn.

“Live fast, die hard, baby. You gotta do what you gotta do,” was something you heard a lot out of her smirking mouth. If you were in another life, you’d have been instantly attracted to the beautiful blonde, but you had enough crazy in you to not want any more on your plate. Despite the lack of romance between the two of you, you still got close. “As thick as thieves,” Harley would say with a wry twist to her mouth. She loved puns.

“Chronos?” You whipped your head around at the sound of your military nickname. “What the fuck are you doing here you little slut?” Your eyes widened as you recognized one of your previous teammates. Another bad egg, turned away from the army and towards a life of crime.

“Who’s Chronos?” Harley frowned next to you at the lunch table you were at, she hated not knowing things.

“That’s what they used to call me,” you whispered, standing and facing the other woman. You were small in stature, and the Amazon-like woman towered over you.

“Annie,” you knew she hated being called by her real name. She was one of the cocky ones, thinking metahumans were better than regular old humans.

“You’re wrong,” another voice called. “Chronos is a dude,” that came from Blackguard, a weirdo that you were avoiding. You avoided most people, really.

“Chronos is not a dude,” Annie growled, suddenly looking at the smaller man. “You calling me a liar?”

“I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” Harley dug her fingers into your bicep and pulled you towards the rec yard.

“What’s up with you? You normally love people watching the fights,” you wondered, concerned when Harley passed her favorite guard without saying hi. (It was Colonel Flag, the fucking hottest guard at Belle Reve who you’d definitely formed a crush on. You couldn’t help it, he was compassionate and he didn’t spit on you or throw you around or humiliate you like the other guards.)

“You didn’t tell me you had a super secret past with a cool nickname,” she whisper-shouted when you got to a bench and she could slap you on the arm.

“It didn’t come up,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“What does Chronos even mean?” She asked and you were going to explain, but Colonel Flag sat down at the bench across from you with a warm smile.

“Harley, Y/N, just the two people I wanted to talk to,” he then raised an eyebrow at the bruising grip Harley had on your arm. She let go and he frowned at the angry half moon marks her nails had left there.

“Not now, Ricky,” Harley pouted. “Y/N’s been holding out on me! She has a cool secret life and never told me about it!”

“I doubt you ever asked,” he followed up in a deadpan way and you stifled a chuckle. It was true. She could be forgetful and also unobservant. She didn’t exactly ask you about your life a lot. You thought it might be an act, she did have a PhD, after all.

“She even has a cool nickname. What does Chronos even mean?” She asked again, but side-eyed Colonel Flag when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Chronos? I thought they called you the Masked Marauder. You’re in here for theft.”

“They must not tell you all the deets,” you raised your eyebrows at the man. “Before I was a criminal I was a part of an elite army group of metahumans. But that went to shit and I’m considered a war criminal in several countries. Never got the pardon for working as a part of the US military because they wanted to keep my unit under wraps,” you frowned. You couldn’t ever leave the country because of it.

“Well you’re not going to like the proposal I have for you, then,” he looked like he was regretting coming over to you and you threw a smile on your face.

“What do you need, Colonel?” You asked, tilting your head, but Harley was bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Oh! Task Force X? Is it a new mission?” She looked so excited you nearly didn’t listen to her words. But you did.

“Task Force X?” You asked him, narrowing his eyes. Maybe that’s why he was so nice to you all this time. He was buttering you up. “I don’t think so. I’m not dying today.”

“You get ten years off of your sentence for every mission you do-” You cut him off.

“You had me at ‘ten years off of your sentence.’ Say no more. I’m in,” you grinned, shark-like, at him. He had the wherewithal to not look confused at your sudden change of heart.

“It’s always fun, like weeding out the weak!” Harley exclaimed as you were ushered out of the briefing with Amanda Waller, a woman who terrified you and chilled you to your core. You felt okay though because Rick was going to be your commanding officer. It had been three weeks since your conversation with him outside in the rec area. Three weeks and your relationship had shifted just enough to make you feel safe in his capable hands. If it wasn’t the genuine human respect he gave you, or the dirty looks and reprimands he gave the guards who manhandled and mistreated you, it was the lingering fingers brushing against your back when he led you places and the warm smile he had just for you.

“Flag,” you smiled softly as you passed him on the plane.

“Chronos,” he smiled back. You knew it was commonplace to call each other by their names (Bloodsport, Blackguard, Chronos, etc), but you felt a twinge of fear. This was your first time using that codename on a real life mission since you left the army. But, when Rick came up with a fancy electronic screwdriver and unhooked your power-dampening collar, you felt such a high. You were ecstatic, your limbs felt light, you felt like you could go a million rounds against Mayweather, you wanted to fuck-

“Am I missing something? Isn’t Chronos a dude?” Blackguard asked, again, and you scowled.

“Chronos is a myth, man. This is clearly just someone with the same name, right?” Boomer nodded towards you and you gave him a tight grin. But before you could respond, Rick did.

“She’s definitely Chronos, and you better hope her powers aren’t mythical,” you grinned at that. He had your back. However, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to save them all if it all went to shit. For several reasons.

You hadn’t used your powers since arriving at Belle Reve, so you didn’t know if you were at 100%

You only had certain amount of power over large situations, so you’d likely only be able to save yourself and a few others

You didn’t care enough about these fuckers and they didn’t care about you. Your priority was to get out alive with Rick and Harley

That’s when Harley made her first appearance to the team. She was apparently good friends with Boomer and you mentally added him to your list to keep alive.

After you set off, things happened quickly for you. You made eye contact with Rick (yes, you were mentally calling him Rick now, because you wanted to fucking date the shit out of him), and made small talk with Harley as Blackguard freaked out about Weasel. But when you dropped and made your way to shore, you stuck close to Rick. He had your back and you had his.

As it turned out, Blackguard had set you all up, giving your location to the enemy and getting his face blown off for his efforts. You watched as your elite team of killers was picked off one by one. Harley had run off and you were panicking that you didn’t have an eye on her. You needed her to get out of this alive.

“Follow me!” Rick shouted, nodding his head towards his intended destination - the forest.

“But Harley and Boomer are-” you shut your mouth as Mongal’s actions finally took their toll on Boomer. But maybe you could fix it, if you could use your powers-

“No, we have to get out of here, or we’re next,” Rick grasped at your arm and dragged you into a full out sprint towards the forest, gunshots echoing behind you. You slapped his hand away once you were deep in the forest, though the sky was darkening you cut your eyes to his.

“Harley is all I have,” you spat.

“She’s my friend too, you know,” he frowned. You’d never used that tone on him before. “She can handle herself,” as much as you were loath to admit it, he was right. She was crazy but she could get out of nearly any situation. You sighed and bent over, hands on your knees as you calmed your breathing.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you muttered, but you gasped when a sudden pain shot through your right bicep.

“That was a warning shot,” you heard a voice call out in accented English.

“A warning shot?” Rick shouted as he crossed over to you, pulling you close to him and inspecting the wound. It went straight through, but it was bleeding badly. “Warning shots are supposed to be in the ground, not at people,” he spat, considering running but you were in too much pain and losing too much blood. “Don’t use your powers in front of them,” his lips brushed against your ear and you nodded imperceptibly. You wouldn’t want to show your hand.

“Take the colonel,” a woman’s voice called and you glanced at him, wide eyed as they dragged him off of you.

“Hey, hey!” He shouted, reaching out as you fell to your knees, putting pressure on your wound. If you could stifle the bleeding until they left you alone you could use your powers to fix it.

“Leave the girl,” the voice passed by you and you stared at Rick, panicking but unable to stop them as three men held him back and dragged him away. You couldn’t help but think this was the worst case scenario. The enemy was taking your leader but you had lost too much blood to put up a fight.

As the rest of the enemies passed you, you sat back on your heels, but one of them roughly bumped into you, making you lose your grip on your arm. The blood flow was back at full force and the world turned black around the edges. You were alone. You put your left hand face up in front of you, and your right hand an inch above it face down. Your hands were parallel to each other and you tried to gather your strength to use your powers, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t used them in so long and you had lost a lot of blood. The last thought you had before you lost consciousness was of Rick’s panicking face.

You awoke to gentle hands cleaning your wound with what you assumed was water and opened your eyes when you felt a tight bandage wrapping around your arm. It was a young girl, younger than you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she smiled softly.

“She’s awake?” A gruff voice came from behind you and you craned your neck to see a team of people behind you.

“Let’s get going then” another man said. “You patched her up, she can go on her own from here.”

“Who are you?” You asked the girl.

“We’re the Suicide Squad,” the dark skinned man growled. “Here to collect our Colonel.”

“No,” you sat up, quietly thanking the girl for patching you up. “I’m a part of the Suicide Squad,” you squinted in the early morning darkness. Was that… DuBois?

“Bloodsport?” You asked cautiously. Were these all other prisoners from Belle Reve?

“Who are you?” The guy in red and white asked you… Was that Peacemaker?

“They call me Chronos, but you might know me as the Masked Marauder,” you spoke cautiously.

“The thief? Why would they have a thief on a mission like this?” Peacemaker asked and you shrugged.

“My powers are useful for other things.”

“Chronos is a myth though, right?” A smaller man walked over to you, in a suit you didn’t recognize.

You shook your head. But that wasn’t the point, you had picked up on something DuBois had said.

“You’re looking for the Colonel?” You stood and approached the group, which apparently included a shark man.

“Yup, Colonel Flag was taken by enemies and is alive at their camp. He is our first mission,” DuBois spoke and you nodded.

“I’m coming with you. Colonel Flag helped me get out of the bloodbath at the beach. The enemy camp people shot me and took him away,” you frowned at the thought and the girl - Ratcatcher 2, she had specified - gasped.

“Why didn’t they take you, too?” She asked.

“I think they knew I wasn’t important. They noticed immediately that Flag was a military officer and took him away.” Likely to be tortured, you thought to yourself but didn’t say aloud.

“Well, let’s get going then,” Peacemaker said brightly and the group of you made your way to the enemy camp. You were lost in your thoughts on the way there. You weren’t sure whether or not you would kill anybody. Maybe hurt them or knock them out. You hadn’t killed since your time with the military. But they’d taken Rick and left you for dead. So you had very little qualms hurting them.

Turns out, it didn’t matter. Bloodsport and Peacemaker made what was almost a competition out of who could kill the most people in the sneakiest ways, but it got bloodier and bloodier as the rest of you approached the glowing tent. You heard laughter and glanced in, borrowed gun pointed in as you parted the flaps of the tent. But you immediately put your gun down. Rick was shirtless and all patched up, laughing with a woman who you’d seen the dark of the night before. You couldn’t help the rising feeling of jealousy, you’d never have that with Rick. The easy jokes, the equal ground. You were a prisoner, and you would likely die as one. But you couldn’t help the breathy “Rick,” that came out of your mouth when you realized that he was okay, and he wasn’t being tortured by enemies. He snapped his head over to you and stood.

“You’re okay,” he made his way over to you in three long strides, as if he couldn’t wait to be near you, and your heart swelled at the thought.

“So are you,” you whispered, and took a moment to look him over and let your body sag a little. You’d been so worked up that you had barely felt the pain of your wound.

“I didn’t know you were important to each other, I wouldn’t have let them shoot you,” the woman sort of apologized with a half smile and stood. “Let me get you something for the pain.”

It was then that she noticed the very silent camp, commented on it, and that’s when you looked down at your feet. Whoops, you’d let Bloodsport and Peacemaker kill an entire camp of rebels. People who were technically on your side. Waller had given you bad information.

Rick brushed a hand down your good arm and gently held you, pressing his thumb into your elbow as if making sure you were okay, that your pulse was strong.

“I was so worried,” he muttered, and you were sure only you heard it.

“So was I,” you looked up into his eyes, and if there wasn’t an audience, you would have kissed him then and there. Alas, you had another mission. Well, two. The first was to get the Thinker. The second one was to get Harley, and that was a plan you were ready for. You were down to clown, as Harley might say. As long as you had Rick by your side, you could do anything you set your minds to.

The Thinker would be frequenting one of his favorite bars, and as you left the shark dude in the bus you felt yourself relaxing a little upon entry. You knew bars. You knew how to blend in. You glanced over your shoulder, you couldn’t say the same for your teammates. So, you slinked away and found your way to the bar. The leader of the rebel camp provided you with a pair of stretchy black skinny jeans and a MCR band t-shirt. You’d fought harder battles in more confined clothing, so this wasn’t too bad.

“Una cerveza, por favor,” you spoke fluently. You grew up in the country, but your family was affluent and taught you several languages so that you could travel safely and easily.

The bartender smiled and grabbed you a bottle, and you watched the team gather around a table. They stuck out horribly, and you shook your head. Maybe with a few drinks in them they would loosen up, you watched as Peacemaker ordered drinks and nursed your own. You used to like drinking with friends, but other than Rick (and the missing Harley) you didn’t consider these people your friends. You had a tentative relationship with the Ratcatcher 2, and you were beginning to begrudgingly like Bloodsport. But, Polka-Dot Man freaked you out, Nanaue had the English understanding of a kindergartener, and Peacemaker was a dick.

“You going to join the team?” You failed to notice Rick coming over to you, and rolled your eyes, taking a sip as you mulled over your answer.

“Only if they start looking more interesting. You look like a bunch of tourists. I’d like to gather intel,” you scrunched up your nose at Rick and sipped at your beer.

“Yeah, you really look like you’re gathering intel, darlin’,” it was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sitting here, sipping on a beer and staring at us.”

You scoffed. How dare he call you out. But it was true, you were busy judging the team to actually get any good information.

“Fine, I’ll join you,” you swigged the last of your beer and glanced at the bartender. “¡Uno más!” You exclaimed, and the man smiled at you before grabbing you another ice cold bottle.

“You speak Spanish?” Rick raised an eyebrow at you.

“I speak a lot of languages,” you shrugged and took a swig of the drink before making your way to the now empty table. It seemed like your compatriots decided to go dancing. That left you with Rick.

“Oh yeah, and how did you come to know so many?” He seemed genuinely interested, though you were hesitant to talk about your past.

“My parents were diplomats and wanted me to be able to travel with them, so they had me learn Spanish, French, German, and Russian by the best tutors money could offer,” you shrugged, sort of stilted, at his curious glance.

“And I thought you were a thief because you were poor,” he shook his head with a smile. “Waller has very little info on you so I wasn’t sure.”

“My parents were cruel, and utilized their money to help bad people get into power,” you looked down at your lap. “I resent the things they taught me. And I tried my best to right the wrongs that people like them did.”

Rick sobered up and placed a hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he frowned and brushed his thumb over your skin. “I knew a little bit about your thievery and who you robbed and why, but it makes sense now. You were trying to help. I get it,” he sighed and took a sip of his drink while you downed yours. You hated talking about your family. You wanted to move on to something else. Anything else.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” you sighed, brushing your hair out of your face and looking up into those beautiful eyes.

“What would you like to talk about then?” he whispered, not willing to break the reverie you were in. You were close, closer than you should be.

“I want to talk about you, Colonel,” you smirked and placed a delicate hand on his thigh. He dragged his eyes from that hand slowly up to your face.

“What do you wanna know, beautiful?” He smirked and blinked those pretty eyes at you. You’d both had too much to drink. It was a little scary making the first move, but you found him incredibly attractive and you were 99% sure he returned your feelings.

“I want to know,” you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “What those lips would feel like against mine,” you wondered aloud, and his sharp inhale was all you had to go on before a gentle hand was turning your face to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative even, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted everything that Rick Flag could give you and you tightened your grip on his thigh, hoping to convey your thoughts, when everything went to shit. Peacemaker jerked Rick away from you and Cleo pulled you towards a darkened corner of the room.

“They’re asking for IDs,” she hissed, pulling you towards where you saw Abner had the Thinker.

“But what about-” she shushed you as you glanced back, making strained eye contact with Rick. Maybe you could use your powers to get out of this. But… You looked at the Thinker. This was the mission. You looked back at Rick. Would you get your brains blown out to save him?

You made your way to the exit, finding your way to the van and getting out of there. You were only vaguely paying attention while you were in pursuit of the truck holding your … friends? You panicked for a moment when it crashed, and when you pulled to a stop you sprinted out of the van and over to the fiery wreckage, thoughts racing about what could have happened to Rick when he, Bloodsport, and Peacemaker burst through the doors like some sort of boy band.

You couldn’t care less though as you threw yourself into his surprised arms and pressed your lips to his.

“That was stressful and I didn’t like it,” you muttered against his lips, barely noticing Bloodsport rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Rick smiled and pulled away to look down at you. “This is pretty nice.”

You scoffed and grabbed at his hand, not willing to let go just yet, and dragged him to your vehicle.

“Shut it,” you muttered as you all gathered. All he responded with was a light chuckle.

Your next mission was saving Harley, but as it turned out, she was no damsel. You were on your way into the place she was being held when she walked down the street towards you.

“Hey, guys! Whatcha doin?” She was smiling brightly and you rolled your eyes at the situation before hugging her.

“We’re here to save you, obviously,” you muttered and she looked from you over your shoulder to Rick.

“You came back for me?” She whispered and Rick came over to you, Bloodsport rolling his eyes in the background.

“Yeah, it was a really good plan, too,” Rick muttered, but still hugged back when Harley threw herself into his arms.

“Well I can go back in and let you save me,” she offered and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not necessary, Harley. Now that we have you we can get back to the mission,” you patted her on the back and nodded to the rest of your team.

Now, you could say that you acted heroically and saved the day, but you and your ragtag team… You were amateur heroes. It was a shitshow. You were setting up explosives with Nanaue when you had that bad feeling again. The one you had when you were going into that bank in Gotham. Maybe it was your intuition, but you knew some shit was about to go down.

“Keep at it!” You shouted at the King Shark and raced your way down the stairs to where Peacemaker and Rick were headed. If you remembered their part of the plan correctly, they were with the Thinker, but something went wrong when you were about halfway down.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you heard a great BOOM. They’d set off the explosives too early. Maybe you should have stayed… You looked up at the dust coming down from above. Your brain was telling you to get out before the building collapsed on you, but your gut was telling you to make it to Rick.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you chanted as you raced down the stairwell, crumbling concrete raining down as you danced around to avoid it. Your stomach cramped in warning, and you crouched into a ball as the floor beneath you gave out and you fell several floors. When your falling came to a halt you took stock. There was rubble above you, but not crushing you. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced as you clawed your way towards the fluorescent lighting. You grunted and groaned as your fingernails cracked and your fingers bloodied, but you were not about to die here.

You crawled out into the open and peered through the dark, dusty hallway. You didn’t see anybody, but you heard a scuffle and made your way towards the grunting and smashing sounds. The alarm bells started going off in your brain again, and you started running. Your feet pounded against the jagged edges of concrete on the ground but you didn’t stop. You whipped your pistol out when you came to the source of the sounds, but you froze.

Your eyes took in the scene very quickly, and you knew there was a decision to be made. You saw Cleo’s figure in the dark corner, eyes shining in the dusty haze. The others hadn’t seen her yet. At first glance, Rick was atop Peacemaker, and your initial thought was that he was winning this fight. But his eyes, wide and shocked, locked onto yours for merely a moment before he collapsed forward, a dead weight, and all of your breath left your body.

You also saw Peacemaker’s eyes shoot to a computer chip that had scattered across the floor right before you came in. Right before they shot over to you.

But you knew this: Peacemaker didn’t know who you were. He had no clue what you were capable of. He roughly pushed Rick’s body off of himself, but you were faster.

You put your hands in front of you, parallel to each other, and green mist started swirling around between them. You hadn’t had to use your powers to alter a scene this big or intense before, usually just using them on your own body, but you could do this. For Rick.

Suddenly everything slowed down, Peacemaker was still lying on the ground, Rick was face-first in the rubble, and Cleo was crouched in the dark, hand reaching out to the chip.

But you were alive as your powers raced through you. You had seen yourself in a mirror once as you used your powers, and you could imagine how you looked to them. Glowing green veins covered your skin as you altered the fabric of the universe itself. A wind picked up in the room, swirling in tandem with the green mist in your hands. You only needed a few moments. You didn’t need to go back and stop the fight, you just had to stop Peacemaker. You contorted your fingers and molded the green mist to your liking before throwing your arms wide, the green mist expanding to encapsulate yourself and the two men. You didn’t need to include Cleo, she wasn’t involved. The wind whipped around, the green mist blinding everyone but you, and things started to go into motion.

It would all happen very quickly for everyone involved. Just a rewind. But for you, you had to painstakingly watch as Rick’s body rose above Peacemaker, and you had to watch as the ceramic in his heart was drawn out. You had handcrafted this reality and you were forced to watch as your handiwork took place. But you had gotten to the moment you needed. They were near the end of the fight, Peacemaker had slammed Rick into a wall, and with a wave of your hand, the mist disappeared and everything was clear.

“Wait, what?” Peacemaker shot his eyes over to you, but he was too slow in his understanding. You had already whipped your pistol out of its holster and shot him twice in the throat. He grasped at his, trying to stifle the bleeding and crumpling to the ground, but your eyes were focused on Rick. A very shocked, but very alive Rick.

“What did you do?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if that was disgust or wonder in his voice, so you turned, walked slowly over to Cleo (who had witnessed the whole thing through a haze of green), and picked up the chip.

“I believe you were looking for this?” You asked, holding it out in front of yourself to him. He gulped, walking over to you, but your strength was draining from with a display of your powers. When he pulled the chip out of your hand and tucked it into your utility belt, you wavered, edges of your vision darkening as you slowly knelt to the ground.

“What are you doing, we need to get out of here?” Cleo shouted at you, but you waved her off.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“No you don’t,” Rick hauled you up by your armpits and lifted you into his arms, princess-style. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered and followed Cleo out of the rubble and into the daylight. You squinted, the bright sun blinding you after being underground for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, shoving your face into Rick’s neck to avoid the light.

“So,” he sounded very casual and you tensed up. “I really thought you weren’t going to use your rewind powers at all, what happened to make you use them?” You bit your lip, not sure what to say.

“Peacemaker killed you,” Cleo answered for you and Rick stopped walking. You winced and looked up at his face.

“I panicked,” you whispered, not sure how he was going to react. But when he turned his head to face you, it was as if he was looking at you for the first time.

“You saved my life?” He asked and it was your turn to gulp.

Okay, so maybe you had feelings for Rick. You knew that. He was a hot piece of ass, and he was kind, and he respected you. And you kissed at the bar and after the van chase. So he definitely knew you liked him. But did he know your feelings were deep enough to save his life and endanger your own in the process? Well… Now he did.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to lose you to that prick,” you tried to shrug it off, but Rick gently let your legs fall and your feet touch the ground. You weren’t sure what was happening until he reached out and pulled you into the warmest, most all-encompassing hug you had ever experienced.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, and you let yourself sigh and sink into the hug.

“Yeah well now you owe me one,” you muttered jokingly, trying to slightly ease the seriousness of the situation. He squeezed you tightly once more before pulling away and smirking.

“Anything you want, you can have,” he smiled that sunlight-bright smile at you and you blinked at him once before returning his smile.

“You can take me on a date once I’m out of prison, how does that sound?” You asked and his smile widened.

“I can do that.”

“That might be a lot sooner than you think,” Bloodsport had walked over to you and (you assumed) Cleo had explained everything to him. You blinked.

What did he mean by that?

Apparently he meant he was going to threaten Waller and keep the information hostage. It wasn’t exactly what Rick wanted, but he got out with his life, and you didn’t have to go back to prison. You were thinking about it as you settled into your new apartment, only two weeks after fighting Starro and killing Peacemaker, your first kill in years.

You were sitting on your comfy couch watching reruns of Adventure Time when Rick called you.

“Hey,” you answered warmly, and smiled at his voice when he responded.

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” You drew a blanket over your lap and muted the TV.

“Just relaxing. What’s up with you?”

“I was thinking, how about I take you on that date tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?” If your instincts were correct, and they usually were, he was nervous about it. He was unsure you would actually want him, considering how sheltered and uneven your relationship had been before. You were quick to dispel that.

“That sounds lovely, Rick,” you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation when he hung up a few minutes later. You also couldn’t help the excited squeal you let out and the little dance you did. Things were finally falling into place.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Of Mice and Men

AYO back with day 5 of biodad!bruce wayne month! lets get it! I’ll leave this up to interpretation on whether this takes place before or after day 1...

Maribat Masterlist   AO3 @maribat-bdbwm 

Word count: 1.4K words

Summary:

“Has it ever occurred to you that the world does not revolve around you?” Was that supposed to be a joke? She sounded closer, probably ten feet away now. “Did you ever think that I might have business here, completely separate from your work?”

“So it’s a coincidence then.”

“Exactly.”

“Not likely.”

The night when Bruce met Sabine

BD!Bruce Wayne Day 5- Stories/Memories

without further ado:

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The words were out before he could even think them over. He was on a mission in Japan, tracking down a Penguin shipment that managed to leave Gotham under his watch. The subject of his question was an anomaly that had been following him since his arrival at the docks. She clung to the shadows, trailing him the entire distance, not breathing a word to him. If she were here to assassinate him, she would have done so. No, she had other motivations in being his tail and the secrecy was grating on his nerves.

“What ever do you mean?” Her voice was small, barely whispered into the night air, but he heard it nonetheless.

“You’re following me. Why?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that the world does not revolve around you?” Was that supposed to be a joke? She sounded closer, probably ten feet away now. “Did you ever think that I might have business here, completely separate from your work?”

“So it’s a coincidence then.”

“Exactly.”

“Not likely.” Coincidences don’t just happen in this line of work. He needed to know more. He needed to keep her talking.

“Don’t believe me?” The humor was evident in her tone.

“No I don’t.”

“Too bad.” And that was the end of the conversation. Bruce kept moving, no longer letting himself get distracted. He would deal with her later. But first, the mission.

“It’s simple, really. I got you to look after me,” the woman beside him said after minutes of silence. He took the opportunity to assess her. The lower half of her face was covered in a dark grey cloth. It blended into her outfit, what looked like a grey kevlar body suit with white and dark pink accents. Bruce didn’t know where she came from, or what she was doing here but he didn’t have time for more questions. She continued to speak, her eyes never meeting his, “and you got me to look after you, and that’s why.”

“You want to use me as cover, in case whatever it is that you’re doing goes south.”

“Exactly.”

“I’d be a lot more helpful if I knew what you were doing.”

“There’s a man… that has something that doesn’t belong to him. It’s my job to retrieve it.” She looked at him with a challenge in her eyes, daring him to ask more. No matter, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his take down of Penguin’s shipment he would agree to work in tandem just for tonight. He let his silence answer her and decided to move to finally initiate his job.

It was easy work and the mystery woman moved in a way that actually impressed him. She used a whip, an unusual pink, but it mattered not when it would thwip and snap like an extension of her arm. She was an expert. Her short stature worked to her advantage, weaving in and out of harm’s way. It was like watching a mouse evade a series of cats and traps. If he were any less of a man he would have been thoroughly distracted watching her.

In no time the cargo was secured and on his hidden jet, ready for deployment. All that was left was to deal with the mystery woman.

Turning to where he left her, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. There were now two of them. Acting and operating as separate, distinct individuals. Twins? Where has the other one been? Those thoughts didn’t last long however because in a flash of light the two women merged to become one.

Magic.

Of course.

As if she just remembered he was there, she turned to him with mirth in her eyes. He was ready to retract his offer of assistance but he never got the chance.

“Well, I guess this is where we part ways.” She spoke, no room for arguments. In her hand that wasn’t holding her whip sat a rather large talisman. He couldn’t discern what it was but he felt a sense of foreboding wash over him. “I will be seeing you again, I’m sure.”

He moved to intercept her but a cloud of smoke erupted in his face. As it cleared he was left with nothing in his line of sight. Not even a shadow of the woman was left. He was at an impasse with himself. Track her down or return the cargo back to Gotham? Magic users weren’t his forte and he would rather not tangle himself in a situation he did not fully comprehend. But the idea of an unknown, who so easily slipped under his defenses, running loose had him grinding his teeth. Making a mental note to find an excuse to return and stay in the country longer, he set out to Gotham. This wouldn’t be the last time he saw her, he would make sure of it.

Oh how right he was.

Bruce woke with a jolt, remnants of his sleep still lingering on the edges of his mind. The pattering of rain on his window was calming, a natural melody to rouse his sleep-addled brain. He thought back to his dream, his resurfaced memories. He thought back to Sabine and her steel gray eyes that could freeze him in place. Her dry wit and quick-thinking that saved her in a fight more than her skills did. He wasn’t certain back then, even though he was determined to uncover her when they first met that night in Japan, but they would meet again. And again. And Again. So much so that it was only natural that they would come together the way they did. He was still grieving from Talia’s rejection and the news of their seemingly lost son, and she was accepting of their no-strings-attached agreement.

Except there were strings. Their arrangement ended when she found companionship in another man and he was far too willing to give her up at the first opportunity. Love was never on the table between the two of them. But now, about a decade later, Bruce couldn’t help the what if’s and the why not’s. He needed to clear his head.

Untangling himself from his bed sheets, he threw a robe over his shoulders and stepped onto his bedroom balcony. The rain was frigid against his bare skin and the dark clouds casted a shadow over the mid-morning sun. The air was crisp and tasted of the early November chill that would begin to settle over the next few days. He basked in all the sensations, filling his lungs with the taste of the life he’s lived thus far. Memories of another morning, one just like this, began to run free in his mind.

“This will be the last time we meet like this,” warm fingers ran down his chest, an even warmer body pressed into his side. He was almost lulled to sleep by the song of the spring showers that played against the window panes. Her ever soft voice, however, called his attention away from the calls of sleep. “I found someone. Someone I can’t afford to lose.”

“Me too,” he heard himself say. He didn’t know if it was his subconscious calling out to his lost love or reaching for the one so close yet so unreachable.

“It was fun while it lasted.” It was.

“But the real world does not stop for fun.” It doesn’t.

“Maybe in a different life,” he said.

“Maybe in a different time,” she answered. His ear heard more than what was said to him, and her slow speech had overtones not of thought, but of understanding beyond thought. He grabbed for the hand that brushed over his heart and brought them to his lips, kissing the words he would never say into her fingertips.

He never told anyone of his rendezvous with the woman he knew as Sabine. Those meetings were just for him. He wasn’t Batman and he wasn’t Bruce Wayne in those nights. His investigation into her magic went unresolved and he never ran into her outside those encounters. It was a fleeting fling. One that left him with longing and yearning buried so deep even he could pretend it didn’t exist, that it never existed.

How foolish of him.

[snothing]

Request: Drabble in which Jake looks through some old stuff and finds a rather odd yet captivating item: a red tunic with a green scaly leotard, a black-yellow on its right side, a black domino mask, green gloves and finally green pixie boots. he decides to try the suit on

I want to apologize for how long this took! I’ve been so busy with school, and I made this way longer and convoluted than necessary. It’s definitely not a drabble anymore, and I added a lot of sibling banter, lol, I can’t resist. This was so much fun to make, I had so many ideas. Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you enjoy! 

I decided to deviate from my universe, while keeping some old things. Mar’i and Jake are still twins, and Mar’i can turn invisible.

"Go away, Jaki! This is my hiding spot!" Mar'i whispered-hissed at her brother. She glared at him through a jungle of coats and umbrellas in the armoire, her mouth in a tight frown.

"Oh, come on, Mar'i!" Jake cried. With a flair for the dramatic, he threw his hands up in the air. Of course, his annoying sister would take his favorite, top-secret hiding spot!

"Shhh!" she snapped, finger to her lips. Pink eyes flashed brightly at him. "Would you be quiet? Do you want Dad to find us?"

He pursed his lips and looked down the hall. Pretty soon, his dad would be done counting and be searching for them. Still, a great wrong had been committed in the eyes of Jake. "You took my hiding spot! Get out!" he seethed, just a decibel lower.

"Nuh-uh, it's not your hiding spot!" Mar'i shot back. "You don't own it!"

Jake smirked cockily and pointed a finger past her. "Uh, yeah, Mar'i, I do." 

A deep, unamused frown settled on Mar'i's face as she noticed— in bright cerulean blue crayon— the word "Jake" hastily scribbled on the panel. "That means nothing! You don't own everything you put your name on."

He silently raged. "How am I not surprised a heathen like you-"

"-Heathen?! I watched you squirt an entire can of Easy Cheese in your mouth!"

"That was a long time ago. I’m a different man now."

"It was last week!"

"As I said, a long time ago," he retorted drolly. "Anyway, as I was saying— only heathens don't respect the sacred rules of hide-and-seek!"

"You're so ridiculous," she sighed, exhausted. "You act like I broke the law."

"Well, you might as well have. I'm hurt, Mar'i, really I am. I never thought you'd betray me like this. My own flesh and blood— my wombmate--"

"Ew, don't call me that!"

He clasped his hands together. "I think the only way to solve this and mend our broken relationship is for you to leave and find a new hiding spot."

Mar'i stared blankly at him. Jake was her favorite person in the entire universe, but there were times where she wanted to slap him. "I'm not leaving, Jaki."

"By the love of X'hal, you can turn invisible!" he argued.

"So? Dad's using heat-sensing goggles this time."

"Mar'i!"

"Hey, babe," their father's voice filtered in from downstairs. They stilled, eyes wide and locked on each other. 

"Hello, my love. Are you looking for something?" they heard their mother ask him. 

"Oh you know, just for two half-human, half-alien eight-year-olds? Have you seen them? They're like yay-high, black hair with orange skin? Got glowing green eyes?"

"Oh," Kory chuckled. "I think I know the two. Say, are they dangerous?"

"Very. The little rascals will eat all your cereal and blame it on an innocent larva."

"My, they sound like quite the dastardly duo," she mused. "I believe I saw them go upstairs. Please, proceed with caution."

Dick let out a laugh. "Don't worry, babe. I think I'm well-equipped to handle them; Batman raised me after all."

Mar'i snapped back her attention to Jake, panicked. "Go away, Jaki!" she nearly growled. 

"But-" he tried to argue, but her hand shot out and closed the armoire door, effectively ending their discussion. 

Frantic, Jake looked around for a new hiding spot. Under his bed? No, there was a monster. Behind the house plants? Nope, too obvious. In the air vent? Nah, he'd get stuck again. Finally, his eyes found the inconspicuous attic door. 

He was like 90% sure it was haunted. Uncle Jay showed him and Mar'i a horror movie once, and he learned that attics were prime real estate for ghosts and couldn't be trusted. 

But...

It would probably be a great hiding spot. His dad wouldn't expect it. 

The creaking of the stairs interrupted his thoughts and effectively ended his inner turmoil. He dashed to the attic door and braved the darkroom. 

"Oh wow," he said, looking around. The room was cramped, littered with boxes and other knickknacks. Moonlight filtered in through the port window. "Okay, ghosts, listen. I don't mean to trespass or anything. I just need a place to hide from my dad, alright? So no possessing me, okay? I'll only be here for a couple of minutes."

Slowly, he made his way through the clutter, hoping to find a nice nook to squeeze in. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the room, and it was not long before he started hacking. It was then that his left foot hit a meddlesome snag in the carpet, causing him to plummet down on a pile of boxes. 

He let out a rather undignified squeak when his knee slammed into the ground. A flurry of Tamaranean curse words left his mouth; thank heavens, his mom was not around to hear him. "Stupid ghosts!" Jake spat. The crash was loud. His dad knew where he was now. "And stupid Mar'i for making me hide in this stupid, haunted attic!"

He went to glare at the confounding boxes, but he halted when he saw something interesting. His ire vanished, his head cocked slightly. He pulled himself up from the ground and went to analyze the contents of the fallen box closer, his hand alit with a low-energy starbolt.

Inside the unsuspecting box was a brightly colored uniform. Jake's eyes widened the size of saucers. Could this be? There was no way. But sure enough, he found the iconic scaly leotard and black domino mask. Yep, this was his father's old Robin uniform. 

He stared at the red tunic with the utmost reverence; his thumb traced the R. Jake was so absorbed in the costume he failed to notice his sister hovering over him. 

"Whatcha got there, Jaki?" she asked curiously, face inches from his.

He let out a squeal and jumped several feet in the air. He snarled, eyes ablaze in a blue fury. "Mar'i! Don't do that!"

She snickered, an eyebrow raised. "It's not my fault you're not observant."

"I was in stealth mode," he said defensively. He crossed his arms. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding in my hiding spot?"

She shrugged. "Dad found me pretty quick, so I decided to come to bother you."

Jake was surprised. "Wait, do you mean he didn't hear me fall?"

"Nah, I told him you were being a cheater and hiding outside. Thankfully, you decided to be a klutz after he left," she informed him. She frowned when she noticed the betrayed look on his face. "What? I thought you'd be happy I saved you!"

"I think it's funny you pick and choose when to be a loyal sister."

She smiled. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Jaki. Now, what's that?"

Jake followed her pointed look at the costume. He showed her excitedly. "I think it's Dad's old Robin costume!"

Green eyes rounded. "What? No way!"

"Yes, way!" he dazzled. "Look at the insignia!"

"Whoa," she breathed. She fingered the black-yellow cape gingerly. Her head snapped up. "Come on, put it on!"

"W-what?" He gave her a bemused look. 

"I know you want to," she said wryly. She held up the tunic and pushed it towards her brother. "I bet you'd look just like dad."

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off. Honestly, he did not need much convincing. Jake had seen pictures of his dad in his early crimefighting days, but a thought stopped him. "I don't know, Mar'i..."

"Why not?"

"Well, Damian's Robin."

"And?"

"And I don't want to-- I don't know. I guess I don't want to send the wrong message," Jake answered. He sighed somberly. "Besides, it's not like I could ever be Robin anyway. I'm weird."

"What the heck?" Mar'i spluttered. "You think you can't be Robin because you have powers?"

"Robins don't have powers, Mar'i," he said, dejected. "They don't fly or shoot starbolts."

She snorted. She scooted closer to her twin, looking at him intently. "And? Anyone with a brave heart can be Robin, and as I can see, you have one."

"But-"

"No buts, Jaki," she cut him off. Mar'i was not going to allow her brother to put himself down. "I like you just the way you are. I think shooting starbolts and flying is super neat!"

"You're biased," he chuckled. Mar'i's words instantly made him feel better, though. 

Her mouth blossomed into a silly grin. "Well, yeah, duh. I know if I'm awesome, you have to be. Now, put it on!"

"Okay, but turn around. I need privacy!"

"Yay!" she piped before spinning around. Her arms and legs tingled with excitement.  

"Okay, I think I'm ready now," he told her, a bit apprehensive.

Mar'i whipped around, nearly knocking Jake down in the process. She almost burst out in awe when she saw him there, proudly donning their father's uniform. "Wow, Jaki! It looks so good on you!"

He flushed. His eyes, now concealed by a domino mask, peeked down at his body. It had been a bit awkward in some places; Jake did not care for his legs being so exposed, but otherwise, it fit like a glove. "Really?" he asked, swooshing his cape back and forth.

Her head bobbed up and down. "You look just like Dad when he was young!"

"What do you mean by that, Mar'i? I'm still young!" 

Jake and Mar'i were startled by the voice. They spun around in the direction of the attic door and spotted their dad: the first-ever Boy Wonder and best pancake-maker-this-side-of-the-galaxy-- Dick Grayson. 

"Dad!" the siblings exclaimed in perfect unison. 

Dick chuckled. "And what are you two glowsticks doing in the attic? I thought we were playing hide and-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Jake. His eyes widened as they absorbed, his mouth agape.

Jake panicked, and shame surged through him. "I'm sorry, Dad!" he said hastily. "I-I was just hiding upstairs a-and I fell a-and I found your old costume!"

"Jake-"

"A-and I knew I shouldn't have, b-but Mar'i said I should-"

Jake paused when he felt his father's hand on his shoulders. He looked up and met his father's loving gaze. "Jake, calm down," Dick comforted. "It's okay."

Jake swallowed. "You're not mad?"

"No, of course not, son," he responded, genuine. 

"Doesn't he look cool, Dad?" Mar'i piped up, a goofy grin on her face. 

Dick smiled tenderly and moved his hand to caress Jake's face. He could not have predicted what seeing his son wear his old Robin uniform would do to him. His heart soared with love and pride. 

"Yes, Mar'i, he looks pretty cool," he agreed. 

Jake beamed and matched his sister's goofy grin. He thought his dad would be mad at him, but thankfully, he was the furthest from mad. 

"But don't think this means you can go out crimefighting," Dick added quickly.

"Aww, Dad!" Jake whined.

Dick wagged his finger at him. "Don't 'aww, Dad' me! You may have the look, but you're not old enough."

Jake pouted. "I'm not a baby anymore, Dad!"

"Aww, but you're still my baby.” He gave Jake a quick kiss to the temple. “Now, come on, you two. Mom made dinner, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees you."

"Did she burn the food again?" Mar'i grimaced. She loved her mother dearly, but she was not the most adept in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I don't know if I can eat burnt lasagna again, Dad."

"Now, now, glowsticks. Mom spent all day working on this meal!" Dick assured them. He escorted them out of the attic. "It's a dish from Tamaran. I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

Mar'i whispered to her brother, "I like when Mom cooks. We always get McDonald's afterward."

"Or food poisoning."

[davidmann95]

New Superman show! Thoughts?

Anonymous said: Thoughts on the new Superman animated series?

cheerfullynihilistic said: Thoughts on the new HBO Max DC animated shows?

Anonymous said: A NEW SUPERMAN CARTOON!!!!!! WOOOHOOOO!!!! Also another Batman cartoon. That looks cool too

jcogginsa said: NEW SUPERMAN CARTOON!

Anonymous said: So what do you want from the new animated show? It seems to be about a “Year 2” Superman which suits me perfectly, I just want fun adventures with the trio. We’ve still got S&L and the animated movies for a more “mature” take on Superman if this is too childish.

deathchrist2000 said: So they’re making a new Superman cartoon about him falling for Lois. Thoughts?

As it happens I had to wake up much earlier than usual today, so I saw the Batman announcement pretty much as soon as it happened. I had the car ride to the comic book store to think about it, mulled over the notion that while I like Batman too much to be resentful about this it was of course notable that there was no accompanying Superman announcement, leading me to conclude that hey, they should make a Superman cartoon too, a blistering spark of unprecedented inspiration to be sure. Then since I was early I checked my phone while waiting for the store to open, and I believe I audibly yelped.

In the order they were announced: psyched for Caped Crusader! I guess this is what the ‘BTAS is coming back!’ rumors a few months ago were about, and if this basically is “BTAS but serialized, getting to go heavier, and with modern production values”, I’m more than onboard with these names attached. Assuming Abrams’ role is mostly ceremonial, and hoping since he wasn’t in the original Hollywood Reporter headline with the other two Timm’s is mostly aesthetic (the degree to which his input beyond that could be a good thing depends on how much his uncomfortable horniness can be reigned in. Not even saying anything less than exceedingly horny, just don’t have Bruce and Barbara hook up again), this looks to be mainly Reeves’ baby which really shows how far WB is investing in him as the shepherd of their biggest IP. Must be a dream gig for him, getting to do his versions of the big hyper-modern unique reinvention and the classic iconic take at the same time: between that, Timm getting to go in the darker direction he always wanted, and Abrams getting to put his name on a thing everybody already likes again the way we know that guy loves, everybody’s getting what they want with this one. I can’t imagine this not turning out well.

Additionally, controversial take: despite the Timm design hoping this isn’t another Conroy return, we all love him but he’s phoned it in for a bit now and this should scream new as much as possible.

So first off: love that title. What a joyful, clever, lovely spin on an old standard.

Second: love this setup, aesthetic, and apparent tone! Instantly love this Clark and especially this Lois and their dynamic from the one image alone, I’m not familiar with Jake Wyatt’s work but taking a quick glance I’m very glad to see he’s part of this, and getting folks from the Voltron and She-Ra reboots sends a clear message as if the art wasn’t enough of what kind of thing this is going to try to be. Which is pretty much a perfect tack for a modern Superman cartoon: tell the 20-somethings who watched Adventure Time and Steven Universe and the like “hey, this is like those, but focused on your new age group”, and the kids watching Infinity Train and Owl House “hey this is like those but Superman”. If nothing else doing a show rooted around superheroism as a metaphor for the 20s experience rather than being a teenager is a relatively unique tack (as far as mass-media goes PS4 Spider-Man is the only other one that leaps out at me), and anchoring it and the adventures around the slice-of-life escapades and growth of Lois, Clark, and Jimmy as a trio of friends ala Morrison’s Action rather than the traditional duo with a sidekick is inspired. Gut instinct, but I have a feeling this is gonna be a revelatory Lois interpretation in particular. And if All-Star was Jack Quaid’s reading for inspiration as Clark, well, that’s sure not a bad sign either.

(The above’s from reddit, I guess some concept art from early enough that the title wasn’t finalized; the person who leaked this said the girl on the right is a member of the Newsboy Legion, now the Newskid Legion.)

(Also glad to see he's in his real clothes but if he's starting the show figuring the identity out, and there's some Morrison influence, they could do worse than to have him start in the t-shirt and jeans.)

20 years since the last proper Superman on TV, and now we’re getting two shows at once! One of them Superman for KIDS, if you can imagine such a thing. Between My Adventures With Superman as an early days, poppy all-ages series, Superman & Lois as a drama acting as the de facto sequel to pretty much every prior mass-media Superman take, and the upcoming movie apparently being a fairly standalone prestige reinvention, it really feels like all the bases are being covered. Hot damn, he’s well and truly back. Worth the inevitable agonizing hellpit discourse surrounding the franchise now that it’ll be a young adult animated series open to that scale of criticism, and as noted in my Twitter mentions, while not lining up in the strictest chronological sense, in terms of paving the way for this Superman in the collective cultural headspace McKenna Jean Harris probably deserves some royalties, or at least to get to work on the show.

Anonymous said: DC giveth and DC taketh away. We get a new Superman cartoon!... and an Injustice movie. Oh well it was inevitable right? Disappointed they’re doing Injustice before Kingdom Come though, and the petty side of me hopes we get a Metal adaption with the evil Batmen down the road.

Anonymous said: Injustice is finally getting adapted. That sucks but it looks like they’re adapting the first game’s story?

lol, two out of three ain’t bad

Really don’t care, this whipped up some Twitter mentions but basically no one especially gives a shit about these DTV joints at this point anyway (even if Man of Tomorrow turned out really solid) and the contrast today is a particularly humiliating one. So sure, do this too while you’re at it, a friend noted their new burgeoning shared universe sets it up to adapt the original ‘good Earth V evil Earth’ plot pretty well but it hardly matters.

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and… the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert, porn with plot, longfic

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: angst!, threats, intimidation

Word count: 4,334

Author’s note: Oh my god, ok, I was stricken with a particularly persistent case of writer's block but I'm finally back! Here we are with part thirteen!! It took me SO long, as you can see 🙈, but I'm super excited for this chapter (even though I say that about every chapter, it's true!) and I'm sorry it isn't a bit longer! But we've got loads of plot development and dialogue, I hope you enjoy it! This one's smut free for now, but don't worry, it'll be back very soon 🔥

Please read the warning above and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! Comments and reblogs always appreciated ❤️

Musical Inspiration: Something In The Way by Nirvana

- Part Thirteen -

Sleep should have been the last thing on your mind as you followed Joker out into the warehouse, but your fatigue was starting to grow stronger than your anxiety by now. You actually had no idea what time it was, but it was late enough that exhaustion was beginning to set in behind your eyes. Or was that just from the wild range of emotions you’d experienced in only one day?

You worked on taking steady breaths while you carefully stepped behind him and watched the bottom of his coat sway around his calves to keep yourself from looking at the handful of men standing nearby. Because they were looking at you, you didn’t need to lift your gaze to know that.

Embarrassment heated your cheeks when you arrived at a table with a few folding chairs around it and looked across the table to lock eyes with the man who’d guarded the office door earlier. He stared back for only a second before averting his eyes and rounding the table to pull a chair out for you, making your face burn even hotter. It almost felt as though you were being treated like one of those posh wives that often accompanied many of your wealthy clients, so superior and self-important. The contrast was ironic, funny really. Instead of a ritzy downtown Gotham restaurant, you were in an abandoned warehouse covered in graffiti. And in place of an affluent husband dressed in a pristine suit, you sat next to the Joker, his distinctive purple coat falling open across his lap as he leaned back in his chair, showing where he’d missed a button on his green vest.

The comparison made your throat go dry and you almost choked when you swallowed against it. You had to get out of your own head if you wanted to get through whatever was about to happen without humiliating yourself further.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

Joker’s voice snapped you to attention and not a moment after his statement, a man with black hair slicked back against his head and a pointed nose was lead into the room. Your stomach dropped when you noticed what he was wearing. Black tie, white shirt, navy jacket with silver buttons and a shiny police badge over the left pocket.

The heat drained from your face and all of a sudden you felt compelled to run but you couldn’t move. Instead, you stayed firmly planted in your seat, failing to hide the terror in your face while they sat the man down in a chair across from Joker.

He sighed and licked his lips, lacing his fingers together to rest across his stomach before finally speaking. “What kept you so long, Thomas?”

You noticed the man was trembling slightly and starting to sweat, raising the feeling of dread into your throat before he answered, “I-I got news, boss.”

The cold sinking feeling that had fallen over you suddenly dissolved. You were preparing yourself for what he was about to do to this unfortunate police officer, but it seemed that things were more than they appeared, as you’d learned they often are with him.

“Do you? Well then, do tell,” Joker replied in a mocking tone, looking down at the knife from his pocket he’d begun to toy with.

The man, whose name was apparently Thomas, fought hard to swallow before speaking again. “Dent saw the name a-and started askin’ questions. He was gonna shoot me but the Batman-”

Joker’s eyes flashed up from the knife and Thomas froze in place. His mention of Batman instantly raised the tension level in the room, and you found yourself gripping the seat of your chair.

Keeping the knife in his hand, he leaned over the table and growled, “But the Batman wha-t?”

Thomas forced shaky breaths in and out through his nose, keeping his eyes on Joker’s with his jaw clenched tightly. “He… he stopped ‘im,” he managed to utter without his teeth chattering.

“My hero,” Joker answered derisively before leaning back into his seat.

You let the breath you’d been holding out from between your lips while the man in uniform, his forehead now beaded with sweat, blinked and tried to catch his own breath. Joker must enjoy the power he held over people. Inducing so much fear and anxiety by just looking at them. Your heart fluttered when you thought about the thrill it gave you. It was like you’d had been trained to feel more than fear. He stirred up such a complex arousal within you that was hard to explain, even to yourself. Was it because he made you tremble with pleasure and not with pain?

Then your thoughts were interrupted when Joker spoke again, “Now is there more to this little story of yours, Schiff, or have you wasted my very precious time?”

He kept his dull gaze on Thomas, blinking at him, seemingly bored by the whole situation while the man struggled to speak again, his pursed lips quivering. After his tongue slipped out of this mouth to lick the forked scar on his lip, Joker shifted to stand up and Thomas flinched before blurting out, “He’s turnin’ himself in!”

Joker whipped his head back around to stare at the now visibly shaking man with a new fire in his eyes and you stiffened in your chair. There was that thrill again. Your stomach churned a little as a new thought entered your mind. Yes, he enjoyed the power he held over people, and so did you. The way people would freeze, and their eyes widened. The menace that surrounded him came from so much more than a purple suit and smeared greasepaint. He was becoming some obscure figure or representation of fear. His name had been uttered by almost every citizen in Gotham, spoken with an undertone like it left a bitter taste on their tongues, and it wasn’t even his real name. But to the city of Gotham, it was his real name.

“T-…Tomorrow,” Thomas managed to stammer as Joker’s shadow cast over his face.

He approached him and leaned in close, his towering frame hunched forward at his waist. “Wanted to save the, uh, head-line for last, did ya?”

Thomas’s face grew paler, and he vigorously shook his head as Joker licked his lips with a loud smack before continuing, “My time is precious, Schiff, and it’s a terrible thing to waste.”

You took quick breaths in and out through your nose, the air almost burning the back of your throat, like gasoline. It was him. His scent reached your mind and turned your thoughts to how it felt to have him close, as if the smell of him was enough to absorb you. The shirt. Your eyes glanced down at the blue diamond patterned button-up that covered your body and goosebumps suddenly tickled your skin.

“Now. Before any more of it slips away, why don’t you go with these nice gentlemen so they can collect some de-tails from ya, hm?” he said with faux repose before patting Schiff on the cheek.

Two men that you hadn’t noticed approach made you flinch when they appeared behind the man before each took hold of one of his arms to stand him up from the chair. His gaze finally broke away from Joker’s face to scan over the men, making a soft sound, like a whimper, as they silently escorted him out through the side door.

It slammed and you felt like you’d just been dropped into your chair from where you’d been floating somewhere above it, blinking your eyes as if to clear fog from your vision. The warmth of arousal swiftly faded and the uneasy feeling of eyes on you began to crawl up your back. The room was eerily quiet now and you couldn’t seem to dare yourself to move, you just stared ahead into the darkness on the other end of the warehouse.

Then you nearly jumped out of your chair and gasped when you felt hands rest on your shoulders. “What’s the matter, doll face? Afraid of cops, hm?”

So much for getting out of your own head. Your face heated up once again and you fought against the cascade of nervous impulses trying to take you over before turning your head to see Joker’s gloved hand on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered relentlessly, as if trying to flee from your chest every time you saw him.

“Mm well, no need to worry. Thomasover there works for me.”

It was strange, the contrast between the way he spoke to that man and how he spoke to you. It was hard not to read into it. Part of you knew it was because he wanted something from you, but you couldn’t stop the little rising feeling that maybe you meant something to him. Why would you want that from a man like him? Had you been corrupted that much? The whole thing was enough to make your head spin all over again. But you took a deep breath before your thoughts could consume you and finally lifted your gaze to look at him.

He gazed back at you with heavy eyelids and your heart rose up into your throat, your lips parting as you blinked at him. This was all on purpose. Giving them a show, bringing you out here wearing one of his shirts, making sure they could see you. It should have made you upset, the way he paraded you around, but it made you feel something else. Tingles traveled up your neck and through your burning cheeks as a sense of gratification bloomed in your chest. You were his and he wanted them to know that. Maybe you wanted them to know it too. You wanted them to know that you were his… that you’d slept with Gotham’s most dangerous man.

A small smile appeared on your face, the air carrying the smell of greasepaint and burnt matches as the corner of his mouth stretched into a smirk. Still no sign of the bottom of this rabbit hole.

_______________

The deep darkness of a dreamless sleep lifted as your eyes slowly opened, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings where you found yourself waking. This wasn’t your bedroom. Your mind, still somewhat shrouded by sleep, tried to make sense of where you might be instead before jolting you awake, and it all came back to you. It’d only been one night, but it felt like so many more.

You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen asleep. But you remembered following him back to his office, there were some passing remarks to the men in the room, you thought maybe then you sat down on the bed, but your exhaustion obscured any more details. What time was it?

Raising your arms over your head, you stretched beneath the blanket that had been placed over top of you and took a deep breath of the cool air. After rubbing your eyes, you heard a small sound coming from the little bathroom in the back of the office. Your breath caught in your throat and a flutter of anxiety came over you when you realized you weren’t alone. Holding still, you listened carefully and heard the sound of water running. It must be him, who else would it be? That maddening flutter grew stronger along with the familiar rise of heat in your face. Was that ever going to stop?

Swallowing against the tightness in your throat, you quietly pulled the blanket away and swung your legs over the side of the mattress, your bare feet making contact with the concrete floor. Once your weight settled onto your tip-toes, you carefully took silent steps toward the bathroom. As you approached the doorway, the sound of running water was accompanied by a metallic clink and a low hum.

You cursed your nerves for being so on edge, it was becoming embarrassing at this point. So, in an attempt to boldly ignore your meek apprehension, you took a breath and stepped into the doorway.

The warmth in your cheeks increased ten-fold as your eyes scanned the sight in front of you. Leaning over the sink while a steamy flow of water ran from the tap, Joker’s reflection in the mirror glanced at you without turning around. He was bringing a straight razor to his face, carefully gliding it along his jawline before rinsing it under the tap and bringing it back to take another row of shaving cream. He was wearing the same thin thank top with only traces of greasepaint left around his ears.

“Mmm well, there she is. A regular sleeping beauty, aren’tcha, doll?” he said, his eyes returning to his own face in the mirror.

Make that twenty-fold. You huffed a breath as you tried to come up with a response, too stunned by something so seemingly ordinary. Sure, you’d seen men shave before, but this was different. It was strange to see him move with such precision, so careful with his hands, running the sharp blade around the rough edges of his scars with ease. His penchant for chaos came with a certain finesse, an accuracy that he made appear so effortless. Perhaps you’d been staring too long.

“Now that you’ve rejoined the, uh, land of the living, we have some work to do.”

You blinked and tore your gaze away from the mirror, trying to look anywhere else before it finally landed on the tile floor. “Um… what kind of work?”

He chuckled and you could feel him looking at you in the mirror again when he answered, “The kind that requires some subtlety, a little nuance that no one else here can measure up to.”

Your eyes lifted from the floor after you thought for a moment about what he said and you asked, “No one else but me?”

“You catch on quick, baby doll,” he replied, clicking his tongue as he swiped away the last bit of shaving cream from his face. Then he set the razor on the edge of the sink and turned around, looking you up and down as he closed the gap between you. “It’s your time to shineonce again.”

That feeling had begun to fill your chest. That strange sense of pride tangled up with your willingness to do more, your desire to please. You didn’t seem to be in control of it, that was something you gave up days ago, but you could see it blurring the line between what was right and what was wrong even further. Soon you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

He stopped in front of you, keeping your gaze locked with his as you felt the ghost of his breath on your skin. The more he looked at you like that, the stronger that feeling was becoming. He knew it too, didn’t he? He knew that you belonged to him by now and you had no wish to put a stop to it, even after everything you’d seen.

“What do you want me to do?”

A small smirk appeared on his face and he answered in a low voice, “That’s what I like to hear, doll.”

The heat that had been rising in your body came to a sudden halt when he then turned to pass you through the doorway, leaving you taking slow breaths to regain what little composure you could manage.

“This one’s simple,” he called over his shoulder from his desk. “All you gotta do is blend in. Be a fly on the wall, so to speak.”

Were you ever going to be able to keep your mind out of the gutter whenever he got close? Probably not. But you could try to hide it. After letting out one more breath, you turned to follow him into the office where he’d sat at his desk with the small hand held mirror you’d seen before, dipping his fingers into a jar of white paint before starting to smear it across his face.

“Blend in where?”

He chuckled, scooping more paint out cover his jaw line. Then without looking up from the mirror he answered, “Check the suitcase by the bed.”

A tattered leather suitcase beside the bed quickly caught your eye. You weren’t sure if he’d ever answered any of your questions directly before and it seemed that was unlikely to change soon, so you tentatively followed his instruction. It wasn’t heavy when you picked it up to place it on the bed. Then after clicking the latches open, you shifted your gaze toward the desk. He’d moved on to smudging black around his eyes, still not turning to look at you. Those insidious butterflies in your stomach made themselves known and in an attempt to shoo them away, you hurriedly lifted the lid on the leather case.

Not sure what you were expecting to see in the first place, you blinked for a moment at the articles of clothing folded neatly inside before reaching in to pick them up. On top was a black pencil skirt, just the right length for the hem to lay above your knees, and beneath it was a deep purple cardigan with opalescent buttons down the front. The purple knit fabric matched that of his coat almost exactly. Heat returned to your cheeks then your eye caught sight of a pair of black heels in the bottom of the case.

“Can’t have you going out in that, hm?”

Your heart leapt into its familiar place in your throat as you looked down at his shirt you were still wearing, goosebumps crawling up your back before you turned around and nearly ran into him. He’d finished with the bright smear of red on his mouth and was now standing over you, the look in his eyes drawing even more warmth to the surface of your skin.

His fingers slid down your wrist before he took your hand in his, turning your palm upwards as his eyes remained locked with yours, your breath now a shallow huff. After reaching into his pocket, you felt him place something in your hand.

Holding back the excitement climbing up behind your tongue, you forced your eyes down. It was some kind of ID card. In bold letters along the bottom, it read “PRESS” and in the corner, you saw an image of yourself. Your eyes widened when you recognized it as the photo from your driver’s license.

Your eyes darting back up to his face, you asked, “What’s this?”

He raised an eyebrow and replied, “What does it look like?”

“How did you get my license photo?”

A chuckle vibrated in his throat and he turned away from you to go back to his desk where he took something from one of the drawers.

“Always so many questions, doll. But never the right ones.”

_______________

It was hard to keep yourself from fidgeting with the hem of the skirt. It was actually very well made and fit you like a glove, but your nerves were getting the best of you once again. You sat in the backseat of an SUV with tinted windows where Joker had just slid in next to you moments ago.

The brightness of the morning sun was only partially lessened by the darkened glass, it’s beams still nearly blinding where it peeked out from between buildings. Lifting your hand to shield your eyes, the other clutching the ID card, you squinted out the window to try to discern where you here headed. He’d left you to get cleaned up and dressed then took you straight to this car outside where a driver was waiting, not a word exchanged between anyone. He said this would be simple, but you couldn’t keep your stomach from tying into a tense knot while you worried over what you were expected to do.

“Ok, doll. Like I said, this one’s simple.”

His timing couldn’t have been better. You turned away from the window to see him reach into his coat pocket, retrieving something small that he held between his fingertips.

“With this, you can be my eyes and ears,” he said, holding it out.

It was a little black earpiece, small enough to fit comfortably in your ear. When you lifted your eyes, about to ask what it was for, you stopped before the words could exit your lips. He’d shifted closer to you and reached out to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. The leather of his glove brushed against your cheek, rendering it scorching as he placed the small device in your ear.

“You are now an esteemed member of the press and today you’ve scored the opportunity to report on the biggest story sweeping the city…” he grinned, taking the ID from your hand and clipping it to your sweater. “The Batman is turning himself in.”

Next thing you knew, the car pulled up to the curb then the man sitting in the front seat reached behind him and pushed your door open. The cool air rushed over your face and you whipped back around, mouth open but no questions left to ask.

“Your time to shine, baby girl.”

Your feet carried you toward the tall building in front of you, its ground floor lined with windows while your chest shuddered against the quick breaths you forced in and out of it. You hadn’t been given much instruction, but you knew standing around on the sidewalk looking confused wasn’t what you should be doing. Scanning the entrance in search of where you should be going, you noticed a small crowd entering the door on the far end of the building and turned toward it.

“Bingo. You’re gettin’ good at this, doll.”

His voice suddenly rumbling in your ear sent a rush down your back and you almost stopped in your tracks, but you pressed forward as warmth filled your face, trying to keep your expression calm and unassuming. You had to resist looking behind you to look for the car you knew he must be watching you from.

After taking a quick glance around you to make sure you were still alone, you swallowed and asked quietly, “Can you hear me?”

He answered with a low chuckle and said, “Mm loud and clear, sweetheart.”

Great, how were you supposed to stay composed when it felt like he was following right behind you? But the door was getting closer, and you didn’t have much time to ask questions. Now you could see inside where news cameras were all pointed in the same direction.

“Are you gonna tell me what to do?”

“Eyes and ears, doll. Your big story awaits.”

He probably heard the frustrated sigh you couldn’t hold back as you pulled the glass door open to follow the crowd, his giggle tickling in your ear.

The large conference room was packed with people sitting in rows in front of a small stage where a podium was set up, more standing along the walls and backed all the way up to the door. You quietly squeezed behind the group just inside the entrance and made your way toward the last spot against the wall, eyeing the handful of police officers to your right. As if your nerves weren’t weighing heavy enough on you, now there were cops here?

You looked down at the press badge clipped to your sweater and tried to relax. Just blend in, they weren’t there for you. Staring at the podium rigged with a handful of microphones across the room, his words echoed in your head, the Batman is tuning himself in.

Then the crowd gradually fell silent when flashes and the clicking of cameras followed a man with a head of sandy blonde hair as he stepped up to the podium. You recognized his face from his campaign ads right away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I’ve called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to ensure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done.” Harvey Dent continued to speak over contentions from the crowd and said, “Secondly, because the Batman has offered to turn himself in. But first, let’s consider the situation. Should we give in to this terrorist’s demands?”

You couldn’t understand the rest over Joker’s burst of laughter in your ear. You quickly covered it with your hand to smother the sound before he held his giggles back and said, “Me? A Terrorist? Oh Harvey, you’re gonna make me blush.”

The crowd continued the argue against him until Harvey made a promise. “The Batman will have to answer to the laws he’s broken but to us, not to this mad man.”

A mad man. You supposed that wasn’t untrue. You’d seen enough to know that. But it still somehow didn’t feel true to you. Like it was what people said because they felt threatened by him. They were frightened and faced with a particular unease, unable to explain what it was. It gripped them and wouldn’t let them look away. You felt it too. But it didn’t scare you away, it only drew you closer, didn’t it?

Before you fell further into your thoughts, agitated demands for the Batman to turn himself in echoed through the room as Dent’s speech failed to bring any sense of righteousness to the crowd of cops and reporters.

“So be it. Take the Batman into custody.”

Everyone fell silent, waiting for the vigilante to step forward. Was that really about to happen? But Harvey waited only a moment before he stated to the crowd, “I am the Batman.”

Disbelief settled over the room, everyone watching as a few officers approached him to put him in handcuffs and swiftly lead him off of the stage. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep chuckle resounded in your ear.

“Ahhh, well there you have it. Now Harvey wants to play.”

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[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

 Adrien was resting lightly on the hotel couch as he waited for Marinette and Constantine to return from their mission.  It probably would have been wiser to just wait until the morning to check on Marinette but he wanted to be available to leave immediately in case something happened.  Plus he wanted to see Constantine before he went home so he could make sure they all agreed on the next steps.  Which led to his current position in their base of operations, covered in popcorn from an overturned bowl, in front of a table full of caffeinated drinks that hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping, the credits for the latest movie in his movie marathon rolling by on the television, and Plagg snoring loudly atop the overturned bowl.

Their Base of Operations was a penthouse room in Le Grand Paris Hotel next to Chloe’s room.  She had convinced her Daddy she needed to have the extra room so she could have a gym and meditation area nearby. After all, was she really expected to share a gym with other people and their germs?  Did he have no concern for her health at all!  Did he want her to get sick?  And with the whole Hawkmoth situation, she needed to meditate to relieve stress.  Did he really think there was any way she could relax sharing a meditation area with other people!?  Stressed people had trouble focusing in school. Did he want her to fail out of school?  Did he want her to be stressed out and stress eat?  To be sick and unhealthy and uneducated and miserable and get AKUMATIZED?  Again? Is that really what he wanted for his only daughter?  

The speed at which he caved was a personal best for Chloe and will forever be used by the team as a measure of speed, “yeah, that was fast, but not like meditation room fast”.  And if the room she selected just so happened to have a balcony the heroes could use to swing in on and an extra bed they could use to collapse into after a tough fight and gym mats that could be used for sparring and a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry with the snacks the kwamis liked best and soundproofed walls (I mean honestly how was Chloe supposed to be expected to meditate in an unsoundproofed room?), it’s not really anyone else’s concern, now is it.

However, after hours of watching bad movies, the resolve he had earlier in the night of staying up until they returned had waned and he had involuntarily drifted off to sleep.  It was almost sunrise and not long after that was when he would normally wake up for the day. Thankfully, he didn’t have anything scheduled for the day to ‘work on a large project’ with Chloe all day, so he would be able to sleep in and try to catch up.  But as it was, he was running on almost no sleep for about 24 hours, after a full week of late nights and early mornings preparing for tonight, and consequently he was a little out of it.  So perhaps he should be excused for having a very loose grip on reality at the present moment.  

As soon as the portal opened behind his couch, he bolted up sensing the change in pressure more than reacting to any actual sound and immediately collapsed back on the couch when the sudden rush of blood made him dizzy. He blinked heavily as he watched Marinette and Constantine walk through the portal.  He kept his focus on the portal behind them, mesmerized by the shimmering waves it created and still trying to get his hazy brain to focus on the present even after the portal had closed.  He rubbed his eyes and squinted, still not sure if he was dreaming or conscious or if the two were bleeding together.  “Is that… did you bring me a cat?” he asked in an uncertain voice still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“A what?” Marinette asked whipping around.  “Oh for God’s sake.  Seriously, cat.  You’re not allowed to eat the kwamis,” she chastised the cat who dutifully ignored her and jumped onto the coffee table in front of Adrien to get a better look at the new kwami he had discovered, knocking over a few of Adrien’s drinks along the way.

Constantine huffed out a single laugh and tossed a cigarette into his mouth as he made his way toward the balcony, “Persistent little bugger. Good luck with that.  I’m going out for a smoke.”

The cat cocked his head to the side and stared at the kwami. He cautiously raised his paw toward him as if to bat at him and started making chirping noises at him.  When Plagg didn’t respond to the chirping, the cat moved a few steps closer to the black cat kwami and tried meowing at him.

“Back off fleabag,” Plagg hissed eyeing the infiltrator hostilely, “there’s already one cat here and I don’t share.”

“Only one?” Tikki asked amused.

“He doesn’t count his isn’t a real cat,” Plagg spluttered out motioning towards Adrien.

“Neither are you,” Adrien pointed out blithely.

Plagg flew into Adrien’s face to glare at him, “Look here you little…”

“Relax Plagg, I’m sending him back now,” Marinette interrupted rolling her eyes.  “Voyage,” she called out picturing the Batcave and moving her arm to create a much smaller, cat sized portal she could push their stowaway through.  She attempted to pick up the cat, but he apparently had other ideas.  He twisted smoothly out of her hands, struggling to stay near the kwami. “Ugh,” Marinette grunted after a few more failed attempts, “Stop being a liquid!” she ordered the cat who continued to ignore her, but still rubbed against her legs on his way past her.  “Tikki, Trixx, can you help out here?” she asked exasperated.

“Sure thing,” Trixx chirped and Trixx and Tikki flew around the cat’s head, gaining his attention.  Once they were sure the cat was paying attention to them and willing to follow their movements, they both flew toward the portal at top speed, splitting up just before going through the portal.  The cat raced after them but wasn’t quick enough to change his direction in time to avoid the portal.  His momentum and Marinette’s well timed push caused him to slide through the portal.  As soon as he was through, Marinette closed the portal, sealing him on the other side.  They may be data thieves, but they were not cat thieves and she was not in the mood to deal with Plagg’s territoriality.

Marinette called off her transformation and collapsed into a large arm chair, letting out a long, tired sigh as she pulled off her shoes and tossed them on the floor.  She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, trying to meld with the chair and become one.  She was ready for this night and this mission to be over.  She didn’t even want to check that they got the data, she just wanted to go to sleep and never think about this night or blue eyes ever again. The gala was the past.  It had no place in her future.  Except that after all the information she had so stupidly shared both in the cave and at the gala, to a member of the Batfamily at that, they could definitely expect an immanent visit from the Batfamily and they would have to be prepared for that.

Adrien glanced over at Marinette amused at her exhaustion. He hoped her exhaustion was due to her having fun at the gala.  Maybe she had met someone, at least for the night.  Or maybe she had been able to network a bit.  With the dress she had… his eyes widened as he suddenly noted her dress. That wasn’t what her dress looked like when she had left.  That wasn’t a good sign.  She was in the escape plan version of the dress, the shit-went-to-Hell version of the dress.  It was supposed to be a last resort option.  Well shit… On the bright side, that version of the dress was a lot more appealing and would have gotten more attention, so she might have gotten something out of the night after all.  He shook his head and plastered on a fake smile, “So, how did it go?  Was the mission a success?”

Marinette opened one eye to glare at him, the effect of which he thought was quite impressive considering she was only using one eye, honestly.  “How did it go?” she repeated back to him in a belligerent tone opening both eyes to fully glare at him.  “How did it go?  How do you think it went?” she asked moving her hands up and down over her body indicating her dress.

“It looks like you got to show off that amazing design.  So… any commissions?  Get any phone numbers?  Get the data?” He tried again still with a forced optimism.

“Oh he got the data alright,” her voice was dripping in false sweetness before switching to venom.  “From the batcomputer in the Batcave as he was stealing it from Batman.” She replied intentionally avoiding the commission question because like hell was she going to hand him that win.  

“What?!” Adrien exclaimed in shock.

“Yeah, that was the mission.  Keep eyes on Batman while Constantine stole from him.”

“But you were supposed to keep an eye on the Waynes…”he commented confused.

“Exactly,” she confirmed with an acerbic smile.

“Wait… what!  Bruce Wayne is Batman!!” he jumped up off the couch.

“Yep” she said popping the p.

“Shit,” he ran his hand over his face and collapsed back on the couch.

“That was roughly my response as well but with a lot more hostility and cursing.”

“But, I don’t understand… doesn’t he know Batman? Haven’t they worked together before? Why would we have to go through all of this if it was his friend?” his brain was still waking up and this was a lot to process and clearly his brain was not ready to do so.

“That is an excellent question my young Padawan,” she stood up moving closer to him.

“I’m older than you,” he interrupted with an annoyed look, but Marinette continued on ignoring him.

“And who does Constantine avoid at all costs?”

Adrien thought about it.  They didn’t know Constantine extremely well, but they had managed to get a pretty good feel for him, “Legal authorities, debt collectors, his exes…”

“Exactly,” she interrupted “and since he doesn’t consider Batman a legal authority based on having worked with him before, and he doesn’t owe him money…”

“Oh my God!!  He was screwing Batman!”

“It would seem so,” she nodded picking up one of the drinks on the table and contemplating the benefits of drinking it vs just saying fuck it and going to bed now.

“All that stuff we did?  All that prep work, all that studying, the planning, the stress, the lost sleep, it was all because he wanted to avoid his ex?” Adrien needed clarification on this because they had gone through a lot in the last few weeks, unnecessarily so if that was true.  Why had they allowed Constantine to help them again?

“He wanted to avoid him but get him involved with us.  He figured this little undercover operation would achieve both.”

“Wait, how was you going to the Gala supposed to help?”

“Oh that’s another brilliant part of this clusterfuck of a night.  The whole ‘stay undetected’ proviso was a fake out.  The entire point was to get noticed.  That’s why he sent me instead of you.”

“But, I’m famous so me going would have done that better.” Adrien couldn’t figure out if none of this made sense because his brain was still turned off or if it really didn’t make any sense, but Marinette’s reaction seemed to confirm that it wasn’t just him that was struggling with this.

“He didn’t just want us to get noticed, he wanted one of the bat boys to get invested, and he thought that was more likely if it was me rather than you.  Apparently I look a lot more pathetic than you, so I worked better in his little plan,” she grumbled before smirking at him.  “Personally, I think he vastly underestimated your ability to flirt and apparently the oldest brother is something of a slut so you could have possibly gotten a date out of it or at least a make out session.  You should talk to him about that.”

Adrien stared at her as she ranted, trying to process everything she was telling him.  One phrase caught his attention though, “which one is the oldest one again? Is he the one with the hair and the eyes and the…” he motioned toward his shoulders trying to indicate broad shoulders and firm body, “the gymnast?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” she nodded.

“Shit.” Adrien looked dejected.  But turned back to her with a rakish smile.  “So did his plan work?  Did one of them ‘invest’ in you?”

“Not in me… ugh” she fell onto the couch.  “So, on top of everything else, the brother we thought was dead?  He’s very much alive.  A wonderful fact which Constantine knew and I discovered WHILE I WAS DANCING WITH HIM! I mentioned the Hawkmoth situation to him in a very vague way before I knew who he was, which I would never have done if I’d known who he was, and I would have known if Constantine had fucking TOLD us about him.” She shouted toward the balcony.  

“So…” Adrien prompted her.

“He seemed invested in stopping people getting hurt when I ran out, not in me.” She clarified, though whether she was trying to convince herself or him, she wasn’t sure.

“… you were dancing with him?” Adrien cocked his head to the side and gave her a smirk.  “How closely were you dancing, exactly?”

“It wasn’t… that’s not how… It wasn’t like that. I was using him as a cover to get onto the dancefloor to observe the Waynes.” She floundered, her cheeks starting to turn pink as she forced down the ‘not close e-fucking-nough’ that wanted to break out.

“Don’t let her lie to you like that,” Constantine said coming back into the room.  “She and Jason were getting cozy.”

“You were not there.  We were NOT getting cozy,” she lied through her teeth, pointing a threatening finger towards him.  And they certainly hadn’t been as cozy as she would have liked, so it isn’t really a lie, only kind of a lie.

“How cozy were you getting?  Should I start planning a shovel talk?” Adrien grinned, enjoying every second of this.

Marinette sputtered at him, her blush turning darker, “This is not about my non-existent love life, this is about Constantine’s fucked up sex life. It is about him going though all this so he could avoid having to talk to his ex.  He could have just asked Wayne for the information if he wasn’t so focused on his stupid little lover’s spat.”

“It wasn’t a lover’s spat.” Constantine corrected offended by the suggestion.

“Just a prank on your boyfriend then?” Marinette hissed at him, “at the expense of our time and Parisians’ sanity.”

“He isn’t… we aren’t…  I have never and will never sleep with Batman.  God, of all the vigilantes to suggest… I mean not the worst but not even when drunk and desperate.”

“You’ll screw a shark but not a bat?” Adrien asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, first I didn’t screw a shark, I got screwed by a shark, a lot. There is a difference.  I highly recommend it actually... well maybe not to you two sunshine children… but the loud, blonde one seems like she might be into having fun.”

Adrien made a gagging sound and Marinette turned away quickly, shuddering and closing her eyes against the thought of Chloe and… anything. She didn’t want to think about Chloe doing anything with anyone.  “I think I need to scrub my brain with bleach.”

“Second,” Constantine continued on, pretending he wasn’t enjoying their reaction to his statement, that it wasn’t the exact reaction he was trying to illicit, “ew.  Too much drama involved.  And, I’d still like to know how you found out about that anyway.”

Marinette looked over to Adrien to answer but noticed he was completely lost in thought, probably still trying to think of something to take his mind off of Chloe before glancing over to Plagg.  Plagg looked up from the pillow he had settled on and shrugged, “you smell like fish.”

Adrien cocked his head to the side still deep in thought. “So… does that make him a Furry?”

“What the hell, Adrien!  Is that really the focus here?” Marinette exclaimed hitting him on the shoulder.  She was desperate to stop thinking about Chloe but Constantine doing anything with anyone was not an improvement over that.  On the bright side, she wasn’t thinking about the gala anymore but God, at what cost?

“I mean, sharks don’t have fur so… finny?” he said still looking at nothing while he thought through the implications.  “But furry is a reference to their skin and shark skin is made up of denticles, really tiny scales, so… scaly?  No, that doesn’t sound nice.  ‘Furry’ sounds cute, being into non-mammals should get a cute name too. Yeah, finny is definitely better. But since, a bat is a mammal, sleeping with the bat would’ve made him a furry.  So he’s a finny, not a furry.” He said with a nod, proud of himself for working that out.

Marinette stared at him incredulously and ran a hand over her face, “Never has your scientific experience been more inappropriately utilized.”

“Oh no, you don’t know the conversations Red Cap, Glasses, Skater Girl, Monkey Boy, and he have.  It gets much more inappropriately utilized and quite often.” Plagg said with an evil grin.

“You’re both wrong.  Furry refers to people in costumes meant to evoke an animal.  One really is a shark and the other isn’t trying to actually look like a bat so neither qualify, if we’re getting technical.” Constantine said leaning against the arm chair, arms folded over his chest. “As much as I like to discuss people’s sexual proclivities, is that really what you want to discuss before I leave? No better questions you want to focus on before I go?”

Marinette was almost grateful for him voicing his concern and changing the topic.  Almost. Because she knew his concern wasn’t with staying on topic.  The waste that the last two weeks were stood as testament to that fact.  He didn’t care about wasting time.  He had a point he wanted to make and he wanted their attention for it.  

She wanted to get mad at him.  She wanted to lecture him, but everything about this night was messy and frustrating and aggravating and it was all his fault so he didn’t get a pass even if she knew he was trying to help.  At this point in the night… morning?  God it was so late.  At this point in the morning, she just wanted to drop it and let sleep wash away the night and the memories.  Thankfully, she had Adrien.  And Adrien takes Parisian suffering just as personally as she does.

Adrien looked at Constantine in feigned naïve confusion, “What did you want to focus on?  How you made us unwitting accomplices to stealing from a superhero?  How we are now on the Justice League’s radar as possible villains?  How you lied to us the entire time you’ve been working with us?  How you manipulated us against our express wishes to try to force our hand?  How you ignored all of our expertise and thought out conclusions and instead of talking with us, played games with ours and other Parisians’ lives?  How you wasted our time?  During which time approximately 3 million Parisians died as a result of 8 akuma attacks.  Which one did you want to focus on right now?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath.  “Dramatic much?  Two weeks and one or two more deaths for someone who has already died a dozen times isn’t going to make much of a difference, but getting Batman involved might.”

“It makes a huge fucking difference to the people going through it.  One more on top of so many others can be enough to cause a break that might take years or decades to recover from, if they ever do, to drive someone irrevocably insane. It makes a difference to the child who lost their innocence because of it.”  Marinette hissed at him, suddenly very much awake.

“You swore to keep the Justice League out of this,” Adrien growled next to her.  “That was the one condition.  We were very clear on our opinion on the matter.  You agreed.  You swore you would abide by our rules.”

“I agreed to abide by the rule.  I never said I agreed with it.  I swore I wouldn’t communicate anything with or to them.  I didn’t,” he said pointing to Marinette, “Spots did.  And us being there did.  I didn’t break anything… I just bent it a bit and if you’re asking me for my opinion…”

“We didn’t,” Marinette snarled.

“…I think that rule needs to be finessed.  An exception made,” Constantine finished ignoring Marinette’s interjection.

“You don’t get to make that decision, you don’t even get a say. This is our city.  You don’t dictate the terms here,” Adrien gave Constantine a dark look, rising from the couch to his full height.  “You’re welcome to give advice.  You’ve certainly had more experience with magic and fighting, but you didn’t do that.  You didn’t offer your opinion or advice.  You manipulated us and the situation to force us to do as you want.  You involved Batman.  That is...”

The rest of Adrien’s rant was interrupted by the sound of Constantine’s phone ringing.  Constantine pulled out his phone and grunted as he saw the caller id, “Bollocks, speak of the Bat and the Bat shall appear.  Took longer than I expected.  He must be slipping or he isn’t worried about you.”

“What are you doing?  Turn your phone off so they can’t track you.”  Marinette ordered hurriedly jumping up when he didn’t immediately turn it off only calming down when he had turned it off.  “And why wouldn’t he be worried about me?  I am very worrisome.”  She defended herself.

“I can attest to that,” Adrien nodded from her side.

She glared at him, then shook her head and cleared her throat, “I mean, good.  We don’t want them to show too much interest.  The less interest the better.  Maybe if we make it hard to find us, they’ll just move on.” She winced as she finished saying it, not even believing it was an option herself.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen and they’re going to know I’m in Paris.” Constantine scoffed.

“Probably, but they don’t have to know you’re in this room.  Just leave it off until you leave.  And remember you aren’t going to tell Batman anything.” Adrien ordered him pointing his finger towards him and levelling him with a steely look.

“Oh well thank you so much for your permission,” he snarked at him.  “And just to be clear, I’ve been abiding by the no speaking rule… more or less, but this is Batman.  It’s a losing battle.  He’s going to find me and I’m not getting tortured by one of his kids for you. They’re all pain and no pleasure.” He opened his coat to put his phone back in his pocket and discretely sniffed the air between his body and his coat and furrowed his brow.  He looked up and saw the two watching him.  He stood back up nonchalantly.  “And my advice is it’s a good idea for you to talk to him.  He can help.”

“Does Batman have some insight into magic that we don’t?  Or the ability to control his emotions?  Would he respect us and listen to us?  Is he trustworthy?”

“No, God no, that’s laughable, and fuck no.  But what he does have is detective skills and a shit ton of backing money.”

“But we can’t trust him,” Marinette clarified.

“Sweetheart, you trusted me so… your judgement is suspect to begin with.  I would have trusted him before I trusted me.”

“We needed you for your knowledge of magic, the history, the limits, how to wield it, how to manipulate it, where to find more information on it… and how to steal that information.” Marinette conceded the last bit.  “That offset the trust factor.  Batman doesn’t have any of that to offer.”

“I’m just saying…” he sighed quietly, “think about it.  Or one of his kids.  You could let one of his kids come or help you from a distance.  They really are good detectives and you kids really do need a break.  You’ve been doing a good job, but until you find Hawkmoth, this isn’t going to end. You won’t be able to move on.  You could use a good detective for that.  They don’t call them the world’s greatest detective for no reason.” He stopped to consider the title for a minute, “although Tim might actually be better than Bruce and better at controlling his emotions too.

“But your best bet might just be Jason,” he grinned devilishly at Marinette as she fought her blush.  She was not going to blush just at hearing his name.  She had more control than that, damn it.  “It sounds like you’ve gotten his interest in the project already.  He’s a good detective too, some experience with magic, and if he trusts you, you can trust him.  He’ll have trouble with his temper so you’ll have to keep an eye on that, but you won’t find a better fighter.”

“Oh, that sounds like a great combination to have here, amazingly skilled fighter with no capacity for anger management,” Marinette bit at him.  “That’s not Hawkmoth’s ideal candidate or anything.”

“Hard to control though, the best have tried.  Even if Butterfly Man tries, he’s your best bet at resisting it,” he said knowingly.  “And as tough as he looks, and is, he’d give the skin off his back to help someone in trouble, especially a kid.”

“Isn’t the phrase ‘shirt off his back’?” Adrien asked with a raised brow.

“He’d be more upset about the jacket.  Just consider it.  Maybe the information we got will be enough, but you can use all the allies you can get on your side.  And maybe you could use a new approach, a new perspective.”  Constantine sighed and looked back at the two teens noting the darkening bags under their eyes.  “Now, get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“Personal knowledge?” Adrien quipped at him.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “You better be careful.  If anyone were to hear you now they might think you give the slightest care about someone other than yourself.  What would happen to your reputation then?”  He huffed at her and she smirked back at him.

“I’ll just have to be extra careful to show my true feelings around other people, so nobody gets confused.” He responded.

Marinette hummed in response.  He wasn’t fooling anyone and everyone there knew it.  She sighed and stood up, calling for her transformation.  “Voyage” she said quietly and motioned near Constantine to open a portal to his next destination.

“Let me know when you get it deciphered.  I’m just a voyage away if you need anything.  And if you need someone to talk to… definitely don’t be afraid to think better of calling me,” he said gruffly.  Marinette rolled her eyes at him.  “And think about what I said,” he said looking her in the eyes with a meaningful look.  She nodded in understanding and offered a quiet “Good Night and thank you” to him.  He turned to give a small nod to Adrien before walking through the portal.

“Want to talk about anything?” Adrien asked coming up behind her and bumping her with his shoulder.

Marinette shook her head, “We can talk about everything later.  There isn’t anything you need to know right now.  Let’s just go to sleep.  It’s been a rough night.”

                                                <><><><><> 

“Constantine turned off his phone before I could get his exact location.” Tim called out loudly not bothering to look up from his spot in front of the computer in the Batcave.  He hadn’t left his seat since returning from the gala.  He had barely waited until the limo was stopped before jumping out and reporting immediately to the batcomputer.  Unlike the rest of the family, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his suit from the gala yet, too focused on trying to glean all the information he could from the breadcrumbs Constantine had left behind.

They needed to track down that girl and figure out how much of a threat she was to them.  She had already proven herself to be a clear and present threat and they needed to establish if she needed to be neutralized.  First priority was Constantine though.  He seemed to be pulling the strings and had broken into the cave for a very specific reason and they needed to know what he knew and why he did it.  That meant figuring out what files he had accessed and where he was hiding.

“Were you able to get a general vicinity before he turned it off?” Dick asked coming up behind him.  Unlike Tim, he and the rest of the family had changed out of their suits and into pajamas before they started the post mortem on their night.

“Of course,” he scoffed at the audacity of the doubt.  “He didn’t turn it off that quickly.  He’s somewhere in Paris.”

“He likely left it on so we would know where to start our search,” Bruce nodded knowingly.  “Did he leave us any messages?  

“Just this note,” Tim motioned toward a section of the screen with a typed message, ‘You need to up your security.  Your move, Bats.”  Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples.

“What did he get?” Jason demanded from his spot leaning against a wall.

“A file on something called a ‘Miraculous’.” Tim responded.

“What the fuck is that?” Jason asked annoyed.  Something had to make sense tonight, just one thing. Sooner or later, something had to make some fucking sense.

“I’m not sure.  There isn’t much here.  Or rather there is a lot here but only a small portion of it is in a known language. The part I can translate says the Miraculous are magic jewels that grant powers that are potentially devastating on a global scale.  The rest is in a language that neither the computer nor I have ever seen.  I’m running translation algorithms but not getting anything... yet” Tim answered distractedly, still trying to read as much as he could as he was talking.  

“It says they wield a lot of power.  The League had plans a couple hundred years ago to try to steal them from something called ‘The Order of the Guardians’ but before they could enact their plan the Order’s compound was destroyed by an unknown force.  The League surmised it was a power of the miraculous.  They found no evidence of survivors or the miraculous.  They were able to gather some texts from the ruins, scans of which is what is in the files, but without the miraculous themselves, it isn’t much good.  There isn’t any translation offered so either we didn’t get that file from them, they weren’t able to translate it, or they gave up on trying to translate it.

Magic.  Mother fucking Hell. There went any hope Jason had of anything making sense.  Nothing ever made sense or went their fucking way when magic was involved.

“Any indication what that has to do with this girl or Paris?” Dick asked.

“None, but if I had to guess, which I do, I would say they are being used in Paris.” Tim responded.

“It isn’t like the League to give up, especially on something that could grant them power on a global scale.” Bruce noted.

“Agreed.  And there would have been reference to a translation here if there was one, so they likely were never able to translate it.” Tim nodded.

“That isn’t a good sign for us.” Jason commented.

“They aren’t me.  I’ll translate it.  Give me a week.” Tim said confidently.

Dick stared at the video of the earlier events in the cave playing on the far side of the screen.  “What do you think the odds are that the portal thing was somehow related to the Miraculous?  She seemed to have to transform to use it.” Dick noted.

Bruce nodded, “Good point.  Tim, go through the information in the files and the video and write up a summary,” Bruce ordered Tim.  Turning to Jason he said, “What do you know about her?

He snorted, oh now they fucking trusted his intuition.  He thought through the night with her.  She hadn’t said too much during the first part of the night, but he was a detective damn it, and a damn good one so he didn’t need words to figure someone out.  She had been fidgeting, she took care of the sexual assaulter quickly and discretely but hadn’t tried to fight Jason when he grabbed her later, she helped cheer up the kid with him, she kept up with his banter, she had a brilliant smile and looked gorgeous when she blushed… that probably isn’t relevant… accurate but not helpful in this particular situation.  She had figured them out after just observing them for a few minutes, she had cursed the hell out of Constantine and was damn sexy doing it, she said people were depending on her, she had somehow arranged a way to change her dress unnoticed with people around and looked hot as hell in both dresses.  It all came together to help form a personality profile in his mind and make the room feel significantly warmer.

“Has Anxiety.  Can protect herself but doesn’t like using violence.  Kind.  Witty.  Creative. Smart, like Tim level smart.  Dick Syndrome, shouldering the blame for everything that happens around her.  Does not like being lied to or manipulated.  Not wealthy.  Don’t think she was invited and she definitely didn’t want to be there.” He listed off.

Tim nodded along with the last part using it to springboard into another way to track her and Constantine, “Likely acquired by someone else who gave it to her, probably Constantine.  But since we would have recognized Constantine’s name and clearly he was trying to go under the radar on this, he asked someone else to get it.” He rolled the chair to the left and focused on a different monitor while starting the search for the list.

“Do we know if anyone asked for a ticket last minute?” Dick asked jumping on Tim’s train of thought.  If they could figure out who Constantine was working with they could ask them questions, get some leads.

“I’ll look through the invitation list and see if anything stands out,” Tim responded.

“This seems like a waste of effort, whoever that is probably doesn’t know anything more than Constantine wanted a ticket,” Jason countered. Why was this the focus?  The more important thing to focus on was what she said about Paris, not how she got in.  

“Whoever it is may be working with them as well and may know something.  It’s worth at least a look,” Dick explained.  “Anything else?”

Jason rolled his eyes, at least it meant they were looking into it and finally taking it seriously.  “She said there has been a supervillain in Paris for the last 5 years. The data Constantine was getting was related to that.  That data was supposed to help them fight the villain.  She said people were counting on her, which makes me think she’s a hero there….” he turned toward the sound of Damian scoffing as he made his way into the cave. “And Alfred likes her better than Demon Spawn.”  Jason smirked turning back towards the rest of the family.

“I will get my katana and gut you.  I only just succeeded in calming Alfred enough to rest.” Damian glared at Jason.  

“Yeah, because he was upset he wasn’t still with her,” Jason snarked quietly, but loudly enough for his words to be heard by everyone in the cave.

Tim chortled from his spot at the computer, “she does seem to have a way with demonic creatures, doesn’t she?  Constantine, Alfred… maybe we should send Demon Spawn to her too. She can tame the Hell Spawn.”  He kept his focus on the computer as he made his comment missing Damian’s face shift from anger to rage.  Jason snickered at the comment, pushing Damian over the edge after all the comments and events of the night.  

Damian jumped up from his chair to rush toward Jason, yelling something about a hussy and sullying.  Honestly, Jason couldn’t make out his exact words.  Tim only glanced back with the briefest of looks before returning to the computer.  Damian attacking Jason was nothing new.  It always ended with them getting separated before any real damage could be done and Jason chastised for defending himself because ‘Damian never meant to actually kill or seriously damage anyone during the attacks.  It was more of a venting session for him’.

Damian lamented that he hadn’t prepared properly for a confrontation as he rushed toward Jason.  He had prepared for bed, like the rest of the family and had left his katana and weapons in his room.  The weapons he used for patrol were on the other side of the cave, too far away to be of use right now.  But he was confident he didn’t need weapons to best Jason.

Damian jumped on the meeting table just at the last moment, using it as leverage to add height to the flying kick he sent towards Jason.  Jason anticipated the kick, Damian had been dumb enough to announce his attack, expecting everyone to react as they normally did.  What he didn’t anticipate, what none of them anticipated, was for Jason to not be in the fucking mood.  This was a long night already and the only good part of it they were belittling and to top it off Damian was attacking him again and no matter how it ended, he was going to get in trouble for it.

Just as Damian’s foot was about to land on Jason’s face he pushed it to the side and twisted, redirecting Damian’s momentum, causing him to crash harmlessly to the floor.  Damian jumped back up and ran at Jason.  He threw a punch to his side just a beat too slowly.  Jason twisted slightly again, just enough for the fist to fly past him then encouraged Damian’s momentum with a slight push of his own causing Damian to slam face first into the ground.  When he stood back up, ready to try again they could hear Dick in the background starting to intercede but Jason was too pissed to listen or to back down peacefully and Damian was still looking for a way to vent his frustration.  

“Stand still you giant oaf,” Damian screamed at Jason, running at him again.  Jason squared up against Damian and punched him in the center of his chest.  Damian went down hard as all the air left his lungs. Before he could take a breath Jason pulled him up by the back of his shirt, bringing Damian’s face close to his own, “how many times do I have to tell you, don’t start a fight you can’t finish, Shorty” he hissed at him before letting him drop.

Dick was next to Damian before he hit the ground checking him to make sure he was okay.  “What the hell, Jason!  Was that really necessary?  He wasn’t trying to hurt you.  You didn’t have to hit him that hard.  He was just letting off steam.”

“Then he should have gone after a practice dummy, not me.  And he should stop acting like a little jealous, elitist bitch.  I don’t understand why you dislike the galas so much, Damian, you’re right on track to be exactly like all those people there.  And for the record, if I’d wanted to hurt him, his sternum would be shattered right now instead of just bruised.”

“How dare you, you dimwitted, boorish, buffoon!” Damian hissed out, still breathing heavily and unable to yell.  “You’re so ready to defend that uncultured streetwalker over your own family.  You have no loyalty and no honor.”

“Way to prove his point, Demon.” Tim muttered from the computer.

“Alright, enough,” Bruce glared at Jason and Damian.  “We don’t have time for this.  Jason and you too Tim, Damian is a kid.  You’re adults.  Stop baiting him.”

“Y’all are going to have to decide if he is a kid or a vigilante assassin because you seem to blur the lines a lot.  Is he a kid or a tool to achieve your vengeance?” Jason seethed at the two older men in the room.

“As amusing as this show is and as much as I would love to hear the answer to that question,” Tim interceded, “let’s bring the focus back to the matter at hand; Constantine exposing us and bring a stranger into the cave.  I started looking for evidence of heroes in Paris and whatever she may have told you, I can’t find any news on any villains or superheroes in Paris or even France.  The only thing I have been able to find is a note on an official Paris city calendar about a Heroes Day to celebrate heroes.  But, it doesn’t specify particular heroes though so it could be everyday heroes or even heroes anywhere on Earth.  And we have to consider the very real possibility that she played Constantine.  If there was anything going on in Paris, let alone for 5 years, we would be able to find something, anything, but there is nothing.”

“Whatever else you want to say about him, Constantine is a good judge of people, when someone is playing an angle and when they are on the level, when that angle is really bad and when it’s just ‘bad’.  He didn’t break in here and leave that message for no reason.  The Miraculous is in play in Paris.  We need to decide what we are going to do about that.” Jason retorted.

“That inept excuse for a hero clearly isn’t doing a proper job of handling it.  We should intervene and handle it for her.  Show her what a hero really looks like.” Damian responded snidely still hunched over a bit.  Jason glared at him.  

“I’ve already taken you down once today, kid,” throwing the term in Damian’s face as a taunt, “I’ll do it again.  And if you believe that, then you also believe there is something going on there.  You’re admitting she was telling the truth.”  Damian scoffed in response and looked away.

“We know almost nothing about the situation in Paris.  The League’s notes said the Miraculous’ power could potentially affect the entire planet.  At the very least, we should gather as much information as we can on it, talk to the heroes there if there are any, see what we can do to help.” Dick suggested calmly.

“Them,” Tim corrected.  “The files indicated there is more than one miraculous.”

“And each one can affect the entire planet?” Bruce asked concerned.

“It is unclear from the data available.” Tim responded.

“Constantine’s phone was definitely in Paris, he left it on so we would know to go there.  He’s too experienced to make that mistake.  It was a clue about what our next step should be.  We should follow it.” Dick observed.

“So we are deciding to do exactly as the deranged dullard wanted us to do and playing into his plans,” Damian muttered from his spot at the table.  After everything that had happened that night they were going to just let him win. “Brilliant plan.”

“There is too much at stake to ignore it.  We follow the leads we have.  So we go plain clothes as reconnaissance, see what we can pick up by being there, but bring the suits so we can meet with the heroes there if we find something.  Dick, you and Damian can stay here and watch over Gotham while we are gone.” Bruce ordered, standing up to end the conversation.

“I’m going too.  Someone has to keep that wench from turning Todd against the rest of us.” Damian responded coldly.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.  He was not in the mood to deal with this right now.  There were too many unknowns.  “Fine.  I’ll ask Clark to be on call as backup for you Dick.  The rest of us go to Paris tomorrow.  Use the rest of today to get ready.”

“I’ll make the arrangements, Master Bruce.” Alfred announced from the doorway.

Chapter 4

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Jasonette July Day 3: Grave

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event

Prompt: Grave (EDIT : trying to make it look consistent)

Rated: T

Side note: Tikki and Plagg being the ones who created the Lazarus pits is my favourite bit of Maribat crossover lore. 

Marinette had only known Jason for about a year, ever since that day he commissioned her for a new suit and leather jacket design.  She had seen news reports about the Red Hood, but she had never seen him in person ever since she came to Gotham.  That was until he visited her just as she was getting ready to close up shop.  Marinette needed to know why her mysterious client was asking her to work with a great big bolt of Kevlar.   It seemed like a challenging task for the young boutique owner.  It wasn’t necessarily being used for nefarious purposes. He was a crimefighter, one of many that tried to keep Gotham safe.  Tikki felt like there was something strange about him, but she couldn’t quite put their finger on why.

She didn’t think she’d ever see him again, until one night when there was a loud banging on the boutique door.  Marinette was about to say something about people having no manners when she saw a redhead in a red suit and a green cap…with someone’s arm slung over his shoulder.  Marinette rushed to the front door to find the Red Hood, with his helmet cracked to reveal a part of his face.  She could make out some matted dark hair and a red domino mask around his eye.  “Please, do you think he can lay low in here for a while? At least until we can get him fixed up,” the redhead asked, “we can’t take him to the hospital”.   Marinette looked around before hurrying them inside.

She got to know more about Jason, the person behind the red mask.  There’s only so much you can hide from a person after they end up cleaning and stitching your wounds in their apartment.  He told her that he slept on the streets of Gotham before being taken in by Batman when he was 13.  He told her that, when he was 15, he went on a journey to find his birth mother and he was never the same since.  Jason would say that the old him died that day.  Marinette assumed he meant that he was so drastically changed by the experience, that he was unrecognizable from his old self.  Still, she got to know the person he was in that moment, and that was what mattered.  The two became close and started dating shortly after, and Marinette told him that she had been a superhero since she was 13.  Marinette remembered seeing a worried look on his face, before assuring him that she was up against very different villains from what he was used to in Gotham.  Marinette wondered if he was worried that she could have ended up like him?

Marinette knew that there was a roguish charm to him, possibly a remnant of the young boy he described from his past.  She would occasionally help him as Ladybug, and he became impressed with her quick thinking in a fight.  Marinette told him about the time she got a rocket launcher as a lucky charm and discarded it because she only needed the targeting laser.  She was certain that she saw a tear in his eye at that moment.  Marinette also knew he was someone who cared about those close to him, a group of people who now included her.  She got the chance to meet the rest of his adopted family, that is when he wasn’t at odds with them.  Dick reminded her far too much of Chat Noir, Damian was a lot colder and more standoffish, Tim told her he’s like that with everyone.   Though he wouldn’t admit it, Marinette knew Jason would put his life on the line for his adopted brothers.  She came to know Roy as the more optimistic of their dynamic duo, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t battling demons of his own.  As the year went on, Marinette went from being unsure about him, to feeling safe and warm with him by her side.  Even Tikki came to see that whoever this person was, he made their Guardian happy, and that was what mattered most.

Today, however, Marinette had been worried sick.  Jason had left for a mission in a rush, barely able to say goodbye.  That was days ago, he had not answered any of her messages or her calls.   She paced around the apartment in a panic, “why isn’t he answering? Is he hurt? Captured? Worse yet…dead?” She slapped her cheeks, trying to snap out of it.  

“Jason’s strong, he can handle it.  If he’s in trouble, I’m sure Dick or Tim would help him.  If he’s really in trouble, Bruce would certainly help him,” Tikki assured her as Marinette paced around the room.  

Marinette decided to take a trip to Wayne Manor, having some of Alfred’s baking would calm them both and she could ask him about Jason’s whereabouts.  Ladybug sets off to Wayne Manor, changing back before she arrives at the front gate.   When she arrives in the kitchen, she is greeted by Alfred wearing an apron. "Welcome Miss Dupain-Cheng, you're just in time. I'm doing the finishing touches on the ginger biscuits. Why don't you take a seat while they cool?"

Marinette smiles at Alfred,  she could smell the biscuits from the front door. "Thanks, Alfred, I came to ask about Jason. I haven’t heard from him in a while,” she asked.

Alfred scratched his chin, "Master Todd? It would be best to ask Master Bruce then if it's related to work. He is currently asleep and should wake up in an hour or two"

“Thanks, Alfred, mind if I have a few biscuits to go then? I'd like to have a walk in the gardens, " she asked.

Alfred nodded and handed the biscuits to her in a paper bag. 

Marinette took a stroll around Wayne Manor, walking past Damian drawing something, whilst a large dog was curled around him.   She came across the private Wayne cemetery at the very edge of the estate. She was drawn in by the Gothic architecture and design of the area. Curious about the history of the Wayne family, she tentatively wandered into the graveyard.  She saw the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Everyone knew the story of how Bruce watched in horror as they were killed in Crime Alley. 

She froze in shock as she saw one grave in particular, tears began forming in her eyes. “Here Lies Jason Peter Todd: Gone But Not Forgotten” in large bold letters.  She felt her heart breaking, many questions raced through her mind.  How did he die? Why didn’t anyone tell her? Did no one at least think to invite her to the funeral?  She was too stunned to move, Tikki floated down to take a close look.  Before she could utterly break down in tears, she heard a voice behind her.

“Hey, Pixie Pop” Marinette whipped around to see Jason standing before her.  He was casually eating a chilli dog, acting as if standing in front of his gravestone was the most natural thing in the world.  Marinette didn’t know if she should feel happy, distraught or furious.  At first, she slammed into him, hugging him tightly.  “Hey, Pixie, did you miss me that much?” He was about to return her hug, and maybe finish eating the chilli dog over her shoulder, when she softly pounded her fists into his chest.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She asked, her fists punctuating her words, Jason was trying to make sense of what she meant.  He had told her that he had died before, or at least tried to.  Even he didn’t like to talk about it, the events leading up to it and how he was brought back.  Eventually, she stopped, and just curled into him with tears streaming down her face.  Right now, the last thing she needed was dumb jokes as he held her close to him. 

“I’m sorry, I” Jason tried to explain, only to be interrupted by Tikki.

“Marinette,” Tikki called, Marinette looked back at the gravestone to see the date written on the tombstone.  The year was 7 years ago when Jason was around 15.

She turned back to Jason “so when you said that your old self died…”, Tikki finally realised why she always felt there was something strange about him.  The Lazarus pits, the result of a wish that she and Plagg were forced to grant long ago.  Tikki could sense her magic on him, and a faint hint of Plagg’s magic that would consume him if left unchecked.  In the time he’d known Marinette, he had managed to keep it under control, for her sake.

“So what happened? These last few days I mean,” she asked as she pulled away, wiping her tears on her sleeves before crossing her arms.

“I was gonna call you, Roy and I were in Paris fighting killer mimes when one of them fried my phone,” he explained.  “I tried to get you something to eat from your parents’ bakery on the last day we were there, your parents said ‘hi’ by the way”, he told her. 

“Then what happened?” she asked, he wasn’t holding any paper bags or boxes with their logo on them.

“Roy ate them all is what happened, right after his little talk with Killer Croc,” he told her.

“So why didn’t you just drop by for a visit when you came back?” she asked.

“We tried to, but Roy was craving chilli dogs and I was just ready to crash,” he replied.  The look on Marinette’s face told him that if he didn’t do something, he might be back in that grave a lot sooner than he thought.  “Look, I’ll make it up to you, starting with taking you to that little craft store you love…” he suggested, the corner of her mouth pulled into a slight smile.  “I’ll buy you as much silk, satin and tulle as you want. Paid for with money we got from kicking killer mime ass”, he promised. 

“You mean I’ll get a chance to sew something that isn’t Kevlar, leather or your flesh? Who are you and what have you done with the real Jason?” She asked jokingly.  As the two of them walked away, Jason wrapped his arm around her.  He glanced back at his tombstone, that boy had been gone for quite some time now.  Right now, he was just trying to be a better man.

[salty-fang]

Twisted Fate Sugar Edition

Part three (sorry for the long wait) thanks for being patient @loveswifi

Marinette had had a weird day. She had kept being pulled in the direction of people who could’ve been mistaken for male versions of herself. Jason, Tim and Dick.

She had met Jason first. She had taken a quick detour from her hour-long trip to the fabric store. It had been a week after her outing with Gina, Alfred and Bruce Wayne but a week before the whole Lila debacle. She hadn’t expected Lila to even be in Gotham so Marinette didn’t feel the need to worry. She should have.

----------------------------------------------------

Jason had loads of knowledge on malicious stalking. Growing up as a vigilante taught him some things. So, he was truly stunned when he saw two shady people watched that pregnant woman with wolfish glares that he actually felt the need to follow them. He dragged her out of there line of sight, which without an explanation was pretty stupid. She’d kicked him in the balls causing him to hiss.

“Let go of me.”

“I’m trying to help you. A woman and a man have been watching you for a fucking long time. I just wanted to make sure you knew them. By the way, I’m Jason Todd.”

“Marinette.”

“One of them literally has sausages for hair. I think I’m going to have nightmares for a while.”

“Ugh, you should meet Lila Rossi.”

“Agreste's new wife?”

“Yup. Her eyes are so cold and dead. And she wears so much orange. It’s so painful when you actually look at her that I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.”

“Yo, this chick is the same. You sure we aren’t talking about the same person?” she snuck a quick look around the corner, laughing at the confusion on both Lila and Kim’s faces. She’d laughed too loud as Lila’s head whipped in her direction.

“That’s definitely her. Still as annoying as ever.” Kim had whispered something in Lila's ear just as she rounded the corner. They had started sprinting towards her and were going to catch her if she didn’t move her ass.

‘I can’t run far in heels. I’m going to have to catch a bus. The doctor did tell me to take it easy. Can’t affect those triplets with too much movement.’

She had only made it outside the door when she felt herself be hoisted onto sturdy shoulders.

“Let go of me! Oh it’s you Jay. Give a girl some warning will ya!” she said sighing in exasperation.

“Sorry but you really thought I was going to watch them hurt my little sis.”

“Hey! I’m not little. And put me down. “

“That’s what your focused on? And I won’t put you down. You may think you don’t need help but you’re wrong. So let your good big bro do his job.

“Good my ass,” she muttered, ducking under a signpost. “More like arrogant goofball.” Kim and Lila had either disappeared or they just blended in with the crowd very well. They’d probably lost them. Thank God for that.

“Jay, you can put me down now.”

“Huh, are they gone?”

“Yup.” She said popping the ‘p'. “Thank you Jay. For everything.”

“No worries, pixie pop. You’re my sis. I’d kill a bitch for you.” Marinette had fallen in line with Jason. But with his long strides and her pregnancy she was always steps behind him. Sure he’d fall back to match her pace but Lila had waited until the perfect moment to capitalise. She’d tried to scream for help but she had lost the ability to. They dragged her round the corner to one of her favourite cafés. Her head ached where Lila had pulled tightly on her braid (think Lady Noire) as she felt several strands of her hair fall out. Had no one found her being dragged around slightly disturbing?

She supposed no one cared about business that didn’t affect them in Gotham. Wow. Great, just great. She’d submitted herself fully when another blue-eyed black-haired man had come to her rescue. Seriously, was everyone in Gotham like Jay Jay or had he just been a manifestation of her sleep deprivation. He’d seemed so real, so human but it wouldn’t be the first time her mind would make something so absurd up. It was probably her loneliness acting up again. There was no way any sane person would stay around her for so long.

---------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly it had been Tim who saved her, though she hadn’t known that. Unsurprisingly, Jay and him had two distinctly different personalities. He lived off coffee, looked twice his age with those bags but had such wit about him that he could manipulate the situation without the other party realising. He had been surrounded by so many coffee cups that she had thought he had been in his final year preparing for exams or perhaps working night shifts every day of the week. But nooooo, he was the co-CEO of a business. Starting at the age of 17. Marinette had felt some of the burden dropped on her and she wasn’t even in his position. No wonder he looked like he needed a pick me up. It was just as well that she’d come equipped with her special coffee. She’d make more for Gina later, he needed it more. Plus, Gigi wouldn’t be back in hours.

“I know you said it was alright to sit with you uhh...”

“Tim.”

“Right, Tim. I don’t want to bother you anymore but that coffee looks like it doesn’t do shit for you. I made some for my grandma but she won’t be back for ages so maybe... you would like it?” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Of course he won’t want some he probably thinks you’re a weirdo who poisoned his drink. Maybe you can take it back from him? “ on second thought-"

“Sure. Why not?” Ok Tim needs sleep. My God, I could have spiked his drink and he accepted it. He’s so vulnerable like this.

“If I give you my drink it will probably take a minute to kick in but... but you have to promise me that you’ll drink my power down later. If you don’t I’ll find you and I’ll get you to sleep one way or another. Don’t test me.” He gulped, eyes wide as he frantically nodded. “Good. Now would you like some pastries to go with your Marinette’s Super Special?” Her shift in character made him freeze. He couldn’t find his voice quick enough and instead opted for a simple thumbs up. She dug two flasks out of her bag, placing one in front of him and sniffed her own. Then, she brought two plates out, setting out croissants so buttery they made him drool, raspberry macaroons and a dozen mini chocolate chip muffins.

“You look like you needed a sugar rush so I guessed what you might like. Sorry if they’re not your favourites. Now chop chop eat up child!” Tim took a tentative sip of his drink feeling it slip down his throat. It had been just how he liked it yet slightly stronger. And then he felt the kick. It had been so small that his brain glossed over it but it’d been there. He was starting to feel more human again. And it had shown. His face had become less pallid and gaunt, his eyes held a fire that had been previously extinguished and his movements became less robotic, almost lighter. Before Marinette could utter ‘I told you so' everything had vanished. Tim was never usually a messy eater but he definitely was right now. Chocolate was smeared all over his chin , flakes from the croissant had littered around his suit and coffee had spilt on his white polo shirt.

“Beanie,” he muttered, a wild look in his egyptian blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re real. Or I at least died and went to heaven. You’re too sweet not to be in my life. I don’t know how I lived without you before. Please, I need you as my dealer. Your coffee is the only one I’ll ever drink again. Please.”

----------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t every day you saw Tim Drake beg on his knees and whine. But when you did, you would probably laugh your ass off. Whoever that poor girl was had just attracted the attention of invasive photographers. Unlucky, but at least they would get a show out of it.

“If I give you my coffee you’re not going to sleep. You’re going to be a living zombie and I can’t live with that. I’d rather not have anyone connecting me with your death from excessive tiredness.” Tim knew he had to play dirty if he was going to win. Thankfully, Steph had taught him how to master the art of puppy dog eyes which he aimed at Marinette. He then wrapped his arms around her leg, consequently being dragged along the unsanitary sidewalk to where both their belongings were.

“Please please please please PLEASE.” He noticed Marinette’s will become fragile. He wobbled his bottom lip, sniffling softly. “I’ll stop begging if you say yes. Please beanie.”

“Fine.” She huffed whilst he fist pumped the air. “But we do things on my terms alright?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Jeez. You’ve given me a headache.” She stated aiming a half-hearted glare at a sheepish Tim. “That’s an achievement, dude, not even Chloé could do that and her tantrums were super bratty.”

He had gone to apologise when shrill ringing rang in the air.

“Sorry,” he mouthed. “ I have to take this.”

“Jason what do you want? You just interrupted my deal with my dealer.”

“ I didn’t know you had it in you. But now isn’t the time. I need you to check security where you are. Pixie pop's gone missing.”

“Pixie pop?”

“I’ll explain later but right now she’s in danger. See you in 5 replacement.” With nothing left to say the line went dead and he decided to run some checks on Jason’s location whilst idly chatting with Marinette. She had asked for his unique insight on her latest design.

“What shade would you use on this? I’m only asking because of your peculiar style.”

“Definitely lavender but towards the bottom fade into a dark purple. And peculiar?”

“Who wears a suit on a hot summers day?” she asked eyebrow raised.

“Me. Batman. Business owners. Cosplayers. Bruce Wayne. The list could go on but I don’t have all day.” He said throwing an exaggerated wink at her.

“None of those people you mentioned are normal except maybe cosplayers so it doesn’t count. Better luck next time. I’m going to go pee.” Tim had opened his mouth to respond when he spotted Jason. He looked terrible. His hair was matted against his forehead with sweat, his eyes were bloodshot.

“I came as soon as I could. What did you find replacement? Spit it out. I don’t have all fucking day.”

“First, I want you to meet me dealer and then we can talk about what happened to ‘pixie' and who they even are.”

“Tim, as much as I’d love to meet your drug buddy, it’ll have to wait. She’s more important. I’m worried that the people who took her are going to seriously harm her.”

“Fine but you’re missing out on meeting the sweetest girl ever.”

“I’ll pass.” Jason snarled before turning back to the pixelated security feed. “That was where I last saw her. That’s weird. It’s like she disappeared from all footage. Do you have any other leads?”

“Jay-Jay?” Marinette barrelled into him locking him in a hug. “How do you know tater-tot?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry little lady but I’m looking for someone. Holy shit, is that you pixie pop?”

“Yup and who you calling little lady? I’m fun sized and could totally whoop your ass if I wasn’t pregnant. Just remember that Jason.” The way she had said his name sent shivers up his spine. She had delivered her sentence as a fact, not a threat.

“That’s why you’re my favourite, pixie pop.” Jason said, tearing up.

“Replacement, how did you even save Marinette?”

“They probably took a look at his half dead state and got scared off.” After an hour of re-introduction, they finally left. Jason drove her back on his motorcycle and dumped Tim’s limp body (from drinking Marinette’s calming chai tea) on his back.

With many hours to kill before Gina would be back from her night shift, she got changed into her gym clothes- a pink shirt with short sleeves and grey shorts- and headed to her local sports centre. Surprisingly, it was Dick who saved her this time

Marinette had been doing light exercise to keep in shape every day since she arrived in Gotham. She had a daily routine of squats, sit ups and weights, moving at her own pace. She had only attended the gym once before this and everyone had been friendly or had just gone about their days. Today was the first day anyone had actually approached her

“Hey sunshine, is it alright if I call you sunshine?” She nodded. “There’s a creepy guy watching you. He hasn’t actually done any workouts but he’s pointing his phone at you for a hell of a long time.”

“Thank you for telling me...”

“Richard but you can call me Dick.” She snickered. “If you want to that is.” Dick walked away to take a quick call from his brother when...

WARNING: YOU MIGHT NOT BE COMFORTABLE READING THIS PART. TW: sexual harassment. I'll put a brief summary at the bottom if you would rather skip

When she felt a firm hand squeeze her ass. She felt it trail down her shorts before she could even look at their face. She leapt away from his grasp, her breathing heavy as she looked around for any support. Unfortunately, the gym was empty, giving the predator an easy advantage.

“Hey baby did anyone tell you you’re damn sexy when you smile? Cuz you definitely are.” he aimed a snide smile at her. His yellow teeth glinted and his heady scent made her sick. “Princess, come back to mine tonight. We could have so much fun together and I’ll make you scream until you forget your own name. So, how about it?” He had approached he, pushing her boundaries, forcing her to back up against the wall.

‘No. Not ever. But especially not today.’

Marinette paled quickly. Gina wouldn’t be home for hours and he would most likely follow her home anyways. With no one to bear witness to this, he could do as he pleased. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could seriously hurt her or worse... and there would be nothing she could do about it. She’d just fade into the background, just another statistic. No one would believe her because ‘she shouldn’t have dressed like that’ and ‘she definitely wanted it’. So, she would fight and if he won well so be it. At least she had done all she could.

“Has anyone told you it’s rude to hit on people’s girlfriends?” Dick said forcing himself between them. He knew she could handle it but something about that guy made him uneasy. Marinette had exuded confidence but she still trembled and he could see how tense her muscles had been.

“He’s your boyfriend? You could do so much better than him. Just tell him your coming home with me. Or better yet, I’ll pay you to do it in front of me.” Marinette could see the repulsion on Dick’s face, as she gagged. “Yes, that would be way better. I’ll seriously pay you. Got a couple hundred bucks if you want it.” He stated palming himself through his jeans.

“No thanks. Maybe after she’s given birth?”

“She’s pregnant? What a slut. I bet she poked holes in your condom so you wouldn’t be able to leave her. Anyways, got to get back home to the wife and kids. Hit me up when she’s good again.” Marinette flung her arms around Dick as soon as she was sure he was gone.

Tw over

“Thank you so much. He wouldn't have stopped if you hadn’t come Dick.”

“No problem, sunshine.”

“It’s Marinette.” She mumbled, scuffing her shoes against the gym floor.

“What?”

“The name's Marinette. I would have loved to meet you under different circumstances. Oh well. Nice to meet you anyways.”

“You too Mari. Are you driving back home?”

“I actually walked her. I’ll probably just call a taxi or walk back.”

“No way sunshine. That guy is a huge sleaze ball. I don’t doubt that he’ll try something funny. If no one’s coming to pick you up I’ll walk you back home. Ok?”

“Ok.”

Dick had been completely right. The dude had been waiting outside, most likely waiting for Mari to leave but when he saw them leave together, he raced to his car. Dick had memorized his license plate and got a brief description of the car but he would probably dump it somewhere. Still, no harm in trying. He watched constantly to see if he was following them and took some turns to shake him off. In the end, they had arrived and Dick hadn’t left until he saw her actually enter her apartment. He had to tell everyone about Marinette.

-------------------------------------------------

Marinette’s battery had been drained, both physically and socially after that week. Lila had pissed her off and she felt really bad for that guy she spewed on. Not like she would see him again. She’d spent all week working on the dress Tim helped her with to wear to her visit to the Wayne’s tomorrow. It had been her fastest completed project ever, though she had neglected eating and sleeping. Marinette had to agree with Tim. The fade into dark purple had been a nice addition and made it really stand out. Even Penny had thought so when she saw it on their chat about commissions. A hungover Jagged threw a ‘rock’n’roll’ over her shoulder and Marinette had felt a pang in her heart at the tenderness they treated each other with. Maybe, one day she could have that special bond with someone too. But she needed to focus on helping herself heal first. She could see the apologetic look written over Penny’s face to which she giggled at before declaring that she needed some rest.

Gina had forced her to rest before they visited the Wayne’s. Apparently today had been Thursday not Wednesday? The days had just blended into one. She had been intrigued to meet the rest of the family but she felt so weak.

‘Oh well,’ she thought. ‘Nothing a little tea can’t fix.’

Since she had found out she was pregnant, all her normal guilty pleasures had been off limits. No double espresso as bitter as her soul and no alcohol. She had to adapt to the restrictions because of her doctor. So, she whipped up a tea as strong as her go to coffee with way less caffeine. It had still her the kick she needed but it wasn’t as good as she would have liked. Still, she’d take what she could get. It still aggravated her when she would reach for a glass of white wine or coffee beans forgetting about the warnings. It aggravated her when she would call out to Tikki to transform forgetting she was no longer by her side. She would toy with her empty earlobes before letting her tears fall freely. Tikki had been the most loyal-kwami or human- and she still got taken. She wouldn’t pretend it hadn’t hurt but she had moved on. Some days she would remember she wasn’t with her and cry but on some she’d pretend everything was normal. Today was one of those days where she wore herself out from crying. Gina had caught her but even she knew Marinette needed space, assuming she was still upset about Adrien.

After a good half an hour of crying, she went to freshen up refusing to look like a puffer fish when she met everyone. Dabbling at her eyes, she applied light mascara and used concealer under her bags so she wouldn’t look as dead as Tim. She slipped into the dress, wearing it with pride. It had fit like a glove exemplifying her curves and showing her protruding baby bump. That had been the only downside as she wanted it to be a surprise. Though, nothing slipped past Alfred’s keen eyes. She’d been puzzled as to how she could style her hair before she settled on voluminous curls. It had required Gina’s help and a hell of a lot of hairspray but it had been worth it. She set her flower crown upon her head (delivered to her by Adrien) and placed one on Gina's. She’d been quite surprised when Gina told her she would have to go by herself but it wouldn’t be too bad. Alfred and Bruce were kind so she could just chat with them if the others were rude.

--------------------------------------------------

Damian was annoyed. Gina was late. Very late. And he’d been waiting for hours for her to arrive. A soft rap on the door sent him flying out of his seat as he scrambled to unlock the door. He’d expected Gina but on their doorstep was that angel from before.

“You,” he whispered. “Why are you here?” He didn’t like feeling confused so he schooled his features to be cold and cynical. Footsteps behind him caused him to instinctively slam the door shut.

“Sorry angel.” Not that she could hear him. Jason had stood behind him, watching him with curiosity.

“Demon spawn. Who was at the door?” Shit. He couldn’t exactly say how he knew her or his reputation would be tarnished. Everyone in his family knew Todd was the biggest gossiper and he would definitely spread the news. Like hell would he tell Todd. He’d take that secret to his grave.

"It was bArBarA. I mean Gordon. Yeah it was Gordon.” His voice may have cracked several times but it was a convincing lie, right?

“One, you almost never call people by their first names.” Jason said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Two your voice sounded awful. And you don’t stray from perfection. So, what’s your deal?

“Puberty?” He shrugged trying to conceal his panic.

“I’ll take your bullshit for now but you forgot Barbara’s already here. Let’s try this again. Who was at the door?”

“It was that harlot that Grayson suggested I try to court.

“Oh, that bitch. She’s all yours. Just keep her away from me. And Damian when dinner is over, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you. Make no mistake.” And with that, he threw a quick salute over his shoulder and strolled away. Damian had let out a sigh of relief, turning to walk away before he remembered who was still outside.

“Todd tell everyone I went to the bathroom.” He yelled shutting the front door before he could hear his reply. He descended down the stairs only to find her missing. He had begun mapping out all the locations of the manor when his eyes fell upon her. He felt the air forcibly be removed from his lungs and he remained unmoving. Awestruck. His heart squeezed as he watched her sniff his magnolias that he tended to. The way her dress pooled around her and the small but present baby bump had made him flush.

‘She truly was an angel.’ His eyes glanced at the flower crown entangled in her inky locks as the moonlit sky enhanced her celestial look. ‘She’s also much more than that though.’

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” She saw his mortified face. “You know getting a door slammed in your face isn’t the greatest first impression a family could give.”

“I’m sorry. But what are you doing here?”

“Expecting a warm welcome, not being left out in the cold, really anything but this. And I don’t even know you so...”

"You do."

"Excuse me?"

"You puked on me. I didn’t think you were going to ever see me again so you surprised me. I didn’t want to explain to anyone how we were acquainted.”

"I’m so sorry. It’s these stupid hormones. And that stupid Lila. Everything is just stupid."

"Lila Rossi? She is pretty stupid.” And then something changed. His face was softer and he hadn’t looked like he would bite her head off. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m waiting for my grandma but maybe tomorrow. I’m meeting a stuck-up client so I’m gonna need to vent. I’ll tell you the details later?”

“Fine with me.” She hobbled away. She had been patiently waiting by the doorstep, her soft rap probably inaudible due to all the chaos. He whipped out his spare key, unlocking the door. He hadn’t expected that soft click to prompt the attention of his whole family.

"Marinette-"

“Beanie?”

“Pixie pop?”

“Sunshine?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH DAMIAN?” they screamed, rushing forwards to envelop her in hugs.

“I let her in. You guys didn’t even hear her knocking. Wait, how do you all know Angel?”

His eyes nervously flitted to hers at the slip of his private nickname. He saw the flush on her cheeks as her mouth formed a small ‘o'. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes as the others taunted him for his cute pet name. He felt Dick ruffle his hair, which took a while to style, and Jason poke his sides. He felt Tim snicker and Barbara pinch his cheek. And he felt Marinette link their hands together in solidarity, enduring the teasing with him. They had been so embarrassed that they completely missed the arrival of Gina and the scheming look on Alfred’s face who dished her the gossip. They missed the dark but silent chuckle that left both Gina and Alfred as they decided to meddle in their kids failing love lives.

“What’d I miss, my little chicks? Because Mama’s home.”

NOTES (optional)

In the part labelled with tw here is what happens:

Creepy old 50 year old man hits on Marinette and feels her up. He asks her to come home with him but Dick helps her out and stops him. He tells them he would pay to watch them go at it and calls Marinette names. He eventually 'leaves' to his wife and kids.

Tags:

@sassakitty @lunathealphafemale @krispydefendorpolice @blackmagicforever @nach0ava @wannajointhecrabcult @thornalchemist23 @moonlightstar64 @iloveitwhen @little-angel1031 @screwthisshit111 @rebecarojas07 @animegirlweeb @mystery-5-5 @moonystars14 @gingerdaile @spyofthenightcourt @mialuvscats @notmycupoftea26 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @kuroko26 @miracleofadisaster @novicevoice @iloontjeboontje @abrx2002

[shmowlwrites]

(LATE) NaNoWriMo Day 4

Daminette pls. But going off the “Wonder Woman’s mother was a Ladybug” thing. Sister/mentor/(personal favorite) treating Marinette like her mom. Whatever you like.

Okay so this turned out as a general “found family” kind of thing and Daminette doesn’t happen until later. Adrien is a decent human being in this because I’m so tired of writing and reading salt that I’m just going to leave the readers to assume Adrien actually had character growth in the show and stopped being a pushy, petty, sacrificial child. 

Anyway, this thing was 2340 words so buckle in babes!

Diana Prince perhaps should have been aware of the Hawkmoth problem, seeing as she was an employee of the Louvre. But do not blame her, she would have known the problem her city was going through if she hadn’t been on leave to deal with the other side of the world’s problems. 

It was a year before she finally got to return. A year that had so much happen within it. She finally learned of the Hawkmoth issue when Hal was complaining about this reoccurring video about “Miraculous” that also managed to delete itself. If he got to watch it as soon as it appeared, he could only get halfway through before it disappeared again. He couldn’t trace it to the city it came from. Ladybug and Chat Noir never said where they were from before the video deleted itself. But he was also complaining about the Miraculous. What were they? What did they do? Ladybug and Chat Noir only said they held those Miraculous.

Diana knew. Diana nearly threw a fit at the knowledge that the miraculi were active again, somewhere in the world, and she never knew.

On her first day back at the Louvre, her boss filled her in on everything that had happened and she wanted to strangle this “Hawkmoth” and “Mayura.”

Representing the Justice League, Diana, as Wonder Woman, managed to find Ladybug and Chat Noir while they were out on a patrol. Ladybug was stiffly polite and Chat Noir was acting like a puppy getting adopted. Several meetings later, Diana learned that Ladybug didn’t know how to respond to the daughter of a previous holder. 

In her meetings with them, Diana could only keep thinking of one thing: whoever their previous mentor was, they sucked. Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t know much about their powers. They didn’t know the history of their Miraculous. They didn’t know how to properly fight and had been winging their battles since day 1. 

Diana found herself connecting to the two strongly. Ladybug was like the little sister she never had. Chat Noir was like a son who melted in any show of affection - which strangely also included compliments on growth. 

“I think what you two need is to get out of the city and learn how to fight from someone who has taught kids how to protect themselves quickly,” Diana found herself saying during a break in a training session. 

“But what if Hawkmoth sends out an Akuma while we’re gone?” Ladybug fretted.

“You have the horse miraculous, yes?” Diana nodded to the egg box. 

“Oh… you want me to take that with us?” Ladybug’s brow furrowed even more.

“Of course! Right now, I’d say nowhere is safer for the miraculous than with you. The temple is still regrowing, they won’t know what to do with your box while it is still incomplete. But, if you are so anxious about leaving Paris, I might be able to convince my friend and one of his sons to come here instead.”

“Really?” Chat Noir perked.

Diana gave him an easy smile. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“For us?” Ladybug asked.

“You two are like my family by now,” Diana held out her hands. “And my friend will do anything for family.”

Bruce and Damian Wayne were in Paris by the end of the week. 16-year-old Damian was still a brat, but he was still a growing teenage boy forgetting old customs and learning about the real world. Bruce thought getting him around other young superheroes might help- he was horrendous at socializing with civilians due to still believing he was superior. 

That was a horrible mistake, Robin’s first act was to insult everything about Ladybug and Chat Noir. After a good long lecture from both Bruce and Diana, Robin apologized to both… in a way that left them more confused than accepting of him. 

A week later, Bruce tried the “let’s have a civilian day” card. Ladybug nearly threw a fit.

“We aren’t supposed to know each other’s identities!” She recited.

“Why not?” Robin scrunched his face. “I know all of-”

“You’re Gotham’s superheroes,” Chat sighed. “You don’t deal with a magical emotional terrorist. Ladybug and I are not immune to Akumas, we aren’t immune to strong emotions. What if one of us gets Akumatized and we know the other’s identity? We could tell Hawkmoth. We could succeed in taking the other’s Miraculous. And then what? He wins. We have to stay secret until Hawkmoth is gone.” He said it with practice, the concept having been drilled into his mind by Ladybug during their earlier days. 

“I’m sorry, Batman and Robin, we would like to, but please understand that for the safety of Paris, we literally cannot,” Ladybug gave a sad smile. 

They were there for another week before Robin, after pinning Ladybug with the end of his katana, suggested just hacking CTV cameras to track Akumas.

“It might work,” Chat grinned, before getting a light punch to the stomach and a “constant vigilance!” from Batman. 

“I surrender,” Ladybug told Robin before pushing Robin’s katana away and pushing herself into a sitting position. “It might. But I don’t have high hopes- kwami can’t even be seen on camera. What’s to say the effects of a Miraculous can’t either?”

“But,” Chat was buzzing, “you’re Cure always does! We’ve seen it on the news enough times.”

Ladybug pursed her lips. “I don’t know the first thing about hacking.”

“Good thing we do,” Robin cracked a grin.

“Do you normally find such joy in illegal activities?”

“Are you kidding me?” Chat’s voice was shrill and Ladybug had turned to Diana with wide eyes.

“Is it true?”

“We didn’t tamper with the footage besides getting it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Robin shrugged.

“But- but-” Chat sputtered, his cat pupils in fearful slits and tears glossing his eyes.

“Chat?” Ladybug softly called.

“That’s,” Chat’s bottom lip trembled and he looked between Ladybug and Diana. “That’s my house. Hawkmoth can’t be my dad- he can’t be!” Chat shook his head in denial. 

Ladybug paused in trying to comfort Chat, now realizing the boy before her was Adrien, the boy that used to be her crush. She was unsure on how to continue.

“Chat,” Diana spoke, moving forward to slowly place her hands on his shoulders. “Whether or not your father is Hawkmoth, somebody is sending out Akumas from your house. Since this is personal now, do you want to go with us? We’ll understand if you don’t.”

Chat blinked several times and looked between each person in his company. “I- I’ll go. You’ll need my help to get inside anyway.”

And so, in the middle of the next almost harmless Akuma attack, Adrien stayed in his room rather than go out. He popped open his window. Batman, Robin, Wonder Woman, and Ladybug swung inside and they began their journey through the house. Adrien led them to Gabriel’s study and faced the portrait of his mother. 

“There’s a safe behind the portrait. It’s where I found the grimoire. And now that I think about it, the peacock miraculous was in there too. I didn’t think much about it at the time,” Adrien rubbed his arms. Wonder Woman reached out and he grabbed her fingers in comfort.

“What’s done is done, do you think the portrait could also lead to where Hawkmoth is?” Batman asked.

“I think?” Adrien scrunched his face.

Robin walked up to the portrait, running his fingers around it. “There certainly are buttons on this, under the guise of being mosaic pieces.”

Adrien stepped up to it, fitting his fingers onto the supposed buttons, and before anyone could protest, he pressed them. The floor below them opened up and the elevator began to descend. They quickly fitted themselves into the tiny space.

Gabriel was standing in the middle of a garden, before something brightly white.

“Father?” Adrien’s voice was hardly audible but Gabriel Agreste still whipped around and saw the group of five. 

“Adrien!” He barked, unsure of who to call. “My son…”

“Father, no,” Adrien moaned, backing away. “How could you!”

“Adrien, I’ve been doing this for us! I’m bringing Emilie back. Don’t you want to see your mother again?” Gabriel stepped aside, tilting his head towards the coffin. 

“I would, but not this way,” Adrien shook his head, looking away from his father and the coffin. “I’ve grieved and moved on. Mom is dead and you shouldn’t be trying to change that!”

Gabriel frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Fine then. Nooroo, Dark Wings, Rise!”

 He called his Akuma back and sent another one, to whom they didn’t know. But what they were trying to do was get the brooch back. Gabriel, Hawkmoth, had almost lost from the shock of seeing his son transform into one of his own enemies, Chat Noir. 

Mayura joined, but Robin was quick to bring her down when she had doubled over from the sickness her Miraculous was causing her. Volpina made another return, hindering a good portion of the entire operation. Chat Noir had accidentally cataclysm-ed the entire platform, sending everyone down. There, in the dark and in the knee-high water, they continued the battle. Hawkmoth’s cane was shattered and he hid behind Volpina and her illusions. 

Volpina held up a good fight, but her mistake was physically attacking Ladybug. That had cemented her as the real Volpina.

“Finally,” Volpina screeched, hands on Ladybug’s earrings. “Finally! You little bug will finally be gone!”

She had gotten one earring out before Robin had sent a flying kick towards her, and the two of them began wrestling in the water. Ladybug was slowly disappearing, and the familiar form of Marinette was coming out of the suit. 

“Tikki, Spots off! Where’s my other earring?” The two of them began hunting the earring.

Chat Noir’s timer was finally up, and he returned into Adrien and was kicked away by his own father. “Plagg!” 

Diana finally managed to shove Hawkmoth’s face under the water and rip the brooch off and left Gabriel to find Marinette. Batman held the struggling Gabriel by his arms.

“What’s her Akuma?” Robin called, having learned the same trick.

“It should be her necklace! Don’t destroy it, we need Ladybug to purify it!” Adrien responded, finally finding Plagg and giving him a soggy slice of cheese. His night vision back, he dove under and plucked the earring from the ground and pushed it into Marinette’s hand. 

“Tikki, spots on!” Marinette called and Ladybug shot at Volpina and ripped the necklace off of her. The familiar sound of the Akuma’s wings managed to be heard over the infuriated screeches of Lila and the struggling grunts of Gabriel. Ladybug caught and released the Akuma. 

Emilie’s coffin was found in perfect condition after the Cure was cast. Gabriel and Lila were given to the police. Afterward, Adrien and Marinette were standing in front of it. 

“Do you think perhaps she isn't actually dead?” Adrien asked, reaching out to touch the coffin while Diana came walking up behind them.

“A misused Miraculous can be damaged, and a damaged Miraculous will injure anyone who uses it,” Diana explained, taking her circlet off. 

“I had thought Nathalie was sick with the same thing as Mom, they both started coughing before it began to actually start crippling them. I wonder why she was using the Peacock, then,” Adrien trembled.

“The temple might be able to help,” Marinette suggested. “They are the ones who know everything about the Miraculous. And, now we finally have the whole box.”

“You might be right, sister,” Diana placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “But don’t put all your faith in them. They might not be able to bring her back.”

“If-” Adrien began, his voice trembling. “If they don’t, where am I going to go?”

Diana offered her hand again and he squeezed her fingers. “If you want, I would take you.”

“You would?” Adrien raised his eyebrows.

“Of course,” Diana grinned. “Marinette is like the little sister I never had. You, you are like a son to me. Marinette has her family and has grown with guidance. You… when I came, you were like what I imagine Bruce feels when he found his sons. Someone who needed guidance. Someone who needed an adult there who cared.”

Adrien looked on the verge of tears.

Emilie truly was dead, when they gave her to the temple. Adrien changed his last name to Prince and stayed with Diana. Marinette let him keep Plagg, but changed Tikki for a zodiac, taking Mullo. She didn’t want both the black cat and the ladybug active at the same time anymore. 

Diana stayed around in the bakery while not on Justice League business or at the Louvre, and got to know Tom and Sabine quite well. Marinette and her relationship strengthened, and Marinette quite liked to tease Adrien at school by calling him “her nephew.” Nobody really knew why. 

As they grew older, Adrien and Marinette kept in touch in their civilian lives and stayed as partners in the superhero world. But, Adrien never re-entered Marinette’s love life. No, he got his kicks out of returning Marinette’s teasing here. 

Damian Wayne and Marinette had gotten to know each other in the month he and Bruce had been in Paris. Marinette had a delivery to them, and then continued having deliveries. That was on Bruce’s part and him trying to set Damian up. Well, it worked, and the two fell into an awkward “I like you” stage after the downfall of Hawkmoth. When Marinette graduated, she had gone to Gotham University so she could be closer to Damian and they really did start dating then.

Adrien got his kicks from this. Whenever Diana came for a visit, Adrien was with her and always asked how Damian was treating his aunt. There were normally angry, muttered snide remarks in Cantonese from Marinette and smug replies in Mandarin from Adrien. 

Life was as peaceful as the life of a superhero could be for our young, found family.

[unreachablevoice]

Oneshot? Daminette Oneshot!

OKay, you see, I’ve been reeaaallly wanting to write about people crying for a while now for some reason (don’t ask me why I legit don’t even know). So I thought, why not make a oneshot? So BOOM! here it is! (even though I should've been writing my other Daminette and/or Maribat fics)

Anyway, I just learned that writing about people crying SUCKS! Like, why is it so effing hard???? Why did no one warn me about this??? (I mean I should’ve seen it coming either way because EVeRYTHING ABOUT WRITING is hard). So I am very sorry in advance if this isn’t as good as it... whatever it is??? hahahaha because I gotta tell you, I just did this on a whim because WRITER’S BLOCK! THAT DUDE IS SO ANNOYING!!!

Oh and you know, I’m not sure if this is considered angst? Angst with Happy Ending?... So I just researched about it and asked ma chérie belle and she said yes? But I’m still not sure so I’m just going to tag it as one.

Anywho, umm the first part of my Daminette Age Gap AU just received 400 loves (that’s what I want to call it cuz I think it’s cute leave me be!) so let’s just say that the sole purpose of this oneshot is to satisfy my craving for crying stuff and to celebrate those 400 loves (thank god for convenient coincidences) that I received from you wonderful peeps!!!!

Enjoy~!

Warning: Swearing and cuss words are present. Please read with caution, thank you!

I’m Not Scared Of Anything, But Losing You Would Be Terrifying

Cruising down the alleyway with his Father right beside him in his Batmobile, the sirens of police cars rang in his ears.  

They had received a call from Commissioner Gordon not too long ago, saying how Scarecrow had escaped from Arkham and is causing havoc in a café somewhere. It would’ve been fine to just leave it with the GCPD and a few from their team but some reported that he was making a new concoction of his Fear Gas. Something much more intense.

Skidding to a stop, he takes off his helmet and walks to where his Father and the police were conversing.  

“Robin.” the Dark Knight nods to him as he places himself next to his looming figure.

Crossing the police tape and getting inside the café, Robin comes face to face with Scarecrow. A gun in his hand, pointing at the hostages as he laughs maniacally.  

“Scarecrow!” Batman calls from beside him, “Enough is enough! Let them go!”  

The villain throws his head back and laughs loudly, earning a snarl from both of the vigilantes.

“You see, dear Batman,” —Scarecrow raises his gun— “I’ve been wanting to try my new experiment.” he smirks at them and cocks his gun with his other hand.  

“And you’re just the right person for the job.”

Not a second after, his goons began ambushing them.  

Three goons began to circle him with their guns in hand and a demented smile on their face. If he hadn’t seen Scarecrow command them himself, he might’ve thought that the Joker was the one leading the attack.

With quick work with his Batarangs, he swiftly flings their guns out of their grasps.  

Seeing as how they’re disarmed; one goon throws a punch to his face. Robin’s hand immediately shots out and blocks his punch and twists it in a direction he was sure was not possible an arm could handle.

The goon screams in anguish, which gives Robin a momentum to punch him square in the face with his free hand and watches as the goon's nose drip with blood.  

Dropping the now passed out goon, he turns to the other two goons and kneels down and pulls out a Bo Staff.  

Letting out a battle cry, he lunges at them and whacks them to their side, which throws them to a few tables. The sound of cracks bringing satisfaction to his ears.

Finishing the goons, he turns to Scarecrow and sees him still sporting that smug smirk on his face. What’s his motive? Why is he still smiling even though they’re practically beating up his henchmen?

They briefly catch each other’s eyes and the villain’s smile grows even wider.

Robin scowls at the villain and readies himself in a battle stance.

Without even having the chance to take a step forward, Scarecrow raises his gun and shoots at his direction.  

Quickly sidestepping the bullet, he looks back at the villain, “You should really work on your aim.”

Scarecrow smirks at him mockingly, “Was I really aiming for you?”

What?

He looks behind him and sees a tank of Scarecrow’s Fear Gas punctured by his bullet.

Holy shit.

His eyes widen and he reaches to his utility belt to pull out a gas mask, but before he was able to put it on his face, a goon tackles him to the ground. Causing him to loosen his grip on the said mask.

“Fuck!” he mutters as he tries to wrestle free from the goon’s hold. “Get off me!”  

As he struggles to be free, he feels the mist cloud his vision. Blurring his surroundings and making everything indistinguishable.

“Get up!” he hears someone yell at his ears and the goon that was holding onto him disappears.  

He abruptly stands and closes his eyes shut. Clenching his jaw, he reminds himself that none of what he’ll see is real. To dismiss everything and pay it no mind because they are not real.

His breath becomes ragged and his heart thunders against his chest as he hears voices around him.  

‘None of this is real!’ he chants to himself and covers his ears.

The sounds slowly began dissipating and everything went quiet. Too quiet.  

“Damian!” an angelic voice suddenly cuts through the silence and calls out to him.

‘Habibti?’

He slowly and warily opens his eyes and is immediately met with a different environment.

Gone was the café he was previously in; he was now in a park surrounded by trees and some benches on the side. The sun was also shining brightly and the birds were chirping. Everything seemed perfect. Too perfect.

He looks down at himself and sees that he’s no longer wearing his Robin uniform but regular civilian clothing.  

‘What am I doing here?’

“Listen to me!” the sweet voice calls out to him again.

“Wha—?”  

“Look at me!” the voice shouts again and he feels his every being shake. Making him lose his balance and fall on the floor.  

“Marinette?” he calls out and looks around. Where was she?

Whipping his head around, he is immediately met with a mop of blue-black hair.

Relief floods his whole being as he stands up and goes over to her, “Hey, I’m here,” he smiles and reaches for her hand.

“No!” Marinette shouts and slaps his hand away. Only then did he notice that her comforting gaze had turned into a sharp glare. Her beautiful blue bell orbs gone as a dark sapphire blue filled with anger replaced it. Why was she looking at him like that? Had he done something wrong?

“H-Habibti—?”

“Stop calling me that!” he winces at her tone and Marinette’s scowl deepens. Her hands ball into fists that he was afraid she’d cut her skin with her nails.  

“W-What are you—?” he hastily reaches out to her once more.

“SHUT UP!” she shouts and everything shook again. Her face, still sporting that scowl, looks at him with disgust.

“I can’t believe I ever dated you,” she spat and steps back.

Damian recoils as though he’s been slapped in the face. He feels a twinge in his chest as though his heart has been pinched and punctured. No, please. She's the only thing that stayed in his life, don’t let her go now. Please.

“Marinette,” he calls as his hands reach out to her again, in to which Marinette avoided in distaste.  

Seeing how angry and disgusted she looked at him made something inside of him shatter. Was he that horrible to make her not want him touch to her? Was he that disgusting?

“Mari—”

“I can’t even stand to look at you right now.” he flinches as though he just received a punch to his gut. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her in his arms and cry and ask what he’d done wrong, but he can’t do that when she’s sneering at him with abhorrence.  

“I hate you, Damian,” she glowers in that tone that he hated so much. The one that he never wanted to be directed at him. But now it was.

He drops down to his knees and crawls to her feet, “I’m sorry,” he cries out.

Tears began to pool at the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeats in a strangled voice. But Marinette won’t even look at him anymore.  

“W-Whatever it was, I’m sorry,” he choked out as he pleaded at her feet.  

Marinette kicked at his hand away and seethed, “Don’t touch me,” she hissed as though his touch was dirty. He was dirty.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” he blanches at her statement. His hands shook as big blobs of tears drip down his face. His heart beating sporadically as his ears rang with how everything seems to sound louder.

“Plea—”

“We’re through.”  

Everything felt numb. He couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything. Just that phrase repeating itself over and over again in his head. More tears began flowing down his face and he felt like he could drown, like he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t believe that he’d one day hear those words. That those pink lips, those very same lips that he would kiss senselessly, would say that to him.

Marinette glares at him one last time and walks away, leaving him with his despair and depression eating him up.

He had always wished that this day would never come. But not all wishes come true. And now, he’s watching as the girl of his dreams, the love of his life, his girlfriend for four years leaves him. Leaves him and never comes back.

“P-Please,” he sobs as he reaches out to her disappearing form. “I promise, I’ll do better. Please, just don’t leave me.”  

He stands up and attempts to run after her. But he couldn’t. Hands were holding onto him and stopping him from running after the bluenette. Feeling like the whole world was against it. Like they wanted to see him suffer.

“No!” he shouts and thrashes around, trying to get the hands, that bound him to where he stood, off. Why were they so against it? So against him? Did the world really not want him to be happy?

“Please,” he wails and just stands there, letting his tears fall as the world takes away the only thing that made him feel free.  

He stood there and broke down as he watched his love disappear from his world; from his life. He cries out and screams shamelessly as he mourns for her dying love for him. As he hears and feels his own heart break from her rejection.

And he feels it. Feels their stares. Feels the whole world taunting him on how he just lost the only person who’d stayed by his side and accepted him. Making fun of how they knew he couldn’t do anything about it. How he was powerless.

He shuts his eyes tight and slides to the ground, wishing that this was all just a dream...

No.

This is not a dream. Because dreams are beautiful.  

This is a nightmare.

As he sits there and cries for Marinette, he feels a small prick on the back of his neck. And another. And a third. Then the slight cloudiness of his mind disappears as everything went black.  

————————

Fluttering his eyes open, Damian is met with a white ceiling and warmness on his face as the sunlight crept through the window.  

He lets out a groan and rubs the side of his head.  

‘Where am I?’

Roaming his eyes to check where he was, a flash of recognition comes across his green orbs. He was in his room. How?  

A soft click resounded from the door and captures his attention as a blue-black blur emerges, seeming to be whispering with something at the door.

‘What’s going on?’

He rubs at his eyes and groans again. Everything was bleary and his mouth felt rough and dry. What was he doing here? Back in his room? Wasn’t he at a café before?

“Dami?” he flinches at the voice and feels a warm sensation on his forehead.  

‘What is this?’

Damian reaches up to the warm... thing on his forehead and grasps it, trying to feel what it was. Was it... a hand? Why was there a hand touching his forehead? Wasn't he alone in his room?

Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks up to see a black—kind of blue—blob?... What the fuck?! Wha—What is this? What exactly is he seeing right now?

He raises his arm and tries to grab at the blueish black blob. And by grab, he meant fight. He was fighting to get the hand on his forehead off. Fighting to reach for the blue-black blob.

“Dove, calm down,” the blob speaks as it holds on to both of his hands to steady them. “It’s just me.”

Suddenly, his eyesight began clearing. The blurry things that he was seeing were no more, everything began getting clearer.  

The blue-black blob that he was trying to fight (and he was definitely not losing) was finally turning comprehensible.

His eyes widen at the thing—correction, person in front of him. His breath hitching and his heart beating against his chest as he stares at those familiar blue bell eyes.

“Habibti?”  

Marinette smiles softly at him. That same smile she always used to tell him that everything is all right. That smile that always seemed to make him feel calm, no matter the situation.  

“Yes, it’s me.”

Damian chokes out a sob and feels his tears pour down his cheeks again. He reaches out to her and buries his face on her chest, trying to relish the feeling as he was afraid that everything—that this might just be a dream.  

“Oh, dear.” he hears her mutter and feels her hand pat his head and smoothen his dark locks of hair. And it eased him a little. Made him feel that he was not hallucinating and that he was safe.  

“I heard what happened,” she says in that tone, that voice that sounds so soft and caring that it made him cry harder. “Your brothers said that you inhaled Scarecrow’s new concoction of Fear Toxin and that it was so strong, they had to triple the dosage of the antidote.”

Marinette continues to rub circles on his back and cradle him back and forth as he continues to cry. Making him feel like he was a child, safe in his beloved's arms.  

“I wish I could have been there,” she whispers and holds him tighter. Something that made him feel safe and away from the world, even if her arms were dainty and delicate. “Could have helped you.”

Damian feels his emotions and cries come back tenfold as he remembers what he saw when he was still influenced by the Fear Toxin. How hurt and devastated he was. How his whole world fell apart.  

“I-I thought—” he hiccups, “—you were going to leave me.” he sobs harder and feels the spot on her shirt where he was crying go wet.

“No.” she pulls away from him just a bit and looks at his face, “I will never leave you.” her voice so raw with emotion, so sincere that it made him cry and thank whoever was up there that they are together.

She reaches up to his face and caresses his cheek, “I love you.” she smiles and kisses his forehead. Her lips so soft against his skin that he sometimes wondered if he just so much as to touch it the wrong way, would it tear open and bleed a pretty red color?

“I love you too.” he croaks out as he feels his voice go hoarse with all the crying. God, if his brothers could see him now, they’d for sure tease him for the rest of his life.

————————

OMAKE: 

Marinette – *is lying down with Damian tucked in her arms* Wanna tell me about it?

Damian – ...It was terrifying.

Marinette – I thought you said you were fearless?

Damian – *pouting* I am! But that was seriously horrifying!

Marinette – Don’t you mean SCAREy?

Damian – UGH

Marinette – HAHAHAHA XD

Damian – You have got to stop hanging out with Grayson

————————

Edit: Okay, I forgot that I was suppose to tag people.. sorry ^^; and uh I’m still not sure on how to do this whole tagging thing so I’m sorry if I missed some people 

Tags:

@thornalchemist23

@abrx2002

@k-poplunardreams

@joejoejodee

[mx-chrx]

This is Chapter 2 (but honestly you can just start here if you want). 

Chapter 1 is here.

Summary: Jason will not let this happen again. He can't. But what if he's already too late?

__

Two weeks ago.

Up here, twelve stories into the air, the wind ripped across the rooftops mercilessly, yanking and pushing against everything in its path and willing them over the edge. Red Hood stood against it, unmoving. A few feet away, a man stared up at him, propped on his palms and drenched in sweat despite the chill in the air.

Hood squatted and pulled out a gun. “You see this? We’re gonna call this Option A. And that over there,” he said, pointing to the edge of the roof, “is gonna be Option B. Got it?”

The man didn’t respond. Hood continued anyway.

"The thing about Option B is that it’ll be quick. Gravity’ll do its thing and that’ll be the end of it. But Option A, on the other hand, well, that one’s really up to me. And I can be a little petty sometimes.”

“Y-you’re bluffing. You guys don’t kill people.”

“You guys?” Hood echoed.

“You’re part of B-Batman’s crew, right?”

Hood nearly laughed out loud. “You got it all wrong, pal. We do little team-ups now and then, but you’d be better off thinking of me more like a free agent. I have my own way of doing things.”

“No. I’ve seen what you all do. You don’t do stuff like this. I bet that’s not even a real–”

Hood fired the gun a few inches from one of the man’s splayed hands, sending up a small explosion of gravel. The man shrieked.

“Anything else?”

“Hood!” Nightwing demanded in his ear. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Working.”

“That’s not what it sounds like.”

“Then stop listening.” Hood redirected his attention to the man. “You have five seconds to tell me something interesting or the next shot’ll be a lot closer. Five.”

“I don’t know anything! I swear!”

“Four.”

“Please!” Snot and tears streamed down the man’s face, oozing onto the front of his stained wife beater. Hood’s face scrunched in disgust.

“Three.”

“Hood, stop!” Nightwing urged. He sounded like he was running. “Don’t do this!”

“Thought I told you to stop listening. Two.”

“I don’t know anything!”

The roof access door slammed open and Nightwing came sprinting out, barreling straight into him. The two of them tumbled across the gravel and Hood’s gun went flying.

“What the hell are you thinking!” Nightwing yelled, straddling Hood with his fists balled in the collar of his leather jacket.

“Get off!”

“Are you insane? How could you–” He stopped short as Hood’s fist came across his face and Hood used to momentum to break free and jump to his feet.

He looked around at the empty roof before running to the fire escape in time to watch the man drop into the alley and disappear around another corner.

Roaring a curse, Hood pulled off his helmet and threw it into the gravel as Nightwing got up slowly, a steady trickle of blood streaming from his nose and dripping off his chin.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “We’ll find him. We’ve already got eyes on all his usual haunts. Red Robin’s got his phone–” Nightwing let the rest of his sentence die as he took in Hood’s glare. They sized each other up for a while, the silence between them heavy and dark.

“That’s it?” Hood clarified. “That’s all you have to say?”

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”

“How about a damn explanation?”

“It was a miscalculation.”

“A miscalculation?” Hood laughed mirthlessly. “Really? Do you ever actually listen to the words that come out of your mouth?”

“What are you going for here exactly? A handwritten letter?”

“I want you to say it.” Hood started towards him slowly.

Nightwing held his ground, arms crossed. “Say what.”

“That real reason you came up here. It’s because you still don’t trust me. None of you do.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what the hell was that?” Hood demanded, throwing his arm wide. They were just a few feet apart now, and the wind had started to pick up again, whipping his jacket and Nightwing’s hair around as it carried their voices out over the city.

“I heard what was going on and I thought–”

“I know what you thought.”

“Can you blame me?” Finally Nightwing’s forced calm cracked; his voice rose to meet Jason’s, blood smeared across his mouth and cheek from where he’d rubbed his hand. “You said it yourself. You’re not one of us. A ‘free agent’ is what you called it, right?”

“Batman tackle you a lot while you were on your own, did he?”

“No. Then again, my ‘free agency’ didn’t rack up a body account. I was on my own, but we were still on the same side. We still had the same core beliefs. You– I don’t even think you know whose side you’re on half the time. You’re just in this for yourself.”

Hood took that square in the face. He swallowed before saying, “Just tell me this: If it really came down to it, everything on the line. Would you trust me?”

Nightwing glared at him for a moment before looking away, mouth in a hard line.

Hood scoffed and stooped to pick his helmet up off the ground. He searched for something to say, but came up empty, which was for the best, since his throat suddenly felt like a vice.

He slipped on the helmet and vaulted over the side of the roof onto the fire escape, swinging and jumping to skip levels on his way down. He lingered for a second at the ground level and glanced up at the roof, half-expecting to see Nightwing calling after him, or at least peering down.

He saw nothing.

He left.

____________

“You’re kidding, right?”

“That depends.”

“On?” There was no inflection in Dick’s voice as he blinked, eyebrow cocked, fingers resting over his laptop keyboard.

“Is it funny?” Tim prodded.

They were in the den at the manor and Tim was wearing a cheap Robin Boy Wonder costume with the tag still dangling off the mask. It was the original design complete with the elf shoes and green scaly underwear – thankfully pulled over compression shorts – and just looking at it dredged up incredibly awkward memories that Dick had spent many long years desperately trying to forget.

It was hard, though, since niche costume shops and super fans still dragged it back into the light every. Single. Year. Plus, no matter how much Dick begged, he still hadn’t been able to convince Bruce to get rid of the one he kept on display in the Cave.

It was like being caught in a never-ending loop of awkward middle school photos, except these photos included pointy shoes and shiny underwear.

“Halloween isn’t for another week,” Dick noted, ignoring the question. “And you’re not wearing that.”

“Why not? It’s funny!”

“It’s not.” It really was, but there was no way Dick was going to give Tim that satisfaction.

“I think it is,” Stephanie chimed from the couch she was stretched out on, her phone held over her face. “It’s like nostalgic and ironic at the same time. Ten outta ten costume, Tim.”

Tim beamed at her then tugged uncomfortably at the waistband of the tights. “So, did you design this or did Bruce? No judgment, but I do have some questions.”

Dick pursed his lips, trying to decide how best to launch himself from the chair and over the coffee table to get him in a headlock before the younger boy could escape. Tim was fast, but Dick’s legs were longer. He shifted his weight forward in his seat, closing his laptop and setting it aside.

As if sensing the looming threat, Tim circled behind Stephanie’s couch.

“You got a problem with the classics?” Dick asked.

“Let’s just say I’m glad mine had pants,” Tim hedged, then ducked as Dick, without warning, flung a book from the shelf at him.

“I second that.” Damian was flat on the carpet with a spread of pencils and kneaded erasers around an open sketchbook. His hands were black with charcoal and graphite, and he’d been quiet for so long Dick had forgotten he was even there. He nudged the boy’s ribs with his socked foot. Damian swatted him away.

Stephanie let her phone plop onto her stomach. “Okay, but you all have to admit that I had the nicest Robin suit by, like, a mile.”

Tim snorted, his chin propped on his arms folded along the back of the couch. She frowned up at him. “Is there a problem?”

“Only the fact that your suit was basically just a carbon copy of mine. No originality. No flavor.”

“You’re both wrong,” Damian said, brushing eraser shavings off his paper. “Clearly my suit is the superior model. The boots and gloves cover most of my legs and forearms, which provides added defenses for close range combat. And the hood decreases light interference and increases anonymity. It also looks cooler.”

“Um, hello,” Dick said. “You do realize I’m the reason you guys didn’t end up running around those freezing rooftops in tidy-whities. I was the original mastermind behind the pants look. You all should be thanking–”

“Bruce!” Stephanie shouted, sitting up. The entire room turned to where Bruce had stopped in the doorway, a protein bar halfway to his mouth and Cassandra at his side. He scanned the room with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, and Dick snickered as Tim crouched a bit lower behind the couch to hide his costume.

“Tell these jerks my Robin suit was the best one!” Stephanie demanded.

Damian threw a pillow at her head, and she deflected it towards Tim.

“Hey!” Tim complained, throwing it back down on her.

Then chaos. The room erupted in shouts and flying cushions. Bruce glanced at Cass and they shared an entire, wordless exchange before backing out and walking away.

After a few near-catastrophes involving three lamps, a vase, Dick’s laptop, and the TV, the sudden battle dissolved into breathless laughter.

“Okay, but seriously,” Dick said. “You’re not really wearing that to the party, are you?”

“Why not?” Tim asked, pulling off the mask.

“It just seems like an unnecessary risk. I mean, Robin? Really?”

“Ugh, you sound more and more like him every day.” Tim hopped over the back of the sofa, his butt landing directly on Stephanie’s stomach.

“Ow! Get off!” she shouted, shoving him so that he slid onto the floor, unbothered. He tilted his head back against the side of her leg, and as if by instinct, her fingers made their way into his hair as she returned her gaze to her phone.

“He does have a point, you know,” Steph noted. “You gotta loosen up or you’re gonna end up living alone under a mansion when you’re 40.”

Dick sighed and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He knew he was being way too uptight, and he could already hear Babs’ mocking rebuke: Will you just relax and have fun? It would by all means be hypocritical coming from one of the biggest workaholics he knew – a title that was impressive to achieve in his circle – but she’d be right anyways. She usually was.

“So, what about the rest of you?” Dick finally asked, dropping his hand and trying to inject some levity into his voice. “What are you all going as?”

Stephanie and Tim grinned at each other; even Damian’s tight lips twitched into a smirk.

“Well, the thing is we kind of have a theme,” Tim began. “I’m Robin. First gen, obviously. Steph’s–”

“Red Robin,” she finished, grinning as she ruffled Tim’s hair a little harder. He leaned out of reach, grabbing her wrist and settling her hand back on his head.

“And I will be Father,” Damian announced. Dick couldn’t help but note the way his chin tipped a bit higher as he said it.

“Cass is gonna be Hood and Jason was supposed to be Black Bat, but he’s been MIA.”

Dick’s jaw tensed. None of them had heard from Jason in nearly a week. Not since their chat on the roof. No comms, no texts, not even a patrol sighting.

Dick had considered trying to reach out, maybe swinging by some of Jason’s safehouses in the city, but he wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and he knew that’s what it would almost certainly be. Besides, he wasn’t exactly sure what he would say even if they did see each other.

It had hurt, but he had meant every word of what he’d said. Hadn’t he…?

“He wouldn’t have done it anyway,” Stephanie said, sparing Dick from the mental rabbit hole he’d been about to fall into.

“He might’ve,” Tim grumbled, though there was no real conviction there.

“Not a chance.”

“Does Bruce know about this?” Dick asked, aborting the mental rabbit hole he felt himself teetering on.

“He thought was funny,” Tim said with a victorious grin.

Dick didn’t want to believe that, but it wasn’t hard for him to imagine Bruce smirking mischievously at the irony of it all.

“Okay,” he sighed. “So, what am I wearing to this thing?”

[kelelamentia]

A Puzzling Situation

A Puzzling Situation

My take on @ozmav Puzzler ficlette

 On a roof top in Gotham:

A little known fact in the villain community was that the Riddler had a son. A son who was around the same age as the current Robin; he went by the Puzzler.  The Puzzler wore a green hoodie, black skinny jeans, purple running shoes with hints of green and a purple mask.  He also had red hair styled into a faux-hawk and special customized phone for all his traps and plans.

The Puzzler was lounging around trying to pick a new plan to cause chaos to the Bat-brats; when he saw her. The Puzzler had to do a double take to be sure what he seeing was real; a lovely vision in pinks grays and blues. She had blue hair pulled into twin tails; he couldn’t see her eyes from where he was.

“Helloooooooooo Cutie-pie!”

He swung down to the street below, landing in front of her; making her jump.  Her startled face was adorable and she had the most amazing blue bell eyes.

“Hello Cutie-pie, you must be new to Gotham; allow me to introduce myself, I am The Puzzler and you are?”

“M-My is Marinette.” She stuttered.

The Puzzler spread his arms out wide and announced.

“Well Mari-Cutie, welcome to Gotham; let me be the first Rogue you encounter.  I’ll give you 3 riddles, if you get them all correct; you’re free to go, if not…well, we’ll find out won’t we.”

“Try me.”  She made herself stand up straighter to face him, sort of; she was so small in comparison to him.

“Okay first up; You measure my life in hours and I serve you by expiring. I’m quick when I’m thin and slow when I’m fat. The wind is my enemy.”

“A candle” She answered.

“Correct! A wonderful start Mari-Cutie, now; I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?”

She though a little harder on this one.

“A Map.”

“Ding Ding Ding! 2 out of 3 Mari-Cutie can you keep it up? What word in the English language does the following: the first two letters signify a male, the first three letters signify a female, the first four letters signify a great, while the entire world signifies a great woman. What is the word?”

This riddle caused her to pause, but she did have an answer.

“Heroine”

The Puzzler jumped and yelled.

“Congratulations! You have solved all 3 riddles! Something no one outside the Bat and his irritating brats has ever done before!  What a clever girl you are Mari-Cutie, we should spend more time together; I’m sure we would fit together like 2 pieces of a puzzle.”

Marinette shuffled a bit in nervousness.

“You promised to let me go if I answered all your riddles correctly.”

Puzzler gave a deep dramatic sigh.

“True and I like to think I’m a man of my word, but before you go…”

Puzzler whipped out his phone, tugged Marinette close to him and took a selfie with her. The picture ended up being a confused and dazed Marinette being held by a grinning Puzzler.  Once done he let her go; spinning her a bit to disorient her further.

“Bye Mari-Cutie, I’ll see you soon!”

The Puzzler ran off into the shadows of an alley way, leaving a very puzzled Marinette.

“What just happened?”

 At Marinette’s hotel:

Marinette was breathless; having run all the way to the hotel.

“Tikki, what just happened!?”

Tikki flew out of her chosen’s purse.

“I don’t really know Marinette, but he really seemed to like you and that can’t be good!” Tikki was very concerned the boys attraction to Marinette.

“Yeah, you’re right; it can’t be good.  I should call Damian to let him know what happened.”

“Good idea Marinette.”  Tikki agreed.

Marinette dialed Damian’s number; he picked up on the second ring.

“Hello Angel, did you make it back to your hotel alright?”

“Hi Damian, I’m fine, but something happened on the way back that disturbed me.”

“Oh? What happened Beloved?” Damian’s voice sounded tense.

“Some guy calling himself the Puzzler stopped me and made me answer his riddles.”

“WHAT!  Are you alright!”

“I told you I’m fine Damian, I answered all his riddles correctly and he let me go without issue…mostly.”

“Mostly?!”

“Grabbed me and took a selfie with me, he also wouldn’t stop calling me ‘Mari-Cutie’.”

There was a sound of glass breaking and distant yelling on Damian’s end of the phone.

“Damian what was that?!  Are you hurt?!”

“I’m fine Angel, someone just dropped a glass; no need for concern.  Did he do anything else?”

“He said he would ‘see me soon’ I’m a little worried about that.”

Marinette could here Damian taking some deep breaths; she was grateful Hawkmoth couldn’t get anyone in Gotham, and other voices asking Damian what was wrong.

“Damian?”

“I’m sorry about that Angel, but I needed to calm down so I wouldn’t say anything rude in front of you.”

“Its fine Damian, you don’t need to censor yourself like that.”

“You may not think so, but I feel it’s for the best right now.  As for him coming to ‘see you soon’ you best stay inside, you don’t want to attract his attention any more than you already have. ”

“No problem, I was planning to stay inside to work on a project anyway.”

“Good, stay safe Angel.”

“You too Damian.”

The phone ended and Marinette turned to Tikki.

“That went better than expected.”

 At Wayne Manor:

Damian’s family watch as he hung up the phone, the remanence of a glass in his other hand; having shattered when gripped it too hard, when he hear what the Puzzler kept calling his Angel.

“Damian?”  Bruce broached with cation.

“I’m fine Father, but I do believe I need to remove the Riddler’s off-spring from existence.”  Damian’s voice was strained and cold.

“Why don’t you tell what happened first?”  Bruce tried to persuade.

Damian told his family what Marinette had said to him.

“Welp, Gotham’s about to be short 1 green and purple moron, let me get my guns.”  Jason said clapping his hands together.

“Not if I get to him first Todd.” Damian snarled at his brother.

“There will be no killing.” Bruce stated firmly. “But, if Robin were to check on civilian to double check somethings that they heard, that would be fine.”

Damian nodded his head and went to change.

“Can I go after the brat?”

“No Jason.”

 At Marinette’s Hotel:

Marinette’s current project she was working on was sweaters for her boyfriend and his family; using the best wool she could find, no way she was going to let them get sick because some fake ‘high quality’ designer sweater failed to do what it was meant to do. She had just finished Alfred’s sweater when she decided to take a break.

“Tikki, I’m going to step out on to the balcony for some air.”

“Okay Marinette.”

Marinette set down her needles and walked onto the balcony; it was dusk, so it wasn’t too dark yet and she had a good view of the sunset from her hotel.  She placed her arms across the railing and sighed.

“Now what’s got you down Mari-Cutie?”  A voice from behind said.

Marinette jumped turned.

“Puzzler!”

He had a toothy grin on his face as he ran his hand though his hair.

“You remember me!  I told you I would see you soon.”  He said as walked closer, making Marinette grab onto the railing behind her.

“You did, yes I remember, but I didn’t think you meant the same day!”  Marinette rushed out.

“Well I was going to wait Mari-Cutie, but how can I not visit you when I know where you are?”

Puzzler reached out to touch Marinette’s face when something flew between them; closer to the Puzzler than Marinette.

“Don’t you know to keep your hands to yourself Puzzler.”

It was Robin; holding another birderang at the ready, perch on the rail.  

“And don’t you know it’s impolite to interrupt other people’s conversations you dumb bird?” Puzzler snipped back.

“Leave Puzzler you are not wanted here.”  Robin growled.

“Fine.”  Puzzler huffed “But, I’m not leaving with giving and taking a gift.”

Puzzler snagged Marinette’s arm and pulled her close; placing a kiss on her cheek and taking a ribbon from her hair.

“HEY!”

Marinette was not happy with the kiss and tried to punch him, but a small space to work on and being thrown off balance by the Puzzlers pulling, it was easy for him to dodge and grab her fist. With his hand around her wrist, Puzzler brought Marinette closer; almost kissing her lips, when she was pulled away.

“I told you not to touch her!” Robin snarled, having placed Marinette safely behind him.

“You clearly know nothing about romance Bird Brain; it’s only proper that man kisses his lady goodbye. I’m sorry Mari-Cutie, but looks like we’ll have to cut our meeting short, I’ll be in touch! ”

Puzzler vaulted over the railing; giving a 2 finger sault, leaving a raging Robin and a miffed Marinette.

“Can’t believe he kissed me like THAT!  Almost on the lips once too!  The nerve of him, he’s lucky I was off balance and he caught my fist or I would have knocked him out!  And he stole 1 of my hair ribbons!”  Marinette ranted.

Robin was taking some deep breathes as Marinette continued.

“He better not try that again! Or else my punch will land!”

Robin managed to get a hold of himself.

“Miss that was a very close call, I’m going to ask you to stay inside until the Puzzler is caught.”

“That was my plan Robin, but I didn’t think my balcony count as going outside.  How did you even know to check on me?”  Marinette asked.

“We got a tip from an anonymous source about a Puzzler siting and Batman asked me to verify; it seems to be worse than we thought.”  Robin explained quickly, herding her back inside. “Now lock the door and close the blinds; it may not be much, but it should hopefully dissuade him.”

“I will, thank you Robin, good night.”

“Good night Ma-Miss.” With that Robin swung off.

Marinette flopped on to her bed; after following Robin’s advice, and groaned.

“Tikki, how did it come to this?”

Tikki flew over to her Ladybug and said.

“I don’t know, but the good news is that Robin and his family are already on it.”

 On a roof top elsewhere:

“Father the situation as evolved shall we say.”  Robin’s voice was as cold as ice and just as deadly.

 The next day:

Marinette was folding up the finished sweaters and was about to go make cookies; when her phone rang.  Normally she would check to see who was calling her, but she was in Gotham; only a small group of people would call now.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mari-Cutie, did you rest well?”

“Puzzler? Y-You’re calling me?!”

“Of course my Cutie-pie, I need to know that the Bat-Brat didn’t hurt you.”

Marinette knew better than to try and anger him.

“Robin didn’t hurt me Puzzler.”

“He seemed far too invested in your safety; he must be attracted to you Mari-Cutie to get that mad.”

“This is the only the second time I’ve meet Robin; Puzzler.”

Marinette winced; knowing right away she shouldn’t have said that.

“WHAT!  This is the second time you’ve met!  That is not acceptable!  I want you to stay away from him.”

“I didn’t really get a choice either time Puzzler…”

“I suppose not, but still do NOT going looking them Mari-Cutie or else bad thing could happen to people.”

“Is there any other reason you call, other to check on me?”

“There sure is Mari-Cutie; I’m going to send you on a treasure hunt!”

Marinette blinked at her phone.

“Really?”

“Yup!  At the end there’s a prize for you.”

“What if I don’t want to play Puzzler, I might have other things to do?”

“That’s fine Mari-Cutie; the children’s hospital does need that wing anyway.”

Marinette felt her heart stop.

“What…”

“That right Mari-Cutie, you don’t play; people go boom!”

“Alright I’ll play, how do we start?”

“What a sweet girl my Mari-Cutie is; we’ll start easy, what building has the most stories? Oh and let’s keep this between us shall we?”

The line went dead; Marinette and Tikki looked at eachother.

“This isn’t good Tikki.”

“No it isn’t.”

“But I can’t let him blow up a building!  I don’t know if I can do this!”

Tikki grabbed hold of Marinette’s nose, making her pay attention.

“Marinette you are Ladybug, with or without the mask; now don’t let him win!”

“Right! And the answer is a Library”

And Marinette ran out the door; knowing she would be busy all day.  She wanted to text Damian, but knew he would freak out.

 Outside the Library:

Marinette was out of breath when she reached there when she felt her phone ding with a text.

*Hi Mari-Cutie, you did it!  I knew you would, I’m so happy!  Now here’s the next riddle; what starts with a ‘P’, ends with an ‘E’ and has thousands of letters?”

“When I find this guy, he’s getting punched.”  Marinette grumbled under her breath. “So my next stop is the post office.”

Marinette started to run again only to bump into someone.

“I’m so sorry; I’m in a rush and…” Marinette started.

“Angel-fluff?”

“Jason?”  Marinette startled.

“What’s got you in a rush?” Jason was worried, because he knew Marinette should be staying inside.

“I’m currently on a treasure hunt with a dead line.”  Marinette said, telling truth but leaving the more dangerous details.

“Really now?  Would you like some help?”  Jason asked, hoping he could keep her safe.

“No!  You can’t help, I was told that would be cheating and that would be bad.  I’m sorry Jason, but I have to go, I’m on a time line remember?!”   Marinette was and out of site before Jason could say anything else.  

Jason frowned and pulled out his phone.

“Hey Demon Spawn?  It got worse.”

 Outside the post office:

Marinette skid to a stop in front of the building; looking around, when her phone went off with another text.

*Mari-Cutie you’re doing so well!  But I don’t like the guy that tried to talk to you, good job on getting away so fast J <3 Now for your next riddle; A sign for this special building, might only show its first letter, it is where you will get taken, when injured so you get better.*

“Did he have to make it rhyme? But the only place it could be is a Hospital!”

“You can do it Marinette!”  Tikki whispered from her place in Marinette’s purse.

“Right! Off we go again!”

Again Marinette took off running.

 In front of the Hospital:

“This getting real draining, I hope he get me to where he wants me to be soon.”

Her phone went off; for she hoped was the last time.

*Oh my sweet Mari-Cutie, you never fail to astound me, this last riddle will bring you to your prize.  I have something different to show every week, but I'm still the same place; what am I?*

“How vague…But maybe a theatre?  Yes a theatre!”

Marinette started towards the old theatre.

“He better be there or I’m going to be so mad.”

 At the Batcave:

After Jason’s call everyone; minus Alfred and Babs who were on the bat-computer, had to sit on Damian to keep him from going on a murder spree.

“GET OFF ME! MY BELOVED NEEDS ME!  THAT WASTE OF SPACE KEEPS FLIRTING WITH HER!  IT WAS BAD ENOUGH WAS THAT STUPID CAT BUT HIM?!  NO!  NOW GET OFF!!!!”  Damian yelled, thrashing under the weight of Dick, Bruce and Tim.

“No Damian, you can’t go and kill the Puzzler.”  Bruce stated, pressing down on Damian’s shoulders.

“YES I CAN! YOU JUST HAVE TO GET OFF ME!”

“He means killing is bad and you know it little D.” Dick reminded, sitting on Damian’s legs.

“YOU CANNOT DISTRACT ME FROM MY MISSION!  NOW LET GO!”

“Do you even know where she is Demon Spawn?  How do you plan to help her if you can’t find her?”  Tim asked sitting Damian’s lower back and holding his arms.

There’s more snarling and raging from Damian as a response to Tim’s question.

“If Master Damian would calm down he would know that Ms. Barbara as located Ms. Marinette at the old play house.”

“Yeah, you moron’s get it together.” Babs teased.

Jason came down the stairs and Damian saw him snarled.

“WHY ARE YOU NOT FOLLOWING HER!”

“Chill brat, the Puzzler probably has her being watched; if he saw me a second time we don’t know what would happen.  Beside Alfred and Babs just where she is; and he is most likely, so all we have to do is go get them.”

“You’re being rather calm Jason; you’re not going to kill him?”  Dick asked, a little suspicious.

Jason walked over to his weapon cabinet and pulled out his favourite gun.

“H*ll yeah I am, but I’m not going let Cake-pop see.  That would traumatize her and we don’t want to do that now do we Demon Spawn?”

“That is a very valid point Todd and I’ve also realized if I went near my Beloved as Robin again; it would further make him angry and I don’t want that near my Angel.  Now may I please be let up?”

Damian was slowly released, but Bruce kept a firm hand of his shoulder.

“Okay, Myself, Dick, Tim and Jason will go; Jason no killing, Damian STAY PUT!”  Bruce ordered.

Bruce, Dick, Tim and Jason went to get ready; leaving Alfred, Babs and Damian together.  Seeing them out of sight Damian made his way up stairs.

“Master Damian, where are you going?” Alfred asked.

“I may not be able to rescue my Angel as Robin, but I can comfort her as Damian; I’ll be waiting for your signal.”  With that Damian was gone.

“There no way to stop him is there Alfred.”

“If anything Ms. Barbara, we should be happy he took this route.”

 At the play house theatre:

“Finally, this has been a lot of running in one day.”  Marinette sighed, walking to the entrance.

Upon entry Marinette saw in center stage; lit up by a spot light, was a table for 2.  The table was draped with a white table cloth and it had single rose in a glass vase in the center.  She approached the table and called out.

“Puzzler?”

“Mari-Cutie,” Puzzler came out of the shadows. “Please sit, as your host and date I have already prepared everything.”

“You had me running around Gotham for a date?”

“I wanted to set mood Mari-Cutie, it also gave me some time to set this up and get you a gift, now sit.”

Marinette sat down; Puzzler pulled out the chair for her.

“Puzzler, I don’t think this is a good idea; I’m likely to be a good match for you and I already have a boyfriend.”  Marinette tried one last time to reason with him.

Puzzler ran his finger down Marinette’s jaw, before sitting down on the other side.

“Nonsense my Mari-Cutie; you’ve proven to be smarter than any of the Bat-brats by answering all of my puzzles on the first try with no hesitation.  You did draw attention to yourself as well; except for that hulking brute, but made sure to discourage him right away, how can you not be my perfect match?  My perfect puzzle piece?  As for your boyfriend, he is of little issue and easily disposed of.”

Marinette knew there would be no more trying reason with him, he threating children and her Damian; he’s going down. Marinette started small.

“How did you track me?  Was it through my phone, because that would be the only piece of tech I have on me.”

“That’s right!  Most people just forget that phones can be tracked.” Puzzler cheered.

“Is that how you do most of your work, with your phone?  I saw it briefly when you took that picture.”

Puzzler gave a love struck sigh.

“Oh my Mari-Cutie, you’ve only known me a day and yet you know me.  My phone is my life, it’s specialized you see and I can get you one too so we can talk all the time.”

Ok he was like Lady WIFI, easy enough to deal with; just get the phone and he’s done.

“Puzzler, I live in Paris; I’m just visiting Gotham.”  Normally a bad idea to tell the bad guy where you lived, but the Puzzler probably looked up her address with phone number already.

“I know,” Puzzler confirmed pulling out his phone “On our next date I’ll highjack the Eiffel tower and we can picnic at the top.  The perfect place in the city of lights and love.”

Marinette hid a grimace; this like the worse of Chat and Evillustrator combined, she needed to get that phone.   “You know the selfie you took of us?  I never got a copy and we should take another of our date together.” It hurt Marinette to say the word date when it didn’t mean Damian. “You’re right Mari-Cutie!  Just let me get a little closer.”   The Puzzler got up and walked around the table, he stood behind Marinette’ chair and leaned over with arm stretched out; phone in hand.   “Smile Mari-Cutie!”

 Marinette smiled and then elbowed him in the throat, causing him to drop his phone and stagger away, she then turn and punched him the face; rendering him unconscious.  Marinette kicked the phone further away from them and proceeded to tie up Puzzler with the table cloth.  Just as she was finishing up the last knot, the heroes of Gotham came raining down from the ceiling.

“Puzzler let the girl…go?” Nightwing started, but trailed off seeing that Marinette had already handled it.

“I’m sorry, I know I should have waited for one of you to arrive, but he was getting far too creepy.” Marinette apologized.

“What happened?”  Batman asked.

Marinette then explained very that happened, the police showing up to take the tied up Puzzler away and send more to the children’s hospital.

“And that’s what happened.” Marinette finished.

“You are one h*ll of a tough cookie kid, smart too if you did everything that fast.”  Red Hood commented.

“It wasn’t that great…” Marinette tried, only to be interrupted.

“Angel!”

“Damian!”  Marinette ran over to her boyfriend and hugged him.

“Angel I’m happy to see that you are unhurt, but why didn’t you stay inside?!”

“I couldn’t Dami; he was going to blow up the children’s hospital if I didn’t.”

“I understand my Beloved.”

Batman then sent the 2 on their way, the police escorting them back to Marinette’s hotel; so she could grab her things and take them to Wayne manor, where she would be safer in Damian’s opinion.

Sometime later in a prison cell:

A figure laid on his bed; holding a ribbon in his hand.

“Until we meet again my Mari-Cutie.”

 End.

And that was A Puzzling Situation.

 Also

 Extra:

Mari – I just realized I never got my hair ribbon back.

Dami – One moment Beloved.

Leaves and comes back with a massive box.

Dami – For you my Angel.

Mari – Oh Dami…

Mari opens the box to reveal hundreds of hair ribbon of different sizes and colours.

Mari – I only needed one Dami…

Dami – But you deserve more Angel

Mari - *sigh*

 Extra 2:

Mari – How did the Bat-Fam even know to look for me in the first place?

Everyone freezes.

Mari – I was alone on the street when I first met him and I only told Damian about what happened and Jason was the only one who knew I was out that day because I ran into him.

Mari looks over at the very stiff Wayne family and squints her eyes for a moment and blinks

Mari – *face in her hands* Really?

Jason – Surprise?