#suddenly my birthday comes around again and now the government wants me to vote and join the military (srsly i have got so much mail)

[yikes-ajax]

P...... Party rrocker in the house tonihhgt

[flying-nightwing]

Damn Him

Hi, this is average af but I needed to post something. You’ll probably be disappointed lmao. Anyway, enjoy some Dick Grayson content!

More on my masterlist, pinned as a top post!

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word count: 4798

Warnings: None

Summary: Dick Grayson never seems to say the right thing around you, and it’s not quite for the reason you initially thought

You looked up from your book when your cellphone vibrated on your desk beside you. You were in the midst of studying for your last exam of the semester, so you had your phone on a strict do not disturb schedule, which meant it remained on 24/7. Your notifications were blocked for any social media, text or calls you might receive, well, except for your one emergency contact: Bruce Wayne. He knew he was supposed to contact you only if he had no other choice but ask for your help, and never had he even used that card ever since you knew him. Reluctantly, you put down you book and marker to switch them for your phone. Turning on the screen, you ignored the various hidden notifications, focusing only on the single line that stared back at you.

Call me when you can - B.

Sighing, you unlocked your phone and pressed the contact name, then the phone icon next to it. It rang twice before Bruce picked up.

"(Y/N), how are you?"

"A bit stressed out, but it could be worse" You replied truthfully. "What's up?"

"I hope you know I wouldn't do this if I had any other solution" He began. "But I need your help on a recon mission, almost all my effective got busted last night"

"Oh my, are they okay?" You frowned with concern, even if he couldn't see you.

"Yes, don't worry" He said, "I'll explain in person, that is if you agree to come. I'd understand if you refused, though"

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes for a second. You owed a lot to Bruce, and since it was a simple recon stakeout, you could take one or two nights off to help him out. You were already ahead of schedule in your studying and confident in your knowledge of the material.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be there" You finally answered. "What time do you want me over?"

"As soon as you can"

"Aight, see ya"

You hung up the phone and put it back on your desk, observing it for a second. It had been gifted to you by Bruce after you began going on missions more regularly with the batlings, he said that way he knew for sure all communications would be secure and sheltered from hacking or government surveillance. You had to admit, having an encrypted phone was pretty neat, as it ran entirely on Wayne Enterprises servers and networks. The simple thought of not having to suffer through youtube ads was satisfactory enough on its own to justify the need for it, even if you didn't join missions as much as you used to.

You finally stood up and went to change from your yoga pants and loose tank top to black jeans and a sweater, then jumped in your car and drove to the manor. You punched in your code at the gate and took the right to the garages, where you entered a second code to open the doors. Your car was several notches under those parked there, but you had to have something less flashy as not to attract too much attention. Still, it was more than a majority of college students even had. You had to thank Bruce for that too. He wasn't your adopted father per say, since he found you a few days before your eighteenth birthday, but he still acted like a guardian and mentor for you.

You jogged down to the batcave, where you instantly spotted a chatty blonde sprawled in a seat, making wild gesture. She sprung up straight at the sound of you coming in and her face split in a wide grin. She jumped on her feet and skipped toward you.

"Hey giiiiirl" She drawled out excitedly. "Long time no see!"

"Hey Steph" You chuckled, going for the hug. "Sorry I didn't call, I have no excuses"

"Don't worry about it" She waved off with an airy laugh. She knew how busy school kept you, and how you kind of wanted to separate yourself fromthe vigilante life. "I'm just glad you're here"

"So am I" Bruce called from the computers. He gave you a subtle smile, and you nodded back to him. "It seems like we're in a bit of an impasse here"

You didn't miss the quick glare he sent to Tim and Steph, who sheepishly avoided looking back at him. It didn't seem too serious though, or the air would have drastically changed.

"Before he says anything, know it wasn't our fault" Steph hurried to say.

"We were totally ambushed by Vicky Vale" Tim nodded along."No idea what she did there, but she was, and she saw right through our disguises.We had to bolt before she exposed us"

You frowned in confusion. "Okay can someone tell me what is going on here?"

"Tim and Steph were supposed to go undercover and cozy up with the high leaders of what I have suspicions on good authority are transiting premium grade opium into the US and Europe, and are close partners to Count Vertigo" Bruce began, already exhausted. "But as they said, Vicky Vale was somehow invited to the banquet and singled them out immediately before they could get even near the big guys"

"My magnificent blond mane attracts way too much attention, I'm afraid" Steph sighed sadly, making you chuckle. "It's a curse, babes. I tell ya"

"Keep telling yourself that, Stephi" A new voice came from the top of the stairs. You both wanted suddenly to go back to your books as a big part of why you barely tag along on missions anymore skipped down the stairs. Damn Dick Grayson, damn him. "We all know covert missions are not your strong point"

"I'm gonna kill you in your sleep, Grayson" She smiled sweetly at him.

"No, because you suck at being subtle" He returned the grin, just as sweetly if not more. He ruffled her hair as he passed by. "What's up Timbo"

He hummed something unintelligible, flipping his brother off. Dick laughed, then almost added something when he finally noticed you. His laughter died down and his eyes widened, and suddenly he looked uncomfortable. "Oh, you're here"

"So it seems" You replied as flatly as he spoke. It wasn't new, you had never known how to act around each other. Did you hate him? Of course not, you had absolutely no reason to. Did you consider him your friend? Hard to say. All you knew was that any and every encounter you had with Dick Grayson was awkward. You got along with Tim just fine, and even Jason when he was still around. You loved Cass and Duke, and you even managed to get on Dami's good side, or most of the time anyway. But Dick remained a mystery to you, one that had eluded you for years now. You didn't understand a single thing about that boy, and you doubted you ever would. You've had conversations before, loads of them, and you had no doubt he would make an amazing friend, but you couldn't seem to get past the stage of acquaintances.

Which was frankly disappointing, because you had been instantly attracted by his charms and easygoing nature when you first met. You had been drawn to him, and you couldn't try and pretend you hadn't pinned after him for the longest time. But you hit a wall when his behaviour began changing wildly around you, right around the time you slipped flirts every now and then to let him know that you were into him. Right now, you were just really over his poor attempts at pretending he never noticed it happen.

"So" Bruce spoke up, breaking the tension that had suddenly arisen in the cave. "Tomorrow night we'll have a new opening to try and get to them, hopefully without interruption this time. I've taken a look at the list, and no reporter was on it. We should be good"

"But Tim and Steph already got busted" You pointed out. "They'll know something is up if they show up again"

"That's why they will be seen at the Gotham Charity Auction at the museum" He explained, meeting your eyes. "That's why I called you up. You'll be going undercover with Dick as husband and wife"

"What?" Dick coughed almost immediately. "We're not–" He laughed nervously. "Us? As a married couple? This is ridiculous"

Your head turned sharply toward him, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Wow, thanks a lot for the vote of confidence" You snapped. "I didn't know being my fake husband was such a terrible perspective"

"No– Wait– That's not–" He stuttered, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean it that way"

"Sure" You rolled your eyes, before turning to Bruce again. He had an unreadable expression on his face, more unreadable than usually anyway. Tim and Steph stood there in stunned silence, not daring to speak up. "What's the briefing?"

Bruce glanced in between you and Dick, before looking back at you again. "Félix Lachance and Stella Gustavsson, they're the one you need to befriend. Since you're not known to the public, it'll be easier for Dick to pass under the radar and not cause an incident like last time"

"We get it, B" Tim muttered under his breath as Bruce passed you the files with the pictures.

"I need you to retrieve any information you can" He continued, ignoring Tim's comment. "Names of business partners, location of transactions, dates, anything, you know the gig. Your occupation and alias if you want one will be at your discretion, I trust you can deal with that. As always you need to be extremely careful as not to alert them, because this is our last chance to get the critical Intel we need to take this down. So I'll need you at your A game, both of you"

This was a warning and you knew it. He let you know more or less subtly to put aside whatever was happening between you and behave like adults. You straightened your back and took a deep breath, getting your head in the right mindset.

"Alright, I'll be ready for tomorrow night" You nodded as you gathered the files. "Can I stay over tonight? There is no point in trying to study now"

"You don't need to ask, (Y/N), you're always welcome here" Bruce said, a hint of fondness in his voice. He always liked having you around, he said your presence tamed the boys. You nodded and made your way upstairs, finding the room you claimed as your own for about a year, and the same you always came back to when you stayed the night.

You went to the drawers, fishing out old training clothes you had left behind. You weren't sure all those were yours, they were probably mixed with pieces you stole from Steph and Cass. In return, they probably did also steal from your drawer occasionally, balancing it all out. You were about to change into something comfy for bed when a soft knock at your door caught your attention. You walked to it and tentatively opening the door, your expression flattening when you saw how it was.

"Yes?"

"Hey um" Dick scratched the back of his neck. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it came out that way. I just meant that it would be, you know, weird"

You stared at him blankly. "You're not helping your case here, Dick"

"Shit, that's not what I mean either!" He hurried to say, realizing his mistake. But you were already closing the door. "Please (Y/N)–"

"Get some rest Dick" You said as you pushed the door closed. You sighed and shook your head before adding in a whisper, "God knows we'll need it"

------

You had done covert missions before, but this was the first time you were operating in such conditions. You finished retouching your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror, wondering whether or not it was more expensive than your total life income. The floor length champagne coloured dress was stunning, tailored to your form and just sparkly enough to let you shine through the design. You suspected the shoes were made especially to fit with the dress, as they resembled its lace and belt colour. You were sporting on top of that a heavy diamond necklace with matching earrings, proving the general high cost of the outfit. Your comm was carefully tucked in your ear, functional and well hidden.

"Oh my my" Steph whistled lowly. "If I wasn't dating Timbers I would date you"

You laughed. "This is the outfit talking. You haven't seen me tired and puffy in sweatpants just yet"

"Grump, just take the damn compliment" She playfully poked your exposed shoulder.

"Alright alright, thanks" You rolled your eyes. "Since it's gonna be the only one coming from this household anyway"

Steph wiggled her eyebrows. "Wouldn't be so sure about that" She said in a sing-song voice. "Your fake boyfriend may have some thoughts too"

"Ha" You snorted, walking out of your room with her following at your side. "It's good, that you're wishful thinking. The boy can't seem to talk to me without insulting me lately"

"Trust me, he won't be able to resist to this bombshell" She gestured at your form. "Dick's a people pleaser, and looking like a whole five course meal like that, you sure are easy to please if you want my opinion"

You shook your head, a small grin on your face. Steph had always been your favourite for a reason. She knew how you felt about Dick, but she never meddled. Well, not more than she typically would anyway, and not enough to cross your boundaries. And even then, she had no explanation either for his behaviour. You finally reached the foyer, where Bruce was dressed casually, sleeves rolled up and without a tie, talking to an all dressed up Dick, his hair now dark red and with almost black contact lenses. Your heels clicking on the stairs was what snapped their attention to you; Bruce nodding at his choice of dress for you, and Dick, his mouth slightly agape. You felt Steph gently but excitedly elbowing your ribs.

"Ah, (Y/N), there you are" Bruce said. "I'm glad to see the dress fits well"

"Yeah" Dick tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "You look okay"

You blinked in disbelief as you heard Steph's facepalm behind you. You closed your eyes and exhaled through your nose, while Bruce shook his head slightly at his son.

"Yikes" Tim made his presence known. You shared this one word mood immensely right about now. "Way to go D"

Dick cleared his throat, trying to push back the embarrassment blush creeping up his cheeks. "Uh, shall we go?"

"That would be preferable, yes" Bruce replied, making Steph choke and cover he laughter with a cough. The way he said it was clearly meant to be a jab to his son's tactless attitude. "Be careful"

"Of course" You smiled tightly and all but dragged Dick outside. You'd take one of Bruce's luxury car to get there, and it was already waiting in the driveway. Dick pressed the door button and slowly, they lifted up to let you in. You slid in the passenger seat without waiting for Dick's help and you kept your eyes on the windshield in from of you as he began to drive. The ride was silent until he decided to speak again, tentatively.

"It's nice to see you all dressed up, for once" He said, still clearly not thinking of his choice of words more carefully. "It's different. A good different!"

For once? Was he serious?

You audibly sighed. "I'm begging you to just stop talking"

"What?" He objected, confused. "What did I say wrong this time– Oh"

"Yeah" You replied, your tone clipped and dry.

"I'm an idiot" He mumbled under his breath. That you could agree on, but you didn't voice it out loud.

He couldn't pull into the driveway fast enough. You slipped on your fake engagement ring as Dick stopped in front of the awaiting valet, doing himself the same thing. You both had a recording device slipped in your clothes, and the ring allowed you to turn it on and off at will, as well as the comm in your ear. You turned both off for the awaiting scan at the entrance, as not to emit detectable frequencies.

"Ready?" He asked, and you gave him a firm nod. He got out first and rounded the car, opening your door for you as he would be expected to by this particular crowd. You took his offered hand to climb out and linked your arm to his as he gave the keys to the valet in exchange for a ticket. He left a tip before you walked inside, registering to the guest list. You passed the security checkpoint without a hassle and found yourself in the hall where the auction was held. You turned on your comm and recording device again.

"Recon first, then regroup?" You suggested in a mutter as you were both visually scanning the room.

"Yep" He replied shortly. "B, copy?"

"Crystal clear" 

"Good. Let's go"

While Dick headed to the bar, you opted for the art collection on display, pretending to scout for potential pieces to bid on. But your eyes weren't on the expensive paintings and statues, but moved around the room to spot some VIP lounge or area where the big shots might hang out at. There was a room where attendees came and went, but you shrugged it off as there wasn't enough security for the profile you were searching for. You paused your recon for small talk here and there, and you were in the middle of a casual chat about painted landscapes with an older gentleman when Dick rejoined your side, handing you a drink.

"There you are honey" He smiled sweetly, his unusually dark brown eyes reflecting the light from the chandelier.

"Joey, my love, allow me to introduce you to Sir Fernand Bretworth of Essex" His alias flew out of your mouth naturally, then you took a small sip of your drink. Non alcoholic, nice thinking. "We were discussing impressionism and its influence on modern art"

You wanted to smirk at the clueless look Dick gave you. He was a prodigy in a lot of things, but art wasn't one. It was more Damian's thing, or Tim's if he tried hard enough, but definitely not Dick's. Take that now. 

"Ah, yes..." He replied slowly. "Fascinating indeed"

"Alright" You let out a small, cover up laugh as your hand rested on his bicep. "My husband has little interest in art, my apologies"

"No offence taken" He chuckled. "I'll leave you two, my wife must be looking for me. An old fool like me gets easily distracted!"

You laughed along with him until he was out of earshot. Then you dropped your hand and turned to him. "Noticed anything?"

"Yeah, there is a guarded room with special access" He said as you walked deeper into the crowd not to look suspicious. "Only owned of a special pass can go in, and the guards are very thorough"

"Great" You breathed. "Now let's hope out lovebirds will come out to mingle"

"As it turns out..." He trailed off, and instinctively, you began turning your head toward where his gaze lead. He immediately redirected your head back to him with a firm, but gentle touch on your cheek. His hand remained there for about three seconds longer than necessary, until he realized what he did and retracted his arm. You could have almost enjoyed it if he didn't look like he was touched by literal fire. "Don't look"

"Sorry" You mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"... They got out, they're talking to people" He informed you, ignoring what just went down. "You go for Stella, I'll take Felix. Remember, friendly but not suspicious. Sweet talk your way into spilling the beans"

"I know" You bit back, your voice low. "Not my first mission, remember? I know what to do"

"I was just reminding you"

"Yeah, I got that" You scoffed. "If you don't trust me, just say so, it'll save you trouble of babying me"

"Come on, that's not–"

He began arguing, but you walked away before you could slip up and say his real name. It would give him one more reason to come down on you like you were a beginner in need of guidance. You were rusty, not stupid. You didn't need him insulting your undercover talents as well. You stopped in front of a beautiful emerald necklace that had a start bid of ten millions dollars and took a long sip of your drink, now kind of bummed it was non alcoholic. But that very detail was probably why you felt a presence approaching you from behind, giving you a few seconds to compose yourself and sweep your frustration under the rug.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You turned around, surprised. It looked like the voice made you jump, when it was in fact the nature of the question that threw you off, as well as the person who had spoken. Before you could ask, the Stella Gustavsson smiled warmly and nodded to where Dick had been seconds earlier.

"I saw what happened" She began, and your heart skipped a beat, hoping she hadn't overheard. "Those frustrated hands gesture are all too familiar. What did he do?"

You relaxed slightly, for now. "We've been having trouble lately, well, more than usually" You explained with a little complicit cock of your head. She seemed to get it. You, on the other hand, knew Dick was hearing everything on his comm, so you decided to go for it. "He's acting... Weird. Can't seem to talk to me without irritating me, whether on purpose or not. I'm sorry, I'm venting to a stranger, I can't imagine how it must look look like.

"Don't worry about it dear, I asked" She winked, extending her hand. "I'm Stella"

"Aleka" You shook her hand.

"Your dress is stunning, by the way!" She exclaimed. "Which designer?”

You froze for a second before shrugging. "No idea, my designer got it for me" You brushed off. "As long as it looks good, I don't care where it comes from"

"Amen" She said, taking a sip of her champagne. "Although, I need to know the name of your designer. They have amazing taste, and I'm looking for a new one for myself"

Oh shit.

"It's B" You replied instantly.

"Bee?"

"Yeah" You nodded, and she looked at you incredulously. "I mean, that's what we all call him. I'm sure he has a name, but I pay him to dress me, not to know his personal life"

"Harsh, (Y/N)" Bruce said in your ear, and you remembered he had been listening to everything. "But nice save"

She laughed, unaware of the comments from Batman himself. "That is very true. How have I not met you before? I feel we have a lot in common"

"I sincerely have no idea" You replied, adding a little gasp of disbelief.

"You're different from this crowd, I can feel it" She kept going on as you started walking side by side in the exposition room. "Everyone here only cares about petty, trivial things. You have a head on your shoulders, you're smart. Too bad your man can't seem to see what's in front of him"

You sighed in agreement to hide the fist pump of victory that threatened to come up. Just like that, you had won Stella over. "I don't know what to do about it. I've tried to talk to him, but it just makes it worse"

"But have you tried to make him jealous?" She suggested with a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "There are plenty of young men around, or older bachelors if you're into that. Flirt with them, make sure he sees you, he'll come running, take my word"

"It won't work, he's not–" Even my boyfriend, you were about to say, but you saved your fall just on time. Still, you could practically see Dick's glare in the back of your head at the almost slip up. "Jealous. He's not a jealous man, he's very confident and secure"

"What a shame" She drawled out, going for her champagne again. "Here's what you can do then. Go to him, take him by the neck and french kiss him like there is no tomorrow”

You choked on your saliva as she watched you with a mischievous grin. "Excuse me?"

"It's guaranteed to work, darling" She lifted her shoulder in an elegant shrug. "Then you hold him off. You'll thank me later tonight when you're back at home, just wait and see"

You were about to argue some more, but her insisting stare told you she wasn't just going to let it go. So you scanned the crowd for Dick, spotting him casually excusing himself from a conversation group, going for a refill at the bar. You reached him and grabbed him by the elbow, bringing him face to face with you. You made sure your back was to Stella before beginning to explain the situation.

"I heard" He told you in a mutter, making sure his lips were unreadable under Stella's stare from the distance.

"Then you know what she expects" You sighed, slipping your hands behind his neck. "It doesn't have to be deep, just convincing. Can you do this without grimacing?"

You thought he would stumble into some weak apology, or say something clever. He did neither, instead dived straight for your lips so quickly it was you who was taken by surprise. Naturally, all you could do is kiss him back and try to keep up with him. At some point you thought he would break off, but you weren't prepared for him to actually deepen the kiss. He wasn't letting you go, and it made you dizzy in all the best ways. Let's say you were thankful for his arm around your waist right about now. Finally, you still had to breathe, so you parted reluctantly.

"What was that for?" You asked, your eyes still dazed.

"An apology for irritating you unintentionally" He grinned boyishly, for probably the first time ever directed at you. "I'm an idiot"

"Can confirm" You replied, bringing him down on your lips again. This time, it was a bit shorter, but the spark was still very much present. "You should have done this a long time ago"

"I know" He nodded, his head slightly down and his puppy dog eyes shining even underneath the dark contact lenses. "You're a bit intimidating, I didn't know how to act"

You let out a loud laugh at his confession. "You're kidding"

He pouted.

"Me?" You repeated. "But you're– You're you!"

"Well, duh" He chuckled. "You've got me all tangled in here," He pointed at his chest. "Made me nervous all the time"

You melted just a little bit at his little display, before remembering doing this was a specialty of his. You were just not used to be on the receiving end of it. "You're lucky you're cute, and that I'm already sold on you"

The bright grin returned.

"As heartwarming as this moment is, please focus on the task at hand" Bruce's stern voice echoed in your head, and you were suddenly reminded your conversation had been integrally transmitted to him.

"Right, sorry" Dick apologized sheepishly.

"See, I told you"

This time, you were taken by surprise by Stella walking on you. Even Bruce's intervention hadn't quite brought you back to reality. Damn Dick Grayson, damn him. You turned around, trying to hide your flustered state and instead focusing on the tall gentleman at her side. Must be Felix Lachance, you thought.

"It works every time" She added, sipping from a new glass of champagne.

"You were right" You let out an airy laugh. "Stella, this is my husband Joey Moore. Joey, this is my new friend Stella"

They shook hands before she introduced her husband to the both of you. You already knew his name, but you both pretended you didn't for the sake of your covers.

"Nice to meet you two" Félix smiled politely.

"Hey, would you like to go for a drink after this?" Stella asked. "I sure would like to get to know you two better"

Dick and you exchanged a glance, knowing you had locked the target. Acquiring intel from now on would only be a piece of cake, the base was laid for further actions. You smiled, returning your glance to Stella.

"That would be absolutely lovely"

[openheart12]

I Did Something Bad

A/N: Today is my lovely adoptive mom’s @burnsoslow birthday! I never thought me making a post about yk what would lead to our friendship and Kryce! I hope you have the best day ever and that it is every bit as amazing as you are! I’m so thankful for your friendship and how you make me laugh until I cry or pee fvhujskdghfn and you’re the only one who could ever make me into a Drake stan. I love you so much! Eat all the cake you can for me! Happy birthday, love! I hope you know how much I adore you ❤

A/N 2: This is very much full of Donald Trump hate and despitement because who wouldn’t hate him anyways jkhkdjgh there’s also quite a bit of cussing 

Word Count: 2,613

Thank you @rigatonireid for pre-reading!! 

“This is bullshit,” Kurns exclaimed as Bryce and Dick were watching the events unfolding at the United States Capitol. “This is why you don’t vote for oranges.” She said while rolling her eyes. 

“Agreed,” the two men replied in unison. 

“Jinx!” They replied again at the same time that led to twenty minutes of them saying “jinx again” in response until Dick finally gave in and let Bryce win. 

“You win, Bryce-y poo,” he had said. Kurns had kept her attention glued to the television during their little game. 

“You okay over there, banana flavored moonpie?” Dick asked, directing his attention over to Kurns. 

“No, look at all those turnips. And the cult leader himself told them to do this shit. People actually voted for this moron? They should all get head CTs to check for brain damage which they undoubtedly have.” 

“Would it make you feel better if we overthrew the government while kidnapping Donnie?” Dick asked seriously. 

“Yes, actually,” she answered with a wide grin. 

“Okay, let me make a few phone calls and can you download some episodes of My Little Pony on Netflix for Bryce?” Kurns nodded her head in response, she also took the liberty of downloading Among Us on their phones so they wouldn’t be bored on the flight. 

The flight from North Delanois was a little over eight hours and being on a plane that long with a toddler, well Bryce, was going to be a challenge. 

It was a private jet so hopefully it would be more bearable, but just in case she also downloaded a few episodes of Max and Ruby and Yo Gabba Gabba. She also downloaded some episodes of Parks and Rec and Friends for herself. 

After packing the essentials; clothing, toiletries, handcuffs, whipped cream, ice cubes -who knew- and My Little Pony gummies, they were off to the airport.  

“Dick Kock,” Dick said introducing himself along with Kurns and Bryce. 

Kurns was decked out in a Taylor Swift 1989 t-shirt and a pair of leggings with her trusty white vans whereas Bryce was dressed in a rainbow colored polka dot shirt, black and white striped pants, one blue croc and the other was yellow, and socks with weed on them. Him and Kurns had forgotten about meth since it already landed them in jail one. Chris P. Bacon was still a sore subject for the pair. 

They boarded the plane and Bryce immediately went to find his gummies. Kurns took a seat next to Dick and pulled up CNN news to get an update on the attack on the Capitol. 

Suddenly breaking news flashed across her phone screen: Taylor Swift set to release her tenth studio album later today. 

“OH MY GOD! BRYCE LOOK!” Kurns exclaimed, jumping up out of her seat to show Bryce. 

“OH MY GOD! TS10! TS10! TS10!” He chanted. 

“Oh wow, that sure is exciting!” Dick chimed in. 

“By the way, D, I think we should call this Operation ‘I Did Something Bad’ in honor of Taylor’s new album.” 

“That’s a spectacular idea, Kurnel Mustard!” Bryce said with a smirk, it had been a new nickname he had given her after the three of them had played Clue one night.

“Shut up, Apple Bottom Jeans, Boots with the Fur,” she retaliated, mocking the Little Pony named Apple Jacks. 

“Stfu,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You must be really mad if you’re talking in text.”

“Dick,” he pouted, “she’s doing it again.” 

“Be nice you two, we have a long flight ahead of us.” 

For the first two hours, they each did their own thing; Dick was reading a hunting magazine, Kurns was watching the news, and Bryce had already finished the entirety of My Little Pony. 

“Do you guys wanna play Among us?” Kurns asked out of the blue. 

“Hell yeah! I just bought the baby crew mate and I’m dying to use it,” Bryce responded. 

“I’ve never played before but sure!” 

“Okay so you’re either a crew mate or impostor and if you’re a crew mate, you have to do these tasks whilst trying not to die and if you’re an impostor, you go around killing other crew mates trying not to get caught in the process. You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” Kurns explained. 

“Thanks love bug,” Dick placed a quick kiss to the side of her head. 

The three of them found an open lobby and talked in the chat box waiting for the game to start and when it did, Dick asked the question of, “why is my name red?” 

“Oh my God, Dick! Don’t say that. It means you’re an impostor,” Bryce explained at the same exact time Kurns called an emergency meeting. 

“It’s purple,” Kurns typed in the text box, referring to Bryce’s color. 

“What the frick! It’s so not me. I’m not playing anymore,” he pouted, turning off his phone and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Now, children, can you two not get along? Think about the bigger picture,” Dick intervened. 

“True, but I’m still not going to play with her.”

His statement didn’t affect Kurns in the slightest and she went back to playing the game. Dick joined her while Bryce was running away from an imaginary dragon and he ended up colliding into one of the seats, face first. 

“Ow,” he rubbed his forehead that was now bright red. 

“That’s what you get for being a baby,” Kurns said, not looking up from her phone while Dick went to go check on his blueberry muffin. 

“You okay, strawberry flavored fig bar? That’s quite a hit you took.” 

“Yeah, a kiss would make it feel better though,” he said, using his puppy dog eyes. Dick smiled softly at him before kissing his forehead all better. 

The three of them spent the next six hours playing games, eating, and watching movies from the age of the dinosaurs that Kurns had saved since she was over 10,000 years old. 

After landing in Washington D.C., the trio headed straight to the Whitehouse, if people could storm the Capitol, how much harder could it be to kidnap the president? That was Kurns logic at least and as it turns out, it wasn’t that much harder. 

Kurns went to the Oval Office while Dick and Bryce went to the bunker since that apparently seemed to be Trump’s favorite place in the Whitehouse. But unexpectedly, Kurns found the Donald Duck under the office in the Oval, tweeting away on his iPhone 4s. 

“Mr. Racist,” she called and he immediately turned to look at her. 

“What? I’m tremendously busy if you can’t tell.” 

“I see that, Mr. Pigman.” 

“That is hugely racist towards me. I happen to be winning very bigly at the moment. I’m trending on Twitter!” He said proudly, he then proceeded to show Kurns his crusty ass phone. 

“Come on, I have some candy for you if you come with me,” Kurns coaxed him out from under the desk and led him to the white van they had brought with them, you know, the kind your parents warn you to stay away from. 

“Fake news!” Trump exclaimed with a huff. “You must be friends with sleepy Joe.” 

“You’re right,” she winked. 

“You know, frankly, this doesn’t make America great.” 

“I disagree, I think this definitely makes America great again,” Kurns retaliated. 

“Does Mikey know about this?” 

“Yeah, we planned it with the fly,” she snickered. 

“Well, it’s fake news, believe me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing you libtards wouldn’t understand it anyways. Anyways, what's that thing on your face?” 

“My mask?” 

“Yeah, what’s that for?” 

Kurns shook her head, not even being surprised by the question. “We’re in the middle of a pandemic, Donald Dump.” 

“What’s a panoramic?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” She got out her walkie talkie to talk to the boys. “The orange has expired. Over,” she said, their code word for getting Trump out. 

“Okay, bet, we’re on our way out. Over.” 

“Good job, K!” Dick said. 

“See you soon and thanks! Over.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Dick and Bryce arrived with a six foot cutout of Donald. 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“Hey, that’s me!” Trump chimed in. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Kurns said, she was quickly losing brain cells being in his proximity. 

“That is rude, quite frankly.” 

“We found it in his bedroom… along with some other, uh, questionable things,” Bryce explained. 

“Like what?”

“Like a, uh, dildo with Pence on it.” 

“Ew…” they all turned to look at Trump who was looking away and whistling, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. 

“Oh, um, about that. That was a tremendous invasion of privacy.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” they all said in unison and he pulled an imaginary zipper over his lips and threw away the key like a literal child. 

“I can’t be near him anymore,” Kurns said suddenly, getting out her phone to call someone. 

“Who are you calling?” Dick asked. 

“Joe, I was gonna invite him to go get some ice cream.” 

“OMG! I wanna go too!” Bryce exclaimed. 

“And me!” Trump said. 

“No, to both of you. You two have to keep an eye on Don and make sure he stays off of Twitter.” She was explaining when Joe picked up the phone. “Hey, Joe, do you want to go get ice cream somewhere?” 

“Duh! Taylor is actually here right now and you don’t care if she comes do you?” He asked to make sure. 

“Of course not! You can bring Champ and Major too! I know Jill is busy right now.” 

“Okay! On our way!” He said before hanging up. 

“Where are you going to go?” 

“Probably McDonald’s or something, Taylor is also coming with us, he said.”

“YOU MEAN THE TAYLOR?” Bryce asked in shock. 

“Yeah, him and Taylor are like BFF���s.” 

“I still like her music 25% less, okay?” Donald brought up. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Kurns said again. 

“Fine, fine. But could you make sure Barron is fed?” 

“Oop,” Bryce slapped his hand over his mouth. 

“Yes, now shut up.” 

Kurns was getting ready to go meet Joe and Taylor when Melania walked up to the van. “You have Trump?” She asked quietly. 

“Yeah, why? You need him?” 

“Yeah, could you make him sign this?” She placed some papers in Kurns hand. She read them and wasn’t shocked after realizing they were divorce papers. 

“No problem, hold tight real quick. Dick, make him sign these!” 

“Of course, ladybug.” He took a hold of Trump’s hand and wrote his name for him since he wouldn’t do it himself. 

“Here you go,” Kurns handed the papers back to Melania and she left without looking back. “Okay, I’m leaving. Be careful with that moron and for the love of God, don’t let his supporters know you have him.” 

“Roger that!” Bryce responded. 

“Don’t worry, vanilla brown sugar! We’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone. Have fun!” He called after her. 

She met Joe and Taylor at a local McDonald’s and greeted both of them with a hug. “Congratulations on winning the election and congratulations on album number ten!” She reached down to pet both of the German Shepherds who happily wagged their tails. 

“Thanks!” They replied in unison. 

“So how are the boys?” Taylor asked. 

“Good! They sent their regards. They’re actually, uh, holdingtrumphostage,” she said fast enough so hopefully they couldn’t understand but they are actually educated. 

“WHAT?” Joe exclaimed. 

“Miss gurl, how did y’all pull that off?” Taylor asked while hysterically laughing. 

“It was easier than I thought! Either security sucks or they wanted Trump gone and I can’t blame them for that.” 

“Amen sister!” Joe replied. 

“Can we see him?” Taylor asked. 

“I mean, yeah if you want!” 

“Okay let’s go!” She went to get up when Joe gently grabbed her arm. 

“But the ice cream…” He reminded her. 

“Of course, how could I forget?” She playfully rolled her eyes. They all ate their ice cream before heading back to the Whitehouse. 

Once arriving, Taylor and Joe headed straight to the front doors while Kurns stood there like 🧍‍♀️. “Hey guys, he's actually right there,” she said, pointing to the white van. 

Taylor opened the door to find Bryce half asleep on the ground, Dick was listening to ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ and dancing in his seat meanwhile, Donald had his lips glued to the side of the door, making out with it. 

“What the fuck?” All three of them asked at the same time. 

“OMG TAYLOR! HI! HOW ARE YOU?” Bryce shouted, jumping up off of the floor and pulling her into a hug. 

“Hi!” 

“Hello, Ms. Swift,” Dick greeted, gracefully bowing. “Mr. President,” he nodded. 

“How did you all meet?” Don asked. 

“We actually just met, our hate for you is what we bond over!” Joe explained in terms he would understand. Hopefully. 

“Oh,” was all he said and started to play with his fingers. “I don’t know if you knew this, but Washington D.C. is actually the capital of the United Stats. Did you know that?”

“What did you think it was? And it’s the United States, not… Stats.” Kurns asked in a surprisingly concerning tone. 

“I thought it was like a stat… or well state. Whatever it is.” 

“Oh,” Kurns said while Taylor called him an idiot under her breath. 

“That’s embarrassing miss gurl,” Bryce chimed in. 

“ARE YOU TALKING TIKTOK TO ME? I WILL BAN YOU,” Trump threatened. 

“Please, these empty promises you keep making are getting really old just like your term,” Dick said, making the others die of laughter… no literally, some Trump supporter that had been walking by had just collapsed and died. 

“And I oop-” Kurns and Bryce said at the same time. 

“IFHCBXNZNZ, HAHAHAHA,” Bryce barked out. 

“Can we get something to eat? I really want some Dino nuggies 🥺,” Trump pleaded. 

“No,” they all replied. 

“So what are we going to do with him?” Taylor asked. 

“I don’t know, what do y’all want to do with him?” 

“Excellent question, K, I say we feed him to some alligators!” Bryce exclaimed, flapping his two arms together to make an alligator jaw and started running towards Donald who jumped back in fear. 

“That���s not nice,” he pouted, a lone tear trickling down his cheek. 

“Fuck you, but not literally or physically,” Taylor said, making sure to explain what she meant. 

“I want some My Little Pony gummies!” 

“Me too!” Donald said with a smile now on his crusty, orange ass face. 

“No,” they replied again. 

“Fine,” he crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back to them, like the toddler he is. 

“Anyways, y’all want to go get Cookout?” Kurns suggested. 

“Yeah, of course!” Joe responded. 

The five of them headed to the nearest Cookout to get food and milkshakes, leaving Trump behind all alone. After hanging out with Taylor and Joe, it was unfortunately time to head back to North Delanois. With promises to meet up soon, the trio were soon enough taking off at the airport. 

“What ended up happening to Trump?” Bryce asked seriously. 

“He went to prison.” 

“As he should, period,” Kurns said with a smirk. 

“What are we going to do when we land?”

“Sleep!” Kurns and Bryce said. 

“Of course, my love doves. I’m going to try to do that right now, so please try to get along.” 

“Promise!” Kurns said, holding out her pinky finger which he took and kissed. The rest of the flight was surprisingly peaceful, Kurns and Bryce were able to get along while Dick slept. It had been a fun trip, one they hoped they would actually never have to make again. 

Tags: @burnsoslow @ao719 @callmeellabella @rigatonireid because no one else should have to read this :)

[rotten-whispers]

Trump Card - short story

This piece was written directly before the 2020 presidential elections, but has no affiliation to any political leaders of any kind. . . Nor was it written out of humorous anxiety or political parody, all of that is simply a coincidence of course.

(Also available on wattpad, link in bio)

The year is 2116, and you have just sat down to watch the news.

Hopefully, of course. Because there hasn't been any good news in a very long time. The world has gone downhill in the past 100 years, people have said. And now it's a caricature of what it used to be, ripened by catastrophe and apocalyptic apathy in every corner of the globe.

You sip your coffee and wait.

The news will come on at 11am and play until 2pm, where, on the dot, it will be shut off. People should not be over encumbered by disaster, the news stations were told. Our country should only have to stomach it for a few hours every day.

You've never cared very much for the news yourself, of course, because it isn't very interesting. All of the suffering is so overdone, honestly, you've seen it all in the past 30 years that you've been around. Plague, war, environmental catastrophe, attempted alien invasion, progress toward time travel – pish, posh, uninteresting! What new disaster could ever hope to capture your attention? They were fighting a losing battle.

But still you watch the news, because there isn't anything else on right now. Plus, the presidential elections are coming up, and perhaps there will be something interesting there.

All sorts of candidates have appeared in the past 100 years, but they've all been eerily similar. All with the same unprofessional, almost childish ignorance. They have all had the same taste in fashion, and the same swirl of golden hair.

How odd, you and the rest of the world thought. I wonder if these people could be related.

Every year, one of these people would win, too, but every year, there was still a fool who would try to run against them. A poor fool, growing ever more desperate, who would rant and pull their hair and emphatically struggle to get the country to just once, god, just once vote for the other party.

Never any dice, of course. And so the clonal line would continue to win, year after year, and the world shrugged its shoulders and said well, you voted for him, cannot help you there, sorry.

The problem was, you don't believe that you did vote for him -- you didn't vote at all in the last election. Or the one before that, or the one before that. And the one before that? Then, you did, but you definitely voted for the other party.

The poor woman, dressed in blue, who turned directly to the cameras and begged your country to vote for somebody else.

"Not even me," She had said. "Just anybody but him again!"

So you had voted for her. And so had all of your friends, and your friends' friends, and their friends, and everybody that you had ever met. All of you voted for the frantic lady in blue, because you felt that she was right.

Those people did win every year, come to think of it. Perhaps it was time for a change.

But still one of them won. And still they laughed, wearing the same triumphant smirk that your country had become accustomed to, as the frantic lady shook her head and shouted: "What is wrong with you people?!"

That was the last year that you or anybody that you knew had voted. Now even the act of signing the ballot was a waste of time, because our fate was sealed long before the numbers would even be counted.

And this strange line of people, all with identical faces, all with identical heads of strange, golden hair – which had to be toupees, of course, because they looked so unbelievably false – they continued to rule.

And you continued to watch the debates, with a shrug for the other side, who never once gave up trying.

But there is always the hope that this year will be different.

You really, genuinely pray that it will be, because things really seem to be getting worse. The amount of caffeine in your "coffee" is negligible at this point -- hell, the amount of coffee in your coffee is negligible at this point! And don't even mention chocolate. You had dreams of chocolate, the forbidden crop from the dying rain forest. Every year, for your birthday, you scrounged up enough money to buy a single square, and by god did you cherish it. It was a bittersweet reminder of how the world used to be, a hundred years ago.

At least now, however, there were plenty of things to watch on Tv. Plenty of drama to keep yourself occupied.

When the news begins, you eagerly settle down into your favorite chair.

Saturday mornings, a wonderful time to catch up on the rest of the world. It was the perfect escape from the dreary office in which you worked, toeing the line hour after hour, trying to reach that sweet 10pm when you would be released. The new work day was 8am – 10pm, or hadn't you heard? We have to break our backs to afford air conditioning, of course, because the globe has gotten so unbelievably hot as of late.

That was the first story that you sat through, bored to tears almost immediately. Bored of the weatherman as he predicted another record high temperature.

"Wow, and we are going to be at triple digits for our record fifth month in a row! This is truly an unbelievable event!" He said, nearly word for word as his announcement last week. You change the channel.

This one is delivering an update on the plague. It has gotten worse, of course, as it does every week.

"In these troubling times we ask that you keep faith in our government, which is taking every possible precaution." The man said. His words were immediately interrupted by a commercial, advertising a new theme park which had opened in Oklahoma, and which promised a 10% discount to anyone who bought a group pass for the new season.

"You won't regret it!" Chittered the tv. "Nobody has ever regretted having fun!"

That's the usual entourage of disaster, you think. The world always ends the same way, and it does so about five times a month. You flip to the next channel.

Don't worry, they always said, we have everything under control. And then there would be an update with more bad news, and so the cycle would repeat. Sometimes the news felt more like a punishment than a privilege, these days.

But still, there is something that keeps you glued to your seat, the remnants of caffeine racing through your veins. You desperately want to find something new, something to distract yourself from the dreary world outside your doors. Because this is your day off, and you feel that you deserve a break.

Eventually, just before 2pm, on a research channel that you or hardly anyone ever watches, you find your distraction.

"A strange new discovery has been made that promises to change the course of history forever!" The woman on screen says, excitedly. "Dr. Dire, an entomologist has come all the way from South America to talk to us today about a strange little bug! Dr. Dire, what do you have for us?"

Coolly, a man appears. "Thank you, Miss Waters. My research crew and I have discovered a very unusual new form of parasitism that we have never quite encountered before. Have you ever heard of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis?"

"No," The announcer says. "No, I can't say that I have."

"Well, it's more commonly known as the zombie ant fungus. It's a parasite that penetrates the exoskeleton of ants, using them as a tool for reproduction. Essentially, this fungus changes the ant's behavior by forcing the host to climb to the top of a leaf or stem and permanently clamp its mandibles on the plant. Then the fungus will develop a stalk from the ant's head, releasing spores and mummifying its prey."

"That sounds horrifying! And this mind control fungus is what you wanted to talk to us about?"

"No, no." Now his cool attitude shatters, for a moment, filled with scientific intrigue. "I am here today to talk to you about Megalopyge opercularis, the southern flannel moth. Because we have just proven that as a caterpillar, this species is capable of the same complex parasitism and mind control as the zombie ant fungus. And from our experiments, depending on the host of the caterpillar, the lifespan may increase severely as well. We're looking at 30, maybe 40 years of parasitism! While an oblivious host is completely overtaken and used for this insect's needs, unable to communicate, cry, or even scream for help."

"Scream?" The woman repeats, with a laugh, but his eyes are serious when they train onto her.

"Yes, scream, because this creature can parasitize humans as well. We had an accident in the lab," He leans in closer to the camera, suddenly very, darkly serious. "One of our researchers, his suit broke. And this caterpillar crawled on top of him, pinning itself to the top of his skull. We heard him scream, from the horrible stinging hairs -- but we weren't able to reach him in time."

"Did he die?" Both you and the woman are completely enthralled.

"Oh, no," Dr. Dire says. "He was perfectly fine. Or so we thought. . . until a week later, when we discovered that his personality had almost completely changed. He had always been very. . . progressive," The scientist looks uncomfortable. "But now he was almost like. . . Like a caricature of himself."

Dr. Dire narrows his eyes. "My friend had become a completely different person overnight, and we could not find a reasonable explanation for his behavior. . . I thought that it might have been stress, or trauma from the incident, until one day when we ran into each other outside of work -- outside of our protective suits. And then I saw the top of his head."

"And?" She leans toward him.

"And the caterpillar was there. All of his hair had fallen out and the beast was in its place, like a wig, like a toupee. It had become him, Miss Waters. I know that it had. This ignorant, sexist fool is not one of my colleagues anymore. He is not one of my friends. He is a monster and the entire world must know what this parasite is capable of."

"I'm afraid that we're running out of time," The host begins to say, with a smile, but Dr. Dire frantically interrupts, forcing the camera back onto him.

"Listen to me, this caterpillar can infect anyone! We have noticed unusually high populations in the wild, with a distribution that has overtaken most of North America. This creature is not suffering from the changing climate, it is thriving. It is almost as though each and every one of our catastrophes has been a benefit to this beast. It thrives as we perish!"

"Dr. Dire, please-"

"No!" He yells, slamming a fist down onto the table. "This thing has taken over our world! Can't you see? Our ruined planet has become the perfect place for this moth to reproduce. Our bodies have become the perfect hosts for its young to inhabit! And all of us are just sitting by and waiting while it makes everything worse!"

"I think that you're overreacting," Miss Waters says. "How could a caterpillar possibly make the world a worse place? Even if it can control its victims, it's just a bug, isn't it?"

"It isn't just a bug," The man says, and he buries his head in his hands, suddenly looking very, very tired, like he had not slept in weeks. "My friend has never expressed an interest in politics before, but do you know the first thing that he said to me, before he left the lab?"

She shakes her head and Dr. Dire gives a dark, desolate laugh.

"He said: "The elections are coming up. I think that I'll run for president this year."

Something about this story has started to deeply unnerve you, and you are grateful when the news finally ends.

Perhaps it was that horrible desperation in the scientist's eyes -- like a man who had given up entirely, because everything was already lost.

You need to distract yourself from the prickling discomfort in the back of your mind, so you scrounge up some rationales. This caterpillar cannot possibly be that bad -- the researcher was only trying to fear monger because it's election season.

In fact, maybe he was crazy – they always say that you can't trust science these days. Maybe this caterpillar doesn't even exist.

With the news ended, the presidential debates would begin soon. But you feel too unnerved to simply wait -- it's time to settle your suspicions once and for all. So you pull up the caterpillar species on your laptop, and start reading, as the Tv flickers behind you.

Megalopyge opercularis, also known as the southern flannel moth, is renowned for its strangely shaped caterpillars, which are covered with stinging golden hairs, resembling a badly made toupee. The species has adapted readily to the changing global climate, and is now very common in all areas of the globe, particularly North America, where it reproduces in swarms every 4 years.

Every four years, you think, checking the date of its last swarm. 4 years ago, almost exactly. Just a month ahead of the presidential debates, just in time for the upcoming election.

The feeling of discomfort has blossomed into full fledged anxiety, now, as you stare at the television, waiting for the debate to begin.

There is something horribly familiar about this caterpillar, you think. Something that very strongly resembles its golden hair.

"Hello everyone," The president says, as he approaches the stage with his usual grin, like fangs locked in a sneer. He knows that this debate is just a formality, because there is no fear of losing, not anymore. Not since the past 100 years, when his party would win, year after year after year.

You and the thousands of other viewers wait for him to speak, anxiously studying his form. Thinking to yourself that he really does resemble the last president -- and the one before that, and the one before that, ad infinitum.

You wait, and you watch, and eventually, you finally start to realize the source of the scientist's desperation.

On the top of your president's head, as with all of the previous ones, is a mop of wispy golden hair, completely and utterly identical to the parasitic caterpillar.

"Let's get on with it then, shall we?" The president says, leering at the camera. "I have a feeling that this year's election is going to be especially interesting."

[what-the--curtains]

Braving the Elements

Chapter 4: explanations and introductions

TW: mentions of forced experimentation, swearing

Songs

(playing when she enters the room with all the Avengers)

(when she first looks at Bucky and then again when demonstrating her powers)

Authors note: oof this is a long one but our boy is finally in it! Once again apologies for not making it a (continue reading) but i am trapped on mobile RIP

“Sorry about this.” Wanda says, tightening the cuffs currently trapping your hands behind your back.

“ Don’t worry about it, I’d have done the same.” you say.

“Jesus (Y/N) what have you gotten yourself into now?” she chuckles uneasily with worry in her eyes, as she gently grazes the bruise on your face with her hand.

“Oh you know me. Just placed my bet on the wrong horse is all.” You say lightly. She removes her hand nodding slightly. This answer seems to have satisfied her for now.

“Well most of the guys are asleep, but you can meet the head honchos now.” she says.

“ What is this an Al Pacino movie?” you ask with a smile.

She laughs, picking up the bag you had dropped on the floor and leading you to the elevator.

As you enter the room the four Avengers all stare at you. You had seen them on the news before so you could put names to faces. Not to mention you choked one of them out yesterday. Tony speaks up first “Well this is uncomfortable.” You clear your throat before speaking

“Sorry about the light choking cap! Nothing personal.”

“Sorry about the shield in the back” he responds.

“So, even Stevens then?” You ask with a hopeful smile.

“No..” says Tony screwing up his eyebrows in confusion “Not, ‘even Stevens’, you robbed a bank, severely injured four guards and have been working for a mobster for the past six months!”

“Fair enough.” you reply, “Hey Wanda wanna open that bag you have there?” Looking at you with just a hint of doubt she opens the bag and pulls out one of many wads of cash.

“Figured I shouldn’t show up empty handed, so I brought back the money I stole and the safe thing. That’s in there too.”

“Not bad” Tony shrugs, peering into the bag.

“As for the whole working for a mobster thing it’s really not what it looks like. I mean I didn’t want to take up crime. It just kinda happened!” You express.

“Alright then, please enlighten us on how you started as a friend of our dear Wandas and ended up robbing banks.” Tony says taking a seat across from you.

“Alright don’t get your panties in a knot Stark. I’ll start at the beginning, and please hold your applause until the end. My parents sold me to a government run lab at the ripe old age of 7 when I first started showing signs of being “different” “ you say making air quotes around the final word.

“When the mutant gene presented itself.” Wanda clarifies

“ I mean, I did accidentally light the couch on fire after getting angry about something, but in my defense, I was a kid! How was I supposed to know any better? By my ninth birthday Xavier had managed to shut down the lab on the basis of it violating the mutant rights act. He took all us kids in and taught us how to control our powers and gave us a pretty amazing education. It was the first real home I ever had and it was also where I met Wanda.” Your voice falters for a second. “Hey, by the way I’m really sorry about Pietro, he was a great kid, best kind, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” She gives you a small, but reassuring smile and you continue “When I turned 18 I decided to leave, wanted to see what the world had to offer. Along the way I met Magneto who convinced me that what he was doing was right, so I joined his fight. Then proceeded to lose said fight. All of us non-compliant mutants were given two options: go to prison or serve your country and join the military!” you say in an old timey radio voice

“So you chose prison and Roman broke you out?” Nat inquired

“Oh god no! I picked the military, figured I’d get out eventually, but I got tired of fighting for a country that secretly hated my existence, so I tried to leave, but they wouldn’t let me. When I refused to fight they discharged me, deemed me a danger to society and locked me up in one of those fancy prisons you helped build Mr. Stark. By the way do you know what really goes on in there?” Tony glances at you out the corner of his eye “I designed it, I don’t run it, so no” he scoffs.

“Figured as much, your type don’t tend to care once you’ve got a payment” you state matter of factly.

“Hey, now that’s a bit out of line.” Steve jumps in defending Tony

“You know what was out of line Mr. America?” you snap back “Being forcibly tested without my consent. I lost teeth, bone marrow, fingernails, and part of my liver and I was only there for 6 months, so maybe you should look into that Mr. high and mighty.” Tony’s face turns white “No, I didn’t know that.” he manages to say. Cap and Nat avoid your eyes, but are obviously shocked while Wanda wipes away a single tear.

“ Come on don’t act so naive, mutant testing has been going on for years they just got better at hiding it. Anyways, Romy broke me out so I went to work for him.”

“Makes sense guy saves you from a life time of torture I’d work for him as well.” Nat says.

“So why did you leave him?”, Steve asks

“What? The face doesn’t give it away.” you reply “Also turns out the guy legally owns me.”

“He what?” Nat and Wanda yell in unison

“Ya the bastard drugged me up and got me to sign a contract signing myself over to him. So, I left, wanted to make things right and now I’m here to offer my help, get redemption or whatever. If you’ll have me.” No one says anything “Well I mean I also kinda figured you were my best shot at bringing him down. See he has dozens of mutant files in his office, but I’ve never seen any of them. Leading me to the conclusion that he’s up to something.”

“And why exactly should we trust you after all you’ve done?” Tony poses

“Wanda side pocket of the bag,” she pulls out multiple brown folders

“That’s my contract, along with ones belonging to a few other mutants, also I’m gonna need you to cut my arm open” you say. They look up at you with concerned, and slightly disturbed, faces.

“There’s a microchip in it with all the downloaded files from his work computer before I blew it, and his HQ up.”

“Pretty crafty. I knew I liked you!” Nat smiles

“Thanks!” you return

“Well it’s a pretty good start,” says Tony “but the others will have to agree. So we’ll have a vote in the morning. Which is in approximately,” he pauses looking down at his watch, “5 hours so I’d suggest we all get some sleep.” The rest of the team nods in agreement and Nat, Tony and Steve leave the room. Wanda hangs back for a second “Hey, I’m really glad you’re here I’ve missed you.”

Sheepishly you respond “Ya, I’ve missed you too. Hey Wanda?”

She stops in the doorway “Ya?”

“Is the rest of the team as hot as you guys?” you ask wiggling your eyebrows

She snorts “Oh ya. Just wait till you meet the rest of them, they blow Summers out of the water.”

“Which Summers brother Wanda? Which one?” you call with fake urgency, but she doesn’t answer.

You’re woken up by the sound of light tapping on glass. You must have dozed off. Wanda walks in with two cups of coffee, placing one down in front of you. She puts her own cup down on the table and frees your hands. “Thanks,” you say shaking out your arms, which had partially fallen asleep, before taking the cup from her.

From a distance you hear Tony’s voice exclaiming

“Well we have a very special surprise for you all. A delivery that arrived last night.” Stopping in front of the door he continues “Now some of you may know her, but for those who don’t, this…” he says pointing towards you through the glass “is (y/n).” You gaze back at the substantial group of people currently staring at you, suddenly understanding how a tiger in a zoo might feel. The group has two teens, one of which you recognized as Shuri, the princess of Wakanda. You also take note of the four large, and very attractive male Avengers making up the rest of the group who you recognized as Clint, Sam, Bucky and Vision . “You were right, they are hot, even better than they look on the news!” you whisper to Wanda causing her to roll her eyes.

“Hey! You trapped me in a tree!” the teen boy pipes up

“Spiderman is a child?” You question, before Peter can denounce the use of the term child, you continue “Sorry about that kid. I won't do it again. Promise!”

“So were just letting any run of the mill villains onto our team?” Sam asks.

“ Well I wouldn’t exactly call myself run of the mill, and I did bring back the cash I borrowed.” You say.

“ Borrowed?” Bucky asked with a smirk, you go to say something snarky back, but are taken aback for a moment when your eyes meet his. Wow. These have gotta be the most gorgeous eyes you’d ever seen, a color of blue that falls somewhere between a stormy ocean and steel. You hadn’t failed to notice that they were attached to a very nice face, leading you to speculate that his body was probably equally as exquisite. You quickly pull yourself out of the trance realizing you probably hadn’t said anything in a few seconds and were just openly staring at this man.

“Ya, borrowed, I took it and brought it back, how would you define the term?” Sam laughs, and Bucky frowns slightly before nodding his head in agreement.

“Also weren’t like, at least half of you guys, all villains at some point?” you ask.

“That is a very valid point” Clint spoke up.

“Thank you! Your my new favorite person” you say causing Wanda to give you a look of fake offence.

“Alright now you’ve met her it's time to cast votes to see if she should join the team.” Steve says

“Wait!” you exclaim, “Don’t you guys want to know what you’re buying before you pay for it?”

You smile at Wanda. She reluctantly gives into your demand huffing out a “Fine. Anyone got any water?” Peter pulls his backpack forwards to his chest and takes out his water bottle throwing it to Wanda. “Alright what about a lighter?” Leaning forward Bucky pulls one out of his back pocket and throws it at you. Catching it you smile and place it on the table.

“Steve can you pull in that ficus from just outside the door?” lifting his eyebrows in suspicions he lifts up the potted plant and.

“Not bad doll” Bucky says almost impressed

“Well sweetie buckle up cause you ain’t seen nothing yet!” The half dead ficus Steve had dragged into the office suddenly began to turn green again and began sprouting new leaves. Using the air from the room you carefully pick the plant up and return it to the hallway dropping it back to its original spot.

“And for my final trick,” You say while flicking Bucky's lighter open. You gather a few embers and create a ball of fire between your hands. You extinguish the ball between your hands and throw the lighter back to Bucky.

“Well that’s gonna come in handy” Clint says

”I also served in the military for 2 years so I can shoot and fight as good as any of you”

“That I can personally vouch for” Steve says rubbing his throat “Anyway, let's vote.”

“Well I want you to stay,” Wanda says excitedly “we’ve got 10 years of catching up to do.”

You were surprised when the next person to pipe up was Bucky “ Can’t exactly say no, I was a war criminal before joining you guys.”

“I was a yes the second you blew up that building.” Nat says placing a hand on your shoulder.

So far everyone has said yes though some more begrudgingly than others.

Everyone looks to Tony for the final say.

“What the hell, she can stay, just no powers in the loft!”

“But what if I need something like an ice cube or a bonfire!” you proclaim

“Fine no destructive powers! Shuri can you get started on making her a suit?”

“Thank god someone with style is doing it” you say Causing Shuri to smirk and nod her head up at you

“Sam trains all the new recruits so you're going to go up against him tomorrow. He’ll figure out where you are in your fighting abilities” Tony says.

You turn to Sam and give him a wicked smile. Sam looks back at you, obviously concerned before muttering, “I swear if we just let another psychopath into this building so help me god”

“Don’t worry I’ll go easy on ya!” you say patting him on the back.

“C’mon” Wanda says, pulling your arm “I'll show you to your room!”

“Great!” you respond as she leads you down the hall “This is me, This is Bucky and then this is all yours” she says opening the door. The room was a decent size with a double bed, floor to ceiling windows, a closet and an ensuite bathroom. It wasn’t as extravagant as the apartment Roman had gotten you, but it’d do just fine “I’ll leave you to get unpacked” Wanda says before leaving the room. You head downstairs back to the car you had stolen the night before and grab your two suitcases out of the trunk. Using the midday wind, you launch them over towards the front entrance, almost hitting an unsuspecting Sam who was just exiting for a run with Bucky. “Sorry! Didn’t see you there.” You shout tensing up slightly.

“If you think taking me out with a suitcase is gonna give you the upper hand tomorrow you are sorely mistaken.” Sam laughs.

“Darn saw right through my clever plan!” you respond feigning disbelief.

“Nice car.” Bucky says

“Thanks I stole it.” you respond breezing by the two men and picking up your cases before heading up the stairs to the elevator

“You know I can’t tell if she’s joking or not.” Sam says looking to Bucky

“20 bucks says she isn’t.” he responds with a chuckle.

You make it upstairs and open your suitcase “unpacking” most of your clothes straight onto the floor before jumping in the shower.

The hot water hits your body and you begin to scrub away all the troubles (and grime) from the past two days. As you wash you notice the array of bruises on your body. Poking at one on your hip which you figure must have happened when you landed on it during the robbery. You press it again and squint in pain. After a thorough cleaning you turn off the water and wrap a towel around your body. Wiping steam off the mirror you look at your face. Your split lip had basically closed up and the bruises around your neck and on your face had gone from an array of dark purple hues to ones with yellowish undertones. After looking at your face for a bit longer you brush your teeth, put on your pyjamas and drift off to sleep.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “40 and 13″

Overpopulation caused the governments all over the world to vote for a drastic resolution: a special virus was created that makes everyone die when they turn 40 years old. The Joker will turn 40 in five days and Y/N can't cope with the news since she'll be left behind without him.

You and The Joker just finished eating dinner in front of the TV, trying to ignore the depressing news that shows the death toll climbing each day since the virus killing everybody once they turn 40 was unleashed upon the overpopulated Earth 12 months ago.

The King of Gotham is quietly sipping on his grape juice, debating if he should tell you or not; he’s been struggling with the decision for a while and being the way he is doesn’t help the matter.

“Pumpkin,” he starts the conversation,” did I ever mention my birthday is on July 13th?”

“Hm?” you turn your head towards him, not sure you heard right; you had a huge fight this morning and barely managed to patch things up enough to tolerate each other’s presence by night fall.

“You always wanna know when my birthday is and I’m telling you now it’s on July 13th.”

He keeps on staring at the TV s, disregarding your gaze that seems to burn through him.

Why is he suddenly sharing such an intimate detail? You tried several times to get it out of him without any reaction besides that of him getting mad and emphasize it’s none of your business. Unless…

“J…” you hesitantly ask. “How old are you going to be?...”

The Joker takes another sip from the can before placing it on the coffee table and nonchalantly enunciates:

“Fourty.”

He hears you sniffle it’s not difficult to predict you’re going to burst into tears in a few seconds.

“I’m only saying this because I didn’t want to drop dead without any warning; I’m sure you would hate me forever and we can’t have that happen: I do the hating part. That’s a sacred rule.”

And there she goes, he sighs as soon as Y/N begins bawling her eyes out next to him on the couch.

“…July 13th is in…in 5 days,” you manage to utter while crawling on his knees, your arms tightly going around his neck. J doesn’t stop you and actually hugs you back even if he promised himself he won’t tolerate any kind of emotional rubbish from his girlfriend.

“Yeap, coming up,” he buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling the perfume he likes and for some reason it’s not very comforting today. “You have three more years to go so make it count, ok?”

Y/N can’t stop crying and plans to blur out a million sentences yet the disclosure is overwhelming for the heartbroken woman.

“W-why didn’t you…” and The Joker can’t understand the following word but he comprehends the meaning.”…earlier?”

“I didn’t share earlier since it would have been atrocious to watch: when you cry you get these wrinkles in the middle of your forehead. Uggghhh”, he shrugs with fake disgust. “It makes you… how should I put it nicely?… Super ugly! For 5 days though…I believe I’ll be able to endure it.”

Y/N’s faint snorting noise prompts his smile too, aware she is not fighting back the stupid remark like she would usually do and that’s fine with him.

“P-please don’t leave me,” you kiss his cheek and cuddle to his body, panicking at the thought he’ll be gone in a few days.

“I don’t have a choice, Pumpkin. Nobody does. Not anymore.  It’s inevitable and you’ll have to deal with it…”

“What am I supposed to do without you?” you bring up the painful fact bound to become reality in such a short notice it physically hurts.

“Survive,” the candid reply advises. “You’re The King’s Queen so live for both until your time will come.”

J wishes to elaborate on the topic and you cover his mouth, upset.

“You’re not a King and I’m not a Queen. We’re just a man and a woman that screwed up over and over again; still…here we are. That’s it…That’s all there is…No King and no Queen,” you shake your head in denial. “Only us…” your voice dims under the burden of grief.

Your fingers slide off his lips, revealing a stunned Joker that seems to see his girlfriend for the first time. How come he didn’t realize sooner?! She loves him. She really does.

“Only us…” J repeats in a trance, pulling Y/N into a soft kiss that somehow feels more intimate than everything else they did before.

You glide your hands down his chest, the way you grind against him making it clear you want more than a make out session.

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me for the moment?” he tests the waters although the answer is logical.

“U-hum,” you take your t-shirt off and The Joker gropes you, the typical mischievous smirk lacking from his part: he just wants you close. Despite vehemently denying the hunger for your touch, the thought gives him an unexpected sense of loneliness. When all your life you’ve been nothing more than a walking contradiction, it’s hard to battle the inner demons caging your desire to the point of no return.

That’s why J wipes your tears and doesn’t have a smart ass comment regarding the smeared mascara: he craves the distraction with such intensity it makes the rest fade.

“I have some requests,” you whisper and he stares into your eyes, kind of lost and finding himself unable to resist the tempting lips pouted one inch from his.

“Oh yeah?” the curiosity takes over.

“No fighting,” you trace the tattoo on his abs and The Joker never agreed to anything faster:

“OK.”

“I want to talk about stuff we never talk about…”

“OK.”

“I want us to make love as much as possible,” you negotiate wondering if he will fuss about the spontaneous list summarized in a hurry.

“OK,” The Clown Prince of Crime consents without arguing to your terms because the truth is he has no intention to do so today.

“And I want some sort of proof that you like me,” Y/N boldly demands since he unfortunately indicated the opposite on numerous occasions in the past.

J frowns, not mumbling the OK you are expecting. The awkward silence continues and The Joker notices how hard you’re trying to hide your disappointment when actually he’s straining to conceal his own emotions. He shouldn’t indulge the urge of making you happy before it’s too late, yet the demons in his mind are quiet now: the accidental clarity could make a person finally act against their usual judgment.

You watch him pass his fingers through his locks, confused when he brings the longer strands in the front of his face. J carefully plucks one green hair out of his head, gesturing for your left hand. You hold it up and he twists the neon colored token at the base of your pinky, explaining his action while finalizing the project with a couple of knots:

“I guess you can say you have me wrapped around your finger.”

The girlfriend’s stunned expression is certainly worth the trouble of affirming it loud; The Joker savors the outcome and you take off your bra, tossing the lacy garment behind the sofa:

“Abandon all hope Mister Joker,” Y/N’s instant evil grin changes the mood.  “You belong to me now.”

*************

“I can’t sleep,” you stretch next to him on the couch.

“Me neither,” he yawns. “Even if you exhausted me,” J adds, yanking you in his arms again. You kiss his collar bone, restless at the question about to echo in the stillness:

“Are you afraid?”

The Joker has no idea on how to verbalize his inner views on the matter, but he doesn’t leave you hanging either.

“Maybe …I’m not thinking about it…”

“I am,” you squeeze in the important topic he probably didn’t even consider. “I’ll be here for you when it happens, but when I die…I will be alone...”

J feels this sharp pain in his heart that makes him realize a critical element: he didn’t have the opportunity to weigh in what dying before Y/N will mean for her.

“I’ll be here,” he pecks your forehead and you cling to him, discouraged at the obvious lie.

“Yeah, sure…”

“I promise I’ll be here, alright?”

“We are both aware how well you keep your promises,” you admonish in a way that doesn’t trigger his anger.

“I’ll keep this one, hm?” he reassures Y/N and she snickers at the impossible to fulfil vow, but appreciates his passionate response nevertheless. You nod a yes, drawing invisible circles on his skin.

“Do you want to dance on the terrace?” you suggest on a whim.

“OK,” The Joker quickly consents and gets up, grabbing the sheet from the floor. He takes your hand and guides you on the patio, unfolding the thin fabric as soon as you’re outdoors. Despite the cool breeze, it’s nice and warm in the middle of the night.  

“No music?” you tease as he wraps both naked bodies in the sheet.

“We dance to our own tune, Pumpkin,” he winks and slowly moves while tightly hugging you.

“We always did,” you play along, brushing away the horrible sentiment of regret clouding the peaceful atmosphere.

“It’s a jungle out there,” J stirs the dialogue in order to address his concerns. “This whole virus business is turning the world upside down. You saw on the news they might release the antivirus sooner than anticipated, but there are no guarantees. You have to find a way to survive no matter what.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine…”

“After I’m gone, please don’t do anything… reckless. It won’t be easy, but you can’t give up."

You know what he’s referring to and mutter:

“I won’t… I swear...”

J starts spinning faster, chuckling at your excited screams. 

“Stoooop!!!!” you beg laughing, trying not to trip and fall.

“Did you ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?” he bites your ear and you squeal, jumping out of the sheet that’s sliding to the ground since he’s not holding it anymore.

“No,” you giggle and J lifts you up in his arms, delighted to have found a small piece of heaven in the hell surrounding the gloomy future.

“Good; there’s a first time for everything,” he abruptly halts for a kiss before reprising the crazy pace while Y/N can’t remember the last time the two of them had so much fun.

*************

July the 13th, 8:45am

“I couldn’t help noticing you didn’t wish me a happy birthday,” he watches you comb your hair and the reflection in the mirror depicts a tearful girlfriend that struggles with so many emotions it’s difficult to speak. “I was hoping you’ll mention it while we took a shower.”

“Happy Birthday…”

“Thanks,” The Joker simply replies and you finally put the brush down and attempt to flee the bathroom when he blocks the exit. “Are you avoiding me?”

“Ummm… I’ll make breakfast…” you sniffle and he glares at you, understanding your reaction for once.

“I was planning to have sex, but I might kick the bucket right in the middle of the activity and I believe you might take it personally although I don’t consider you boring in bed.”

“It’s not funny…” you scold and he agrees:

“It’s not because it’s not meant to be,” the harsh reality strikes a chord within Y/N. “It literally can happen at any moment and I don’t want to embarrass myself like that. Can you imagine? Rumors spread all over town that The Joker couldn’t finish.”

He detects the faint smile and sulks at your verdict:

“You’re an idiot.”

“That’s fucking rude,” he scoffs. “What if these are the last words I hear?! What if I check out precisely this second, huh?! Would you be thrilled that’s the last thing you said to me?!”

Instead of a sassy remark J gets a remorseful apology he wasn’t aiming for:

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what to do…”

“Me neither,” he sincerely underlines. “In the meantime, you should…” and pauses since he suddenly feels out breath, “you should make breakfast.”

“Are you OK?” you inquire, worried he almost lost his balance.

“I’m fine, just need my coffee to wake up,” he sighs and steps away from the doorway, heading towards the master bedroom.

“Aren’t you coming downstairs?” you catch up with him and The Joker tilts over for your support.

“I’m a bit dizzy; I’ll lie down until you finish the food. Don’t look so panicked: after I eat I’ll be better.”

You gulp and place him in bed, your pulse so enhanced it gives you the impression you’ll faint soon.

“You want some water?” you offer and he adjusts his pillows, collapsing on top of them afterwards.

“Yes,” J musters the strength to grumble, this weird sensation of total exhaustion creeping up in his brain.

You rush out of the room and bump into the bookcase, numb at the soreness. The Joker barely perceives your stomping, digging under the cushions for a small envelope he keeps in his fist for you to find in case you don’t return before he loses consciences. He wrote the note yesterday and it would be a shame to chicken out at the end and not proceed as planned.

“Here’s the water,” you barge in with the bottle and run by the bed, nervously touching his face. “How are you? Can you stand up?”

His eyes go in the back of the head and he tries to concentrate on your voice as it fades into nothingness.

“Hey, I’ll make your favorite pancakes,” you shake him, startled he won’t snap out of his apathy. “J, look at me. Come on, let’s go downstairs…Can you at least drink some water?” you start sobbing seeing he’s not receptive to your encouragements.

The Joker’s lips are moving without sound and you fall on your knees, scared to see him frantically breathing:

“I know, alright? I already know. All I ask is that you come downstairs and eat your stupid pancakes, deal?”

The Joker’s eyes are closing and he deeply exhales, releasing the small piece of paper that rolls on the floor. You don’t even pay attention to it, desperate to witness an event you aren’t prepared for.

When The Joker came into this world 40 years ago, there was nobody there to love the newborn; his own mother didn’t want him.

But when he passed away at 9:03 am on his birthday, someone that loved him was there.  

**************

Three years later – your birthday, 6:07am

You turn off the TV, annoyed they continue to depict the terrible results after to the official release of the antivirus last week: it’s not working and people are still dying. What did they expect by opening Pandora’s Box? So much turmoil on the streets, protests and demonstrations…

The governments will be voting tomorrow on implementing the martial law since the public outcry makes it impossible to contain the escalating damage after the huge failure they neglected to speculate.

Y/N drags her feet on the carpet, watching the snowflakes dancing outside the windows.

“We shouldn’t postpone this any longer…” you talk to yourself, removing the precious message The Joker left behind out of the hidden drawer on top of the fireplace.

You unfold the envelope, reading the hand written note for the millionth time:

Inside you’ll find my real name.

You’re the only one I trust with this.

Destroy the evidence.

You don’t glance at the name it contains and his memory immediately makes the isolation unbearable. You flick the envelope on the burning logs, enjoying the flames consuming the last trace of who he really was.

“Done… I kept my end of the bargain; where’s yours?” you lecture The Joker’s framed picture decorating the dinner table. “Liar…” Y/N pats her hands together, feeling cold even if the fire is very warm. The ticklish sensation in your fingers intensifies, making you shiver. You stare at your knuckles, no other jewelry besides the strand of green hair still wrapped around your pinky; it’s infinitely more valuable than any present J ever gifted you.

A gush of wind makes the curtains fly inward since the sliding glass doors leading to the terrace are wide opened. The sky is still dark, matching the general mood hoovering over Gotham these days.

You decide to take a stroll on the patio, this way you might be able to clear your mind from the impending doom you can’t escape. The snow squeaks under Y/N’s socks and the chill gets her out of trance since evidently she didn’t bring a jacket either. Another step and you stumble, finding it difficult to regain your equilibrium.

“Shit…” you choke on the strong air filling up your lungs.

Why is it so difficult to walk?

You take a seat on the nearest chair by the pool, not bothering cleaning up the snow; for some reason a break is more than welcomed at this point. You’re growing restless and try to disregard the anxiety building up in your chest: are you dying? Or is merely stress after living with this burden for so long?

Maybe if you shut your eyes and rest for a sec, you won’t be this tired. Yet the moon is shining so brightly it’s impossible to ignore; last time it was this beautiful you danced with the devil on an that unforgettable summer night. Seems like ages ago for the worn out Y/N.  

What if you take a nap? Only five minutes. That should be helpful and then you can resume your morning routine because you refuse to accept this could be the end already. Your eyelids close, not realizing you don’t feel the cold anymore; it’s nice and comforting, just like the touch of someone you love.

*************

You wiggle in the chair and rub your eyes, refreshed after the well-deserved snooze: hopefully you didn’t waste too much time from your last day on earth. Your gaze wanders off around the terrace and you suddenly freeze: there’s someone leaning over the railing, watching the city from the 30th floor.

You rise from your spot and hesitantly walk towards the person, gasping when you notice the familiar fur coat.

“There she is,” The Joker turns around to greet you, smirking when you cover your mouth in disbelief. “Told you I’ll be here.”

You can’t make a single sound and he opens his arms, waiting for you to run to him.

“You didn’t miss me?” he laughs at your baffled reaction, bundling the coat around Y/N as soon as she finds herself in his embrace.

“I did miss you; I missed you so much,” you inhale his scent and the smell of your favorite cologne confirms he’s truly there. You hug him so tight he would normally complain, but there’s no bickering coming out of The Joker. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you smile and he kisses your lips, whispering:

“You have me wrapped around your finger. Where else am I supposed to be?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

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