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myheroacademiaspiderverse · 17 days

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Issue 4: The Spider Meets The Prowler

-Begin Arc 2: The Lab Of Monsters-

-Meanwhile, Over At Aldera Junior High-

On a rooftop overlooking the small and unassuming middle school, a long figure perched.

The figure was vaguely feminine based on her body shape, but that was about the only clue you could get to her identity. The costume she wore was a simple dark purple and dark green bodysuit, with light armor on her chest, arms and legs. The mask she wore was purple and black, but with green lenses. The green parts of her costume gave off a slight glow, like a low-powered glowstick. She also wore gauntlets that had claws, and also contained wrist-mounted guns and grappling hooks. Around her waist was a utility belt that held several tools, ranging from remote activated shock mines to several knockout gas grenades.

This was the enigmatic and mostly unseen vigilante known as the Prowler, a figure known for breaking into high profile places (corrupt businesses, houses of dirty politicians, et cetera) to steal the information necessary to bring them to justice...

...and also for her daring and borderline suicidal one-woman crusade against the Hellfire Dragons, a Yakuza group that the other Pro Heroes, even All Might himself, hadn't been able to completely take down. A group that had roughly one hundred members together in one large mansion on the outskirts of Musutafu.

She took them down in one night.

And the Hellfire Dragons, the ones who weren't catatonic from sheer terror, gave her a new nickname from this experience.

The Amethyst Angel.

But shortly after that escapade, roughly a year ago, she seemed to disappear off the face of the Earth. Some wondered if she had been wounded, others wondered if she'd later died of wounds she might've received, and even more wondered if she had been captured by villains who wished her harm.

The truth wasn't anything so spectacular.

The truth was, one year ago was when Kaina Tsutsumi got her position as Class 1-A's Homeroom teacher.

And she wanted to focus more of her efforts on teaching and helping the next generation of Heroes achieve their true potential, rather than her nightly activities on bringing the corrupt and hidden evils of society to justice.

So she put away her Prowler costume and gear and put them in a lead-lined case and stashed it under the bed she shared with her girlfriend. There it stayed undisturbed...

...until tonight, when she and Nezu decided that they wanted a specific question answered.

"What the hell are you hiding, Aldera Junior High," she asked aloud, her voice modulator hiding her true voice.

Deciding to get on with it, she fired a grappling hook and zipped away towards the roof of the school.

It was time to get this job started...

-Three Days Later-

It was times like this that Izuku was thankful that he lived in his apartment by himself.

Because right now on this Saturday, the whole wall of his room was covered in pictures held up by push-pins, all connected by red string. This was him attempting to figure out his current case, even if it did look like the wall of some crazy conspiracy theorist.

Once he had DECA linked up to the other Hero Network Towers, he'd immediately set her on finding any more missing persons reports that happened in the areas the van was sighted.

He wasn't disappointed. Though in all honesty, he was very, VERY concerned.

For the past eight years, roughly 44 teenagers between the ages of 13-15 had gone missing, seemingly without a trace. No signs of a struggle, no items left behind, nothing evidence that would suggest any sort of foul play.

Though as he looked over the police reports, he found two big reasons why the police officers hadn't investigated too hard.

Of the 44 missing teenagers, 12 of them had either been living in the Eisley District or had gone missing in the Eisley District. Considering how the police precincts there were stretched as thin as a piece of paper, they likely couldn't spare too many to investigate.

That was assuming, of course, that they weren't in on it.

But what puzzled him the most were the remaining 32 teens who had gone missing. Mainly because even though they hadn't disappeared from the Eisley District, the police still hadn't investigated these for more than a week. Which struck him as odd, since you'd think the parents and families of these teens would be concerned. Along with that some of the districts these kidnappings took place in, including the Coruscant District of all places, had much stronger police presences and even Pro Hero Agencies in the area.

So why the hell was nobody investigating this?

Well as he looked into the teenagers who got kidnapped, he found out a few connecting threads between those 32. And the first one would definitely explain the lackluster efforts from the police.

First Thread: All of the 32 teens that had disappeared/been abducted outside of the Eisley District had been taken shortly after being expelled from their high school.

Which wasn't surprising to him. Expulsions in Japan weren't anything to scoff at. He'd seen plenty of articles and stories of how students getting expelled from school, hero school or otherwise, would often end up as vigilantes or villains because no one would let them enroll in other schools or hire them for jobs. In some scenarios, their own families would throw them out of the house.

And in the worst case scenarios he's heard plenty of horror stories where those former students, feeling like they had nothing left to live for, would end their own lives.

So yeah, not a pretty scenario.

And it would make sense as to why the police wouldn't investigate too hard on these disappearances. As far as they would be concerned, those ex-students probably just ran off to either become villains, vigilantes, or probably killing themselves in some fashion. Assuming of course they didn't just hop on a plane or a ship or something and hightailed it to another country, usually the United States, to try and start their lives over.

Fortunately he wasn't the cops, so he wasn't going to just drop this.

As for the second thread?

Second Thread: The high school the 32 were expelled from was UA High School, and each of them at the time had been in Class 1-A.

That definitely narrowed it down, and it made a lot of sense to Izuku and DECA. UA was the top hero school in Japan, and the Hero Course there was known for training some of the greatest of all time. Hell, most if not all of the current Top 50 were all UA Alumni. And while he knew better than to believe that all it took to be a Hero was a powerful or unique Quirk, he wouldn't lie that it would definitely help.

And that would definitely put a big target on the student's backs for Quirk Traffickers, who might see those unique/powerful Quirks in action and want them for their own reasons.

The only thing that didn't make sense was that A) out of these 32 UA teens, only about half of them had Quirks that would be considered powerful or unique; and B) these expulsions and subsequent kidnappings all occurred before the UA Sports Festival, which was often the first time the people of Japan, good or bad, would see these Quirks in action. So, how did these teens end up on some bad guy's radar when they were relatively unknown?

Though on second thought, he admitted that actually made a lot of sense. After all if they made a good first impression on Japan in the Sports Festival, to the point that people would be invested in their journey to becoming a Pro Hero, then if they suddenly disappear then they'll be more inclined to keep looking. Taking them before their debut would mean they'd still be unknown.

That might've been the end of it, except as he and DECA perused through the reports and student files, he found two other threads that connected the 32 UA teens.

Third Thread: The 32 were in their respective year's Class 1-A when it was being taught by Shota Aizawa.

It was true. Each of the 32 students that had been expelled from UA had been in Shota Aizawa's Homeroom Class 1-A. Which tied into fourth thread...

Fourth Thread: The kidnappings of the 32 UA students began shortly after Aizawa began teaching at UA.

He'd found the expulsion dates and he and DECA had linked them to the years he'd been teaching, and to the missing persons reports.

1st year: 2 expelled. Both went missing.

2nd year: 6 expelled. 4 went missing.

3rd year: 10 expelled. 5 went missing.

4th year: 12 expelled. 8 went missing.

5th year: 10 expelled. 6 went missing.

6th and final year: 20 expelled. 7 went missing. [1]

Izuku honestly couldn't wonder how he kept his job for so long. If I'd been the principal of that school, I'd have shoved a pink slip down his throat after the first expulsion, he mused in his head. Seriously, his reasoning was that these students "lacked potential for heroics." What the flying fuck do you know about potential, you hobo-looking motherfu-

At that moment his flaming train of thought was interrupted by DECA beeping and saying "Hey, I get that it's only a half day today, but that still doesn't give you an excuse to be late."

Looking at the time and realizing she was right, Izuku pushed a button on his phone and the wall his notes were on slid back a bit, before a false wall slid down out of the ceiling and locked into place. Once it was done, it looked indistinguishable from the rest of the room, even having some posters and a calendar on it. "There," he said happily while grabbing his backpack, making sure his suit was inside in the secret pocket. "Now if anyone does break in here, they won't see much."

"So," DECA asked as Izuku left the apartment, "given all of the data we've gathered for this case-"

"You make it sound like I'm some detective," Izuku joked.

"You pretty much are at this point," she replied. "But back on topic: given all of that data, the most logical conclusion is that whoever these Quirk Traffickers are, Aizawa was involved in some way. Either he was part of it before he became a teacher, or shortly after."

"I'm 99.9% sure it was before. None of the kidnappings for the expelled students happened until AFTER he became a teacher," he answered. "Though in that case, I have to wonder what the hell kind of screening process they have for the teachers."

"Considering they overhauled all of their screenings and their standards after they fired him, I'm guessing they were pretty poor." She hummed before saying "That being said, he's probably going to be our best lead to finding Himiko Toga and all the others who went missing."

"And all the others that never got reported, because you know as well as I do there's bound to be a few of them," he stated, just before he reached the train stop. "Since he's our best lead, we'll need to know everything we can about him. Do a deep dive on Aizawa."

"You wanna know what hospital he was born in," DECA asked, half-jokingly. She knew full well when Izuku was being serious.

"Deeper. I wanna know the name of the doctor that pulled him out of his mother's womb."

There was a groan from DECA, and she replied "As long as I don't have to see the process, you got it."

As the train pulled into the station and people began embarking/disembarking, Izuku chuckled before saying "In the meantime, can you see if he's got an address or a place he hangs out a lot? If we can find him-"

"-you'll tail him and either find where those teens are or beat the answer out of him. Yes, I can."

"Thank you," Izuku replied, before putting his phone away and getting on the train.

---

Nezu's eyebrows both raised up high as he looked at the information on his computer screen. "Well, that's infinitely concerning."

Over the last few days, Prowler had investigated not only Aldera Junior High, but also some of the staff and some of the members of the school board.

Her investigations had revealed quite a lot of disturbing things: incredibly Quirkist teaching material, letting students use their Quirks without consequence, the rampant bullying against those they dubbed "useless to society." AKA anyone with a weak or "villainous" Quirk, or those who were Quirkless. And let's not forget the absolute lack of Quirk Counseling for these students... How that school hadn't been investigated by the Ministry of Education was beyond Nezu's comprehension.

But the big one that Prowler had discovered last night, the one that definitely made his eyebrows raise, was what she had found in a hidden room within the Principal's House.

Hidden behind a false wall had been a small room filled with a bunch of posters, banners, and newspaper clippings.

All of it linked to one group in particular.

And the lynchpin of it all, on a pedestal in the middle of the small room, was a book.

One that had been banned for many, many decades.

The Meta Manifesto.

What was basically the equivalent to the Holy Bible for the infamous group known as the Meta Liberation Army.

The group that had become as infamous in Japan's history books as the Nazi's had become in Germany's. A group that believed in genetic superiority, primarily based around Quirks, and tried to enforce a caste system where one's Quirk determined their status and place in life.

And when they couldn't gain ground against the newly formed HPSC in the political field, they moved towards domestic terrorism.

Naturally they didn't make a lot of friends, and there was a lot of fighting spread over several years between them and the HPSC for supremacy in Japan. One where the HPSC came out on top, for better or worse. All of the major members of the MLA were captured and put in Tartarus; and all of the propaganda were found and confiscated, with all copies of The Meta Manifesto were incinerated and the book itself banned.

Kaina nodded at Nezu's reaction and said "Yeah, I wasn't too happy to see this either."

Nezu sighed. "Well, I can't exactly say I'm surprised. No matter how hard you try, you can never kill an idea."

"Yeah well, this was one idea that should've been burned in the fires of Hell," she grumbled, a clear edge to her voice.

Nezu didn't comment on her obvious display of anger, already having a good idea as to the reason why. "Well either way, all of the information you've gathered should be enough for the police to start an investigation into the Aldera School District."

"Good," she replied. "Sooner that place gets shut down, the better I'll feel."

"Indeed. I'll call in Tsukauchi for a meeting after school today." He then looked at her in concern and asked "Are you going to be okay?"

After a brief pause, she took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I understand that this is-"

He stopped as she held up her hand. "Nezu, this is something I've been dealing with since I was the same age as my students. Arguably before that, considering..." She shook her head and finished "I'll be fine before my class starts."

While Nezu looked unconvinced, he eventually relented, though he did say "If you need to take a few minutes today and speak to Hound Dog, you can."

"Appreciated." Rising to her feet and walking to the door, she said "You should get that information to Tsukauchi ASAP. If the staff of the Aldera School District is part of some MLA revival movement, there's no telling how many others there might be."

She walked out before he could reply in the affirmative, before taking a turn down into a hallway that was void of any of the students or staff.

Leaving her perfectly alone with her thoughts, for better or worse.

Almost immediately she could hear the familiar voices, from memories that she wished that she never had.

"But Dad-"

SLAP!

"Let that be a reminder; disobedience will not be tolerated in this Army. Now, execute her, or else-"

She was mercifully jolted out of her memories when she heard her phone's ringtone.

Specifically, the ringtone she set for her girlfriend: Loser, Baby from Hazbin Hotel.

AKA, the song they sung at karaoke on their first date three and a half years ago.

Just hearing it was enough to make her smile, especially the memory of Fuyumi's face turning the same shade of scarlet as a tomato when she sang Angel Dust's parts of the song. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to burst out laughing at that.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled her phone out and answered it "Yes, Snow Angel?"

There was a giggle on the other end, and Kaina could just imagine her rolling her eyes and smiling. "Hey, Kaina." Her voice then turned to one of concern and she asked "Is there something bothering you?"

Confused, she asked "What do you mean?"

"Kaina, you and I have been living together for going on four years now. I know your tells. Last night after your little late night outing, you came home and gave me a lackluster 'Hey' and didn't even give me a kiss. You then proceeded to go straight for the shower, and stayed in there for way longer than your usual time."

"It wasn't that long."

"You were in there for a whopping ten minutes- BTW, you're covering the water bill this month- compared to your usual 3 minutes. 5 if you had a very intense training session or got covered in grease from working on your motorcycle. And I saw you walking to the shower and there wasn't a speck of grease on you."

"Wow. Yeesh, with eyes like that you'd make a helluva sniper-"

"Don't try to change the subject on me, Riza Hawkeye. It's not working. Especially since you then went straight to bed, without even getting a nibble of dinner. You never do that, especially when I make curry. AKA, your favorite."

Kaina's eyes widened at that. "Oh, shit. Are there any leftovers?"

There was a scoff from the other end. "Yes, Kaina. You don't really think I'd eat all of it, do you? But back on subject..." She sighed and said "Look, I'm not gonna push. But if something's bothering you-"

"There is," she admitted, cutting her off. "I... Let's just say I found some stuff out in my night job that's bringing up some bad memories."

"From your time in Tartarus?"

"Really bad memories."

"From your time as the HPSC's personal assassin?"

"Really REALLY BAD memories."

"You mean- OH! Okay, that explains so much."

"Yeah." She winced. "I'm sorry for making you worry like that. I-"

"Hey, I get it. Less that stellar childhood, abusive jackass of a father. Been there, done that."

Kaina couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, I know. Look, I'll tell you what's going on tonight-"

"Okay. Does that mean you're taking the night off?"

"Sorry, not tonight. Trust me, when I explain it tonight, you'll understand."

"Alright. Well, I gotta get to my class before they tear the room apart."

"Yeah, I don't envy you," she replied with a laugh. "From what you told me those primary schoolers are ruthless."

"Eh, from what you tell me a few of your students aren't much easier. See you tonight. Love you."

"Love you too."

The call ended, and Kaina couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Fuyumi," she said softly. "For being the most amazing person in my life."

"So, when are you gonna propose to her?"

It was only due to her years of training that she didn't immediately jump out of her skin.

It was also due to her recognizing that voice that she didn't immediately grab a hold of the speaker and pin them to the ground.

So instead she turned and smirked, seeing the familiar sultry smirk of Nemuri Kayama, AKA the R-Rated Heroine, Midnight. She was the Modern Arts teacher, as well as Class 1-C's Homeroom teacher.

She was also the first staff member to welcome her to UA with open arms (after Nezu, of course) and helped her find her footing as a teacher, so that earned her Kaina's friendship, and the right to make relationship jabs at her.

Laughing, she replied "I don't know. Probably when some villain gets lucky and finally carves open Endeavor's chest and rips out the burnt up piece of charcoal he calls a heart."

"We'd never get that lucky," Midnight deadpanned. "Besides, if any of the rumors were true he'd just resurrect as a full-blooded demon."

They both burst out laughing at that for several minutes, before pulling themselves together and heading down the hallway towards their respective classrooms while making idle chatter.

And watching this interaction through the security cameras was Nezu, who couldn't help but smile a little at this. I guess I had nothing to worry about after all, he mused.

---

Bakugo growled as he walked into homeroom that day, already seeing the students who were there shooting dirty looks at him. Fucking extras need to buzz the hell off.

It had started ever since they ran into Deku at the Support Course Lab. As if getting sent to the Rat-Principal's Office wasn't bad enough, he got an earful the whole way from All Might.

ALL MIGHT! Of all people! Thought he was a bully for trying to put Deku in his place.

While that wasn't enough to shatter the pedestal he put the Number 1 Pro Hero on, it was enough to inflict a significant crack upon it.

But then, of course, Bitch-sensei- which was in his opinion the only name she deserved because all she did was bitch at him- proceeded to tell the Rat-Principal her version of what happened.

Which in his opinion was anything but the truth.

Bitch-Sensei said he grabbed a hold of Deku and started verbally assaulting him.

No, he never assaulted him. Assaulting someone meant punching, kicking, or using some part of your body to inflict pain. Last he checked you couldn't hurt someone with words. Unless they were totally pansy-asses, which would probably count Deku. But still...

Bitch-Sensei then said that he threatened to use his Quirk on Deku, even popping a few explosions in his palm.

Okay, so fucking what? Quirks were meant to be used, just as much as your eyes, ears, mouth, or any one of the many muscles or limbs you had. That's what the teachers at that shitty Junior High school he went to taught them.

Bitch-Sensei then said, and he honestly couldn't believe this one, that he called Deku a 'Quirkist Slur."

Which in his opinion was complete and utter bullshit. How exactly could he be calling Deku a "Quirkist Slur" when the fucking nobody was QUIRKLESS?! What the hell kinda sense does that make?

Then came all the bullshit with the Rat-Principal. How the hell was he bullying Deku? If he had really been bullying Deku for ten freaking years, wouldn't the teachers at that shithole tell him to knock it the hell off?

Admittedly he had known that they were planning on mooching off of his future success, but they were mistaken if they thought he'd let them be anything more than a stepping stone in his origin story. It's why he chose that shitty no-name Junior High School despite his parents offering to send him to somewhere more renown and with a far more challenging curriculum.

Coming from an obscure and low-class Junior High and then rising to greatness through UA to become the next Number 1 Pro Hero?

That was the origin story stuff of legends!

But then... Deku had to come and ruin it all by attending UA. Even if he wasn't in the Hero Course, a small blessing in and of itself, he was still here! IN UA! His mere presence corrupted his vision of this once immaculate and great school. The fact that a Quirkless freak like him was even allowed to breath the same air as them was the same thing he would classify as Deku being allowed to continue existing: a crime against nature and a sign that Darwin's Theory of Evolution worked too fucking slow!

That wasn't even going into the fact that his parents grounded him for all of the shit he did to Deku for the past 10 years, and once again did that stupid thing where they said Deku was part of their family. Ignoring of course that he wasn't, since they weren't blood related to the Midoriyas in any way, shape or form! God, every time they said that stupid shit, it just made his blood boil! WHO THE FUCK WOULD EVEN WANT A QUIRKLESS FREAK LIKE THAT IN THEIR FAMILY!?

And then there was the fucking therapy visits. Ignoring how much he hated therapy -seriously if you really needed to sit down in an office and talk about how you're feeling you should just throw yourself in the fucking loony bin- he was now forced to sit in a chair for what felt like a small eternity being force fed the garbage psycho-babble of how his anger was out of control, and how he needs to think about how other people could be affected by his actions, and how heroes were meant to protect people and keep them safe and BLAH BLAH MOTHERFUCKING BLAH!

First off, his anger wasn't out of control! He lived his life like he always did; never holding himself back in any way, and unleashing himself in full force. Trying to get him to put a lid on his anger was going to take away his edge, which would make him weak!

Second, he didn't give a single solitary FUCK! about what people thought about him or how they were affected by his actions. He was going to be the next Number 1 Pro Hero, regardless of whatever the fucking naysayers said. And if his climb to the top was littered with the broken bodies of the fucking extras who tried to get in his way, so be it!

And lastly, all the bullshit about heroes protecting people and keeping them safe. Nobody ever remembered All Might, Endeavor, or any of the Top 10 for saving the lives of the mindless sheep that made up the majority of the population of Musutafu. They remembered them for the epic fights against strong villains and for the biblical beatdowns they gave. Any of the worthless sheep they saved was just "meh" icing on a subpar cake.

Seriously, if those useless extras can't offer anything useful or good for the greats/future greats like him, then what good were they?

But perhaps the most aggravating/confusing part, was that ever since that day the other extras in Class 1-A looked at him with looks of disgust and anger.

And to amplify the confusion, he had seen some of them (especially Round Face) hanging out with Deku at lunch. Even calling that loser their friend.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?! QUIRKLESS PEOPLE WEREN'T MEANT TO HAVE FRIENDS! THEY WERE BARELY EVEN MEANT TO BE TREATED AS PEOPLE!

The door opened and Bitch-Sensei walked in, jarring him out of his mental raging tirade. Just keep it together, King Explosion Murder. Once the Sports Festival happens and you show all of Japan who you are, the Extras will learn where they belong.

Down in the dirt with fucking Deku!

-Later that day-

Once school was let out Izuku and Ochako walked to the station together, where he gave a quick rundown of what he'd found so far.

Needless to say, she was shocked and very concerned. "Yeesh. I heard some of the other teachers making comments about this guy, but I didn't figure he was THAT bad," she stated.

"Probably because if they told all of you the truth, many of you would be packing up and looking for other schools," Izuku replied.

Ochako pondered that for a moment, before shrugging. "Maybe." She then looked at him and asked "So, this Aizawa guy might be behind Himiko's kidnapping?"

Izuku sighed. "I don't have any definitive proof of that. But given how 32 of the students he expelled ended up going missing, and our mystery black van was seen near almost all of their addresses, I think it's pretty likely. Even if he's not, he's involved in some way and he's my best lead."

DECA chimed in and said "Well I've looked through his personal files, and even though I can't prove anything, I'm fairly certain he's our guy."

Both Izuku and Ochako looked at each other before ducking away into a nearby alleyway that was empty. Once they were away from the sidewalks Izuku said "Okay DECA, spill."

"Well, Aizawa's story ain't a happy one. His parents died in a villain attack when he was five, and he was bounced around between foster homes. And yeesh, all of his foster homes were terrible. He was abused verbally, physically, and s-I'm not even going to speak about that one."

The both of them cringed, already guessing what she was meaning. "Okay, so he had a shitty childhood," Izuku summarized. "Keep going."

"Once he got into UA things weren't much easier. Keep in mind this was back when Quirks like his were mocked and/or scorned. And frankly, when he failed the Entrance Exam, he went on a tirade to the staff there, saying how it was rigged in favor of people who had flashy and or powerful Quirks, all to quote 'perfectly fit in with society's bias.'"

"Uh, not true," Ochako spat. "Sure, Quirks like that are great for destroying robots. But my Quirk just makes things float when I touch them. And I got classmates who's Quirks aren't powerful or destructive. Ojiro's Quirk is literally just a tail, and Hagakure is just invisible. Hell even fucking Mineta, the sexual harassment suit waiting to happen, managed to pass the Entrance Exam and get into 1-A. And his Quirk is positively pathetic!" [2]

"Yeah, the administration immediately pointed out to him that the robots had off switches that he could have found and used to disable them. They also pointed out that during the entire exam he didn't try to rescue or save his fellow examinees, which would've earned him Rescue Points. His response," she scoffed. "Get this, his response was 'if they really needed another hero to come save them, then they obviously don't have the potential to be a hero and they should just give up.' What a prick. The administration wasn't very happy with him, so they said he should just be thankful that they were letting him into the General Studies course, and that he should really work on his attitude or else he'd never get a chance to transfer in with the Sports Festival. He still somehow made it about his Quirk, and had to be escorted out by security."

Izuku digested that, before saying "So, he's clearly got a thing against people with Quirks that he deems strong or flashy. That does fit with most of the students he expelled. But what about the other people who got kidnapped? Himiko's Quirk is a subtle transformation Quirk, and a few of the others just had minor Healing or sensory Quirks."

"That I can't help you with. What I can say is that I poked around and found his last known address," DECA said proudly. "And it's why I think he might be our guy. Because as it just so happens, not only does he live on the edge of the Eisley District, but his apartment happens to be right next to an abandoned auto shop."

He nodded. "Perfect place to hide a creepy kidnapping van," he stated.

Ochako smiled at that, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "I take it that-"

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p.' "Our mutual friend is going to swing over tonight and have a nice little chat with that sorry excuse for a teacher."

-Meanwhile, inside UA-

"Why exactly do you want me to go snooping around Aizawa's apartment?"

Kaina had just been about to leave for the day, to travel to the little secret safehouse and grab her Prowler suit and continue looking into the Aldera School District, when Nezu had called her into his office to discuss something.

When she closed the door, Nezu activated his handheld signal jammer to make sure nobody could listen in on what he was about to say, before asking her to investigate Shota Aizawa's apartment.

To her shock, Nezu's face morphed into one of shame and slight anger at her question. "Because I believe I may have made a terrible mistake." Seeing her confused expression, he continued "One of my contacts in the vigilante underground told me that someone was asking questions about Aizawa on one of the Vigilante Forums; Shadow Justice. When they were asked why, they revealed... THIS."

He turned his computer monitor around, and Kaina looked over the information...

...and if it were possible, her jaw would've dropped through to the floor, and then right through it all the way down into UA's basement.

"All of these students... the ones he expelled... Oh my god," she stammered out, finding it hard to form whole sentences. Once she regained her composure, she incredulously asked "How in the flying fuck did we not see this? How the fuck did you, one of the smartest beings in existence, not see this?!"

Nezu sighed. "Just because I have a hyper-intelligence Quirk doesn't mean I know or see everything. There are things even I don't know, and I can still be blindsided by things I'm not completely aware of."

"Fair point," Kaina conceded. "You really think Ass-zawa's involved in this?"

"All the evidence that this GreenSpider has shown points in his direction. While I doubt he's the man in charge, I believe at the very least there's an 86% chance of him being involved."

"And he's probably our best chance at finding those missing kids," she finished. "Alright, I'll check and see what I can find."

As she turned to leave, Nezu added "Oh, and by the way, have you heard the rumors about this new vigilante?"

"Spider-Man," she asked. "Yeah. And I'm willing to bet that he and GreenSpider are the same guy."

Nezu gave a small smile at that. "Well, given how he was asking about it, don't be surprised if he shows up at Aizawa's apartment."

She chuckled at that. "I'll go easy on him."

-Aizawa's Apartment, Later That Night-

From his perch on top of a nearby building, Spider-Man surveyed the apartment building that Aizawa lived in. It was seriously a dump; with garbage pretty much surrounding it, broken windows barely covered by wooden boards, and just a general sign that nobody cared about this place. Just like the person who lives here, he mentally mused.

Activating his Advanced Recon Mode, he scanned over the building to see if there was anyone inside or near Aizawa's apartment. "Yeesh. I can see why rent is dirt cheap. There's barely anyone living here."

"Yeah, that might be because the landlord has repeatedly gotten complaints for faulty wiring, fire hazards, the broken windows," DECA said, continuing listing off reasons for a few seconds before she said "I've looked through the camera's in the area. So far, Aizawa hasn't been home since yesterday."

"So we're in the clear for a little investigat-"

At that moment, an alert popped up on his visor. "Silent alarm triggered at a jewelry store down the block," DECA stated, though Spider-Man was already swinging towards it.

"Any hostages?"

"Place closes down at six, so no one's there except the six guys breaking and entering."

He web-zipped to a nearby streetlamp and said "Well, let's see what we're working with."

He didn't have to wait long, as three men came walking out of the building carrying their ill-begotten treasure.

And Spider-Man happened to know all three of them.

The first man was a giant similar to Stone, but the difference was that he clearly had a Mutant Rhino Quirk; mottled gray skin, a rhino head complete with the ears and two horns along his snout, and his beefy muscular legs ended in rhino feet. The only thing that wasn't gray or rhino-like was his black eyes and his dark orange hair, and his black leather jacket and his ripped up blue jeans.

The second man was a mostly human looking guy with hair the color of sand, and his yellow eyes looked like they were made of glass. He was dressed in brown pants and a green stripped sweater. Holstered in his belt were several metal canisters that Spider-Man knew were filled with sand, that the man could use his Quirk to control.

The last man was rather lean, wearing nothing but a sleeveless muscle shirt that showed off scorpion tattoos on each arm. As if that weren't enough of a clue, jutting from out of his back was a large sickly green scorpion tail, with the stinger just dripping with dark green venom. He wore a baseball cap that hid his hair, though Spider-Man had seen it enough times to know it was short cut and sickly yellow, which almost matched his eyes.

They were, in order: Grey Sai, Sabaku, and Dokusei Sasori.[3]

And how did he know this?

Because while they were mostly just a bunch of thieves and robbers, they got elevated to C-Rank Villains after they're last bank robbery ended up with three people hurt, one of whom being a rookie Pro Hero. Fortunately the two civilians weren't seriously injured, though the hero had been stung by Sasori's scorpion tail had to be taken to the ER to get treated for the venom and was on medical leave for several weeks.

As he was about to swing down there and dispense some vigilante justice, he noticed a flash of purple and green out of the corner of his eye. He looked down...

...and his eyes widened as he saw the purple and green vigilante looking at him from the entrance to an alleyway. She looked up at him and started making hand gestures that he recognized as JSL (Japanese Sign Language) I'll handle Sandy and Stinger. Think you can handle the Big Guy?

Smirking under his mask, he signed back Yeah I can handle this. BTW, big fan. But what are you doing here?

Saw your posts on the Shadow Justice forum. Figured you could use a hand from an old veteran.

Awesome! Glad to have you on board.

Thanks. But let's take care of these jackasses before they get away.

Nodding, he loaded up an Impact Web on each Web Shooter and signed Count backwards from three, then move in.

Once she nodded, Spider-Man launched himself off the streetlamp and above their getaway car. Once he was above it he took aim at the sides of the car and fired the Impact Webs, plastering the doors shut. He then landed on the car and faced the three of them. "Evening gentlemen," he said.

Sasori gave a sinister smile when he saw him. "Well well well, if it isn't the Spider-Man."

"Huh. My reputation precedes me."

Sai walked forward, cracking his large knuckles. "Yeah. You've been a major pain in the ass to some of our associates."

"Enough that we're sure our boss will give us a big payday for bringing you in," Sasori added, his tail twitching in excitement.

That definitely piqued his interest. "Your Boss wouldn't have happened to have been the guy to order the Fixers to try and squash me, would he?"

"That's on a need-to-know basis, Wallcrawler," he replied. "And you don't need to know, you just need to die. Sabaku?"

Sabaku sighed as he reached for his belt and picked out a canister of sand. "Nothing personal, pal. It's just-Huh?"

His exclamation came from his wrist being grabbed and painfully twisted, forcing him to job the canister. "OW! What the f-"

He and his two compatriots turned, only to see nothing there. Until the air started shimmering and Prowler appeared. "Hello, boys," she said happily.

Unlike their reaction to Spider-Man, the three of them reacted with shock and horror to the appearance of the Prowler. "SHIT," Sasori shrieked before lunging with his tail and trying to sting her, only for a web-line to stick to his tail and hold it back.

Smirking, Spider-Man quipped "Keep your tail to yourself, man."

Before he could say or do anything else, Sai rushed forward and threw a haymaker at Spider-Man. Dropping the web-line, he dodged and jumped over the massive arm. As he was in mid-air he flipped around and threw a punch at the rhinoceros man's face, which barely seemed to phase the large man.

As he was doing this, Prowler fired a blast of green energy from her wrist gun into Sabaku, arcs of that energy coursing through him until he went limp and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Looking at Sasori, she asked "You wanna surrender, or you wanna test your luck?"

Growling, Sasori pulled out two knives and settled into a combat stance, his tail hovering over his head menacingly. "I'm gonna enjoy killing you, Prowler."

Back with Spider-Man, he dodged a vending machine that had been thrown at him by Sai, landing on the street just as the villain started charging at him. Deciding not to waste anymore time dragging this fight out, he charged up and threw a Venom Punch, nailing the man in the face and sending him flying and crashing into their getaway car. A quick scan of the man showed that he was out cold, but he'd live. "Gotta wonder if they'll send you to Tartarus or the zoo," he said.

Prowler grunted as she pushed back Sasori's knives, blocking them with her armored gauntlets. He laughed and said "If this is all you have, Prowler, then maybe you should've stayed-URK!"

The rest of his sentence was cut of as Spider-Man pulled him back with his webs before kicking him back towards Prowler, who spun around and nailed Sasori with a clothesline, knocking him to the ground. Before he could get back up, she blasted him with her wrist-gun, knocking him completely out.

With the fight done, they looked at each other and Spider-Man asked "So, you wanna let the cops know, or should I?"

---

Once they called the cops and watched from the shadows as they took the three into custody (with Prowler taking note of Spidey leaving his little calling card) the two of them compared notes before sneaking into Aizawa's apartment. Once they made sure there were no unpleasant surprises, Prowler used a piece of metal to flip open the window latch so they could get in.

Once they slipped in, Spider-Man nearly gagged. "Ugh, this place is disgusting."

He wasn't wrong, Prowler admitted. Dirty clothes were strewn everywhere, his trashcan was overflowing with old takeout containers, and the ones that couldn't fit were stacked up at least a foot high on the counter. All of that together made for a terrible stench that just permeated the entire apartment.

"So glad I got a nose filter in my mask," she muttered, unaware of Spider-Man looking at her with a hint of jealousy.

"Note to self, remember to add that to my next mask," he grumbled, before putting a finger to the side of his mask. "Time to test out my Forensics Mode."

Prowler turned around to ask, but then saw that the lenses of his mask had turned blue, casting light on the ground wherever he looked. "Blacklight," she asked.

He nodded. "And a whole lotta next gen scanning tech. Combine that with the database I got installed in this thing and I'm basically a walking CSI team."

Not that it showed through her mask, but one of her eyebrows were raised at that declaration. "You say that like you built it yourself."

"Because I did," he said, looking at Aizawa's lumpy and unmade bed. "Why do you ask?"

Prowler shrugged, deciding to look through the large stack of mail on Aizawa's counter that looked like it hadn't been touched in months. "Curiosity. It's not everyday I see a teenage vigilante with that level of tech."

"What makes you so sure I'm a teenager," he asked, looking at some odd marks on the floor near the wall next to Aizawa's bed.

"Aside from your height and your body's size and type? Your voice modulator was a good idea, but I can still tell when your voice cracks. Don't feel bad about it though. Puberty's a bitch."

He sighed. "I'm just thankful I haven't gotten any humongous zits. And as for my tech-" he continued as he followed the marks on the floor "-that's my business."

"Fair enough," she replied, looking at the latest envelope addressed to Aizawa. "Yeesh, guy's really behind on his rent. This is his final notice. If he doesn't cough up his rent money he's out on the streets."

"Well from what I've heard he already dresses like a hobo, so he'll fit right in," Spider-Man said, running his hands over the paneling on the wall.

Confused, Prowler asked "What exactly are you looking for?"

Continuing his search, Spider-Man pointed at the ground replied "Well, there's scratch marks on the floor next to his bed. They lead right to this wall and just disappear."

Kneeling down and running her hand over the ground where he pointed, she found that he was right. There were two parallel scratches in the faded hardwood flooring. "Okay. But couldn't that just mean he had a nightstand or something here?"

"I thought so too, until I noticed there weren't any marks on the paneling here. Plus, listen to this."

He knocked three times on the panel next to the scratches, and all she heard was the sound of knocking on wood. "Okay, so?"

"Now listen to this one."

He rapped three times on the panel above the scratches, and instead of hearing the sound of knocking on wood she was treated to the sound of knocking on a sheet of- "Metal," she asked.

Spider-Man nodded. "Metal. This panel was replaced, and I'm willing to bet it's hiding something that the former Hobo-Sensei of Class 1-A doesn't want people to see." Turning back to it, his lenses started cycling through colors to indicate the different vision modes. "Only thing is, we need to figure out the trick to popping it open."

"I got a plasma cutter in my gauntlet it-"

"No! Bad idea." He turned to her and she saw that his lenses were now mostly black save for two small pinpricks of white in the center. "I just X-Rayed this thing. While the inner contents are lead lined, I can still see just behind the panel. He rigged it."

That definitely got her attention, so she activated her mask's own X-Ray vision and took a look. "Sonuvabitch. Good catch. That's a thermite charge," she noted, giving Spider-Man a look. "If I tried to cut through that, this whole apartment would go up and us with it."

"Not to mention it could also hurt the other people in the building," Spider-Man noted before looking above the panel and to the ceiling, seeming to follow some sort of invisible line. "But I think I figured out the trick."

Following where he was looking, she saw what appeared to be a power cable that lead from the panel over to the breaker box on the far wall. Seeing Spider-Man open it, she asked "What are you gonna do? Flip switches and hope it'll open it?"

She heard Spider-Man chuckle. "Nah." He held up his hand as red sparks started gathering around it. "This is faster."

Before she could comment he placed his palm on the breaker box, his bioelectric Venom Blast coursing through it. The lights on it started going crazy, before there was a loud CLICK! and the panel came out of the wall, revealing that it was the face of a hidden drawer.

Walking back, Spider-Man laughed and said "No, please! Hold your applause."

She rolled her eyes, but gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Not bad, Spider-Man." Looking down at the drawer, she said "So, let's see what Ass-zawa's hiding."

Spider-Man couldn't help but laugh at that. "Ass-zawa. That's priceless. I'm using that if and when he go to take him in."

As they both started going through the the drawer, they immediately felt a bit of rage building up in their hearts.

The biggest majority of the contents were pictures of the teens who had been kidnapped. That wasn't surprising. But what was were the files. Specifically, they were medical files; one for every kidnapped person. Along with that were handwritten notes and what looked like they're personal schedules, all of which Prowler noted was in Aizawa's handwriting based off of a note she found on his fridge.

Spider-Man growled. "Okay, I didn't like this guy before. But now? This guy better pray that you get to him first, because if I do he'll have a hard time eating prison slop without any teeth."

"Trust me, you're gonna want to get him first," Prowler growled in response. "Especially if I find that he- Huh?"

She held up a small faded photograph, an old Polaroid. It showed what looked like a younger Aizawa, roughly 15 years old, with a boy his age with blue hair.

Seeing the photo, Spider-Man pointed at the other boy and asked "Who's that? He kinda looks familiar."

Prowler sighed sadly. "Oboro Shirakumo. He was a UA student a long time ago. He got killed during a villain attack during his 2nd year internships."

Based on his lenses, Spider-Man winced. "Ouch. Wait, was this guy friends with Aizawa?"

She nodded. "Yeah. From what Nezu told me that Present Mic and Midnight told him, he saw the whole thing happen. And supposedly he was never the same afterwards." Seeing Spider-Man staring at the picture, she asked "What are you thinking?"

"Let's just say I'm wondering if that event plays into why he's doing this in some way," he replied. "Is there anything on the back of it?"

Flipping it over, they both saw that there was writing on the back: Garage: 6-09-2119.

They both shared a look, and Prowler asked "How much you wanna bet that he's hiding something in that garage next door?"

"One way to find out," Spider-Man replied, heading over to the window.

-Meanwhile-

"Please," a young girl's voice called out. "Please... just let me go."

Fear filled her as the dark clothed man looked into her cell, opening her door and walking in. With a flick of his one arm, a metallic strip of... something wrapped around her and bound her arms to her sides. Desperate and afraid, she tried to activate her Quirk so she could break free, only for her to see his glowing red eyes and feel her Quirk fading away.

Then she heard him growl out "Quit your whining. It's time for you to go to sleep."

He took a deep breath, before exhaling and a blood red mist that filled up the room. She held her breath for as long as she could, but eventually she caved and took in several gulps of air. That proved to be her undoing, as she quickly began feeling lightheaded and sleepy, while her nose was assaulted by the strong smell of... flowers.

Before long, darkness overtook her and she felt herself being dragged out of her cell.

And the last thing she saw before she fell asleep were those two horrible, glowing red eyes...

To Be Continued...

[1]: I don't know for sure if these numbers are accurate, since we're never given any actual years for when he's been teaching or the numbers of how many students he's expelled in said years. My original plan was to have him be there for ten years and have him expelled roughly 100 students, but I figured that by that point UA would've been shut down, whether by the HPSC (which would have a vested interest in UA given how they're helping to teach the next generation of heroes, that would hopefully make the Commission money) or by the Japanese Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology (which is a real thing. Google it.) for letting Aizawa's bullshit go on for that long. Sure, five years might be pushing it (not counting the 6th year since he was fired on the first day for that stunt in this story) but it's certainly more plausible than him still being allowed to teacher there after expelling his entire class on the first day of school.

[2]: Did I mention that I am sick and fucking tired of hearing Aizawa and Shinsou moaning and bitching about how the Entrance Exam is biased/rigged? Admittedly the thing about the off switches is a fan idea, but given how Ojiro, Hagakure and Mineta managed to get into the Hero Course, I'd say it's a very likely possibility. Aizawa, Shinsou? If those three can get into the Hero Course on the first try, you two grumpy-asses officially have no excuse!

[3]: These are OCs. Their names mean, in order, Grey Rhino, Desert, and Venomous Scorpion. Yes, I used Google translate when I was figuring out their names. No, I am NOT subtle. And yes, these three will return as more classic Spider-Man villains.

Welp, that was a long chapter. Hopefully a good one. Got to meet Lady Nagant's alter ego the Prowler, and see a little team up fight with her and Spider-Man. And some future villains that will almost certainly be coming back with serious upgrades. And they're definitely on the right track on finding Toga and the other kidnapped people.

And I'm sure a lot of people are going to be wondering what the hell is going on with Aizawa, and why he's doing this (assuming the picture wasn't a clear enough indicator.) Let's just say that I'm using a bit of a fanfic idea that I kinda wished ended up becoming Canon, with a few modifications.

Also, is it just me, or does Aizawa seem to have another Quirk? That's... a bid odd. ;)

All your questions will find their answers in the coming chapters. Mostly.

Until next time, EXCELSIOR!

#crossover au #izuku midoriya #spiderman #lady nagant #prowler #villain aizawa

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poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

Text

A Wild Game Of Survival

Pairing: Dark Loki x Female Reader, Loki/Sigyn

Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence, Language, Dark, Loki (he is a warning). Each chapter will have individual warnings.

Summary: In a world where everyone is immortal until they meet their soulmates, I expect to have a nice life with them and I was so wrong.

Notes: yes, it has first person narration. It's an old one.

Final Chapter: Valhalla, I am coming

Warnings: major characters death, old people

Summary: the visit was long, very long

Notes: a little bittersweet, but it's nice...

First chapter previous chapter AO3

My visit to Loki's cabin lasted decades.

I started helping him with the chores inside the house and he did the labor outside. We were still two petty assholes who could fight about everything but we didn't mind.

He never laid a hand on me and I did the same. He wanted me as a friend, as a companion. The feeling was mutual.

Things were getting harder as we aged. The coldness started messing with my body, the lack of sun and proper sleep made it worse. As he aged, Loki's magic got weaker and his physical strength followed. It didn't take long for us to resign to the closest nursing home when we decided that we couldn't live independently anymore. Loki hated the fact that he had to be taken care of, but my decreasing health forced him to agree.

Now, I was in my late eighties, Loki was about to hit triple digits (because guess who's Gods' favourite). Breathing was hard for me, and Loki's heart was slowly giving up on him.

But, he still aged well. Yes, the long black hair turned white, his skin stopped being as smooth and his once green eyes were now gray, but he was still as beautiful, even aged. And he never failed to remind me that I was beautiful as well.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his voice still smooth even if it got lower. I sighed from underneath the sheets. The cold made my body ache. I knew I wouldn't survive this winter, and it wasn't even Loki's birthday yet.

"Terrible, as I have been feeling for the last two weeks…" I whined, karma forcing another coughing fit in me. He brought me a glass of water, I took it carefully and pulled it on my lips. He smiled at this, he was feeding me for the last days, I was too weak to do it myself.

He laid down on the double bed with a sigh, his hand on his chest. He was good at hiding it, but I could see how he was getting weaker. But he didn't complain, not once.

"Loki…" I spoke weakly. He turned around, his gray eyes on me.

"I think we will meet your family soon," My voice was barely audible on the last words, I was too weak to even cough. He smiled, his wrinkles getting highlighted.

"You are part of my family. You stayed with me…" He didn't sound better than me. I gathered all my strength to move and lie on his shoulder. Like I used to when his homesickness was getting stronger, or when a thunderstorm was causing him to panic. He leaned and kissed me on the lips, for the first and the last time.

Then, he turned to the sky, his eyes closed and a smile still on his face as he spoke his last words.

"Valhalla, við erum að koma—Valhalla, we are coming,"

~~~

My body stopped hurting. I took a few deep breaths, remembering how refreshing it is.

I looked around. I was in a forest. It was night-time but with no bears. Just a fog stopping me from seeing far.

A strong hand held me. It was Loki's. I turned to look at him. He was in his late twenties again. And he wore an armour. Black and green and some gold. And old, Vikings armour.

"You are young again," I commented. He turned around. His green eyes were like the ones I loved.

"I can say the same for you," He smiled. His voice was still the same.

A woman walked closer, wearing clothes from the eighties but she looked quite like me. She slapped Loki and left.

A man, dressed with an old costume, again looking like me and the woman, punched Loki. He had some blood on his teeth but it healed.

We were in Hel. And Loki was going through his previous soulmates. His victims.

Men and women, all sharing some traits with me, were appearing, beating and/or cursing Loki and leaving. Clothes were getting older and older, and he lowered his head with shame somewhere in the mid 19th century.

I lost count on how many people came, but Loki was on the verge of collapse. But a boyish voice was enough to make him look up.

"Pabbi!—dad!" A small boy, around six, ran towards us and hugged Loki's feet. He had the same hair with me, but his eyes were glowing green, like his father's.

"Narfi, strákurinn minn!—Narfi, my son!" Loki fell on his knees and hugged Narfi. A second boy, almost identical to Narfi, ran into the hug. Loki couldn't stop smiling and crying, holding the boys as close as he could.

Steps echoed and I looked at the woman. She was like the others, but so different. She had the same hair with me, with her boys, and so kind eyes. And a warrior's body underneath the dark green gown. She was beautiful.

"Þú komst að lokum,— You finally came" Her voice was patient, kind. She wasn't angry at Loki's delay. She was glad he was here. And I understood Every word she spoke, even though she didn't speak English.

"Ó, stjörnur mín!—oh, my star" Loki cried out, standing up to dive in her hug. And he cried. He cried harder than anyone I have ever seen. "Mér þykir leitt. Ég er svo leitt. Ég ætti að hafa verndað þig. Ég ætti að hafa haldið þér öruggum.—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have protected you. I should have kept you safe" He apologized, weeping in Sigyn's shoulder. She held him tight and drew circles on his back with her hand, shushing him down.

"You are here now. That's all that matters, sólin mín—my sun." She spoke English now. I guess the forest made me understand her completely. Loki sniffed against her shoulder and let her go to face her. Then, he smiled. And then, she kissed him.

"Mamma, Pabbi, who's that woman?" The second boy, Vali asked and pointed at me. Loki let go of his wife and kneeled again.

"She's a friend. She brought me here," Loki explained, smiling at me. Narfi hugged my foot.

"Thank you for giving us Paddi, pretty lady," He whispered against my leg. I smiled and leaned to pet his hair. He was so cute, like his father.

"Yes, thank you. I was sure this idiot would survive to see Ragnarok if it wasn't for you," Sigyn laughed.

"Not cursing in front of the kids!" Loki growled, standing up but still holding Vali.

"Loki, the kids are a thousand years old." She signed. Loki made an oh sound, looking at his sons laughing at him.

"I am very happy I reunited the family… But I think I should go now…" I hummed and took a step back. Loki gave me the puppy eyes.

"You are family, remember?" He argued.

I smiled. I guess I am family

~~~The End~~~

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

#9 with indruck?

Here you go! And it’s SFW per your second ask.

9. It’s mid january what the shit are they doing out here without a scarf and gloves and would it be weird if I offered them mine

Indrid gazes down through the museum skylight. His future vision tells him the security guard will need to visit the bathroom in thirty seconds, giving him ample time to remove the false pane of glass he planted yesterday and slip into the exhibit hall.

A gust of wind drops a clump of snow down his neck and he scowls at the sky. He can’t get inside that building fast enough.

“Alright Cold, window shoppin time is over.”

A swirl of snow tornadoes across the roof and his nemesis, Ursa Major (secret identity: Duck Newton, forest ranger), steps through it.

Indrid groans, standing up to face him. The hero is in his standard green uniform, boots and mask decorated with constellations. Indrid’s own outfit is all black, save for his trademark red glasses. They were his signature when he was just Indrid Cold, eccentric city planner of Kepopolis, and he has no interest in surrendering them.

“Go away, it’s of no concern to you whether I acquire some new scientific specimens for my collection.”

“You know that ain’t the case. Besides, if you were rippin off some rich CEO I might be inclined to let it slide. But this is science museum. Y’know, the free one? The one people take their kids to on weekends? You ain’t jackin anything from it on my watch.”

Indrid sighs, theatrically, “Very well. Let’s get this over with. It’s not like it’ll hurt you to be thrown off a building again.”

“Not gonna happen.” The hero cracks his knuckles.

His bare knuckles.

Good god, he’s not wearing gloves. Or a scarf. Or any extra layers. How is he not just a hunksicle (no, damnit, he’s not that hunky. He’s beefcakey. No, not that either)?

Indrid stays put as the other man charges him, uses his powers to anticipate the exact moment to step out of the path of the blow. Duck sweeps out a leg, but only succeeds at slipping in the snow. Indrid snickers and Duck whirls on him with a growl.

“Careful, keep that stumbling up and you’ll fall straight through this window and make my job easier. I’d hate to have the chance to pin the robbery on you.”

“I ain’t ever stolen a thing, everyone knows-” he cuts of into a full body shudder. Indrid takes the chance to knock him over with a slight shove, then scurries back. Duck shivers again as he brushes snow from his costume.

“Bit chilly?” He grins wickedly to cover any concern that might try to show through.

“F-fuck you.”

“Look, it wouldn’t be sporting of me to fight when you’re clearly incapacitated. And it’s negative fifteen out here right now. Here” he starts undoing the knot in his thermal scarf, “at least take this.”

“I’m f-fine, ext-tra s-strong and all that s-shit.” He stands, tries to take a fight stance, only to sneeze and shiver even harder.

“I can hear your teeth chattering over the wind. And, goodness,your lips are turning blue, that’s not good at all. Hang on, let me just get out of this.” He checks the pockets of his stealth jacket to make sure there’s nothing important in them, slips it off, and holds it out.

Duck waves it away, “Whatever t-trap this is, I ain’t-t t-taken the b-bait.”

“For goodness sake, take the blasted jacket.” Indrid offers it again and Duck smacks it away. Indrid glares at him over his glasses, “You will be of no use to anyone, be they hero, villain, or civilian, if you die of hypothermia.”

“C-could get me inside by surren--achoo--derin.”

“Not a chance. If you insist on stubbornly staying out here and fighting, at least do so properly equipped. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can both get somewhere warm.”

“St-top offerin that jacket!”

Indrid frustratedly tries to trap the hero in the warm coat, but succeeds only in repeatedly hitting him with it.

“Just” whap “ take” whap “my help!” whap.

Duck dodges the fabric once, twice, three times.

And promptly steps off the edge of the building.

“Duck!” Indrid dives forward, grabbing a freezing hand that barely holds onto him.

The hero smirks up at him, “You f-forgettin somethin?”

Indrid remembers his earlier comment about Duck easily surviving this fall.

“Oh damn it all.”

Duck tugs, and then they’re both falling, Indrid twisting in the air in hopes of landing with the upper hand.

This turns out to be for naught, as they land side by side in a massive snowbank.

“Ow.”

Duck sneezes in agreement as the chill seeps through Indrid’s protective layers. It’s dark, the world is in that strange late night that is longing to be morning during which which most buildings have shut off all but a scant few lights. It’s now, his glasses inform him, -25 with the windchill.

And Duck is barely moving, huddled in the snow and watching Indrid carefully.

“Look, neither of us is going to get anything done in this weather. And we could both use some warmth. Is there anywhere nearby that’s open?”

“Diner. T-two blocks down.”

Indrid stands, hauling Duck to his feet and pulling him close in hopes of warming him, “Come on then.”

-----------------------------------

The neon signs on the walls buzz and tinny jukebox plays exactly the kind of sorrowful country song it should at 2 am on a miserable night. The diner is empty save for the single waitress and cook, who chatter in the kitchen.

Indrid sips his mug of tea with eight scoops of sugar, while Duck stirs his coffee with fingers that are only now steadying. Indrids jacket hags around his shoulders, and his scarf is looped around his neck.

He tries to ignore the affection seeing Duck in his clothing kindles in him, but it’s like the faint music and the neon buzz, a constant background noise that he can’t tune out.

Duck taps his fingers on his mug before asking quietly, “Why not just leave me out in that snowbank?”

“Because I didn’t want you to become ill, or worse.”

“You ain’t answerin the real question.”

Indrid glances out at the dark street, the removes his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, “I’m not certain.”

“It the same reason you ain’t told anyone else my real name?”

Indrid drops the glasses, surprised by this future, and they clatter on the teal table, “How did you know I knew that?”

“You called me by it up there.” He jerks his head towards the museum.

“Oh. So I did.”

“And you’ve hinted that you knew things about me when we tangled before. But I ain’t had any supervillains hidin in my closet, no one stakin out the station. Which tells me you ain’t shared this with you buddies.”

“They’re not my ‘buddies.’ I work alone.” He can’t hide the scorn that enters his voice at the thought of Kepopolis’s League of Villains. The he looks back at Duck and the world softens, “But you’re right; I’ve kept your identity to myself. I...I like you, Duck. Save for the moments where we’re trading blows, I think we could be friends.”

(More than friends)

“I feel no malice towards you. I did the first few times, but when I look for it now all that remains is a certain fondness. Even when you are a thorn in my side, you are a familiar thorn. The kind that builds up scar tissue, making one stronger and, ah, no, that metaphor got away from me, I apologize.”

Duck considers him silently for a moment. Then he grabs the edges of his mask and pulls it up and off.

Indrid has seen Duck’s face before in visions. But seeing it now undoes him. The strong jaw and soft cheeks, the laugh lines, the signs of worry and wear that Indrid wishes he could soothe away with gentle promises.

“What do you want from me, Indrid?”

“Nothing. Uh, that is, everything. Ah, no, apologies, that was not helpful.” He sits up straight, musters his remaining courage, “I wish to get to know you better, Duck. As friends and equals, not as enemies.”

“How do you figure that’d work?”

“I could...take a break from my cunning plans? And in return you could tell your fellow heroes not to look for me. I’d really rather not have someone explode through my wall while I’m in my fuzzy moth slippers trying to read.”

Duck gives a startled laugh, and at the sight of the smile Indrid’s heart glows like neon.

“That’s a hell of an image. Okay, fine. You lay of the schemin and stealin, I’ll make sure you don’t get bothered.”

“And we can see each other?” He bounces excitedly in place, which amuses Duck all the more.

“Sure. Come by work at five tomorrow, and we can go from there. Deal?” He holds out his hand and Indrid takes it eagerly.

“Deal.”

They pay the tiny bill and part ways, Indrid glancing back only to find Duck doing the same with a fond smile in his direction.

It’s only when he gets home that he realizes Duck still has his scarf and jacket.

Ah well, it’s no trouble. He checks the futures. Yes, in all of them Duck is sure to bring his clothes back to him without prompting.

And in all of them, when Indrid presents him with flowers, he smiles bright enough to chase the last of the dark worries from Indrid’s mind.

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #superhero au #prompt fill

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captainmeowvelwrites · 4 years

Text

You Times Two (Ch.3)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 3354 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Marinette considered growing a magnificent beard and running away to join the circus. She reflected on the ramifications of Chat Blanc, which honestly, the author is still too upset about to make light of right now. And just to top it all off, Clumsy Girl smacked Golden Boy in the face with a door, then somehow called him Chadrien. Has our favourite gal’s cover been blown? Has her kitty quite literally had some sense smacked into him? And purrhaps most importantly, is his lil’ button nose okay? You can probably hazard a guess, but read on, I say!

---

Chapter Three

Adrien left Marinette in the locker room and stepped out into the morning sun, its warmth bathing his skin.

But the heat of his cheeks had a different source.

As he twisted his ring – something he often did when his brain was abuzz – he glimpsed his reflection in a tinted window, a reminder that his hair was still a bit of mess. He reached for his bangs, his thoughts drifting a minute into the past.

There'd been a light in Marinette's eyes, and a sense of ease about her, when he'd ruffled his hair.

Of course, that had only lasted a second.

And then, like Ladybug, she'd called him Chadrien.

That had to be a coincidence.

Ladybug had fumbled over her words last night, as Marinette often did.

Marinette's eyes were like the sky after a storm, a stunning shade of bluebell, just like Ladybug's. How had he not noticed that before?

His hand fell from his hair to his side, as his lips drew into a resolute line.

No, his suspicions were impossible.

Marinette was Multimouse.

She couldn't be Ladybug too.

His eyes sunk to his shoes as he continued to think of his lady. The reality was, she wasn't his lady. She never had been.

There was a thickness in his throat and a void in his eyes as he wondered—again—if things might've been different, if not for that boy. She'd said she couldn't even imagine a world without him, whoever he was.

And that hurt.

A lot.

To an extent, it had depleted his hope of something ever blooming between them. But more than that, it always made him wonder if she could say the same for him. Could she imagine a world without Chat Noir?

Truly, Adrien didn't know the answer.

His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms.

This shouldn't matter anymore.

He was dating Kagami.

Well, sort of.

The press had snapped them eating ice cream together. And yes, they'd almost kissed—but they hadn't made things official, despite what the media were saying.

Regardless, everyone thought they were official—including Kagami.

He hated this.

Not because Kagami was basically his girlfriend, but because he'd never imagined this unravelling quite as it had.

He'd imagined a rose-covered rooftop and a candlelit dinner. He'd imagined a passionate declaration and actually asking the girl to be his girlfriend. He'd imagined a night ending in a flurry of hugs and kisses and laughter.

And he'd imagined it all with Ladybug.

He buried his face in his palms, where the dent of his nails still showed.

This wasn't fair on Kagami.

But Ladybug didn't love him back. She never would.

And despite the way he felt about her, to say he didn't care for Kagami was a lie.

Kagami had always been upfront with him. Maybe that's why he'd been so drawn to her. She was assertive, strong-minded and knew exactly what she wanted.

A lot like Ladybug, a part of him whispered.

A very annoying part.

With a huff, Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose. It was still tender from its encounter with a door and for some reason, that made him smile.

Plagg peeked up at him from beneath his white overshirt. "So why'd you have to come out here to wait for your friend?"

Adrien tensed. "Plagg," he whispered, his eyes snapping around the school courtyard, finding it empty. "Hide before someone sees you." He tugged the edge of his white shirt over his kwami's head.

Of course, Plagg squeezed his way back out despite his chosen's protests. "People are blind," he whined. "Not to mention I blend in with your shirt."

Adrien heaved a sigh, yielding to Plagg's question. "I just have a lot on my mind. That's all."

"Like what, hmm?"

"Since when do you care about something that isn't cheese-related?" He was half-joking.

"Oh please," Plagg barked. "I just wanna know what's got you in such a tizz."

Adrien glowered at that and glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting Marinette to barge out of the locker room right that second. When she didn't, he looked down at Plagg. "Marinette: that's who Ladybug reminded me of last night."

Plagg groaned in time with an eye roll. "So what? Marinette's always talking nonsense. Ladybug did for one measly night!"

"But, Plagg," Adrien said, desperation seeping through his words, "this isn't the first time I've suspected she was Ladybug!"

"Have you forgotten about Kwamibuster?" Plagg grimaced. "She was Multimouse. We even saw her and Ladybug side-by-side."

A thought flashed in Adrien's eyes. "Miracle Queen," he announced, and Plagg tipped his head. "Why didn't she show up to collect the Mouse Miraculous?" He cupped his chin, glancing toward the morning sky. "Every other Miraculous Wielder did."

"She isn't a Miraculous Wielder anymore," Plagg said simply. "Ladybug told her as much after she revealed her identity to you. Or maybe she just didn't get stung by those nasty bugs."

His hopes were crushed as quickly as they'd come, and he realised how much he'd been hoping to begin with. Did he want Marinette to be Ladybug? Was that why he kept searching for reasons to suspect her?

He pursed his lips, wrestling with these ruminations and the risks that came with them. His suspicions were circumstantial, if that. And if he ever learned Ladybug's identity, it should be on her terms.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder…

"I… guess you're right, Plagg." The disappointment in his voice was thicker than glue.

"Of course, I'm right!"

Adrien tapped his lips, eyes drifting skyward once more. "And Ladybug did say we don't know each other out of costume." Though she'd also said she wouldn't tell him if they did. "You know who Ladybug is, right? From when we faced Mr Damo—The Dark Owl."

"If you're suggesting what I think you are—"

Adrien shook his head. "You know I'd never betray Ladybug's trust like that."

"Good," Plagg said, throwing his whiskers in the air, "because I couldn't tell you who she is even if I wanted to. Tikki would kill me." His paw emerged from beneath Adrien's white shirt, and he placed a thoughtful claw to his lips. "As for Ladybug's stuttering last night, maybe your identity just… took her off guard? For all you know, she was starstruck! Like that time you took me to the Aligre Market." His green eyes glided upward, glazing over, and he let out a dreamy sigh. "So… much… artisan cheese…"

Adrien gaped—and it took him at least five seconds to form words. "You… You think Ladybug could be a fan of mine?"

"It makes a lot more sense than your stupid theory."

Adrien had never even considered that possibility, but Plagg was right. It did make sense. Maybe that's why she'd freaked out.

"But," Plagg continued, "how should I know if she's a fan of yours? Just ask her at patrol tonight."

Adrien's chest tightened as he pictured that very scenario. "But what if she is a fan and freaks out again like last time?" Worry weighed on his lips. "Or what if she's not and thinks I'm arrogant and—"

The thump of a hand against wood made him jump, and Plagg vanished beneath his shirt.

"Sorry I took so long!"

He turned to find Marinette, her hair a little more frazzled. Her eyes snapped around the courtyard, not meeting his.

Oh no! Had she heard him talking?

Adrien threaded his fingers, his thumbs circling each other. "No – No problem." He swallowed and forced a small smile. "I was just – uhh…"

"Don't worry," Marinette chimed, finally looking his way. Her eyes creased as she smiled. "I stalk—uhh, talk to myself too. All the time. I mean – uhh – some of the time." She cleared her throat. "So I – uhh – guess we're both nosy—I mean crazy."

"Oh, I…" Adrien broke eye contact, glancing between her and the ground. "What did you hear?"

"N-Nothing!" Marinette shrieked, waving her hands back and forth. "Just – uh – mumbling and stuff." She looked away, her fingers drumming against the straps of her backpack. "So, umm…" She nodded towards the nearby stairs. "Class, then?"

Adrien forced a chuckle, only for his voice to crack. And now they were both blushing. "Ri-Right." He squeezed the strap of his shoulder bag with one hand and extended his other toward the stairs. "After you, then."

Marinette took a single step forward and, true to form, somehow tripped over air.

Adrien's hands were on her shoulders in an instant, barring her greeting with the ground. "Are you okay?"

"No—I mean yes!" She peeled his hands from her shoulders and practically jumped back to her full height. "I'm just – uhh – clumsy. Ha ha. I am so clumsy." She flashed an oddly wide grin, her hands flying this way and that as she spoke. "Like, the Queen of Clumsy. Any physical activity whatsoever and I am not your girl. Not by a mile. Heck, I couldn't even run a mile. Because, y'know – I'm so unfit. And clumsy. Did I mention I'm clumsy?" The second she finished her spiel, her eyes shot to her ballerina flats.

Adrien managed a laugh, despite how his brows squished together. "Uhh… Yes, you did mention that." His brows settled, but he continued to smile. "And Marinette, you're not as clumsy as you think you are."

Marinette wiped her palms across her pants. "I'm… I'm not?" she squeaked, peering up at him.

"Well, I've experienced your dancing first-hand, remember?" Adrien slid an arm around her shoulders, showing a supportive smile. "And let's not forget your fencing and ice-skating skills. Try not to sell yourself short, okay?" His arm slipped from her shoulders to rub the nape of his neck, and he laughed lightly. "But maybe do try to be more careful sometimes."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "Uh – Um – Yeah. I'll… try to be more careful."

With that, Adrien extended his hand toward the stairs. "Shall we?"

---

She'd eavesdropped on Adrien and Plagg – but not on purpose!

In fact, she'd been about to shove those pesky doors aside when her name – or rather, Ladybug's name – had given her pause.

She'd only caught bits and pieces, but by the sound of it, Adrien suspected she was Ladybug. And in that moment, Chat Blanc's petrifying face had flashed through her mind. That was all the incentive she'd needed to throw him off her tracks, by deliberately tripping over air and pointing out her lack of physical prowess.

He couldn't know she was Ladybug.

Not yet.

Perhaps not ever.

Marinette quite literally shook that thought to the outskirts of her mind. Now, around Adrien, was not the time and place for it.

Instead, she panted excessively as they scaled the stairs, hoping he'd bought her 'I'm so clumsy and unfit' charade—if she could even call it that. She wasn't unfit, but she was a royal clutz, even if Adrien didn't think so.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Marinette's mind wandered elsewhere. She wasn't late thanks to an akuma, so her secret identity wasn't at risk. Did she even need to make up an excuse?

She could just say she'd slept in.

In fact, that's exactly what she'd done.

On purpose.

To avoid the very boy she was arriving late with.

A groan slipped through her lips—and of course, Adrien heard it.

"Everything okay, Marinette? You sure you're not hurt?"

"Err – Yeah! I'm – I'm fine." Her eyes flew this way and that, as she considered an excuse. "I was just… uh…"

Adrien's eyes were fixed on her and once more, she took in his mussed hair… so reminiscent of Chat Noir.

"I was just wondering what to say to Miss Bustier?"

Adrien smiled, his bangs bobbing with each step he took. "You mean, how do we explain our lateness?" He adjusted the strap of his bag, his ring in full view. "We don't. In my experience, Miss Bustier is fine as long as you apologise and don't disrupt the lesson beyond that. It's Ms Mendeleiev that's a little trickier to deal with."

"Tell me about it," Marinette muttered, only to gasp and go tense. "I mean, uhh… Yeah, I've been crate—late to her class a few times. It's never easy."

They stopped outside their classroom door, Adrien's hand returning to her shoulder. He leaned in close and this time, her unfit charade wasn't the reason her breath hitched.

"Just follow my lead, okay?"

Marinette nodded, unable to hide a slight smile at the irony. Usually, it was him that followed her lead. He just didn't know it.

Adrien offered her an encouraging smile, then eased the classroom door aside. Miss Bustier was seated at her desk, her eyes on them and her hands hovering over the keys on her laptop. Their classmates looked up from their tablets, their eyes flicking between Marinette and Adrien.

Adrien entered first. "Sorry we're late, Miss Bustier." He held the door open and snuck Marinette a supportive wink that made her cheeks burn.

This time, Marinette's stumble was unintentional as she stepped inside, feeling all eyes on her. She didn't know what was worse: the way Chloe and Lila glared daggers at her or the bug-eyed look on Alya's face.

Behind her, Adrien clicked the door shut, and she cleared her throat. "Uhh. Y-Yeah!" Her face scrunched in apology. "Sorry, Miss Bustier"—she itched her cheek—"for interrupting the lesson."

Miss Bustier nodded, showing a gracious smile. "Please take your seats and pull out your tablets. We're starting a pop quiz in a couple of minutes."

Adrien and Marinette nodded in sync, and he gracefully claimed his seat.

Her?

She tripped on the first step, greeted the second with her shin, and crawled the rest of the way. Once she was in her seat, her panic-struck eyes shot to Miss Bustier, only to be met by a knowing smile.

A sigh of relief slipped from Marinette's lips as she placed her backpack on her desk.

That relief was short-lived.

Alya leaned into her personal bubble, rocking a smirk. "Girl," she whispered, her eyes narrow with amusement. "Start. Talking."

Marinette played dumb. "About what?" she whispered back, hunched behind her backpack to avoid Miss Bustier's stare.

Alya rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You and Adrien just showed up to class together. Late. With super messy hair." She raised a brow. "There's gotta be a story there!"

"There's no story, Alya," she said through a sigh.

"Oh, come on." Alya eyed her from behind her tablet, her smirk growing. "Did you two finally make out in the utility closet?"

"ALYA!" Marinette screeched, somehow knocking her bag over the back of her desk. It brushed Adrien's back as it descended toward the wooden floor, meeting it with a dull thud.

"Marinette," said Miss Bustier, looking up from her laptop to send her a stern look, "if you arrive late, I expect you to do it discreetly."

She stooped her head low. "Sorry, Miss Bustier!"

Adrien turned in his chair - his tablet already laid out on his desk - and with a sympathetic smile, he heaved her bag off the floor. She nodded her thanks as he placed it on the desk. Only when he turned back to his tablet did she shoot Alya a glare.

"We both just happened to be late," she quietly growled, "and I kinda forgot to brush my hair, so Adrien messed his up to make me feel better. And to save us interrupting class twice, we decided to show up together." The slightest smirk Alya still showed only had her eyes rolling. "Need I remind you he's dating Kagami?"

That swept the smugness from her face. "All riiiight, I believe you." She watched, her eyes squinting in thought, as Marinette pulled her tablet from her backpack. "But hey, speaking of dating… How're things going with Luka?" Of course, her teasing smile returned; it never did seem to be gone for long. "Maybe it's him you're smooching in a closet, hmm?"

Thoughts of last night swarmed to the forefront of Marinette's mind, and her stomach churned at the reminder of Luka. "I… No! We're just hanging out." She set her backpack on the floor and turned back to her tablet, bringing up their pop quiz with a shaky finger.

Alya turned to her own tablet. "So, does that mean you guys haven't kissed yet?"

Marinette's cheeks flushed pink and she shook her head excessively. "Don't you think I'd tell you if we had?"

Alya lightly elbowed Marinette's side. "When it comes to you, girl, I never know what to think."

Briefly, she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Okay. Fair point, but trust me, Alya, if I ever get a boyfriend, you'll be the first to know."

---

Usually, sitting behind Adrien was a blessing.

Today, it was a curse.

No matter how hard she tried, Marinette's eyes kept drifting to the boy ahead of her. She studied the curve of his broad shoulders, recalling all the times she'd seen them wrapped in leather. She strained her ears each time he spoke and now it was impossible to unhear her partner. And during last period, when Alya struck up a conversation with him, she caught her eyes travelling the defined arc of his jaw.

Now that she knew he was Chat Noir, she just couldn't unsee it.

"So, Adrien," Alya was saying, leaning over her desk. "You gonna come play Ultimate Mecha Strike III tomorrow?" She glanced between the two boys ahead. "I might also pull out Just Dance if I'm feeling a little bit groovy," she added, shimmying in her seat.

"Yeah, Alya!" Adrien said, his face alight. "I'll definitely be there this time!"

Marinette bolted upright in her seat, horror flashing across her face.

"Good to hear," Alya said beside her.

"Yeah! Would you believe my father said yes for a change?" Adrien tapped his lips, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling. "He's been in a pretty good mood lately… I think." He looked back at Alya, smiling. "Kagami's excited too. And maybe a bit nervous. She hasn't really hung out with more than a couple of friends at a time."

A splash of pity washed over Marinette. It'd been a while since her last orange juice outing with Kagami and she knew those meet-ups meant a lot to her. For a moment, she considered arranging another one.

That thought was quickly crushed by the glaring reminder that sat before her - otherwise known as Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir.

Kagami's boyfriend.

She pulled her arms across her torso, her eyes sinking to the dented surface of her desk. She was almost certain a catch up with Kagami would end tragically. Heck, it would probably start tragically too—at least while her knowledge of Chat's identity was still fresh.

Adrien and Kagami's relationship had been – still was – extremely hard to swallow. Knowing Kagami's boyfriend was also Chat Noir somehow seemed to make things more complicated. And now that she thought about it, it was no wonder Chat had flirted with Ryuko last week, during their brief fight with Loveater.

Marinette had a feeling she'd continue to be struck by realisations like this for at least a few weeks. Understandable, considering she's been unknowingly crushing on her superhero partner this whole time. She barely bit back a groan at that lovely reminder. It sounded like the punchline of a very bad joke. Or maybe she was the punchline?

"I'm excited for Kagami to be a bigger part of our friend group," Alya was saying, a teasing lilt in her voice as she continued. "Especially now that you two are an item." She elbowed Marinette, prompting a wince. "Isn't that right, girl?"

Rubbing her aching side, Marinette grinned a little too widely at the boys seated below her. At any other time, the red that crept across Adrien's cheeks would've been adorable. Now, it twisted her heart.

"I – Uhh. Yeah." She hoped her smile seemed genuine, at least to Adrien. "I can – I mean, I can't wait!"

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #you times two #adrinette #marichat #ladynoir #ladrien

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kenzie-kitty · 5 years

Text

Enemies? Part 2 -Batman/Joker

Part 2 of “Enemies?”, which was posted not too long before this.

Definitely a trigger warning for a suicide attempt in this part :/

Part 1 is here

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was evening in Gotham, raining as usual, and the sun was setting slowly behind the tall buildings. The only strange thing about the night was that it was the end to a relatively uneventful day; the bank robbery was the only crime that had happened, and no one had actually gotten hurt.

Joker wasn’t feeling up for any other adventures at the moment, and he doubted he would any time soon. He considered taking off on an early retirement, but he’d come to actually like Gotham and the people in it. Specifically one person.

As he wasn’t doing anything illegal, he chose to go for a walk; he loved the smell of gasoline and smoke that had permeated the joke shop due to his arrival, but city-polluted fresh air was just as great. The streets were deserted, as they generally were in the southern side of the city, so Joker didn’t have any issues while he strolled through the cracked streets. His mind kept going back to his Dark Knight, the man who had stolen his heart without even knowing it. He couldn’t help but give himself the tiniest slice of hope that they’d end up together; he wanted desperately to know the Bat inside and out.

‘Don’t be stupid, clown. He’s a hero, you’re a villain; you’ll never be together. He’s a million times too good for you,’ his mind taunted him, slashing at his emotions with mental knives. He argued back and forth with the harsh little voice, eventually giving in and agreeing with it. He even started to join it.

His distracted mind was the reason he didn’t see the dark shape coming at him from his side.

~~~~~~~~~

Bruce, now in his Batsuit, made a quick trip to the police station as soon as the sun began to sink. He’d wanted to know more about the robbery, surprised to hear that Joker hadn’t made his usual jests or even shown his face. Come to think of it, the clown had been acting stranger than usual for the past couple months; Batman had heard him more than once muttering to himself, and he thought he’d heard the clown say something about a dark night.

Before he left the station, Gordon pulled him aside into the lockup.

“Listen, Batman. We’ve all noticed how you and Joker seem more… friendly than you used to, and we’ve kinda found that if we do as he says most people survive. So, uhm, we still have his coat and weapons from yesterday and I thought I’d give them to you to get back to him,” Gordon explained, handing Batman the dirty purple coat and a small shoebox filled with the aforementioned weapons.

“We aren’t friends. He doesn’t have friends. He’s just calmed down a bit, and I’m taking advantage of the down-time,” Batman claimed, taking the Joker’s belongings. He left the station and climbed onto his bike, speeding off in the direction of the bakery he’d dropped his clown off at the night before.

‘There I go again, calling him my clown,’ he thought, getting more and more annoyed at himself. He’d even asked Alfred about the food, but nothing sounded like it would’ve caused this. Besides, it would’ve stopped by this point had it been the food.

The bakery came into view and Batman parked in the shadows between it and its neighbor. Looking in one of the broken windows, he could see that no one had so much as touched anything inside recently; he wasn’t surprised he’d been mislead, Joker was becoming less hostile but he wasn’t getting any dumber.

He decided to walk around in case he could find any semblance of life in the dirtier side of the city. It didn’t take long for him to hear the distracted mutters of the Joker, nor did he have to look far to figure out where the costumed man was. He saw the green hair first, glowing slightly neon in the light of a lamp, and then the greasepaint came into view. Batman had to smirk at the way Joker would subconsciously flick the strands of hair from his face.

It was then that he noticed the coat he was wearing, identical to the one he’d left at the police station. He almost laughed aloud at the thought that the Joker had a closet full of identical outfits; he managed to achieve a blank look on his face before he moved toward his clown. ‘Stop calling him that,’ came the little voice again, but he ignored it.

As he got closer to Joker, he heard parts of what he was muttering. “Stupid clown… never be together… too good for you… never deserve his love… might as well die…” He suddenly became concerned for Joker, although he had no idea who or what he was thinking about. He closed the distance between them and shoved the clown into an alleyway, holding him against the wall with his hands over his head. For a moment, Joker struggled, not knowing for sure who was holding him down; the second he realised it was the Bat, he calmed down and sighed.

“If this is about the bank, it was because I got… bored,” Joker claimed, an unreadable look on his face.

“You’ve been awfully calm lately,” Batman accused, pushing his other questions to the end of his list. “What are you planning?”

“Do I really look like a guy with a plan?” Joker retorted immediately. “No, I’m just… letting everyone get used to the silence before I hit them with a big surprise.”

Batman narrowed his eyes at his clown, pressing Joker’s wrists together in his one hand as he began to struggle slightly. He couldn’t help but notice the lean yet muscular body hidden by the layers of tailored fabric, and the full lips underneath the bright red greasepaint. He mentally shook his head to refocus and continued the conversation.

“You left your things at the police station.”

Joker shrugged. “Yeah, but I know a good tailor and I have many more weapons than where those came from,” he smirked and winked at the Bat.

Batman kept his face straight as he revealed the coat and shoebox with his free hand. “Now you have the original coat and more weapons. Gordon wanted rid of them,” he supplied the explanation before Joker could ask; he was always doing that, giving the explanation the second he assumed his clown would ask. ‘Stop calling him yours, Wayne! He’s not, he’d probably rather be with Dent than you.’ He once again pushed down the voice.

“Why give them back when you know I’ll probably just cause more damage with them?”

Batman shrugged, “They’re yours and Gordon doesn’t want them. Neither do I.” He mentally punched the voice telling him he was lying about not wanting them, if only just to have a piece of the clown with him.

Joker stared at him for a heartbeat, suspicion clear in his eyes, before nodding slowly. “Well, I can’t take them from you with my hands caught above my head, now can I?”

Batman grunted and released one of his hands, quickly tightening his grip on the other to keep Joker where he was. The clown grabbed his things, first putting the coat over his arm then holding the box in his hand. “Uh, thanks,” he muttered, looking away from the caped vigilante and out into the dark street.

“I have more questions,” Batman informed, gaining back his clown’s attention. Joker nodded and put on his normal bored expression. “Ask away,” Joker motioned for him to continue with his freed hand, the weapons in the box sliding around making clicking sounds as they hit each other.

“Why steal money when you’ve said yourself that it’s not about the money,” Batman asked, dark eyes narrowing. Everybody had wondered it, constantly saying that he was contradicting himself.

Joker sighed in slight annoyance. ‘No one ever listens!’ His verbal replay showed he was becoming tired of answering the question. “It isn’t about the money, not for me. But, to everyone else, it is! See, people think that it’s money that can make them happy, but in reality it’s anything else. Friends, adventures, excitement, love! That’s what brings happiness; not money.”

Batman was taken aback by the answer. He didn’t think his clown- this mass murdering, bank robbing clown- was so sentimental. He then had to wonder if Joker had these things; he knew his clown had his own adventures and excitement, but friends and love? Everyone in the city was awaiting the day they’d see the clown’s corpse on TV as they danced around it.

“How’d you come up with that?”

Joker shrugged as best he could with one arm still extended above his head, slightly painfully he might add, and looked away from his Bat again. “Let’s just say it, uh, came to me in a dream,” he jested quietly, licking one of the scars inside his cheek. He was trying his hardest (ha, hardest) to ignore the way his Bat’s body was pressing against him; there was hardly any space between them. He tried to figure out a way to get out of his Knight’s grip, or at the very least put a small amount of space between them.

“Would you, uh, mind not standing so close to me? I’d rather not be pressed against you,” Joker lied. He internally winced when he noticed that he hadn’t made that statement sound anything close to being the truth.

Batman heard the lie in Joker’s words, though his mind tried to tell him he was imagining things. ‘Joker couldn’t possibly feel anything close to even liking me. He just wants to play mind games, just like he always does, don’t pay any attention to what he wants.’ The Bat ignored the Joker’s request and asked yet another question. “What’s the next big surprise?”

Joker found it increasingly more difficult to concentrate, especially when Batman repositioned his feet to find a more comfortable stance and inadvertently brushed harshly against Joker’s hips. Joker took slow, calming breaths to try to cool himself down, not hearing Batman’s question as he did so.

“Joker, answer the question,” Batman growled, surprised he was able to hide his reaction to accidentally brushing against his clown’s hips. Joker wasn’t responding and Batman could see that something had made him uncomfortable. ‘No, he can’t be… He’s just playing around,’ his brain insisted even as Batman could see a flash of… arousal? flash through his clown’s eyes.

“Joker?”

Joker blinked, finally calm enough to realise that his Knight was staring at him suspiciously through his mask’s eye holes. He cleared his throat and managed a smile. “Heh, gotcha!” He shouted weakly, somehow knowing his Bat wouldn’t be convinced. He had to get away before he said anything more condemning. “I, uhm, just realised that I, uh, left my oven on,” he smirked nervously before somehow wriggling out of his Bat’s grip and taking off down the road.

He ran fast, not caring how awkwardly tight his pants had gotten; he had to make it back to the joke shop without further stalling. He was close to his hideout when he was again shoved into a wall in an alley by his Knight.

“Oh, hello. So we meet again, Dark Knight,” he greeted as sarcastically as he could to cover his arousal. The fact that he’d been forcefully slammed into a wall (twice) was not helping.

“What are you hiding, Joker,” Batman growled, hoping to get the answer to the underlying question. It suddenly occurred to him what Joker had called him. ‘Dark Knight? He’d been muttering about a dark knight for days, could he have meant… me?’

“N-nothing, I have nothing to hide. Well, I mean, I do but nothing actually of concern to you,” Joker mentally cursed himself as he managed to somehow sound more suspicious.

“What did you call me?”

Joker’s paint covered eyebrows knitted together at the question. He’d been expecting something more… aggressive to follow his statement. “W-what do you, uh, mean?”

“You called me ‘Dark Knight’,” Batman clarified. “Why?”

Joker mentally stumbled for an answer that wouldn’t reveal how he felt; he couldn’t think of a believable reason to call him that, not one that wouldn’t bring the expectation of further explanation. He swallowed thickly, looking everywhere except his Dark Knight. He hadn’t even realised he’d called him that out loud, and he certainly hadn’t been wanting to do so.

“You’re not answering,” Batman growled. Joker couldn’t help but be aroused by the deep sound of the false voice and the feeling of being pressed against by the man who haunted his mind day and night. He knew that if his Bat moved his leg even slightly to the left he’d be able to feel Joker’s erection through both their layers of clothing. He had to distract the masked vigilante somehow and run; he didn’t want to hurt him, he’d done enough of that already. So he went with the next thing he thought of.

Batman’s eyes widened as his clown’s painted face was suddenly closer, their lips forced together with the surprisingly strong hand of the clown. He stood there, head stooped down in their kiss, as Joker let out a happy sounding hum. Then, as quickly as it had happened, the kiss stopped. Batman opened his eyes, although he wasn’t sure when they had closed, to see an empty space in front of him.

Joker was gone, but his paint was on Batman’s face as the only evidence he’d been there in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Joker slammed the joke shop’s door closed and leaned back against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. He felt the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. ‘Why did I do that?! He knows… He fucking knows!’

His head fell forward into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. He tried to hold back the tears, knowing they’d lead to sobs; he hadn’t cried in years and knew he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he started now. The salty liquid streaming down his face, creating tracks in his makeup that was already smearing off, had its own ideas. His shoulders shook as he realised he’d made a mistake by letting himself feel anything for his… the Batman.

He stood suddenly, slamming his fist backward into the wooden door and ignoring the sting in his hand as he walked into the back room he’d made into his bedroom. He found the bottle of vodka he’d taken from a gas station a couple days ago and twisted the cap off. Taking a long swig from it, he fell back onto his small bed and let sad sleep take over.

~~~~~~~~~

Bruce pulled the last of his costume off and tossed it to the ground of the Batcave. He’d changed into his normal clothing before he remembered the greasepaint that was still on and around his mouth. He pressed two fingers against his lips and pulled them away to see them covered in red and white paint. He wiped the last of it off his face with his black shirtsleeve and exited his secret hideout. He headed home to his penthouse, hoping to be able to think over his clown’s actions.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time had passed since their kiss, ten hours to be exact. Joker hadn’t left his hideout in that time, instead spending the day sitting on his bed unmoving. His minions had knocked on the door plenty of times but left believing he wasn’t there; he knew at some point they’d either enter to check on him or completely leave him be, but he didn’t care. Caring had been what hurt him in the first place. It always did.

He vaguely noticed the sun setting and the room becoming darker as time slipped deeper into the night. He supposed he should get up and eat or drink something before he passed out, but couldn’t bring himself to move until he decided to do something to get rid of his feelings.

He stood shakily and walked slowly to the dingy bathroom. His reflection showed a tired man with more tanned skin showing than greasepaint and dark rings under his eyes. The green in his hair was fading, but he didn’t have the energy to re-dye it. Looking away from the grimy mirror, he picked up the three shallow jars of his makeup.

He opened the first jar to see pasty white cream that he knew would be cold on his warm skin. He carefully slathered it over his face, leaving the areas around his eyes, mouth and scars clean of white as he knew they’d be covered in their own designated colors. Closing that jar, he twisted open the jar of black, seeing inky darkness as he did so. His fingers dipped inside and brought his covered fingers to his eyes. He smeared it over the lids, making sure no skin was showing through.

The red was always last, and he made sure to wipe the white and black residue off his fingers before he coated them in the crimson paint. He covered his lips first, pushing his thoughts of Batman’s soft lips as far from his mind as he could; he knew any tears would ruin the perfected makeup. His fingers painted the red over his scars and he shuddered slightly as he felt the jagged edges.

He stepped out of the bathroom and pulled on his purple coat, the one his Bat had brought back to him, feeling the familiar slight bulge of his favorite blade in his pocket. Sighing and rolling his shoulders back in a move of decision, he left the joke shop, thinking it would be his last time seeing the old building.

~~~~~~~~~~~ (Trigger warning for this upcoming part)

Bruce was back in his Batsuit as he stood at the top of one of the many skyscrapers of Gotham. The sun had set once again as he stood watching over his city. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice come over the radio waves through the earpiece in his mask.

“Batman, I know you’re listening to this and even if you, uh, aren’t, you’ll hear it later,” Joker’s voice said quietly. He sounded… different; there was a twinge of pain in his nasally voice. “I, uh, I just want to say that we’ve had a good run, you and I. But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. I suppose I should resort back to my more normal self and give you a time frame to find your, uh, victim. So, you have five minutes until they’re… dead.”

Batman immediately jumped down from the building, using his suit’s wings to guide him away from the ground and across the sky; Alfred, who had been listening, used the signal to pinpoint the location of the voice. It took only a minute and a half for Batman to find the place; Joker was at the top of one of the largest skyscrapers in the city. And he was alone.

The Bat quickly used his Bat hook to scale the building, leaving him with only a minute left to figure out his clown’s plans. The clown in question had moved to the opposite end of the roof and was standing on the edge of the roof, his back to the vigilante.

“You found me,” he halfheartedly congratulated him, his shoulders slouched as he stared down to the ground.

“Who’s the victim?” Batman questioned, worriedly hoping he wouldn’t get the answer he was thinking. Hope was not on his side.

“Don’t you get it, Dark Knight? It’s me!” Joker shouted suddenly, swaying forward concerningly. He glanced at the purple watch he had around his wrist to see that he had ten seconds left. He turned, and what Batman saw made him gasp.

Those green eyes that were usually filled with anger and murder were now filled with sadness and tears. His makeup, which had obviously been applied with great care, now had streaks on the cheeks. A gust of wind blew his coat back to reveal his favorite suit, the one with the metallic blue, hexagonal patterned dress shirt, green vest, purple jacket, and purple slacks. He had a light green pocket square in the jacket’s breast pocket and shining green cufflinks on the sleeves that peeked out from under his coat’s sleeves. He was dressed how he wanted to be remembered; as the Clown Prince of Crime.

“Joker… You don’t want to do this,” Batman reasoned, taking a step toward him.

Five seconds.

“Yeah, I, uh, really do,” Joker confirmed quietly, edging his feet back. “And you won’t stop me. Because this city would condemn you for saving the terrorist clown.”

Three seconds.

“I’ll save you because no one deserves to die, especially not like this. Especially not you,” Batman insisted, taking two more steps forward.

One second.

Joker gave what he thought would be his last smile. “Goodbye, my Dark Knight.”

He felt the upward draft hit him hard as he fell backward off the building; his wavy hair flew up along the sides of his painted face and his coat was plastered against his back. He knew more tears were leaking out of his eyes, but he didn’t care; he closed his eyes against them and waited for his body to hit the ground and blackness to take over.

He must have been halfway to the ground when something wrapped around his ankle and stopped his fall. ‘No! No, no, no, no, no! He’s not supposed to save me! He can’t save me! We’re enemies, and it isn’t even like he’s breaking his rule! I was killing myself!’ He mentally screamed at his Bat as he was lifted back up to the roof. His back hit the side of the building every so often, but he barely felt it as the (second) bottle of vodka he’d downed merely fifteen minutes ago finally numbed his body.

“You,” he muttered with depressed annoyance as he was pulled over the edge and set down in a sitting position. “You just couldn’t let me die. Why not?! Huh?! I have nothing left to live for, Batsy! You’re the only one who’s willing to save me, and now it’s for no real reason. You wouldn’t have broken your rule, I was jumping on my own! Why can’t you just forg-”

His depressed speech was suddenly cut off as his lips were covered by Batman’s. Shocked, he froze, not sure if this was some sick trick to just shut him up or if it was real. He couldn’t sit still for long, however, and he leaned into his Bat’s chest, returning the kiss wholeheartedly as he placed his hands lightly on his chestplate. He felt as Batman grinned against his lips and couldn’t help but pull away to see the rare sight.

Batman was still smiling as his clown pulled away; he could accept that he was in love with the murderer and that the murderer was in love with him.

Joker smiled back at his Dark Knight, then looked away as he realised he’d probably never get anything like this again. I mean, they were enemies. Right?

“Hey, look at me,” a smooth voice said. Joker knew it had been his Bat, but it wasn’t gravelly; it was familiar, though he didn’t know why. Looking up, confused, he opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by a gloved finger.

“Listen, Joker,” he started. Joker braced himself for the next words he knew he would hear. “I think I should get you off of this building just in case you got physically hurt or you decide to try again.”

Joker hadn’t been expecting that to be the next words, but he nodded. Batman lifted him with one arm before grabbing him around the waist. “Now, we could take the stairs, but it’s faster to fly,” the Bat smirked, giving his clown a slight squeezed before jumping off the building and using his free arm to guide them down. Joker felt the updraft of wind hit his face, but this time he wasn’t crying or falling. He was floating with a grin as he held onto his Bat’s arm.

They landed safely on their feet and Batman lead them to where his Bat Bike was waiting only a few blocks away. They hopped on, Batman in front and Joker on the back for the second time that week with his arms around his Bat’s waist, the dark cape being moved to the side. They sped off in the direction of the storage lot for Wayne Enterprises. Joker wondered what they were doing there when Batman likely knew where Joker was staying, but he didn’t say anything as he navigated inside the fenced in lot.

“Normally, I would’ve blindfolded you or something, but I have to doubt you’d do anything to hurt me at this point,” Batman informed him as he stopped before a group of large storage trailers. Joker was still getting used to the familiar smooth voice that was obviously the vigilante’s real voice.

“You could blindfold me anyway, I wouldn’t mind,” the clown teased, resting his painted chin on his Dark Knight’s shoulder. The latter glanced back with a smirk before slowly driving them forward and through the large door of one. The inside was dark for a split second before the floor began to drop down; Joker was amazed by how discreet the Batcave was made. No one would think to look in Wayne Enterprises.

It took only a moment for his amazement to be for the brightly lit, white room. He saw a desk covered with high-tech computers and televisions sitting in the center of the floor. To his right, a section of the wall rose up to reveal a dark garage-type space and he saw his Bat rolling his bike into the space before closing it.

“Alright, c’mere. I have to check for wounds, so take off your coat and jacket,” Batman instructed, motioning for Joker to follow him and sit at the desk. Joker did as he was told and looked around as Batman placed his two clothing items at the empty end of the desk. “Your shirt will have to come off, as well, so I can actually see if there are wounds,” he teased gently, his lips hovering just next to Joker’s ear.

The makeup-covered man felt a small shiver traveled up his spine as he unbuttoned his flashy shirt and folded it sloppily in his lap. The vodka was wearing off and he could feel fresh bruises on his back and a slight headache was pounding in his head.

“No bleeding, so that’s good,” Batman murmured as his fingers slid lightly around his clown’s back. He was shocked into momentary silence to see scars scattered across his skin, and that was only his back; he had to wonder what -or who- had happened to this man, besides himself. He stepped slightly over to Joker’s side to check his arms and head for any wounds he might have overlooked. There were less scars on Joker’s biceps, but the few that were there looked to be painful.

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?” Joker jested quietly, feeling the slight sensation of bare hands brushing over his skin. He suppressed another shiver as he realised his Bat was examining his other scars, the ones he could keep hidden. “I know it, uh, looks gruesome,” he swallowed quietly, pulling his arms quickly through the sleeves of his shirt and redoing the buttons.

“They suit you, Mr. Puts-his-own-life-in-danger-so-many-times-I’m-amazed-you’re-still-alive,” his Bat joked, resting his forearms over Joker’s shoulders.

Joker snorted but remained quiet as he leaned back into the armored chest of his Bat. He froze as the entrance opened again; his Bat stood up straight and blocked the view of his clown from the arriving newcomer.

“Alfred, how good to see you,” Batman greeted in his false voice. Joker heard quiet footsteps coming closer and he couldn’t help but panic a little as he thought of what this Alfred would think. ‘Oh, fuck! What if he’s already in a relationship with this guy?’

“Well, I didn’t see you back at the pe-”

“I’ve been busy,” Batman interrupted, gaining a suspicious look from his elderly butler. He motioned with his head that he had someone here, but didn’t move to reveal who it was just yet. “You remember when I had you look for where the Joker was? Well… Found ‘im!” His false voice had gone back to his normal one as he forced Joker’s chair around and moved to stand beside him as his clown waved nervously at the old butler.

“Uh, hi,” Joker greeted slowly, looking at his Bat and back to the nicely dressed, older British man a few times.

Alfred stood looking at the two for a heartbeat before he addressed his master. “If you’re going to bring you boyfriend to you cave, you could at least put a sock on the pod’s door,” he teased, giving Batman a smirk.

The caped man was stunned into silence by the statement as Joker laughed incredulously; the Bat smacked his shoulder playfully, causing his clown to let out an amused “Ow.”

Alfred shook his head and turned back to exit the cave, muttering something about young love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okie, so I’m gonna post the rest in a final post a.k.a. Part 3

I hope if you’ve made it this far you’re enjoying this. I’m honestly feeling giddy like I did when this was first written, so I hope it’s well received.

Please don’t copyright, it would be super mean.

#batjokes #batman x joker #the dark knight #tdk #tdk imagine #imagine #smut #lemon #fanfiction #oneshot #enemies

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noblechaton · 6 years

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Downpour

i’m not even really sure what this is besides ladrien trash lol. i guess i was just drabbling and it spun out of control so now i dunno what i wrote so uh, i’m just gonna toss it into the void lmao

AO3

---------------------------

“I knew it was supposed to rain-” Adrien quickly popped open his umbrella and hung it over Ladybug’s head. “But I didn’t think it was gonna get this bad. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t control the weather. As far as I know, anyway.” Ladybug chuckled, admiring the way rain dripped against her hand. “Besides, I...kinda like it.”

“It is pretty nice.” Adrien wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’ve always liked the way the river looks when it rains. It’s really...comforting.”

“Yeah.” Ladybug warmly smiled, glancing briefly out at the Seine and then up at him.

Her arm hooked around his and held him tight, more enamored by the way his face seemed to glow despite the dark, night sky and the darker storm clouds hanging above them.

Adrien kept his eyes on her, too, his heart started to feel lighter in his chest the longer he matched her loving gaze.

“I’m still glad we came out tonight. Even with the rain.”

“Me too.”

For a silent moment, the two considered staying where they were for the rest of the night. Warmly sharing each other’s company, and body heat, while cold rain dripped and splashed around them.

Such affectionate thoughts, however, were brought to an end with a loud crack of thunder.

“Er.” Adrien shook his head some. “We should...probably start heading back, soon. I don’t think either of us can really afford to catch a cold.”

“I don’t know.” A dim reflection of a lightning strike shined in Ladybug’s eyes. “It’d be fun, just taking care of each other for a few days.”

“You don’t have to get sick for me to do that.” Adrien warmly snickered. “Just gotta ask.”

“Okay.” Ladybug cuddled up to his side. “How about we make some chicken noodle soup when we get back, then? Y’know, just in case we do get sick.”

“Sounds good to me.” Adrien slipped his arm from her body and took her hand in his. “So long as you’re ready for the best chicken noodle soup you’ll ever have.”

“We’ll see about that.” Ladybug tightly held on to him while they started their walk back to his house.

-------------------------------------------------

“Jeez.” Adrien quickly shut the door behind him. “I didn’t think it’d get worse.”

“Guess I’m spending the night, huh?” Ladybug gave a wide smile.

“Guess you are.” Adrien happily agreed with a hug and tried to lay on the charm. “It’s always an honor to have you in my bed.”

“Phrasing, Agreste.” Ladybug snickered. “Unless we’re saving that soup for later.”

“Yeah, no, we, um, we’re still...” Adrien resigned to the crimson red on his face. “We’ll get that going once we get warm.”

“There you go.” Ladybug snuggled up close.

They stood at the entryway for a few minutes, simply holding one another and smiling through their embrace, gradually rubbing and squeezing on each other as a means to try and raise the temperature. Try as they might, however, the rainwater didn’t seem like it wanted to dry off.

“Um, actually,” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, knowing in advance just how bad what he was going to say was going to sound. “You should...probably get out of that suit.”

“My, Adrien, how bold of you.” Ladybug teased. “Was this your plan all along?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like,” Adrien stammered. “You’re just...wet. Not in that way, I don’t think, I mean, I’m wet, too, but-”

“I know what you meant.” Ladybug shushed his flustered nerves with a light giggle. “I just wanted to see you blush a little more.”

“Of course you did.” Adrien took a soft, relieved breath. “So, um, do you want any clothes to change into?”

“It’s probably better than walking around in wet underwear. From the rain, they’d be wet from the rain, since my suit got soaked and they might be wet, but...” Ladybug intentionally trailed her thought off.

“Phrasing,” Adrien couldn’t help but smirk. “Bugaboo.”

“Let’s just...get to your room before it gets any worse, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

---------------------------------------

“So,” Adrien rummaged through his closet. “Anything in particular you wanna wear? I’ve got all sorts of stuff in here. Haven’t cleaned it out in ages.”

“Got any really big shirts?” Ladybug leaned around him to better look at her options. “Like, an extra extra large t-shirt or something.”

“Hm…” Adrien tossed a few garments out until he seemed to stumble across something that fit her description. “How about this?”

He swiftly pulled a pink tinted shirt off the rack and held it up for her to see, though his eyes went a bit wide once he realized what was printed on the front of the shirt.

“I heart LB.” Ladybug read it aloud with a grin, snickering at the way the heart was colored red with black polka dots. “Isn’t that a tourist shirt?”

“Yeah, I, um…I just really liked the design.” He blushed. “And this was the last one they had in stock, so.”

“I bet it looks cute on you.” She cupped the side of his face and took the hanger from him.

“Not as cute as it’ll look on you.” Adrien smiled. “Er, um, right, pants. You’ll need pants.”

“Any sweatpants in there?” Ladybug asked after he ducked back into the closet.

“Uh…” Adrien thumbed through a few different racks. “I think they might be in the wash.”

“A closet that big,” Ladybug scoffed. “And you don’t have any sweatpants?”

“Hey, it’s been really hot out.” Adrien double checked a few hangers. “They probably got put somewhere else. Or in storage.”

“Alright, well” Ladybug held her chin. “What else do you got?”

“Hm, a bunch of the same pair of jeans, some really beat up basketball shorts-”

“Why do you have so many of the same jeans, anyway?”

“They’re part of an outfit. The outfit. Speaking of, you should see how many of the same shirt I have in here.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Anyway, uh, looks like the only other things are-” He stuck his head out with a notable tinge of red on his cheeks. “Some...boxers.”

“Oh.”

“Freshly washed,” Adrien held up two pairs with a nervous smile, one black with a dark green trim and the other white with a brighter green trim. “If that helps.”

“Uh.” Ladybug had a slight blush of her own at the mere sight of his underwear. “The, um, the black pair seems a little more poofy, so I’ll take those.”

“Alright.” Adrien handed them over and shut the closet door. “You should be all set.”

“Wait.” Ladybug somewhat anxiously bit at the corner of her lower lip. “I know this is gonna sound silly, but...do you have any masks?”

“Actually,” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and scrunched his face some. “There’s this costume party thing coming up, and...”

“And?”

“And...maybe I’m going in a Ladybug costume.”

“Again?” Ladybug giggled. “Haven’t you gone as me for most of these types of parties now? I know you’ve been doing it for the last like, five years, at least.”

“It’s a good look.” Adrien smirked.

“That’s fair.” Ladybug agreed. “You do look really good in red.”

“Exactly.” Adrien stepped towards the bathroom door with some replacement clothes of his own. “Just, gimme a sec to go grab the mask and change, I’ll be right back with the mask.”

“Take your time.” Ladybug smiled, snickering at him waving before he disappeared into his bedroom.

With a soft, loving sigh, she turned around and laid out the clothing they’d picked out on the counter. It wasn’t quite an outfit, or at least, not a very good one, but it was so very Adrien that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d worn such a combination in his spare time. The slightly worn nature of the shirt told her that much.

“Alright. Tikki,” She exhaled. “Spots off.”

A warm, pink glow illuminated the room for just an instant.

“Aw, don’t give me that look.” Marinette plead innocence to her Kwami. “It was...storming, like, really badly.”

“I understand,” Tikki gave her a caring, yet mildly concerned look. “But you’re making a habit out of this, Marinette.”

“I know.” Marinette’s head dipped down. “I just…”

Her sentence wasn’t allowed time to finish, as the sounds of footsteps rapidly approaching interrupted her thought.

“Hide!” She whispered and watched the Kwami zip around the shower wall in the nick of time.

There was a moment before he came back that she thought about greeting him like this, with no suit, mask, or any clothes at all, really. Sure, revealing herself to him in her underwear probably wasn’t the best way it could go, but the temptation was there. What better way to reveal your secret identity, right?

Whatever deliberations she had, though, faded away with the sound of the door creaking a little further open.

“I think you’re really gonna like this mask, it’s...” Adrien fell silent after taking little more than a step back into the room, awestruck at the sight of her back.

“Oh, er-” He realized he was staring by the time his eyes reached the straps around her shoulders and quickly covered his eyes. “Sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t see anything! I should have knocked!”

“It,” Ladybug let out a contemplative breath and dipped her head forward, throwing away the brief thought of letting him see her as she was. “It’s okay, just...give me a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah, um,” Adrien blindly tried to hand her the mask. “Here. It should, uh, fit you pretty well. One size fits all and all that.”

“Thank you.” Ladybug cooed, wrapping the string around her head and adjusting the mask. “You can open your eyes, by the way.”

“Are you sure, you’re down to your underwear. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but,” Adrien took a breath to keep whatever composure he still had. “Just. Okay.”

Slowly, he pried his fingers away from his face and was greeted by the exact sight he’d expected. Knowing what was coming, what was standing in front of him, however, didn’t stop him from blushing wildly.

“Wow.” Adrien picked his jaw up off the floor and shook his head, tying his best not to stare at her undergarments.

“Back at you.” Ladybug smirked, seeing that he was wearing little more than a fluffy white bathrobe. “I always did love that thing.”

“Yeah,” Adrien smiled back. “That might be why I grabbed it.”

“Anyway, I, uh,” He inched forward and dipped his head to hers. “I guess I should give you the room and go get that soup started, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ladybug gently grabbed at his robe and briefly slipped into a kiss, the scent and taste of rain strong on her lips. “I guess you should.”

“Don’t take too long.” Adrien teased.

“Mhm.” Ladybug warmly sighed through her nose. “I’ll be right out.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Ladybug #Ladrien #Noblefic #There's underwear mentioned/seen in this fic so be warned #i'm not even sure if this fic is real or if it's just a weird fever dream i'm having #honestly tho I can kinda see myself coming back to this story?? huh

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lalunaunita · 7 years

Text

Ladynoir July Day 21: Trusting

This is Runaway: Part 5

Read Runaway: Part 1 Read Runaway: Part 2 Read Runaway: Part 3 Read Runaway: Part 4

Adrien could have kicked himself for not putting two and two together sooner. He blamed it on the summer photoshoot schedule his dad and Nathalie had put together for him. His vacation from school had focused on two things: work and… well, being Chat Noir was work, too, a lot of the time. Any spare moment had been spent at the Cattery with Ladybug, or in related errands: picking up dinner for the two of them, finding a small dorm fridge so she could keep cold drinks, searching out a second-hand camp stove so she could cook a little.

The girl really was miraculous, he thought, remembering when she requested eggs and then managed to bake a delicious dessert for the two of them in her dutch oven, right there on an open flame. Adrien shook his head. Don’t get distracted. You’re angry, remember?

He paced his room, waiting for the sun to go down. There was hardly any traffic in the warehouse district Ladybug stayed in, but there was even less at night. They needed to talk seriously and he wouldn’t be surprised if he put her on the defensive. He was usually content to back down, seeing as how she was the tactician of the two in battle, but this was different. She was going back to her parents. He’d make sure of it. The moment the sun dropped below the horizon, Chat Noir leapt free of his narrow window and started the long trek across the city. His first clue about Ladybug’s identity had come a week ago, when Nathalie had taken a call for him from Marinette’s parents, looking for their daughter. Nathalie had spoken to them and later communicated the information to him, but something must have gotten lost in translation. He didn’t understand then that they’d been looking for their daughter for weeks, not hours.

It wasn’t until today, when Alya called in desperation, that he found out Marinette had run away from home. Alya started out calm and collected, but by the end of the call she was a sobbing mess of worry. She hadn’t bothered to try him earlier, she said, because he’d been working all summer and no one from school had seen him. It was a last ditch effort. No one could find a trace of Marinette. He could still see Alya’s fearful eyes on the phone screen. “I k-know you two aren’t all that close, b-but honestly, you could totally hide someone in your house. At least, Nino thinks so. You aren’t hiding her, are you?”

Adrien shook his head no, aghast. “I’d never do that to her parents - or you! I promise I would tell you if I knew where she was, Alya. I’m sorry I don’t have a lot of time, but I’ll try to help search, too. Keep me updated, okay?” The broken-hearted girl nodded curtly and cut off the call. Adrien had an odd moment of confusion as he pondered why Marinette’s disappearance felt so familiar. He sucked in a deep breath as the two halves of his life collided and coincidence became too improbable to ignore. “She’s Ladybug,” he said out loud to his empty bedroom. “What?” Plagg looked up from his tray of camembert on the sofa. “Marinette is Ladybug.” Adrien turned to his kwami and swiped both hands down his face with a sigh. Guilt hit hard as he realized the huge lie he had just told Alya. “The klutz? You’ve got to be kidding.” “Well, if I want confirmation, I suppose I could try to get a list of all the 16 year olds reported missing in Paris on the exact day she left. I was trying to respect her secret identity.” “So what does it matter? Ladybug asked you for help to run away. It’s what she wants. Knowing who she is doesn’t change anything.” “Yeah, it does, actually. I wish I’d thought harder about Ladybug having friends and family from the beginning. It… totally makes sense now why she’s been holed up in that little room and hardly gone anywhere. Her family - her whole support network is amazing. Now she’s only got Chat Noir. It isn’t enough. I’m not enough. She needs to go back home.” Plagg harrumphed and muttered something about fragile human emotions. “Plagg, you haven’t seen the change in her. She’s still good in a fight, but… it’s like all the color’s washing out of her. I know what this is. I fought to go to school because of it. She can’t take being lonely like this for much longer. And it’s not right, what she’s doing to her parents.” Adrien stared through the floor as he thought. “So what are you gonna do? Drag her bodily from that little room?” Adrien’s green eyes grew hard as he looked at his kwami. “We’ll start with talking.”

Ladybug started when she glanced at her window and saw Chat Noir sitting on the sill. How long had he been there? The daylight had long since gone and his black costume nearly melted into the night as he watched her with green glowing cat’s eyes. “Geez, Chat, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” She brought a hand dramatically to her chest. Ladybug was still wearing the “daywear” Tikki had concocted for her to keep her cool in the un-airconditioned warehouse - it fit like running shorts and a tank top, with enough ease to let her skin breathe, unlike what she now considered her “work suit”. Chat Noir was silent for another moment and she uneasily tried to gauge his expression. Then his face blossomed into a smile and she wondered if she had imagined the serious look in the half-dark. “Sorry about that,” he apologized, stepping into the room. “How was your day?” “Uneventful - after we took down that akuma, of course.” Ladybug smiled again, but still got the same weird vibe off of Chat when he was slow to smile back. “What’s up with my favorite Kitty?” Even that comment got no response as he stepped closer, coming into her space until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Ladybug fought the urge to step back. “Not much. I had a tough phone call with a friend earlier. It reminded me how hard it can be when no one is looking out for you.” Ladybug’s expression turned sympathetic. “Is that… what it’s like for you?” She shook her head, “Scratch that, pretend I didn’t ask. I don’t want-” “-me to reveal my identity. I know, Ladybug. But to answer your question, which is personal, not specific, yes, it was like that for me for a long time. It’s not anymore, in part because I have you, and in part because I have really good friends. It makes up for the missing pieces.” He held her eyes for a beat, searching them, but Ladybug couldn’t take his intense scrutiny. Instead, she dropped into her seat at the table, where her half-finished dinner sat. She faced her plate and picked up her utensils, avoiding his gaze. Chat Noir sighed and took the other seat. “Ladybug, you don’t know anyone else anymore. Can’t you tell me who you are?” He’d never pressured her so directly. Chat Noir felt absolutely certain of his knowledge, but he’d feel better if it came from her lips, her own admission. “No.” She didn’t even look up, slipping a bite of salad in her mouth. “No?” “No, Chat. This situation is temporary. I’m going to be Ladybug until I’m old and gray. In two years, it’ll be like this summer never happened. I can re-establish myself in Paris and no one can make me leave. We’ll be the same as before.” She still refused to look up, taking a sip of water to wash down her bite. Chat Noir rubbed the back of his neck. She had no idea how much that hurt, her desire to erase all the moments this summer had brought them. Even when she had no one else in the world, she still couldn’t bring herself to trust him. “Good God, you’re stubborn. Look, Marinette, I know it’s you.” Ladybug choked on her sip of water, face turning red and eyes streaming as her throat made little noises trying to cough it back out. Startled, Chat Noir jumped up and whacked her hard on the back. She finally emitted a cough and drew in a ragged breath, then coughed in earnest, doubling over the edge of her seat.

Chat Noir continued to slap her back until she filled her lungs up enough to splutter, “That-doesn’t-help!” before leaning over to cough some more. Unsure, he stood over her until the fit finally eased and she leaned back in her chair with an exhausted groan. “Tikki, spots off,” she said, clearing her throat roughly. A small red creature tumbled away as she transformed. Chat Noir stared in wonder at the girl before him. Of course it was Marinette. How had he never seen it? The final proof brought it home to him in a way his supposition hadn’t. No longer hypothesis, but proven theory. “Chat Noir, so good to see you!” Tikki enthused, bobbing toward him. “Marinette, you didn’t offer him dinner,” she chided, looking down at her chosen with a frown. “I’m good,” Chat Noir replied, holding up one hand. “It’s great to meet you, Tikki, but we’re not done here. Marinette, the friend that called me today is Alya. She’s falling apart worrying about you.” Marinette turned wide, stricken eyes up to him. “Alya?” she repeated in a hollow tone. “I never- I just- wait, how do you even know her? Did she contact you through the Ladyblog or something?” “The answer’s a lot more obvious than that. Plagg-” “No, wait! Please, I don’t want to endanger you or your family, Chat.” “It’s too late, Marinette. I can’t walk away knowing what I know. Plagg, claws off.” As a swirl of green light traveled up from his feet to ruffle his hair, Adrien watched Marinette, who had closed her eyes. For a second, he thought she might keep them closed out of stubbornness, but then he saw the silent tears that tracked down her cheeks. She blinked and her beautiful blue bell eyes snapped fully open when she saw his face. “Adrien? I can’t believe this. All this time…” “Yeah, I know. I was literally under your nose.” Marinette barely managed a smile in response. “Marinette, your family’s going crazy searching for you. Our whole class is looking. If I weren’t busy working for my father this summer, I’d have known a lot sooner. It’s ridiculous for you to think you could disappear from your life and then waltz back in two years later like nothing happened. It was ridiculous of me to go along with it. You’re hurting people, Marinette. I know that’s not Ladybug, and I know that’s not you.” Marinette’s face fell, her cheeks burning with shame. She rubbed her elbow as she stood before Adrien, trying to squeeze back tears. Oh, Alya… knowing how badly she’d wounded her friend was almost worse than knowing what her parents were going through. Marinette was a tangle of embarrassment and sadness… but relief was mixed in, too. No more pretending, no more bravery as she lay alone in the warm, quiet nights. She met his eyes, nodding assent. “Chat - Adrien, please take me home.” Runaway: Epilogue follows on July 28th!

#ladynoirjuly2k17 #llu writes #runaway #chat noir #miraculous ladybug

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dannyphantom-justiceleauge · 7 years

Text

The Crown of Fire

“Phantom! Watch out!”

Superman catches the iron beam inches from the glowing tip of Phantom’s nose. The ghost boy jerks back, eyes wide, and mouth parting in surprise. Clark can tell he hadn’t been at all aware of the danger, and it worries him. The ghost is always hyper vigilant of his surroundings, except when he gets overconfident, and the fact that he’d been so zoned out as to miss an I-beam flying straight at his face is more than cause for concern.

Clark takes a moment to launch the beam back at a small cluster of the ‘bots surrounding them, sending the whole group crashing through a crumbling concrete wall. The robots spark and die on impact. Clark turns back to look at the ghost, scanning up and down with normal and X-ray vision to make sure he isn’t hurt anywhere. Ghost physiology is weird, and Danny has bones as often as he doesn’t, but breaks are always clear. Nothing looks obviously hurt now.

Clark puts a cautious hand on the ghost’s shoulder, forcing neon green eyes to meet his. “Phantom, are you okay?”

Danny blinks. Clark can see him struggling to focus.

“Uh, yeah,” Phantom says, “yeah, I’m fine.”

He shrugs out from under Clark’s hand, wobbles a moment and then floats to compensate. “C’mon, let’s go kick some robot butt!”

He flies off to join Wonder Woman and Green Lantern, throwing precise bolts of ecto energy at the already-dwindling army of metal warriors.

Clark stays where he is, watching. He knows, objectively, that Phantom is already dead, has been for hundreds of years, but it’s hard to see past the fourteen-year-old face. The robots don’t pose much of a threat so much as they serve as battle fodder, a distraction; John will watch over the ghost kid for the remainder of the battle.

Clark waits as near silent footsteps approach, then he turns to look at Batman.

“He’s not alright.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow behind the mark. “No, he’s not. Come on. J’onn and I have triangulated Luthor’s signal.”

0o0o

“So, what’s with the costume change, little man? You lookin’ to send a message or you just get tired of your old digs?”

Phantom swats Flash’s hand away and turns, floating higher until he’s eye level with the speedster. The ring of Justice Leaguers standing by the Watchtower’s main console look over at the sudden calling of attention to the room’s latest elephant. Diana wanders over, eyebrows raised in open curiosity.

Danny reaches up and nervously adjusts the flaming crown hovering above his head. The fire isn’t hot, not to him, but he doesn’t want to find out if that applies to regular humans, even if they are super-enhanced.

“My coronation was last week,” he says.

“Coronation?!” Flash reels back in surprise, then flits around Phantom for a full look at the new crown. “Ya don’t say.”

“Congratulations,” Diana enthuses. Her smile sends cold, ghostly butterflies to his stomach and Danny blushes, acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on him.

“Yeah,” he says, putting his hands on his hips and projecting all the confidence he can muster, “turns out defeating the old ghost king puts you first in line to take his place.”

“This is great news, Phantom!” Diana says, taking one his hands in hers and holding tight despite the chill. It reminds him of how his mom would squeeze his hand when she knew he was nervous. He hopes it’s just a friendly congratulations thing and not a mothering thing. He thought the League was past seeing him as just a kid.

“You may finally be able to achieve acknowledgement of your people by the world’s governments!” Diana continues.

“Yeah, and get the ghosts to stop terrorizing Central,” Flash gripes.

Danny’s good mood vanishes at the reminder. He phases out of Wonder Woman’s grip, crosses his arms to dissuade her from touching him again.

“The ghosts won’t listen to me,” he says. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Then he vanishes.

Wonder Woman looks at Flash. Each seeing the other just as stunned, they turn to look at Superman. Clark shrugs. Behind him, Batman frowns.

0o0o

“Hey! Hey, kid! Kid!”

Phantom startles at the sudden hand on his wrist. He follows the leather glove up to meet the wide-eyed mask hiding Green Arrow’s identity. The man drops his hand before Danny can phase free, returning his fingers to a tight grip in his bow.

“Geeze, kid, lighten up a little; I don’t think this guy can take much more. He ain’t some super nut, he’s just a regular Joe Bank Robber. What, did he kick your ghost puppy or somethin’?”

Danny stares. Oliver will never admit how unsettled that gaze makes him; eyes like radioactive waste and too-pale features under colourless hair tinted emerald from the cold-burning fire of a floating crown. It’s creepy.

It’s also creepy how the kid (ancient kid, from what he’s heard), seems to shift from kneeling over the unfortunate robber’s body to standing without really moving.

“I stopped him, didn’t I?” the kid says.

Oliver watches him walk away, holding fast against the shiver that tickles up his spine, until the kid meets the wall of grateful bank-goers and disappears into thin air.

He looks back the body on the floor, the shallow rise and stunted fall of the man’s breathing, the blood gushing from a broken nose, the unnatural swelling of the poor bloke’s cheek and eye. He can’t help a moment of weakness, a small wince. He’s looking at overkill. Ollie had shot an arrow into the guy’s gun hand early on, he was out, and Phantom had still beat the snot out of him.

He looks to where the kid had vanished. Definitely creepy. Ollie resolves to avoid working with the ghost in the future if he can swing it. For now, he opens the comm. to the Watchtower and requests a quick pick up.

0o0o

“Nothing to serious, yet,” Batman reports. He taps a few keys on the console in front of him, brings up on the screen a recent picture of Phantom. “It started right after he got this,” he says, pointing to the flaming crown floating above the ghost’s head.

“Bollocks.”

Batman’s eyes narrow behind his mask. “What.”

“Oh, nothing! Just the bleeding Crown of Fire, ancient ghost artifact and all around pain in the arse.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, a few millennia ago it just sat there and looked pretty. But it’s spent several thousand years cooped up with a bloodthirsty tyrant after he was forced into a small box all eternity, and these ghosts, they’re all about emotions, mate. That thing’ll have absorbed a lot of rage and now it’s found an outlet in your pet ghost. You’ve got to get that thing away from him as soon as possible.”

“Tell me how.”

“If you’re lucky, you can just ask him. More likely, you’ll need to weaken him and pry it out of his cold, dead hands. I’ll look around, see if I have anything at the Mill that can help, but no promises.”

“Thanks, John.” Batman reaches to disconnect the video feed when-

“Wait, Batman-!” the screen goes abruptly black.

Batman whirls around, finds himself face to face with Phantom and a nearly identical copy. The scowl on the one wearing the crown causes Batman to tense. He leans back, tilting his chin up in silent challenge as he casually rests an elbow on the console. Consequently, his fingers hover over a sheath of batarangs in his utility belt.

“Phantom. There something you need?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact,” the copy on the right says.

“Tell me what you and Constantine were talking about,” the original demands.

“You’re sick,” Batman barges straight through the proverbial bush. “The Crown is controlling you. You need to take it off.”

“Hm,” the copy puts a hand on its chin, feigning consideration. “No.”

“Phantom-”

Batman jumps to a fighting stance as quickly as Phantom drops into readiness, one gloved hand wielding a bat shaped razor against a supernatural kid with fists lit up in glowing green. He knows they are both aware of the anti-ghost enhancements to his belt, both aware that Phantom can’t touch him. Too bad the kid is skilled in long-distance fighting.

Phantom breaks the standoff, firing a beam of super-cooled ectoplasm at the dark knight. Batman sidesteps, whipping the batarang at the ghost boy and pulling another. The conjured clone slams into him, shrieking as the belt lights it up in ecto-electricity. He expects Phantom to back off, but the clone reaches spasming hands around the knight’s waist.

Batman slams an elbow into the clone’s face, but it doesn’t let go. Bruce feels the clasp of his belt unhitch, the yellow leather falling away with the clone. Less than a second later, his breath catches as his lungs freeze. His limbs seize, there’s a voice in his head; he knows it’s bad but he can’t think past the ice in his brain. He watches his hands pick up the utility belt, feels his boots against the floor as his legs carry him to the elevator.

This is bad. If it wasn’t so cold, maybe he could fight back…

0o0o

“Careful, John,” Chas warns, just as the Zeta beam whisks the magician away.

Constantine finds himself facing the worried red eyes of the Martian Manhunter. It isn’t often after all, that the occult expert demands emergency transportation to the Watchtower. Completely unprecedented, in fact.

“You said the Watchtower may be in danger, “J’onn says.

“Definitely in danger,” John answers. He holds up what looks like a small shard of Kryptonite, waggles the rock and his eyebrows as the martian’s expression. “You’ve got a little ghost problem. I’d say, ‘Who you gonna call,’ but I already called you.”

The grin fades quickly and Constantine turns to the elevator. “Now let’s go catch us a ghost.”

Manhunter frowns but gleans what he needs from the thoughts John gives him access to. He mentally searches out Hawkgirl, calls her up meet them to the bridge. They may require the nth metal of her mace to incapacitate Phantom.

J’onn step aside as the elevator opens and Batman walks out. Constantine is skimming through a journal, but steps absently aside as well. He puts one foot into the elevator, pauses, looks up. J’onn can see his next breath in a plume of mist. The magician whirls around, eyes wide, hand reaching into his coat for the green stone.

“J’onn,” Hawkgirl soars around the elevator column, alighting on the walkway with her mace held ready. “What’s going on? You sounded worried-”

“Shayera, duck!”

Hawkgirl reacts to the tone before she fully registers the warning, bringing her mace up in time to block the boot aimed at her head. Batman pushes off from the mace, flips to land crouched and ready.

“Batman?! What-?”

She registers the green glow from his eyes at the same time J’onn does. The martian launches himself at Batman, twisting his form to something more snakelike to wrap the knight into a crushing hold. The ghost possessing Batman tries to phase out but J’onn counters by shifting his own density to match.

“J’onn!” Hawkgirl hesitates. She can’t get a good in with her mace with Manhunter so close, and she doesn’t really want to whack Batman in the first place. She glances over as Constantine runs up to stand level with her.

“Don’t worry about him, sweetheart. Look, I need your help.” He presses something that looks suspiciously like Kryptonite to the handle of her weapon. “Do us a favour and give Bats a good whack with your mace, eh? Knock Phantom right out of him.”

“Phantom?! He’s possessing Batman?”

“Eh, the Crown’s possessing him and he’s possessing Batman, so yeah. Now, go!”

Shayera lifts off, swooping over the struggle that’s moved from the walkway and crashed into the floor below.

Manhunter flinches, shrinking to his usual shape, and staggering away. Batman’s hands are glowing with Phantom’s usual green energy, and Hawkgirl swears she see the thin green outline of a flaming crown above his head. Batman flattens his hand and leaps.

‘J’onn, move!’ Shayera thinks.

Manhunter sinks into the floor and Hawkgirl attacks. Her mace lights with electricity just before she slams it into Batman’s stomach; he goes flying.

J’onn shoots from the floor, catches Batman’s waist and follows the momentum until he can safely lower the man to the floor.

Phantom crashes into the Watchtower’s metal wall hard enough to leave a dent. Hawkgirl watches with wary, worried eyes until she sees Batman breathe. Until she sees Phantom pry himself out of the cavity.

She readies herself as he shakes off the blow, holds her position until he flies at her, then swings. He dodges with a boneless twist, shoots an ectoblast. She bats it back at him.

“Hey!” The voice is mental but it doesn’t sound like J’onn. Shayera takes one precious second to glance down.

Manhunter is carefully examining Batman, bent over as he runs gentle fingers up and down the man’s chest. Halfway across the room from them is a chalk circle rimmed black-stemmed roses. John Constantine stands just outside the circle, waves at her.

“Get him in here.”

Hawkgirl nods. She looks back in time to dodge an energy-encased fist as Phantom swings at her. She kicks him, sends him several feet through the air. Something slams into her right wing and Shayera cries out in surprise as much as pain. She wrenches her wing free, spins to see another Phantom drop a handful of feathers.

Both Phantoms shoot toward her, and Shayera flies up. She drops a foot in surprise as punch lands square to the side of her face. Three?!

No, she realizes as she flips out of the path of another fist, there are five clones! Phantom’s never been able to make five clones before. He’s also never been this quiet before.

“Clones are cheating!” she hears John call from below her.

The clones circle her, she spins slowly in the air, tries to keep all of them in her vision. She notices something quickly: only one of them wears a crown. She attacks without warning, dropping her mace to swing by the cord around her wrist, and grabs the crowned Phantom by the shoulder, folds her wings. They drop like stones, her momentum sending them crashing right into John’s circle.

The effect is instantaneous. Phantom screams. The clones disappear. Shayera doesn’t feel anything more than blooming bruises as she hops to her feet and steps carefully out of the circle’s barrier.

Constantine steps into the circle. He stands over the writhing ghost boy, then leans down and plucks the crown from his head. He makes some complicated motion with gold-glowing fingers and the crown disappears. Then he slams his palms to the floor and the circle and flowers are gone too. The gold fades. Phantom settles into an exhausted slump on the ground, breathing hard.

“It’s over?” Shayera ventures to ask.

Constantine pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, doesn’t light it but sticks it in his mouth. “Should be.”

0o0o

“It’s called the Crown of Fire, you twats! It’s Ancient and fiery. Of course Phantom was gonna have a bad reaction to it, he’s got an ice core.”

“What would have happened, eventually?” Bruce asks, scowling up at Constantine from his bed in medical.

“Eventually? The fire would have burned out Phantom’s core and asserted itself in its new host. Luckily, we got it off in time. The worst he’s gonna get is a fever and one Hell of a post-possession hangover.”

“But he will make a full recovery?” Wonder Woman asks.

“Absolutely. And from now on, how about none of you wankers lets him mess around with ghost artifacts, eh?! I don’t want to be runnin’ up here every bloody week to perform an exorcism. I don’t get paid enough for that.”

“You don’t get paid at all,” Flash points out, “You’re not even a member of the Justice League.”

“Oh? What’s this then?” Constantine flicks a card at Flash, who snatches it out of the air and narrows his eyes at it.

“This is- Where did you get a membership card?” He looks back up, only to find empty air where Constantine had stood. Flash whirls around, holds the card out to the others, only to find his fingers are empty.

“Argh, I hate when he does that!”

“You’re just jealous he can disappear faster than you,” Bruce says. He’s sitting up, watching Phantom laying still in the next bed over. They hadn’t known what to do medically to help. The boy was dead, and Constantine assured them that he would heal in time. Very special, for a ghost, he’d said. They had no choice but to trust him.

I think this is my favorite king!danny fic ever omg -Nyx Edit: also constatine is one of my favs

#submission #dpdc fic #nyx things #story time #dpdc #dpjl

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