Welcome everyone to the Maribat Calendar Events May event dedicated to another facet of the fandom - the Super side!
May is our time of the year to celebrate the Kryptonians and both their romantic and platonic ships within the Maribat fandom.
Do one prompt, do them all - it's up to you and no pressure! Whether it's Marijon, Konette, Clarkette, Karette, biofamily, or even other rare pairs like Adrijon, we hope these prompts can give some inspiration.
Make sure you tag us so others can more easily see your work:
AO3 COLLECTION: Maribat SuperMari May
TAGS FOR BOTH TUMBLR AND AO3: #SuperMari May
BE SURE TO TAG THIS BLOG @MARIBAT-CALENDAR-EVENTS AND REBLOG SO OTHERS GET A CHANCE TO SEE TOO!
Come join us on discord: MLBxDC (Maribat)
Guidelines:
Any orientation or relationship style is welcome and encouraged (familial, platonic, romantic, aged-up NSFW)!
Any creative works (writing, fics, drabbles, head-canons, art, poetry, incorrect quotes, etc.) are accepted
Tag @maribat-calendar-events in your works so we can share it
Use the hashtag so others can see your work
Keep NSFW works under the ‘Keep Reading’ line with an appropriate warning above
Questions? Send us a message/ask, or contact @otome-wandering or @izanae
Get creative and have fun! We all look forward to your participation and submissions!
Let SuperMari May begin! First prompt is Meet Fail
@maribat-calendar-events
AO3
PinkFrenchMarigold: I can't believe I get to come to meet you in person at last! Are you sure your dad doesn't mind me staying for a couple of days?
HortonsCoffeeFiend: please Mari, he might not even notice you're there
PFM: pfft, whatever you say, Timbit. Still good to meet me at the airport?
HCF: 👍 absolutely! I'll bring the coffee and doughnuts
PFM: my hero! Going dark, see you in 10 hours or so 🫶
*_____*
Marinette put her phone away, setting it to aeroplane mode before relaxing into her first class seat. She hadn't been sure she wanted to spend that much on the flight but Alya had convinced her that she would want the extra leg room and privacy. And now that she was settling into the chair, she could admit that it was absolutely necessary.
Pulling out her sketchbook, she let her mind wander as she sketched out a design for a new line of hero inspired clothes. The main duo of the Parisian team, Scarabella and Chat Noir, were joining the Justice League that day and it meant that other people might want merchandise of the team. She'd been designing little bits for a long time, but now she would be able to market it to a wider audience.
Mullo peeked out of her purse after the first hour of the flight and Marinette pulled out some cheese cubes, scattering them on the tray table. The tiny mouse Kwami grinned and began nibbling immediately. It was crazy to think she had been part of the team that took down Hawkmoth' and she was a little sad that she wasn't going to be introduced to the Justice League.
She shook her head at herself. She was moving across the world, meeting her online friend in person for the first time, and it wasn't like any of the rest of the team were joining yet either. Maybe once she was settled in Gotham she could talk to Alya about bringing her into it, but for now she was going to focus on being Marinette.
She smiled as she checked the time and decided to try and get some sleep.
_ _ _
The mood on the WatchTower was fairly relaxed and Kon watched as his best friend updated his notes on the Parisian team. They were due to arrive any minute and, because they were presumed to be the closest in age to them, Kon and Tim were supposed to be part of the welcome party.
“I thought you were supposed to be busy today,” he said when he thought Tim was less distracted.
“Yeah, I will be, but right now I'm okay for time. My friend doesn't land for another few hours and we should be done with plenty of time to spare for me to get to the airport,” Tim shrugged, saving his files and standing.
“I can't believe you have an online civilian friend that you invited to Gotham. Wouldn't it have been smarter to go to them?”
“Maybe if she hadn't been stuck in Paris for the past few years. Besides, I'm locking her up in the manor for a bit until I can tell if she can handle herself.”
“That would be really concerning if I didn't know you,” Kon laughed, his grin turning roguish in the next moment. “And when do I get to meet your online friend? Maybe I can come and introduce myself while she's locked up in whatever tower you choose for her.”
“Ha ha, funny. Marigold doesn't need another target on her back, it's bad enough that I'm probably going to have to keep her safe from Rogues. I don't really want to have to worry about Lex on top of all that.”
“Fine, I'll have to meet her when you don't have her locked up I guess.”
“Don't you have an off-world mission to get ready for?” Tim asked, sounding annoyed. Kon grinned widely, pleased that he'd managed to get under his skin so easily. He was fairly sure Tim was in love with his online friend, so he hoped she was everything she seemed. Tim deserved to be happy.
_ _ _
Adrien was excited to meet some of the Justice League, he just wished Marinette could be there with them. He knew why she wasn't, even agreed that it should just be him and Alya to begin with, but he still missed his best friend.
“What do you think they'll be like?” He asked when they were waiting at the Paris Zeta Tube to be escorted in. “Multi seemed to think this was a good thing, but she didn't want to come up so…”
“You know she was busy,” Alya said. They were prevented from continuing their conversation by the Zeta Tube lighting up and Wonder Woman stepping out to greet them. They exchanged hellos and then they followed the older heroine into the tube and up to the WatchTower.
“Oh my god, that's Batman,” Adrien said in a hushed voice as they entered the meeting room. Alya looked like she was barely containing a fangirl squeal as Wonder Woman joined Batman and Superman. “Uh, hi, nice to meet you. I'm Chat Noir, this is Scarabella.”
“Well met,” Wonder Woman said, smiling at them both. “Congratulations on defeating your villain, I'm sure it's a relief that Gabriel Agreste will no longer be terrorising your city.”
“It is,” Alya said, actively working not to look at Chat. He knew this because she was tense as a taut wire and he forced down the nausea that came with the knowledge that everyone knew it was Gabriel that had done it. That the man he had called a father was the reason most of his friends had been akumatised and the reason he had died more than once.
Shaking away the bad thoughts, they were formally inducted into the Justice League and introduced to a few heroes that were similar ages to them. Once that was all complete, Superman informed them cheerfully that they were expected at a few upcoming meetings and that support was available through the trials and any further investigations for Hawkmoth.
Adrien found himself relaxing completely once the big three were gone, leaving him and Alya in the care of Red Robin and the elder Superboy. It all seemed to be going well until Superboy started to quiz them on the rest of their team. Red Robin seemed to get frustrated and embarrassed on behalf of his friend.
“Do you think you'll bring the rest of your team up some time?” Superboy asked, and Red Robin looked like he wanted to hit him. “I thought you were going to bring everyone up here at once. Weren't there, like, fifteen of you?”
“Something like that,” Alya said breezily. “But most of them are retired now and the others…they have their own lives to get on with. If any of them want to come up, we'll let them know that they're welcome but I don't want to pressure them at all. Hawkmoth wasn't really a barrel of laughs.”
“So long as they know they're welcome, that's cool,” Red Robin said, shooting Superboy a look that said ‘shut up’ that even Adrien could read through the mask.
“Maybe one day we'll get our strategist up here, she's a goddamn powerhouse,” Adrien said, grinning as he thought about Marinette.
“Yeah, but is she hot?” Superboy asked cheekily, and Adrien thought he understood why Red had been getting annoyed. He wondered if Superboy flirted with many heroes.
“Oh, like a supernova,” Alya nodded sagely. “But also not interested in dating a hero so you're out of luck I'm afraid.”
“Guess I'll just have to try my luck with Red's friend then,” he smirked, leaning back in a chair so far it rested on two legs.
Adrien gave a bark of laughter when Red Robin kicked his chair out from under him.
_ _ _
Tim was not running late. He knew that it was more than likely that Mari’s flight would land on time but then customs would be a nightmare, so he was comfortably on time, he was sure. Besides, the coffee would get cold if he arrived too early, so getting there slightly after wasn't a bad thing.
But luck was not on his side because as he pulled up, he got a notification that a B-list rogue was trying to hold up the airport. Damian had already confirmed that he was nearby and would be expecting Tim to be suited up by the time he got there.
“Good, it appears that Condiment King is attempting to rob the passengers of the flight from Paris for some reason. We should do some reconnaissance and then plan accordingly,” Damian said when Tim arrived in costume.
“Fine, you head left, I'll head right and we'll meet at the back of the room to discuss strategies,” Tim said curtly, focusing on getting this done as soon as possible.
As they circled to the back of the room, Tim spotted one of the passengers slipping away and heading into a corridor marked ‘Employees Only’. It was a young woman in a pink hoodie and grey jeans, worn sneakers on her feet. Very notably not an airport employee. She must have abandoned her luggage except for a small bag on her shoulder. He lost sight of her momentarily when she turned a corner but he could hear her murmuring urgently. Perhaps she had been on the phone?
“Mullo, get squeaky!” Said the voice, and Tim froze. What on earth did that mean? And then a light flashed and when he turned the corner the young woman he had spotted was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a superheroine in grey and pink stood there, two buns atop her head and a skipping rope tied around her waist. She gave a squeak when she turned and saw Tim, hand flying to her rope. “Uh, oh, you must be one of the local heroes, right? Red Robin, unless I'm mistaken. Hi, I'm Multimouse! Want a hand?”
“...sure, why not.”
Rounding up the goons took minimal effort between Tim, Damian and the new hero. She wasn't seen by anyone else but she was capable and strategic, following Tim's orders and offering insightful suggestions that sped things along. When it was over, she vanished with a quick salute in his direction, smiling brightly.
“She was…not horrendous,” Damian said stiffly. It took Tim by surprise because that was practically a compliment coming from him. “Hadn't you better go and find your friend? On the off chance that you have not been cat fished, she must be rather perturbed by the attack.”
“Thanks Robin, I'll see you back at base,” he acknowledged, changing back to his civilian clothes in record time. He grabbed the cups of coffee and the box of doughnuts, and headed for the arrivals.
Looking around, he held the box as visibly as he could, checking his phone. He sent a picture of the doughnut box and flipped the camera to show his line of sight and hoped that was enough for her to find him. He was staring at the check marks to see if they changed colour when someone stopped in front of him. He glanced up and was met by the woman he knew had to be Multimouse. He froze for a fraction longer than felt comfortable, until she broke the awkwardness.
“Tim? Or, uh, whatever your real name is, HortonsCoffeeFiend,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice giving away her nerves. He was a little astounded that she was nervous to meet him when she had been completely calm during the fight.
“Oh, uh, it actually…yeah, my name's Tim. Tim Drake,” he said, feeling a little smug when she laughed. “What about you, Marigold? Or would you rather I just keep using that?”
“Marinette, actually,” she said with a bubbly giggle. “That's so crazy, what were the odds I would have picked your actual name? You look like you would know that sort of thing.”
“Rude,” he said, holding out her coffee cup. “Sorry, it's probably a little cold now. But welcome to Gotham! As much as it sucks that you got caught in an attack, it's really…kind of common. Not how I pictured this meeting going though,” he added glumly.
“Yeah, I thought I'd get at least a couple of days in before I experienced one of your villains,” she agreed, accepting the coffee and taking a sip. Upon finding that it was more than a little cold, she grimaced before chugging it back. “Hmmm, not too bad. At least it's caffeine.”
“I'll get you a hot one another time,” Tim promised, reaching to take her bags. She shared them with him and chattered happily as he led her to his car. “I should probably warn you, my house is kind of…manic. And big.”
“That's fine, I won't stay too long. Thanks for offering me a space, I really didn't want to get an apartment without seeing it in person. Plus, I couldn't come to Gotham without meeting my online coffee bestie.”
They lapsed into silence when they were seated, Marinette opening the doughnut box and offering it to him first. They got through the box of half dozen fairly quickly and he laughed when she licked her fingers clean.
“I take it you want a serviette or something instead,” she mused, pulling napkins out of her purse.
“Sure would, thanks,” he said, accepting them without taking his eyes off the road.
“Would you be up for hitting a drive-thru or something? The doughnuts were nice and all, but I think I need something more substantial.”
“Sure, why not,” he agreed, mentally figuring out where the closest drive-thru was and how to get there. Which was probably why he missed the sharp look she sent his way.
Once they had more food, Marinette seemed to be mulling something over. She ate quickly and was done well before they pulled up at the manor. But where most new arrivals gawked at the massive building, Marinette was studying him. He cocked his head, wondering what the problem was, when she groaned and hit her head onto his dash.
“Uh, are you okay?” He asked, nervous suddenly. He knew the manor was intimidating, but-
“Oh, yeah, just peachy thanks. Just wondering if you know the odds on us both having secret identities,” she said, tone flat.
Jon pursed his lips as he studied the list in front of him, his brow furrowing deeper the longer he stared at it. There was a pattern there. He knew there was. Something linking the names on the list. Something he hadn’t managed to figure out even after endless hours staring at the company names, running down investors, calling ex-employees, scouring the internet for scandals. It was getting damned frustrating.
Jay hadn’t had any more luck with the list than he’d had, and Jay had been working on the story a lot longer than Jon had been. Weeks. Weeks of focused investigation had yielded a lot of results, but nothing conclusive. Nothing they could splash across the front page of the Daily Planet. Nothing that would lead to the convictions that he knew were forthcoming. If they could figure out the pattern.
It was there… somewhere.
He was shocked out of his focus by his phone and answered before the first ring had completed. “This is Jon,” he intoned mindlessly, still staring at the list.
The responding snort finally brought his attention away from the list for the first time in so long, his vision was starting to cross. “I guess I called the right number then,” she chuckled.
“Hey, Starlight,” he sighed and instantly returned his attention to the list. It wasn’t investors. It wasn’t ex-employees. It had to be…
“Hey, Mon rêve,” she cooed. “Where are you? It’s getting pretty late.”
“Hm? Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” he answered absently. “I’m still here with Jay.”
“Wait. Really?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side to stare at the list. Maybe that would give him a new perspective. He was pretty sure if he stared any harder than he had before, his laser vision would activate. “Jay has been following a lead for a few days and asked this morning if I could help. We are doing some research to hopefully get a direction.”
“So…” she started, her tone was careful, measured. If Jon had been a bit more aware of anything outside of the list, it would have set the hairs on the back of his neck on edge, especially contrasted with the adoring tone microseconds before. “…you're staying there. You're not going to join me? You're going to stay there... with Jay.”
“Yeah, sorry, can't join you tonight.” He paused to look over their desks full of documents, binders of reports, and endless Post It notes marking random thoughts in their glaring color. It should be overwhelming, but it just excited him. This story wasn’t just important, it could make a major difference, to Metropolis and him. “I think this could really be something,” he gushed almost breathlessly. She was silent for a few beats too long; long enough Jon noticed she hadn't responded yet. “Mari?”
It was another few beats of loaded silence before she responded. “Yeah, I thought it could really be something too.”
He frowned at the phone. “Hey, you okay? You sound a bit off.”
The silence was more concerning than any response she could give. If it took that long to respond, there clearly was something wrong. He almost waved Jay off when he jutted his laptop in front of his eyes, but the insistent look in Jay’s eyes made him reconsider. “I just thought we could spend time together today celebrating,” she finally answered.
“Oh? Celebrating what?” he asked distractedly, flicking his fingers through the document Jay had just found; property listings.
She let out a mirthless huff of a laugh. “Nothing. It doesn't matter.”
“No, I'm sure it does,” he insisted instantly, though it was clear in his voice his attention was still elsewhere. “I'll see you tonight and we can talk.”
“I wanted to dig up property records for the rest of the organizations,” Jay piped up. “If we can get a listing tonight, we can look into their ownership history tomorrow. Maybe make some inquiries.”
“Oh! That’s a good plan. Yeah.” He looked at the list again and let out a breath at the length. “This is going to take a while.” It wasn’t until he had reached for his laptop that he remembered he was still holding a phone and supposed to be talking to Marinette. “Sorry! Tomorrow,” he promised quickly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Right,” Marinette scoffed.
He paused and turned away from Jay to give himself a bit of privacy. “Are you upset I'm hanging out with Jay? Mari, you know we just work together. There's nothing to worry about.”
“Right,” she repeated.
This time, Jon took note of her tone. It wasn’t one he associated with her. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever heard her speak that way before. It was hollow, defeated, and so very wrong. “Don’t be like that, Starlight. You're being ridiculous.” He shook his head, exasperated at her reaction. They needed to talk about this, clearly, but he didn’t have time tonight. “Look, I have to go. We'll talk about this later, okay? Love you.”
She hung up without responding, leaving him staring at the phone in confusion. He let out a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. She was upset. Clearly. But this was time sensitive. They needed to get this research done tonight so they could jump on City Hall tomorrow.
Would he have loved to spend the night with her? Of course he would! He would spend every night… and day with her if he could. But this was the life of a reporter, not to mention a hero. He needed to be able to spend a night in the office with a coworker from time to time. When he was working on a story, it might even be days. Hell, his mom had slept on her office couch every night for a week before.
And, he huffed mentally, Marinette didn’t really have standing to complain. She regularly got caught up in design dazes and would end up in her studio for the entire night. More than once, he had to track her down to her studio and drag her home. She had no right to be mad at him for doing the same thing she did constantly.
It was particularly strange because he had worked late into the night on stories, or been away unexpectedly for a mission, and she had been extremely understanding. But this time…
“Hey, I think I found something!” Jay called, drawing Jon out of his spiral.
Jon was at Jay’s side looking over his shoulder in a microsecond. This was it! This was the link they’d been looking for all day. He could feel it.
They got lost in digging up all the information they could, so focused, he’d completely lost track of time. Gun to his head, not that it would do anything, but it’s the sentiment that counts, he couldn’t tell you how much time had passed since he’d spoken to Marinette when his phone rang again, but it was at least long enough for them to have gathered the bulk of the property listings for the names on the list. And at some point Jay had drifted off to the break room to get them yet another cup of godawful black coffee.
They hadn’t done a deep dive yet, looking for the hidden assets, but there was a lot of night left… maybe. He really needed to check a clock.
He checked the ID and furrowed his brow in confusion for just a second before answering. If he knew her, and he did, she would just keep calling until he answered. “Hey, Kara. I’m a bit busy right now. Can I call you back another time?”
“Yeah, I know how busy you apparently are, dumbass,” she growled into the phone. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He jerked back in surprise. “What? What did I do now?” It took a few moments for his mind to register the situation and recall his previous conversation. “Oh, did Mari call you?” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Is she that upset I'm working with Jay. This is insane. She's best friends with Adrien and regularly hangs out with Luka and Vic and I can't even work with Jay? I can't believe...”
“What day is it?” she cut in, saccharine sweet in a way she had never actually embodied.
The tone caught him off guard. It was, quite frankly, a bit creepy coming from her. “What?”
“What day is it?” she repeated, the sweetness bleeding from her tone.
It was a trap, he knew it was, he just for the life of him couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to trap him into or why she was laying it. Working late one day didn’t warrant the effort at entrapment. Nothing made sense. “Thursday,” he answered slowly. It felt like it wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was the correct answer.
“The date, you dimwitted pudding socket!” she hissed. All pretenses of sweetness were completely gone. Her hostility was fully out.
“Dimwitted… what the heck, Kara?”
“What. Is. The. Date,” she repeated, carefully enunciating each word, punctuating the final syllable like they were weapons.
He could hear her teeth gritting through the phone without even having to use his super hearing. But more than that, he could hear the disappointment, which again, didn’t make sense. It was one night. “It's May...” he trailed off as the realization hit and Marinette and Kara’s reactions finally made sense. “Oh...”
“Yeah,” she concurred bitterly, “oh.”
“Oh, fuck.” If anything, Marinette’s reaction was subdued. She should have yelled. She should have screamed. She should have raked him over the coals for forgetting their anniversary.
“Yep,” she agreed popping the p.
“Oh no,” he lamented, running his hand through his hair and tugging painfully on it. “No, no, no. No, fuck. Is she still at the restaurant?” The question was essentially perfunctory, he was moving before she responded. But her response stopped him in his tracks, yet again driving home the level of fuckupary.
“Is she still at the restaurant you had a reservation for hours ago and you left her sitting alone waiting for you?” she scoffed.
“No! What time is it?” He whipped his head around looking for the damned clock that he should have checked when he talked with Marinette. His heart dropped at the sight. It was in fact hours after he was supposed to meet her. Hours! And he hadn’t talked to her. Hours for her to stew and spiral and start thinking the worst of the situation. “Fuck! Where is she?”
There was a pause before she spoke, and Jon could picture her narrowing her eyes, leaning back, and cocking her hip as she prepared to answer. “She is somewhere she doesn't want you to find her.”
“Fuck! No, Kara,” he pleaded. “No, I need to talk to her. I need to fix this. I need to...”
“That's a lot of I's for someone who is just fucked up so royally,” she chided harshly. “It isn't about what you need right now, is it?”
He groaned and ran his hand through his hair again. He needed to do something he couldn’t… he couldn’t lose Marinette. The very idea of not being able to go home to her gutted him. But the idea of Marinette thinking that he blew her off, that he didn’t love her with his entire soul, felt like a kryptonite knife to the heart. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he agonized. “How do I fix this if she won't talk to me, Kara. What do I do?”
“I would suggest massive groveling,” she offered, her false sweetness back though not quite to the level it had been before. “Flowers and fabric aren’t going to fix this.”
“I need to apologize to her face,” he announced as much to himself as her. He stood up straight as determination flowed through him. He was going to find her and talk to her, beg her, plead for her to understand. He was an idiot, but he was a devoted, utterly lovesick idiot. “Where is she?”
“No.” Flat but solid. She used no emotion, just raw steel.
“Kara, where is my girlfriend?” he growled.
“Gone. And you need to consider what you're going to do to make sure it isn't permanent,” she snarled before hanging up.
“Kara? Kara!” Frustration inundated his voice. “How do I make sure it isn’t permanent if I can’t talk to her?” he screamed into the void. “I know you can hear me!”
He immediately called Marinette, which in retrospect, he acknowledged, he should have done as soon as he realized he’d missed the date. He clenched his hand into a bouncing fist as he waited for her to answer, pacing a tight circle, and he almost started apologizing when he heard her voice. It took a few seconds to realize it was the start of her voicemail, not her.
But he wasn’t going to be deterred so easily. She was angry, frustrated. She didn’t like to answer the phone when she was frustrated with someone. He knew that. He should have anticipated it. Instead, he sent off a few anxious texts, not able to wait more than a few seconds before sending the next text. When she didn’t answer those after a full minute, he couldn’t force himself to wait any longer and tried calling again, but it went straight to voicemail. Meaning she was either instantly rejecting the call or she’d blocked him.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, fighting the urge to throw his phone. If he allowed his anger to overtake him now, he would lose his only means of communication if she did decide to respond… and he’d probably tear a hole through the wall and possibly the next… and all the walls in the next building.
Jay came careening around the corner, the coffee mugs in his hands sloshing over the rims and spilling onto his shirt unnoticed. “What? Did something happen? What’s wrong?” he questioned frantically.
“I… fuck!” Jon yelled again. He kicked an exposed steel support beam that at this point luckily was merely decorative, because it crumpled instantly.
“Woah, hey, you have to take a breath,” Jay urged. He set the coffee down and approached Jon cautiously. “You’re going to destroy the building. What is going on?”
“I…” he moved toward something else to hit but Jay stepped in front of it with a concerned but firm look and Jon deflated entirely. He collapsed onto the floor, head in hands. “It’s our anniversary. I… I missed our anniversary. We had a night planned. I… she waited at the restaurant for me.”
Jay crouched down next to him in an instant. “What?” he gasped. “It’s your… What are you doing here!”
“I forgot,” he moaned. “I got caught up and…”
“Jon…” he cut in his voice firm again. “Why are you still here? Go fix it!”
Jon shook his head despondently. “She doesn’t want to see me. She has made that abundantly clear.”
Jay scoffed. “She’s mad. Justifiably. You forgot a really important date for your relationship to hang out with an ex. Fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it. But, what? You’re just going to slink away, tail between your legs? You’re not going to fight? Beg? Fly up to the moon and bring it back for her?”
Jon glanced up at him, his eyes welling as he did. “If she wanted. I’d give her anything she wanted. And what she wants is space.”
“Is it?” Jay demanded. He wasn’t giving any space for self-pitying. It was time to act, not wallow. “I don’t know man, if you aren’t even willing to fight for her, I don’t know if you deserve her. She’s hurting right now. You’re going to let her do it alone?”
“No! Never,” Jon exclaimed, affronted by the very suggestion that he would ever, ever leave Marinette to suffer alone.
“So…” Jay prompted. He grinned as a determined look came over Jon. “I’ll continue on my own. We can pick this up on Monday… or Tuesday. The evidence isn’t going anywhere. You go get your woman and fix your future.”
Finding her wasn’t as difficult as Kara made it out to be. After he excluded their place and Kara’s place, she was in the next place he looked, which would have been the first, but Kara’s comment had thrown his instincts off. So, either she wasn’t as adamant that she didn’t want him to find her as Kara had indicated or Marinette just was too upset to think logically and was thinking emotionally instead.
Jon took a deep breath to fortify himself before knocking on the door. The night was going to be rough, and it was completely his fault. He had done this to them. He’d stood her up and forgotten their anniversary. She’d even prompted him to remember they were supposed to be celebrating and he blew her off. God, she must think he didn’t care about her at all.
He was so lost in his self-deprecation; he missed the sounds of someone approaching the door until it had already been opened, an imposing, hostile figure glowering at him. “What do you want?” Adrien snarled.
Jon flinched at the venomous tone from the normally friendly, gregarious man. He steeled himself and met Adrien’s eyes. “To talk to my girlfriend.”
“Oh, she’s worthy of your attention now, is she?” he sneered.
“Of course she is. She always is.” Jon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wanted to argue with Adrien, to point out all the times she’d been the center of his attention, all the times he’d put her needs and interests above his own because he knew she did the same. But it wasn’t the right time for that argument. He needed to speak with Marinette, to make her feel his devotion, not waste time arguing with her best friend. And if it meant letting Adrien take out his protective wrath on him uncontested, that’s what he would do. “Look, I screwed up, I know that. Please let me fix this,” he begged.
Adrien stared him down for a few long moments, not breaking his intense eye contact, clearly enjoying the way it made Jon squirm. But finally he grumbled something that might have been a word, or just a sound to make known his extreme discontent, and let him in grudgingly. Just as Jon was about to pass him, he held his arm up to stop him. “You get this one chance. You screw this up, I won’t need kryptonite to end you, but you’ll wish I had.”
Jon met his eyes again, letting an understanding pass between them and nodded. “Noted.”
He thought he couldn’t feel any guiltier or worse about himself, but the moment he saw Marinette, he knew he was wrong. He could feel so, so much worse. She was slumped on the couch, empty tumbler in her hand, staring absently at nothing. Her eyes were red and puffy and even from his distance and without using enhanced vision, he could see the still wet tear tracks, her ruined mascara highlighting their trail.
Desperate not to make her feel worse, he approached her cautiously, slowly. While in the past, he’d enjoyed ambushing her by appearing in front of her in the blink of her eye, surprising her and possibly shocking her into a violent reaction was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment. He could tell the moment she noticed him. She didn’t acknowledge him outright, but he could hear the way her breathing changed and the way her body tensed just before she sat up and refilled her glass.
The liquid slopped out of the bottle, splashing as much on the coffee table as in the glass and Jon rushed forward to steady her hand. It was instinct. He saw her in need of assistance, and he acted. It wasn’t until she flinched away that he realized his assistance may not be welcome in that moment and perhaps he was the very reason she was in need of assistance. His heart squeezed painfully at the realization, tearing the breath from his lungs.
“Hey Starlight, what are you doing?” he asked gently. He sat next to her, close but still giving her space, and angled his body so he could face her.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, not quite willing to grace him with her gaze, and took a long drink before answering. “You forgot about our anniversary,” she answered her voice forlorn.
“I know,” he admitted guiltily. “I…”
“I wanted to too,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him at all.
He could have sworn he didn’t have any more air left in his lungs, but her tone and the agonized look in her eyes, made his chest feel like it was in a vise forcing all air out in a rush. “No, baby…” he begged miserably.
“I’m not your baby anymore,” she shrugged, still not meeting his gaze, her eyes returning to the blank spot in the distance.
“Baby, Starlight,” he pleaded. He moved a step closer to give him better access to wipe away her tears and caress her face. The need to touch her was visceral. He needed to feel her and make her feel his love, look at him. But at the last second Kara’s words rung in his head. It wasn’t about him. He redirected before making contact and instead laid his hands on either side of her knees. “You will always be mine.”
Sloppily, she shook her head. “I’m not. You don’t love me anymore.”
It was said with such certainty that he could feel it in his soul. “Starlight, I love you more than anything…”
“I’m not important to you. You can’t love someone you don’t think is important. You don’t put in effort. You don’t care.” Any emotion that had crept into her eyes when he first approached her, drained completely, giving the impression of a haunted house, empty and seemingly abandoned, but with hidden secrets fiercely protected. “You forgot,” she finished desolately.
It was over. He could see it. She was done for the night. Nothing he or anyone else said would make it through to her. Nothing but time and rest and a whole lot of sobering would make a difference. He would just have to hope she got that overnight and then pray to whatever deities that might listen, that in the morning, she would let him apologize. “Marinette,” he started earnestly, tenderly, “you are by far the most important person in the world to me. Let’s get you to bed and we can talk in the morning, okay?”
She shrugged, or at least gave a rough, loose approximation of a shrug. “I don’t believe you,” she mumbled, almost incoherently. “I want to.” She glanced over at him with watery eyes. “I want to, so much. But I don’t.”
What was left of his heart shattered into neutron sized pieces. He couldn’t believe how badly he had messed it up. He didn’t know what he was going to have to do to fix it, but whatever it took he would do. Whatever she needed… tomorrow. He reached up and gently cupped her face, his thumbs softly wiped away her tears. His heart mended slightly when she nuzzled into his hands. “I will do everything I can to change that, I swear that to you. But let’s get you to bed and sleep.”
“Okay,” she slurred, but made no sign of moving other than to lift her now empty glass to her lips then frown at it, after a few beats.
He sighed and looked over to Adrien. He would fly her home but at this point, he was worried there was no way she’d make it without feeling absolutely terrible and likely throwing up… a few times. “Can she stay here tonight?”
Adrien scoffed and headed over to her. “You don’t even have to ask.”
Before Adrien could make it over to them, Jon had already picked her up as gently as possible so as not to shake her and cause her head to spin or nausea. “But I do have to ask if I can stay,” he pointed out tentatively. “I can take the couch,” he added quickly. “I just… really want to be here when she wakes up.”
Adrien sighed and softly stroked Marinette’s hair as Jon carried her past. His eyes never left Marinette as he responded, “You don’t have to either. You two come as a package.”
Jon breathed out a sigh of relief. “God, I really hope we still are.” He gave Adrien a nod at his shoulder pat and carried her back to the guest room they’d stayed in together many times before. It felt strange knowing this time he wouldn’t be welcome. They’d always stayed together, squeezed together pleasantly in the entirely too small bed.
Her even and rhythmic breathing seemed to reverberate through the unwelcome room as he laid her down and tucked the comforter around her as tenderly as he could so as not to wake her up. He hadn’t made it a full step away before he heard her voice. “Stay?” She turned her mournful eyes to him. “Give me one last night?”
She had turned away from him as soon as he started removing his shoes, getting ready for him to slip into his familiar position, which he did with ease. He stroked her hair as she slept, more for himself than her, relishing what might be the last time he was allowed to be so close. “Starlight, I want to give you my every night.”
It took quite a while for him to finally fall asleep, constantly afraid she would disappear on him if he did. When he finally fell asleep, it was fitful. He constantly jolted awake to make sure she was still there, and chastised himself each time because with the way he was wrapped around her, their legs intertwined and his hand splayed against her abdomen holding her tight against him, every time he jolted, she whined and shifted.
It was no surprise then that when she awoke quite a few hours later, he was already awake to catch her getting restless until her eyes started to flutter and finally open to take in the room, quickly scrunching in confusion. “Morning, Starlight,” he murmured, his voice scratchy from disuse and the little bit of sleep he’d managed.
“Morning, Mon rêve,” she responded instinctively, but he could see the moment memories of the night before flooded back. Her soft expression became wary and she edged away from him. “What are you doing here?”
He stared intently into her eyes and took a bit of pride in the way she didn’t shy away from him reaching out to wind his hand into her hair and brush her cheek with his thumb. She wasn’t angry or hurt enough to refuse to let him feel her, that was something, definitely better than he thought he would be. “There’s nowhere else I wanted to be.”
“Jon…” she started, her voice tired and her eyes gleaming with hurt.
“I’m sorry, Marinette,” he cut in. He’d wanted to ease into it. He’d wanted to feel out how she was feeling then go from there. He’d wanted to be tactful. But as soon as he saw the pain in her eyes, he couldn’t hold back. “I’m so, so very sorry that I forgot, but more than that, I’m sorry I made you feel like you’re anything less than the center of my entire universe.”
She looked away as she sat up, tearing herself away from the comforting feel of his hand. “I understand being a reporter you’re going to have to work late. Probably a lot. But… It was our anniversary,” she lamented, another set of tears trailing down her cheeks.
Jon jumped out of bed to kneel in front of her again. He ducked his head to try to catch her gaze, but she deftly avoided it. It hurt, but he needed to get through to her, so he took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I know, Starlight. I know.”
She finally lifted her eyes, but it was worse. The pain in them had increased into something desperate. “It was our anniversary, and you were too busy for me. For us. You didn’t even remember.”
He shook his head vehemently. “I forgot the date, yes. But I didn’t forget the anniversary. I swear I didn’t. I’ve had your present wrapped at home for weeks.”
She shook her head as well, but while his had shaken like he could make her misperception evaporate, hers shook like her heart had lost the strength to do anything else. “You’ve been working so much lately… for weeks. And it’s been building up for months. Months of not making it to our plans and working late. It’s like you’re looking for a reason to stay away,” she murmured in a voice so fragile it seemed like a simple word could break her.
“I want to marry you,” he blurted out.
“What!” she exclaimed, shock evident on her face, but quickly faded to exasperation. “Jon, it isn’t that bad. You don’t need to propose to get over the fight.”
“What? No! That’s not…” He took a deep breath and let it out with a loud groan. He ran his hand down his face roughly, letting it rest over his mouth for a few moments as he let the words settle into the right order in his head. “I’ve been working harder the past few months to earn money and force my break. I want to be able to support us when we get married, when we decide to start a family. I wanted to buy you a nice ring. It won’t be as amazing as you deserve, because I don’t think I’ll ever make enough to buy you what you deserve, but still a really nice ring.”
“Jon,” she murmured and with that one word, his heart started rebuilding. Her tone had completely shifted from broken to compassionate, her eyes shifted from pain to adoration. “My friend proposed to his girlfriend with a tiny shell on a string, because that’s what he could afford, and it was possibly the single most romantic gesture I’ve ever seen.” She cupped his face and stroked his cheek gently, her thumb making a quiet rasping noise against his stubble. “I don’t need a fancy ring. I just need you.”
Jon grinned as he laid his hands over hers. “Does that mean I should take the ring back? I can still find a shell somewhere and keep the money,” he teased.
“Don’t you dare,” she gasped and smacked him in the chest.
He chuckled at the swipe before pulling her into a long, tight hug, one he wasn’t sure he was going to get again just a few minutes ago, making it all the sweeter. “Are we okay?” he asked softly, still holding her tight, but too afraid to make eye contact just yet. A fear Marinette clearly did not share as she pulled back to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, I think so. I think we just need to make sure we communicate better. You shouldn’t have made such a big change in priorities without talking to me and I should have let you know how it made me feel.” She ran her fingers through his hair and along his face, her eyes trailing behind her fingers. “I love you. I want to spend my life with you. I shouldn’t have just let things fester.”
“I shouldn’t have pulled away,” he agreed. “I wanted to surprise you, but not the way I clearly did. I’ll do better.”
“So will I,” she promised.
“Our first big fight.” He grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “Does that mean our first make up sex?”
Marinette groaned and pushed him away, watching as he fell to the floor dramatically. She watched him for a few seconds before finally answering. “Not here, no.” She chuckled as he shot up in front of her before she could comprehend he’d even moved, hope blazing in his eyes. “Take me home, Flyboy,” she cooed.
His grin turned excited as he picked her up in a bridal carry. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed and had them home before she’d finished laughing
A small piece for SuperMari May, cross posted from AO3
Nothing else rang in his head except the harsh words uttered by Damian, and a replay of their latest mission which he apparently nearly steered to failure. Immature. Impulsive. Reckless. As much as he wanted to deny those descriptors, he only fell more disheartened. Sure he strayed away from the plan at times, but he understood the consequences of what he was doing. The rest of the team didn't see that.
The final blow was delivered when they mentioned his father.
Jon had flown out of their base as fast he could, withholding the tears pooling at his eyes. He knew he wasn't the glorified Superman, the symbol of hope and founder of the Justice League. He wasn't his father who had saved countless lives, who knew exactly what to do each time. He knew his own shortcomings more than anyone else and to have his insecurities thrown at him was like a kryptonite-infused slap in the face.
And that was how Superboy found himself hovering past the earth's atmosphere, in the vast space littered with stars. He had carefully avoided the Watchtower and its line of sight, propelling himself near the sun. He swallowed thickly. They can get by a few hours without me.
His friend lashing out wasn't a rare occurrence and he was certainly used to it, but it was one of the times he needed to take a step back. There was an anxious thought at the back of his head saying that he didn't actually deserve to be a hero, that he was dead weight if not a liability even with his powers.
Jon ran his hand through his head. That's not true. And yet the thought persisted as he thought back to their missions.
He suddenly felt a tap on his hand, startling him a little.
Floating alongside him was a girl, clad in a suit with a brown-red palette and black spots. A translucent visor covered her face, but he could see a mask surrounding her eyes. Matching the bluish tinge of her hair was a pair of sturdy wings on her back.
Jon tilted his head in confusion. Who . . .? For a second, he wondered if she belonged outside of earth but his gut told him otherwise.
The stranger seemed as surprised as he stared at her in scrutiny. She fished out a device from her side (a yoyo?) and plucked out a black circular object from it to offer to him. Co-mmu-ni-ca-tor, she mouthed.
Confusion unwavering, Jon accepted it.
"Who are you?" he immediately asked after fitting the comm in his ear. "What are you doing here?"
"Who are you?" she bounced the question back. Jon noted how her voice was light. Melodious.
"Uhh---err, Superboy?" He internally winced at his awkwardness.
Her mouth popped into an 'o' as a light blush covered her cheeks. "Ahh, sorry, I'm not familiar with all the heroes." She fidgeted before clearing her throat. "I am Ladybug---or Cosmobug?---heroine of Paris. Nice to meet you."
"Paris? I didn't know Paris had heroes."
Her figure shifted to more anxious movements. "Yes, um, Paris does but can you . . . maybe keep this a secret from other heroes?"
Jon only nodded, already making a plan to research it later. It wasn't like he didn't believe her, but as far he knew, Paris didn't have local heroes nor villains. If there was Ladybug-themed hero anywhere, he would've heard of them.
"So . . ." he trailed off, "If you're from Paris, what are you doing in space?"
Ladybug laughed nervously, her gaze averting. "I just needed to get away for a moment. It has something to do with our villain. I hope I didn't bother you?"
Jon blinked. It was now clear that she'd traveled to space to shake off some stress like him. And she's worried that she bothered me?
"I can go somewhere else but I'm afraid the Watchtower will see me and the Justice League will try to capture and interrogate me. Which is a bad, bad idea because they can't---shouldn't---know about Paris and it's dangerous if they find out anything," she continued rambling. "And it's ah, um, a potentially world-ending outcome---"
"Hey, hey, it's okay, you can stay here." Jon cut her off to keep her from spiraling. "I think it's better that I have a distraction anyway. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone about you."
She took a deep breath. "Really?"
"Promise." He smiled. "If it makes you feel better, I can keep you company."
Ladybug put a hand on her chest. "Thank you very much. What are you doing here by the way?" She looked around them. "Is there trouble in space?"
"No, I also came here to blow off steam actually," he admitted.
"What happened?"
Jon hesitated on telling her but he found himself unable to resist those wide curious eyes. A part of him was saying 'why not?' while he mulled over it.
But now the things upsetting him seemed pale---shallow---in comparison. This girl had to travel to outer space to get away from her city's villain. "It's not a big deal," he began, "We, the Titans, had a mission and I screwed the plan over when I attacked the enemy first because I realized they were going to kill the hostages before we made a move. My, um, friend got mad and it escalated from there."
"I get what I did wrong, I really do, and I was ready to apologize." His fists clenched subconsciously. "But I just . . . I felt so defenseless, like what he said was all true. Then there's this insane pressure being Superman's son and . . ."
If what she was going through was actually a thousand times worse than his situation, he was going to feel terrible.
He expected her to relay empty 'sympathy'. To give him a pat on the back, saying that 'it's going to be okay'. Instead, she nodded. "I get that. Sometimes, I just straight up sacrifice myself if nothing's going according to plan and my partner hates it when I do. But it's not like I'm mindlessly putting myself in harm's way. It's just the . . . best thing to do if we're out of options."
Her hand rubbed her arm, expression turning pensive. "And carrying a mantle? It's horrible. An important responsibility was passed on to me very suddenly and I keep worrying about having to fulfill that role because the city's fate rests on my shoulders."
Jon was awestruck. And at the same time concerned over the fact she seemed to be alone in her heroic burden.
He bit his lip. "Your life sounds . . . wow. Sorry, my rant was childish. Sometimes I think I don't see eye-to-eye with my teammates because I grew up 'normal'. I haven't seen the worst of everything."
As if she couldn't surprise him any more, she floated closer and put a warm hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's not childish and it's good to air out things that upset you. Take it from someone who always doesn't have that luxury. You're still figuring things out for yourself, I think, and just because your teammates have different experiences, it doesn't mean they can say mean stuff."
He wanted to ask why she 'always didn't have the luxury' but kept his mouth shut.
"Actually, I'm . . . I was just an average Paris citizen before I became a hero," she chuckled. "The learning curve was seriously steep."
"Thank you." It seemed like all the tension had dissipated from him. "I probably can't ask many questions but I'm sorry about your villain?"
"To be honest space is already too far for him to get to me, but I wanted to be sure." Her cheeks were set aflame again. "Talking to you helped me too, so thanks for that. I wish I could tell you more, though."
"It's okay. That's your business and it looks like you're better off handling it without other heroes interfering, right?"
"Mon dieu, yes, thank goodness you understand." Ladybug's lips stretched into a grin. "If I met any other hero, they would've been nosy."
"But is there any way I can help?" he asked. "I know I can't be too involved, but . . . actually do you have something I can write on?"
She thought for a moment before taking out her yoyo and handing it to him. There was a digital screen on one half of it and a digital keypad on the other. Jon hastily typed on it. "This is my personal number. If you need some sort of backup for an emergency, you can reach out to me."
Giving her his number was a gateway to revealing his civilian identity, but he didn't mind. If there was a way to ease off this sweet stranger's troubles, he wanted to be that support just for her.
"Thank you so much," Ladybug breathed out. "You're trusting me too much."
Will we see each other again? Jon wanted to ask. He fiddled with his fingers before he said, "And if you want to talk again . . . about anything, give me a call, okay? I'll meet you anywhere."
"You're really nice," she said quietly.
A light on her yoyo flashed with a ping and the smile on her face was slowly replaced with a frown when she looked at it. "Sorry, I think I have to go," she apologized, taking out a pair of goggles from her yoyo. "I'll contact you, I promise."
Those mere words warmed Jon's chest. He watched her put on the goggles, summon a portal out of nowhere, and disappear into it.
Clark Kent didn’t often take days off. He enjoyed both of his jobs (being a journalist was something he liked almost as much as being a hero), and didn’t really see a need to stay at home alone. And then, his niece was born. And suddenly, days off were important. Because days off meant time he got to spend with his adorable niece. Someone who was growing and learning more and more every time he saw her. Like now. His older brother and Sabine had a convention in DC, which meant Marinette was staying with him in Metropolis for a week. Which meant, he was supposed to be off duty for the week.
“Bruce, I don’t exactly have an Alfred. What was I supposed to do with her? You’re the one who sent the emergency call even though you knew I had her this week.” He asks, trying not to let his tone suggest how frustrated he was. No need to upset Marinette (who was currently going back and forth between looking out the windows of the Watchtower and looking at him). Bruce’s jaw clenches slightly, his lips pursed.
“Bringing a child here was-” Bruce starts, but Marinette cuts him off with a squeal.
“Étoiles! Oncle Clark, étoiles!” She says, grinning from ear to ear, pointing out the window. Clark nods, smiling back at her.
“Yes they are. Can you say, star?” He asks, adjusting his hold to point back out the window.
“Oui! Star!” She says, before clapping. Bruce’s face falls slack as he sighs.
“I’ll have Robin stay here with her. But we need you.” He says. Clark nods. Robin was eleven, that’s old enough to babysit, right?
—-
Dick did not sign up for this when he put on the cape and became Robin. He wanted to avenge his parents and fight alongside Bruce. He didn’t want to babysit a toddler! He was totally whelmed.
“Brille, brille petite étoile dans la nuit qui se dévoile. Tout là-haut au firmament, tu scintilles comme un diamant. Brille, brille petite étoile, veille sur ceux qui dorment en bas.” The little girl, Marinette, sings again. She’d been singing it pretty much nonstop. And while it was cute the first couple of times, there were only so many times he could listen to ‘twinkle twinkle’ before he lost his mind.
“So, your Uncle said you’ve been working on English, too. That’s cool.” Dick says, because what else do you say to a random toddler that just so happens to be Superman’s niece?
“Cool!” She says, grinning. Dick grins back, unable to keep it in. Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad.
“Wanna see a cool trick?” He asks. She nods. Dick jumps to his feet and does a couple of cartwheels before moving into a back handspring. Landing it, he looks over to the kid. He grins immediately when he sees the awed expression on her face as she claps excitedly.
“Again! Encore!” She giggles. Dick does, adding in a couple more flourishes with it just to make the kid giggle more. “Robin teach?” She asks, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. Dick frowns, thinking of something he could teach her. She was really little-
“Okay, but we have to be very, very careful, okay?” He asks. She nods, grinning.
“Okay!” Somersaults were easy enough for toddlers, right? He couldn’t remember what he’d learned by the time he was her age. He just knew he started learning tricks young. But how hard could it be to teach a two year old somersaults?
—-
Walking back into the Watchtower, Clark immediately zeroes in his hearing for his niece. Ignoring Bruce’s calls (probably reminding him to fill out his reports), he follows the sound of Marinette giggling. Walking into one of the gyms, he’s slightly shocked to see Dick helping her do a cartwheel on one of the mats. It was rough, but the second she was on her feet again, she cheered.
“Again, oiseau! Again!” She exclaims, clapping her hands. Dick laughs.
“Why don’t we try the somersault again instead?” He suggests. Marinette pouts.
“Non. Cartwheel please!” She says, moving into a position to attempt it again. Clark can see the moment she spots him. Her eyes widen and she runs to him, arms outstretched. Clark grins and picks her up, tossing her in the air gently. She giggles before landing back in his arms, hugging him tightly. Clark relaxes, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he hugs her close. It’s not that he doubted Dick’s ability to babysit, but he had realized after leaving that the boy was an only child and had likely never spent time with such a young child before.
“Did you have fun with Robin?” He asks her, and she nods, grinning.
“Oui. Robin is my friend.” She says matter-of-factly. Clark glances at Dick, grinning at the shocked look on the boy’s face.
“Looks like you have a new friend, Robin.” He says. The boy grins, snapping out of his shock.
“I guess so. If you ever wanna learn more tricks, kid, you know where I am.” He says, and Marinette grins.
“Cool!” She says. Dick laughs and nods.
“Oh yeah kid, the coolest.” He says. Clark grins.
“Thank you for watching her, Robin.” He says. Dick grins.
“Any time. She’s a pretty cool kid.” He says. Clark laughs.
“That she is. Ready to go home, Sunshine?” He asks. Marinette shakes her head.
“No.” She says, turning around so that she can reach towards Dick. He reaches back towards her and she immediately latches onto him, giving him a tight hug. “Love you!” She says, hugging him close. Clark sneakily brings up his phone, snapping a quick picture of the two. He’d make sure to send it to Bruce later.
“Love you too kiddo.” Dick says, his voice quiet. Marinette leans back and reaches for Clark again. Once she’s settled in his arms, she waves at Dick.
“Bye bye!” She says. Clark grins.
“Bye Robin.” He says lightly, heading towards the Zeta tubes. Maybe he could arrange for Dick to babysit again. They both seemed to enjoy it. And if Marinette kept up with gymnastics, Dick would really be able to help her. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for either of them to spend time with actual kids. Maybe they’d even grow up to be friends.
Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Valkyrie's suit ao3 link (completed)
Pairing: Marijon, but the first bit's just family-oriented.
Rating: G
WC: 1.7k
A/N: I wrote this a couple years ago and decided to edit a bit for MariJon Week 2023/SuperMari May 2023. Fills prompts from day 1, 2, 4, and 7 for Marijon Week.
Marinette and Jon are 17-ish here and Damian is (I believe) a year older than Jon, making him 18.
The other Bats are in their early to mid-twenties and live at the Manor for plot convenience.
Also, when I wrote this a couple years ago I did not know a ton about Kon, so he's not part of this fic. I do love him, though; he wasn't excluded out of hate.
Summary: Marinette is adopted by Bruce Wayne after her parents died in a car crash. She figures out her new family are the Bats, but she also has a secret.
Meanwhile, Bruce is looking for Ladybug, who retired and disappeared into thin air.
Disclaimer: I do not know anything about the American/French fostering/adoption systems; we'll just pretend everything works out fast because it's Bruce Wayne. If there's anything in here that's confusing, drop a comment!
Please ignore any and all plot holes such as why a random American billionaire was ahead of her grandparents, Chinese side of the family, or even Jagged and Penny o adopt her. 🙂
Beta'd by the wonderful @sarcasticbambi. Enjoy!
1007 Mountain Drive was in a tizzy.
Why?
Well, Bruce “Serial Adopter” Wayne was bringing home yet another black-haired, blue-eyed child with a traumatic past.
Fostering with intent to adopt: Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Age: 16.75 years. Orphan; Tom Dupain & Sabine Cheng died in a car crash 15 months ago.
Marinette had been to a couple foster homes, but her foster parents claimed she kept sneaking out at odd times and acted very coldly to everyone, only warming up to animals. Marinette’s peers told stories upon stories of Marinette’s cruel actions toward them, specifically one Lila Rossi.
Her social worker, Genevieve Lemieux, dug a little and found some proof of Lila’s lies, but Marinette wouldn’t talk and wouldn’t explain her absences. Finally, Genevieve decided that the girl needed a new perspective, and called her college best friend’s brother– a policeman, if she remembered correctly.
“Oh, Genevieve Lemieux! Yes, I know someone who would love to foster her, I’m sure. Does she have blue eyes and/or black hair, by any chance?”
“As a matter of fact, she has both. Why?”
“I just wondered. I’ll talk to Bruce right away and get back to you.”
“Merci beaucoup, James.” (A/N: Jim Gordon)
“No problem, ‘Eve. Talk to you soon.”
“Au revoir.”
He called back a little later, saying the family would love to have Marinette come. Several of the other children were adopted, so they knew the process well. Bruce was currently in Paris doing business, actually. He could bring Marinette back with him if the paperwork went through quickly and smoothly.
Thus, Marinette landed in Gotham in the Waynes’ private jet. It was gray, drizzly, and gloomy, the antithesis of Paris.
She smiled inwardly.
Perfect.
~~~~~
Bruce Wayne eyed the dark-haired girl beside him. She appeared quiet and withdrawn when Genevieve Lemieux introduced them, didn’t startle or appear impressed or scheming at his name, though Mme. Lemieux was a little awed.
She appeared indifferent to the luxurious accommodations on the flight back to the States, plopping in her seat, fastening the safety belt, putting her earbuds in, and drifting off.
[She stopped the music whenever Bruce spoke so she could eavesdrop better. She also eyed him through her lashes, appraising his body language.]
All of her things fit in one large suitcase and a duffle bag. Her polished black nails were filed short and her hair was in a pixie cut with a crimson streak running through it. She was shorter, appeared fit and maybe even muscular, and walked with a distinctive tread. Faded lines were around her eyes and mouth, suggesting that she used to laugh and smile regularly. She didn’t seem cold like Mme. Lemieux had warned, though she did display some of every foster child’s apprehension on new people and situations.
Now she was dozing, almost curled into him, though the seats didn’t really allow that. He figured she wouldn’t like waking up like that, so he moved to the opposite seat and pulled out some documents that needed reviewing and signing.
When they landed, she headed straight for the Rolls, though several other cars were nearby.
Bruce frowned. How did she know which car to approach?
Alfred politely introduced himself as he loaded her baggage, then drove to Wayne Manor.
Inside, five people were waiting to meet the new arrival: Cass, Steph, Dick, Tim, and Damian.
Jason was who-knows-where and Babs was at her own house.Marinette nodded briefly at each introduction, then Alfred showed her to her room.
Everything was white, except for where bare wood showed through.
~~~~~
Marinette carefully and neatly unpacked her things, then pulled out her phone and took pictures so she could compare if anything was disturbed. She also set several quick safeguards in place (e.g. a strand of hair across the door) and portalled to outside her room. S
he walked noiselessly downstairs to Bruce’s study, where she found everyone gathered.
Well, Mr. Wayne had passed test #1. Onto #2.
“Will you tell her about the family business?” Dick asked. Mari paused just outside the door.
“Not yet, we don’t know her well enough. Her school friends say she is a bully, a liar, and a troublemaker. Previous foster families say she is cold and a sneak. Her social worker thinks there is some reason for the other’s statements, but she isn’t sure. For now, we act normally and say nothing suspicious. Please try and actually keep this a secret,” Bruce pleaded.
He suddenly sounded like an exhausted parent tired of corralling a pack of wild toddlers.
“She has a tread like this,” Bruce crossed the room in a demonstration, “so no giveaways if you hear her.”
Marinette tiptoed back down the hall, then walked to the study in her faked stride and knocked.
“Come in,” someone called.
Cass smiled at her, Damian glared [stared normally], Tim and Dick assessed her, and Steph continued texting someone.
“We have a few house rules I’d like to go over,” Bruce stated, and she nodded.
“No weapons, specifically at the dinner table; no alcohol, drugs, or smoking allowed if you’re underage; respect each other’s boundaries; if you’re going out, tell someone the general area and expected return time in case of a Rogue attack or kidnapping; tell Alfred ahead of time if someone is staying the night or for a meal; and take care of yourself.”
This last item seemed to be directed at Tim, who shrugged and slurped from a mug of coffee.
“Monday nights are alternating game nights or movie nights with the family. Sunday evening is family dinner.”
“Got it.”
“Do you have any allergies or sensitivities to anything?”
“No. I have a friend in New York. Do you think I could see her sometime?”
“Of course. In the fall, Gotham Academy–”
“I already graduated,” Marinette cut in. “I skipped Grade 3 and did 11 & 12 in one year.”
“Oh. Okay, then. Do you have an idea of what secondary school you’d like to attend?”
“I’m working on a course online. I’m good, thanks.”
Everyone stared at her. “Uh, Mme. Lemieux said you like animals. Damian has several you can meet later.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else?”
“No. Thank you for your time, Marinette. Dinner will be at six-fifteen. Cass can give you a tour of the manor later if you’d like.”
Marinette nodded at Cass. “Okay.”
After dinner, Cass gave Marinette a tour of the main rooms in the manor. They both preferred body language and signs to communicate over words.
She also met Titus, Alfred the Cat, Jerry the Turkey, and Batcow. They all liked her, and she was thrilled to meet all of them. She told Cass she used to want a hamster, but now she was thinking about a dog.
Cass told Marinette that she could personalize her room how she wanted, and Steph would love to take her shopping. Marinette said she’d think about that too.
~
Steph ended up spending the whole day at the mall with Marinette and Bruce’s credit cards.
Marinette thanked her and Bruce, then retreated to her room with her arms full of bags.
No one had seen the inside of her room since she arrived except Alfred once when he called her for breakfast. He said it was clean and orderly, and Bruce was satisfied with that.
When a social worker came to check up on Marinette, the family saw the setup for the first time in the month that she’d been there.
The walls stayed white, but everything else was different. The queen bed had a red and black poofy duvet, the sheets were white, and the throw pillows were black & grey and red & white. The curtains were black, the rug grey and white, the fluffy chair was white, and the pillow navy. The desk was white, the chair was red, the row of jars was red glass.
A gold Eiffel Tower lamp matched the strings of lights crisscrossing the ceiling. Two picture frames were on the nightstands. The black bookcase opposite the bed was full of various book genres.
The worker approved it and everyone left.
Marinette kept a close eye on the worker and the Waynes.
After the worker left, she turned to her foster family. “I know you’re hiding something, and I’ve almost figured out what it is. Would you like to simply tell me?”
Bruce crossed his arms and raised a brow.
“Suppose I call your bluff. What have you almost figured out, with what evidence?”
“Well, when I heard I was going to be fostered with intent for adoption, I hacked the orphanage’s database and found your name. When I looked you up, I discovered you adopt a black-haired, blue-eyed child every few years. I hacked into your family’s file, but to my surprise, it was very hard to access. It wasn't easy to crack like other files -- only people with something to hide would make their files so difficult to get at. But when I got in, there was really nothing to see. So I watched the video clips and noticed some trimming and cropping of some places in the Manor. In real life, there doesn’t appear to be anything there, either. A clock, a piano… nothing unusual.
“When I came to your office the first day, I overheard your warning to not let me know about the ‘family business’. And why is the first rule 'no weapons'?! So I hacked into your financial records, but apparently, everything is aboveboard there, too. You do spend a lot of money on the Justice League, though. Mr. Queen doesn’t spend nearly that much. I do have a question about that, though: why does Green Lantern #2 break so much stuff?”
The Wayne children burst into laughter at the question (Bruce blamed a lot of stuff on Hal Jordan.).
“He’s a clumsy, egotistical member with no sense of professionalism or appropriateness,” grumbled Bruce.
“A-ha! You're Batman! Only Batman dislikes GL#2 that much!”
“...”
“Oh come on, just admit it.” She strolled to the piano. “What's the tune Dick’s always humming?”
She played the first couple of bars.
“No-” everyone gasped.
Too late, the secret passage opened.
"Hah!” Marinette crowed. “I said I’d find out.”
~
Babs adopted the new hacker into the fold; Marinette became known as Delphi.
Marinette was going to kill him. She was going to murder Adrien "Radiant Carefree Dreamy" Agreste. Say goodbye, world, to the blond sunshine. He was not long for this world, and it was inevitable for it to be shortened because of his actions. She could handle the drama. She could handle the daddy and mommy issues. She could even handle the goddamn leather cat suit.
But this? This was where she drew the line.
"What," she growled, pinning her brother down with her glare and the mop she found in the kitchen, "did you do to the jacket?"
Adrien was cornered. He had nowhere to go. All possible exits were blocked by Marinette, Plagg was preoccupied with two whole wheels of Camembert, and Marinette had that look in her eye. The one promising pain and torture and his anime collection finding itself on eBay before he could even say "spaghetti". What's worse was that Marinette knew she had him on the ropes.
He gulped. "I can explain?"
"Start talking." She leveled the handle to his neck, and his eyes grew frantic. "If you talk fast enough, I might cancel the auction for your PreCure action figure in time."
"You don't mean..." He gasped, covering his mouth with his hands. "Not Cure Twinkle, Go! Princess Precure limited edition! Anyone but her! Take Cure Flora, or Scarlet, but not Twinkle!"
"Then, you better start talking, Agreste."
He cried like a baby after that.
--------------------
"You what?"
"I'm so sorry, Mari! I thought it was one of my jackets."
"It was on my bed. It was in my room. You don't just take stuff out of my room—"
"But we had movie night in your room, and I was in a rush! You know how my professor treats students who are late, even if it was just once!"
"That doesn't mean you get to give the jacket to a random stranger in the street who looked cute!"
-----------------
Marinette flopped on the couch, grabbing onto a discarded throw pillow. "What am I going to do?"
"Can't you just buy him a new jacket?" Adrien suggested, then held up a throw pillow in front of his face. The amount of times a heavy object was hurled at his head by a grumpy or catastrophizing Marinette was enough for him to be fearful of her moods.
She mumbled gibberish into the throw pillow. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that again for me, Mari?"
"I can't." She lifted her head off the pillow to give him a self-loathing glare. "His grandmother made it for him. He told me when we went on that study date."
"Oh." Adrien deflated, not even noticing she called it a date like he had been telling her it was. An idea hit him. "Well, why don't you make one for him? An MDC original, handmade by MDC herself, has got to be worth something, right?"
Marinette opened her mouth to refute it, and closed it, thinking. If she could make it exactly how it was when she got it...
She jumped up, rushing to her bedroom. She needed to research where the hell could she buy flannel from Kansas fast.
As soon as she left the room, Adrien collapsed on the couch. He congratulated himself. He wasn't going to die today. Maybe.
----------------------
Two days and one sleepless night later, she regretted all her decisions. Thank Kwami it was a weekend.
Somehow, she had convinced Kaalki to transport her to a small haberdashery in rural Kansas. The isolated town of Smallville was quaint with its little shops and smiling folks. Vintage cars and retro shops lined the streets, and they even had an old school general store near the center of town. It looked like a place she could imagine herself growing old in, and she would have loved to explore the place more, maybe get one of those famous apple pies Jon kept telling her about, if she hadn't seen the boy himself sitting in the back of an old blue pickup truck the moment she stepped out of the haberdashery.
So, you might ask, what did she do?
Simple. She ducked in between the haberdashery and the laundromat, summoned Kaalki, and portalled out of there in five seconds flat.
That wasn't even the least of her troubles. When she came back to class on Monday, Jon sat next to her like usual. It would have been fine until he mentioned her visit to Smallville. She didn't even realise that he'd seen her.
"Uh— yeah Smallville went— I mean, I went to your Smallville— wait, no that's not right, I wanted to jacket—" She lit up bright red and shoved the box she carried into class at him.
"Oomph!" Jon held the box and furrowed his eyebrows. "What's this?"
She took a deep breath. "So you remember that jacket you lent me when we first met? The flannel one that your grandma made you? Well, my roommate slash brother kinda took it without me knowing and somehow gave it to a stranger, so I made you a new one and it's made of the same materials that your grandma used, at least I think they're made of the same material and I couldn't find the correct buttons so I picked the closest one to it and I'm sosorryagainit'sallmyfault—"
She didn't even know her eyes were closed until she was shocked by a weight falling on her shoulders. The surprise made her jump, hitting Jon on the forehead.
"OUCH!"
They looked at each other, and they laughed at the red forming on their heads. They were a pair of blue-eyed clumsy idiots. But, they were a pair of blue-eyed clumsy idiots together in the same economics course.
Grinning, Jon opened the box, took out the jacket, and put it on, showing off the back to Marinette. "How do I look?"
The MDC original signature fluttered on the collar as he spun around.
"It's perfect." She beamed, clutching her hands close to her heart.
---------
Bloopers:
Adrien nudged her as she ran to the car waiting in front of the campus. "Hey, hey, hey—"
"What do you want?" She hissed, resisting the urge to yank him by the ear. Damn tall genes.
"You might want a stop staring at his neck like that." He wiggled his eyebrows. "He's gonna start thinking you're a vampire, or maybe you've got a neck kink—"
"START WALKING, AGRESTE!"
so i've rewritten this author note at least four times now, so I'm just gonna leave it at the regular greetings. like, reblog, and comment! thanks for @maribat-calendar-events for the wonderful prompts, and everyone have a good day
