battinscnz

[battinscnz]

𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 // 𝑨 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, SuperBat

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman), SuperBat, Bruce/Clark, Pattinson!Batman, Corenswet!Superman, Human!AU, Body-guard!Clark Kent, Stalker!AU, Enemies to Lovers,

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Stalking, Violence, Dark-themes, PTSD, Eventual Smut

Bruce Wayne is no stranger to the spotlight—or the shadows it casts. Reclusive, haunted by tragedy, and heir to a name that carries more weight than comfort, he now faces something far more personal than public scrutiny: a stalker. The letters arrive like clockwork—taunting, obsessive, familiar. And with Halloween approaching—the anniversary of his parents' death—the tension coils tighter.

Clark Kent is a disciplined, quietly intense MMA-trained security specialist, brought in under General Sam Lane’s orders to keep Bruce safe. He expects a job. He doesn’t expect the gothic cold of Wayne Manor, the brooding silence of its only resident, or the unsettling depth of what Bruce refuses to say out loud.

But as danger creeps closer, and the mystery surrounding the stalker sharpens, Bruce and Clark are forced into uncomfortable proximity. What begins as resistance slowly becomes something deeper—something fragile and real.

𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 // 𝑨 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

The rain hadn’t stopped in three days.

It wasn’t a downpour, not the kind that came fast and left the gutters screaming, but a persistent, grey drizzle that clung to the skin like sweat. Gotham’s sky stretched low over the skyline - a blanket of thick, bruised clouds hanging like breath just waiting to collapse. The streets glistened under half-dead streetlights, pools of rainwater turning sidewalks into dull mirrors.

It was barely past five a.m., but Bruce was already moving, lungs burning as he pushed himself into the damp wind cutting through the city’s East End. 

Jogging wasn’t for fitness anymore - it was a ritual. 

It was one of the few routines that kept him tethered, allowing the noise in his head to go quiet. The rest of the world was still sleeping, still pretending that the dark hadn’t seeped into everything.

His hoodie clung to his shoulders, soaked and heavy. Damp hair stuck to his forehead. Each step echoed off the crumbling brick buildings that flanked him, a steady rhythm in the silence.

Except it wasn’t silent.

He felt it - not sound, not something tangible - but a pressure, a tension in the back of his neck that had become familiar over the past few weeks. The kind of thing you feel when someone’s eyes are lingering too long. 

When a room that was supposed to be empty isn’t. It was subtle, at first. 

Easy to dismiss.

Now it was constant.

He didn’t slow down, but his chest tightened as he turned the corner near the old theater - the one long abandoned, boarded up and papered with posters no one bothered to tear down anymore. The windows were black, reflecting only the thin glow of streetlamps and the sheen of wet pavement. But even then, Bruce’s eyes flicked up.

There.

A flash of movement behind glass. Not obvious. Not bold. 

But there .

[battinscnz]

the best friends to lovers pipeline, where clark thinks he fallen first, but bruce has been in love with him for years.

[battinscnz]

CLOSE QUARTERS

upcoming story on my AO3, that will premiere on May 21st! 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎: Bruce Wayne is a public figure haunted by more than legacy. Beneath the weight of the Wayne name, he lives in near-solitude inside the cold stone of Wayne Manor, a fortress that offers no real protection. Each year, as October gives way to the shadows of Halloween, something darker stirs. Anonymous letters arrive at the same time each week. No fingerprints. No real leads. Only a pattern—and a name written in familiar, obsessive handwriting. Someone is watching him. Someone who knows too much. And someone who refuses to be seen. Clark Kent is a disciplined, MMA-trained security operative working for a high-level private protection agency in Metropolis. Known for his quiet strength and measured demeanor, he’s pulled from his usual circuit and reassigned to Gotham by his boss, General Sam Lane. The mission is clear: keep Bruce Wayne alive, and keep him from imploding under the pressure of paranoia. What Clark doesn’t expect is to find a man more ghost than billionaire. A man whose silence says more than his words ever could. A man spiraling deeper into his own past—and someone else’s control. As the stalker closes in and the letters become more personal, it becomes clear: this isn’t just obsession. This is a game. And the further Clark and Bruce are pulled into its orbit, the more they begin to realize that the greatest threat isn’t what waits outside the gates—but what’s already inside.

[battinscnz]

«How am I supposed to die when there's only one way to live?»

[battinscnz]

𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬-𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑻

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, SuperBat

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7,309

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman), SuperBat, Bruce/Clark, Pattinson!Batman, Corenswet!Superman, Office Sex, Shameless Smut, Top Clark Kent, Bottom Bruce Wayne

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: NSFW, Smut

𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬-𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑻

When billionaire Bruce Wayne arrives at the Daily Planet for a scheduled interview, Clark Kent expects another formal exchange of words. What he gets instead is a slow-burn collision of tension, heat, and control that spills far beyond professionalism — behind glass walls and above the city, desire takes over, and by the end of it, Clark knows one thing for certain: once will never be enough. Was inspired by my own post!

[battinscnz]

they are having a "meeting".

[battinscnz]

𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷 𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑷: 𝑹𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏/𝑲𝒊𝒕 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓

[battinscnz]

JINX | RADIOACTIVE IN THE DARK (ARCANE)

[battinscnz]

"He’s everything I’m not. That’s why I can’t let him go." Some SuperBat manip to keep my sanity, and also because i miss the times when i had inspiration for them to write.

[battinscnz]

bella: where are your fangs?

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Jackie & Shauna | You made me hate this city.

[battinscnz]

MICKEY 17 | SPACE ODDITY

[battinscnz]

Blow out the candles.

[battinscnz]

MICKEY 17 (2025)

[battinscnz]

ㅤ“What are you staring at, Beau?” Jeremy asked. ㅤAt that precise moment, Edythe’s eyes flashed over to meet mine. ㅤI turned my head completely toward Jeremy, shifting my shoulders in his direction, too. Jeremy leaned away, surprised by my sudden invasion of his personal space. ㅤI was sure, though, in the instant our eyes had met, that she didn’t look angry or disgusted as she had the last time I’d seen her. She just looked curious again, unsatisfied in some way. ㅤ“Edythe Cullen is staring at you,” Jeremy said, looking over my shoulder. ✟ 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕 ✟

[battinscnz]

In the summer silence, i was getting violent.

[battinscnz]

𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹 𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑼𝑬 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, SuperBat

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 48,502 (15/15)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman), SuperBat, Bruce/Clark, Pattinson!Batman, Hoechlin!Superman, Older!Clark Kent, Younger!Bruce Wayne,

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Violence/Crime Mentions, Dark Themes, Substance Use, Psychological Distress, Grief/Parental Loss, Smut,

This story contains mature themes, including violence, mental health struggles, and explicit content. Reader discretion is advised.

𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹 𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑼𝑬 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

The glow of the computer screen bathed Clark’s face in cold light, his reflection barely visible in the black edges of the monitor. 

His fingers hovered over the keys, motionless, his thoughts tangled somewhere between Gotham’s rotting streets and the man he had left standing in the ruins of Wayne Manor. Around him, the newsroom was alive in its usual frantic energy—phones ringing, reporters talking over each other, the occasional burst of laughter from a conversation Clark wasn’t tuned into. The air smelled of stale coffee and ink, the heartbeat of the Daily Planet steady and constant, pushing forward like it always did.

But Clark wasn’t here .

Not really.

His mind was still in Gotham, buried beneath the weight of its shadows. 

No matter how much he tried to shake it, no matter how much he told himself this wasn’t his fight, he couldn’t stop seeing Bruce Wayne. Couldn’t stop hearing his voice, rough and exhausted, telling him that this was all a mistake, that Clark had no business being there, that he should just go . Couldn’t forget the way his ribs were bruised, how he moved with an ache that ran deeper than bone, how his house—if you could even call it that anymore—was nothing but a skeleton, a carcass left to rot with the rest of Gotham’s abandoned promises.

Clark had met broken men before. 

Had interviewed them, written about them, tried to tell their stories in ways that did them justice. But Bruce was something else. 

He wasn’t just broken —he was buried , too far gone to dig himself out, too stubborn to ask for help but too human to pretend he didn’t need it. 

And Clark couldn’t let that go. 

He couldn’t walk away from it. Couldn’t stop the way it gnawed at his chest like a wound left untreated.

But Bruce Wayne wasn’t the story.

Not yet.

The story was Drops . The story was Gotham’s underground. The story was the way the city had been eaten from the inside out, left hollow, left weak .

Clark dragged a slow breath through his nose, straightened his shoulders, and finally let his fingers find the keyboard.

The drug is called Drops.

He stared at the words, let them settle into the space in front of him, the weight of them heavier than they should have been. Then—

It hits fast. Burns through you like fire, ignites every nerve, makes you feel unstoppable. A high so potent it only takes one hit to know you want another. Two to know you need it. And by the third? You belong to it.

Clark let the words sink in before continuing, his fingers moving more steadily now, his focus narrowing.

Metropolis has seen its fair share of drugs cycle through its streets, but Drops doesn’t belong to Metropolis. This one is Gotham’s. A toxin born in its underbelly, cultivated in the filth, spreading like an infection through its veins. It’s not just a drug—it’s a business. And business is thriving.

His jaw tightened as his mind flickered back to the conversation with Bruce about the pit’s, to the crowd pressed against rusted barriers, to the way cash exchanged hands faster than the bodies hitting the floor. The fights weren’t just entertainment. They were part of the system, part of the machine that kept everything running.

The drug is being pushed through the underground. Sold in back alleys, in clubs, in the places people don’t walk out of looking the same. Some use it to escape. Some use it to fight. Some don’t even get a choice. The pit fights aren’t just about money—they’re about desperation. Fighters take Drops to keep going, to feel strong, to survive another round, another night. And the ones who don’t? They fight men who do. The outcome is always the same. Someone goes down. And not everyone gets back up.

Clark flexed his fingers, the words coming faster now, his thoughts spilling out before he could second-guess them.

What we know is this: Someone is keeping the supply running. Someone is making sure Gotham stays hooked. And if Gotham is hooked, Gotham stays weak.

His breath came slower as he sat back, his eyes scanning the screen. It wasn’t finished. It wasn’t enough. Not yet.

Because he still didn’t name the man behind it.

Penguin.