#Bruce: he don bite

[nerdpoe]

3 Fanon ideas to make a prompt from :)

1). Ectoplasm is Lazarus Water but purified

2). Ghosts can retreat to their cores

3). Protocore Jason AU

Danny has to retreat into his core, Jason somehow finds him and absorbs it. It looks like Jason is pregnant as his own ecto is being purified and then given to Danny's Core.

Enjoy:)

This is a full prompt, though? Okay I'll write mpreg. Gonna bypass that "looks" and make it an "is" though, throwin in some reincarnation and trans Jay.

~~~~~~

Jason was doing one last round before he left for Gotham. Before he left to prove a point. To teach Bruce a lesson he'd never forget.

He wasn't sentimental, no, he was just checking to make sure he wasn't forgetting any sickass weapons that may have fallen behind a dresser or something.

"Todd," a small, imperious voice demanded from behind him. "Observe my new pet rock."

Jason sighed and stood up to humor the little demon.

The kid was holding a weird glowing, cracked orb. It was radiating frost, and Damian had to use cloth between his hands and the magic stone.

"Damian," Jason started, keeping his voice level. "Where did you get that?"

The kid sniffed with all the superiority of a spoiled brat, looking proud and holding the obviously enchanted stone higher.

"Since Grandfather and Mother say that animals as pets would be a weakness, I decided to search the lesser treasure room for a suitable inanimate pet."

Jason sucked in air through his teeth in a soft hiss. There was no "lesser" treasure room; there was the "safe" treasure and the "unknown" treasure. Where was Talia when he needed her?

"Look, kid, I don't think-" Jason started, reaching for the weird rock, just as Damian started pulling away.

"-You are jealous that I have this rock and you do not-"

"-Damian, please, just hand over the fucking-"

"-Cease your attempted theft this instant-"

"-Damian come here you little shit-"

Jason tripped. Damian tripped. The weird rock went into the air...and landed on Jason's chest. It melted into him with a sharp flash of pain.

And that was that.

Damian stared at Jason's stomach, aghast.

"You stole my rock!"

By the time Talia arrived to see what was keeping Jason so long, he and Damian were rolling on the ground biting each other.

~~~~~~

Months later, Jason was beyond ready to murder the newest Robin. He'd originally planned to just beat the shit out of the kid, but he'd been having a rough time.

He was losing his carefully crafted abs.

He was getting soft.

Normally that was whatever, but he was trying to be intimidating, and being soft in any way was definitely going to trigger the dysphoria he thought he'd outrun.

It made no sense; he worked out daily, had started eating on a caloric deficit, drank nothing but water, and made sure what he ate was home-cooked.

Then, one month before go-time with Timmy, he'd started getting nauseous.

He felt bloated, tired, hungry, and most of all; pissed.

As he stalked through the Tower that the newest Robin was hiding in, he may have, perhaps, let the millions of small annoyances pile into one big rage filled pity party with a kid as the target.

It really didn't help that he hadn't been able to don his replica of his own Robin costume, because he...he had pudge. He didn't fit in it.

It was infuriating.

He knew it wasn't little TimTams fault, but he was gonna take his rage out on someone, and the kid was the unfortunate closest person he had beef with.

Was he overreacting? Probably.

But it was lash out or cry, and he refused to cry.

On top of everything, the one thing that had helped with any of the symptoms, the extra purified Lazarus Water that Talia had given him to 'act as an emergency first aide', was gone. He'd drank it all.

With that supply out, he was.

Well.

He was going to kill little Timmy, fuck the consequences.

But little Timmy was...doing a very good job of staying completely out of sight. The kid had been acting far more neurotic than he normally did, only letting out a small gasp when he'd seen Red Hood and immediately darted into some sort of weird hidey hole.

Jason hadn't been able to find him since.

The kid had added his own gopher network to the Tower, fuck.

The speaker system crackled on, just as Jason was about to start laying down bombs.

"Red Hood, please consider your condition. Do not do anything that would raise your blood pressure, or uh..." the newest Robin's voice trailed off, keyboard audibly clacking as he looked something up. "...Or eat peas? No, that can't be right. Whatever, look, just stay calm, take a breather, and don't overstress yourself. It's not good for the uh. The second...yeah. Not good. Do not do. Why am I so dumb sounding when it comes to things like this? Shoulda gotten Steph..."

The kids voice trailed off as he berated himself, but Jason was too busy fighting off the horribly dawning realization of what the kid was saying.

Which couldn't be true, because there was no way for the kid to know, and Jason hadn't had sex in...well. Years.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jason gasped, thanking his past self for putting the vocoder in his helmet. It sounded far more threatening.

"Oh. Uh. During one of your fights with Batman, you got glanced by something sharp, and there was a little blood. Don't worry though! I didn't tell Batman! I just wanted to see if I could figure it out on my own! So I ran your blood and now I...know. That was actually probably like, really invasive. Sorry Jason."

Jason knew the fight the little Bird was talking about. He'd had a random wave of vertigo, barely dodged a batarang. He'd had to do his own stitches afterwards.

"...You know? Know what?"

"Okay, I should clarify. I didn't tell Batman, but I kinda needed help scrubbing everything, so I had to ask Oracle to help, so she knows, and she couldn't keep it from Nightwing, because he's felt super guilty about how he treated you, but Batman definitely does not know."

Jason sat down on the nearest chair, feeling like the wind had been ripped from his sails. He took the helmet off and dropped in on the ground in favor of running a hand through his hair.

"How can you be sure B doesn't know it's me?" He rasped, staring at nothing.

"Because can you imagine he'd leave you alone for a second if he knew you were alive, much less up the duff?"

Jason had nothing to say to that. Either Ra's had been up to some fucked up experiments while he'd been asleep, or he was the victim of miraculous conception.

The newest Robin was rambling over the speakers, but Jason ignored him and held his head in his hands. The glowing orb flashed through his mind, and Jason didn't even have the energy to curse Damian for doing stupid kid shit.

He was just thankful that the kid hadn't been a viable host.

"Tim, shut up. Do you have an ultrasound machine here?" Jason interrupted, steeling himself. He was an adult sort of, one year before it was technically true, and he could freak out later.

It was time to do adult things.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Why? Has your gyno not done one yet?"

"Don't have one, didn't know. Where is it?"

"...I probably should have broken that news to you like, way softer."

~~~~~~

Jason was...pulling back. His criminal empire was still growing strong, and he was making a shit ton of money from it, but he was pulling back from actively provoking Batman.

As much as he wanted B to be the one to kill the Joker, he knew that the older man probably wouldn't do that, and Jason wasn't going to risk getting anywhere near that maniac while he was pregnant.

Batman had certainly noticed the change in behavior, but whenever he tried to intrude into Crime Alley, Nightwing or Robin would intercept him.

Jason.

Jason wasn't sure what he wanted to do about Bruce.

Dick was slowly earning forgiveness for his pas actions, piece by piece. Tim was surprisingly good at being supportive, and Jason's hatred for him was starting to wear away to the realization that this was just a kid.

Oracle, whoever she was, had apparently designed the best security system in the world and quietly renovated an apartment into a safehouse, just for him.

He hated the charity, but it was better than what he could make at the moment with how many enemies he'd gained.

As the months passed by, he found himself hiding away in the gifted apartment more and more.

The dysphoria was...bad.

There were no more mirrors in the apartment.

The kid, which the ultrasound confirmed they were, was a small one, thank fuck. His belly had popped out, true to most pregnancies, but it was relatively contained.

It was still enough to make a horrible sense of wrongness almost knock him off his feet every time he looked down.

He was, essentially, useless.

If it wasn't for the trio of well-meaning extended family (maybe? he had his suspicions about Oracle), he probably would have just laid down on the floor of his apartment and not gotten up.

Tim, surprisingly, had adopted some stupid Alvin Draper alias and was running his crime network in his stead. He was doing a concerningly good job, actually, and Jason and Dick had exchanged more than one worried glance over the kid's head.

Dick had moved in, citing that Bruce was getting suspicious and it was easier to pretend that he'd moved back to Gotham than it was to continually make up excuses. In reality, he was making sure Jason didn't lay down and rot, keeping him active and healthy.

Jason was...trying. He was trying. But between needing to stop HRT and the changes and his fucking voice and just. Everything. All of it.

He hated it.

But he still wasn't sure what he wanted to do with the kid.

Dick and Tim had set up a nursery, just in case. Dick had also surreptitiously reached out to the Kents, also just in case. There was no judgement. If he decided to keep the kid or give it away, it would be well taken care of.

That should have been a weight off his shoulders.

But instead, he felt like he was getting worse.

He was so, so fucking tired. He was starving but he couldn't stomach the food Dickwing put in front of him. He had worked so hard to build his criminal empire, but when Tim tried to tell him about it he couldn't focus long enough understand what was being said. He knew that they were getting more and more concerned, and when he woke up one morning and vomited straight Lazarus Water, Tim snapped.

"I'm calling B."

"Tim, no, we can-"

"-No, Dick, we need to figure out what's going on! This isn't something Leslie can handle, we need Bruce!"

Maybe it was just something buried deep inside Jason, but he agreed. He wanted his dad, not a doctor. He didn't care about Tim's reasoning, he just. He agreed. He wanted Bruce.

"Do it," Jason rasped from the floor, leaning into the cold tile. "Get B."

~~~~~~

Jason was still on the bathroom floor when a set of far, far heavier footsteps paused at the doorway.

The wood from the doorframe creaked as whoever it was tightened their grip on it.

Their breathing stuttered. They swallowed.

The footsteps continued, and they knelt next to Jason, wordlessly running their fingers through his hair.

"Hey Jaylad," Bruce whispered, voice tight and controlled even as his hand shook. "Looks like you've got a bit of a situation. Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Got knocked up by a magic rock," Jason muttered, thoroughly enjoying the hand in his hair. "But it ain't going right, and I'm tired and hungry all the time, and I'm throwing up the Lazarus Pits."

"The magic rock info is new," he heard Tim mutter from the hall, right before he was forcibly shushed by Dick.

"Did you have any weird cravings? Any symptoms that don't normally match a pregnancy?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice calm and controlled even as he lifted Jason from the floor and into his lap. "Should I get Constantine on the phone?"

Jason let it happen, turning to hide his face from the shitshow that had been his life for the past six months and shoving it into Bruce's stupid fancy shirt.

"Had Lazarus water. Drank it. I'm hungry but I can't eat anything. I can hear the kid chirp sometimes."

"Like a bird? That's adora-"

"-Shut up Dick not now!"

"You shut up!"

"You...drank. Lazarus Water." Bruce repeated, voice stilted as he clearly started working through something in his head. "I....hm. Okay. I'm...I'm going to call Constantine." Jason couldn't help the snort at the clear distaste in Bruce's voice as he said that.

He expected Bruce to put him down and go get changed into his Batman kit.

He did not expect Bruce to adjust his hold, lean back onto the cabinets, and make the call then and there.

~~~~~~

Constantine was officially unofficially his doctor for the duration of his pregnancy.

That was not something that anyone wanted, Bruce especially.

Jason wanted to throw up and aim it at the Hellblazer, but he had a feeling the man had been covered in worse and would, at best, be unfazed.

At worst, tempted to just smear it on Jason to prove a point.

The Mage of the hour himself was hovering over Jason, eyes unfocused as his glowing hands rested on the despised baby bump.

Jason was laying on the couch, trying not to let the sound of Bruce's pacing drive him up a wall.

"That," Constantine started, head tilting as if he was listening to something. "That is a core. And a baby. And another core. Two Ghost Cores, two bodies. If you're meetin' the needs of the physical, and you're still havin' issues, prolly need to see to the spritual, love."

"Don't call him love," Bruce warned, pausing his pacing long enough to glare at the Mage.

Constantine didn't bother to acknowledge him.

"Don't suppose you've got any spare Lazarus Water lying around, eh?" The man asked instead, eyes refocusing as he removed his hands from Jason's person.

Jason shook his head, but Tim nodded his.

Everyone stared at Tim.

Tim shrugged.

"What? It's under the city. Not like anyone will miss it if we take some."

"How. Tim, how do you know that?" Dick asked, sounding a little scared.

"Because I found it? I tried throwing dead rats in it but it doesn't work on rats, so I tried larger dead animals that had gotten down there-"

"-B you've raised Dr. Frankenstein," Jason groaned, covering his eyes from the realities of a mad scientist little brother.

"But I'm not an undead being stitched together?" Tim asked.

"You uncultured swine," Jason snarled, practically throwing himself into a sitting position and was quickly met with Constantine trying to wrangle him back down. "It's common fucking knowledge that Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, and if you paid any attention in English class-"

"-I'm gonna go get Lazarus Water okay bye!" Tim shouted, bolting for the door.

~~~~~~

Jason drank his fifth juice pack of Lazarus Water, finally starting to feel like himself again, and stared at Bruce.

Bruce, to his credit, was clearly trying very hard not to stare back.

Jason imagined this was rather hard, given that he couldn't stop fucking purring. Apparently, that was a Thing that his body could and would do, according to his unofficial doctor.

Dick and Tim were helping Constantine put the Lazarus Water into the juice packets, all of them desperately pretending that they weren't there at all and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"So, Hellblazer. Nothing to say about the Big Bad Batman?" Jason asked, eyes never leaving said man.

"Not particularly any of my business, mate. I don't really care one way or another."

Bruce actually looked a little put out at that, much to Jason's satisfaction.

"I imagine you have questions," Jason sighed, finishing off his juice pack.

Bruce finally turned to look at him head on, gaze steady.

"They can wait. Do you have any plans for...this?" Bruce didn't motion towards Jason's stomach, but he didn't have to.

"...Maybe. I don't even really know what this is." Jason muttered, sinking further into his chair.

"I told you, love, it's a baby. With a ghost core. It was probably an adult ghost, at one point, but if it was cracked near as bad as you say, it was either reincarnate or disappear." Constantine shrugged, taping another stupid tiny straw to another juice box and moving to repeat the action. "Either way, since it's reincarnation, the baby ain't gonna know tit from tat. 'S just a baby."

That. Damn. If he'd been faced with the same choice, he probably would have done the same thing.

"You keep saying that. What does a ghost core do when it's in a human?" Bruce asked, knuckles white on the couch's armrest.

"Dunno, haven't seen it before. Heard of it, though. Just makes the person powerful, but now sure how much. Flight is definitely gonna be there, though, so I'd ask supes for some pointers." Constantine answered without really answering, true to form for him.

Jason heaved himself up and waved everyone off as they started to get to their own feet to help him. "I'm gonna take a nap. Snipe at each other in here and don't fucking bother me."

~~~~~~

Jason was disgusting.

Alfred and Bruce and everyone else assured him he wasn't, but he absolutely was.

It was so bad he'd gone ahead and, without informing anybody, arranged for an induced labor at Gotham General as soon as he could.

He didn't want to deal with Dick getting scared and frantic, or Tim overplanning and having a mental breakdown, or Bruce's rigid shoulders as he both tried to apologize and do something stupid like take over from the actual doctor.

Alfred would probably be composed, but if Alfred acted a little off then they'd know.

Hell, Jason had started getting some Braxdon hicks contractions and he swore he watched Bruce's hair grey in real time.

So at the eight and a half month mark, Jason lied to everyone and told them he was going to another safehouse to get away from their coddling.

He ignored their objections and reached for the keys to his car-

-and pissed himself.

Or, it felt like he did.

The apartment went dead silent as everyone looked down.

Then the contractions really hit.

~~~~~~

Bruce actually did try to take over the maternity ward and do the doctors jobs.

Jason was delighted to have an excuse to kick him out.

He couldn't force the man to avenge his murder, but he could make him wait in the waiting room like the rest of the peasants.

Alfred he allowed to stay, though.

~~~~~~

Jason still hadn't decided what to do with the kid.

He didn't know if he was gonna send them off to a farm or if he was gonna keep them.

So he let himself hold them, to see if any of the disgust he'd felt during the pregnancy had been directed at the kid or if it was all just him hating how he looked.

The little bean of a child, eyes bluer than his own, proceeded to free one arm to pull on Jason's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

Ah.

Nah, the hatred had been towards how he looked.

This one was his, the Kents could get visitation rights.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡You're Gonna Go Far｡⋆.

Batsis!reader

We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: older sister syndrome, angst, mentions of Jason’s death (seriously Lou not every fic), hurt/comfort, all platonic

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

The letter in your hands felt far heavier than the small envelope of papers should have felt. You knew already what it said, what it meant and by god it was tempting to just shove it into your desk drawer and forget about it.

But you couldn’t forget, not when the words inked on those white pages meant that you could finally follow your dreams. Your thumb traced along the emblem at the top right corner of the letter as you read over the excited paragraph of acceptance yet again. It was a spur of the moment thing, a brief lapse into insanity when everything got to be too much and now, the consequences had come.

Could you go? Could you really leave all this behind and do the things you’ve always wanted to do? The seed of hope began to sprout in your chest, slowly weaving through the years of responsibility and obligation you had used to bury it as deep as you could.

But then, you heard muffled arguments through your bedroom door, seeping in like a thick fog. It brushed against your feet, sending a freezing chill through your body. It licked at your fingertips until you couldn’t stand the cold. 

Quickly, you shoved the envelope and the letter into the bottom of your trashcan and stood. “What are you fuckheads fighting about this time?” Your siblings responded with more shouting and as you left your bedroom, you doused that little bit of hope with the poison of your duty.

——————

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” The question hung in the stale air for a moment, looming over you as you worked on sharpening Damian’s favourite sword. Your father was sitting at the massive wall of screens, wearing all of his uniform except for the cowl. A pensive look on his face, he seemingly couldn’t meet your eyes.

“A dinosaur cowboy rockstar.” You snipped back. The letter flashed through your mind but disappeared quickly enough with another pull of the blade against the sharpening stone. Bruce’s brow furrowed.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You sighed heavily through your nose as your shoulders tensed with the blowout that was about to happen. His eyes pierced into you, watching you with that same bit of intensity they had the first time you donned the Robin suit. 

The leather hilt of the blade creaked with the strength of your grip and the cave settled into a tense silence. But you couldn’t feel that anger that you used to when he asked that question any time before, all you felt was that overwhelming, devastating sadness of what your life could have been.

The first time was when Dick left; Bruce wanted comfort, to know that what he had condemned you and your brother to do was right. You had swallowed down that anger, the urge to scream at him and blame him for everything in favour of telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. “I’ve always wanted to help people and being Robin was the best thing I could be.”

It was after Jason’s funeral when he asked next. Your eyes were still swollen with your tears, your shirt ruined from where Dick had been clinging to you and the bruises from the explosion that took your little brother not yet healed. You had refused to answer him, just telling him to get some rest and that the mantle of Batman would be yours until Alfred determined him fit for the field once more.

You supposed this time had been brought on by Tim’s departure to college barely a week ago. The house was noticeably dimmer without the boy genius and it had quite obviously been affecting your father. You nor Dick or Jason ever got the chance to go to college so it was a massive change.

The bite of your nails into the palm of your hand brought you back into focus where your father was watching you, unblinking. Bruce was a patient man, you’ll give him that.

“Why exactly does it matter? I have a job to do here- protect my brothers, protect the city, protect you in that order, just like you taught me.” His flinch was almost imperceptible to the untrained eye but you were far from untrained.

“Is that really what you want out of your life?” He was probing for something and you didn’t really care. The blade slid easily back into its sheath as you approached the wall of weaponry behind you. 

“What I may want isn’t relevant here, I’m doing what I can- is that enough for you?” With more force than necessary, you slammed the sword into place, turning your back on your father. “I have shit to do, call me if you need backup.” 

——————

You had been avoiding your room like the plague for three days now. Each time you stepped foot in there, all you could think about was the letter and how the deadline for the offer was drawing ever closer. The easiest solution would just be to throw it out or even calling the university to tell them that you were declining their offer but the easy way of doing things was not your style.

Instead, you started staying up all night and crashing on the couch whenever you needed a power nap. You weren’t dense enough to think that your family hadn’t noticed your change in behaviour but they at least didn’t mention it and you were grateful for that.

“Hey Dams, I need you for a second.” Ever eager to avoid his homework, your youngest brother perked up, his undivided attention now firmly on you. You chuckled softly. “Can you go grab my charger from my room, it should be on my desk.”

“Tt, so forgetful.” He muttered but obeyed anyway, leaving you smiling softly as you returned to your book. 

You hadn’t noticed how long he had been gone until it was Jason that strolled into your father’s office. Still donned in his leather jacket, hair still damp from the rain that had only just started, he looked like a mess. “I thought you vowed never to come back.” You quipped. 

“Har har, you’re still annoying as shit I see.” But even with his harsh tone, Jason plopped himself next to you on the couch and leaned his head on your shoulder. “Are you ever gonna get outta here?”

Your eyes flicked to your not so little brother. “Why is everyone asking me that, I mean if you want me to move out, I can.” You brushed off with a laugh.

“You don’t have to stay y’a know, you can go if you want. No one would be angry at you.” Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. That little seedling of hope began to come back to life once again, tentatively putting out roots.

“Where would I go Jay-bird?” He shook his head, forcing his face into your neck just like he would do when he was little.

“Anywhere, somewhere far from here.”

“But then who would be around to protect you Robins hm?” 

“We aren’t little anymore, we can take care of ourselves.” You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Before you could respond, the office door opened once more and most of the rest of your family filed in.

Each of them looked haunted and almost withdrawn, save for Damian who angrily stomped over to you, and shoved Jason off of you so he could crawl onto your lap. “Who died?” You let your youngest brother wrap your arms around him as you made eye contact with your father.

But it was Dick that stepped forward, a piece of paper in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice shook with that unique mixture of rage and heartbreak that it seemed only he could perfect. The paper trembled in his hands, making the embossment at the top visible.

You poked Damian on his side. “I told you to stop looking through my stuff, you little shit.”

“Couldn’t find your charger.” He responded indigently, his fingers curling into your shirt.

“This is a big deal miss, not just anyone gets into this university.” Alfred, ever the peacemaker, laid a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “You should have told us.”

“It’s nothing, it was a lapse of judgement. I wouldn’t leave you all.” You brushed off but evidently, that wasn’t good enough for anyone. Dick and Jason scoffed while Bruce just looked like he was about to cry.

“You could go, leave this place and you’re giving it up for some idea that we need protecting? That’s fucking stupid.” Jason shoved himself away from you, angrily rising to his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. “You have a real shot here.”

“Is that what this is, some kind of fucking intervention? My life is my own thank you very much, I don’t need all of you telling me what I can or cannot do.” You tried to pry Damian from you in some vain attempt to get away from the conversation but that sneaky shit had dug his fingers into your shirt so tightly that there was no way you were getting him off of you without ripping off your shirt.

The roots were taking hold and it made you feel like shit. Who were you to leave this all behind when it could so easily be ripped away from you? You were needed here, your purpose was here not at some college where you couldn’t be there to protect your brothers.

“We’ll be ok, you can go.” You shook your head, biting back tears that were already building. Bruce came closer, taking your face between his hands. “I have put too much on you, I should have realised long ago. I’m sorry Birdie.”

“You haven’t called me that since I was 12.” Your father laughed sadly.

“Oh my girl, I haven’t been a good father to you have I?” His calloused thumbs wiped away the tears that you hadn’t realised were now steadily rolling down your full cheeks.

“You were never a good dad.” Jason scoffed which was quickly followed by a yelp as Dick elbowed him in the stomach.

“They’re having a moment.” 

“I put so much weight on your shoulders, it was my job to protect all of you but I don’t think I’ve done a very good job at that. This shouldn’t be your dream, you deserve to make a life for yourself without having to worry about all of us.” It was so strange to see your father laid so bare in front of you, freely admitting his mistakes. “You deserve so much more than this.”

You looked at your brothers as if they would give you some excuse to stay, to reject that offer but their faces remained stern if not a little sad. “You can go sis.” Dick nodded.

“You’ve done more than enough for us, I think it’s time that we pick up the slack.” Jason bumped him with his shoulder and gave you a big grin. “Besides, I think it would be nice for you to actually have a social life instead of nagging us all the time.”

Alfred spoke again. “I believe what Master Jason is trying to say is that we won’t hold you back from chasing your dreams. In fact, we are actually quite proud of you.”

A solid weight against your chest brought your gaze back down to the youngest of the group. “Damian?” You knew that boy was incredibly attached to you and would take some kind of issue with you leaving to go study somewhere else.

“If you don’t go, I will never talk to you again.” 

“Well I guess that settles it.” You said thickly, struggling to speak through the lump in your throat. “I’m going to college!” Bruce didn’t hesitate to scoop you into his arms in a hug so tight you felt your ribs creak. Damian whined a slight protest but made no move to slip out from your arms.

“Good because Tim already accepted the offer for you, you start in a couple months.” As your laughter filled the room, the hope in your chest blossomed, casting your guilt and pain into the shadows of its petals. 

[Verse 1] The only time I got to praying for a red light Was when I saw your destination as a deadline "This is normal conversation, babe, it's all fine" Making quiet calculations where the fault lies This is good land, or at least it was It takes a strong hand and a sound mind [Verse 2] The college kids are getting so young, ain't they? They're correcting all the grammar on a spray paint And I even gave up driving after nightfall I got tired of the frat boys with their brights on This is good land, or at least it was It takes a strong hand and a sound mind [Pre-Chorus] It makes me smile to know when things get hard Ooh-ooh, you'll be far Ooh-ooh, you'll bе far from here And, while I clеan shit up in the yard Ooh-ooh, you'll be far Ooh-ooh, you'll be far, far from here [Chorus] So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost The birds will still sing Your folks will still fight The boards will still creak The leaves will still die We ain't angry at you, love We'll be waiting for you, love [Post-Chorus] And we'll all be here forever And we'll all be here forever We sure will [Verse 3] We're overdue for a revival We spent so long just getting by That's the thing about survival Who the hell— who the hell likes livin' just to die? You told me you would make a difference Well, I got drunk and shut you down It won't be by your own volition If you step foot outside this town But it's all we've had For always [Chorus] So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost The birds will still sing Your folks will still fight The boards will still creek The leaves will still die We ain't angry at you, love We'll be waiting for you, love [Post-Chorus] And we'll all be here forever And we'll all be here forever [Outro] You're gonna go far You're gonna go far You're gonna go far You're gonna go far Yes, you are (Ooh-ooh) If you wanna go far Then you gotta go far

All works

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DC

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[kittyball23]

True Crime (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Bruce hears something unexpected on the True Crime podcast he listens to

__________________________________________

Beach days were always the best.

It gave his wife Brandy the ample time she needed for a little R n R. It gave their 13 kids the fun they craved, hitting the waves and splashing about in the warm Vacay Island waters. And it gave Bruce the opportunity to kick back, tan, and listen in on the next episode of his True Crime podcast.

His kids were well-behaved for the most part (save for Bruce Jr. and his biting problem, and perhaps Freddy with his desire to stuff his body into whatever little cramped spaces there were). But, with a quick reminder to mind their manners and beware of any rough waves, he knew that they were well off.

As he settled down on the towel, he could hear the faint sounds of his children laughing and splashing, their mother floating on a surfboard nearby and watching over them. Bruce then removed his vest, rubbed tanning oil on his body, donned sunglasses, popped on his earbuds and began to play the podcast. The narrator's mysterious voice began to speak, introducing the story.

“In tonight's episode of True Crime, discover a true story about betrayal, deception, and greed, and the defeat of two nefarious villains who were finally dethroned from their treacherously influential reign…”

Bruce was already intrigued. Ooo, this is gonna be a GOOD one. He could tell. He tucked his arms behind his head and got comfortable.

“When one is a troll, there is no better way to live your life to the fullest than with hugging, dancing, and of course, singing. But for one troll, these harmless activities become the paramount of his nightmare for the next two months.”

Bruce scrunched his nose, skeptical. Singing and dancing that led to, as the narrator described, a ‘nightmare’ situation? He had to hear the rest of this.

“You never expect this sort of thing to happen to you, you know?” a new voice said, which Bruce could presume was the victim of the unfortunate scenario. “I sure didn't. They seemed like a nice pair of siblings. I never suspected anything malicious. They saw my performance, enjoyed it, and asked for some tips to boost their own careers. We had some drinks and… and the next thing I remember is waking up in a diamond bottle.”

Yikes, Bruce thought, pitying the victim. He sounded like a nice guy, too, with the calm, serene tone his voice had. Trapped in such a cramped space for so long sounded awful.

“And you won't believe who those said siblings were,” the narrator continued. He was very right in that, too. Because as soon as the podcast began to play a sample of the hit single ‘Watch Me Work,’ Bruce’s jaw practically dropped on the floor.

No way…

“Yes way. You heard correctly. Criminals in this case are none other than superstar sensations Velvet and Veneer, from the bedazzling city of Mount Rageous. But following them now, is a not-so-bedazzling record. (And we don't mean the musical kind.)”

A new female voice began to list off charges. “Troll-napping, Troll torture, not to mention tax evasion. You won't believe how many yachts, bling, and exotic PETS they illegally bought!”

Even if Bruce could believe it, he was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the initial news. Velvet and Veneer? The well-known household names that his kids - and himself for that matter - were fans of? Well, not anymore! Hearing such things that they did made him sick. Man… it’s gonna be hard separating the art from the artist.

“And today, just two months after the duo was turned in by their assistant, Crimp, they find that their names live on forever not in fame, but in INfamy,” the narrator said.

“Oh, I feel awful,” the distinct voice of Veneer said next. “I wanted nothing more than to be famous, and… Vel made me believe that it didn’t matter HOW we did it, as long as we DID it. Even… even if it meant KILLING a troll. It was real rough - I mean, sucking up his talent was easy enough, but we were literally sucking the LIFE out of him. His skin was turning pale - and, like, not in a stunning Victorian way, either - and that magenta hair of his was turning whiter and whiter by the minute…”

Magenta? Bruce wondered. He’d known a troll once with magenta hair. His own younger brother. Could it be…? No, it couldn’t… I mean, there’s PLENTY of Trolls that have magenta hair, don’t they?

“I didn’t say anything to Velvet though because, truly, I was too afraid to stand up to her. She’s my sister! My biggest inspiration… I didn’t wanna discourage her. But now, I see that what we did was wrong. Very, VERY wrong.”

Good, Bruce thought.

“But despite the change of heart, this Mount Rageon still has to serve at least another six months in juvenile imprisonment, alongside his sister,” the narrator said. “It comes as much relief to the now-free victim.”

“Jail can’t be fun,” the same serene voice from before admitted, “but I’m glad they’re serving their time. Everyone makes mistakes, and just like it’s important to learn from them, it’s also important to pay the repercussions for your actions.”

Well said, Bruce had to admit. He also had to admit something else.

That sounds a LOT like something Floyd would say…

And if his suspicions were not enough…

“While recovery has been successful for the troll and he has plans to return to singing, he still feels as though something is missing from his life…” the narrator continued.

“I was solo-ing around for quite a bit of time before I ran into Velvet and Veneer,” the Troll said. “But, really… I would LOVE if I could perform in the band I was in years ago… but, we kind of had a fight, and ever since that fight, we haven’t seen each other. If we could reunite - oh - that’d be a dream come true. It’s been too long.”

Bruce swallowed. Twenty years is a long time…

The next part was the real kicker, though.

“Until that day, 36-year-old Floyd still holds onto the hope that he will see his bandmembers - also known as the brothers who made up the band BroZone - someday,” the narrator said.

“John Dory, Clay, Branch, Spruce… if ANY of you are listening, I want you to know that I miss you. And I want us to be a family again…” the Troll - FLOYD - said.

Bruce’s thumb went to hit the pause button. He had to stop. This was a lot to process, all at once. He was flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Shocked. He broke down everything he had heard piece by piece, trying to make sense of it.

Velvet and Veneer were baddies.

They had taken Floyd.

His brother Floyd.

They’d used his talent.

They’d almost killed him.

He would’ve never had the option of seeing his brother again.

But now, he did.

“Daddy! Daddy!” one of his kids - Windy - was suddenly calling to him. “Bruce Jr. threw sand in my eye!”

“I said I was sorry!” Bruce Jr. protested.

“Only after Mom told you to!” LaBreezy pointed out.

“Did not!” Bruce Jr. countered.

“Did too!” Cove jumped into his sister’s defense.

“Well, Daddy, aren’t you gonna punish him??” Windy demanded to know. The way he saw it, it wouldn’t be fair to let him slide!

But the way Bruce saw it… well, he wasn’t seeing anything. His brain was still overloaded with what he’d learned.

Brandy had followed the kids, curiously noting her husband’s surprised expression. “Honey?” she questioned. “Are you all right?”

Bruce looked at her resolutely.

“I… I have to find my brother…”

[silentangel00]

The Batman

(Reader Insert)

Chapter 5: Answer the Call

Chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/732845264415719424/the-batman

Bruce approaches City Hall where the funeral is being held for the late mayor. He gazes at the street that's packed with mourners, makeshift memorials, and Riddler-styled protesters holding up signs. Pulling up in front of City Hall Bruce exits his car as a Valet opens his door. He is immediately met with Paparazzi shouting his name and cameras flashing. He tries to give them a strained smile but immediately turns and ignores them as he reaches for his wallet to pay the valet. A familiar voice catches his attention and he turns to see the Penguin opening a car door.

"We're good, Mr Falcone." Bruce turns upon hearing Falcone's name and watches as he exits his car. His attention is distracted briefly as the valet calls for him and he hands him a wad of cash and turns to move through the thick crowd, bottle-necking at the entrance of City Hall, not taking his eyes off of Falcone. He starts to get closer before a hand slaps into his chest stopping him.

"Hey! Give us a wide berth here would'ya, slick" Penguin warns as he grabs onto him. The commotion catches Falcone's attention and he turns to eye Bruce.

"Hey, watch it, fellas. You got the Prince of the city there." Penguin and the guards loosen their grip and Falcone steps closer to Bruce. "Some event huh? Brought out the one guy in the city more reclusive than me." He smiles as Bruce glares with an edge, a sense of history between them.

"I thought you never leave the Shoreline. Aren't you afraid someone'll take a shot at you?" It was difficult for Bruce to bite back his tone with the mobster.

"Why? Cause your father ain't around?" Falcone cockily retorts "Oz, you know Bruce Wayne?" The penguin looks at him in surprise.

"Wow... is that right?"

"His father saved my life. I got shot in the chest, right here. Couldn't go to no hospital, so we showed up on his doorstep. He took me in, and operated right on his dining room table, kid here saw the whole thing up on the stairs lookin down. I remember your face. You don't think that meant somethin he did that?"

"Means he took the Hippocratic Oath."

"Hippocratic Oath... that's good ..." Falcone says in clear amusement at the answer.

"Excuse me," Bruce says as he abruptly moves on, leaving as Falcone laughs at him. Bruce scans the crowd as he walks inside. He clocks rifled officers among spectators above, and cops stopping a suspicious guy in front of him. Announcements over the speaker ring out in the large space of people

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to today's memorial for our beloved mayor, Don Mitchell, Jr. Our program will begin shortly. As a reminder, the family asks that those wishing to honor the mayor's memory consider a donation to the cause most dear to his heart, the Gotham RenewalFund, our city's safety net."

"What good's a safety net doesn't catch anybody?" Bruce turns to the owner of the eerie voice. A man in a hooded work jacket glares with bitter angry eyes as the VIPs pass. "Didn't help my daughter when she needed it -- I can tell you that. Guy was just another rich scumsucker. He got what he deserved." The man then looks up at Bruce "Know what I mean?" Bruce studies his face as he nods in silence. The man's expression changes as he tries to place Bruce "Hey, don't i know you?" The man is cut off as someone calls Bruce's name.

"Bruce Wayne! Why haven't you called me back?" Bruce is startled as he turns to see Bella Real coming towards him.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm Bella Real -- I'm running for mayor -- I wouldn't be bothering you here, but your people keep telling me you're "unavailable". Will you walk with me?"

Bruce starts to walk with her as he turns back to the angry man before; He glares and turns to disappear into the crowd. Bruce wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying as he turned back toward her but immediately his attention was caught again. There you were talking to a couple of people off to the side. He stops and stares still not listening to Bella as she bluntly urges him to do more for the city. You look around curiously til your gaze lands on him and you do a sudden double-take as you both lock eyes. You turn to excuse yourself from the conversation and walk over to Bruce and Bella, almost cautiously as if you weren't sure if he was actually Bruce or not. It's been so long and he looks so different you don't want to embarrass yourself by calling a complete stranger the wrong name.

"Y/N! So good to see you again." Bella chimes at your approach.

"You as well, though I wish it was under better circumstances of course." You say as your attention flicks back and forth between her and studying Bruce's face. Bella immediately wipes her smile from her face taking on a gloomy demeanor.

"Of course, of course... Are we still on for lunch next week?"

"Yes ma'am!" You give a small smile.

"I'm going to go pay my respects." Bella turns to Bruce "Will you wait for me? I want to continue this." She then walks off to the front where the Mayor's wife and son are sitting.

"...Bruce," You say giving the same smile that makes his mind turn static.

"Y/N?" He almost forgot that he has to pretend that he didn't know you were back in Gotham. You chuckle nervously as you subtly look him up and down. He has a darkness about his eyes, seems like he hasn't slept in days or weeks. A slight stubble and a seemingly natural look of being miserable.

"Wow... you look-" Awful "Grown-up! ...It's been a while hasn't it?"

"Yeah, it has... When did you get back?"

"Just a few months ago. I tried reaching out to you I promise--- but it seems you changed your number so I stopped leaving messages." Bruce gave you an odd look then looked away.

"It hasn't changed..." He didn't want to lie to you, even though telling you that he just hasn't bothered to check his messages made him feel guilty, but he didn't want to shut you out. Not anymore... "I have a lot of messages to get through so it's nothing personal. I'm just--busy"

"Oh... no I understand!" Even though you smiled at him he could tell he hurt you.

"I could give you Alfred's number, I'm sure he'd love to hear from you." Your face brightened at the offer.

"Oh yes please!" You hand Bruce your phone for him to type in Alfred's number.

"What brings you to Gotham?" He was genuinely curious, he couldn't conversate with you like this as Batman. This was his only chance, even if there was awkward tension between you two with how things were left off ten years ago. You let out an exasperated sigh at the question as you turned and started slowly walking toward the front with Bruce.

"I'm taking over the Gotham branch of the family business" You rolled your eyes. "I'm also volunteering for the GCPD"

"Yeah? How's that going?"

"Well ya know with everything going on it's been kinda crazy for my first case. Haven't slept in almost 24 hours." You say with a humorless chuckle, Bruce looks at you incredulously.

"Well even with lack of rest you look..." Beautiful "Fine." He says as he awkwardly hands you back your phone, your hands brushing for just a second as you return your phone to your coat pocket.

"Ha, thanks... can't exactly say I feel fine though." Bruce stops to look at you noticing the weariness in your voice slip through. You avoid eye contact though looking toward the front at the late Mayors son. " I was there that night--- helped consult on the crime scene. His little boy still has the same look on his face that he did that night..." You say sullenly. Bruce watches along with you as the mayor's son turns around to look at the crowd, his eyes landing on you and Bruce. Bruce looks away to you about to say something when a familiar voice catches his attention.

"Excuse me, chief. Can I talk to you?" Bruce slowly turns to see Gordon behind them talking to the Chief of Police, Chief Bock, in a hushed voice. "Gil Colson is missing... He hasn't been heard from since last night."

"Christ, not again." Chief Bock says exasperated.

"I'm going to go ahead and pay my respects, I'll catch up with you later Bruce." You say walking away before Bruce can turn to say anything else, so he just nods to your retreating form. He bites down the disappointment of his conversation with you being cut short, he continues to listen to the conversation between Jim and Chief Bock.

"You got people looking for him, Jim?"

"Sent a couple guys to his house. Nothing."

"What'd his wife say?"

"She hadn't heard from him."

Suddenly they're cut off by the sounds of distant screams; an awful groaning engine whines from somewhere outside -- then -- sickening thuds. Bruce's eyes immediately flit up in alarm as he turns back to face the entrance, he takes in his surroundings as people start to stand from their seats upon hearing the same sounds. You turn your attention to the back as well, slowly you walk back towards the front opening of the aisle -- curiosity and fear set in as you hear the alarming noises. Bruce takes a quick glance back at you but then follows where your attention is brought up to the second story landing where spectators panic as they turn, seeing something through the windows; all except a silhouetted figure gazing eerily down in Bruce's direction... seemingly waiting for something as the sounds from outside get louder. Bruce shifted on his feet, his gut feeling leading his attention to land sharply right back at the entrance where the doors explode in a blizzard of glass and concrete.

As the D.A.'s SUV rips through the doors and crowd, flowers picked up in the grill of the car, pandemonium ensues as the crowd scatters in panicked screams; some people are tossed into the air. You stumble back in surprise and are quickly knocked off your feet by someone in complete panic. The vehicle slams past guardrails and into the seated area. Bruce spins to see you only a few feet away, disoriented as you get back up on your feet again. He breaks into a sprint and hurls himself at you tackling you out of the SUV's path as it roars past, narrowly missing you as it launches seats over your heads. The car finally crashes into the central staircase, buckling upward with the engine still grinding till it stops...

A surreal moment of quiet then screams, tears, and panic. Bruce lifts his head off of yours as he holds the back of your head and quickly analyzes your face, making sure you're alright. He looks up to the second floor to discover the mysterious figure from before is gone -- Bruce rises with you still in his arms. He's holding tightly onto your elbows to keep you stable as you sway from the sudden rush of adrenaline going to your head.

"Are you ok?" You ask as you look up at him, but his attention is turned towards the SUV -- it's covered in a scrawled crossword puzzle pattern with the endlessly repeating message ‘D.A. -- D.O.A?’

Gordon and a bunch of cops surround the SUV with their guns raised screaming for whoever was inside the car to get out with their hands up. Bruce and you watch with bated breath as the driver door slowly opens all the way, a figure staggering out, hands raised, terrified...

"Christ, it's Colson." Gordon says in shock as he observes the D.A. with a bloody face and tape over his mouth with the words ‘NO MORE LIES’. A clamp is around his neck with lights rapidly flashing on it. A cop notices, horrified, and screams "There's a bomb around his neck!!" People start to scream and duck at this warning. Bruce pulls you in closer without breaking his stare away from the D.A. as a ringing goes off causing everyone to freak out and shield themselves further. The crowd looks up confused as Colson sheepishly lifts his hand and points to a cell phone taped to his palm. As it continues to ring Gordon turns, calling into the room of terrified people.

"Let's clear this place out! Now!"

Police start ushering people out but Bruce hesitates, chilled as he notices a greeting card taped to Colson's chest.

"Bruce we need to go." You say as you try to back out of his grasp to retreat with the crowd, but instead, his grip on your arms tightens. You look up at him curiously as you notice the intensity of his stare on the D.A. You reach up your hand and lightly tap his chest, "Bruce?" you call out softly. This finally gets his attention as he turns to you. "Let's go, yeah?" He silently nods and wraps an arm around your shoulder as he protectively escorts you out, glancing one last time over his shoulder at the greeting card taped to the D.A. -- addressed: "To The Batman."

As Bruce and you reach outside of the building he puts his hands on your shoulders and leans in to make sure you hear him over the commotion. "I've gotta go. Stay safe, ok?"

"Of course, you too." You watch as he walks away, and you turn in the opposite direction to go and find Gordon. Once Bruce reaches his car he leans into the trunk seizing an expensive leather duffle and slams the trunk closed. He disappears into the crowd as a flood of emergency vehicles screech onto the scene.

A short time later the outside of Gotham City Hall is jammed with police, SWAT, ATF, K9 units, and News crews. Gordon and you stand outside a Crisis Command Trailer where techs set up monitors as the leads argue.

"Unbelievable..." Gordon whispers out incredulously.

"Are they seriously fightin' over jurisdiction when that poor bastard is gonna blow any minute?" You say equally as appalled. Only a short while later the police send in a small whirring police robot. It rolls toward Colson as he sits alone, the cell phone in his hand echoing as it keeps ringing. Gil lifts his head as the robot stops before him, he stares oddly at it as a camera slowly extends towards his head.

"We got a picture!" One of the Techs yells out. Everyone suddenly quiets as they crowd around to see Colson just staring sadly into the robot camera. His expression changes when he suddenly turns, struck -- shock begins to fill his eyes.

"What's he lookin at?" Chief Bock questions. Colson sits there frozen as Batman emerges from the shadows, moving slowly across the floor toward him. Chief Bock's eyes widen as Batman appears on the robot's cameras, "Are you kiddin me?! What the hells he doin'?! ... Gordon!!!"

Gordon presses closer along with you to see Batman approaching Gil.

"Your guy's gonna get himself killed in there!"

Your jaw slightly drops as you watch with growing concern. Batman stops, towering over Gil, and reaches out to peel the tape off his mouth. Colson takes a deep breath "Please, he made me do it! I'm so sorry! ... He told me if I didn't do exactly what he said, he'd kill me. I'm so sorry!"

"Looks like a combination lock," Batman says as he studies the contraption around Colson's neck.

"Can't we just cut it off?" Colson whimpers out.

"Not if you want to keep your head." Batman then rips the card off of Gil's chest. On the cover is a cartoon of a lady holding a comically large old phone with the words 'In these trying times, Never forget...' Batman opens it, 'I'm just a phone call away.' -- under that in angry scrawl is the word 'ANSWER'. Gil lifts the ringing phone expectantly as Batman reaches to press the answer button. The phone's screen displays a live split-screen image of the riddler lurking out of frame on one side, and Batman on the other. Riddler stares for a beat before his chilling voice comes calmly through the changer.

"You came..."

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm nobody... I'm just an instrument here to unmask the truth about this cesspool we call a city."

"Unmask?"

"Yes... let's do it together ok? I've been trying to reach you... You're part of this too"

"How am I a part of this?"

" You'll see..." Riddler says as he shifts to stand fully within frame. A police officer calls out to Chief Bock to come take a look at another monitor they have set up. GC1 news channel is running the feed from the Riddler's phone, broadcasting live through social media.

"Say hello to my followers, we're live! -- They're here to watch our little trial. At the moment, the man across from you, Mr Colson, is dead!"

Colson starts to panic upon hearing this, "Jesus, can we get somebody out here?! This psycho's gonna kill me!"

"SHUT UP!!" Riddler rises from his chair and presses in closer to the phone camera in anger as he screams with a scarily distorted voice " You deserve to be dead after what you did! You hear me?!!" The terrifying outburst makes Gil fall silent -- Riddler starts to eerily chuckle. " I'm giving you a chance -- No one ever gave me a chance." The Riddler has returned to an oddly calm demeanor as he continues, "Now... ever since I was a child, I've always loved puzzles... for me, they're a retreat from the horrors of our world. Maybe they can bring some comfort to you too, Mr Colson."

Colson turns the phone away from Batman and towards himself to face Riddler through the screen, "You want me to do puzzles?"

"Yes! Three riddles in two minutes! You give me the answers, and I'll give you the code for the lock! Do you understand?"

"Yeah, ok-" Gil rises from his seat and starts to pace " So you just want me to-" Before he can finish his question Gil shrieks as the countdown appears on his collar for two minutes and the Riddler starts without warning.

"Riddle number one! It can be cruel, poetic, or blind but when it's denied, it's violence you may find."

"Wait! Can you repeat that? I didn't -- I didn't -- Cruel... poetic?"

"Justice," Batman chimes.

"Huh?" Gil spins to look at Batman to panicked to think straight.

"The answers Justice."

Gil looks at the phone, "Justice?"

"Yes! Justice! And you were supposed to be an arm of justice in this city, along with the late mayor and police commissioner, were you not, Mr Colson?"

"Of course, of course, of course--"

"Riddle number two!" Riddler continues as you still watch on the screen connected to the police robot, biting your nails in anxiousness. " If you are justice, please do not lie. What is the price for your blind eye?"

Gil shakes his head in confusion "Price?"

"Bribes." You say out loud in frustration. Batman turns to the robot slightly as Colson struggles to keep his breath, hyperventilating as he repeats what you say to the Riddler.

"Oh God -- Bribes?"

Your brows furrow in confusion and you look to Gordon as you whisper " Can they hear me through that thing?" Gordon stiffly looks at you and nods as heat rises to your ears in embarrassment.

"He's asking how much it costs for you to turn your back." Batman corrects. Colson cries in exasperation.

"You gotta be kidding me!"

"Fifty-eight seconds!" Riddler interjects.

"How much?" Batman calmly pushes for the answer.

"Nothing!" Colson shakes his head in denial but Batman knows better.

"How much?!" He raises his voice pushing harder for Colson to answer. There's no time to waste.

"Ten grand!" Colson finally breaks. " Ten G's a month! I get a monthly payment just not to prosecute certain cases."

"What cases?"

"He didn't ask me that! Come on!" Colson holds up the phone to answer Riddler " Ten grand! That's my answer, it's ten grand!"

Riddler is obviously having a fun time of this as he giggles, " Okay, okay! Don't lose your head, Mr. Colson! Just one more to go before your time runs out. Last riddle!" He sings out, " Since your justice is so select, please tell us which vermin you're paid to protect..."

"Which vermin?"

"The Rat," Batman answers immediately knowing what this means, " The informant you all protect from the Salvatore Maroni case."

"How do you know about that?" Gil whispers out in shock.

"I'm trying to help you, what's his name?"

"Twenty seconds!" Riddler chimes excitedly.

Gil shakes his head, "No."

Batman steps closer urgently, grabbing Colson, "He's gonna kill you."

"I'm a dead man either way. You're talking to a dead man, okay?! If I go out this way it's just me, but if I give over that name, I have family, people I love -- He'll kill them too!"

"Who will?!"

"People are watching..." Colson whispers out.

"What people?!" Batman shakes him, trying to get something, anything, out of Colson.

"It's so much bigger than you could imagine. It's the whole system!"

Riddler starts to count down from five.

Colson cries-- "FOUR"

"Oh, God, have mercy on me.." "THREE"

Batman looks down in alarm as the timer ticks to zero hearing the Riddler sing out " Goooooodbye!"

Batman turns, shielding his face, as a blast erupts from the bomb around Colson's neck. Propelling Batman back as he slams to the ground, sliding into chairs, as his suit is in flames. Spectators from outside all erupt into rising voices of concern. Your hand slaps to your mouth, muffling a cry of surprise. High-pitched ringing fills Batman's ears as he lies on the floor in a daze. He struggles to open his eyes but can make out the forms of Gordon and you rushing toward him; followed by other cops with their guns drawn. His vision blurs as distorted yelling from the cops all around him fades and he blacks out.

Chapter6: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/738078418748489728/the-batman

[gingkos-eldritch-secret]

Fanfiction commentary and recommendations: Lex Luthor´s ascend from supervillainy to fatherhood Part IV (chapters 16 to 20)

The Original story can be found here.

The previous parts of the commentaries can be found here:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

So, the classic silly rambling before the actual commentary part is surprisingly part that´s the hardest to do. Go figure.

Well. At least aside from formatting. I may have found out how to make links into hyperlinks, but I still have a problem with getting the HTML code to do what I want and just center the line break. And I´d also love to do blocktext, so that there are the most even edges of text possible on both sides, but I know the second one just WON´T work because different devices and different formattings so it would just look awful. I could still center. But my brain hates HTML code rn. Why is HTML so much easier on AO3?

But to build anticipation: I know that the next few chapters will be kind of wild. Or. not really 'kind of' but actually a bit wild. As in: The Joker´s involved. I mean, with all of the foreshadowing in the past few chapters I was really not surprised, but damn, do I hate the man.

With the knowledge of not being with that knowledge: back to the regularly scheduled program.

○○○••○○•••○○••○○○

So? Which topic do you think chapter 16 starts with? Ding ding ding! You´re right! Lazarus Pits! Or rather: the price some people have to pay for the boon. In Jason´s case? His sanity.

And also the helpless feeling of just. Not knowing. Not knowing why or how he was the only one that suffered such harsh side effects when the rest of the family got away more or less scot-free.

I … can´t imagine how hard it must be to know all the darkness that dwells in oneself can just … erupt like some kind of volcano. Even worse if you wake up after such an eruption and just. Don´t remember. It´s frightening. And that Jason has endured that for years now? Oooof. He needs more hugs from his friends and family ASAP. Especially because he seems to feel like such a burden …

But how did we get to such deep introspection from him? Because he finally feels as if he´s getting back from the pits. You remember what I said about Jason feeling a lurch in his chest?

Yeah. It´s still happening, again and again and it´s kind of crawling up his throat.

And as I can´t imagine that feeling all too pleasant - he just kind of. Slowly falls onto the floor. Or. He would have, if Dick hadn´t caught him, good older brother that he is.

It doesn´t help that Danny collapses as well.

And then he throws up something green and goopy and it starts to move towards Danny and ugh. It sounds so digusting and horrifying I kinda had to take a moment to get a drink because god damn, that was not a comfortable experience to read about and any time I reread this for corrections I feel this imagine return to my mind.

Thank god for Alfred saving the day, because as the only one with his faculties intact he just puts a bowl over this … thing. And it helps! Whoooooo!

But now we have an exhausted Jason, a collapsed Danny and a very worried family. And not just any worried family, but a worried batfamily. Good god that can´t end well, can it?

Because of course, after the discussion about his health problems the family gets even more worried when his heartbeat slows further. And since he´s not awake, he can´t even veto going to a hospital. Thank god for Duke though, because he got them to go to Dr Thom(p?)kins instead.

And of course they´re suspicious now. Probably more of Lex than Danny, but still.

Tim, bless his soul, wants to tell Lex what just happened because any parent should know what happened to their child. Especially since there could be allergies or traumata involved.

But no, bruce just wants to get him to a clinic. It will come back to bite him in the ass - that I can promise.

And where does it come back to bite him in the ass? Right at the clinic. Jason may be fine, but Danny? In the eyes of the doc? Fuck no, he´s not. I mean, he never is, but they don´t know that, do they?

And because of all the radioactivity and the health problems and because he´s a sus mf - what does Bruce do? He wants a blood sample.

Now. We know how Danny is about his blood. It´s a dangerous thing. Thank god for Leslie and her ethics though. Because I don´t think neither Danny nor Lex would forgive him for that breach of trust and bodily autonomy.

Bruce and Damian are both deeply suspicious because the matter seems quite close to Lazarus pits and fear that Lex may be experimenting on him … and also Damian kinda lowkey hates Danny because he has hurt his family twice already, however unintentional and who says he won´t hurt even more of them?

And after that whole ordeal? Danny just decided to take his legs into his hands and get the hell out of dodge.

Can´t blame him tbh. Really, really can´t blame him.

So where does the baby boi end up? At a random roof in Gotham where Harley finds him. Predictably she thinks he maybe wants to jump though our Boy quickly reassures her that that´s not the case.

Doesn´t change the fact that he´s still spooked though. Mainly because he thinks he did something wrong and now the Waynes won´t want him as a friend anymore, because why would they? He hurt them and then they even had to get him to a clinic and Harley, please do something about this, it´s just sad to read :')

And now Danny doesn´t even wanna call Lex, because of the situation because he fear he´ll never be allowed to go anywhere again because he was 'right' and just. Danny I understand your fear, but comunication please.

Of course he deflects by asking if the Joker was around, which somehow leads to Harley taking him to her and Ivy´s place? Don´t ask me how it happened, the only I way I can condense it is if I say: they ranted.

This leads to this part of the conversation:

“Really? Then why did… you know,” he said, looking her up and down. “I know it couldn’t have been just the Joker that made you this way. He’s your… origin story, not your love interest.”

And I think that just endeared danny to her forever.

So while Danny cuddles with Bud and Lou on the Couch, the bats are freaking out because they lost Danny. And what do the bats do best when they panic? Suit up and spread out. 

Lex is finally being called. Suffice to say the conversation does not go well. At all. And Lex is now on the way. Because of course he is. Especially after Bruce basically insulted him by insinuating he´s a bad parent. Way to put your foot in your mouth, Bruce.

And what else does happen on this lovely day? The Joker gets out, because of course he does. Why not make bad things even worse? That´s what this man does best after all.

Meanwhile Ivy is exasperated at Harley´s antics, seeing as she wants to steal Danny from Lex and yeah. Just a typical start to girl´s night i guess? Catwoman will have fun with this situation, i can already tell xD

Now if only I knew what Damian would want those bolt cutters for?

Selina arrives! And instantly thinks Danny was kidnapped as well.

That topic quickly shifts though. And what does it shift into? Bruce´s batdoption problems. It´s just such a good meme and I´m not even mad about it.

It also seems a put a few things into perspective for Danny since she tells him that some people don´t think Lex to be a good parent. For very good reasons to be honest, but I guess it still stings a bit ...

In the end girl night starts with them just trash talking Bruce and his furry tendencies. As well as his hypocrisy when we consider his dating history. How a man with such a moral compass can deal with dating people such as Talia or Catwoman I will never understand. I know, I know. Sexual Tension. But Sexual Tension does not cause you to conceive a child together (that´s just trash as well. I gotta be solidary xD)

So in the typical girl night fashion, they talk about feelings and who may have a crush on whom and how oblivious some people (*cough* Danny *cough*) are and there´s many an adive to be had. They´re just gal pals having fun :D

Meanwhile Lex is annoyed at the Gotham airspace seeing as he can´t get into the city without changing vehilces because a certain clown blew up some buildings.

Meanwhile girl night changed into poker night and well. I don´t think any of them play fair xD

The conversation that follow are easily put under the "What happens on girls’ night, stays on girls' night" category as Ivy suitably calls it.

The bats and birds still haven´t stopped searching. Joker´s still a crazy piece of work and Danny? Danny is just losing at Uno and living his best live.

[underburningstars]

Clark Kent fucks Bruce in the office table (Wayne mansion) smut request

I'm not good at writing smut. Hope it's satisfactory

on ao3

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Pairing : Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne

Tags : It's just filth, no plot at all

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"Bruce! You can't just keep throwing yourself in danger like that!" They've had the same argument at least hundred times. But Bruce never listened.

"Clark, I'm fine. Everything went on well. Nothing happened." Bruce leaned against the office table, to uses to this conversation.

"Sure, it went fine. But if Diana didn't reach you on time, it would be." Clark threw his hand up in frustration. He just wanted Bruce safe. Was the too much to ask?

"But nothing happe-"

"That's not the point!" Clark took a deep breath trying to calm himself, "That's not the point Bruce. If one day something does happen, then you'll not be here to have this conversation with me. You'll be gone. Forever. How can expect me to be akoay with that? Bruce I just don-" Before he could even complete the sentence, Bruce was pulling him down for a kiss.

Clark's hand instantly wound around Bruce's waist, pulling him closer. Bruce's hands tighten in his neck, fingers tangling into his hair.

Soon Clark is pushing his knee between Bruce's legs causing him to let out a gasp. Clark uses that opportunity to lick his way into Bruce's open mouth.

It's a filthy kiss. Tangling tongues, biting teeth, hands exploring each other's bodies. Nothing like the gentle way they've kissed every other time.

The Clark pulls away from the kiss and ignoring Bruce's sound of protest he starts placing open mouthed kisses on his jaw to the spot right under his ear that makes Bruce throw his head back with a loud moan.

None of them realize when, but suddenly Bruce is trapped between him and the office desk.

He starts unbuttoning Bruce's shirt as he sucks marks on his neck and chest.

Once the shirt's out of the way, he starts working on taking off the pants and underwear. After they're gone too, Bruce is pushing himself up from the table and turning around.

Clark feels his breath get stuck in his chest when Bruce bends over, eblows braced on the desk and his plump ass pushing out. The view has him panting.

"Are you gonna keep standing there?" Bruce's voice breaks him out of his daze and he hurriedly takes his clothes off.

After the clothes were gone, Clark closed the distance between them and placed a soft kiss on Bruce's nape. He kissed his way down his spine, leaving occasional marks.

Soon he was on his knees, hands massaging Bruce's wonderful ass. He pushed the cheeks apart to expose the pink entrance and heard Bruce's breath hitch above.

He blew a little aor on Bruce's hole and watching in amazement how it instantly clenched.

He leaned forward and licked a full, flat stripe at it. He could feel the ring of muscle tighten under his tongue, and Bruce’s moan was muffled by his palm.

"Put you hand away. I wanna hear you." for a second he though Bruce would disagree but he didn't and put his hand away obediently.

He set a slow, torturous pace, alternating sucking and licking. Clark reached around to place his hands low on Bruce's hips and pull him back, tongue pressing inwards at Bruce's rim and listening to the beautiful moans and gasps.

He pulled back a little to push his finger inside. Started thrusting in in and out when it breached without any interruption.

One finger became two and then three and soon Bruce was loose enough for Clark to fuck. He pulled his fingers out and stood up, bracing himself behind his boyfriend.

He pulled Bruce's right leg up on top of the desk and put his hand there and put his other hand on Bruce's hip. He heard Bruce gasp when the head of his dick touched Bruce's rim.

Slowly the thrusted forward and by the time he had bottomed out, they were both breathless with pleasure.

He rocked back and forth gently at first but after begged him to got harder, he increased his speed, hitting Bruce's prostate with every thrust. He clamped a hand around Bruce's neglected dick and pumped him slowly.

The dual sensation had Bruce throwing his head back on Clark's shoulder, arching his back and he came with a loud moan of Clark's name. Bruce's hole clenched around Clark tightly and soon he was coming too, painting Bruce's insides with his cum.

They both leaned into each other, catching their breath. Then he pulled out and shuffled them both to the couch. After moving around a bit, they found a comfortable position. Clark sitting down with Bruce curled on his lap.

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't just into danger like this. Sorry for worrying you. Again." Bruce whispered.

"It's okay. I know you just wanted to save the people but leave the life threatening action to the immortals and aliens, okay?"

"I'll try my best." Clark could hear the smile in Bruce's voice.

For now, this was enough.

[hollandorks]

shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter three

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: Time for another chapter! Trying to stick to a twice a week schedule for now until the draft of the fic is completed! I’ll be going on vacation starting this Sunday so I’m not sure when ch 4 will be posted. I’m going to try to make time to post while I’m gone though! Also, yes I am randomly changing the setting of the house around to make it not be the tower but still fit with the movie! 

If you feel like supporting me further, donate to my ko-fi! You can get either a teaser for the next chapter (for lower donation amounts) or the entire next chapter (higher donation amounts). Find more info and the link to my ko-fi here!

Series Masterlist

word count: 3448

She really had a bad feeling about this. Something was brewing in Gotham, and Batman was at the center of it all.

The roar of Bruce’s motorcycle preceded him into the Batcave by several minutes. The bats that had settled after y/n’s earlier entrance now took off again, screeching and chittering in a familiar rush of noise. 

She wanted to ask Bruce a bunch of questions, but she waited while he removed the motorcycle helmet, set aside the backpack with the cowl in it, and walked over to the workstation that held the screen. 

He took out the contacts and earpiece and set them both in their proper place. 

His shoulders were tense. His face was drawn and tired. 

Y/n tried really hard not to chew a hole in her lip. 

“I can hear you, you know,” Bruce murmured as he started his routine replay of the night. On screen, a subway station materialized, a gang of men in weird face paint watching him from a distance. 

“Hear what?” she asked with a frown. She hadn’t sighed, had she? She was trying to be patient, but– 

“Biting your tongue and trying not to ask a million questions.” He gave her a small lift of the lips that could have been a smile. 

She smiled a little sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

He brushed one knuckle against her cheek and pulled his latest journal closer. “You watch, I’ll write.” 

She nodded, glad that the curiosity burning a hole in her chest would soon be eased. Bruce reached around her and turned up what she referred to as his “moody writing playlist,” which was mostly a bunch of Nirvana. He always listened to something while he wrote and watched the replays of his night. When she’d asked about it, he’d said it helped him to get his mind off of things, helped him focus his thoughts more objectively by not getting as caught up in the recordings. Without the music, he was too focused on the recordings when he wanted to be shedding the Batman for the night. 

As Bruce started scribbling furiously, she watched his night unfold across the screen. The face-paint guys were getting their asses kicked. 

“I’m vengeance,” Bruce’s voice said on the screen. 

Y/n couldn’t help it. She snorted. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, earning herself a small smile from Bruce as he wrote. 

She watched him take her call the moment he’d finished kicking those guys’ asses, watched him meet with Gordon and receive the news about the interim mayor. 

“Unbelievable breaking news this hour, everyone,” the GC1 anchor said from behind them on the screen playing the news. Y/n hit pause on Bruce’s recordings to listen. Might be better to ease into it before she watched the crime scene footage. “Interim Mayor Don Mitchell, Jr. was found murdered last night inside his home in the exclusive Crest Hill district.” 

A woman’s voice chimed in. “Exact details of the crime still have not been released, but a citywide manhunt is already underway as police and FBI search for the brazen killer. And this certainly is not the first time Gotham has been rocked by the murder of a political figure. In fact, in an eerie coincidence, it was 20 years ago this week that celebrated billionaire philanthropist Dr. Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha were slain during Wayne’s own mayoral campaign. It was a shocking crime that remains unsolved to this day.” 

She and Bruce both froze. He reached over and turned off the music. He was trying to downplay it, but she could see how his whole body tensed. How every single part of him was suddenly focused on the news. 

The news anchors continued. “Don Mitchell, Jr.’s political career was especially notable for his tough war on drugs when he and city police launched a major sting operation, resulting in the arrest of notorious mafia crime figure Salvatore Maroni with what, to this day, remains the biggest drug bust in GCPD history.” 

The elevator rattled to a halt and Alfred came limping out. 

The news reporter continued, “Don Mitchell, Jr. has had such a successful run as interim mayor that he had planned to–” 

Bruce and y/n both turned back to the replay of the night while the news played on. 

“I assume you’ve heard about this,” Alfred said as he handed Bruce a glass of green juice. He patted y/n on the arm. “I didn’t know you were back, dear, or I would have brought some down for you as well.” 

Y/n glanced suspiciously at the juice. “That’s alright, I ate at the restaurant.” It was a lie–she’d completely forgotten until that moment to eat. She’d been too worried about Bruce, too caught up in working to keep her mind off of what was going on. 

On the screen in front of them was a man with his face completely wrapped in duct tape. 

“All this blood’s from his head?” Gordon asked on the video. 

Y/n swallowed. Bruce was tense next to her. She had no idea if it was because of the murder in front of them or the mention of the anniversary of his parents’ murders, or both. 

A second detective on screen answered Gordon. “Most of it’s from his hand. Thumb was severed. Killer may have taken it as a trophy.” 

Y/n swallowed again and averted her eyes as Bruce’s lens went to the aforementioned severed thumb. 

“He was alive when it was cut off. Ecchymosis…around the wound.” Bruce’s voice on the video, this time. 

“Nerd,” she muttered, elbowing him. She couldn’t help it. He was on edge, and she wanted to make it better. It worked, a little. He at the very least rolled his eyes as they continued to watch the crime scene unfold. 

After a couple of minutes, Bruce printed out a copy of the card the killer had left him. 

“I don’t like this,” she said softly as her eyes skimmed over the words. Bruce started scribbling furiously on the printout. He lies still. She had no idea how he’d figured out the riddle so fast, and in front of a bloodied body no less. Sometimes she forgot just how smart he was. 

Alfred’s gaze darted between Bruce writing and the screen, where Gordon was holding up an envelope that was addressed to Batman. “The killer left this for the Batman?” he asked incredulously. 

“Apparently,” Bruce muttered. 

“You’re becoming quite a celebrity.” 

Y/n kept quiet, eyes fixed on the screen, brain whirring. This wasn’t good, she thought for the hundredth time. She had a really bad feeling about all of this, and she couldn’t shake it. Now that she was seeing what Bruce had seen…

“Why is he writing to you?” she and Alfred asked at the exact same time. They exchanged a sharp look. 

Bruce was unphased. “I don’t know yet.” 

There was tension in Alfred’s eyes. He was as freaked out as she was, y/n realized. And Bruce was acting like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 

“Have a shower,” Alfred said authoritatively. “Our accounting friends at Wayne Enterprises are coming for breakfast.” 

Y/n and Bruce both jerked their heads towards Alfred. 

“Here? Why?” Bruce demanded. His shoulders were even more tense than before, if that was impossible. She gently laid a hand on the crook of his elbow. She could feel the hard edge of the suit armor beneath the jacket. 

“Because I couldn’t get you to go there,” Alfred snapped. Usually Alfred wasn’t like this but this new killer had them all so immediately on edge she knew he was struggling to control himself. She knew what they were all thinking about–another case, another murder, another mayor. It was like it was still haunting them, even after more than a year. 

“I haven’t got time for this.” 

“It’s getting serious, Bruce. If this continues, it won’t be long before you’ve nothing left.” Alfred’s fists clenched. 

“I don’t care about that. Any of that.” 

Y/n tried very hard to disappear into the shadows like Bruce did so well. She didn’t want to be a part of this argument.  

Alfred’s voice was calmer now. “You don’t care about your family’s legacy? About your life with y/n? Your future?” 

“What I’m doing is my family’s legacy. If I can’t change things, Gotham will destroy our future. If I can’t change things here, if I can’t have an effect, then I don’t care what happens to me.” Bruce clenched his jaw so tightly she was sure it would break. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Alfred said a bit sadly. It’s what y/n was afraid of too, though she didn’t chime in. This was between the two of them. 

Bruce gave a humorless smirk. “Alfred, stop. You’re not my father.” She couldn’t help her wince at the words. 

Alfred’s expression closed off immediately. “I’m well aware.” Her heart squeezed at the obvious pain in the older man’s eyes. 

“Bruce–” she said, but he smacked a button on the computer to print something and stalked off to the elevator. 

She and Alfred shared a look after Bruce was gone. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “He–” 

“You don’t need to apologize for him,” Alfred said softly. “He’s right, I’m not his father. But…” 

“I know,” she said. But Bruce needed someone to look out for him. “He’s being a dick. I’ll talk to him.” 

Alfred gave her a small smile. Behind her, the computer was still playing Bruce’s night. A shift in Alfred’s expression had her turning to look at the screen.  

On the screen, a young boy sat alone on a bed. 

“We really gotta go, man,” Gordon said on the recording. 

Alfred closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Oh,” y/n said, suddenly understanding Bruce’s mood a lot better. 

The boy had found his father.

Just like Bruce had seen his parents get killed, almost exactly twenty years ago. 

Once, when she was recovering in the hospital from the events of the gala, Alfred had told her that Bruce blamed himself for the murder of his parents. He’d only been a kid at the time, but apparently that hadn’t mattered. It’s what had started him on this whole journey to becoming Batman. 

Her heart broke for Bruce all over again. 

“Let me–Let me talk to him,” y/n said as Alfred picked up the card and the cipher Bruce had printed. 

“Thank you, dear,” Alfred murmured. They shared another look. Without saying the words, she knew Alfred’s heart was breaking all over again for Bruce, just like hers was. But worse, because Alfred had lived through it, too. She squeezed his arm on her way to the elevator. 

–

Upstairs, Bruce was coming out of the shower, towel slung low on his waist, hair dripping water down his scarred and muscled chest. Normally, the sight would have driven her to distraction–and maybe into action–but her mind was too full of too many other things. 

“I’m sorry,” she said to him. “About–what you saw at the crime scene. I know–” 

He brushed past her to the dresser. 

“I know it’s hard,” she continued obstinately. “But you should be nicer to Alfred. He loves you. We both love you.” 

“I know,” Bruce snapped. He abruptly softened. He rested one clenched fist against the top of his dresser. “I know,” he said again. “I’ll–I should apologize.” 

“Yeah, you should.” When his head snapped up, she smiled so he would know she was being purposefully hard on him. 

“I don’t–why are the accountants coming here?” he asked suddenly. He yanked on a pair of pants. 

“Beats me. Although I probably pay about as much attention to this stuff as you do.” She shrugged. It was the truth. Wayne Enterprises had never particularly fascinated her, although Alfred had told her she would own shares of it when she and Bruce got married. She didn’t care about it, partly because Bruce didn’t care about it. She understood where he was coming from downstairs. The money didn’t matter. Helping Gotham mattered. Being together mattered. If they were broke and had to live under a bridge, she didn’t care, so long as he was with her. 

“We should probably go downstairs,” Bruce said as he blindly grabbed a shirt from the dresser. He seemed a little less tense and a little more guilty now. 

She tugged on his wrist as he walked past her. He stopped and looked down at ther. He softened further as he studied her. Her thumb stroked over the soft part of the inside of his wrist. 

“Hi,” she said with a soft smile. “Feel like I didn’t actually get to say hi to you yet.” 

“Hi,” he murmured.

She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” He squeezed her hip with his free hand. There was a storm in his blue eyes, but it dimmed, just a bit, as he stared down at her.  

“Come on, Alfred might not be your dad, but he might still spank you.” 

Bruce snorted and followed her out to where Alfred was waiting in the large study on the other end of the second floor. They’d had a giant table put in so they could work at the same time, or use the separate desks in the space if they didn’t. Usually it was Bruce who spread papers across the entire surface, but she’d done the same thing when she was first launching the Gotham Project. It was a makeshift study and a smaller version of the library upstairs all rolled into one. 

Alfred’s preferred music–classical–drifted down the hallway to meet them. 

“Some fresh berries there,” Alfred said without looking up. Still mad, y/n thought with a grimace. Bruce idly lifted a blueberry to his mouth as he peered over Alfred’s shoulder at the cipher. 

Y/n excused herself to the kitchen to make coffee, leaving Alfred and Bruce to it. She hoped Bruce would apologize, but she wasn’t holding her breath. Even now, even after everything, getting Bruce to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth and herding cats at the same time. Painful and impossible and sometimes not worth the hassle. He was most open with her, but with Alfred…it was hard to break old habits. For both of them. 

As her coffee machine percolated happily, her phone chimed with an alert. The accountants had been let in the gate and were making their way to the manor. 

She grabbed her coffee cup and went to the front door, glad she had dressed a little better than Bruce had as she greeted a couple of really professional looking accountants. She led them into the formal dining room–a room they had never used in all of her time in Wayne Manor–where breakfast was already waiting. 

“I’ll go get Mr. Wayne,” she said to the accountants, hustling out before she could get caught in conversation. “Please, help yourselves.” 

“The accountants are here,” she said to Alfred and Bruce when she re-entered the study. She tried really hard not to laugh at Bruce wearing sunglasses inside, but didn’t quite manage it. He sighed softly. He knew exactly what she was smirking about. 

She started silently praying that she, too, didn’t have to sit in on what was going to be a deathly boring meeting. 

“Go on, then,” Alfred gestured at Bruce. “Let’s go have breakfast. Y/n, you should get some sleep.” 

She opened her mouth to ask how he’d known, but then realized it was Alfred. Of course he knew she hadn’t slept, just like Bruce hadn’t slept. 

“Have fun.” She winked at Bruce, who winced. She was immensely glad she wasn’t to be included. 

She glanced at the cipher, now covered in letters, before immediately giving up. She wasn’t good at those sorts of things. 

After a few minutes, her curiosity got the better of her, and she wandered downstairs towards the dining room. She wasn’t going to eavesdrop, exactly, just make sure Bruce wasn’t causing a scene. That’s what she told herself, at least, as she clutched her coffee tightly and stopped just down the hallway out of sight. 

“–won’t sign a prenup. Everything is hers, whether I’m alive or dead. In fact, when we get married, she can have my shares in Wayne Enterprises. I don’t care. Everything I have is already hers, if she wants it.” 

Well, she thought drily. Looks like he’s causing a scene already. 

Then the words sank in. 

This meeting was about her. About getting Bruce involved in the company, but also ensuring that the company was safe from her. An oily feeling slithered slowly down her spine. Her gut clenched. Even as long as they’d been together, they thought she was going to steal the company and the Wayne money. 

But Bruce wanted her to have all of it. 

She flushed. 

“--be hasty, Mr. Wayne,” Alfred was saying in a soothing voice. “We’ll just add that to your living will, and then we’ll add her name to the shares upon your marriage like we discussed.” 

Bruce’s voice rose and fell again, interrupted by that of the accountants. 

Y/n really shouldn’t be eavesdropping. She crept back to their bedroom with her coffee and climbed into bed in the dark. The curtains were drawn, as usual, and she didn’t even bother turning on a lamp. As soon as Bruce was done, it was time for bed. 

Everything I have is already hers, if she wants it. 

She knew he loved her. Knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. But something about those words in particular caused warmth to surge through her while a lump formed in her throat. He was telling that–and vehemently–to official Wayne Enterprises accountants. 

It wasn’t much longer before Bruce came stomping into the room, shucking his shirt off as he went. He was muttering to himself, clearly worked up. 

“Hi,” she said. She set her empty coffee cup on the nightstand. 

He looked up guiltily. Even in the dark, she could tell he was flushed. “Oh–were you sleeping?” 

“No, your hissy fit was keeping me up.” But she smiled. He rolled his eyes. 

Bruce slid into the covers beside her and yanked her almost roughly to his bare chest. “They think you’re after my money,” he said angrily. 

“Oh, I am,” she said. 

He ignored her and continued on, “They want me to sign a prenup and they want me to keep you from owning shares of the company. At all.” His body was tensing more and more by the second. She knew that this, on top of everything he’d seen last night, was too much for him. “I don’t even–” 

“Shh,” she said. “If it makes everyone happy, I’ll sign. I don’t care about the money. We could live under a bridge for all I cared, as long as you were there. And as long as I had access to coffee.” 

She kissed the underside of his jaw. He relaxed marginally. 

“I’ll sign the whole goddamn company over to you right now just to spite them,” Bruce muttered. “You’d be better with it anyways.” 

Y/n stiffened. “I really don’t want that,” she said a bit breathlessly. It would be a nightmare, to say the least. 

“You’d be so good at it. I’ve seen what you’ve done with the Gotham Project in less than a year and–” 

“Okay, but Bryn and Ollie keep that place running, for the most part. Hey, maybe we should give Wayne Enterprises to them.” 

Finally, Bruce relaxed into her touch, and laughed. “I would really consider it, if it wouldn’t give Alfred an aneurism.” 

She huffed a laugh at the thought. “Yeah, let’s keep Alfred healthy. Between the two of us, he already has high blood pressure.” 

Bruce nuzzled his face into her hair and took a deep breath. Then another. Slowly, they both relaxed into each other’s warmth until their breathing matched. 

“I’m…scared,” y/n finally whispered. She hid her face in the space Bruce’s neck met his shoulder. She breathed in the scent of him. “I don’t like that this guy, this killer, addressed a card to you. And with Mitchell–” 

“I know,” Bruce murmured. “I’ll figure it out. But after you get a few hours of sleep first.” 

“Me?” she asked. One eyebrow quirked upwards even though he couldn’t see it, as tucked underneath his chin as she was. “I’ll sleep if you do.” 

She started to pull away but Bruce tightened his grip. He sighed. “Fine.” 

“Good, I was about to threaten you if you didn’t give in.” 

“Mmm.” 

She grinned. He was already almost asleep. 

She let his quiet breathing soothe her until she too fell asleep, cradled in his arms.

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[scleracentipede]

I don't know much about DID, so this is very interesting for me to learn about!

Question: is Batman aware of Jon's DID? If so, is he able to recognize the alters and switches, and does he interact with each of them differently?

I’m glad my silly little au is proving educational 🥰 if you ever have any DID related question you can always dm us we’re always happy to help people learn more

So: Is Batman aware of Scarecrows DID?

Yes absolutely - he already knew about DID/OSDD from being friends with Harvey and Co. (who I hc as being an OSDD system and knowing before becoming a villain) before he meet Scarecrow (well meet him properly, they’d crossed paths before either had donned their masks) so already knew a lot more then most and is a true ally to the DID/OSDD community.

Our Bat is much more of a caring figure I suppose who makes an effort to know what health things his Rogues has going on not to use against them but so he can avoid hurting them too much (e.g., he’d never kick Jon’s bad leg in a fight) so he knows about their DID.

The real question is does Batman know about his own plurality 👀

Can he recognise whose fronting and does he interact with them all differently? (Going out a read more so this isn’t too long for those who are just scrolling by)

Can he recognise them all?

Sometimes - there are little clues and habits they all have that he usually to differentiate them all (eg. If there’s singing he knows it’s going to be The Hessian and that he will likely get a little kiss) but he doesn’t get to spend as much time with them all as say Edward (whose the best at telling, as he likes to boast) so doesn’t always know for sure or immediately.

How he interacts with Hessian:

- Like I said he’s likely to get a kiss from Hessian along with a “We’re not so different you and I” speech

- Hessian is the most difficult for him to fight in some ways: more reckless, masochist so enjoys getting hit back, most likely to bite, hard to focus on fighting when someone moans when you hit them etc.

- But equally Hessian is easiest to get monologuing and to distract (not as single minded as Jonathan)

- He still tries to pull his punches despite Hessians ferocity as he knows it’s still just sick and scared really

- He has sympathy for them all but Hessian’s speech’s hurt his heart because he can see the pain behind them

- He has truly feared that he would die when fighting Hessian before

How he interacts with Jonathan:

- Opposite to last Hessian point: he has truly feared that he would kill Jonathan before

-Jonathan is painfully excellent at pushing his buttons and getting under his skin with surgical precision

-He truly cares for him and wants to help all the same

-He sees Jonathan’s obsession with fear and power like an addiction and he’s not wrong

- When not fighting (basically when he isn’t between Jonathan and his goal) he finds Jonathan very pleasant and interesting to talk.

-The conflict between him and Jonathan is completely impersonal to Jonathan despite how precisely he hurts Bruce, it’s all just work for Jonathan

-This drives Bruce mad and intrigues him at the same time: after all is he any different to Jon in his pursuit of his own goal?

- He seems himself in them all but especially Jonathan. In another he could be the same if he didn’t have the family he feels so lucky to have

- He thinks in another life they could have been good friends and maybe even worked to do good for the world (whatever that actually means)

- They are mirrors essentially- Narcissus and his reflection in the lake

- He worries that Jonathan single minded focus will kill them all

How he interacts with Raven

- She is the one in their system he can bargain with

-If he needs their help with something he’ll usually try to appeal to her if he can

-She claims to not hold any stakes in his “childish games” with the others

-Other than that shes very cold towards him

- They rarely interact outside of this

How does he interact with Keeny

- Keeny makes him so very sad

- Once again mirrors and all: sees his own hurt inner child pain, sees his own children’s pain, the Scarecrow system and other the Rogues’ childhood pain reflect in that sad little.

- He’s held Keeny through panic attacks and flashbacks many a time when a hit during a fight has landed just wrong or a fear toxin canister has burst bought him to the front

- All the Batfamily GCPD and the Rogues know when Keeny fronts all fighting is to stop when Batman is around

-Really activates his paternal instincts

-He’ll never raise a hand or let a hand be raised to Keeny (they are just a child after all)

- He just wants her to be okay

[ishouldgetatumbler]

The inside of the batmobile was red, cushioned and dim. Controls of a dozen gently glowing shades and shapes covered the dashboard, but Batman didn't protest when Danny sat next to him.

"This is so cool!"

"Buckle." Batman protested gruffly.

Danny pulled randomly at his shoulder level, grabbing a metal tab and clicking it into place. The seatbelt hugged to him automatically, and a small red light on the console dinged green.

"What does that button-"

"Ejector seat." Batman said dryly.

Danny's hand skittered away like a startled spider.

"Really?"

"No. That's a safety light that means someone doesn't have their seatbelt."

Danny sighed.

Batman pointed with one gloved hand at a glass covered large red button surrounded with yellow and black markings.

"That's the ejector seat."

Danny laughed nervously and leaned away from the console.

"Where are we going?" Batman asked, "I have some buisiness at Vladcorp before I take you back to the manor."

"Nasty Burger. Take a right at the end of the street, then go straight until you see the sign."

Batman must have stepped on the gas, as the vehicle lurched and buzzed, before taking off, away from the breaking sun.

"It's named Nasty Burger? I thought it was a nickname!"

Danny snickered behind a hand.

"Nope. Locally famous, it's the fastest burger in town."

Batman looked at his charge skeptically.

"You wanted something fast right?" Danny persisted.

Batman turned, the vehicle smoothly gliding into the driveway.

"What would you like?"

Danny grinned.

"Nasty burger. Extra nasty sauce"

Batmam made a pained expression, but rolled down the window to the menu sign outside.

"Welcome to nasty burger, would you like to try our Deep-Dish Krusty Fries?"

Before danny could speak, Batman held up a hand. In a cool clean, super hero voice he said

"No thank you. I would like two nasty burgers with extra nasty sauce please."

They drove off, leaving a stunned cashier behind them. Danny watched turned around in his seat, facing back to Bruce.

"A bat credit card?"

Batmam grinned.

"Never leave the cave without it."

Danny snorted, and tore into his burger. The thin, viscous and brown nasty sauce sprayed across his mouth. The flavors of lettuce covered with grease and cheese that had never met a cow met wet beef before his toungue found raw onion tangled in the tomatoes.

These flavors were nothing to the nail curling taste of nasty sauce. It hit him in jaw like a boxer whose mother he'd insulted. He smacked his toungue appriciatively, before turning to Batman.

He was driving, steady on the road, with his food in one hand. He had taken a bite clearly, besides the burger missing a chunk, the seperating mixture of Nasty Sauce was drawn in a thin circle around batman's mouth.

He looked perplexed.

"Is it good?" Danny asked, worried.

Batman licked his lips, clearing his face of the sauce.

"I don"t know." He said after a moment, before biting again.

And Danny supposed that was good enough: nasty burger is an acquired taste.

Once the meal was finished, Danny asked

"What do you need at Vlad corp?"

Batman crumpled his wax wrapping paper into a ball and pressed a button on the console, creating a small opening in the center console and dropping the paper in. Danny mimiced him, and the hatch closed.

"How much do you know about Vlad Masters?"

Too much was the correct answer; half ghost, millionaire, shoots lasers out of his hands and eats caviar.

"College friends of mom and dad. Rich inventor. Ran for mayor. Adopted me via lawsuit..."

Evil, scheming, powerful, short tempered...

"And insane."

Danny ventured he knew where the conversation was going. Where he hoped it was going.

Batman nodded. "He's planning something. Something involving Plasmius, and his feud with you. I'd like to know why. If you could tell me what Plasmius holds agienst you, that would help my investigation.

Danny swallowed. The red cushions he sat on seemed to stick to his skin, and the seat belt felt like a constrictor as clung around him. He was suddenly trying to pick the ejector seat button out of 20 or more dials around the center console.

How do I hide the fact I'm a ghost?

Danny's brain froze.

"Plasmius hates me because I'm trans."

That was stupid. It was correct, but it wasn't smart to say out loud. He panicked, the situation was too prickly, and he'd picked one of the thorns at random. Sure, Vlad hated him for not being a "Real Man", but the more sensible reason to say was that he represented the life with a woman he loved and would never have.

Danny felt weak and stupid.

He wanted to punch someone.

The car stopped.

"You'll be safe with the Wayne family. They're excentric, but I'm certain they can look after you for the time being."

The door opened.

"I'll be gone for half an hour. If I'm not back, please call commissioner Gordon of Gotham PD. There are snacks and water in the glove compartment."

The door closed.

[distortionbobble]

lies of the night.

pairing: bruce wayne/batman x f!reader x selina kyle

warnings: MINORS DNI. canon levels of violence, an unsuccessful human tr*fficking scheme that bats and you foil, really filthy smut, d/s dynamics, unprotected p in v, use of a strap on, oral (f! and m!receiving) . and a little wee bit of fluff yay

summary: you found the darkness and the day by working at 44 below. 

word count: 15k

a/n: pls let this post. oh my god. 

44 Below was a beast that fed on the souls of the desperate. 

Of course, you were sure that applied to probably every strip club to exist. The hordes of leering men (who wanted to get friendlier than their wives would like) often felt like flies, swarming and suffocating til you lost sense of your own skin. And they were everywhere, predators waiting for their prey to slip up. 

You still could remember the days leading up to your fall. Before you’d been so desperate for work after being fired from your job as a public elementary school teacher. Budget cuts, they’d said. You’d blinked back tears as you explained it to the kids, assuring them that the combined classes of 60 children would be just as good. 

A lie. 

After this, you showed up at the city council’s forums, nails chewed down to stubs with fists clenched as you pleaded desperately that the money be assigned to free lunches, because the gaunt faces of kids who’d skipped a few too many meals haunted you even in your sleep. It is of the highest priority to us, they’d said. You’ll get your job back soon. 

More lies. 

You’d wasted almost a month applying to every single job posting you could see, knocking door to door for any positions. 

Every single door was slammed shut in your face, countless emails addressing apologetically that they’d already filled up the position. A transfer was out of the question, far too expensive to even consider. So you watched as money slipped out of your hands like sand as you tried to grasp onto it desperately, watching your life crumble under Gotham’s poisonous touch. 

Then one night, as you’d trudged back to your apartment after another unsuccessful day of job hunting at the library, you’d heard it in the watery whispers of the dropheads lurking in the alleyways. Iceberg Lounge. 

The club name had made you pause in the street, nearly getting you pushed over as the crowd rushed relentlessly to whatever their fates had in store for them. 

It wasn’t a future you’d envisioned for yourself, ever, and you knew that going there would poison you slowly. But without it, you would starve within a month. You had no money, and if you didn’t act soon, you’d have no roof over your head either. 

Die quickly or slowly? 

You weren’t ready to go yet. Maybe you’d be able to get back on your feet, bide your time paying the bills with money carved out of your sacrifices until you could go back to teaching. And so you resigned yourself to the lechery of the club.

~~~ 

Gotham had been particularly cold the day you’d walked to Iceberg Lounge in hopes of a job. You remembered the dirty street water splashing up against your white heeled boots, cold air biting into your legs. Your trench coat did nothing to help against the cold, stuck to your skin from a mixture of sweat and rain. 

Your knuckles had rapped on the doors, exposing you to the watchful eyes of the two burly twins that stood guard to the lounge. 

They took one look at you and snatched you inside, the first hands to taint you with their greedy touch. 

The Penguin had been the second. He said you were more fit for 44 Below. The man insisted on “inspecting” all new hires, and the twins had stripped you of your coat, leaving you in the white lingerie and miniskirt you’d donned for the occasion. You could only hope you looked sexy enough as you bit back a shudder of revulsion as his inspection, hands lingering a little too long on your breasts and ass as he felt your figure to see if you.. passed. 

And you had, after a brief but dehumanizing dance at the Penguin’s request. 

“Anyone ever tell you’re like a bunny?” He commented as you headed out of the room, his eyes trained on your ass as you walked. It made you pause, this comment. How could he turn something as innocent as a bunny into fodder for his disgusting fantasies? It made your stomach churn.

“No, sir,” you responded weakly.

“It’s a good thing, bunny. Funny, though, how weak they are. They’re fun to hunt.” 

Then he laughed. The Penguin’s threat hung in the air, heavy on your soul as his meaning sunk in: he’d kill you if you set so much as one foot wrong. 

~~~

The first month had been hard. You’d adjusted quickly, though, learning to bite your tongue and bat your lashes flirtatiously as the upper class upstanding models of Gotham City gave into debauchery. You’d ditched the white lingerie, though, preferring glittery accessories instead. It was your way of tainting those who dared to touch you, leaving your mark for long enough that you hoped someone would see. 

And then you met Selina Kyle. 

“Can anyone help me get this fucking skirt off of me?” She groaned that night in the dressing room of the club. The other girls working that night were busy decorating their bodies, but you were just sitting there, hoping for a brief respite from the constant touching. 

“Hey, honey,” she called out to you, meeting your eyes in the mirror as she gestured to the miniskirt. 

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, hopping off the chair to go help her. Your fingers shook as you tugged on the zipper, hands clammy and cold despite the heat of the club. 

Warmth radiated from Selina’s skin, and you were distinctly aware of the smell of vanilla permeating your senses from your close proximity to her. A flutter you hadn’t felt in a long time rooted itself deep in your belly, making your hands tremble. You forced yourself to ignore the glow of her skin and her shape under your hands. 

Then it was over, the zipper finally freed from its clutches. 

“Thanks. Hey, you okay?” She’d asked, taking note of the glazed look in your eyes as you prepared yourself to go out there once again. 

“Yeah, it’s just… going out there makes me miserable,” you forced a laugh as you looked at her. Selina grinned at that, a real one, not like the ones you learned to give to the politicians-turned-comedians that occupied the tables of the lounge.

“You’re not the only one, honey,” she laughs. 

It hit you then, leaving you almost breathless as you drank in Selina’s radiance. She was the day, bright and joyous and strong and beautiful, and you couldn’t explain or understand it, but you needed her, the way that art needs resistance and death needs life. Selina Kyle was brightness in the doom and gloom of Gotham, and you were already addicted to her. And there wasn’t much left for you to do at this point other than smile at the hopelessness of your revelation, because she would never be yours, no matter how much you tried. 

But being close to her was all you needed, like gasping for air while trying to swim. Maybe she wouldn’t be yours, maybe she couldn’t keep you afloat, but none of that matters, because for now, just the thought of her could keep you going. 

So after your shift, after you wiped the remnants of glitter and sweat from the hands of others off of your skin, you sought out Selina before she hailed a cab home. 

“Selina!” You were in her line of sight now, and her smile was sweet and kind. You forced yourself to offer your name up, and she echoed it in kind before looking at you patiently. “Um, I know we just met today, but a girl’s gotta have friends, yanno? So, so I was wondering if you’d like to meet up at my apartment— or your apartment, if you’re more comfortable with that— for food? Or drinks? On Friday?”

“Sure, honey. Your apartment sounds great.” She smiled brightly at you before getting into the cab that pulled towards the both of you at the signal of her hand. You watched the taxi pull away, heart full of promise; for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel so... Alone. 

~~~

Your walk home was longer than usual, but any solace you’d felt at getting home was cut short when you felt strong arms pull you from your door out onto the fire escape of your apartment. You were pulled flush against the stiff, cold panes of Batman’s metallic armor, feeling your breathing halt in fear. 

“Don’t move,” he growled quietly, his lips just brushing the shell of your ear. You were too aware of the way his gloved hand gripped your jaw, the softness of the leather against your lips, and the way his forearm pushed against the bottom of your breasts slightly. You attempted to protest against his hold, but he only gripped you tighter before you could hear the quiet footfall of someone in your apartment. You froze against him, breath starting to come out faster before he loosened his hold on you and spun you round. He gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him through your panicked haze. 

Then your door creaked open and swung shut, before the intruder stalked away into the shadowy maze of your apartment building. Batman looked at you, allowing a single gloved finger to rest against his lips before he lifted you into his arms and jumped noiselessly into the building. He let you down gently before sliding a thin metal device below your door. Batman waited a minute before he nodded at you and swung your door open, shoving you inside unceremoniously. 

The darkness of your apartment took you aback, allowing you a brief moment of respite before your eyes registered the slight smoke and pulsing red lights from various points in your apartment. 

“He bugged you,” Batman stated emotionlessly. 

“W-what? Who? Why? Why me?” You rattled out, knees locking as you swayed dangerously. Batman took note of this and wrapped a single arm around your waist before lowering you gently onto your couch and kneeling down before you.

He sighed quietly, inspecting his hands before looking at you. “You work at 44 Below, yes?” 

“Yes,” you bit out. 

“How many of your coworkers in the past month just stopped showing up one day?” 

“Three,” you said automatically. Padma, Nikita, Katie. You’d assumed they’d gotten out somehow, free of the sickness of 44 Below, but the way that Batman looked at you now told you differently. “What happened to them?” You whispered, but you already knew the answer.

“He’s been hunting women down. Most likely one of your patrons at the Lounge. There’s so much crime in Gotham that it almost slipped under my radar. He visits their table every night, follows them home, then bugs their apartment right before they disappear. Whoever he is, he has enough money to get near-undetectable bugs. The issue, though, is that I’m unsure if it’s just one man or many. It’s possible it’s a trafficking op, which would make things much more complicated. The thing is, though, it’s highly individualistic. He won’t move on until he gets you, or I stop him.” 

Trafficking. The word made you sick to your stomach and you gripped Batman’s arms tighter out of fear. 

“Look at me. I won’t let that happen to you, do you understand?” You nodded, but felt the hollowness of his promise. After all, he was only one man, and Gotham’s web of darkness was sure to get his attention before you could. And what would happen then? Would your disappearance even make the news? “I need to act fast. And for now, I need you to wear a tracker. It doubles as a mic, so I’ll be able to hear everything you do. We need to put it somewhere discreet, do you understand?” He held out a small round object towards you. You grasped it quickly and stared at the object in your hand.  

It felt like it was burning in your palm, and you ripped off the trench coat you wore, leaving you only in your scandalous work outfit before him.

“Help me figure out where to put it so it won’t be seen. If he’s at my work, he’ll be able to see almost all parts of me.” Your voice shook as Batman’s gaze ran over you, lingering for just a heartbeat longer on the exposed and glimmering skin of your breasts, which were bare save the glittery tape crossed over it. 

“Can we stick it under the tape?” He asked. You weren’t sure if you were imagining the gruffness of his voice. 

“No, I- they’re pierced, there’s no extra room for it to go without sticking out,” you confessed. The heat in his gaze as he met your eyes made the skin of your face warm. For a brief second, you allowed yourself to imagine the man standing before you bare, before he broke the spell and looked down back at his gloved hands. 

Then, he stepped closer, warm hands settling on your waist before spinning you round and ghosting up the length of your back. His hands settled on the nape of your neck, brushing aside the long hair that collected there before adhering the cold object to your skin and sweeping the hair into place. And his hands rested there for just a second, thumbs pressed lightly against the muscles of your neck before he pulled away, so quickly you thought you imagined it. 

“Your hair should cover it. This is just for backup, to make sure nothing goes wrong.” 

“No.” You surprised yourself with the conviction in your voice. “Use me as bait.” 

Batman looked at you sharply, and he could see through the layers you had in that instant. You were just like him, in a way, and he understood you perfectly. You were a force that couldn’t be stopped. 

“It’s too dangerous,” he rebutted anyway. He hadn’t known you for more than an hour, but there was something addicting about you. His affections for you were dangerous, and he knew it. 

“I don’t fucking care. I can’t allow this to happen to anyone else. If you don’t think you can handle it, fine, but I’m not going down without having a part in this. I have nothing to lose.” You answered his strike with one of your own. The verbal match the two of you held was a battleground, the quick pace of your words contrasting the slow footsteps you took as you circled your apartment.

His eyes didn’t leave you once. 

You took his silence and the frustration in his gaze as resignation before giving a wry smirk and stepping closer. Your hand settled on his cheek gently, with an intimacy you couldn’t explain or rationalize. All you knew was that it felt… right. 

“Wear these contacts,” he grumbled in resignation, retrieving a small case from his pocket before handing it to you.  

“I’m gonna go to work tomorrow, okay? And I’m gonna put on a fucking show. You’re gonna let me get taken, do you understand?” He nodded his reluctant agreement, jaw clenched as he blinked at you slowly. He didn’t like it, you could tell, but he had no choice. You let him go, and he almost flew out the front door in his haste. You locked it behind him, and sighed before sliding down against the door as the gravity of the situation pulled you downwards. 

By this time tomorrow, you could be dead. 

~~~

Sleep was a fruitless endeavor. You laid in bed, choked by the moonlight and the false protection of the glowing bat symbol in the sky. What did it all mean? What had you accomplished? You weren’t ready to go, not yet. The life you had lived thus far was unfulfilled, incomplete. 

And yet. 

You were left with no choice. Either they’d kill you tomorrow, or Batman could stop them. And if he could stop them, you’d rather have the threat permanently eliminated rather than live in fear of the next rat sniffing around to bring you to the grimy depths of Gotham’s underworld. 

When the gray light of daybreak illuminated your apartment, you rubbed the exhaustion from your face before you got up to fight another day. 

You took extra care as you got ready, like a warrior performing her ritual. It gave you a sense of unfounded strength, determination set into your bones as you went through the painstaking process of making yourself perfect. Then, you slipped on the contacts that Batman had left you with. 

If your aggressor had already gone as far as entering your apartment, your sanctuary, he probably wasn’t far from breaking. If you were tempting enough tonight, he’d act quickly. 

You took one final look in the mirror before you marched off to your battlefield. Hell on Earth was going to face an Angel of Death. 

~~~

“Honey!” Selina’s voice called out to you as you hung up your coat and the few possessions you’d brought tonight up in the dressing room. “You look good.” Her praise made blood rush to your head, and you closed your eyes to savor the sweetness of her compliment before offering her a smile and twirling for her. 

“You always look good, Selina,” you laughed lightly. You checked the time— there was still almost an hour left before you had to go on. You didn’t know why you’d left so early, but at least Selina was here. 

“You got here early, huh?” She asked you quietly, and tapped the space next to her. You nodded, abandoning your makeup chair to sit next to her as she chewed thoughtfully on a bagel. It must’ve been her lunch break. 

“Selina?” Your head fell onto her shoulder as you soaked up the sweetness of her. 

“Yeah, honey?” Selina rested her head on yours briefly before returning to her food. 

“Why’d you start workin’ here?” You asked. She paused before leaning forward to toss her bagel into a little brown paper bag, appetite abandoned. 

“My mama. She worked here before she died. I was nine years old with nothing. Didn’t have anywhere else to go, so when I was old enough, I found myself back here. At the same damn place it all started,” she laughed dryly. You said nothing, but slipped your hand into hers, squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry, Lina,” you murmured. There wasn’t much else to say. Both of you sat in silence, mourning a future that never was, before she squeezed your hand and broke the silence. 

“What about you, baby?” Baby. Why did that word sound so good falling off her lips? Gentle, musical. You wanted her to say it again. 

“I was a teacher. Those goddamn pigs decided that they’d rather fatten their wallets instead of giving the kids a proper education. Lost my job, almost lost everything. Gotham’s job market is fucking dismal. Ended up here.” She was silent again, nodding quietly against your head. 

“Real angel you are, huh, baby?” She laughed, the bright sound a source of comfort as you nestled closer against her. You snorted at her declaration. “No, I’m serious. I can tell you cared about them.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered. It felt like time was frozen with you in her arms, an oasis in the midst of a desert of misery. You allowed yourself to pretend, for a second, that she was your lover. That holding her was something you’d done a hundred times and would do hundreds more. 

“Hey, so, for this Friday, should I bring some wine? We’re having dinner, right?” Selina asked you. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you didn’t know if you’ll be alive by then, so you just stiffly nodded. 

“Italian sound good?” You asked. Your voice threatened to break but you forced yourself to swallow the lump in your throat and smile instead. 

“That sounds lovely. I’ll bring a nice bottle of red, then. Think I’ve got some sitting around somewhere,” she said, smiling. Selina brought a slim hand to your face and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Then she pressed a swift kiss to your cheek, lips lingering for just a second longer than friendly, and left you with your body tingling and mind racing to commit that fleeting instant to memory. 

You wondered distantly if Batman was watching, and if he was fazed by what he’d seen at all. You wished he was there, to allow you to borrow some of his strength for the task you had to face now. If Selina was the light and sunshine of the day, Batman was the comfort and security of the night. Perhaps you needed them both. 

~~~

When the hour had passed, you strutted out to begin your performance. Before now, you’d only ever danced on the stages, confined to the limits and safety of it. Today, though, you knew you needed to take it further. Especially considering how you most likely needed to look at each person for just long enough so that their biometrics could all be captured. 

You began your performance on the stage, as always, so as not to raise any suspicions. Then you strayed to the edge, twisting your body in the dim light so that the glimmering reflections on your body would make you seem diamond-like. 

You needed everyone’s eyes on you.

Your hands trailed down the length of your body, and you bent your legs slowly as you continued until you were kneeling before the crowd, continuing to explore your curves before them as you bridged the distance between your back and the floor. Your legs were spread, and you were sure that the position offered you little protection from the crowd’s hungry gaze. 

You didn’t want to think about what raced through their minds. Instead, you found yourself pretending that it was just Batman, alone in the crowd as you performed your seduction. The thought made your breath hitch and your performance imperceptibly realer. You wanted him to want you, wanted to feel his gaze burn you alive as he consumed you. 

But you had no time for distraction.  You forced yourself up, sliding yourself off the stage on the floor of the lounge, where you crawled into the lap of every powerful man and woman there. Your guess was that whoever your stalker was, he’d have a hard time following the club’s no-touch boundaries. So you forced yourself to act like you were just as hungry as they were, staring straight into their eyes as you moved your body fluidly above countless others. 

Then you felt it. The sharp, punishing pinch on your ass as you decorated some unworthy man’s chest with your hands, hovering only slightly above his body. You looked into his eyes, a sick grin spread across his face as his hand made its way to your hip, gripping it harshly as he slammed your body down to meet his pelvis. A stunned gasp left your lips as he laughed jeeringly at you, taking the noise as a sign of your attraction to him. 

You forced a smile as you got up slowly, headed to the next patron before you took the calculated risk to look back at him. He’d undoubtedly take this as an invitation that you wanted more. 

If you had done this right, he’d act tonight itself.

 ~~~ 

The rest of your shift had passed uneventfully. He’d disappeared soon after you’d been on top of him, and you were confident it meant he was waiting in the shadows, or maybe at your apartment, to snatch you from reality. 

Selina had bid you goodbye with another soft kiss to your cheek, and you wished you were brave enough to kiss her before you left.  If you made it out alive, you’d kiss her, you promised yourself.

“Batty?” You whispered. “Look, I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope you can. But just… please, keep me safe.” Your prayers to the city’s guardian disappeared like smoke into the Gotham streets, and you could only hope he heard. 

Each step you took only increased your fear, anticipation building within you as you headed to the mouth of the beast. Your safe haven was now the lion’s den. You reached your apartment, hands trembling as you fumbled with your keys to unlock the door. You were sure you could hear the heartbeat of another behind the door, each beat slamming into you, threatening to silence your own heart. 

You stepped into the darkness of your apartment and were instinctually comforted by the familiarity of your space before you felt the sharp prick of a needle in your arm, and the darkness swallowed you whole. 

~~~

You woke to darkness, the dryness of your mouth cutting into your throat and you whimpered helplessly as you felt the restraints cutting into your skin. Your skin felt cold, and the sinking realization that the bastards had taken the liberty of undressing you made your stomach sink. 

But Batman would get you. You were sure of it. 

The lullaby of the water crashing into itself made you realize that you were near the seawall. You noted that there was no motion underneath you, so you were most likely outdoors on the ground, judging by the roughness of the ground below you. 

“Good morning, princess,” a taunting voice addressed you as you faked struggle with your restraints. You could feel him near you, a hand brushing against your bare skin before you heard the unmistakable sound of leather colliding against skin and his body thudding to the ground. 

“I’m here, I have you,” Batman comforted you as he pulled you up gently with one hand. He untied the rope of your restraints and slipped the blindfold off your head. Batman kept his eyes trained on your own, not daring to stray to your nude form as he slipped his cape off to cover you. You leaned into him for comfort, and he held you tightly as you waited out the shock and terror of the kidnapping and violation that you’d been through. 

Your kidnapper groaned, and Batman let go of you to slam his head unceremoniously into the ground. You picked up the rope, knotting the kidnapper’s hands tightly as Batman sat him up, and stepped back. 

“What now?” You asked quietly. 

“Do you recognize him?” Batman responded stiffly. “Jonathan Bailey. He’s the governor’s aide. Trusted right hand man. If he’s involved, there’s a chance that this goes up higher than him. I’ll run a background check, see if there’s any ties to the mafia.” You nodded at this, but sighed in frustration. 

“Bats. If he’s supposed to signal to someone else, someone higher up, him doing it late or not doing it at all could alert them that we’re onto them. We gotta wake him up, Bats.” You kicked Jonathan’s unconscious form in anger, and Batman surveyed you quietly before withdrawing a vial from his side. 

“Drops? Tell me it’s not drops. That’s a terrible idea. If he’s delirious, he won’t remember the protocol.” Batman shook his head at your questioning.

“Adrenaline.” Then he jabbed the skin above Jonathan’s clavicle, and the man woke with a sharp gasp. His gaze flitted frantically from side to side, like a cornered rabid animal. 

“Jonathan Bailey. We know that you’re involved in a human trafficking scheme. Who else is in on this?” Batman growled in his face, yanking him upwards as Jonathan grinned wolfishly. 

“Vengeance himself? For this common whore?” He spat out, poisonous eyes drinking you in when Batman shook him roughly. 

“You don’t deserve to look at her,” Batman hissed angrily. 

“Enough of this. Who do you signal to, and how were you going to do it? And when?” You questioned him, raising your voice. Jonathan ignored you, choosing to focus on the concrete ground of the docks. 

“Answer her,” Batman threatened. You squatted down, tightly pulling and twisting Jonathan’s genitals away from his body, making him howl in pain. 

“I’ll rip them right out,” you sneered in his face, squeezing painfully as he gasped. 

“Please, no,” he whined. “I have a wife and kids,” he begged. 

“You sick bastard,” you whispered in his face. “Do your kids know? That daddy’s the monster that mommy warns them about?”

“My kids are innocent, unlike you, you dirty slut,” Jonathan responded venomously. You let go of him, and whirled around to grasp one of Batman’s knife-like accessories from his side. You stalked back to Jonathan, the hefty metal warm in your palm as you sliced and dug the blade firmly into his thigh. The man screamed in pain, and you stepped back to allow Batman to take the lead. 

“Tell us how to trigger the next in the chain to come and get her,” Batman instructed. You could hear the danger in his tone, and judging by the look on Jonathan’s face, he did too. 

“You won’t kill me,” Jonathan gulped. 

“There are fates worse than death,” Batman whispered. “I could destroy every part of your legacy. Your kids will be left with nothing. No, death would be a mercy for you. So choose, Bailey.” 

It was silent as Jonathan deliberated his fate, his struggle illuminated only by the dim glow of the lights in the Gotham skyscrapers. 

“Okay,” Jonathan relented. You fought to hide the glee from your success, instead turning to face Batman’s stoic face as he glared Jonathan down. “You have to light a fire in that barrel, the one right there. You have no longer than five minutes, then you put it out. To your left you’ll see the waterfront’s tide warning light. Watch for the light to switch on and off three times, then you light the fire again to confirm that the package is good for delivery. I’m gone by that time, and you’re unconscious, so it goes smoothly.” Jonathan looked at you now, making your skin crawl in revulsion. 

“Where will they take her?” Batman demands. 

“A warehouse. That’s where they do most of the processing, and the bidding happens virtually by stream. And when they kill you at the warehouse, they’ll sell her to the highest bidder and she’ll be branded with their name. It was fun playing your little game of intimidation, Batman. It’s a shame you’ll be dead soon.” 

His taunts got to Batman, and the vigilante slammed Jonathan’s head into his knee, leaving him passed out and restrained on the ground. Then he turned to you, eyes heavy and dark and filled with promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. 

“It’s okay, Bats,” you nodded gravely. “Send the signal.” 

~~~

Batman had sent the signal before swiftly hiding Jonathan and retreating into the shadows. You knew he was there, his presence a lifeline as you held back tremors. For the plot to work, he had to take back his cape, leaving you bare under Gotham’s rain. Batman had shown you respect in averting his gaze when he took it back, something you were immensely grateful for. He refused to be part of your humiliation. 

Your skin was sticky from the rainwater and a chill began to seep into your bones when the sound of a car door slamming shut indicated the start of the second phase. You allowed yourself to remain lax and fluid as you were thrown into the back of a vehicle, only slightly disoriented by the swiftness in which they acted. Despite the blindfold, though, you were sure that you could sense the Batmobile trailing behind your temporary prison. 

As they drove to the warehouse, you heard the subtle murmur of voices. They discussed mundane things; groceries, their plans for the night. The conversation seemed more fitting for the subway than a kidnapping. 

The ride there didn’t take long, either. Your fear threatened to swallow you when the vehicle halted, but you forced yourself to keep calm. Your silent prayer that Batman was nearby felt more like a mantra as they delivered a firm backhand to wake you up. 

It felt more like a jarring nightmare as they inspected you. The contacts in your eyes allowed you to quickly assess each person, revealing higher and higher connections with each step of the processing. Those in charge simply supervised as their henchmen groped and leered, all in the name of inspection, before you were led to a single stage, where the bidding began. 

And then you heard it. 

The softest thud of the unconscious meeting the darkness. You realized before they did. 

He’s here. 

Batman’s work was like art. There was a different beauty in seeing them realize, in growing horror, that something was wrong. That they were in danger. 

That they were trapped. 

They flocked to him, attempting futilely to bring him down. Batman was able to defend himself from every punch, even grasping the leg of someone who attempted to kick him before flipping and tossing him into the others. Punches flew through the air in perfect sequential order as he blocked each punch in fluid motion. The bright flashing chaos of bullets flying through the air did nothing to stop him or slow him down, seemingly fueling him as he ducked and took down the rest by the legs. 

Batman’s metal blade sliced through the air, arcing upwards and shattering the lightbulb. You were immersed in darkness as you stood in the center, but you felt no fear. The darkness was a blanket of safety as you savored the vengeance he exacted on them from your safety in the center. A bright flash stunned you, and you were dimly aware of the hollow smile frozen on your face as a bullet grazed the side of your arm. 

You imagined seeing it from their perspective instead, your haunting smile burning into their corneas as a symbol of their desires turning on them before they met justice. The thought made you stand taller, even as the warm trickle of scarlet blood ran its course down your arm. Your fingertips were covered in blood, but for some reason, you only felt stronger. 

A face, softened from the darkness, appeared in your vision. He was limping away from Batman, straight to his doom. Your bloodied hand raised on its own accord, catching him by the neck before you slammed him downwards, allowing your body to weigh your hand down further as you watched the terror in his eyes meet your empty smile and fade as his consciousness waned. Your grip tightened as he choked, anger swelling within you. You wanted to kill him. 

But you were swept away from his passed-out body by the firm arms that you’d begun to associate with Batman. You attempted to struggle against him, despite you knowing there was no hope, but he only held you tighter. 

“Don’t go down that path,” he murmured, lips just barely touching the back of your ear as he leaned down to your head. The anguish in his voice broke your spell of anger, and you sank into him weakly as exhaustion set in. You were still naked, and the blood loss was beginning to dizzy you. Batman tore a singular strip of cloth from his cape, tying it above your arm to limit the blood flow as he retrieved a roll of gauze and alcohol from his utility belt and began to patch you up. 

“You’re much more injured than I am,” you whispered. Truthfully, the pain you’d felt in Batman’s voice had made you regretful of your actions, and you almost wanted to pass out from pain and shame. You wanted to suffer for hurting him. 

Batman paused as he poured the stinging alcohol into your wound, noting how your wince wasn’t one of pain but rather one of you barely restraining the tears in your eyes, and looked down at your bleeding arm again. 

“I understand what you were feeling,” he said lowly. You felt humiliated, almost as if your morality had sunk to the point that you didn’t deserve to be treated with such kindness by him. “Look at me,” he said to you, more firmly this time. You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You’re not a bad person for wanting vengeance. You’re only human. You didn’t kill him.” 

“I wanted to,” you confessed. He nodded quietly at your admission before he snapped off his cape again to cover you with it. 

“I wanted to kill all of them, too. For the way they touched you.” 

“What now?” You asked him, feeling small as you huddled further into his cape. The flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers filtering in through the ceiling windows of the warehouse answered your question as Batman looked at you wordlessly. 

Soon, the building was covered by the officials, who handcuffed the men passed out on the floor. Some of them had begun to upload the information on the computers to flash drives, while others bagged parts from the warehouse for evidence.

All of them, except for Commissioner Gordon, looked at you and Batman with disdain. 

“Miss?” One of them asked. “We need to take a statement from you.” You nodded at him, still seated in your position with Batman’s silent protection shielding you from the side. The officer glanced briefly at the brooding shadow at your side, then added: “Alone.” 

“He stays,” you objected. Commissioner Gordon nodded with resignation, and the officer jotted down your statement in thinly veiled annoyance. 

“There’s three other girls that we need to find,” Batman commanded. You offered their names quietly, ready for it to be over and go home.  

“We’ll find them,” Gordon promised. 

~~~

“It’s deeper than just this,” you sighed when you got into the Batmobile. The engine hummed as Batman brought it to life, but the safety of the car only made you feel trapped. 

“We’ll uncover it all. But for now, stay vigilant. They might come after you, even after all this.” You felt fear prick your cheeks, cut into your skin, invasive and alien as it settled itself into your heart. 

“Can I ask you something, Bats?” You choked out. You didn’t know why you were so afraid. You’d made it out today, and you’d make it out alive tomorrow. He spared you a brief glance of confirmation before he turned back to the road. 

“Why didn’t you just leave it to the cops?” 

“The cops... They’re blinded to the plight of the less fortunate of Gotham. Evil doesn’t sleep, it makes its way in the darkness. But I don’t sleep. If I didn't act fast enough, it would grow. I should’ve noticed sooner.” 

“I hope the girls are okay,” you murmured. Your head drooped against the side of the seat closest to him, and you allowed yourself to feel safe for a few moments. The Batmobile moved quickly, silently, and you reached home sooner than you would’ve preferred. 

Because at home, he wasn’t there.

It seemed like he could read your plight, because he reached over to release you from your seatbelt and got out from his door as well. When your legs buckled from under you after you got out of your seat, he caught you and trudged up the stairs of your apartment with you in his arms.

Exhaustion made him weary and weak, and by the time you were able to reach your apartment, Batman was leaning against the wall for support. 

“C’mon, Bats,” you whispered, pulling out a key from under the doormat to unlock it and shoving him inside unceremoniously. Dull protests fell from his lips, but they quickly gave way to his gratefulness for the chance to rest. You fumbled around in the darkness as you grasped two glasses of water, filling them up and dragging yourself next to him. He took the water from you, mumbling a silent thanks as you both took a minute to just breathe. 

You were aware of your nudity as you sat next to him, covered only by his cape, but you still felt comfortable next to him. The darkness of the night had forged a good man, and you counted your blessings to have him next to you in that moment. But then he groaned when you shifted, and you realized that he was also in pain. 

“Okay, Bruce,” you called out as you grabbed the first aid kid from beneath your sink. “You can take off the cowl now.” He looked at you in shock, but you ignored it as you spun around to sit on the ground between his knees. “I’m not an idiot, you know,” you murmured as you scanned him for any obvious wounds through his clothing. 

“How did you figure it out?” He hissed, grabbing your arm tightly.

“You can relax, I won’t tell anyone. But the giveaway is how nice your shit is. That costs money, Bats. That, coupled with the fact that you’re out there every night. That means free time, that means you’re not in public enough for people to notice sleep deprivation and injury. Wealthy, recluse, cares about the city and is, at heart, a good man?” 

“I am no good man,” Bruce objected, but you tugged off the cowl from his face and tossed the mask aside. 

“You are.” Your hands strayed to the sides of his face, running your fingers through the damp strands. He closed his eyes at your reassurance, and you found yourself pressing the pads of your fingertips into his temples and rubbing gently. You wondered distantly when the last time this lonely man had been cared for, had been loved. 

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered. 

He was beautiful. The fractured scars on his skin had stolen the stars from Gotham’s night sky and laid there now, with a powerful radiance against the backdrop of the city's darkness. He thrived in this dingy place with too many things wrong to identify. Bruce Wayne’s skin was soft under your touch, and you wanted to put the pieces of him together and make him whole. You shifted slightly, and he winced again, reminding you of the wounds littered across his skin. 

“Bats, I need to take care of your wounds,” you reminded him. He snarled in annoyance when you got up from his lap and tugged his clothes lightly, but your pout made him cave in and he quickly shed the layers of outwear, sitting on your couch in nothing but his boxers. 

The rain spilling against the walls of the building distorted the glow of the night, creating a muted and incomplete rainbow against Bruce’s pale skin. You slipped on some sterile gloves before dabbing gauze doused in alcohol to the edges of his wounds. He showed no indication of pain and the darkness from his eye makeup hid the subtleties of expression. His stoicism made you wonder how many times he’d done this. Had he done them all alone?

Thankfully for the both of you, Bruce had no major wounds (save some bruises that were beginning to purple, and the slight nicks on his skin that you were able to sterilize and bandage. 

You hadn’t realized it, but at some point, you’d fallen into him. Skin on skin, pressed against the hard and soft parts of him. His heart beat in its cage underneath your ear, and you thought for a moment that you could get addicted to the sound. 

“Come on, let’s go to your room. I think you might fall asleep on me,” Bruce said softly. You nodded silently, but made no move to get up. He laughed quietly, then secured you in his arms before he got up. 

“Shower first,” you protested sleepily. 

“What?” 

“We’re not getting into my clean bed with our dirty, sweaty selves. Not a damn chance in hell. Shower first.” Bruce sighed at your logic but headed towards the bathroom anyways, seating you on the small shaving ledge in your cramped standing shower before he turned away. 

“I can’t do this on my own,” you whined. You knew you were being a bit of a baby, but in your defense, you really wanted to shower with him, and it had been a rough fucking day. You carefully and quickly plucked the contacts from your eyes and replaced them in their case, then got back into the stall. 

Bruce stripped himself of the boxers and turned the shower on, getting into the stall with you. It was cramped, enough so that the two of you were pressed up against each other as the warm water streamed onto your skin. You lathered up the soap between your hands, and moved to clean yourself, but Bruce enveloped your small hands with his own and placed them on his chest. You rubbed it in circles, slowly, tracing the scars on his chest with love and care. His muscles were taut under your hands, thick and soft as the Prince of Gotham relaxed under your touch. 

He grabbed the soap as well, pressing your body with hands covered in suds and massaging your tight muscles. He was gentle in his handling of you, and you wondered if he was replacing all of the marks that so many hands have left on your body with the imprints of his own hands. He marked you, with each fleeting soap sud that popped under the assault of the showerhead, before dropping down to his knees to continue his gentle claiming of you. 

His eyes remained fixed on yours still, with so much unsaid that it was suffocating when it merged with the thick warm steam of the shower. Bruce got up again, using his hands to wash any trace of your hurt before squeezing shampoo into his hands and massaging your scalp in circular motions with the tips of his fingers. He brought you closer to him, holding you as he continued to wash you with care and adoration, and the world became just the two of you in your cramped shower. No threats, no fear, just safety. 

After he’d washed your hair, dried himself off and patted you dry with a towel with such delicacy you thought he was afraid you’d break. But then he looked at you, with those eyes full of dark sweetness like pools of honey, and you did break. 

“I’m fine,” you muttered, leaning into his touch as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you repeated, backing away from him. Your voice rose steadily in pitch, panicked and flighty as he just looked at you with understanding. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he whispered, his hand reached out towards you but hovering just a hair’s breadth away from you. He allowed you to come to him, before Bruce wrapped his arms around you and cocooned you in his embrace. 

“I’m just so tired,” you sobbed. He nodded, face pressed against your hair, then swept you up again and carried you to your bed. 

“I can sleep on the floor if it’ll make you feel safer,” he offered, but you shook your head before he could finish his statement. 

“No, please. I feel safer with you.” Bruce laid down next to you, stiff, but the warmth radiating off of him calmed you and you could feel the familiar numbing as exhaustion overtook you and your conscience faded into the backdrop of Gotham. 

~~~

The cold morning made itself known when you woke up to the traces of light that had made it through the clouds. Bruce’s arm laid on your waist, holding you to his body loosely as the sound of his breathing filled the room. You were warm and the safety of Bruce’s embrace made you melt into him as you relived the events of yesterday. You couldn’t help the shudders running through your body when you thought of where you would’ve been without Bruce, and you sat up abruptly, trying to regain your breath as your vision blurred and dizziness made the room spin. 

“Everything okay?” Bruce mumbled gruffly from beside you, voice scratchy from hours of rest. You nodded, unable to look at him, and scanned the room to focus on something and ground yourself from a spiral you were sure would happen. 

“Yeah. Just— just processing,” you whispered. You felt his gaze on your back before he sat up and placed a big warm hand onto your bare shoulder.

“You don’t have to be okay, you know,” he said cautiously. Your stomach growled at that moment, and he gave a quiet laugh before he hoisted himself out of the bed. 

“Rest. I’ll make you some breakfast,” he said. Then he leaned over and kissed your hair, before sliding his boxers on and leaving your room.  You fell back onto the gray sheets of your bed and stared at the ceiling. You wished those men had never touched you. There was no point in wishing that now, though, because you’d done what you needed to. Everything was okay now. So why did you want to break something with your bare hands? Why did you want to scream and sob and bash in the skulls of the men from last night? Your hands craved violence, your heart craved peace. And you sat somewhere in the margins of those two things, taken over by the tide of exhaustion and desperately trying to get a hold before you drowned. 

Above all, though, you didn’t want it happening again. Ever. Not to you, not to anyone else. You couldn’t give it up now, but the thought of them coming after you now instilled fear and nausea within you. You got up from the bed and shivered when the cold air hit your uncovered skin, and walked over silently to the kitchen where Bruce had managed to scramble some eggs and was looking rather furiously at the pan. “Bats,” you murmured. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Do eggs always take this long?” he asked furiously, pushing it around with a spatula and scowling when it remained liquidy. Then you looked at the stove. 

“Bruce. Sweetie. You didn’t turn it on.” He looked up at you in shock, then bent down to look at the controls and sheepishly switched it on. You smiled at his antics, then returned to your bedroom to grab an oversized shirt and joined Bruce at the counter to eat. 

He had plated two portions of scrambled eggs, without salt or pepper or any seasoning. You laughed in disbelief at that, and fetched paprika, salt, and pepper from your cupboards and sprinkled it onto both. 

“There,” you grinned at him while he quickly stuffed himself with the fluffy eggs. You snorted. “I still can’t believe you didn’t turn the fucking stove on, you absolute duck.” “Hey, in my defense, I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve touched a stove, ever.” 

“I think I’m both touched by the fact that you decided to break your streak of never touching the stove just to make breakfast for me and absolutely also baffled by the fact that you’ve never touched a stove in your life.”

“Never needed to,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, but I mean… you’ve never seen something on the cooking channel or the internet and been like, damn I wanna make that it looks yum?” You asked. Bruce shook his head in response, done with his eggs, and went to the sink to rinse off his plate. “Do you need me to pull up a tutorial on how to wash dishes or do you have that covered?” You snickered. Bruce looked at you, deadpan, then proceeded to wash his dishes like a normal human being, thankfully. 

“Okay, so hold on. You’ve never cooked or baked or anything?” Bruce shook his head again at your question, and you flexed your hands in excitement. 

“I’m getting the feeling that I shouldn’t have told you that,” he guessed, laughing when your face split into a wide grin and you jumped up from the seat, eggs long gone. 

“We, Bruce motherfuckin’ Wayne, are making brownies. Box mix brownies, and you, my little  Prince, are gonna learn the genius of Betty Crocker. So, answer me this, Batman, are you prepared to be graced with the commoners’ staple?” Bruce grinned and shrugged, and you accepted this as agreement. 

“So, one question, do you have this box mix already?” He asked. 

“Nope,” you called out, walking to your room to grab the spare shirt and sweatpants left by your ex when he broke up with you years ago. “You’re gonna brave the journey of the grocery store.”

~~~

“Won’t someone recognize me?” Bruce hissed in your ear as the two of you walked under the rain to the corner store next to your apartment. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweets,” you grinned, turning to look at him before swinging the door to the store wide open. Once inside, Bruce trailed you like a shadow as you strolled through the store leisurely, grabbing a 12 pack of condoms and the box mix from the shelf. 

Mary from the counter greeted you, then frowned when she saw the man looming behind you. 

“Do I know him?” she asked, studying him intensely. Bruce froze behind you, and you took the opportunity to slam the pack of condoms onto the counter to divert her attention. 

“Hinge date,” you responded with a grin. Mary wasn’t the most open-minded. You had come in here before to grab a couple pregnancy tests or buy lube with the occasional guy or girl, and she’d always been unable to make eye contact with you for up to a week after the event.

“That’ll be $20.22,” she mumbled quietly, gaze fixed on the keyboard as you swiped your key quickly and twirled out with the grumpy man by your side.  

“See? Wasn’t that fun?” You teased him when you got back to your apartment, after locking the door and peeling the wet jacket off of your skin. Bruce smiled at you hesitantly before studying the box of brownie mix in his hands. Then he quickly retrieved something from the depths of the utility belt that laid next to him, and followed you to your small kitchen where you preheated the oven and grabbed a whisk, a few bowls and measuring tools, and the eggs needed for the mix. 

“Okay, Bats. You’re on measuring duty and if my arms get tired you’re on mix and everything else duty. And by all means, you are legally required to sneak a taste of the batter before you put it into the oven, because who fucking cares about salmonella? Just grow up,” you rambled, oblivious to him standing behind you and zeroing each of the measuring tools before spooning out precise amounts of the brownie mix. 

“On it,” he said grimly, after he removed just the smallest amount from the mix and watched it return to the exact weight recommended on the box. You watched him repeat this process three more times with curiosity in your eyes, and burst into laughter when he knelt down to be eye level with the measuring cup. 

“Sweetie, it doesn’t need to be that exact,” you giggled, then laughed even harder when he shook his head and mumbled something about needing perfection. You abandoned him to turn on the ages-old record player in your living room, and the heartbeat of Queen’s I Want to Break Free pulsed in the air of your apartment. The rain outside still pounded against the windows, but inside it was warm, and joyous, and your heart felt so very full in that moment. 

Bruce turned to you, measurements completed, and gruffly handed the bowl of measured-out mix to you. You grasped the whisk and began to loosen the flour before you cracked the egg into it, and he watched you with scrutiny, making note of every move you made. 

“Okay, okay, you know the chorus to this one?” You asked him, whisking the eggs and water into the dry mix as you stood up and began to move your hips to the beat. “You’re gonna drop it,” he warned cautiously, but you just laughed and began to sing the bridge loudly. 

“Come on, Bruce! Relax and sing a little. I want to break free,” You sang out loudly, off-key but happy as you twirled around with the mix still in your hands. Bruce’s baritone voice rumbled in the confines of your apartment, a sound that was cautiously optimistic like he’d never sang before, and you turned to grin at him before putting the mix down and strolling over to him. 

“Shall we dance, my Prince?” You held out your hand and bowed, only semi mocking as he took your hand and laughed. 

He had a beautiful laugh, you thought to yourself. Especially now, when he was unrestrained and the sound echoed from the walls, a boisterous expression of joy. 

You were glad he could laugh with you.

Bruce assumed the dance positions of a waltz, twirling you around your small apartment as John Deacon and Brian May’s instrumentals filled the room. 

The two of you separated as the song faded to silence, smiles still strong on your faces and the memory imprinted into your souls. The night had enveloped Gotham quickly and the light from your kitchen spilled outside while you popped the brownies into the oven. Bruce looked outside, like he could hear the call of the night, but the brush of your pinky against his as you leaned your face onto your palm and looked at him brought him back to the confines of your apartment. 

You turned on the TV, some odd romcom playing as Bruce watched you make some instant noodles for dinner and the warm smell of brownies permeated the air as they finished up. You sat next to him on your small sofa, head just barely leaning onto his shoulder as you both ate quickly. The cheesy soundtrack of the movie filled the space between your bodies, and a somberness sank into your bones as you thought of having to go back to work, having to face reality all over again. 

“What do I do if they come for me?” You whispered, still staring at the television. Bruce turned to you as the artificial light bounced off your face and hesitantly brought up a heavy hand to your jaw, turning you to him. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised you. You closed your eyes and reveled in his touch, but worry nestled itself deep into your bones. You didn’t want to be vulnerable like yesterday again, didn’t want to be touched by strangers who meant to take pieces of you as keepsakes. 

“I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep again,” you whispered. “Every time I turn around, I feel like they’re waiting in the darkness to take me and destroy me all over again.”

“I promise I won’t let that happen to you,” Bruce murmured, gently kissing the top of your head before he met your eyes, an honest sweetness present in his vows of protection. You allowed yourself to trust him, and he led you to your bedroom where you laid down and allowed sleep to pull you under with the safety of Bruce’s presence next to you. 

~~~

You woke up alone, and it threatened to break your heart, but the ghost of a kiss pressed into your temple danced along your skin and brought you back to reality. Bruce Wayne was a busy man. It was probably better this way, but the knowledge that you’d had him next to you for even a night was enough to soothe the aching gap his absence left. 

No matter, though. There were bills to pay, and you had no time to waste on the foolish romances of a child. There was always tragedy in love, and that only made it more beautiful. If this was the tragedy that Bruce and yourself would have to undergo, the tragedy of a love that could never happen, then there was nothing left to do except thank time for being so wonderful. 

You got ready mindlessly, your mind overridden with the thought of Selina and the absence of Bruce. You found yourself fantasizing about the woman, eyes darkened with her desire for you, trained onto your figure as you’d dance for her. You wondered how she’d react to your piercings. Would she flick them, tug them, suck on them? You weren’t sure. You wanted to find out, desperately, and you could feel arousal sharpen your senses as you got lost in visions of her and you, tangled together. You’d almost gone into autopilot, only distantly aware of getting ready before you blinked and you were suddenly seated in the dressing room of 44 Below. 

Selina waltzed in while you applied a sultry dark shade of lipstick across your lips and paused, her eyes trained on your lips as you attempted to perfect them. Aware of her watching, you dragged it across your bottom even slower, forming an o-shape with your mouth before turning slowly to face her. 

“Hey,” you said, crossing your legs and leaning towards her. Selina’s eyes didn’t leave your own, and you almost felt embarrassed at the failure of your flirtations before she shot a soft smile your way and walked to stand between your legs. 

“You smudged a little,” she said, using the tip of her thumb to trace along the edge of your bottom lip. Your chest heaved with the effort of trying to conceal your desires from her, but when you looked into her eyes, you knew it was obvious that you were absolutely weak for her. She lingered for a moment between your legs, before she stepped back and strutted over to the assignments for the night, 

“Damnit,” Selina cursed. “Fucking Birdman put me on dance for tonight instead of waitressing like usual. Ah, fuck. Now I gotta take the fucking shirt off.” She growled in annoyance before tugging her slim white tank off, revealing a soft lace bralette that only barely held in her curves. She turned to you, cupping her tits. “Does this look hot enough?” 

You swallowed roughly and nodded a weak yes as she shot you a knowing look and squeezed her supple flesh. You forced yourself to look away, but the damage was done— Selina’s siren song had lured you in and rendered you defenseless against the force of her attraction. You were entirely at her mercy now, and the thought was intoxicating. 

“Guess I’ll see you out there then, angel,” she winked, before turning and walking out into the lion’s den, each sway of her hips aligning with the pounding bass of the club. 

~~~

Your routine had started out ordinarily enough, with you alone on your platform separated from the other dancers. It was easy to put energy into your dancing, pushing and circling your hips against the metal pole to the house music that the club’s patrons adored. You brought your leg up and allowed the pole to spin you, throwing your head back in a mimicry of carelessness to create a carefully manufactured brand of sex appeal. 

Then you felt Selina Kyle’s gaze burn into your skin, branding your thighs and ass as you bent over and dropped to the platform’s floor before throwing your head back and sliding back upwards, hands making their path up your body. The clicking of her heels isolated itself in your audial field, and it felt like everything had gone silent except for the path she made towards you. You grasped the pole and allowed it to swing you around, quickly grabbing it with the other hand and using the momentum to propel your legs above your arms, putting you in a spinning Phoenix position that made the glittering fabric of your thong catch the hints of strobe lighting and show off the curves that were guaranteed to make you a couple extra tips. 

When you completed a full spin and swung your legs back to the ground, you saw Selina dancing on the ground at the sight of onlookers. Then she looked at you and made her way to the platform, where you got onto your hands and knees and crawled to where she stood at the edge of the stage. 

“Wanna give ‘em a show, angel?” she whispered, a small smile spreading across her face when you nodded. You could feel her breath tickle your cheeks before she captured her lips with yours, and your mind went blank. Lips and teeth clashed against you, throwing you into turbulent waters that threatened to drown you. You pushed back with force, moaning into her mouth as her lips danced with yours at a bruising pace. Her hand rested on the back of your neck and squeezed lightly. The pressure on your muscles was dizzying and your head swam. 

The lecherous cheers of your audience reminded you of your audience, and you blinked, dazed, as Selina trailed a finger from your lips to your breast before turning around and walking to the beat of the music. You remembered it was Friday, and the knowledge that you’d see her again only made your skin buzz in excitement as you counted the minutes for your shift to be over. 

~~~

You raced home as soon as the clock had signaled your release, not even bothering to wipe off your makeup before you left the club. Once inside, you quickly hopped into the shower, lathering soap and savoring the gentle warmth of the shower. You were quick to ready yourself, wrapping yourself in a simple robe after the shower while you readied a simple but delicious meal of orange pomegranate salmon. You popped it into the oven and left to reapply some simple, neutral makeup, sliding yourself into a short satin dress, opting to forgo underwear as you looked yourself over in the mirror. 

You lit a couple candles around your apartment and opted to play a jazzy and slow collection of ballads from your records, carefully curating an ambiance to allow you to lure Selina Kyle right into your arms. You wanted to kiss her neck. You craved an intimacy from Selina that you couldn’t find anywhere else— you wanted to love her, admire her femininity, worship her divinity, lose yourself in her essence. The soft strings of the stringed bass from the record intertwined itself with the melody from the piano, allowing you to lose yourself to romance as you fantasized about her.

The soft rapping on the door alerted you of Selina’s presence, and you quickly smoothed your dress before rushing to swing open the door. She stood in front of you, illuminated by the night’s reflection and the glow from the candles in your apartment, and she stepped inside with a small smile. 

She kicked off her kitten heels on the mat inside, and moved towards you to slide her arms around your waist and squeeze you gently. The subtle scent of Selina’s perfume enveloped you, and you almost subconsciously nuzzled yourself further into the point where your head lay on her collarbones. There was a sensuality to her, one which made you lose sight of everything, flooding every one of your senses until all you could think about was her. 

You stepped back hesitantly when the oven timer went off, turning to get the dish out of the oven. 

“You look beautiful, Selina,” you called out, cautiously sliding your hands into oven mitts before placing the tray on the counter. Selina came into the kitchen behind you, free of the confines of her jacket, and pushed a delicate strand of hair from your face behind your ear while you sprinkled freshly-chopped dill over the fish. There was an air of domesticity and comfort between you, and you swore you could feel yourself falling for her even more with every quiet breath you drew. 

“You too, baby,” she sighed softly, before helping you plate your cooking and placing it on the dinner table, which was illuminated only by the dim, flickering light of the candles you’d lit. 

“This is a beautiful song,” she commented as she sat to eat. You nodded demurely and smiled, swallowing a small bite of salmon before you answered. 

“Duke Ellington is an incredible artist.” Selina nodded at your analysis as she ate, and you were soon lost in the mundane flow of conversation as the two of you discovered the person across from you. Before you had realized it, you’d wrapped up dinner and sat next to Selina on the couch, gazing into her eyes as she listed the names of all of her cats. 

“You have a lot of cats,” you laughed quietly. She smiled at your response, sipping from her wine as she leaned back. 

“I have a thing about strays,” she quipped. You snorted at her response.

“You know, I’m something of a stray myself,” you responded, half jokingly. 

“You want me to have a thing for you, angel?” She asked you, leaning forwards to press a kiss onto your exposed neck. Your breath hitched in your throat from the softness of her actions, and she continued to kiss your neck, wine long forgotten. You turned to her, and before you could lose the courage fueled by the fuzziness from the wine you’d drank, surged forwards to meet her lips with yours. 

She kissed you with equal force, leaving you breathless as lips and tongues collided, a suffocating sweetness as you fueled your addiction for Selina Kyle. 

“I’ve been thinking of doing that ever since I first saw you, angel,” Selina confessed before smashing her lips almost violently against yours. Her nails danced above the tops of your thighs and toyed with the hem of your dress, and you shuddered in anticipation as she neared your dampening core. She pulled you onto her in one swift move, forcing you to straddle her as she kissed you with a force that left you breathless. Her fingers danced on the naked skin of your hips before she realized that you were bare under the slip of your dress. 

She pulled away from you, fingers brushing against your center as desire built in her.

“Bedroom, now. I want you naked by the time I enter.” 

 ~~~ 

You watched Selina enter the room from your kneeling position on your bed, the room silent and dark except for the flickering candles you’d lit. In her hands was a small backpack, which she placed on the foot of the bed before she crawled to you and tilted your head upwards with the tip of her finger. Her nails pressed lightly into the skin below your jaw, and she smiled as she saw your breathing pick up. 

“Look at you,” she cooed gently. “So pretty and obedient, all for me, huh, kitten?” You whimpered at her teasing, making her tut in response. She slid her hand down to your throat and applied just a hint of pressure on your blood vessels. It was just enough to make your head feel woozy, but not so much that you couldn’t still feel every move she made. You watched with growing anticipation as she moved to kiss you. Her lips hovered just above yours as she refused to kiss you, and out of frustration, you moved to bridge the gap between the two of you. 

She laughed lowly at your impatience and moved a slim finger to your lips, replacing her hand with her mouth as she suspended her lips just above your pulse points. You could feel each warm exhale from her nose float across your neck, almost collaring you. Her nose bumped the side of your neck as she moved downwards, finger still laid flatly on your lips. Selina’s lips traced the shape of your collarbones, skimming the top and bottom of your clavicles and making you whine in frustration. 

“Selina—“ you began, but were interrupted by your sharp gasp when Selina softly sank her teeth into the top of your breast. 

“Don’t talk unless mommy says it’s okay, kitten,” she reprimanded you, before cupping your tits in her hands and palming them roughly. She tugged and rolled your nipple piercing, watching your barely-restrained gasps. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as she continued to fondle them, wedging her knee between your thighs and under your cunt, rubbing it against your slit with just enough friction to leave you dripping wet. Your muscles clenched around nothing and your pussy ached as Selina continued her ministrations, but her orders left you voiceless and on the verge of tears from her teasing. 

Tears pricked at your eyes as your frustration grew and the ache between your legs was almost overwhelming as you ground your slit onto her leg out of desperation. It was just enough pressure to build onto the slope of your pleasure, but not enough for you to reach your climax. Selina edged you, dangling you just above the precipice of pleasure before withdrawing her limb and tugging you in for a kiss. Her hand tangled itself into your hair and tugged lightly, making you gasp in pleasure. She took the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth, pressing it into your tongue. Her mouth was warm, soft and smooth, a distinct contrast to her sharp nails, which she dragged along the length of your breast, leaving claw-like marks along your skin. 

“Say ‘thank you mommy’,” Selina reprimanded you, slapping your breast when you didn’t say it fast enough, still dizzy from the force of her kiss. 

“Th-Thank you mommy,” you stammered out. She tilted her head and smiled at your dazed state. Selina’s nimble fingers quickly unlaced her corset, falling away to reveal her soft curves. You were transfixed by the sight of them.

“You know, you’re being such a good girl for me. Do you think you deserve to taste me?” She questioned. Visions of you eating Selina out flooded your mind, and you nodded desperately. She sat next to you on the bed and guided you to the floor, where you knelt between her legs. Selina grasped your chin lightly, forcing you to look her in the eyes. “Beg,” she whispered. 

“Can I taste you?” You pleaded, dropping your head to kiss the tops of her thighs. Her hand found the roots of your hair and tugged you upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with her. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Her nails traced circles into your scalp, and you moaned at the sensation. Selina’s burning gaze made warmth bloom in your core, and you subconsciously dug your nails into her thighs. 

“Please let me eat you out, mommy. I need it so bad,” you begged. Your body was still aching for her touch, every part of the surface of your body crying out for the relief that Selina’s touch brought. She spread her legs gently, exposing her glistening wetness to you. You dragged your tongue across her thighs before you reached her center, where you paused just briefly to look up at her. Your warm breath met her core, and her gaze was heavy with the intensity of her desires, dark and controlling. You wanted to pleasure her, wanted to make her feel good. 

You moved forward and fastened your lips onto her clit, sucking on it gently while swirling your tongue around. You watched as Selina reached up to run her hands through her cropped hair, pushing your head down further as she sought out her pleasure. You moved down again, nose slightly bumping her wet clit as you lapped at her hole before licking a broad stripe back up to her clit, then tracing the path downwards again. She ground her pelvis into your tongue as you slid it in and out of her, reaching up to stimulate her clit with two fingers. You watched her in the dim nighttime light as she was overcome with pleasure, a different kind of beauty as she used you. Your own arousal was almost painfully evident as you sucked and fucked her with your tongue, so much that you hesitantly reached down and began to pump two fingers into your own weeping hole. 

You moved your hand from her clit to squeeze her tits, moaning at the sensation of softness into her heat. The feeling of her thighs gripping the sides of your head while she rode your tongue reminded you of her control, locking you in place as you ate her sweet pussy out. The vibrations from the sound of your pleasure made her gasp erratically, and she thrusted her hips towards your face before she found her release, climaxing onto your tongue. Her face contorted in pleasure, mouth forming that tight ‘O’ as she moaned wantonly into the silence of your apartment. Her body was flushed, eyes wild and dark, nipples pebbled and the only thought echoing through your mind was how much you wanted to make her feel this way again, and again, and again. The sweet tangy slick decorated the lower half of your face, intermingling with the saliva that had dripped out of your mouth. Her taste was addicting, and you couldn’t help yourself from bringing the hand that wasn’t still pumping into you to swipe at your face and rest heavy on your tongue while you sucked it, not bothering to break eye contact with the woman of your desires. 

“Did so good for mommy,” she said, voice raspy and sultry from the force of her orgasm. Her nails scraped against the back of your neck before her fingers tightened their grasp on the back and tugged you upwards until you were nose-to-nose with Selina. Your pace of self-pleasure faltered, and you were too distracted with the absence of your own pleasure and the look in Selina’s eyes to notice the metal object fall from its place just under your hair to the floor. 

“But when did I say it was okay to make yourself feel good?” she questioned you. Her voice was deceptively soft, lips just barely brushing against yours as she tilted her head to interrogate you. Selina’s hand grasped yours and pulled it towards her mouth, sliding the fingers that were still covered in your slick into her mouth and sucking it. Her other hand grasped your chin as you whimpered, overwhelmed by the desire you had for her and the absolute need you had for more. 

“Oh, angel,” she mocked. “I bet your pretty pussy just needs to be fucked right now, huh? Bet you’re so wet, right? But angels don’t act like little sluts, do they?” You shook your head, confused when she got up from you and strutted over to the dark bag she’d brought. From its depths, she produced a sleek-looking leather harness and a rather formidably large dildo, which she fastened to her body before walking back to you slowly. 

“Slutty little kitty wanted to finish so badly, right?” Selina asked you lowly. She brought you up and spun you, pushing you onto the edge of the bed so that you were facing the open doorway. Her tits pressed against your back, one of her hands reaching down to slide the silicone appendage against your slit while the other collared your neck. She teased you while you whined, laughing at your desperation when you pushed your butt into her hips. 

Then she slid it into you without warning, thrusting sharply and with so much force that your body jolted forwards against her arm, which propped you up as she began to fuck you. Her hips slammed into your ass, the bones starkly different from the softness of her breasts pressed into you as she held you in place and fucked you. Selina’s expression of pleasure and the act of servicing her had brought you so close to the edge that, as she fucked you, you neared it with every thrust. You came around the silicone as she snapped her hips into you rhythmically, vision blurring and darkness dancing in your sight when you came. 

“Pretty baby coming all over my cock,” she murmured into your ear. “Let’s see how many more you can give me, huh?” Her pace was unbroken and punishing as she pushed into your sensitive hole, smearing it and you with your arousal as you moaned pathetically. Every thrust made you a little stupider, mind floating with the high of your accumulating climaxes.

If you were more present, you would’ve noticed the familiar glint of metal in the shadows of your hallway. Hell, you would’ve actually cared about it. But in that moment, all that mattered was the force in which she fucked you, the feeling of her nails pressing into your jaw and the light pressure she applied to your throat, her curves pressed so tightly against you that you could feel every pulse reverbing through her body. All that mattered to you was that you were Selina’s bitch.

“I was wondering when you’d join us, Batboy,” she called out. And from the darkness, he stepped out. The sharpness of his suit in your eyes was tinted by the fogginess of your arousal, and all you could do was moan and clench tighter around the dildo when he stepped closer to you. 

“Catwoman,” he responded stiffly. His voice was strained, no doubt at the sight of you lost in the fires of pleasure.

“Doesn’t she look pretty?” She said, resting her chin on your shoulder as she pushed you over the edge again. Selina’s tight grip on your jaw forced you to look right into Batman’s eyes as you came, allowing you to watch the stiff nod he gave as his vision made its path down your body to the meeting point of Selina’s rubber cock and your slick hole, where he seemingly couldn’t look away. 

“Words,” Selina addressed him harshly. Batman’s eyes flicked to hers, before back to the space between your thighs. 

“She looks pretty,” He murmured gruffly. The facade of his composure cracked when he palmed himself through his layers of leather. 

“Good. Now get undressed and let her suck your cock.” Batman began to shed his clothing at Selina’s command, leaving only the cowl that covered his face before he crawled onto the bed, where you were now bent at the waist, and slapped your face with his dick. You opened your mouth almost instinctively, moaning when he slid into your mouth and the realization that they were both just using your holes sank in. 

Batman’s balls slapped against your chin as your saliva dripped out of your mouth, heavy and soft while you sucked on his length stupidly. 

“Isn’t our pretty slut so good at sucking your cock?” Selina asked as Batman’s muscles tensed, the only indication that he was nearing his climax as the cowl obscured his face. His grip was tightening in your hair, bare hands tangling in your strands as each thrust pushed you further onto Selina’s strap. Your cunt was overstimulated from Selina’s strap pounding into you, drawing orgasm after orgasm, and tears of pleasure had begun to drip down your face, mixing with sweat and slick and saliva. They’d turned you into a panting, wet mess, and you were plunged into a dizzying pleasure. You ground yourself further onto the strap, feeling it rub against your sensitive walls and throwing you into another orgasm. 

“Don’t cum,” Selina sharply commanded Batman. Her hand reached forward and wrapped around the base of his length while you sucked on the tip of it, squeezing it as he fought against the building force of his orgasm. 

“Please,” he gasped. She let go of his cock and instead reached to his chest, where she sank the tips of her nails into his chest and dragged downwards lightly, making a path until she reached his happy trail. Selina pulled you sharply off of his length and pressed your face into his torso, where you stuck your tongue out and began to trace the raised flesh, licking up the sweat and the pinpricks of blood that had bloomed from Selina’s claws. Your face was pressed into Batman’s smooth hard muscles, a sense of gentleness and intimacy that directly contrasted the roughness that Selina was handling you with. 

Then suddenly, she stepped back, silicone sliding out of your soft and needy cunt. You gasped at the emptiness, whining at the loss. Selina pulled you off of Batman, whose fists were clenched from the effort of delaying his climax, and pushed you unceremoniously to the floor. 

“Fuck me, Bats. Watch us, kitty.” Selina pushed him down to a supine position, before she sank onto him. You matched each upward thrust of his hips with your own fingers, focused on Selina as she held you in her gaze as she rode him.  Batman’s hips came to rest on her hips, a loose grab as he held onto her for support. He was close, you could tell, hips jerking erratically into her as Selina’s eyes rolled back and clenched around him as she climaxed. 

“Don’t cum until I tell you to, Bats,” She growled, before lifting herself off of him and pulling him up by the neck so that their lips connected. Selina’s hand wrapped around Batman’s stiff length, sliding over it in a way that made him drop his head to her shoulder, leather pressing into skin as he grunted with the effort of holding back. You were close, the muscles in your body drawn taut under your skin when you reached her another climax. 

You were dizzy from the countless orgasms that had been drawn from your body, but Selina refused to let you rest. Her arms encircled your waist and pulled your fluid form up back on the bed, where she puppeteered you on to Batman’s throbbing cock. His tip was warm as it pushed past the ring of muscle guarding your cunt, sliding into your wet heat as Selina pulled your head aside for a soft kiss. Then he began to thrust into you, with Selina holding you firmly in place. Your head fell against his chest, cradled in his collarbones as he fucked you. 

His length slid rhythmically into your hole, girth pressing against each part of your exhausted cunt. You found yourself reaching up to stroke his cheek, tracing the boundary between leather and skin with your fingers as you focused on the beneficiary of your pleasure. You were transfixed by the swoop of his eyelashes, the softness of his eyes and the telltale smudges of his fingerprints left in the eyeshadow he used to even out his cowl. 

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, drawing out a shaky, gasped moan as his hips stuttered and he lost control. He slammed you onto his length with greater force, the bones of your pelvis meeting his base as he bounced you up and down, teeth gritted and muscles tensed. 

Batman leaned forward, fucking you into the bed and grasping your legs before swinging them over his bare shoulders. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he pounded into your limp body. Selina fondled your tits before kissing you, tugging your bottom lip lightly before her lips left yours. And you understood that they were completely in control. 

“I want you to cum at the same time that he does, kitty,” she whispered to you. You nodded distantly, but your climax was already approaching. Batman’s guttural moans hit your skin like falling rain, soaking you with ecstasy as the familiar high of your orgasm began to climb. 

“Cum,” Selina murmured, and Batman quickly pulled out of you, length wet and sticky as it pressed into your entrance and his cum painted your skin. You finished simultaneously, longing for the warmth of his hardness while your muscles rippled and your core clenched and pulsed in your finish. 

Batman fell into you, head just barely tucked into the space between your shoulder and collarbones as exhaustion overtook him. The leather of his cowl was just barely stiff but still pliant as it pressed into your skin, but you didn’t mind. You could hear the sink running from the bathroom, and Selina returned with a wet washcloth, silently wiping your sticky skin and pressing kisses on the skin she cleaned. She tossed the cloth into your laundry hamper before she climbed in next to you, stroking your hair as you nuzzled into her touch. 

“I adore you,” you whispered into the silence of the night. “Both of you.” Selina smiled at your reverence, and kissed your temple as she cradled you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers to you, eyes flicking up and down your face as you basked in her light. Batman was silent in your arms as he held on to you tighter, but he hesitantly reached up to Selina to intertwine his fingers with hers. 

She brought their connected hands up and and kissed each of his knuckles, before allowing it to come to rest. 

“Do you want water, angel?” Selina asked the two of you quietly, and got up at yours and Batman’s silent nods. 

And you were alone with him, calmed by the melody of his soft breathing as drowsiness warmed your body. 

“Please don’t leave me,” he murmured suddenly against your skin. Bruce’s voice cracked, mirroring the cracks in his soul and you suddenly saw past his facade of strength right through to his vulnerability. He needed you, just as much as you needed him. 

“Never,” you responded. An honest promise to him, and to yourself. 

Selina returned with cold waters in her hands, handing them to each of you before joining Bruce besides you to envelop you in a blanket of comfort and safety. 

You found truth in the arms of your lovers. There were no illusions, no promises that could break in the safety of the night. 

You found yourself in the arms of your lovers.

At some point in the night, Batman had left you in Selina’s embrace, leaving the two of you with kisses that were alive even in his absence, kisses that had a heartbeat and a pulse and told you that no matter what, it wasn’t over. The unspoken promises his mouth had left littered against your skin confirmed it. 

He was the truth. 

Selina had been there through the darkness of the night, there when you awoke to a new dawn. 

She was the dawn. 

44 Lounge was the den of hell. You found heaven in their arms. 

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

Night & Day

Battinson!Bruce Wayne x F!Reader x Neil

Summary: In an effort to get Bruce out of a depressive slump, you enlist the help of an old flame.

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Epilogue

Rating: General

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: None; just some cutesy fun!

Link to AO3

Tags: @ursulaismymiddlename​ my emotional support cherub. @salt-is-a-terrible-currency​ you drag me into your fandoms I drag you into mine :)

10:20        LONDON        ON TIME

But no gate yet, which - glaring at your watch for the umpteenth time - meant the plane was probably somewhere outside, circling the tarmac until directed to a walkway.

After two hours of traffic, a steep parking ticket, and an additional fifty minutes to get through security, you were nearly biting your nails from anticipation if not for the large cup of cruddy coffee fastened tight in your grip. It’d been too long since you’d seen one of your oldest friends, and with the plan in mind, it was meant to be a special occasion.

Ten more minutes passed and you watched the flight information display update with three other arrivals amid a muffled throaty announcement over the loudspeaker, and it was a fight to keep from having an outburst.

10:20        LONDON        ON TIME    D51

You tried not to sprint, weaving through passerby in a rush to get to the gate before you lost him in the crowd and wasted yet another hour just to track him down. While he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, events never bode well for lost tourists wandering Gotham International.

But once you made it to the gate, the thought instantly felt foolish - it was impossible for that man to be overlooked.

His long legs carried him above the heights of his fellow passengers, but as always, it was like sunshine sought him out. A halo of light cutting through smoggy cityscape to illuminate his forever messy dirty blonde hair and his sun kissed skin. He could’ve very well modeled, donning an expensive day suit in an olive green color only he could’ve pulled off so handsomely. But he also happened to be one of the smartest people you knew in the world - that is, until you met Bruce. 

“Neil!” you practically squealed, startling a family nearby. 

He looked for the voice, face splitting into one of his priceless smiles once spotting you. Then you were running, unable to stop yourself, and crashed into his open arms like a scene from a  movie. 

“My darling girl,” he huffed, quite literally sweeping you off your feet to give you a flourished spin before setting you back down. You were lost in his bright blue eyes as he clutched your face in his hands, then kissed you before you could right yourself. It’d been too long since that too, but also wasn’t the purpose of his trip, and you pulled back before your weak knees sent you to the floor. 

“This is not that kind of visit, Neil,” you scolded playfully.

His brows furrowed in mock concern and he stood up straight, a pout settling on his face. “Are you suggesting I’ve come all this way to a city I’ve never heard of not to be romanced?” 

“I’m not suggesting, I’m telling. Now, come on.” You took hold of his hand and led him in the direction toward the exits, suddenly remembering there was a time limit to your parking spot. “I’m gonna need your help with something. Someone. I’ll fill you in on the way.” 

“Very well, but I’m driving.” He retracted the handle on his suitcase and picked it up so he could walk faster, and his long stride was quick to overtake yours. “I’ve been stuck on a plane eight hours, I need something fun to do.”

~

“So, what you’re saying is, and correct me if I’m wrong…”

It was difficult to pay attention from the passenger seat. You braced yourself as the car whizzed through traffic, one hand on the door, the other splayed on the dashboard. It wasn’t that Neil was a bad driver, far from it. It was that he fancied enacting a good getaway, enjoyed the speed and sly maneuvers of weaving through cars and lanes and ramps alike. A thrill seeking picked up from his career in espionage.

As the GPS signaled the appropriate exit a thousand feet ahead, you suddenly wished you borrowed the Corvette. Your sedan could only take so much.

“Your boyfriend -”

“- He’s not my boyfriend.”

“- Is a billionaire philanthropist by day and a batsuit wearing vigilante by night, and you want me to, what, exactly? Give him a makeover?”

“Sounds a little insane when you say it like that.”

“My darling,” Neil ignored a blaring honk as the engine revved, sending the car soaring across an intersection. “That’s because it is just a little bit insane. I don’t think depression is your boyfriend’s biggest problem.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you whined at him. “Why must you keep calling him that?”

His hand darted from the wheel to tickle your side. “Because you make the cutest little face when I do!” You swatted at him, snapping to keep his eyes on the road and he straightened in his seat. “If I’m being honest, you’re making me jealous.”

“Anyway,” you carried on. “You’re a time traveler.” 

You watched his mouth open, then close, then open again before gesturing vaguely, and you knew he was debating lecturing you over the semantics. How it wasn’t really time travel. Feynman this, Wheeler that. Electron positron something something. But he was the physicist, and you were a Poli Sci major and the concept was entirely lost on you the second he stopped explaining it. 

“Touche,” he eventually settled on. 

You took his surrender as an opportunity to segue back to the original topic at hand. “He just has these slumps where he seems so down. I figured you being - well, you -”

“- Charming, devilishly handsome, a fantastic dresser.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, laughing all the same. “Yes. All the things. Give him some guidance, will you? A bit of a friendly push.” 

“One Pretty Woman treatment, coming right up.” 

At last, the car finally reduced speed and you were relieved to see Wayne Tower come into view, its skyscraping rooftop so high amongst its neighbors, it disappeared into the smokey grey mix of clouds and smog. 

“Jesus…” Neil marveled. “He lives in that?” 

For the second time that day, it took proper navigating to find parking, even once inside the Tower’s garage. It was the middle of the workday and the building would’ve been brimming with employees, contractors, and housekeeping staff. Once more, you regretted not asking Bruce to borrow his car. While he had his own parking space in the lot, the more secluded space underground was incomparably convenient.

“Oh, one more thing,” you said before you both stepped out. And as he turned toward you, it was a mystery as to how it almost went forgotten. There were some differences, sure. The blonde hair and tanned skin, the aforementioned dress sense. Neil likely even had a trimmer build; he might’ve had history as a soldier but Bruce’s training and expertise went far beyond that.

“You could say I have a type. He looks just like you.”

~

Upon entering the Tower, Neil made a safe assumption to approach the receptionist desk, only to offer a sheepish grin when spotting you make a beeline for the elevators. There were over seventy buttons on the panels inside, one for each floor, and security clearance was required to select several, including the one labeled ‘PH’. Of course, you had security clearance. You swiped your ID badge, the round knob lit up, and the lift began its smooth ascent.

“Do you work here as well?” Neil asked curiously. 

“No.” He fell suspiciously quiet until you cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“Nothing!” Though his smirk said otherwise. “Simply trying to recall the last time I created identification swipes for people I wasn’t dating.” 

“Oh, do stop.” 

“No, no! Perhaps my faked death has kept me behind the times. Is that a thing now? Should we have one made for each other?” 

“Please promise me you’ll behave,” you pressed, eyes skyward in a plea from any higher power this plan of yours would work out. “He’s - he’s important to me.” 

“And to this city, I reckon... I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he added quickly when you raised a fist, fighting the urge to jab him in the gut. You softened when he reached over to grasp the back of your neck in his hand, thumb petting behind your ear, and you realized how much you’d missed the damned man. “Anything for you, darling.” 

You threw yourself at him, hugging him tight, basking in the nostalgia of his familiar scent. It was begrudging to release him as there was a low ding announcing the arrival to the utmost tier of the building. Whatever soft feelings warmed your chest were abruptly replaced with anxious nerves. You hoped the two men you loved most liked each other, hoped Bruce would keep an open mind about this…

[theycallme-thejackal]

lenny surprising midge at a set- bonus if its in front of her family or something

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated T

After her set, Midge takes her seats at the table with Susie and the Weissman-Maisel clan. Sans children, of course. It’s a blue night, and they’re already in bed, being looked after by a member of the Steiner staff.

Susie immediately digs in when their food arrives, but Midge suddenly feels a shiver up her spine. Like she’s being watched. She furrows her brow and looks around, earning questioning glances from the rest of the table.

She drops her fork with a clatter. Because standing at the bar at a restaurant in the Catskills with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other is Lenny fucking Bruce.

He offers a smirk and raises his glass to her, but she’s too shocked to do anything but stare at him with her mouth agape.

By the time she composes herself, it’s too late. The rest of the table has followed her gaze to the bar, and chatter erupts around the table.

“Who is that, Miriam?” Asks Shirley, a hint of suggestion in her voice.

“He’s tall,” Moishe comments, stretching conspicuously to look over his wife’s head.

“Miriam,” adds her mother. “Did you invite him here?” The tone of disapproval is strong.

Joel just looks stunned. “Is that - ”

“Lenny!” This one comes from her father, who stands, heading toward the bar upon noticing the comic.

Joel leans across Susie, who looks like she could bite his head off for getting anywhere near her. “What is Lenny Bruce doing in the Catskills?”

“Obviously he’s here to see Midge,” Susie mutters around a mouthful of chicken.

It’s then that Midge’s shock starts to wear off. “Susie, why aren’t you more surprised? You used to be a bumbling mess whenever Lenny would show up.”

“He called the office last week and asked if you had gigs coming up.”

“Susie!”

Her manager takes another too-large bite of her chicken. “You’ve been moping around for eight months. Conspicuously started around the time Mr. Twelve Arrests played Carnegie Hall and you were suddenly ready to start working again. Don’t have to be a fucking mathematician to solve that equation.”

Joel watches with a furrowed brow before putting two and two together. “You and Lenny Bruce?!” He hisses.

“Yeah, Sal Mineo. Your ex-wife made it with Lenny Bruce.”

“Susie!” Midge repeats, feeling her face flush with embarrassment as she looks around at the shocked faces belonging to the members of her family.

“Well didn’t you?”

“That’s not the point!”

Susie shrugs and returns to her chicken, and with an indignant huff, Midge throws her napkin on the table and heads toward the bar, where Abe has engaged Lenny in conversation.

“ - anyway, join us for dinner!” She hears her father say jovially.

Lenny makes eye contact with Midge over his shoulder. “I don - ”

“Papa, could you give us a minute?” Midge asks.

Abe looks between the two comics before reaching out to shake Lenny’s hand. “The invitation stands,” he says.

“We’ll see if I do in just a minute,” Lenny replies. His lips curve into a smirk, but Midge knows him well enough to see the nerves behind it.

Her father returns to their table, leaving the two comics to stare at each other, neither quite knowing how to start.

“Hi, Lenny.”

Yeah, great opener.

“Hey Midge.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Wanted a drink.”

“In the Catskills?”

“Took a wrong turn.”

Midge arches a brow at him. “Right. We don’t talk about real things. Sorry I forgot - won’t happen again.” She waves him off angrily and turns to head back to her table.

“I missed you.”

Midge stops in her tracks. She would have never expected such an admission from him, but if she had, she would have expected it to be quiet, mumbled or whispered so as to give him an out. But his voice is clear and certain, and when she looks at him, he’s looking earnestly back at her. “You missed me,” she repeats.

“I did.”

“It’s been eight months, Lenny. Why now?”

“Because eight months is apparently how long it takes to muster up the courage to talk to you.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You never struggled to talk to me before.”

“Well...” He stubs out his cigarette. “Things are different now.”

“They don’t have to be,” she reasons. “If you’re worried I’m still mad at you - ”

“It’s not that.”

“Well then is it about that night?” She asks, swallowing thickly. He sighs, and Midge’s heart sinks. This is exactly why she had left him at his door in Miami. She was petrified that things would change. That if they crossed that line, they’d lose everything that made their relationship so special. 

Maybe it would be best if they just went back to before. If they wrote off that night as a one-time thing, but just as she opens her mouth to say as much, he speaks.

“I’m in love with you.”

She freezes at the admission. Of all the things she would have expected to come out of his mouth, I’m in love with you wouldn’t have even been on the list. How is this the same man who ran out of her apartment when he got too close to her life? “You’re...what?” She asks, eyes wide as she looks up at him.

He rubs his jaw, looking like he’s itching for another cigarette. “Fuck, Midge, I’ve been in love with you for two years,” he finally admits after a long moment.

“You’re...in love with me,” she repeats slowly.

“Yep,” he breathes. Silence falls over him before he starts waving his hands. “I’m not asking for anything, and I definitely don’t expect you to feel the same way, but I just spent six weeks in this place in fucking Connecticut - ”

“ - Connecticut?”

“ - because I knew that before I could ever talk to you about this, I had to get clean, so I threw out the bag, got on a train - ”

“ - the bag...”

“ - and did nothing but read and sleep and think about you. I’m clean. I’m not asking you for anything, but if there is any chance in hell of that night being more than a one-time thing - ”

She cuts him off with a kiss, her palms pressed against his chest. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembers her family is sitting about thirty feet behind her, no doubt watching the entire exchange, but when Lenny Bruce’s lips are on yours, why would you ever worry about what other people think?

Slowly he realizes what’s happening and cups her face with his hands, reciprocating the kiss passionately but still respectably enough that they won’t be kicked out of the Concord for public indecency.

“I love you too, Lenny,” Midge whispers when they part for air, and he looks at her like he doesn’t quite believe it until she gives him another short, sweet kiss. “However,” she adds, “you may feel differently about me after spending an evening with my entire family.”

“That entire table has been pretending not to stare at us for the last five minutes.”

“Yes, well, my ex-husband’s parents have never seen you before, and you’re very handsome.”

“Your ex looks like he wants to either kill me or kiss me,” Lenny adds.

“Probably a little of both,” Midge shrugs, taking his hand and heading for the table.

[optimisticrobin]

@bctglrl liked for a starter.

Dick had made Bruce a promise once – a promise that he'd don the cape and cowl again in a heartbeat if he needed him to – but it wasn't like he liked being Batman. At least it was only a temporary arrangement. Bruce was alive and well this time around. Not that it made it any easier.

"You know the worst thing about being Batman? The cape. It was the first thing I ditched when I became Nightwing. It's totally throwing me off balance." As if to make his point, he adjusted the damn thing as he took a seat on the edge of the rooftop. "Do you know how many quips I've had to bite back today? Good ones, too. Because Batman doesn't make jokes."

[batfall-a]

things will get worse before they get better. / @gunbash

IT was a sentiment often heard never quite assuring and always seemed more like a question than anything else. tonight he's somewhere else , mind turned as the soft spring breeze still brings the faint scent of decay - an aroma that will forever be intertwined with a city that harbors such intense melancholia.

if one were to look over they'd see the remnants of an attack on city hall , buildings still abandoned as YELLOW tape accented. the outrage over the curfews and the chaos of the city had finally come to seek their revenge. glass still glistens in the moonlight , a reminder that the city is still healing.

there were pages that he needed , pages that had been left - 12 in total and currently ? only 4 were collected. there is an urgency , you can feel it. the people WANTING change , and bruce instrumental in the only way he knows how. the nights still pass in an endless way , lenses constantly record as he faces each day with endless scarring upon body.

' that's what we're scared of ... ' the words slow to fall , still looking over the city as the swell of an orchestra accents , ' though the new DA is good , dent it seems wants for justice to carry out the old fashioned way '

[ though there is something that they BOTH don't know an attack planned - the opportunity for those who still follow the riddler to stream ... an opportunity that the riddler only dreamed of. ]

i should be kinder , my words have a bite - exhaustion it seems has won out , and i am unable to offer the normal amount of feigning niceties. the night had never felt right , i had felt a certain strangeness since arriving. even when stepping away from company it still followed. i hadn't yet thought to slip away (donning yet another guise) ... wondering if indeed something was coming for me.

' though i think this city is used to worse ' the words cause the downturn of lips , ' what do you see when you see this city ? '

[dcu-rarepair]

Another eleven fantastic Gifts have been released for Day Four! Head to the Collection to check them out, and view the Release Schedule to see what’s in store!

We also have a handy Commenting Guide to help our Giftees with showing their Giftors some love. And now, here’s today’s works: 

Stop to Smell the Flower by Anonymous for TheOldAquarian 

Poison Ivy might not be Catwoman, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her own skills at breaking and entering. Though maybe it doesn’t count as breaking and entering when her plan involves Pheromone blasting the guards and having them open all the doors for her. However, when she reaches her destination, she finds an unexpected old acquaintance. One curiously immune to her pheromones.  General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply  Bella Garten/Pamela Isley 

How my poor heart aches by Anonymous for plexippus 

Maybe Dr Thomas Elliot should stop listening to Aristotle.  Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply  Thomas Elliot/Bruce Wayne

Keep Your Business Clean by Anonymous for sharpbluejay

Dick has never before in his life felt as uncomfortable as he does in this moment. Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply Dick Grayson/Adeline Kane Wilson/Slade Wilson  

find somebody to love by Anonymous for NyxKvistad 

Jim Gordon thought all he wanted to do was save Dick from this life, but he wanted more than that.  Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply  Jim Gordon/Dick Grayson 

bitter, blunt, biting by Anonymous for flawsinthevoodoo 

Doing favors for big names was always going to be John's downfall. Especially when it put him in some rather unsavory territory.  ~ It was just another day in Gotham for Jason, sans some heads in bags or nagging from Bruce. That was, until he found John Constantine tripping down the street.  Mature | Graphic Depictions of Violence  John Constantine/Jason Todd 

Against Expectations by Anonymous for meaninglessblah 

Damian expected to be a beta. Damian was *suppose* to be a beta. Reality had not gotten the memo apparently. With Jason and Tim's help though, he eventually comes around to the idea. There's quite a lot to enjoy about being an omega after all.  Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply  Tim Drake/Jason Todd/Damian Wayne 

Whole Hearts by Anonymous for bikarma 

y’mera and diana prince have been suspiciously close friends for years. after taking a recently plunge to test their mutual attraction, the friendship develops into love. with her secret as wonder woman threatens cause cracks in their relationships, the half truths she utters to don her crown, mera’s own attraction to the hero bears weight into mera’s own mind of her loyalty to reporter diana prince.  Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply  Diana (Wonder Woman)/Mera (DCU) 

I’m selfish, I’m obscene by Anonymous for Pyrocore 

Selina’s always had a soft spot for pretty things. It’s a little bit tragic how fast they can turn her head.  Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply  Talia al Ghul/Selina Kyle 

step upon the stones now, lover by Anonymous for Miss_Fallen 

“Tell me, Donna Troy,” said Artemis, and her voice was everything. Donna hung upon each rough syllable like a honeyed lifeline. “What do you want?” Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply Artemis of Bana-Mighdall/Donna Troy

One man’s trash by Anonymous for scandalsavage 

“You said you would get me my own male omega when I turned eighteen,” Bruce says, slowly.  “I did,” Thomas says, with equal slowness. “But I meant a proper one. One that’s been well-bred and well-trained. Something easy to start you off with.”  Bruce’s jaw bulges as he sets it stubbornly. “I don’t want a proper one. I want this one.”  Bruce finds a neglected stray in heat. Thomas agrees to help train it up.  Explicit | Rape/Non-Con, Underage  Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne/Thomas Wayne 

Breaking and Entering by Anonymous for BearlyWriting 

Jack Napier waited years for his best friend to notice him and the minute they finally get together and give it a shot, Bruce needs to "slow down" because his ex is moving and he needs to be there for the kids. Well, Jack has been around a long time. He knows how to read between the lines of Bruce's bullshit. And he's not going to take being tossed aside like one of Bruce's trash bimbos.  The man is gonna pay for breaking his heart. Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage  Joker (DCU)/Jason Todd 

[abbatoirablaze]

Beneath The Suit, Batman

Word Count:  1.6k

Warnings:  mentions of fighting, nothing serious

“Bruce?”

“What?” he asked tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.  I gave him a confused look and he put his arm around my waist as though he was trying to reassure me that he wasn’t exhausted and had been paying attention to me asking him where we were going tonight.  But I could see past the facade.  I could see that he was worn well beyond what was okay.  I gave him a sympathetic look and he shook me off, “I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart.  I-I’m just tired.”

“We don’t have to go out,” I offered quickly.  He gave me another look and I turned, bracing myself on his chest, “Bruce, it’s fine…I know that taking over Wayne Enterprises has been exhaustive…the board expects a lot from you this quarter, and I know you’re overwhelmed.  We can do this another night.”

“(Y/N), it’s your bir-“

“I can call the girls,” I offered quickly yet again, “I know they wanted to do something anyways.  They’ll probably be happy to have me for a night without you attached by my side.”

“They probably want to go out and get drunk,” he grumbled, “they’ll probably try to break us up by hooking you up with someone.  I know how they think I ignore you.”

I frowned at my boyfriend’s harsh tone, “Bruce…who cares what they think.  I know you don’t ignore me.  I know what our relationship means.  We’ve been together since we were nearly in elementary school.”

“They’re just pissed because I haven’t asked you to marry me,” he growled, “they all went off and had kids of their own an-“

“Bruce…they’re just jealous that they don’t have the same type of understanding that we do,” I sighed, stroking his cheek, “we have so much trust and freedom in our relationship and they don’t understand that…but who cares.  I’ll just go out and have a few drinks.  I’ll be back in my apartment before you even have time to worry.  Get some rest.”

“I always worry about you.  Rest or no rest,” he sighed, his hand stroking my cheek, “Gotham isn’t entirely safe.  You know that.  There’s muggings all the time.” 

“We’ll be fine,” I giggled in response, leaning just enough to press a delicate kiss to his lips, “and anyways, haven’t you seen the papers?  There’s a vigilante running loose, protecting the streets now…I’ll be fine…right?”

“I don’- “

“Bruce,” I giggled, cutting him off, “it’ll be fine.  I’m just going to go out with the girls…have a few drinks…then tuck myself in at the end of the night.  We can do dinner tomorrow…and you’ll see, when you pick me up that I had a good night, where me and the girls got drunk.  The worst thing I’ll be dealing with is a hangover”

“It’s really alright with you?” he asked nervously, his gaze flickering to his own bed.  I nodded and he gave me a soft smile, “have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend in the whole wide world?”

“Only our entire relationship,” I replied, pressing another kiss to his lips, “seriously.  Get some rest.  Or you’ll never get those bags out from under your eyes no matter how much money you throw at a spa.”

It wasn’t often that I regretted my decisions, but now, more than ever, I’d wished that I never cancelled on Bruce.  That I never agreed to go out with my friends or let them pick where we were going.  That I hadn’t allowed them to choose Falcone’s club. 

“Come on sweet thing.”

“Come on, we don’t bite.”

“HARD!”

Leave us alone,” one of my friends begged as we pressed ourselves tighter to the wall and each other.  She swatted her clutch out and one of the guys grabbed it.  She screamed and pushed away his grabbing hands, “GO AWAY!”

“Come on baby…don’t play hard to get.”

“I’m getting tired of it!” Another man growled as he emptied out her clutch, “let’s just take these little bitches back an-“

“Back away from the girls.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thick and gravelly voice.  A few of the offending men chuckled, turning around.  My jaw dropped at the large, intimidating sight just in front of them. 

It was the vigilante. 

“Oh my god.”

“I won’t tell you again…leave the girls alone!”

“Look at this guy!”

“I read about him…you’re that bat brain ain’t ya.”

“Think you can take on five of us, bat boy?” another taunted. 

My heart raced as the thugs approached the vigilante, and they all began fighting.  It was a flurry of fists and heavy grunts.  One by one I watched as each of the assailants fell to the dirty street.  My friends took the first possible chance that they could and ran, but I was stood, stock still as I watched everything unfold. 

I should have been mad when they didn’t look back.  When they abandoned me in the alley.  Bruce was right when he said that they weren’t my real friends…but it was hard to find someone to accept me after they found out I was still dating Bruce. 

Even while he was filthy rich, most people looked at him like a broken toy after what had happened to his parents.  How he was raised by his butler, Alfred.  But not me. 

I had appreciated Bruce for everything he was, and everything that he wasn’t.  More than ever though, I was wishing I had stayed in.

But my gaze was hooked on the man in black as he took down his enemies.  I had barely realized the quickness in which he’d taken them all out and they scurried off until he was in front of me, “(Y/N), (Y/N), are you okay?”

I gave him a confused look as his heavy leather glove reached out and stroked my cheek, “h-how do you know my name?”

“Your purse is all over the ground…same with your friends,” he pointed out.  I looked out at the surrounding scene and frowned, seeing my ID face up on the alley way along with the designer bag Bruce had given me, “are you alright?  Do you need medical assistance?”

“I-I’m fine,” I stuttered out quickly.  I ran for my cell phone, “I have to call my boyfriend, he-“

But I stopped myself when I noticed that my phone was broken, the screen beyond cracked, “you shouldn’t stay here…. they may come back.”

“I-my friends…they left…”

The man frowned and took my hand, leading me away from the scene.  I allowed him for a moment until I realized that I was letting some unknown man drag me down another alley.  My eyes went wide, and I began smacking at him until he let me go, “hey.  Now where do you think you are taking me?  I-“

“Just saved you,” he pointed out, cutting me off, “I’m going to get you somewhere safe!  I could leave you in the alley if you’d prefer…”

“I don’t know you,” I growled, pushing the unknown man away from me, “what if you go out and abduct women, or-“

“(Y/N)!”

I froze. 

The gravelly intense voice faded away.  My brows furrowed as I looked at two eyes that were all too familiar to me.  My breath caught in my throat.  And suddenly, everything began to make sense.  The late-night dates that had all but disappeared in the past year.  I wasn’t spending nights at his place anymore and he hadn’t been going to clubs.  The constant tired looks. 

I’d thought that Bruce had been sneaking around on me; picked up another girlfriend…that he was just too attached to our long-standing relationship that he couldn’t cut it off and break up with me.

Or that maybe he really had been working himself to the bone trying to live up to the expectations of Wayne Enterprises.  But I had never thought that he’d been doing something like this.

“B-Bruce?” I asked nervously, my heart racing in my chest, “Bruce…is that you?”

“We have to go,” he said quickly as he grasped my hand, “we can’t do this out here…it’s not safe.  You’re not safe.”

“Y-you’re the vigilante?” I asked dumbly, my voice sounding even more surprised than I could have anticipated. I stopped him from moving us yet again.  My hand remained in his, but I was the anchor, keeping him held in our position.  He gave me a guilty look.

“Surprise…” he murmured, “happy birthday sweetheart…”

“When we get back to your place I’m kicking your ass,” I grumbled in a huff as I started walking once more.  I heard a chuckle behind me as I stopped in front of his vehicle.  He loaded me into the vehicle and then got in on the other side, “you nearly missed my birthday because you’re playing dress up and trying to save the city.”

“I didn’t see you complaining when I just saved you!” he pointed out as he threw the car into drive.  I crossed my arms and looked away from him, “Just relax (Y/N)…I’m taking you back to my place…and in the morning I’ll have an entire spa staff waiting to take care of you.”

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you, Bruce…”

“Is it at least a start?” he asked with a serious look. 

I sighed, looking at the man that I’d loved all my life, wondering how he could have possibly hidden this from me, “y-you’re not…naked under the suit…are you?”

He chortled, the laugh making me jump as the gravely voice returned.  I shivered when he placed a hand on my thigh, “are you trying to find out, sweetheart?”