#batfleck x reader

[punkiebuttons]

How the different actors play Bruce Wayne

Balebat: Dilf

Batfleck: Daddy

Battinson: Baby boy

[alienguts]

Cocoon (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce and Y/N take things one step further and a little hotter.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, first-time sex, inexperienced reader, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, body worship, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control, bruce had the snip but it's not mentioned) reassurance, tooth-rotting fluff.

Request?: No

A/N: it's finally here!! enjoy, you horndogs

1 - Picking Up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me | 4 - Cocoon | 5 - Don't Go | 6 - Finale

It had been a year since Bruce had been left at the altar, a year since he’d shown up at Y/N’s apartment for someone to talk to, a year since he’d taken her out to lunch to make up for it. 

A year since he’d first kissed her.

Although they hadn’t used any specific words to describe each other, the world saw Bruce and Y/N as a couple. They were frequently photographed together, gossip columns wrote about their relationship, the boys constantly asked her to come over to the mansion, and even Alfred had started treating her like his daughter-in-law.

All was going well for the two of them, but there was just one last hurdle that Y/N was having some difficulty with. One that she found a little embarrassing.

While Y/N was definitely not a virgin, she was still rather inexperienced in the bedroom and had a few bad experiences but the thought of being intimate with another person made her nervous. 

The thought of being intimate with Bruce made her almost terrified. And she had no idea why.

She wanted to sleep with him, so much it was driving her crazy. The thought of his large, muscular body pressing her into the mattress kept her up some nights and seeped into her dreams on others. They were always so vivid, she could feel his warm skin on hers, smell his cologne, hear his voice and feel how he moved inside her, driving her body wilder and wilder.

Until she woke up, that is. Unfortunately, they were just dreams. Wonderful dreams that left her soaking wet when she woke up, but still just dreams. And she wanted those dreams to come true, so badly that it twisted her heart and left her unsatisfied with just her fingers or toys. She had to know what he felt like, what he tasted like, everything.

If Y/N hadn’t thought she was crazy for Bruce she was certainly insane for him now.

She hadn’t told Bruce how she felt, but in his own special Bruce way, he just knew. Thankfully, he’d been completely understanding and never pushed her into doing anything, but she was tired of not being ready. She’d started retaking her birth control, stocked up on condoms, and put ‘Operation Get Laid’ in action.

When she’d gotten a text from Bruce asking if she wanted to come over, she immediately replied ‘yes’, took the longest shower of her life, styled her hair, sprayed her best perfume, and picked out her fanciest lingerie to go underneath her sweater and jeans. It wasn’t exactly a ‘date’, but most of Y/N’s visits to Wayne Manor these days ended with the two of them making out like teenagers until her nerves butted in.No more getting scared, she told herself as she put on her jacket and gave herself one last look over in the bedroom mirror before heading off.

Y/N arrived at the Manor after the boys had gone out for patrol and Alfred was already in the Cave watching the comms, leaving her completely alone with Bruce. Her heart started racing as soon as she pressed the doorbell and didn’t get much slower once Bruce opened the door.

“Hi,” she breathed as she smiled at him.

“Hi,” he said and returned her smile as he opened the door wider to let her in.

She could smell his shower products as she brushed past him and immediately wanted to bury her face in his chest. The outfit he wore was relatively simple - a plain navy sweater and jeans - but to her he’d never looked more handsome. She’d seen him in his fancy suits and knew how uncomfortable they made him at times, so knowing that he was so comfortable around her made her heart flutter. It didn’t matter how hard he leaned into his Bruce Wayne persona, she always saw him as just Bruce, her childhood best friend. 

And the man she was hopelessly in love with.

“How’s your day been so far?” Bruce asked as he took her jacket from her, his fingers brushing against her shoulders.

“Just the same as any other day,” she said, lying about how much preparation she’d put into just coming over.

Y/N fought off a shiver when she felt him standing so close behind her and resisted the urge to lean back into him. Even after a year of holding and touching each other, she was still nervous to initiate things, no matter how comfortable Bruce was with touching her. If she was a more forward person, just a little braver, she would let him ravish her then and there, but she thought Bruce was too much of a gentleman for that kind of thing.

She’d reached down to take her shoes off, and as soon as she stood up straight she felt him standing even closer behind her, his chest almost flush with her back. Her breath caught in her throat when he gently wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His body was so warm against hers that she felt like she could just melt into him.

Even when his hugs were completely platonic, being in Bruce’s arms was like being completely enveloped in warmth. He was all hard muscle but he kept his touches soft and gentle, as if he was afraid to squeeze her too hard in case he broke her. Y/N wished she could stay in his arms forever, safe and warm and loved.

He bent down slightly and rested his cheek on the top of her head as he gently squeezed her waist. She felt his chest expand slowly as he breathed in the scent of her hair products and shampoo and fought back a shiver when he exhaled again. 

She thought it was over too soon when he lifted his face from her head, only to feel his lips against her temple. His breath brushed her skin as he softly kissed her, letting his lips linger against her.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against her hot skin before kissing her temple again.

Y/N turned around in his arms and stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you too,” she whispered as she rested her forehead against his, the height difference making her stretch up to meet him.

Bruce gently pressed his lips to hers, making warmth spread through her body. It was just one gentle little kiss - just him saying ‘hello’ to her - but it felt right. Like this was how they were always supposed to be; kissing each other ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’, telling each other how much they missed each other.

Y/N whimpered softly when he slipped his tongue into her mouth and his hand under her sweater, letting him explore her more. His large palm stroked up and down her skin, sending shivers through her body as he pulled her further into him. She continued to kiss him back, tangling her fingers in his hair as she started to get that familiar ache between her legs, the one that called out for him and clouded her thoughts.

But it was all over too soon.

Bruce slowly pulled away from her, taking his hand out of her sweater and placing it back on her hip before leading her away from the front door. Y/N felt like her legs were made of lead, but she still forced them to move. With her hand wrapped in his, he led her through the Manor and into the giant kitchen, where dinner had already been prepared and plated up for them.

“I see Alfred’s been busy,” she said as she took in the meal before them.

“I wanted to make something myself, but he insisted,” Bruce said sheepishly as he pulled a chair out at the kitchen table for her to sit down.

Y/N laughed softly, knowing very well how much of a disaster Bruce was in the kitchen. She would have even been happy helping him make food, but Alfred’s cooking was always just as good as any Michelin-star restaurant that Bruce could have taken her to.

The night had gone well: Bruce and Y/N ate dinner, talked about what they’d both been up to since the last time they’d seen each other and settled in front of the TV. But instead of watching something, their time was better spent getting more physically acquainted with each other.

Y/N had freshened up a little after dinner, but now what little lipstick she’d applied had been completely smeared off onto Bruce’s face. Her body thrummed with desire for him, and the ache between her legs only grew stronger and stronger as she fought the urge to grind against him as she lay nestled between his legs.

She could feel that he was getting hard beneath her and wanted so badly to stroke him through his jeans, but she still didn’t want to come across as too forward so settled for resting her hands on his chest instead. That nervous streak was building up inside her, but she forced it back down, like a bad dog that needed to be trained.

This is what you wanted, she told herself. Stop being scared.

She briefly broke away from him to catch her breath and shuffled up to sit in his lap, her palms cradling his face. Before she kissed him again, she took a good look at Bruce; his dark hair was tousled from her fingers, his lips parted and swollen from being kissed, his pupils blown wide with desire, and a blush crept across his cheeks as he breathed deeply, clearly needing to catch his breath too.

He was so beautiful, just the sight of him made her want to melt into a puddle right there in his lap. In fact, she’d felt herself get so wet that she felt like a puddle already. And she was sure she could feel him getting hard underneath her.

Bruce took hold of her hips and gently pushed her down and forward in his lap, guiding her to slowly grind against him. She followed his lead and slowly rolled her hips against him, the friction of her jeans providing the perfect amount of friction as she felt his cock harden more with every stroke of her hips.

“Is this okay?” he asked her softly, his voice rolling deep in his chest as he trailed his hand from her hip and around her stomach, his fingertips gently stroking her skin.

“Yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper as she took hold of his wrist and guided him to continue touching her.

She felt like she was on fire, every touch of his fingers on her spread more and more warmth throughout her body as he trailed them under her sweater, one hand reaching up to caress her breasts, the other snaking around her back to unhook her bra.

Y/N couldn’t help but shiver when she felt Bruce’s hands slip under the cups and take her breasts in each hand, gently squeezing them and rubbing his thumb over her nipples as she continued to grind against him.

She’d had boyfriends in the past and she’d had sex with them, but foreplay like this was something completely alien in those relationships. She didn’t know if it was because it was Bruce, or because he was fully paying attention to her body, but she never wanted him to take his hands off of her.

Bruce sat up to kiss her neck as he continued to play with her breasts, his warm breath tickling her skin. 

“C’mon,” he said, his lips still brushing against her skin, “let’s go upstairs.”

Y/N nodded, barely taking in what he had said until he removed his hands from her sweater and gathered her in his arms to carry her upstairs to the master bedroom. She buried her face in his neck as he carried her through the manor, taking long strides to get to bed as fast as he could without running.

Once they’d reached the bedroom, Bruce kicked the door shut behind him and sauntered across to the bed. He gently placed Y/N on the end of the mattress and kissed her forehead tenderly before going to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

Y/N let her eyes wander around the room for a second, seeing how much of it she remembered. It had been a long time since she’d been in the Waynes’ master bedroom, in very different circumstances. Doing adult things in that very room was the last thing she’d thought about while playing hide-and-seek with Bruce when they were children.

Bruce came back to kneel in front of her, his hands on her knees as he gently spread them apart. Her breath caught in her throat at the feeling and she lightly bunched the sheets underneath her in her fists.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t like anything, okay?” he asked her softly.

Y/N nodded and swallowed thickly in anticipation. “Okay.”

“I know you’re a little nervous, but you’re safe with me. I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

How did he know? she wondered. Am I that easy to read?

“Can I take this off?” he asked as he played with the hem of her sweater, pulling her attention back to him.

She nodded and lifted her hands from the mattress as he pulled the warm wool up and over her head, leaving her in her jeans and unhooked bra that was barely hanging onto her body. Once the sweater had been tossed aside, she rolled the straps of her bra down her arms and cast it off to the sweater, her breasts now free for him to see.

Bruce’s breath hitched when he looked at her, his eyes wandering from her chest to her face and back again. He took hold of each of her breasts in his warm palms and caressed her neck with kisses before trailing them down to her collarbone. Each kiss felt like a spark, spreading electricity throughout her body until he finally reached her breasts.

She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her mouth when his tongue brushed against one of her nipples, softly teasing it until it was hard and taking it into his mouth to suck on. Electricity shot straight from her breast to her clit, making it throb in the confines of her clothes and her desperate cunt clench around nothing.

She whined his name and laced her fingers in his hair, keeping him close to her as he continued to worship her breasts, alternating between the two until they were both hard and covered in love bites.

“Lie down for me,” Bruce murmured against her skin when he drew away from her. “Keep your legs off the bed.”

Y/N did as she asked him, letting herself fall back onto the mattress as he continued to kneel between her legs. She gazed up at the ceiling, trying to calm the nerves that threatened to crawl back up again and focused on Bruce’s hands on the waistband of her jeans instead.

He unfastened and unzipped her jeans with deft fingers and slowly pulled them down her legs, making sure his fingers brushed against her skin as they went, before throwing them aside, presumably along with the rest of her clothes. He then travelled back up her body, leaving a trail of kisses as he went until he finally came to her core, heat radiating from her.

“Did you wear these just for me?” he teased when he noticed her panties. “You didn’t need to. They were just going to end up on the floor anyway.”

She clenched again at his words, completely not expecting him to be like that. She’d heard stories about how Bruce was a very generous lover and very good in the bedroom from gossip sites and tabloids, but she always passed them off as just rumours. Now she could see that those rumours were true.

Y/N tried to keep her body as still as possible as Bruce kissed the insides of her thighs and stroked her skin with the tips of his fingers. She was starting to grow impatient with how much time he was taking teasing her and placed her hands on his head to guide him to where she needed him the most.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled before kissing her clit over her panties. “No need to be impatient.”

He finally dipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, revealing her to him. Spread bare, she suddenly felt self-conscious and tried to close her legs again, but his hands on her thighs kept them open.

“Don’t be shy,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful.”

Y/N felt her whole body go warm as if she’d just been dipped into a warm pool of water. She wanted to hear him say it again, and again.

Bruce was about to start touching her when he pulled away from her. She must have looked disappointed since he softly laughed at her before pulling his sweater up and off of him.

“It didn’t seem fair that you were the only naked one,” he said before settling between her legs again.

He softly kissed her clit again, only without the confines of her panties she could feel him more intensely. Her breath caught in her throat and she bit back a moan when he finally dragged his tongue through her folds, gathering her wetness and spreading it around before flicking the tip against her clit.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled into her hot skin, his voice vibrating through her body. 

He continued to pleasure her with his mouth, alternating between licking and sucking her clit and folds until she was a writhing mess on the bed, trying to keep her moans to herself by biting her lower lip until it was sore.

“Hey,” she heard Bruce say when he pulled away from her and crawled up her body. “You don’t have to be quiet, I want to hear you.”

She was about to open her mouth when he covered it with his own, plunging his tongue into her mouth and making her taste herself as he toyed with her clit with his fingers. She moaned into the kiss and took his face in her hands as she melted into the bed, letting him take control of her body.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned when she felt one of his fingers slide inside her.

“How’s that feel?” Bruce asked as he slid his finger in and out, feeling around to find her sweet spot.

“Good,” she panted once he’d found it and slid another finger inside. “It feels so good.”

He kissed her once more before sliding down her body again to use his mouth on her again, his fingers curling into her spot as he licked and sucked on her clit.

Y/N let her voice free, not caring how loud she was or how ridiculous she probably sounded, whining and moaning Bruce’s name with every stroke of his fingers, every flick of his tongue.

She could feel her climax fast approaching and started to pull on his hair as she gave in the pleasure he was giving her. He took the hint and curled his fingers more harshly and faster into her sweet spot, her cunt sopping and dripping on his fingers.

The sounds that came from her mouth got louder and more high-pitched as he continued to wind her body up until the feeling in her stomach snapped and her cunt fluttered around his fingers. Her throat was raw and her legs tried to close themselves around Bruce’s head to push him away, but he welcomed them squeezing him as he continued to pleasure her through her high.

Once she was finished, her body shook and spasmed on the bed until he pulled his fingers out of her and gave her clit one final kiss before crawling back up her body to kiss her mouth.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed against his mouth, trying to calm her body down after being worked up so much.

“You feel okay?” he asked when he pulled away and stroked her face with the backs of his fingers. She smiled and nodded as she leaned into his touch. “Good. Lie back against the pillows for me.”

Y/N reluctantly peeled herself away from Bruce and scooted up the giant bed until her head rested against the soft pillows. After tonight, she’d only be able to see the pillows on her own bed as rocks.

She watched Bruce as he undressed, shedding his jeans and throwing them aside before he pulled his underwear down his legs, setting his already hard cock free. She swallowed thickly as soon as she saw him naked, that last piece of nervousness jumping into her throat. It wasn’t just that his body looked like it was sculpted by an artist, it was how gifted he was too.

Holy fuck, he’s huge! She thought, trying to not let her nerves show on her face. How’s he supposed to fit inside me without it hurting?

“Don’t worry,” Bruce said cockily as he climbed onto the bed. “You’re more than wet enough for me.”

He kneeled between her spread legs, his long, thick, hard cock in his hand, and stooped down to kiss her again, easing her nerves once more. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled her to him as he ran the tip of his cock through her folds, slicking himself up so he could slide inside easily.

“Ready?” he asked against her mouth when the tip sat at her entrance. She nodded against his mouth and let her whole body relax as he continued to kiss her.

When he finally pushed into her, it was like having her very first time again. Even though she was sopping wet, Y/N had never had someone quite as big as Bruce was. In many ways. He was the only thing she could see, the only thing she could feel as his cock stretched her out, her cunt almost burning as he pushed into her.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he noticed her wince. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she said through a shuddering breath. “You’re just a lot bigger than I’m used to.”

Once he was completely in, he stilled, letting her adjust to having him inside her. She took hold of his face with both her hands and brought him down to kiss him again, her tongue leisurely dancing with his as he rubbed her clit, making her wetter and wetter so he could move inside her more comfortably.

She wrapped her legs around Bruce’s waist, now more used to his size, and signalled for him to move again. Slowly, he dragged his hips back until he was almost unsheathed before pushing back inside, making sure to hit her sweet spot as he went.

That slight discomfort lingered for the first few strokes, but once he’d found Y/N’s sweet spot again, it melted into pleasure. She let her head fall back into the pillow as she moaned, begging him to keep fucking her until she was nothing but a boneless mess.

She could have lived in the moment forever; their bodies tangled together as he slid in and out of her, kissing her face and her neck as he slowly fucked her and played with her clit. She’d read about moments like this in so many romance novels, but they paled in comparison to the real thing.

Y/N could feel herself getting close again, her cunt starting to tighten and flutter around Bruce’s cock as her clit twitched under his fingers. She moved her hips in time with his as he started to fuck her faster, his own climax starting to approach.

Bruce had been relatively quiet, saving his voice for talking to her rather than moaning, but now he couldn’t help being vocal, his breath coming out in short pants as he wound up both their bodies.

“Can I cum inside you, sweetheart?” he asked through a stifled moan.

“Yes,” Y/N whined, desperate to feel him completely. “Please cum inside me.”

As soon as she’d spoken, her breath caught in her throat as her climax crashed through her, her cunt clamping down on his cock and contracting around it. The room went white when she came, the only thing bringing her back was the sound of Bruce’s own moans as he came, his pulsating cock shooting thick cum inside her.

Both of them completely spent, Bruce held himself up and caught his breath before gently kissing Y/N’s forehead and pulling out of her, letting his cum leak out of her. She felt empty without him inside her but was quickly welcomed back into his arms when he lay down next to her.

They lay in comfortable quiet, Y/N listening to Bruce’s steady heartbeat as she caught her breath. She didn’t understand how he was so relaxed when she felt like she’d just run half a marathon. She let herself melt into him as he stroked her skin and played with her hair, making sure she still felt okay.

“Bruce,” Y/N breathed when she’d caught her breath. He hummed in response as he continued to stroke her bare skin. “I love you.”

Bruce stopped and sat up slightly to look at her, his eyes wide with surprise.

Did I say the wrong thing? she wondered. I shouldn’t have said that, there’s no way he feels the same way, it’s too soon.

Her racing thoughts were put to a stop when he closed the gap between them to kiss her softly.

“I love you too.”

[devilishcupid]

BROUGHT TO JUSTICE | Bruce Wayne

☆ premise: you knew you had to do something after the joker killed jason, even if bruce wouldn't be able to save you.

☆ pairing: bruce wayne x fem!wife!reader

☆ warnings: gore descriptions, hurt no comfort, angst, death depiction and mention

☆ a/n: been a while since i uploaded a fic on this account. so many drafts and i couldn't focus on finishing bc i kept going back and forth lol. anyways, forced myself to finish this bruce fic i've had since last year. didn't have a specific bruce in mind writing this, hope you enjoy!

'He was never going to stop. You did the right thing,' you told yourself. You spared Gotham of further terror at the hands of the psychopathic clown. He didn't deserve to live—not after he murdered the one you held most dear.

"What did you do?"

You snapped out of your trance-like state, looking up to find Bruce standing in front of you in his costume. Only now, you became aware of the cold metal of the crowbar in your hands. Only now, you became aware of the crimson blood that covered you from head to toe. Only now, you became aware of the lifeless body of the Joker lying at your feet.

"I only did what you couldn't do." You said as you dropped the crowbar, the sound of metal hitting concrete echoing in the abandoned warehouse you had lured the Joker into.

"Why... why did you do this?!" Bruce yelled, grabbing you by your shoulders, trying to process how you were able to commit something even he couldn't bring himself to do.

"Because you didn't save my Jason!" You spat at him, your salty tears mixing with the blood splattered on your face before dripping down your chin and onto the ground. "You didn't save our boy—"

"Do you really believe that's an excuse to take a life?!"

Your jaw clenched at his words—you couldn't believe Bruce was using his stupid code of honor to defend letting that good-for-nothing maniac live after what he did.

"He tortured your son to death, and you let him get away with it." You hissed, venom dripping from every word you said. "And it's not just Jason. He terrorized the citizens of Gotham for too long, and the only thing you ever did about it was put him in a damn asylum he'd eventually escape from."

Bruce's lips formed a thin line across his face, unable to give you a response. From the looks of it, you could tell he knew you were right—at least about the never-ending cycle of Joker escaping Arkham and the Batman putting him back in.

"You know why I couldn't kill him." He finally settled on.

You let out a throaty chuckle laced with disdain for the man in front of you, shaking your head at your husband's simplistic reply. "Well, it's a good thing you don't have to—not anymore, at least. I did all of this for you."

Before either of you could say anything else, blue and red lights pierced through the broken glass windows of the warehouse, and the sound of sirens got louder. You could hear the screeching of car breaks, followed by Commissioner Gordon's voice booming, "This is the GCPD, and we have you surrounded! Come out now!"

"You should go," you said, having already accepted your eventual arrest by the Gotham City Police Department the moment you had put your plan into action.

"I won't leave—"

"It will look bad if they see you here," you interrupted him. "Right now, you're not my husband. You're the Batman. Unless you want to be the one to turn me in, I suggest you go now."

Bruce stayed quiet, knowing he couldn't save you from your predicament. Everything that led up to the Joker's death all pointed to you. It was almost as if you wanted to get caught with how the clown's death mirrored Jason's; you didn't bother to cover up your tracks, either. They may not be as useful as they should be in this crime-ridden city, but the GCPD isn't incompetent enough to not connect the dots.

"Just go, Bruce. Please. I don't want you to see what happens next." You planted a lingering kiss on your husband's cheek—careful not to get any hint of evidence on his suit—before heading towards the warehouse entrance to face Commissioner Gordon and his men.

The squelching of entrails and blood beneath the soles of your shoes followed your every step as you inched towards the door. You gripped the rusty handle with a bloody hand, taking a deep breath. You heard the sound of rustling behind you and look back to find the Batman already gone.

If it wasn't for the wailing of the police sirens, you swore you would've been able to hear a pin drop from the shock Gordon and his people had when you stepped foot outside the warehouse.

You raised your hands in the air, showing the entire unit of police officers undeniable proof of what you'd done. Confusion contorted on some of the officers' faces while others lowered their weapons, all of them unable to wrap their head around how one of Gotham's most esteemed socialites ended up covered in blood from head to toe.

"Sir, what do we do?" You could hear Officer Montoya ask hesitantly to the GCPD's renowned commissioner.

"Arrest her."

Next thing you know, your face is pressed against the pebbly ground and cold, thin metal is wrapped around your wrists behind your back. From the corner of your eye, you could see the feet of officers walking past you and into the warehouse.

You're brought back on your feet and walked to the nearest police car. Before you're put inside, you hear one of the officers shout—

"Fucking hell, she killed the Joker!"

Once you're seated in the backseat, the car starts moving. The sounds of the engine and the sirens filling your ears, almost deafening. You look out of the window, and you spot the silhouette of the Batman atop of a building against the moon's bright light.

You couldn't help but smile a little to yourself. As much as you did it for yourself, you did it for him. Now, the Batman didn't have to worry about a psychotic clown terrorizing Gotham City.

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Break In

Note 1: Requested by an anon a while back. I got inspired after waking up at 3 am and started writing. Then accidentally purged my inbox before I could copy the actual request. Note 2: This is set in the same storyline as Bruce Wayne's Sweetie (I think indirect sequel is the wording I'm looking for) Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batfleck) x GN!Reader (referred to as Sweetie instead of y/n) Warnings: Mediocre writing skills, Bruce's anxiety over Sweetie, swearing, good ole b&e, mentions of murder, mentions of child abuse, switching POVs. I'm so sorry.

"Of fuckin' course this happens on a Monday." Sweetie swore under their breath as they drove back towards their bakery. "Just don't get pulled over, dummy."

They were almost home when they realized they'd left their cell phone and wallet in the bakery. They didn't like being late monitoring Bruce's patrols. As it was, he had already been on patrol for about an hour.

Little did Sweetie know, as they parked in their usual spot behind the bakery, that the silent alarm had been tripped.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Bruce had just left the scene of a store hold-up turned to murder, determined to find the killers before the end of the night.

After he was securely in the Batmobile he noticed the alert that someone had tripped the silent alarm to Sweetie's bakery.

"Alfred, has Sweetie shown up yet?" He questioned, a tinge of worry in his voice. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Sweetie was the type of person to stop and help turtles cross the road and has come home late with a stray kitten before.

"No, sir, I haven't heard from them. But you know it's not unusual for them." Alfred's response would've almost reassured Bruce.

But after what the Joker did to Dick years ago, and after what he had seen at the convenience store tonight, Bruce couldn't shake the dread in his stomach.

He decided to track their phone, just to be safe, it was one of the things they'd agreed to shortly after he revealed that he was Batman to them. That along with a new security system that was connected directly to him and the GCPD.

Fear squeezed Bruce's heart when he saw that Sweetie's phone was still at the bakery and he immediately began racing towards the bakery. Hoping he wouldn't be too late.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Sweetie hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary at first but when they opened the back door of the bakery, they heard a slight rustling noise further into the bakery. Grasping the stun gun Bruce had given them Sweetie moved as silently as possible towards the light switch. When they flipped the lights on, though, the sight before them nearly shattered their heart.

A child. Couldn't be older than 13. He was crouched down by the front display case, which had been pried open with the crowbar at his side next to a dim flashlight, and was wolfing down a loaf of bread that was baked just that afternoon.

Sweetie could see the all too familiar signs that they had personally experienced. Clothes that were in just good enough condition to keep authorities from being notified. A couple of bruises at various stages of healing that could easily be dismissed as normal childhood occurrences, but Sweetie knew better. He was staring at them like a deer in headlights, trying to figure out how to escape.

Pushing back tears that had surfaced along with the memories of their own shitty childhood, Sweetie broke the silence.

"You know that bread won't fill you up very well. Why don't you take a seat and I'll make you a bowl of stew?" They said in a tone that was both gentle and let the kid know that they weren't taking no for an answer.

Sweetie walked around the still-frozen kid, behind the counter. They noticed the register was untouched, as was their wallet which was sitting on the shelf below.

They remembered the silent alarm and put in the code to let the police know it was a false alarm. They then spoke with an officer on the store's phone and assuring him that they had just doubled back to retrieve their phone and wallets and forgot about the alarm.

But knew if Bruce had seen the alert, he wouldn't be satisfied until he showed up and talked with them face to face. Sweetie turned and faced the kid who'd finally stood up but still looked ready to bolt.

"Actually, why don't you join me in the kitchen. You can tell me what you do and don't like." With that said, Sweetie walked into the kitchen and breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sound of the kid reluctantly following them.

The last thing either one of them needed was for Batman to come barging in and scaring the shit out of an already terrified kid.

Sweetie made sure to position themselves between the kitchen door and the kid while they got everything together to make stew.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Bruce found himself wishing the Batmobile to move faster or at least for the bakery to not be on the other side of Gotham. The longer it took for him to reach Sweetie, the more terrified and enraged he became. If anything happened to Sweetie, the person responsible would be given no mercy.

"Sir, it would seem that the alarm at the bakery has been classified as a false alarm." Alfred's voice interrupted Bruce's dark thoughts. As Alfred read off the officer's notes on the phone call. Bruce noted that while it did sound like something Sweetie would do, he didn't believe it to be the case.

He was still going, as far as he was concerned, Sweetie had claimed false alarm under duress.

Once he finally reached the bakery, he couldn't get inside fast enough. He didn't notice the lights were on until he busted open the back door.

He was very confused when he didn't see anyone in the main area. Especially after spotting a crowbar on the floor next to a flashlight and Sweetie's phone on the counter.

Then he heard noises coming from the kitchen and followed the sounds as quickly but quietly as he could. He didn't want to risk the perp harming Sweetie if they were a hostage.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"When's the last time you had a proper meal, kid?" Sweetie asked casually while chopping up a carrot for the stew.

"I get free lunches at school." The kid mumbled.

Sweetie had learned that once the kid had realized they weren't going to hurt him, he had taken on a surly demeanor that almost made them laugh. They knew the kid was putting on a tough act and they knew why. Their brother was the same way.

"My dad kept a lock on the fridge that only he had the key to. During the summer my brother and I only ate peanut butter sandwiches, instant ramen, and whatever candy bars we could shoplift." Sweetie informed the kid, which seemed to get his attention. "And if he caught us with a stolen candy bar or trying to get in the fridge, he had this paddle he made at the lumber yard he worked at for a while. It had been painted blue and wrapped in blue tape. He'd made us watch as he wrote our names on it in Sharpie. My brother tried hiding it once, my dad just used a bat on him until he revealed where he hid it. Sure it was a plastic one, not a real one but still."

Sparing a glance over their shoulder at the kid, they could see the look on his face that confirmed what they already suspected.

"Do you like celery?" They asked, changing the subject for a moment. After getting his answer, Sweetie resumed making the stew.

They heard the kitchen door open and based on the gasp and scrambling noises coming from the kid's direction, they already knew who it was.

"Batman. I'm making stew." They said, looking up at their lover's masked face which was now contorted in a look of surprise and confusion. "Would you like to join me and….what's your name anyway, kid?" They asked turning towards the boy who was now standing in the far corner of the kitchen, gawping at The Dark Knight.

The boy's eyes slowly turned towards them and his jaw moved a couple of times with no sound coming out before he managed to choke out a single word.

"Jason."

[redroomwidows]

people we need more Batfleck x reader, get to work

[loppsided]

GUIDELINES

keep in mind im a newbie writer, doing this mostly for fun so if your expecting anything great, this probably isnt the blog for you.

notes: most of my fics will be black!afab reader but no pronouns or race in fics you request are fine!

check out my masterlist for characters you can request!

what i will write:

fluff

angst

hurt/comfort

age gap

smut

what i wont write:

incest

character guidelines:

for tony stark, only platonic relationships

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

ANOTHER LIST

Since I'm also a huge comic nerd, I've decided to give y'all one list of all Marvel and DC characters you can also request! If y'all want too!

Bruce Wayne

Tony Stark

Clark Kent

Frank Castle

Jason Todd

Natasha Romanoff

Diana Prince

Barry Allen

Bucky Barnes

Kate Bishop

Rachel Roth

Wanda Maximoff

James Howlett

Oliver Prince

Koriand'r

Dick Grayson

Red Robin

Superboy

T'Challa

Killmonger

Sam Wilson

Peter Parker(Any of the three)

Shuri Udaku

M'Baku

Captain Marvel

Aquaman

Wally West

Martian Manhunter

Damian Wayne (AGED UP)

Joker

Bane

Harvey Dent

Jeremiah Valeska

Jerome Valeska

Penguin

The Riddler

Lex Luthor

[batmanlovesnirvana]

‘our love still remains.’

BRUCE WAYNE X FEM!READER

ONE SHOT | angst, death, murder, depression, drugs, suicidal thoughts.

synopsis : A year had passed since you died, but grief lingered, clinging to Bruce like the ash of a fire long extinguished.

A/N : This was inspired by this haunting scene between Thomas Shelby and Grace’s ghost. It’s one of my favorite moments—so raw and emotional—and I couldn’t help but feel it resonates deeply with Bruce. The weight of grief, love, and unresolved pain feels like a perfect fit for his character.

English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes!

WAYNE MANOR had never seemed so empty.

A place once filled with quiet purpose, with the steady rhythm of lives intertwined, was now a mausoleum—a tomb for memories that Bruce could neither escape nor embrace.

You had been dead for a year, and with you, everything human in him had begun to rot.

He was barely functional. No. That wasn't right. He wasn't functional at all. 

A ghost of himself wandered these halls, sat in these rooms, wore his skin, but it wasn't him. 

Not anymore.

The fire in the study crackled weakly, but its warmth never reached him. It flickered, casting trembling shadows on the dark oak walls, as if mocking his inability to burn with anything but guilt.

Bruce sat hunched in his chair, his head low, his shirt disheveled and sleeves rolled up. 

The man who had once stood as Gotham's unshakable guardian, a force of sheer will, was now a fractured thing.

His eyes, sunken and bloodshot, stared into the flames, but they saw nothing. He didn't need to see. He had already memorized the way the world looked without you in it.

The decanter of whiskey shimmered in the firelight, its amber liquid untouched at his side. He had never been one to drink—not before. But since you'd been gone, nothing was the same.

Tonight, though, the glass remained full. Not yet. Not for this. 

He couldn't dull the edges of this particular torment. He had to feel it, let it pull him under, heavy and unrelenting, like a stone tethered to his chest, dragging him to the depths.

His hand hovered over the glass, fingers curling tightly around it, the tension in his knuckles sharp and pale. The tremor wasn't from the cold but from the brutal weight of his own restraint. His mind hissed its merciless refrain, over and over, unyielding:

It should've been me. Not you.

Me. Not you.

Me. Not you.

The glass gave way with a brittle snap, the shards biting into his palm, the sound cutting through the suffocating quiet like a scream. He didn't flinch. The brief sting was insignificant, a pale shadow of the raw, festering wound buried deep within—a wound that time had refused to heal, a wound that still bled.

He craves the burn. Craves the searing pain, the consuming fire that might finally match the inferno raging inside him—the fire that could never touch you the way it's devoured him.

The night presses close, suffocating and merciless, but he doesn't move.

He doesn't patrol. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat.

He simply exists, caught in the liminal space where grief and guilt coil around each other, tightening like a noose. Waiting—for the silence to break, for the weight to crush him, for something, anything, to drag him back from the edge of this endless void.

The door sighed as it swung open, the faint creak swallowed by the oppressive stillness.

Alfred entered, a silver tray balanced in his steady hands, its polished surface catching the flickering glow of the fire. Every movement was deliberate, quiet, as though the room itself demanded reverence. He set the tray down with a soft clink, his weathered face composed, but his eyes—sharp and searching—betrayed the concern he could no longer contain.

"Master Wayne..." His voice was soft, hesitant, like stepping onto fragile ground.

Bruce didn't stir. His gaze remained fixed on the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes like ghosts of battles fought and lost.

Undeterred, Alfred took a step closer, his measured footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. "I thought you might need something to eat. It's been... some time." His tone was calm, but beneath it lay a quiet plea.

The silence stretched, vast and unyielding. Bruce remained a statue, motionless, unhearing—or perhaps unwilling to hear.

Alfred lingered, his hands clasped behind his back. He studied the man slumped in the chair, once an unshakable force—a sentinel against the darkness, a man who bore the weight of Gotham like it was his birthright.

But now?

Now, he was something hollow.

A shadow consumed by grief, its edges blurred, its substance eaten away until nothing but silence remained.

"No patrol tonight, then?" Alfred asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bruce's hands trembled faintly—not from the cold, nor from the blood still drying on his knuckles—but from something far deeper, raw and unrelenting.

The old butler sighed.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a small glass vial and placed it on the tray with deliberate care. The gesture was quiet, pointed—a subtle admonition wrapped in concern.

"I'm worried, sir," Alfred said, his voice thick with the weight of restrained emotion. "About the medicine. You've been relying on it too much."

Bruce's eyes flicked to the vial, his fingers curling involuntarily, but his lips remained sealed.

His gaze turned distant, unfocused, as though he were retreating into some unreachable corner of his mind. The flicker of firelight played across his expression, but it gave nothing away. The silence, though, spoke volumes.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth feeble against the icy void that seemed to envelop the room.

"She wouldn't want this," Alfred ventured at last, his voice trembling at the edges. The words came haltingly, heavy with pain. Saying them was a struggle; even he found it difficult to speak of her. "I know it's hard, but—"

But he faltered.

What could he say to a man who had lost so much? To a man who believed the one constant in his life—the one light in his endless night—had slipped from his grasp because of him? What comfort could Alfred offer someone who carried the unbearable weight of guilt and grief and punished himself for it, day after day?

Not even the ever-thoughtful Alfred had answers for that.

He lingered for a moment longer, his weathered gaze heavy with unspoken worry, before letting out a quiet, resigned sigh. Stepping back, he retreated as softly as he'd entered, unwilling to disturb the fragile stillness any further.

The door closed behind him with a muted click, leaving Bruce alone once more in the oppressive quiet, the firelight casting shadows that danced like ghosts around the room.

Bruce didn't move. The tray remained untouched, its polished surface glinting dully in the flickering firelight. The room seemed colder somehow, emptier, as though the flames themselves were losing the will to fight against the encroaching dark.

The silence pressed down, heavy and suffocating.

His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, reaching for the vial. His fingers trembled as they closed around the cool glass, the faint quiver betraying the storm raging beneath his impassive exterior. He held it up, watching the liquid swirl under the amber glow of the fire. For a moment, he hesitated—then tipped his head back, letting the bitter contents slide down his throat in one unbroken motion.

The burn was sharp. Familiar. Almost comforting.

But it fixed nothing.

The ache inside him remained, raw and unrelenting. He stayed rooted to the chair, unable to move, the weight of his grief pinning him down. His eyes drifted to the shards of glass scattered across the carpet, their jagged edges catching the firelight like cruel reflections of his fractured soul.

With a sudden, violent motion, he hurled the empty vial into the flames. It shattered on impact, the fire greedily consuming the fragments until nothing remained.

His head dropped into his hands, shoulders curling inward as though trying to shield himself from the crushing weight of everything he couldn't escape. The room fell silent again, save for the crackle of the fire, each ember rising like a ghost of what once was.

And then, it happened. Just as it always did.

The impossible.

You appeared.

Bruce's cold, detached eyes flickered, his breath hitching as the warmth of an illusion—one he neither welcomed nor could let go—took shape before him.

You were perched on the edge of the canopy seat by the window, your silk pajamas catching the soft firelight in a way that felt achingly real. One leg was tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily, your toes grazing the rug in that familiar way that sent a sharp pang through his chest.

Your hair spilled loose around your shoulders, soft and untamed, just as it had on those stolen nights when dawn would catch you both mid-conversation, the rest of the world forgotten.

And then there was the smile. That quiet, tender smile—the one that had unraveled him every time, breaking through walls he hadn't even realized he'd built.

The billionaire swallowed hard, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. "What now?"

Bruce's bitter smile wavered as you tilted your head, amusement flickering in your eyes like embers in the fire.

"What am I, a genie?" you teased, your voice light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken. Your gaze darted to the flames, where the shattered remnants of the vial had disappeared. "Summoning me with your little bottle of dope?"

His laugh was dry, almost inaudible. "I take it for the pain," he murmured, the words heavy, fragile, as if they might shatter under the weight of his grief. His eyes found yours, softening in a way that made him feel utterly exposed. "To keep warm."

You moved then, gliding across the room with that effortless grace he had memorized, your bare feet soundless against the carpet. He stiffened when he felt your fingers ghost across his shoulder—a touch too warm, too tender to be real. Yet he didn't pull away.

"Is that what it's for?" you asked, your voice wrapping around him like a balm for a wound that would never heal. "The warmth?"

Bruce closed his eyes, his head dipping forward slightly as if trying to catch just a moment more of the phantom sensation. "The warmth," he echoed, his voice breaking. "All this time..."

You moved again, slipping into the space beside him on the couch, your presence as vivid as the firelight dancing in his peripheral vision.

He turned toward you, and for the briefest, most treacherous moment, it felt real—your scent, your nearness, the way you looked at him like you could see straight through to his soul.

He leaned in, his breath catching as he inhaled the memory of you, his eyes fluttering shut in the desperate hope that he could hold on just a little longer. Just a little longer.

But deep down, he knew.

It wasn't real.

It never was.

The realization struck like a knife twisting in his chest, but he clung to the illusion all the same. He would take anything—anything—to feel you again, even if it was a cruel lie conjured by his own fractured mind.

To touch you. To kiss you. To lose himself in you, the only solace he had ever known.

Since your death, there had been no one else. No empty arms, no fleeting connections. He didn't want anyone else. Couldn't. It was always you. It would always be you.

"I know," you whispered, your hand brushing his cheek in a gesture so gentle, it nearly broke him. His breath hitched, a tear slipping free.

"Our love still remains," you said, your words a quiet promise in the suffocating silence.

And you were right.

Because no matter who tried to step into his life, none of them could ever compare to you.

Bruce's head bowed, his shoulders trembling as he pressed his forehead to the illusion of your hand.

He didn't speak, didn't dare. He let the hallucination linger, let it fill the gaping void inside him for as long as it would. When it faded—and it always did—the cold would return, and he would be alone once more.

They lingered in that fragile silence, heavy with the weight of unsaid words, the room echoing with everything neither could bear to voice.

At last, you broke it, your tone steady yet tender. "But you have to listen, Bruce. To the voices you hear. To what they're telling you."

His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes squeezing shut as if to block out everything but you. "There's too much to do," he whispered, his voice trembling, breaking under the strain. His breath hitched unevenly. "The kids... the city... it never stops."

When he finally opened his eyes, they met yours, glassy and filled with unshed tears. "I need to say goodbye," he confessed, his voice a raw whisper, hoarse and fractured.

He rubbed his face with trembling hands, weary to his bones. "I need to sleep... just for a little while."

Your hands cradled his face again, grounding him in the moment, as real to him as the warmth of the fire. "Then think, Bruce," you urged, your voice a mix of unwavering love and quiet strength. "Think about what I would tell you. About what you need to do."

A tear slipped down his cheek, his body trembling as he leaned into the phantom touch. He tried to form words, but they came out as fractured pieces of his anguish. "It's too much... I can't... I should've..."

His voice cracked and faltered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've protected you. I should've saved you."

"You don't need to apologize," you said softly, your voice cutting through his despair like a light in the dark. "I was never angry with you, Bruce. I never could be."

His chest clenched painfully, a fresh wave of tears spilling free. "But I failed you," he choked out, his voice barely audible.

"You didn't fail me," you replied, your words sharp yet soothing. "But you're failing yourself."

You moved in closer, kneeling in front of him, your hands lifting his face so his eyes met yours.

There was a love in your gaze that steadied him, but also something more—a heaviness, a truth he couldn't yet name. "This isn't the way, Bruce. I won't let you destroy yourself like this."

His grief overtook him, his entire frame trembling with the force of it. "I can't let go," he admitted, his voice breaking as fresh sobs racked his body. "Not of you. Not yet."

Your smile returned, soft and filled with sadness. "Then let go of the pain," you said gently. "Let go of the guilt. Let go of the past. I'm here, but I can't stay. Not like this. Not while you're lost in the dark."

His heart shattered again, the pieces cutting deeper, but he couldn't deny the truth in your words.

"Please," he whispered, his voice raw, pleading, desperate. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone."

But you were already slipping away, your warmth dissipating like smoke, fading from his grasp.

He reached out, his hands trembling, but there was nothing there—nothing to hold onto. The room grew colder, your presence vanishing into the shadows, leaving him alone in the silence.

The fire crackled softly, its flames flickering weakly against the oppressive darkness. The emptiness of the room settled over him, pressing down with a weight he couldn't bear.

"I'll never let go," he whispered, his voice fragile, a shattered promise he knew he could never keep.

But you were gone. And the silence consumed everything.

Bruce's hand lingered on his cheek, still warm from where you'd touched him, but it too began to cool, slipping away too quickly.

Long moments passed before his voice cracked through the stillness, breaking the silence like glass. "I'll think," he murmured into the void. "I promise."

Even as the words left his lips, they felt empty—hollow echoes in a room full of nothing. 

As hollow as the man who spoke them.

go check [ TU’BURNI (Bruce Wayne fic) ]

Little thing while I write the next chapters of TU’BURNI :)

I’ve been considering publishing one of my Tommy Shelby fics, so if anyone’s interested, please lmk.

[koiiiji]

quick question : which actor you immediately imagine when someone mentions batman or when you writing/reading fanfics?

i’ll go first — ben affleck🙂‍↕️🫂

ed. : specifically batman vs superman version!!

[supercap2319]

Y/N came into Dick's room, finding him sitting at his desk as he looked up from some documents that he was reading. "Okay not trying to alarm you, but if you happen to see the Gotham Daily tonight, I'm on it." Y/N said.

Dick narrowed his eyes. "Why would you be on the Gotham Daily?"

Y/N blushed and rubbed his neck. "The news choppers may or may not have caught Bruce and me fucking. He was on patrol when he got kinda hot. I offered to help him out and he fucked me in his bat costume.'

He glanced at Dick, who, looked confused, grossed out, and pissed all one go. "You really are the slut of the Bat family."

[alienguts]

Don't Go (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: An injury leads to Bruce and Y/N's first fight.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, arguing, mentions of injuries, blood, and death, Bruce being an asshole, then apologising for it, Alfred being a sweetheart

Request?: No

A/N: This series was getting a little too sweet, so here's some angst before the finale. (also, apparently bruce goes commando under the suit, but for the sake of keeping this fic PG, he doesn't here)

1 - Picking Up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me | 4 - Cocoon | 5 - Don't Go | 6 - Finale

Y/N felt sick to her stomach. So sick that she felt like all of her panic was about to jump up her throat and spill out of her mouth.

Bruce had warned her about how ugly things could get when he went out at night, and she’d totally understood that. She had known for the entirety of their adult lives how ugly it could get, but just knowing wasn’t the same as seeing it for herself.

A cut or some bruises were things that she was used to seeing at this point in their relationship. She’d lost count of how many she’d found littered across Bruce’s body when he eventually crawled into bed with her in the small hours of the morning, how many times she’d gone to hug him, only to pull away when he winced in pain.

She constantly told herself that this was what she had gotten herself into when she and Bruce decided to become a couple, but she couldn’t help but worry.

When Bruce had come home with five broken ribs and could barely get out of the car or even walk without spitting up blood, she felt like she was on the verge of a breakdown. Bruce, Alfred, and the boys had all managed to talk her down while he got patched up, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to lose him so soon.

“I’ll be okay,” he kept saying to her when he noticed that she couldn’t stop shaking. “I’ve been through worse than this before.”

“I know, but..” Y/N trailed off, trying to find the right words through her panic.

“Listen,” Bruce said softly as he placed his hands on her shoulders, grounding her and bringing her thoughts back to him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll take some time off to heal and send the boys out instead.”

She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and hold him close to her, but she didn’t want to make him feel any more pain. Instead, she placed her palms on his chest and rested her head against him, listening to his heartbeat as it quickened. He grunted softly as he raised his arms to wrap around her, not caring whether it hurt or not.

“Promise me you won’t go until you’re better,” she said, her voice muffled by the bandages around his chest. Her eyes stung with fresh tears that threatened to fall, but she kept them at bay.

“I promise,” he said as he stiffly stooped down to rest his cheek on the top of her head.

True to his word, Bruce stayed home at night instead of going out with the boys, manning the comms and giving instructions from home. During the day, he gave conference calls from home, explaining that he’d had an accident and had been advised by his “doctor” to take it easy.

Y/N enjoyed having his company during the time he was home, but it didn’t last long. By the second week of healing, she could tell that he was starting to get stir-crazy; she’d come down into the Cave many times to find him working on something. At first she just let him do whatever he was doing; usually just tinkering with small gadgets or looking through case files. But once he’d worked his way up to trying to work on heavy machinery, she had to step in.

“Bruce, you need to be resting,” Y/N said as she took the wrench out of his hand.

“I am resting,” he said as he bit back another groan, his ribs still sore.

“This is not resting, this is work.” Y/N gently helped him stand and they made their way back upstairs. “I know you’re bored, but this isn’t helping you get better.

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not bored, I just would rather do something.”

“That’s called being bored,” Y/N said when they’d reached the sofa in the living room. “I know I can’t be here for you all the time, but you need to have safer ways to keep yourself occupied.”

“Okay, okay,” he sighed as they both settled into the cushions. “No work until I’m better. Promise.”

But by the third week of recovery, Bruce was sick of sitting around the house and was suiting up to go out. Y/N knew something was up when she arrived at the Manor in the evening to see how Bruce was, only to not be able to find him anywhere.

Of course, there was only one place he could be.

Y/N left her bag and coat next to the front door before rushing through the Manor, finding the secret entrance in the study, and making her way down to the Cave. Just as her instincts had said, she found him already suited up and ready to leave for the night, Alfred close by to man the comms.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked him, breathless from running to him. “I thought you were still healing.”

“There’s an important case that needs my attention,” he said as he reached for his cowl. “The boys can’t handle it alone.”

“And you still have five broken ribs. You should be resting, Bruce,” Y/N said as she took a step closer to him. She could see Alfred quirk an eyebrow out of the corner of her eye, silently agreeing with her.

“I’m fine, Y/N. I’ve been in worse states than this, and I’ve managed perfectly. Stop worrying so much.”

Y/N knew exactly what he was talking about. She remembered when Bane had snapped his spine in two and she remembered how stubborn he’d been then too. And how he’d fallen for his doctor, despite her being right there. But that was a long time ago, and Bruce hadn’t changed that much.

She was terrified of losing him.

She could feel the fear rising in her, making her body shake and her eyes blur with tears. But on top of that fear was anger, red and bright as she stood there and looked at him in complete disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she seethed, clenching her fists beside her to try to keep her composure. “I’ve been worried sick about you for weeks, I took care of you and made sure you didn’t have a fucking punctured lung, and now you’re just deciding for yourself that you’re fine?”

Bruce sighed and put the cowl back down before turning to face her. His brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched; she could tell immediately that he was just as frustrated as she was.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Y/N,” he said firmly.

“Well I do,” she countered, crossing her arms. “I get it, you’re careful and you know how your body works and you’ve planned everything out to the second, but have you ever stopped to think that you could be making it worse?”

“I’m not going to make it worse, I have backup.”

“You had backup the last time, and look what happened! I almost lost you, Bruce.”

She couldn’t fight back the tears any longer, letting them roll down her hot face as her emotions flooded through her. Bruce took a step closer to her, attempted to place a comforting hand on her shoulder but she pushed him away.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for once and stop being so fucking stubborn?” she asked, her voice starting to rise in volume. She didn’t want to yell at him, but that seemed to be the only way to get through to him.

“I’ll stop being stubborn when there isn’t a case that needs my attention,” he said, his voice rolling low in his chest as he loomed over her. “I can’t stay here and babysit you, Y/N.”

Y/N stopped still, as if he’d just slapped her across the face.

“Babysit?” she spluttered. “I’m worrying that you’ll die on a rooftop in some slum and you think that I need to be babysat?”

“That’s enough, Y/N!” Bruce shouted, his voice echoing throughout the Cave. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alfred stop typing, leaving the three of them in an unbearably uncomfortable silence. Bruce had never raised her voice to her, not even when they were having petty spats as children. She wanted the world to swallow her up.

He turned away to reach for the cowl and sighed deeply.

“I never had this problem with Selina,” she heard him say to himself.

“What?” she said, not sure if she wanted him to repeat himself or because she couldn’t believe her ears.

We never talk about her. Why is he bringing her up now?

For the whole year that they’d been together, Selina was never mentioned. Y/N knew that Bruce didn’t want to talk about her since she shattered his heart, and Bruce knew that Y/N didn’t like her.

He must really want me to hurt if he’s bringing her up.

“I said I never had this problem with Selina,” he said, slower, making sure she heard every word that came out of his mouth.

Y/N felt the world start to spin around her, the red mist starting to rise as his words echoed around her head. She couldn’t stand to be in the Cave anymore, or even in the Manor. She needed to get out, and fast.

“I need to go,” she said quietly as she turned her feet and made to scurry away.

“Wait,” she heard Bruce say, an expression of realisation on his face as he reached out to her, but she couldn’t bear to be next to him.

The last thing she heard as she ran up the steps was Alfred’s voice, chiding him for speaking to her like that.

Once she’d reached her car, she fumbled with her keys to open the door and wrenched it open before throwing herself inside and closing the door behind her. She furiously wiped away her tears and tried to compose herself, but it was no use. Her breaths came out in pathetic sobs and gasps as she soaked her sleeves with her tears.

Y/N had lost track of how long she’d been crying when a knock on the driver’s side window made her jump. She wiped her eyes and looked to her left to see Alfred on the other side, a look of concern on his face.

“Hi Alfred,” she said feebly as she rolled the window down, trying to keep her voice even. “Did Bruce send you up?”

“No, Ms. Y/N, he already left for the night,” Alfred said, his voice calm and soothing.

“Oh.” She visibly deflated in her seat and tried to not let her eyes well up again.

“I just need you to know something,” he said. “Master Bruce didn’t mean what he said to you, he’s just frustrated about not being able to do his job.”

“Then why take it out on me?”

“Because you’re the only one who’s fought back against him. We’ve all told him that he should rest, but none of us could get through to him. Not even Master Damian.”

Y/N inhaled deeply and let her breath back out shakily. “I just don’t want to lose him, Alfred.”

“I know you don’t. None of us do, and I know that he doesn’t want to lose you either. When he’s not talking about work, you’re the only thing he talks about.”

“I am?” she asked softly, her heart lifting a little.

“You are.” Alfred gave her a warm smile. “I know the two of you don’t like to talk about Ms. Kyle but the way he felt about her way was nothing like the way he feels about you. It’s as if the two of you were meant to be together from the beginning.”

Y/N opened the car door and jumped out to hug him. He was startled at first but returned her hug before letting her go again.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Y/N said as she started to get back into the car.

“Won’t you stay? I’m sure Master Bruce would like to talk to you when he gets back.”

“No, I think I should go home,” she said. “I need to clear my mind after what just happened.”

Alfred nodded in understanding and stepped away to let her go.

After wishing each other good night, Y/N drove back to her apartment, feeling a little better, but still wounded by what Bruce had said to her.

Later that night, as Y/N was getting ready for bed, she heard footsteps in her apartment.

She froze as she put her toothbrush down, worried that someone had broken in. Gotham’s Lower East Side had never been the safest part of the city, but Y/N always considered herself lucky that she’d never run into any trouble.

Cautiously, she poked her head out of the bathroom and scanned the apartment, looking for anything suspicious. As soon as she felt at ease again, she turned the bathroom light off and stepped into the main room, closing the door behind her. 

She went into her bedroom, finally ready to turn in for the night, when she found a large dark figure sitting on the end of her bed.

“Jesus Christ, Bruce!” she said with shock. “Don’t fucking do that!”

“Sorry,” Bruce said as he stood up, still suited up but the cowl down so she could see his face.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked, still standing in the doorway. “I thought you had an important case you needed to work on.”

“I do, but I need to talk to you. That’s more important.”

Y/N wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Half of her wanted him to stay and talk to her, the other half was still wounded and wanted him to leave.

“Okay, we’ll talk,” she said, watching as he walked across the room to her and took his gauntlets off.

Bruce sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’ve been frustrated and in pain, and I took it out on you.”

Y/N felt her heart twist in her chest. She knew that Bruce had never been the best at expressing his emotions, but she knew when he was being genuine. But that still didn’t explain one thing.

“Why did you bring her up?” she asked, her voice small as she looked up at him. “After all this time, we never talk about her.”

“I don’t know,” he said with another sigh. “I don’t know why I said it, but I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. You were just worried about me and I was so focused on myself that I couldn’t see that.”

Y/N felt her eyes well with tears again, but she didn’t let them fall until she wrapped her arms around him and gently rested her head on his chest. She couldn’t hear his heartbeat through his armour, but she knew it was there, beating just for her.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, her voice muffled. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” he said as he returned her embrace and led them to sit down on the bed again. “You were right, I wasn’t listening to you and I needed to rest. It was too soon for me to go back out.”

“But your work,” Y/N started before Bruce cut her off again.

“Work can wait, I can still help from home, and you’re more important.”

She moved from where she sat beside him and lifted herself up onto her knees to take his face in her hands. She looked at him briefly, seeing how his eyes were full of love for her and begging her forgiveness, before bringing him to her for a soft kiss.

Bruce eagerly returned her kiss and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her down onto the mattress with him. Y/N pushed her body closer into his chest, wanting to feel him more but still being conscious about his sore ribs underneath the armour.

“I love you,” he said against her lips.

“I love you too,” she said back before pulling back to rest her head on his chest.

“Will you come home now?” Bruce asked her after a long silence.

“I’m already home,” Y/N said confusedly as she sat up slightly to look at him.

“No, not here. Come home with me.”

“What, you mean permanently?”

Bruce nodded before reaching out to stroke her face. “Come live with me, it’s safer than here.”

She kissed him again, letting her lips linger against his before resting her forehead against his.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bruce mumbled against her mouth as he pulled her to lie on top of him.

“Yeah, it is,” she said with a laugh as she settled into him, her head resting in the crook of his neck. “But can we just stay here tonight? I’m already ready for bed.”

“Of course we can, I’ll stay with you.”

“Promise? You’re really going to stay?”

“I promise,” he said as he lifted her off him and started the arduous process of removing the suit.

Y/N helped him strip down to his underwear and pulled the sheets back to let him climb into bed with her. Her bed was a lot smaller than Bruce’s, but she was fine to be so close to him.

“Are you sure the boys will be okay without you?” she asked as she snuggled into him.

“They’ll be fine, they’re more than prepared for it,” Bruce said as he stroked her hair, trying to help her drift off to sleep.

Y/N could tell that he wasn’t as tired as she was, but she was just content to be in his arms as she slept.

“I’ve got so much stuff to move out of here,” she mused through a yawn, her thoughts back to moving into the Manor. To really be a member of the family once again.

“We don’t have to do everything at once,” Bruce said, feeling his own body start to grow tired. “I just want to have you with me as soon as I can.”

Y/N hummed in content and let her eyes drift closed, her head resting against his warm chest as she listened to his heartbeat, letting it soothe her to sleep. The feeling of Bruce’s hands softly stroking her skin melted away any memories of what had happened earlier and replaced them with soft thoughts of being able to sleep like this with him forever.

“Y/N?” Bruce asked, keeping his voice quiet to make sure she was asleep.

When she didn’t respond, he gently kissed her forehead and settled down to sleep himself, holding her close to his chest. He felt her fingers curl against him, and winced a little when his ribs ached, but kept himself still to not wake her up.

“Sleep well, darling,” he said quietly as he let sleep take over him.

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

the detective & the dark knight | chapter 12

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!main character

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, blood

Chapter List

Marie stood at the stove in Wayne Manor’s vast, quiet kitchen, the stillness of early morning wrapping around her like a blanket. She stifled a yawn, absently stirring the eggs as the weariness from last night’s stakeout clung to her, making her eyelids feel heavy.

She should’ve been exhausted enough to sleep through the dawn, but something in her wouldn’t let her rest, not while Bruce was still out there.

Her mind wandered to the waterfront from the night before, to the adrenaline that had burned through her as she’d crouched in the shadows beside Batman. 

They’d scanned every corner of a local shipyard, waiting for any sign of Sal Maroni’s men, certain they were close to a breakthrough in the Red Lotus case.

But after hours of tense waiting, damp and hidden, they'd come up empty yet again. Maroni had slipped away, like he always did, leaving them grasping at air.

At around 1 a.m., Bruce finally told her to go home. The stakeout was done, and he insisted she should try to get some sleep. Even as she made her way back to the manor through Gotham’s empty streets, she knew Batman wasn’t finished yet. He’d be diving back into the city’s shadows, chasing down loose ends, as he always did.

She couldn’t say the stakeout was entirely awful—after all, she got to spend the evening with Bruce, even if it was in a rundown shipyard. Since that night on the yacht several weeks ago, they’d fallen into a rhythm—working cases and stealing whatever time together they could.

The smell of coffee joined the eggs, warm and grounding, and she poured herself a cup, wrapping her hands around the mug. Sleep wouldn’t come—not until she knew he was home, safe. And so, she found herself here at 5 a.m., in the soft light of the kitchen, cooking breakfast and waiting.

“Looks like I have a fellow early bird in my midst,” Alfred’s warm voice sounded behind her, bringing a smile to her lips. He moved into the kitchen with his usual grace.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, offering him a fresh mug of coffee, steam swirling between them. “Hard to settle in when he’s still out there.”

Alfred took the coffee with a small nod, his gaze kind. “Ah, yes. I remember those first sleepless nights, when he started going out.” He took a sip, his tone warm and reassuring. “He may not always come home in one piece, but he always comes home. I hope that’s some comfort.”

Marie’s smile softened as she nodded. “He’s lucky he’s always had you to come home to.”

“Oh, me?” Alfred scoffed, a glint of fondness in his eye. “I���m just some old, stuffy butler. Now you—he’s truly lucky to have.”

Marie felt a blush creeping up as she opened her mouth to respond, but a subtle beep sounded from a monitor across the kitchen, catching both of their attention.

“Oh, looks like he’s just pulled into the cave,” Alfred said, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.

Marie’s face lit up, and she was already halfway to the door. “Thanks, Alfred! Don’t eat all the eggs without me,” she called over her shoulder, hurrying toward the Batcave.

Alfred chuckled, calling after her, “Of course, Miss Marie.”

As she slipped down the familiar path to the Batcave, the excitement in her chest grew as her mind raced with a dozen questions about the case.

Marie stepped into the cold, steel-lined elevator, feeling the hum as it lowered her into the depths of the Batcave. As the doors slid open, she took in the sprawling shadows and the soft glow from the computers. Her pulse quickened, and she stepped forward, her eyes searching for him among the dark, familiar shapes.

The Batmobile’s sleek black silhouette came into view, parked and hummed faintly as it powered down. Bruce stepped out, his face half-shadowed by the cowl, exhaustion tugging at his features. He looked up, surprised to see her. His mouth tilted into a smirk as he pulled off the cowl, letting it dangle at his side.

“Look who couldn’t stay away.” he teased, his voice laced with a husky weariness.

Marie crossed her arms as she leaned against the railing. “I thought I’d come down to get the scoop on what went down last night,” she replied casually, though her grin betrayed her excitement.

Bruce arched an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Not at all concerned about my safety, I see.”

Marie laughed as she stepped forward with playful indifference. “Oh, right. That. I guess I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Then, her expression softened, her eyes meeting his with a quiet sincerity. “But really... this city is lucky to have you, Bruce.”

“Just doing my civic duty,” he murmured, his voice softening as she came closer. But as Marie stepped into the light, she could see the exhaustion etched into his face—the faint bruising under his eyes, the slump in his shoulders. He was trying to mask it, standing tall, but the night had clearly worn on him.

She reached for his hand, her fingers lacing through his, and his grip tightened. Without a word, he pulled her into him, his other hand resting at the small of her back, drawing her closer. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the weight of the night pressing on him, but he didn’t pull away.

Marie looked up at him, her thumb brushing the edge of his jaw, her gaze searching. “Are you okay?” Her voice was gentle, yet the concern was clear in her eyes.

Bruce hesitated, his brow furrowing just slightly as he pulled her in tighter, as if grounding himself with her touch. “You know I can handle it,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, but there was a softness there, a crack in the armor. “But it’s a hell of a lot easier when I know you’re here waiting for me.”

Before she could respond, his lips met hers—soft, almost reverent—as if the world could disappear for just a moment while they held onto each other.

When they finally pulled back, she brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead, smiling as she saw him look a little less tired, a little more alive.

“Not too tired to spill some case details, are you?” she whispered playfully, her hand resting on his chest.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

His hands lingered on her waist as he led her over to the massive desk at the center of the Batcave. Monitors filled every inch of the surface, each one displaying different feeds, crime reports, and city surveillance footage.

The soft hum of the machines blended with the low, rhythmic sound of Gotham’s heartbeat—chaotic, relentless, but strangely comforting.

Bruce sank into the worn leather chair, his posture still stiff. Without missing a beat, he reached out and pulled Marie into his lap, her back against his chest. As she settled there, she could feel the tension in his body—every muscle tight and coiled. But as she settled against him, her presence seemed to ease some of that weight.

His shoulders relaxed, his grip on her waist gentler than it had been moments before. Despite everything, there was a softness in the way he held her, the calm of her touch slowly unwinding the tension he’d been holding on to.

Bruce’s gaze swept over the screens in front of him, eyes narrowing as he analyzed the data. “Maroni’s getting reckless,” he muttered, his fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard to pull up reports from the latest crime scenes. “This morning, he had one of his guys take out an entire group—probably former mob members. They were murdered in cold blood. I didn’t get there in time.” His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped. “The bodies were... messy. He’s not even trying to cover it up. It’s like he’s completely gone off the rails.”

Marie gently rested her hand on the armor of his forearm, a shiver running down her spine at the thought. She’d seen the horrors in Gotham, but hearing the raw emotion in Bruce’s voice, the frustration and failure, made her chest ache.

“Seems like he’s trying to send a message,” Bruce continued, his tone hardening. “He’s trying to take control of everything, wipe out anyone who gets in his way. I don’t know if it’s power or paranoia anymore, but it’s getting worse. The city’s falling apart, and he’s at the center of it.”

Marie’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the weight of it all seemed to hang in the air, pressing them both into silence. Then, after a moment, she turned and cupped his face, her fingers brushing over the tense line of his jaw.

“We’ll stop him,” she said softly, but with certainty.

Bruce didn’t respond right away. Instead, he just leaned into her touch for a moment, as if taking some comfort in her belief.

“We need to get some rest,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Then we’ll figure out the next move.”

They got up and Bruce pulled at the buckles of his armor, each strap heavier than it should’ve been, his movements slow and deliberate. The night had taken its toll, and even shedding the suit felt like a chore.

As he peeled back the thick plates, Marie caught sight of fresh bruises blooming across his side, deep purples and reds spreading over his skin. She reached out instinctively, her fingers tracing lightly over the dark marks. He winced, breathing out a low hiss.

“Double-barrel shotgun,” he muttered, half in a growl. “Didn’t go through the armor, but the impact…” He shook his head, grimacing as her hands continued their gentle inspection. “Hurts like fuckin' hell.”

Marie’s touch softened even more, her fingertips brushing over the bruised skin with care. “You’re lucky it didn’t do worse,” she said, her voice a mix of worry and relief. She lingered there for a moment, her hand on his shoulder, grounding him as he exhaled and leaned into her, letting the weight of the night finally fall away.

Together, they headed up to the house, and the morning light filtering through the windows seemed almost foreign after the time spent in the Batcave. They moved through the house in silence, as if simply existing next to each other was enough for now.

Upstairs in the kitchen, Alfred had added pancakes and fresh fruit to Marie’s eggs, setting out a hearty spread. But after the long night, neither she nor Bruce had the energy for conversation. They sat together without speaking, heads down as they dug in, the food disappearing quickly. The quiet was comforting, each of them lost in their thoughts, the stillness of the early morning wrapping around them.

Later, after breakfast, they found themselves in the shower together. The warm water cascaded over them, steam rising as they rinsed off the remnants of the night’s work. Bruce’s hand rested gently on the small of her back, his fingers brushing her skin.

The silence between them was comfortable, but not empty—each touch, each brush of lips, spoke volumes. Marie leaned into him, her fingers tracing the lines of his chest as he slowly washed the soap from her hair.

He kissed her temple softly, a small, lingering peck, and she responded by placing a tender kiss on his jaw, her hands gliding over his back. The world outside the bathroom felt a little farther away as they stayed in the warmth of each other’s embrace.

When they finally emerged, the world still waiting for them, there was a fleeting sense of peace in the air, as if for a moment, they didn’t have to be Batman and Marie, but just two people, together. And that, for a few moments, felt like enough.

—-------------------------------

The squad room at the Gotham City Police Department buzzed with the low hum of voices and the occasional clatter of filing cabinets. It was early morning, and the air was already heavy with the mix of stale coffee and stress that seemed permanently etched into the precinct’s walls.

Detectives and patrol officers filed into the conference room, their conversations trailing off as Commissioner Gordon took his usual spot at the head of the room.

“Alright, listen up,” Gordon began, his voice cutting through the noise like the sharp edge of a blade. It was his usual speech, a rundown of Gotham’s current crime wave that reminded everyone just how thin the line between order and chaos really was. “This new string of robberies on the East Side isn’t anything we haven’t seen before. But that doesn’t mean we get complacent. Detective Bullock, Detective Flask—you’re both on it. Let’s keep this city safe, team.”

Marie stood near the back, sipping her coffee and quietly observing the room. The worn wooden chairs, the flickering overhead light, and the distant sound of a phone ringing somewhere in the building were as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.

She leaned against the wall, letting the voices of her colleagues blend into the background as her mind wandered. In a city like Gotham, trust was a rare commodity, and as she scanned the room, she couldn’t help but wonder how many of the faces she saw were secretly on Falcone or Maroni’s payroll. 

When the meeting adjourned, the room emptied in a shuffle of papers and tired footsteps. Marie lingered, gathering her thoughts as she let the usual precinct chaos wash over her. Phones rang, officers bantered, and the distant hum of the city outside seeped in through the cracks of the old building. She eventually made her way back to her desk, her mind already shifting to the grind ahead.

The morning passed in a blur of paperwork. Marie sat at her desk, the hum of the precinct around her fading as her mind wandered back to the morning.

She thought about the warm shower she’d shared with Bruce, the way they’d tangled together under the steamy water, not wanting to break the quiet comfort of it.

They’d stayed in bed longer than they should’ve, wrapped in each other’s arms, her head resting against his chest as the first light of dawn crept through the blinds.

When the alarm had blared at 7 a.m., she’d had half a mind to turn it off, curl back up with him, and forget about everything else. But she knew she had work to do, even if it was hard to leave the peace they’d found in those quiet moments.

Marie smiled to herself, a soft warmth spreading through her chest as she thought about how it felt to be back with Bruce. Despite the chaos of Gotham and their complicated lives, being with him made everything feel right, like all the pieces were falling into place.

With a sigh, she straightened in her chair and tried to refocus. The morning ahead was already full, and the crime in Gotham didn’t care about stolen moments or tired hearts.

By mid-morning, Marie found herself face-to-face with a supposed victim of a robbery—a wiry brunette with sunken cheeks and a jittery demeanor that screamed trouble.

The woman sat across from her desk, arms crossed tightly, one leg bouncing incessantly. Her eyes flitted around the precinct, never settling on one spot for too long.

“Yeah, it shook me up pretty fuckin’ badly,” the woman began, “The masked guy—he held a gun to me, wanted my purse. Little did he know there wasn’t more than twenty bucks and a coupon for a free slice at Lorenzo’s.”

Marie kept her tone professional, though she already felt the headache brewing behind her eyes. “Did you get a good look at him? Anything distinguishing?”

“No,” the woman snapped, her fingers tapping against her arm. “He had one of those dumb ski masks, okay? But then… then he showed up.”

Marie’s fingers paused on her keyboard as she looked up. “Who’s ‘he’?”

“You know,” the woman said, waving her hand like it was obvious. “Him.”

Marie arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

The woman rolled her eyes dramatically, her thin frame practically vibrating with irritation. “Oh, come on. Don’t make me say that goddamn silly nickname this city calls him. That bat freak. Batman.”

Marie nodded, suppressing the urge to smile.

“Yeah, he swooped in all high and mighty,” the woman continued, her tone sharp with sarcasm. “I figured he’d help, but, I don’t know, maybe he was busy or something. Took his damn time getting there. The fucker had already poured my purse out by by the time the bat flew in.”

Marie tilted her head, caught off guard by the complaint. “Pretty lucky he showed up at all,” she said evenly. “Otherwise, you might not be sitting here right now.”

The woman’s lips curled into a sneer, her eyes narrowing. “Lucky, huh? Real lucky that some guy in a leather costume decided to save me from losing a wallet with twenty bucks in it. If you ask me, the whole thing was sketchy.”

Marie let out a slow breath, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she’d regret. “ Any other details you want to add?”

The woman leaned back in her chair, her leg still bouncing. “Nope. That’s all I got, Detective. Can I go now?”

Marie nodded stiffly. “You’re free to go. Thanks for coming in.”

The woman rose with a jerky movement, shooting a last suspicious glance around the precinct before sauntering toward the exit.

Marie leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly as she rubbed her temples. The interaction left her somewhere between amused and exasperated. Her fingers hovered over her keyboard before she gave up, pulling out her phone instead.

Scrolling to a familiar name, she tapped the call button. As the phone rang, she realized just how much she needed to hear his voice.

Bruce picked up almost immediately, his voice warm and soothing. “Hey, everything okay?”

Marie smiled despite herself, keeping her voice low. “Yeah, all good. Why do you always assume something’s wrong?” she teased lightly.

There was a pause, then a quiet laugh from the other end. “You never call me when you’re working.”

“I call you sometimes,” she said, knowing exactly where this was going.

“You call Batman when you’re working,” he teased. “You never call Bruce. Big difference.”

She leaned forward on her desk, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not urgent. Just… I’ve been thinking about how ungrateful Gotham’s citizens are for Batman.”

“Oh?” He sounded amused. “Care to elaborate?”

Marie rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of affection in her tone. “I just spent twenty minutes listening to a woman complain about how you ‘took too long’ to save her from getting mugged. Apparently, you’re some weirdo in leather with too much time on his hands. Her words, not mine.”

There was a beat of silence before Bruce’s laugh filled the line—a rare, genuine sound that made her grin.

“Too much time on my hands?” he said, his voice rich with humor. “Maybe I should take up knitting. Think Gotham would appreciate that more?”

Marie snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, I don’t know. They’d probably complain that your scarves aren’t long enough or that the yarn’s too scratchy.”

Bruce chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “It’s a thankless job,” he admitted after a pause, his tone softening. “But that’s not why I do it.”

Marie felt her chest tighten at his sincerity. “You’re a better person than most, Bruce.”

There was a brief pause before he replied, his voice warm with quiet affection. “Takes one to know one.”

Her heart softened at the words, her admiration for him deepening.

After a moment, his tone shifted, tinged with concern. “You sound tired. Did you get any sleep last night?”

She hesitated, her mind flickering back to the hours she’d spent waiting for him to come home. “Enough,” she said lightly, though she knew it wasn’t convincing.

“Marie,” he said, his voice dipping into that low, intimate tone that always undid her. “I told you, you don’t have to stay up for me.”

“Why should I get to sleep if you’re out there fighting crime?” she countered, her tone teasing but not quite masking the truth.

Bruce chuckled, the sound sincere. “Because my day job involves sleeping until noon as a billionaire playboy. Yours involves, you know, real work. Important work. The kind that requires sleep.”

When she didn’t immediately reply, he continued gently, guilt threading through his words. “You’ve got enough on your plate without losing sleep over me. I mean it.”

“I don’t mind,” she said softly, and she meant it. “I just like knowing you made it back in one piece.”

Bruce let out a quiet sigh, one that carried both affection and exasperation. “Hey, you know I always will.”

Her heart softened at his words. Leaning back in her chair, she exhaled, the weight of the day lifting just a little. “You don’t need to worry about me, Bruce. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice gentle. “But I’ll worry anyway.”

For a moment, the silence between them felt warm, grounding her in a way only he could.

“Tell you what,” he said finally, his tone lightening. “When you’re off duty, we’ll catch up on some much-needed rest. Together.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Wayne.”

“Good,” he said, a touch of humor returning to his voice. “Now, get back to work before Gordon starts thinking I’m distracting his best detective.”

Marie ended the call, her heart lighter and her mind steadier. Whatever the day had in store, she felt ready to face it.

—-------------------------------

The afternoon stretched on, the quiet lull of the precinct giving way to the late hours of Marie’s shift. She glanced at the clock, her body already anticipating the end of the day. With most of the department winding down, she grabbed her coat and made her way to the breakroom.

The fluorescent lights hummed softly above her as she poured herself a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the empty space. She leaned against the counter for a moment, the weight of the day finally starting to hit her. All she could think about was the warm bed waiting for her and the familiar comfort of Bruce by her side.

Marie’s phone buzzed in her pocket, the unknown number flashing across the screen.

“Detective Manning,” she said, her tone firm, bracing for another generic lead or dead-end tip.

The silence on the other end stretched on, then a shaky breath, and in a voice barely more than a whisper: “I can’t keep fuckin’ doing this.”

Her chest tightened. She recognized that voice immediately, even though he hadn’t said his name. There was no mistaking the fear under the familiar tone—Tony Zucco.

Marie looked around the room to make sure no one could hear the conversation, confusion flickering across her face. “Why are you calling me?” she asked, struggling to hide the surprise and the faint trace of concern in her voice.

There was a long pause before he exhaled, his voice barely holding together. “I don’t have anyone else to call,” he murmured, raw and vulnerable, like he was on the verge of breaking.

“Look, just—listen,” he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. “I’m in deep shit here, okay? Maroni… he’s gone insane. He’s threatening families. Not just his enemies—anyone who crosses him or looks at him the wrong way. I’ve got people to protect. I don’t have a choice.”

The desperation in his voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the cocky, untouchable Zucco she’d met before.

Marie’s expression hardened. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you signed up with a psychopath,” she said coldly.

“Damn it, don’t you think I know that?” His voice cracked, and she could hear the strain. “Look, I don’t give a damn what you think of me, alright? Just—Maroni’s setting up another drop tonight. East side docks. He’s moving product, but it’s different this time. He’s avoiding the usual route because he thinks Batman’s gonna be waiting for him there.”

Marie’s pulse quickened. Maroni knew about their stakeouts. That’s why he was avoiding his regular shipment routes.

Zucco’s voice lowered, fear thickening his words. “I’m telling you this because he’s not just coming for me. He’ll go after my family next. Please, you gotta understand, I’m—” His words trailed off.

Marie’s heart raced as she processed the information. “Thank you for the heads up,” she said, trying to keep her tone steady. When Zucco didn’t respond, she pressed, “Are you going to be safe?”

Zucco let out a harsh laugh, almost bitter. “Am I going to be safe? I’m a dead man walking, especially after talking to you. Maroni’s never going to stop. And if he finds me, I’m gonna fuckin’ wish I was dead.”

Marie softened her tone, hoping to reassure him. “I get it, Zucco. I really do. But you have to listen to me—GCPD can provide protection. We can get you into witness protection, change your name, anything you need. We’ll put units outside your house, keep an eye on your family—”

Zucco cut her off with a scoff, bitterness in his laugh. “Yeah? You really think your department is gonna protect me? Maroni’s got most of your cops in his pocket. They’re all paid off to look the other way. You don’t think I know that?” His voice was cracking now, the fear overwhelming his usual bravado.

“I’m not asking you to trust everyone at the GCPD,” Marie said, her voice steady and firm. “I’m asking you to trust me. I’ll make sure Maroni doesn’t get to you or your family. You have my word.” She thought about Bruce, and how she would tell him about this, and knew he would do everything in his power to keep Zucco’s family safe.

There was a long, heavy silence. For a moment, Marie thought he might hang up, but then his voice came through again, softer, almost regretful. “I want to believe you, Manning. I really do. You’re one of the few good cops left, but…” He hesitated, “I can’t. I’ll tell you this though—Maroni’s losing his grip. He’s taking down his own guys. The East Side docks will be your best shot. He’ll be there tonight, with more security. He’s scared. He knows that Batman’s after him.”

Marie’s heart skipped a beat. “I’ll be there,” she replied, her voice firm. “And Zucco… thank you.”

The line fell quiet for a moment, before Zucco’s voice cracked through again, quieter this time. “I hope you can pull this off, Manning. I really do.”

Then the line went dead.

—-------------------------------

Marie’s nerves were on edge as she made her way up the winding drive toward Wayne Manor. The weight of the phone call from Zucco felt like a lead weight in her chest, pressing harder with every step.

Her fingers were trembling as she dialed the code for the gates to open. Once they slid open, she drove the familiar path toward the garage, her thoughts scattered.

Her mind kept replaying Zucco’s voice—broken, afraid, and desperate. He didn’t sound like the same man who punched her in the face months ago, or the cocky, overconfident mobster she had once dealt with. Now, he was just another terrified man trying to save his family.

But there was so much risk. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him, or if Maroni was setting a trap. The possibility that it could all go horribly wrong gnawed at her.

When she pulled into the garage, the doors slid shut behind her. She took a shaky breath before stepping out of the car. She didn’t even take her coat off before she was walking into the house, her heart pounding in her chest. She needed to talk to Bruce.

Marie found Bruce in the study, hunched over his computer, his eyes scanning the screen as he likely sifted through case files or crime reports. He looked both serious and relaxed, the usual intensity in his gaze softened by the casualness of his attire—a plain t-shirt and well-worn jeans.

His hand ran through his hair absentmindedly, a telltale sign that he was deep in thought. When he heard the door click open, his head snapped up, and his face instantly brightened.

“Hey, you’re home,” he said with a warm smile, his voice full of quiet excitement as he stood up, eager to approach her. But as soon as he took in her expression, the smile faltered. His brow furrowed in concern, and his posture shifted, tense. “Marie, what’s wrong?”

Marie felt her heart race, her hands trembling as she made her way toward him. The words were stuck in her throat, and no matter how hard she tried to focus, everything around her felt distant. She couldn’t find the words.

“I know where Maroni’s going to be tonight,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes locked on Bruce, and she could see how he was watching her carefully, noting her unease.

She felt the knot in her chest grow tighter. “Zucco called me. He said Maroni’s going to be at the East Side docks for a drug drop. He’s been avoiding his usual routes, trying to outsmart Batman, but tonight he’s making a move.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the information. “That’s a good lead, Marie,” he said, his voice soft but firm, trying to keep things calm. “If we know where he is, we can take him down.”

But Marie shook her head, her hands clenched into fists by her sides. She could feel her nerves rising, her heart racing in her chest. “That’s the thing,” she said, her voice cracking a little. She had to take a deep breath to steady herself. “The last time we came this close to Maroni, Bruce...you almost died. I can’t—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his hand gently resting on her shoulders, grounding her. His touch was warm, and she could feel the steadiness of him seep into her. “I’m not dead, baby. I’m right here. It’s okay.”

She met his gaze, but the racing thoughts in her mind only made her anxiety worse. “But what if Zucco’s lying? What if it’s another trap? What if we’re walking straight into it, just like last time?” Her voice cracked, trembling with fear as she spoke. Every worst-case scenario played out in her head, and the weight of it all felt suffocating.

Bruce’s expression softened, the ever-present intensity in his eyes taking on a gentler edge. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said, voice low but resolute. “You know that, right?”

Marie closed her eyes briefly, her chest tightening further as she took in his words. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to feel the certainty that he seemed to have, but the doubt clung to her, stubborn and persistent.

Marie opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his with an intensity that matched his own. “I’m not worried about that,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m worried about something happening to you.”

The words hit Bruce like a wave, and for a moment, he felt deeply emotional in a way he hadn’t anticipated. She cared, truly cared, about him.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye despite herself. “I’m scared. What if I lead you into something even worse than last time? What if I fail again?” She bit her lip, trying to suppress the wave of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her.

Bruce exhaled slowly, taking a step closer to her, his hands moving to her arms as he gently held her. “Hey, you’re not failing anyone,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I know it’s terrifying. I know the stakes are high. But I trust you, Marie. I trust your instincts, and I trust that you wouldn’t put me in harm’s way if you didn’t think we could take him down.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt again,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She pressed her hands to her face for a moment, taking another shaky breath. “I just—what if I’m wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” Bruce reassured her, his voice soft but unwavering. He tilted her chin up so their eyes met. “You’ve already done more than most people ever would. And you’ll keep doing what you do best—fighting for what’s right. If there’s a chance to stop Maroni, we take it. Together.”

Her breath caught, her chest tightening as she gazed up at him. She wanted so badly to believe him, to trust that everything would be okay. She was scared, terrified even, of what might happen next. But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His confidence in her was unwavering, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean into it.

“Alright,” she said, her voice a little steadier now. “I’ll do it. I’ll go to the docks.”

Bruce’s hand touched her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin. “I’ll be with you,” he promised. “You’re not doing this alone.”

Bruce wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Let’s take this fucker down.” he said quietly with a smirk. Marie chuckled and felt the nerves fade.

—-------------------------------

The East Side docks stretched out like a massive, industrial labyrinth, filled with towering shipping containers. The cold air smelled of salt and rust, and the distant groan of the bay mingled with the occasional clang of metal. Dim security lights cast eerie, flickering glows over the maze, giving the entire area an unsettling vibe.

Marie and Gordon moved carefully through the narrow alleys formed by stacked containers, their boots crunching on gravel and grit. The tension was palpable, each creak or echo sending Marie’s hand instinctively to the butt of her gun.

“This place is massive,” she whispered to Gordon, her voice barely carrying over the ambient noise.

Marie’s eyes darted from container to container, her senses on high alert. She knew they weren’t alone. Even though they couldn’t see him, she could feel it—the constant, oppressive awareness that Batman was trailing them from the shadows, ensuring their safety. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but it was impossible to ignore the quiet reassurance his presence brought. 

Gordon nodded, his hand hovering near his flashlight. “We’ll have to split up to cover more ground.”

Marie hesitated, glancing over her shoulder, as if to look for Batman in the shadows.

“Stay sharp,” Gordon added before moving off to investigate a rusted tugboat docked nearby.

Marie continued alone, scanning her surroundings. The containers loomed around her, the shadows between them deep and foreboding. She tightened her grip on her weapon, every sense heightened.

Suddenly, a faint rush of air stirred above her, followed by a soft thud.

“Anything yet?” Batman’s low, gravelly voice came from the shadows to her left.

Marie startled but didn’t jump, masking her surprise. She glanced at him as he emerged from the darkness, his towering frame blending seamlessly with the night.

“Nothing yet,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “Gordon’s checking by the docked boats.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed, scanning the containers ahead. “Stay close to cover. Maroni’s security is everywhere.”

They moved together, their footsteps eerily silent on the gravel. The weight of the case hung between them, unspoken but heavy. In moments like these, Marie tried to focus on Batman as her partner, pushing aside thoughts of the man beneath the mask. She tried to keep her emotions in check, though it wasn’t easy.

The moment shattered when Batman suddenly stopped, his hand shooting out to halt her.

“What—” she began, but he cut her off, “Don’t look.” he said curtly.

His gaze was fixed ahead, just around the corner of a container. The grim set of his jaw made her stomach knot. Ignoring his warning, she stepped forward.

“Detective stop—” Batman began, putting his arm up to keep Marie away, though she peeked around him.

Zucco’s body lay crumpled against the metal wall, his face frozen in a rictus of terror. Blood pooled beneath him, the sharp metallic tang of it cutting through the salty air. His lifeless eyes stared out into the void, his chest adorned with the unmistakable mark of the red lotus tattoo.

Marie’s breath hitched. She felt an overwhelming wave of guilt crash over her, her legs trembling. She gripped the container wall for support, her mind reeling.

“Shit… that’s Zucco,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

She blinked hard, forcing herself to steady. “I should’ve protected him,” she said, her voice breaking. “I promised him I would…”

Batman turned to her, his expression serious beneath the cowl. “This isn’t on you,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Zucco knew the risks that came with ratting on Maroni. You couldn’t have stopped this.”

Marie swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. She nodded, but the guilt remained like a weight on her chest.

Before she could respond, a voice echoed through the maze of containers.

“Well, look who’s here,” came Maroni’s mocking tone.

Both Marie and Batman turned, spotting the mob boss stepping into view, flanked by several heavily armed men. Maroni’s expensive suit was immaculate despite the grittiness of the docks, and his smug grin was enough to set Marie’s teeth on edge.

“Batman. Detective Manning. Quite the dynamic duo you’ve become,” he sneered, gesturing to his men. They fanned out, weapons raised but not yet firing. “You’re both loose ends I need to tie up.”

“Stay behind me,” Batman growled to Marie, his voice low and dangerous.

Maroni’s attention briefly flickered to Zucco’s lifeless body. “Poor Tony. Guess he couldn’t keep his mouth shut after all. Shame.” He sighed theatrically.

“What’s your game here, Maroni?” Marie demanded, her voice sharp despite her frayed nerves.

Maroni smirked. “Game? No game, Detective. This is strategy. I’m about to wipe the board clean. When I’m done, Falcone will be dead. His men will be dead. Hell, there won’t be much of anyone left in Gotham’s underworld. Just me.”

The tension in the air was thick, charged with the weight of everything that had led them here. Batman and Maroni stood a few feet apart, their words sharp as knives, each weighing the other's next move.

"You’re planning a war," Batman said, his voice cold and hard, like gravel scraping against stone.

Maroni’s lips curled into a smirk as he spread his arms wide, feigning innocence. "Why dirty my hands? I’ll let both sides kill each other off. Falcone’s been getting soft anyway. It's time for someone with vision to take control."

Before Batman could retort, the sound of a gunshot sliced through the air. Maroni pulled a sleek pistol from his coat, his movement swift, but not swift enough for Batman.

The air was thick with the sounds of grunts and fists colliding with flesh. Batman moved like a storm, his body a blur of precision and power as he tore through Maroni’s men.

One attacker rushed him with a wild swing, but Batman ducked low, fluidly spinning and driving a fist into the man’s ribs. The blow sent the man stumbling back, gasping for air. Another thug lunged, but Batman was already on him, his elbow crashing into the man’s face with a sickening crack.

The fight became a swirling mess of chaos—punches, kicks, and bones snapping under the weight of Batman’s relentless strikes. He moved like he was part of the shadows, effortlessly dodging attacks and dishing out punishing blows in return. His fists hit with the speed of a freight train, each strike landing with calculated force, taking down attacker after attacker.

Marie, just a few paces away, was in her element. Her gun never faltered as she picked off Maroni’s men one by one. The first man came at her with a wild swing, but she fired, the bullet sinking into his arm. He dropped like a stone. Another rushed her from the side, but she was faster—her second shot rang out, catching him in the shoulder, and he fell to the ground.

She fired with precision, each shot deliberate and controlled, aiming to incapacitate rather than kill. Her movements were fluid, her focus unwavering as one by one, the thugs dropped to the ground, clutching arms or legs where her bullets had struck.

She was in sync with Batman—two sides of the same coin, taking down anyone who tried to challenge them.

But then, the chaos hit a brief lull. The few remaining men, realizing the fight was slipping away from them, hesitated for a moment. They looked between each other, trying to regroup, but it was already too late.

Batman took the moment to unleash a flurry of kicks—each one landing with brutal efficiency. He landed one to a man’s jaw that sent him flying, another to the side of an attacker’s head, knocking him out cold.

Marie stood at the edge of the brawl, her breathing steady, her gun raised and ready. But the rest of Maroni’s men had either been incapacitated or were retreating, leaving only the mob boss himself standing amidst the fallen.

As the last of Maroni’s men crumpled to the ground, there was a brief, eerie silence. Batman, chest heaving, surveyed the scene. His eyes were cold, scanning for any more threats.

But as he stepped toward Maroni, ready for the next move, a voice rang out—low, dangerous, and mocking.

"Enough."

Maroni’s gun was now pointed directly at Marie. She froze, her eyes widening.

Batman’s fists were clenched, ready to fight, but his attention snapped to Marie, his body tensing as the cold barrel of Maroni’s gun aimed at her.

Maroni chuckled softly, enjoying the control he held over the situation. "You know, Batman," he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy, "it’s not about the bloodshed. It’s about compassion." He paused, pacing slightly, gun still pointed at Marie.

"The Red Lotus? It’s a symbol of compassion, of rebirth. I’m giving Gotham a second chance. I’m doing what the old guard couldn’t." He raised his hand as if to emphasize the weight of his words. "What I’m doing is necessary. I’m bringing order to the chaos. I’m saving this city from itself."

Batman didn’t move, his body tensed, every muscle coiled in restraint.

He knew any shift, any movement, could leave Marie exposed to Maroni’s gun. The weight of the situation hung in the air, but Batman remained still, calculating the risk with every breath. 

Maroni smirked, his voice dripping with mockery as he aimed the gun, making eye contact with Marie. “I’m sorry to do this, Detective. Really, I am. It’s been fun, you chasing me around like a little bloodhound. I’ve enjoyed it. But all good things must come to an end. Goodbye.”

Maroni’s smile twisted into something cruel. With a swift motion, he pulled the trigger, and shot Marie in cold blood.

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Turning Point

Note 1: I got the idea for this chapter late last night and resisted the urge to work on it then because I was still fleshing it out. Also, I will be ignoring some "canon" information like the Killer Croc file, etc because I didn't care for the canon version. Faceclaim: Ethan Cutkosky as Jason Todd Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader (Sweetie) Warnings: Violence, descriptive child abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, vague reference of disturbing images on a bad guy's laptop. Sweetie as an alternative to Y/N (for those new to the series)

Jason pocketed the key the baker had given him the night before. He'd been scared out of his mind when Batman had shown up. It had been difficult to eat with Batman staring him down, expression entirely unreadable. But the baker had practically dragged the dubbed Demon of Gotham out of the kitchen.

Jason had a talent for moving without being detected. It was a skill he'd been forced to develop early on. So, quietly moving to the doorway the pair had ducked out, Jason began to listen in. They were whispering, clearly not wanting him to hear their conversation. Too late for that.

"He's a kid. I sincerely doubt he's going to kill me if I give him a place to hide out whenever he needs it." The baker had scoffed.

"You can't guarantee that, Sweetie. You don't know anything about him. He broke in. With a crowbar clearly he planned on using it on something." Batman's response made Jason cringe. He never planned on hurting anyone but he hadn't done himself any favors bringing something that could be considered a weapon.

"Pfft, yeah, on my display case! Bruce, I get that you're worried about me. And that's sweet and all. But this kid needs help!" It was at that moment that Jason realized why the baker had looked so familiar. He kicked himself for not remembering sooner. This was Bruce Wayne's newfound love.

But now he knew Bruce Wayne's secret. He took learning Batman's secret identity as his cue to slink back to his seat before his eavesdropping could be discovered. The adults had returned, seemingly unaware of the fact that Jason had overheard crucial information.

After he'd finished eating, the baker, whom he'd later learned to call Sweetie, had handed Jason a pair of keys. They'd explained the copper-colored one was to the bakery and the silver one was to their loft upstairs. They'd told him if he ever got hungry again or just needed a place to hang out for a while, he could let himself in, in a less destructive way, whenever he wanted.

Jason had been confused as to why this complete stranger was so interested in helping him. He'd expected to get hit when he'd been discovered in the bakery. And instead, they'd fed him, given him access to the bakery and their own loft, and had stood up for him to Batman.

He had just slipped out of the bakery for the second time after having been fed yet again by Sweetie and hanging around for what he assumed was long enough for his stepmother and her boyfriend to be passed out before he got home.

Boy was he wrong. As Jason slipped into the run-down apartment and began to silently make his way to his bedroom, his stepmother's boyfriend, Clay, stepped out of the kitchen, right in front of him, with a beer can in hand. Jason froze, hoping Clay wouldn't notice him. Again his hopes were dashed.

Confusion and surprise briefly flashed over Clay's face, followed immediately by anger.

"Where the fuck have you been, you little shit?!" At the man's yelling, Jason took a defensive stance, preparing for Clay's fist to come flying.

Then his stepmother, Sheila, came staggering out of the living room. "S'going on, baby?" She muttered, glazed-over eyes barely registering Jason's presence.

"Your shithead kid finally dragged his ass in! He has no respect for you or me, waiting so long before he finally shows up!" Clay snarled, stepping close enough to Jason to make the boy grimace at his foul breath.

"The fuck have you been?" Sheila demanded, glaring at Jason.

"Nowhere. I-" Jason's attempt at an excuse was interrupted by Clay's fist making contact with his browline, knocking him down to the floor. The blow made it impossible for Jason to register what Clay was yelling at him now. But he could take a guess.

Steeling himself, Jason kicked out at Clay's shin. Knocking the drunken man's leg out from under him. He attempted to scramble backward up the stairs but Clay was on top of him at a surprising speed.

Another punch, this time to his nose, and Jason silently wished it wouldn't be broken later. Followed by Clay's meaty hands wrapping around Jason's neck. Jason lashed out with both his hands and his feet, making contact on numerous occasions. But it was futile. Clay was too amped up on whatever drugs he'd taken to notice any pain now.

Jason could faintly hear Sheila screaming at Clay to let him go, not out of concern for Jason but out of worry that Clay would go to prison for killing him. Jason's vision was getting spotty and he was certain he was either going to die or at least black out and be left on the floor overnight like last time.

Then suddenly Clay's weight and hands were off of him. It became easier to breathe so Jason moved onto his hands and knees and began taking deep gasping breaths. They were a bit painful but Jason didn't care. He could barely make out the sounds of a scuffle behind him but the blood pumping in his ears drowned out most of the commotion.

Finally, once it became less of a chore to breathe and his heart rate, vision, and hearing returned to normal, Jason realized that someone had saved him. He had an inkling of who it was and the sight of his stepmother and her unconscious boyfriend bound a few feet away confirmed it. He heard the sound of laptop keys clacking in the other room. He followed the sound to the living room, where Clay kept his laptop hidden in the locked coffee table drawer.

There was Batman, typing away. Obviously looking for something to gain Clay further charges.

"How did you..." He started, wincing at the scratching in his throat. He rubbed his neck, hoping the swelling would lessen.

"Did you really think I wouldn't keep an eye on you after your little break-in last night?" Batman responded, not even bothering to look at Jason.

Jason watched him for a second, thinking how odd it was that he had the richest man in Gotham sitting on his ratty couch, using his stepmom's asshole boyfriend's laptop. The richest man in Gotham had just saved him. The richest man in Gotham had no idea that Jason knew he was Batman.

For yet another time that night, Jason was proven wrong.

"You seem to like spying on people, Jason." Batman suddenly said, again not looking away from his work on the laptop.

"Not really spying since you're in a common area of my home." If he didn't know any better, Jason could have sworn Batman chuckled at Jason's snark.

"True. But listening in on my conversation with Sweetie last night..." Bruce trailed off and Jason noted that his tone held no anger or hostility, merely amusement. Which just confused the boy even more.

Before Jason could ask or say anything else, Batman suddenly slammed the laptop closed. A sickened look on his face. Clearly, he'd seen something disturbing on Clay's laptop. Which didn't really surprise Jason. Clay would do anything for a quick buck.

Outrage soon washed over Batman's face and Jason remained rooted in place as he watched Batman storm over to Clay. Jason's eyes grew wide as Batman whipped out a red hot ring in the shape of his bat symbol and he couldn't tear his eyes away as the side of Clay's face was branded.

He only looked away when he saw blue and red lights flashing outside the window, growing closer by the second, accompanied by a chorus of sirens. When he turned back around Batman was gone.

But somehow Jason knew it wouldn't be his last encounter with Gotham's guardian.

[acourtofidiots]

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

note: two days (7 & 21) are dark fics. please read the warnings before proceeding

all of these are NSFW, for people over the age of 18 (minors/underage folks, please DNI)

updates will be slow. please be patient with me 🩵

Rhysand [ACOTAR]: Breeding & Creampie

The Darkling [S&B]: Voyeurism & glory hole

Donna Troy [DC]: Object insertion & edging

Wally West [DC]: Sex pollen & mutual masturbation

Void!Stiles [TW]: Knifeplay & bloodplay

Jason Todd [DC]: Toys & Bondage

Stiles/Derek [TW]: Size kink & dubious consent *dark fic*

Conner Kent [DC]: Body worship & biting

Dick Grayson [DC]: Ritual sex & daddy kink

Derek [TW]: Roleplay & collars/leashes

Void!Stiles [TW]: Fucking machines & edging

Dick Grayson [DC]: Size difference & choking

Dick Grayson & Jason Todd [DC]: Threesome & dirty talk

Dick Grayson [DC]: Face fucking & degradation

Roy Harper & Jason Todd [DC]: Window/balcony sex & daddy kink

Jason Todd [DC]: Mirrorrs & formal wear

Birthday choice: Azriel [ACOTAR]

Derek [TW]: Outdoors & dacryphilia

Feyre [ACOTAR]: Begging & oral sex

Dick Grayson [DC]: Bondage & orgasm delay/denial

Jason Todd [DC]: Gunplay & dubious consent *dark fic*

Jason Todd [DC}: Public/semi-public sex & phone sex

Tim Drake [DC]: Clothes on & lap dance

Batfleck [DC]: Hair pulling & biting

Dick Grayson [DC]: Daddy kink & cockwarming

Batfleck [DC]: Overstimulation & formal wear

Jason Todd [DC]: Filming & gunplay

Dawn Granger [DC]: Dom/sub & hair pulling

Jason Todd [DC]: Pain kink & filming

Wally West & Roy Harper: Piercings & titty fucking

Free choice: Morrigan, Feyre, & Amren [ACOTAR]

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Season 2 Finale!

Hi Everyone! So that's the finale of the Main Story of The Phoenix or Batman x Vivian fanfic.

I know that the ending is more angst than the ending of Season 1, but after rewriting it over and over, I think the best ending will always be Batman finding the peace of mind and rest in death---and we all know our Endless Magician, Vivian, will go look for him when her time comes.

I just want to say thank you for those who followed the chapters, for the hearts/likes, the reshares, and the comments.

What to Expect this Season 3?

Though the main story of Bruce and Vivian is over, that doesn't mean their stories from the other Earths or the Elseworlds will also end. For Season 3 we have a couple of story arcs lined up:

Batfleck x OC!Magician

Injustice Batman x OC!Magician (request)

Arkham Knight Batman x OC!Magician (request)

Absolute Batman x OC!Magician

Batman and Daredevil - based on the comic book crossovers

Part 2 of In Another Life | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Reader!Magician (request)

And I've been thinking about publishing the chapters of the main story that I didn't publish because I just didn't feel like it (one of them is actually the detailed scene of In Another Life where the alternate Bruce and Vivian did it in his office.

When Does Season 3 Come Out?

The release of Season 3 chapters might come a lot later than the interval between Season 1 and Season 2. I'm currently juggling 3 jobs now (one of which is my social media management business), so I might not have the time to write bulk chapters as quickly as I did for Season 2.

So, Season 3 might come around the first week of May 2025.

And postings will be twice a week instead of four times a week due to the load I currently have.

In the meantime, this April, I'll be reposting some of my favorite chapters with really short commentaries about it.

Hope that's alright with everyone :)

But that's all. Thanks again for reading this fanfic. This was actually supposed to be an exercise for me to get out of my writer's block and I was surprised when I saw we have almost a hundred chapters here.