#bruce wayne x f!reader

[visionsofmagic]

day 10: bruce wayne [car sex]

࿓ synopsis • bats fucks you in his batmobile to teach you a lesson after you disobey his order.

―❦ nsfw, autonomous driving, one has clothes on one hasn’t, suited!bats, batmobile, markings, car riding, possessiveness, jeaolusy, pet names, swearing, master kink, rude!bats, identity dilemma, inner toughts, spanking, begging, brat taming, clothes full on/off, kissing, ‘is all I guess. • 1.9k • thought comic bats while writing but you can imagine this with any version of batman as you like of course. enjoy the beginning of the second week of kinktober event, hope you will like this week too! [kinktober m.]

“bats – please –“ as the gotham’s city’s night lights pass behind the black windows of the batmobile you’re in, your own voice gets silent by the loud sound of the road, yet, they reach to his ears that are covered with his black batman mask. “it’s too much –“ 

the man under you stays still even when his actions don’t stop – fingering your clit, he seems like he doesn’t care about how you’re sitting on his lap, soaking onto his black bat suit, getting wetter each passing time – having no dress on you makes the situation more sinful, especially when he has his own armored suit on, even the mask is still covering his face and ears – his bat ears is a source of balance for you to hold onto while taking his fingers as if it’s the first time he does this.

you have no idea how this man makes you feel stranger to being fucked by him whenever he has you like this – weak yet so powerful because of the whole situation.

it should’ve been a peaceful night, a simple mission – yet, it turned into something more, and you were the one to blame the moment you began to flirt with one of the guests to distract him. you were doing what he told you to from the other line of the call, giving instructions one by one with the help of the device on your ear. it was going all right until the man got interested in you, buying you drinks, joking around, and asking if you would like to follow him to do upstairs. 

you didn’t yet you had to act close to the man to get rid of him because bats told you to leave his side immediately. your mistake was taking that decision; putting one of your hands on the man’s shoulder, raising on your feet, and whispering something into his ear before leaving. apparently, this made bruce go mad – causing him to give you a lesson that you had to learn right away.

the moment you entered the batmobile, he took you onto his lap, taking all your clothes from one to another, looking darker than ever – hands fast, lips kissing yours so passionately that you believe your lips begin to bleed, the suit remains on as he begins to finger you – he just opens the zipper of his armored pants, leaving his hardened cock visible to your eyes.

wanting to touch him, your hand goes to his cock, yet, it is stopped in mid-air. he doesn’t waste any more seconds, slapping your clit, he adds, “you had to earn it. you will not get it until you beg for it.”

now here you are; already cum for one time, its hints still on your thighs and his pants, however, he doesn’t stop – you know he waits for you to beg – you try not to beg, stubborn, believing you did nothing wrong, but, it’s too much – he knows every point to make you beg – the vigilante know your own body more than you do.

when he hits your g-spot with only his gloved fingers, again and again, you cry out loud, “bruuuce – aggh – please -!” the words go out of your parted lips on their own as your hands grip his bat ears strongly, bouncing on his fingers when he doesn’t move them. the knowledge of making a mess out of you doesn’t reach into your brain, so, you continue fucking his fingers – his dark-colored eyes look up, a smirk position on his attractive masked face, mocking you. “please! I need youu – aggh!”

“pathetic,” he remarks, “bouncing on my fingers as if they’re my dick,” a chuckle breaks the lewd sounds – the outworld out of the batmobile is long forgotten. “want it so much? want me to bend you over, fuck you in this car?”

without thinking, you nod rapidly, eyes half-closed, your second cum drips onto his fingers, high hits the body, feeling a bit exhausted yet ready to take his thick cock now. 

your mind can’t comprehend what he’s doing but in a moment you find him lowering his seat, opening enough gap between your bodies and the batmobile’s front. 

afraid of falling into the surface, you try to hold his shoulders – still can’t believe you fucked yourself on his fingers and cum onto them when he talked dirty. the power – the effect he has on you is incredible! the mind is so dizzy because of him that you realize what he has done after a moment, your widening eyes look at the front mirrors of the car, seeing the road in front of you – the scene changes faster than you think – you swear the car moves like a lightning. 

the reality hits your face similar to the feeling of cold water washing your body over on a hot day. however, you can’t focus on it when bruce’s gloved and wet hands position on your waist, highering your ass up, pulling your body closer to his face.

when you hold onto the wheel to stay still, excitement and shock blurring the last cramps of your mind, fear of going in an extremely fast batmobile makes your blood boil – yet the trust you have for bruce is there, strongly holding you. his low voice reaches your ears after a while, and his hot breaths wash your pussy and ass holes that clench around nothing, making you jump in pure pleasure. “you disappointed me,” he says, “you disobeyed a direct order from me. that man meant nothin’ to me but disobeying – oh – what a bad choice y/n.”

you couldn’t wait any longer, knowing his one step away from licking you, lust takes control of you, and you begin to say how sorry you’re – how you didn’t mean to – both you and bruce know you did mean to, to get his attention, to get this side of him, because you’re a brat of him who he will tame.

“keep your begs for forgiveness for later. you have to prove to me that you’re capable of obeying me, you pretty brat.”

“anything, I will do anything for you bru -!” a slap to the ass, a slap to the pussy – scream escapes from your lips. “bats! just give me an order, will do it – just please – please fuck me already!”

“in that case,” he says, not licking you, making you pout in disappointment but when he lowers down your body, his cock’s tip meets with your aching pussy’s folds, he clicks a button, the engine slows down a little bit, the wheel of the car gets closer to you. “hold the wheel.”

you try to understand what’s going on, “what are you doin – aggh!”

his left-hand grips your neck, holding it tightly, closing the gap between your face and his, he points to the wheel that stands right in front of you. “hold the fucking wheel if you want to be fucked, y/n.”

swearing lowly, your shaking hand finds the wheel, holding it strongly, waiting for bruce to push a button – when he does, the engine starts moving faster than before. unlike the previous situation, this time, it’s you who drives the batmobile.

“bruce – how – “ your words are cut off by his deep voice.

“don’t take your eyes off the road. you will take us to the home without an accident. if you turn even a little bit, I will stop fucking you my love.” the difference in his words and voice make you go crazy, and that craziness doubles up when he lowers your body down enough to make him thrust his thick cock into your pussy, filling you up.

screaming with sudden pain and pleasure, your eyes roll over for a second before looking right at the road in front of you – gotham city still stays under the darkness of the night, the only voice that world excepts is the powerful sound of the batmobile riding on the endless looking road, the moans coming from you and swears from bats mixing with the flesh hitting the flesh can be heard by only you and bruce – the sin you commit cannot be known by another.

the focus you put on the road gets distracted whenever bruce shoves his dick into your wet clit. back of your thighs hitting his clothed thighs sends pain through your body, leaving red marks on your flesh – the balls that meet with your ass cheeks increase the sensitivity you have, making you cry as you clean them rapidly to see the road.

his name comes out of you over and over again, the brain is too occupied to drive, the mind is too crazy to function, and the body is too full of him, the man who wants to devour you, and doing it right now – using your body as he pleases, not moving his hips greatly, instead, he makes use of your body by lifting it up, then, pulling it down until his dick fills your walls deeper, harder and rougher.

“fucking brat,” he says, a poison that his voice holds captures you – you feel so pathetic as if you’re his fucktoy now. then why do you feel so high like the most powerful drug in the whole world gets into your veins with the maximum level, you ask yourself, then the answer travels to your mind after he adds, “can’t obey her master? what a pretty yet mindless girl you are, don’t you think?” oh, right, he’s the most powerful drug on the whole world, and now, you’re at his mercy.

“u-huh – agghh – oh myy – bats! please, please, please –“ you have no idea what you’re pleasing for, but he knows – he chuckles lowly, having fuck great entertainment thanks to you that you feel a kind of pride in an instant.

“u-huh?” he mocks, fucks you still, close to the edge, just waiting for the right moment. “too cockdumbed to even understand what I’m saying. but you do good my good girl, keep going, we’re close to the cave.”

the new information makes you happy, smiling widely, and looking outside clearly, seeing the cave’s entering. with the relief, you begin to drive the car more carefully than before, hands getting stronger, losing yourself in the pleasure of being fucked by bruce in his damn batmobile.

finally reaching your destination, you slow down the engine, the cave’s front door opens, and pushing a button, bruce hugs you from behind, making you sit down on his cock with an instantaneous speed, earning the loudest moan out of you.

the mouth standing beside your ear says, “cum. cum on my cock.” and you who doesn’t know she’s waiting for him to allow her – to order, do what he tells, cum on his cock as his hot semen hit the deep inside of you in sync.

kissing your shoulder, he holds your shaking body because of both the coldness of the cave you have entered and the opposite sense of warmness that bruce gives – the smell of highness on the air, chests getting up and down, breaths rapid and low, lust ends – its place gets completed with the affection of love.

“did so good,” the car’s door opens, bruce takes your body in bridal style after wrapping it with his cape. his gentle lips put kisses on your face as he walks into the bathroom of his room, watching your soft features, eyes closed to sleep. he smiles fondly, proud of you. “let me take care of my pretty girl now.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *lots of kisses!*

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: f!reader | age gap, reader is nineteen | mild exhibitionism | size difference | choking | objectification (f recieving)

BRUCE WAYNE was in the hot seat. Well, more appropriately, Batman was in the hot seat. Which meant it was time for the billionaire playboy to make a public appearance so controversial, any press worth their tacks would cover his televised blunder rather than some depressing masked vigilante’s dealings. People prefer gossip over politics, and Bruce knows how to work an angle.

You’re a fresh adult, but the people already know you. A perfect Gotham sweetheart: a little darling on the front cover of lingerie magazines, starring as a bombshell in motion pictures, named the honor of the Ice Princess last month. You wore your little feathery outfit, next to nothing in the freezing cold, and turned on the city's giant Christmas tree lights just as the Ice Princess does every year. Known for your youth and beauty, Bruce knew you were the perfect candidate to take all the attention away from where it shouldn't be. Tabloids couldn't decide whether to praise the seasoned billionaire for landing a nineteen-year-old catch, or condemn him for having a mid-life crisis.

"Bruce Wayne seen with Gotham's Ice Princess." was everywhere anyone looked. It seemed the city had taken quite a protective role over you, which is exactly what Bruce needed.

Now that he's got you, he flaunts you. He lets you lug him around town, any local events that could be televised are his priorities. There, he makes a big show of touching you in ways only a lover is allowed to. Things that make you pat his huge bicep scoldingly. "Brucie!" you chide with a gasp, "You're so shameless." you say, but you fucking love it. How he openly mouths at your neck, lapping and sucking on your pulse point enough for lewd pretty sounds to slew from your parted lips. Little whimpers that any onlookers eat up.

He'll grope you unabashedly, big hand grabbing at your ass or giving it a swat. He needs those cameras to see how gross he is, how crazy he is about his nineteen-year-old situationship. If you get kissed, it's fucking sloppy. Mostly tongue, tongue outside the mouth as much as he can appropriately get away with. His "dirty sense of humor" will bleed into the public scene as well, hugging you from behind only to jokingly engulf your neck with his hand to fake a choke.

Every single one of these things he does for attention, leaves you hot and bothered. Frustrated from his treatment of you that's so warm when there are prying eyes, but so cold when you're finally alone together. You want Bruce Wayne to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you, but when doors are closed suddenly it's: "Something's come up." or "The sushi hit me wrong." Or the worst one of all: the polite, civilized, but uninterested act. You're all over him, begging for him to finally fuck you after stringing you along and teasing you so ardently all day, and he treats you as if you are an acquainted business associate who has overstayed her welcome. You don't get it. An hour ago he was pulling your neckline towards him for a peek down your dress, and now he's showing you the door with a smile on his face.

[reveluving]

see you soon ; jason todd x batmom reader (ft bruce wayne)

includes: jason's beloved dubbed 'princesa' (can read it as her and/or jason being latina/latino or spanish being jason's 1st/2nd language!) & tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: combining @xoxokirby's jason todd x princesa with my batmom AU in this quick, cute thought because I just love talking about them together 💗

check out my batmom m.list <3

"Alright, so here's the hot chocolate," You carefully passed Jason the heavy double-cup holder, "And in here is your Philly cheesesteak, some soups and your girl's panini sandwich. And I threw in some brownie pudding in there since we had extra. Make sure you don't heat it up beyond forty-five seconds. You're lucky you texted me just as dinner rush started."

While waiting for Jason to come and pick up the orders he had requested you just hours ago, you closed down the necessary so you could head home with Bruce straight away once he finishes his work in the office. Not once had Jason stopped offering on taking you back to the manor first before heading back to his girlfriend at his apartment, but you insisted otherwise.

And how could he say no to his mother?

"Yeah, that's on me," Your son smiled sheepishly, holding the bags of food and drinks with ease, "Y'sure we don't gotta pay up?"

"What makes you think I'm making my own kids pay for food at my café all of a sudden?" You rested your hands on your hips, brows raised as if he had asked the dumbest question ever.

"'m just askin', y'don't have to be so mad. Sheesh," He shrugged, only to dodge your playful smack with a laugh, "Kiddin', kiddin'."

But the big smile on his face remained.

A lot of things make him smile, be it from you, his siblings, Bruce at times or his beloved, but he just couldn't help replaying how you considered his girl one of 'your kids', as if, like him, you just knew she was the one.

"Be sure to tell her about the family dinner that we're having in two weeks." You reminded him, slipping on your gloves before turning off most of the lights. It would be her first dinner with the Waynes, and you wanted nothing more than to have her as a part of your family’s cheesy traditions.

"I will," He nodded, and just as you wondered about the extra joy he was radiating, he hugged you with one arm—the one that was holding the bag of food, "Thanks, ma."

"Oh, Jay," You chuckled, returning the hug with a few pats in his back, "I'm just looking out for my kids."

Just then, you and Jason heard the sound of engine approaching, and lo and behold, the familiar black Aston Martin came into view.

"That's our cue. C'mon," You playfully pushed him from the back, drawing a worried 'ma!', afraid he might drop the food. You just responded to his pout with a cheeky smile before exiting the café, with him waiting for you to lock the door. Winter came in early in Gotham, and the citizens took the opportunity to decorate the city in ways that seemed so... familial.

You opened the passenger door, "Hey." You lit up as Bruce leaned in, his warm lips tickled your cold cheek.

"Sorry I'm late. Tried to finish up some of the last reports before the holidays."

You reassured him, shaking your head as you did, "You're not, I promise. Plus, Jay waited with me."

Bruce looked over at your door, where Jason stood, "Thanks, Jason. Head home safely and don't forget about the dinner, alright?"

"I won't," He nodded curtly as he walked backwards, heading to the alley where he parked his bike, "I'll text y'when I reach home."

"Say hi to princesa for us!" You grinned, waving as you watched your son disappear into the back of the store. You closed the door, turning to Bruce and officially greeting him with a quick but nonetheless sweet kiss, "Hi, you."

"Hi yourself," He sighed in content, leaning in for another kiss as he held the steering wheel, "Shall we?"

"Of course." You replied, and just as your seatbelt clicked into place, Jason drove past you, but not before waving at you and Bruce as he did.

With the end of the year around the corner, you were tired, and so was Bruce. Jason was no different and he didn't doubt that his girl was beat, too.

But it was impossible to suppress the smiles on your faces, knowing that none of you will end the day by your lonesome.

Just a hot drink in hand, a comfy bed to cuddle up in, and your other half to hold onto.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[moonlight-prose]

BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

➛ 03. WICKED NIGHTS

a/n: honestly i didn't expect to take a year to ever post about this fic again. if i'm being honest i figured this would become an abandoned series. solely cause the inspo for this character completely left my head. but i couldn't let go of our reporter and their love story with this bat. so while the updates may take time, i'm ready to keep going with this. enjoy.

summary: halloween was always been your least favorite night of the year, but circumstances make it so much worse.

word count: 8.2k+

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, fluff, awkward beginnings, a small bit of romance, murder, death, crime scenes, grief, gratuitous prose about the darkness of gotham.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Halloween. Your least favorite night of the year.

The city streets were crowded with people; a sight not unusual to the dark pit that Gotham transformed into. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. Even getting to work was a struggle due to the overcrowded platform of the subway and the scarcity of cabs. If you had your way you’d wish everyone would suddenly vanish—giving you a chance to find some reprieve before the onslaught of darkness that plagued this night every year. Although you were foolish enough to hold out hope. Foolish enough to believe that things would be different; that nothing wicked would befall this night.

If only you’d known.

Work was filled with people milling about, some in costumes, some not. You wore your usual black coat—a pair of boots accompanying your look. If someone were to ask you’d claim you were dressed as you were every other day of the year—as a reporter working yourself to the bone. It would be sure to get a laugh from a person or two in this office.

It always did in the end.

Only this time…you weren’t laughing.

The interview you had with Bruce Wayne yesterday continued to bounce around in your mind; the thought of how to write it, still missing. You didn’t want to sound like every other magazine that sprouted nothing but gossip. There’s a reason why you chose to work at the Gotham Gazette. So you could get into the nitty and gritty of the story—no matter how dark it got in the end. To you this was either a story people would talk about forever, or it would remain a forgotten piece that would later wind up in people’s trash cans come morning the next day.

“Day.” Henry leaned against the doorway of his office. A pencil behind his ear, his glasses propped on the end of his nose, and a cup of crappy coffee in his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

You hoped you would have at least five minutes of time to breathe before you were called into what you liked to claim was the equivalent of the principal’s office. But it seemed that Henry Goldfinch decided to pick on you this week more than anyone else.

The interview notes you’d jotted down during the night were crammed into your small black notebook—nearly burning a hole in your pocket. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d ask you about them; intent on seeing a full story by tomorrow night.

“Look Henry I did the best I could with the guy, but he barely even spoke—” You were cut off at the look on his face. “Am I in trouble?”

“I just got a call from Mr. Pennyworth.”

Shit, you were so fired.

“If he wants to retract any statements then I’ll work with what I've got, but you were the one who gave me this story and I think I can do a damn good job on it.”

“Would you let me talk?” Your jaw snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of your ramble; or what you’d like to call reasons why he shouldn’t fire you. “Don’t unpack your things.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently you caught Mr. Wayne’s eye,” he said, settling down in his seat. “That call was Mr. Pennyworth giving me notice that Bruce Wayne is heading down to The Gotham Gazette today.”

“What?” you exclaimed, nearly falling into the chair behind you. “What the fuck for?”

“He wants to take you to lunch, kid.”

You fell into the chair, staring wide eyed at Henry who regarded you with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne wanted to take you to lunch. He was coming to your work in order to…pick you up.

Any way you tried to string it together, the news still remained hard to comprehend. Still you caught on to Henry’s words from before. You’d caught Bruce Wayne’s eye and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences of that. This would be the first time in years since he’d left Wayne Tower to do something as mundane as go to lunch. Let alone with someone like you.

“What do I do?” you croaked, trying not to panic as the reporter in you attempted to take over. Was this only a social call? Or did he want to do a follow up interview?

Henry leaned forward, the damned smirk still on his face. “You go to lunch with him. Maybe he likes you.”

“Likes me,” you scoffed. “I’d no sooner learn the identity of The Batman before Bruce Wayne admitted to liking me.”

You wanted answers like any sane person would, but the idea that Bruce Wayne possibly liked you left words unavailable to you. That was the farthest thing from the truth, except coming up with some other alternative left you with nothing yet again. What the fuck were you being called to lunch for? You hoped it was just him personally asking you to rip up the notes you took from yesterday while he watched.

“They’ll be here soon. I’d get your ass moving.”

“Right.” You stood slowly, a feeling of unease spreading through you with every step towards the door. “Did—um—Mr. Pennyworth…did he sound upset?”

Henry scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit if you pissed people off Day.”

You felt the switch flip in your mind. A reminder of who you truly were on the inside coming back like lightning cracking across your body, and you stood taller in your place. You didn’t care. You never had.

“I don’t.”

“Atta girl.” He tipped his cup slightly your way, watching as you walked back out into the office—the straight set of your spine once again returning.

You didn’t come to Gotham to make friends. You came here to work, to build a career that would outlast you if you were determined enough. Pissing off Bruce Wayne had never been on your list, but you figured it was bound to happen eventually. It was either now or later in life. Thankfully everyone had their hands full worrying about The Batman and the election—so you pissing off the Prince of Gotham would go unnoticed.

Grabbing your bag, you did a quick sweep of your desk to make sure that everything was accounted for before you left. You weren’t sure how long this lunch would take, but you didn’t intend to come back later.

The elevator doors opened once again with a loud creak, thankfully revealing it to be empty. Your heart thrummed in your chest a mile a minute, the tension still in your shoulders as you walked towards what might be the end of your career. While you knew the possibility of this simply being a social call was high, you couldn’t ignore what might very well happen. The ding of your stop brought you out of your daze enough to get out and head towards the front doors.

Glancing up towards the sky you saw the gloominess still remained—a reminder of where you were, what this city was reduced to. While you may have called it pollution of the environment, others would call it weather. After all there was always a difference in opinion when the opinion came a bit too close to the actual truth.

A sleek black car sat directly outside of the doors, a man in a black coat was hunched beneath an umbrella leaning against its side. You recognized him the second he raised his head, his blue eyes practically singeing your skin. Henry really wasn’t kidding when he said Bruce Wayne himself was coming to pick you up from the Gazette. People stopped and stared at the spectacle that was this man. By all means he was considered a hermit from the rumors that spread through Gotham like poison, and yet there he was, meeting with an unknown woman—a reporter nonetheless.

“You don’t seem like the lunch date type of man,” you said, standing far enough under the awning of the building where you didn’t get wet from the rain, but still felt it splatter against your coat.

His lips twitched, eyes skimming your figure before flicking up back to your face. You wanted to ignore the flutter in your chest from that simple gesture, but your body wouldn’t let you. It seemed that whoever Bruce Wayne was…he had an affect on you—a hold that refused to be severed.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

Scoffing, you turned to glare at a man who stood only a few feet away, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“So you aren’t here to have lunch with me. You’re simply here by the orders of Mr. Pennyworth,” you retorted.

“Alfred,” he said, finally standing to his full height for the first time since you met him. He was taller than you actually anticipated. “He thought it would be a good idea.”

“He thought going on a date with a reporter was a good idea?”

He shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders made the movement awkward. “Would you call this a date Miss…”

“Day.”

“Day,” he repeated quietly, his lips forming around the word as if it was already familiar to him. “Interesting name.”

“Nick-name,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, his gaze so intense you found you had to keep looking away. “Your real name isn’t printed on any of your bylines.”

You smiled albeit rather ruefully as you stepped close enough to be underneath his umbrella with him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my real name Mr. Wayne.”

Again you watched—entranced—as his lips twitched slightly. Almost like he wanted to smile, but forgot how exactly to do it. He’d been in pain so long, suffering the grief of losing those he loved most for nearly his entire life, and not once had he learned what the true meaning of happiness was. For some unknown reason, you wanted to be the first one to show him.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning towards the passenger seat door and opening it for you. “And it’s Bruce.”

The words were accompanied with an outstretched hand to help you into the car, his hold simultaneously gentle yet firm as you sat. Your eyes met his briefly, something flickering to life between your gaze, before the door shut entirely and you were left in silence for a few brief seconds. It gave you enough time to catch what little breath you had in your chest—the interaction far too electric for someone like you.

Get some fucking sense.

You weren’t the type of person Bruce Wayne would fall for. One day he would find someone as wealthy as him, someone who knew his life due to shared experience. You hated those fucking words with a burning passion. Shared experience with people never went over well in your line of work. For a reporter, shared experience meant you had nothing original to say. It meant that you were the same as everyone else around you and to you that was damnation itself.

“Where would you like to eat?”

The question was barely loud enough for you to hear over the traffic and rain, but his soft tone caught you in its hold until you were solely focused on him. Once again that unfamiliar spark of energy crackled in the air. You were afraid that if this continued, you’d walk out of this lunch date with a newfound crush on Gotham’s Prince. That thought alone was enough for you to tear your gaze away—settling in the seat and staring through the front window.

“You invited me, Mr. Wayne. Why don’t you pick?”

He fell silent, hands shifting from his lap to the steering wheel and back again. “I don’t know many places to eat around Gotham anymore.”

Of course Bruce Wayne of all people would eat at home day in and day out. Thus was the luxury of having a personal chef in the Wayne Tower. Although you couldn’t stop the small grin from forming at how funny you found all of this.

Going to lunch with this man. It should have been absurd—almost laughable—but there you were. About to tell him to drive into the heart of the city just to take you to your favorite diner. Reporters would murder you just to stand in your spot. To spend mere moments with him. Yet it seemed that all you had to do was exist.

Rather than dwell on the moment any longer, you told him where to take you and it seemed that he knew the city a lot better than you expected. Pulling out of the spot with ease, he swiftly swung the car around in a rather illegal u-turn before making a quick right turn. You had to hand it to him…he knew how to handle a car. Part of you wanted to call it sexy, but you killed that echo in your head before it could manifest into something else.

Feelings were dangerous in your line of work—having seen the pain several reporters went through when they fell into bed with lethal people. You wouldn’t wind up like them. All you could allow in your life was friendship, nothing more. A friendship with Bruce Wayne wouldn’t hurt you. Not when he refrained from speaking to anyone, let alone the worst of the worst that roamed Gotham.

He turned another corner, the rain getting worse the further you traveled into the city. Driving in this weather would have stopped you from going, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He took it in stride, focusing intently on the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting between you. It would be so easy to pick it up, to run your fingers over the lines in his palm. And for a moment you indulged. You imagined what being with him would actually feel like.

Would he treat you the same way? Or would you suddenly become special. You couldn’t picture him treating anyone in a loving manner, let alone you and that’s where the fantasy died.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing to the flickering sign out front that only read DEM as opposed to its usual bright DEMETER’S TABLE name.

“Is it closed?”

You laughed, barely a puff of air, but you knew he heard it. Opening the door you ignored the downpour that threatened to soak you down to your very soul, and patiently waited until he got out himself. The expression on his face caught you slightly off guard as you watched him get out. You would have figured it was nothing—having seen him wear a grim expression all throughout your interview with him—but this looked different.

“I know it’s not the best place, but the food is—”

“I could have opened the door for you.”

That killed the worry filling your chest in an instant. He wasn’t upset that you brought him to what looked like the shittiest diner in all of Gotham. In fact, he could care less about that. He wanted to open the door for you…like a gentleman.

You nearly laughed in his face, but the rain was starting to seep into your shoes, causing your whole body to shiver and he fared no better. It caused his hair to stick to his face, the coat doing absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

The sign from the diner cast a luminescent glow across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones. You found yourself wanting to brush your lips across them. Though it was daytime and the sun remained stuck behind the clouds somewhere, you still felt as if night encased you in its cold embrace. Yet standing there with him in the rain, keeping his stare, you felt warmth flicker in your chest. As if he had placed a piece of the sun in your heart.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” you said softly, turning away before you grew too attached to this odd man.

The bell above the door rang throughout the building, alerting her of your presence. Your friend Dem stood behind the counter, her graying black hair wrapped up in a loose bun—a pen going directly through it to hold it in place. She looked up at the sound, a broad smile pulling at her wrinkled cheeks and bringing to light the soft lines around her eyes. When you first moved to Gotham she was the person who practically took you under her wing.

“Day! You are soaked hun. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.” She walked around the counter, immediately handing you a hot steaming cup of coffee. “Especially not since you just got over pneumonia. What are you trying to do, kill your…”

She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as the bell rang again and Bruce entered behind you, looking worse than you did. You knew the shock she was feeling, having gone through it about thirty minutes ago yourself, and did your best to drag her back to the present.

“Got a free table?” you joked, knowing the diner was practically empty.

That seemed to do it. The smile—though hesitant this time around—was back as she gestured to the second booth by the door. “I’ll be right with you sweetie.”

“Thanks Dem.”

You slid into the old brown booth, feeling your clothes stick to the fake leather. “Here.” You pushed the mug of coffee his way. “It’ll help with the cold.”

“I’m okay.” He reached up to push it back, but you held it in its place.

“I’m not asking Wayne.” Smiling, you leaned back. “Besides…can’t have one of the most important people in Gotham getting sick on my watch. I’d definitely be fired for that.”

Without another word, he lifted the mug to his lips, placing them directly where yours were mere moments ago. The spark flared to life again, cracking like a familiar bolt of lightning through your body and burning you to the core. Looking away, you clasped your hands together in an effort to seal in any heat that might try to escape your body. You weren’t sure if you liked the feelings that were causing your body to go haywire. For all you knew, you could have been imagining this entire thing.

You wouldn’t put it past your mind to play tricks on you as you sat across from him.

“Why this place?” Once again, his question caught you off guard.

“What?”

He set the mug down, pushing it your way. “Why this diner?”

His blue eyes were fixed on your face, as if attempting to see past the shield you wore day in and day out. When a person suffered enough pain to last an entire lifetime, they tended to become closed off. You were that person and from what you could see…so was he. The temptation to ask him how he survived through the pain, how he managed to come out of it at the end somewhat of a person, was on the tip of your tongue.

But you figured it was better to stay silent—keep it to yourself until the right moment came up.

“It was the first place I came to when I first moved to Gotham. I used to live a block away from here.” Sipping on the coffee, you tried to busy yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. “Though, I had to move because my apartment got broken into while I was sleeping.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? No…something else.

Clearing your throat, you continued in the hopes of appeasing your now racing heart. “Anyways. Dem took me in, she took care of me and it felt nice. So I stayed.”

Before he could reply, Dem arrived with two plates in her hands. You smelled the burger before she even placed it on the table—your stomach clenching with hunger. Her specialty that you first ordered when you came here. It made your heart warm seeing her place it in front of Bruce, her smile kind and welcoming. No matter who he was, Dem always saw the good in people. Saw what they needed and willingly gave it to them without question.

She was a mother to the strangers that wandered into her diner.

“More coffee?” she asked, staring at the single mug that sat empty in the center of the table.

You noticed she didn’t ask if you’d like a second cup, her body language telling you enough. She thought this was a date. You weren’t sure if you should correct her or not.

“Please,” Bruce said, interrupting your thoughts. He handed her the mug, never asking for an extra one, but seemingly happy to share with you.

Once again your heart fluttered and this time…you let it.

“Dem’s burgers are possibly the best thing to be created.”

His lips pulled up in a small barely there grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” you replied, smiling around a bite of your fry. “As a reporter all I have is my word.”

You didn’t catch the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with something that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Instead you focused on gazing out the window at the rain. The way it transformed the city into something dangerous. Yet even through the darkness you could see it. The small hints of the light seeping through the clouds and shining down on an otherwise grim place.

Carole King played on the old speakers—a favorite of Dem’s you learned early on—and it created a soft symphony of warmth as it mixed with the rain. You wanted to stay there forever. In a place of comfort and love.

You’d even include Bruce in it too.

He bit into the burger, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the taste burst across his tongue. The sight caused your heart to lurch in your chest, warmth spreading up your neck and into your face. And you tried your best to shove it down. How ridiculous of you to find the sight hot, but there you were. Speechless, watching as he enjoyed one of your favorite meals.

Dem’s voice humming to the song snapped you out of your ogling; you looked to her to find something else to focus on. Except the small knowing smile she wore on her face and the wink she threw your way did nothing to help your situation. Rather than dwell on it, you began to eat. Content to remain silent until the both of you finished.

The singular cup of coffee was set down in between you two, dragging your gazes back to one another. You glanced at the mug, then back at him. As if that was the defining factor of whether or not this was a date. He chewed thoughtfully on a fry, his eyes still on you, while you mulled over whether or not you could magically turn the one mug into two.

It turned out to be an impossible feat, but one you found you didn’t mind.

“So tell me—” You pried your trench coat off, draping it over the back of the booth. He’d discarded his thirty minutes ago, his black button down now rolled to his elbows. “What’s Bruce Wayne been up to?”

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “This isn’t a second interview is it?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten enough for my article already. This is me asking.”

“Hm.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together and hair falling back into his eyes. “And who are you exactly?”

The smile you’d been fighting for an hour came through. “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

The coffee mug had been refilled three times now, your energy coupled with the spark of attraction (you were still denying) between you brought life back into your body. While he didn’t disclose much about himself—saying bits and pieces here and there—you still found yourself engrossed in his words. You wanted to know more, to see the man behind the mask that was Bruce Wayne.

Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d show you his true self one day. For right now you were content to remain just as you were.

A reporter who shied away from any aspects of love, sitting with a man who was discovering what the meaning of joy was all over again.

“I can wait,” he murmured, his eyes no longer resembling the cloudy skies outside. You could see the lightness in them—the shining blue unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You glanced down at the mug, seeing something in it you hadn’t before. For whatever unknown reason Bruce Wayne—the man who had been reclusive his entire life—trusted you. Even though he didn’t say it outright he didn’t have to. You saw it well enough and something told you…he knew you could see it. He wanted you to see it.

Time was slowly ticking away, reminding you that you had a job to get back to, but you still remained. Sitting with your elbows pressed to the table—unconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. Maybe if you never left the world would melt away. If you became a permanent part of this diner, the city that happily ate away at every resident would leave you be. You’d be forgotten in a place that thrived on the lost and forlorn.

“Why me?” you inquired after the beat of silence threatened to swallow you whole.

The soft lilting notes of Billie Holiday echoed in the empty diner. Dem was nowhere to be found and the only two remaining customers were you and Bruce. Still sharing that singular cup of cold coffee. It had created a ring on the table, your lipstick a slight stain on the white mug. The color smudged off from where Bruce had placed his lips. Sharing a hint of a kiss that would never be.

He leaned back in the booth, no longer stiff—the nature of a man who had hid from society for years now traded in for someone different. His body language was enough to make you stare. Transfixed on the way his shirt continued to hug his figure even though it had dried an hour ago.

“Why not you?”

You huffed. “Answering my question with another question. And here I thought I was the only reporter in the room.”

“I’ve had my fair share of interviews.”

“None that I’ve read.” You slid your plate to the side and clasped your hands together in the hopes of looking as intrigued as you felt. “Do tell Mr. Wayne.”

The tension was beginning to set in his shoulders again. A small overlay to the man that lingered beneath. As if he was bringing up a mask he constantly carried with him. He hid constantly day in and day out, but right now he didn’t sit before you the Prince of Gotham, but instead a man who was trying to relearn how to live. Whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not…Bruce Wayne was like you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

“Alfred keeps them from printing.” The admission alone was enough for you to change the subject, but he continued to talk—cracking open yet another small sliver to the impenetrable armor he wore. “People they don’t…they always look for something wrong.”

You nodded, digging your nail into your palm. “Flaws are sometimes easier to sell.”

The sad truth of being a journalist is more often than not people weren’t looking for the truth. At least not in Gotham. They wanted something to sell. A piece of the person that one would deem too vulnerable to be shown to the rest of the world. They wanted to satiate the greed that clawed its way to the front. Rarely was the truth their only reason for writing a story.

“You’re not interested in flaws.” His eyes grew softer, hand splaying on the table to trace a random shape as he watched you. Saw through the facade you wore. He dug right down to the depths of your persona and dragged it to the surface—a relenting and brutal act.

Yet you wanted it to happen all the same.

“I like the truth.” You distracted yourself with the shape of his finger, the length of it as it shifted. “It sounds better.”

For a split second you allowed your eyes to flicker up, to meet his in the dim lights of the diner, and you finally caught hold of that niggling emotion. The one that held you captive in your own right. You liked him. Despite only meeting him yesterday, you found yourself drawn in by his haunted eyes. The same ones that practically burned a hole in your skin, until he was forever a part of your form.

Bruce Wayne felt familiar to you.

Not in the way that a stranger finds a face in the crowd familiar. Not even in the way an old friend would feel seeing someone from their past once more.

He was familiar in the way two souls separated beyond time and space were familiar. You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow you knew these eyes that traced the lines and curves of your face. Committing you to memory. You were two distant beings made up of different particles of the universe. Yet there in that diner you found one another—as if gravity had dragged your cells together all along.

Two halves of a celestial being finally forming to be one.

You almost wanted to laugh at the notion that Bruce Wayne and you had anything in common. Let alone that there was any physical attraction between you.

But there it was. The truth you’d been searching for all along.

You could almost laugh at how fucked it all was.

How horrifically beautiful.

Night was beginning to settle over the city, calling to the horrors that lingered in the shadows. Prompting them to finally emerge for the one night where fear ran rampant in the streets of Gotham. Being scared on Halloween wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this year things felt different. You could practically taste the blood that would run through the grime filled streets come morning. The same one that you would later have to report on.

Bruce stood beside his car next to your apartment building. You had directed him here after another hour spent in Dem’s diner barely speaking yet saying more than you would have liked. For some reason he was able to unearth more about you than you had found out in the entirety of yesterday’s interview with him. If being a Wayne didn’t wind up working out for him, he’d make a killing out of being an investigative journalist.

You told him as much before you left.

“Got any plans for tonight?” you asked, already knowing the answer you’d receive.

He looked up to the slightly darkened sky, at the way that the clouds did nothing to allow even slivers of the sunset to break through. You had to hand it to the city. There was some irony in the way even nature plagued the city in darkness. As if its legacy was always meant to be this. An abyss that drowned everyone within.

A barely there quirk appeared on his lips. “I’ll be out of the city tonight.”

Convenient.

The thought crossed your mind of asking him to join you for a lonesome dinner and half a bottle of wine. But the line had been drawn in the sand long before you agreed to accompany him for lunch. An invisible border you couldn’t cross. He was a Wayne. A part of a world you could only reach through second hand stories and gruesome aftermaths.

If the lunch had been more than strangers sitting across from one another, you would have joked about your house being Capulet and his Montague. But something told you irony wasn’t his strong suit. Nor would it favor you being able to see him another time. That is…if he even wanted to see you. For all you could tell this was merely a social call placed on his shoulders by Alfred—the man you came to see as Bruce’s father figure.

“Well…”

“Would you—”

You smiled, feigning being professional for the sake of your giddiness. “You go first.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you be available in a few days?”

“Oh…” Rather than take it easy on him, you decided that the best course of action was to jab at his wall just a bit. Just to see if something would crumble even further. So with a smile you stepped closer, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a bit more. “That doesn’t sound like Alfred speaking.”

A heavy breath left his lungs—washing warm across your skin. “It’s not.”

“So this is you asking?”

He nodded, probably irritated with the way you were clearly teasing him. But that’s the thing. He let you tease him. He gave in to your small ruse and let it play out until you felt like you were finished.

If you could get away with this, who knows what else you’d be able to get away with. Perhaps calling him a stupid nickname. Or even getting to know his favorite color.

Something told you it was brown.

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows rose, mouth parted slightly as if you’d thrown him for a bigger loop than anyone had before. And much to your own surprise…he answered. Honestly.

“Black.”

Ah…you were close.

“Tuesday. The rush of Halloween will be over and my paper should give me some free reign. I’ll be available then.”

Another solemn nod as if you just informed him that you were attending a funeral for a recently departed loved one. You learned to realize that his nods were simply a part of his personality. Eventually you would be able to decipher what each one meant, what they were attempting to say without using words. His voice seemed to be an afterthought—actions speaking louder than words could say.

“Tuesday it is,” he replied with a soft hesitant smile. You wanted to see it again, ask him to never frown again, but this was merely a fleeting moment in the grand expanse of things.

He stood there for a minute more as if leaving was the last thing he wanted. Then got into his car, turned the engine once, and drove down the street. And you watched him disappear into the already dark horizon. The day never existed to begin with, but the storm wouldn’t stop the chaos of the night. So you gave one last glance to the street before heading inside, ready to hole yourself in your locked apartment til sunrise the next day.

The shrill ringing of your cell phone startled you from your small nap on the couch. A throw blanket that was a mishmash of colors was thrown over your body, a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and the book Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde face down beside it. Ever since finding it in the Wayne tower, you began to look through the old text. With the silly hope that you would find pieces of Bruce Wayne in the words.

“What?” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your face to rouse yourself from the groggy state of sleep. Your brain was sluggish, body content to remain on the couch for many more hours, but Henry’s grim voice startled you awake.

“The Mayor’s dead.”

You sat up. “What the fuck do you mean the Mayor’s dead Henry?”

A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearing the middle of the night. The noise outside still persisted though. People always partied the worst on this night. Especially in this city.

“If this is a joke—”

“Shut up and listen will you.” Your mouth clamped shut, eyes falling to the book. “They found him in his home. And it’s gruesome. Whoever did it was a right fucked up person, but I can’t get there at this time. The streets are too packed.”

The breath caught in your throat, even as your eyes stung with exhaustion. “And I’m closer to the scene.”

“It’s a favor and it’s a big one Day.”

You sighed. “I’ll leave in ten. Who’s on the scene?”

“Gordon.”

Good. Gordon never gave you shit for being a reporter like the other detectives did. Many wanted your kind out of Gotham all together simply because of how good you were at getting your nose into places it shouldn’t be. With Gordon there at least you would have a chance to do some meaningful reporting—or at least help where you could in figuring this out.

Henry listed out a few details they told him, what was going to occur within the next few days. But all you could think about was Bruce. You’d miss your chance to see him Tuesday after all. Too stuck in the midst of a city wide crime scene that would take up more or less all of your time. Which left him on the outs. You scribbled down in your black notebook a note to call him and ask for a rain check.

At least then one good thing in your life wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

You grabbed your coat, shoved your arms in the sleeves, and locked up your apartment as the weight of the news rested heavy on your shoulders.

With the death of the Mayor came an investigation. One that would no doubt lead to more bloodshed in the streets and leave a city divided amongst itself. You had heard about shit like this happening in Gotham, but you were never around to see it yourself. Yet there you were. Right in the thick of it with no other option but to see the chaos through.

People filled the streets. Some drunk, some not. Which didn’t make getting to the scene easier. You fought through the crowds, managed to catch a train down there, and somehow came out unscathed. And above in the night sky…his sign hung like a full moon. It called out to the chaos of the night, and made a promise to those who liked the cover of darkness that they would only be safe for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, feeling the rain strike against your cheek. It stung as you crossed the street.

Police cars lined the sidewalk, sirens blaring and bright, and for a moment…there was light in Gotham. You could barely see in front of you, but at least they illuminated the pathway to the front entrance. Many of them were taping off the building, others standing around and gazing at the sky—probably asking themselves if he would show up.

“If it ain’t Miss Day!”

You felt the weight lighten as you reached the top of the building steps. “Officer Martinez. Funny seeing you here.”

“You come to talk to me tonight?”

The smile was involuntary on your lips as he let you head in with him, holding the door open for you. Martinez always had a soft spot for you when things like this befell the city. After all he was usually around when it came to Gordon and with a job like yours, you ran into cops a bit too often for your liking. But Martinez was the exception. He brought you coffee on long nights at crime scenes, cracked jokes at the worst times, and even drove you home if he was around.

“Of course,” you said with a grin, bumping his shoulder. “I’m here to write a piece about the greatest cop in the city.”

He scoffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere chica.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Another flight of steps revealed even more cops scattered around the place. You could see the flash of a camera in the distance, whispered voices filling the air as you entered. Several cops gave you nasty glances, scoffing to themselves at the fact that you were allowed to enter. A reporter. Someone beneath them. To them you were the vulture that came to pick apart the mess they were left to clean.

“All I know is what Gordon told me. And even that’s not much.”

“Where is Gordon?”

Martinez shrugged. “Went out to fetch someone. Figure another detective.”

One more step into the room and you felt it. The pressure in your chest, the pinch of pain in your side where you were still healing. As if crime in Gotham called to crime. A horrid likeness that permeated the air. When Henry said the scene was gruesome he wasn’t kidding. You were ready to bolt the second you could smell the blood—the sight nearly too much for your stomach to take.

“Fuck,” you murmured, eyes wide and body wracked with fear.

“It’s not easy to see.”

“He’s…oh fuck.”

You didn’t need words to know Martinez was concerned about you. His eyes told you enough. They lingered a bit too long, tried to see past your mask you quickly pulled up when it came to scenes such as this. If you were lucky you would make it out tonight without any nightmares.

You were rarely lucky.

Someone called his name, causing him to leave you alone in the room with a few other people. Yet all you could focus on was the Mayor. The message scrawled across his head screamed so loud you could practically hear the voice of the killer. It punched right through your chest, made you pay attention without any barriers. Without mercy.

“What the fuck?”

You turned when someone’s voice filtered through the air, disbelief clear in their tone. Perhaps they found something worse. Something that would make you want to unsee everything that happened tonight. But what came to your attention was not what you expected. Your heart dropped to your stomach, a flutter going through your body, as the sight of him filled your view once more.

For some reason he seemed bigger in the room. He towered over everyone here, eyes still striking against the dark color of his suit. For a moment you couldn’t breathe, nerves filling your body with each heavy thump of his boot against the hardwood floor. How he would react to seeing you again took over your mind. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…he forgot about you.

Maybe to him you were just another lost soul in a sea of tragedy.

Someone he saved once and didn’t think twice about second.

He stopped midstep, gaze falling to your form, and for a split second…he stiffened entirely. Recognition flashed in his eyes before something darker took its place. You were reminded of the night he dragged you home, the night he held you as you cried about death. As you begged him to keep you alive.

You wondered if he was thinking about that too. If you stepped close enough maybe you could see it in his eyes. Fragments of a memory that still burned bright and alive in your mind—a bad movie you could never turn off. So there you sat in the theater. Forced to watch it replay.

Maybe if you asked he’d sit with you. Keep you company in the darkness.

“Daywalker.”

Gordon had a habit of using the formal version of your nickname. A call sign that seemed to jolt you from your own mind—eyes snapping from The Batman to the man standing beside him. He regarded you with a confused look. A question lingering on his tongue.

One you quickly overlapped with one of your own.

“What the hell happened Gordon?”

His eyes went soft. “Chaos.”

The pain in your side flared to life again. “And what’s he doing here?”

The thump of his boots echoed behind you as he circled the scene. No doubt taking notes about what happened, what was left behind for them to find. Gordon held up a green envelope, writing scratched into the paper as if it was left there in anger—the pen nearly breaking through. A formal address to the man who still remained behind you. A call out to The Batman himself.

Either this guy was insane…or he understood what The Bat would react to.

“So all this…was for him?”

Eyes burned into your skin when you said the words, another thump letting you know he still remained, still listening in the shadows of the room.

Gordon shrugged. “That’s what he’s here to find out.”

You nodded, stepping back to let Gordon do his job with the others as you surveyed the room yourself. Every once in a while your gaze fell back to him. How he stalked about with purpose, each step measured and calculated. He understood the tension in the room, how cops hated that he stood amongst them.

After all, he fell lower into their likeability category than you. To them you were the vulture, but he was the thief. He took their image—their reputations—and made it worse. He took their jobs right under their noses. Not because they couldn’t do it, but because with him it would come to a final end.

You caught bits and pieces of the conversations at hand, heard how the Mayor must have died, but your attention still remained with The Bat. How he stood wary with his back to the window. Every now and then you swore his gaze fell to you, but that might have been your imagination. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped past the threshold; the crime scene doing nothing but wracking your body with fear and anxiety. Two things that were an enemy to a good reporter.

“Killer may have come through the skylight.”

You glanced up, eyes tracing the metal lines of the glass above and tried to imagine the scene playing out before you. How they’d get in, how they’d hide. In your head it matched up, but something felt off—as if the scene itself was too perfect. Too pristine for you to gather anything notable.

Gordon’s voice peaked your interest, drawing you closer. “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

“There’s a cipher too.”

Something flickered in the back of your mind. You remembered Henry having a book of riddles on his desk. Some cheap Christmas gift someone in the office got him in the hopes of giving their boss a sense of humor. You had flipped through it once or twice while waiting for him to show up for a meeting. But you could recall the same riddle being printed with all the others—in a list of nearly three hundred, you remembered that one for its dark flair.

“Lies,” you murmured to yourself, attention forced to the outburst towards Gordon.

But it was the darker and much deeper voice behind you that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “He lies still.”

The answer to the riddle.

Yet even that didn’t tell you much. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to give Gotham the easy way out. No, you could see the darkness lingering in the distance. The threat of something more on the way. And there wouldn’t a fucking thing anyone in this room could do about it. Except for him. His name was on the envelope, his sign in the sky and soon…Gotham would be turning to him for more than just an answer to a riddle.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” the commissioner spat, turning away from the scene with enough anger to rival the killer. Grief plagued the air and while you should have stayed, asked for statements, all you wanted to do was go home.

So you bid Gordon goodnight with the promise to call him tomorrow for more than just this. Your stomach was in knots, bile filling the back of your throat, but you could barely move. His gaze still burned a hole in your back, watching as you left on semi-steady feet—the wound that lingered now a reminder that you were nearly this person. You were nearly another story in a newspaper.

Martinez came up beside you as you stepped out into the hall, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He must have grabbed it from down the street, because he held his own. The rain still pounded outside striking loudly against the window but it had become a drowned out echo. Simply background noise to a tragedy that kept you locked tight in its grasp. You could see the headline of tomorrow’s paper. The words bold and loud amidst the gray color—a color that matched the sky.

GOTHAM MOURNS.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” Martinez asked, eyes still plagued with concern. You wanted to wipe it from his face, place his carefree smile back where it belonged. Except no one would be smiling tonight.

You sucked in a cold breath, sensing the presence of The Bat as he followed Gordon out to the hallway.

“Yeah. A ride would be nice.”

Tomorrow was a new day, but the truth still remained, waiting to break free. Darkness ran through Gotham so deep it would take prying the streets up to see it, but something told you exactly that would happen. This was not the end of the blood that would turn this city red.

It was only the beginning.

[eupheme]

Im so happy youre taking requests, i read that prompt list as fast as i could lol. Touch starved and needy Bruce makes me feral so i hope it's ok if i ask for #100 (we've been at it like rabbits...)combined with #8(i cant sleep without you here). I love everything you write so if you only pick one i'll be just as excited to read it. Ty 💖

Oh, thank you so much! For the great choices & the sweet words. I’ve been excited to work on these prompts! This started needy and got a little more sweet - I really hope you like it! 💕

Good Night (Sweet Dreams)

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Rated E - 900 words

Prompts: 100 -“Again?” / “We’ve been at it like rabbits” & 8 - “I can’t sleep without you here”

Tags: smut, piv, creampie, friends-to-lovers

You’re still waiting for your heartbeat to return to normal, along with your breathing. His weight is welcome, skin bare against yours as he presses you into the bed. Your fingers tracing the scars littering his back, his shoulders.

There’s a story to each one, and you know most of them - though sometimes you think you find a new mark each time you touch him.

Bruce’s face curls into your neck, the soft exhale of his warm breath tickling your skin - his hips keeping your thighs spread wide and he rests, boneless against you.

Until he shifts, until the breath becomes his lips, open and hot against your neck, the soft spot under your ear. Raising goosebumps up and down your arms as his hips press down, grinding his half-hard cock against your sticky inner thigh.

“Again?” You murmur as your skin pinches between teeth - a soft bite as he sucks a bruise into your neck. As a hand creeps up your side, long fingers cupping your breast, thumb circling over a peaked nipple, “We’ve been at it like rabbits.”

He hums against your neck, his head lifting. Hair falling across his brow, into his eyes. His look turning soft in the early morning light, just before dawn.

“I like touching you.”

Bruce kisses you again, your jaw, the hollow of your throat, your chest. Moving down until his lips are teasing the curve of your breast, until you’re starting to shift against him, too.

“I like knowing that I can.”

His tongue peeks out, running over your skin, the sensitive bud, his fingers still cupping your other side, until you’re moaning, arching into his mouth.

“You can touch me anytime.” You’re sighing, your fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead, urging his mouth back to yours, “I’m yours.”

“Yeah.” He groans, as he lines himself up, the fat head of his cock sliding against you - still slick with him, with your own release.

Sinking into you as you spread your thighs wider, until yours stretched around him, until he has you stuffed full again. The word is heavy, murmured against your parted lips as he’s pressed to the hilt, “Mine.”

He fucks you with the same intensity that he has for everything he does. Focused, hovering above you, braced on a forearm as the other hand slips between your thighs. That blue, unblinking gaze watching every detail, each flutter of your eyelashes, cataloging your moans and sighs.

The sharp slap of his hips against yours, until your breaths come out as a breathy pattern, a gasping “ah, ah, ah-“ as he thrusts into you, pounding against the spot that has you forgetting words, his name on your lips dissolving into moans.

Murmuring soft words when your thighs tighten around his hips, ankles digging into his back as you start to stiffen beneath him. You fingernails making new, pink marks against the meat of his shoulders as his fingers circle - wet and slick and your breath is caught in your throat as you gasp.

Your head tilts back as you shudder beneath him, the tight pulse of your pussy around his cock, the wet squelch as he fucks you through it, wanting to feel each and every clench as you come.

His own broken moan, the sloppy press of his lips against your cheek, the side of your head, as he spills into you. Rutting his hips, each thrust making his spend drip from you, curving down your skin and onto the sheets.

Easing out of you only when he has to, this time lying on his back, tugging you against his side. Contented, easy silence until you rise to clean up - his breathing slow and sleepy when you return.

Your fingers brush the hair back from his face, smoothing over the faint worry lines of his brow that have become a permanent fixture. “I should head home soon, I have to work tonight."

"Stay.” He murmurs sleepily, a hand reaching for you, his palm curving around your arm, “You know I can't sleep without you here."

"Flatterer."

His eyes crack open, "It's true. Even back then, I slept best when we were together."

Back when you were younger - Alfred reluctantly letting you stay, understanding that for you, anywhere was better than home. Pretending not to notice when the bedroom you stayed in was still untouched the next morning, just happy that Bruce had a friend.

It had been innocent then. Stories shared under the covers, reading books by flashlight. Staying awake until you couldn't keep your eyes open, drifting off together. Waking up in time to sneak back, only to make a show of leaving your room in the morning for both their sakes.

But this memory has you lowering yourself down, curling into him as his arm wraps around you.

"Mm. Back before you knew I liked you." You add, your words quiet as your head rests against his chest.

His voice comes as a sleepy rumble under your ear, "I always knew you liked me."

"You did not." Your head tilts up, embarrassment heating your neck, your cheeks, in spite of all that has happened.

Bruce’s eyes close as he smiles, "I did. But I didn’t mind.”

His head tilting until his cheek rests against your head, his last couple words soft as sleep begins to take him.

"Because I always knew I liked you, too."

[soriseerakyra]

Anything You -4/Final-

Did not realize that I never posted this here. Sorry! More writing soon.

The white rose on the front of jewelry box spins slightly every time you open and shut the lid, and every time it does you can’t help the smile that runs across your face. It’s a bit childish, you realize, to be infatuated with such a thing, but every time your eyes run over the frame of the small box you can’t help but feel a warmth spread over you when you see it. Your first gift in who knows how long, how were you not going to enjoy it A large warm hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, you don’t tense at the touch but the hairs on your skin stand on in end in excitement at it. His thumb rubs gently, coaxing you to look at him.

His slightly sleepy hooded blue eyes, look at you with an adoration that makes you blush. He smiles when he sees your shy gaze and pulls you to him. You allow yourself to be pulled to him, clutching the box safely into your chest. Your head lands softly on the center of his on chest and he tenderly buries his hand into your hair, his fingers twirl at the at the locs and you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his fingers running through your hair.

You let out a mewl of enjoyment when he begins to rub your scalp, causing another chuckle to spill from his lips.

‘This is nice,’ You think to yourself. Your eyes close slightly enjoying the rhythm of his heart beat.

“I have somewhere to go tonight,” he says quietly.

“Do I have to dress up again?” you question with a yawn.

“No,” he says with a smile. “It’s just me tonight. You can stay here or have Alfred take you somewhere to eat.”

A frown pulls at your lips, “Okay, but won’t that be a little weird, I don’t want to force him to take care of some girl that he doesn’t know.”

“He won’t mind, in fact he’s rather happy that you’re here.”

“Oh?”

“Believe it or not he thinks the bachelor life isn’t a happy one, so he takes joy in the fact that you’re here.”

Your lips pull into a thin line as your body stills at the implication and your mind wonders to the hesitations you had the night before. Were you ready to be someone’s somebody? Perhaps if it were someone else, your mind would scream no, but as his fingers continue to run through your hair and a rather soothing feeling runs over you, you begin to relax. You don’t feel nearly as panicked as you had been. Your press yourself against him and smile at the warmth.

“Maybe I can relieve him of his fears, at least temporarily.”

You don’t see it but a relieve smile spreads across his face. “Only temporarily?” He asks in a teasing tones.

“Yeah,” you say turning to look at him with a mischievous glint in our eye. “I haven’t decided if I like you yet.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and a faux offended frown on his lips, “What more should I do to win your affection?”

“Let me go back to sleep and I’ll tell you how I feel about you when I wake up.”

“I can do that,” he said moving to wiggle the jewelry box free of your hands. He puts it on the night stand next to the bed and the moves to pull you up and close to his chest.

Your tucked into him in a rather protected position, curled into his chest. You let your hand rest on his chest, over where his heart is. You smile when you feel the thumping there. He pulls you close and you can’t help but smile as you begin to fall asleep when he presses a kiss to your forehead.

*** You decide not to take up Bruce’s offer to have Alfred take you to a fancy restaurant or to have him cook your dinner. In fact, you were a little worried when you had asked the butler if you could order a pizza that he would be offended. To your surprise he wasn’t and instead gave you rather kind smile and ordered it for you.

After eating to many slices of your favorite you found yourself exploring the large mansion that you’d been whisked away to. You quickly discovered that you wouldn’t be able to do it all in one night, but you did find one room that you enjoyed. You’d always wondered what it would be like to have enough money to have a library in your own home, but this one was larger than what you expected. There was even a fire place inside of it.

You sit in front of the fire, watching the flames dance in front of your eyes. You imagined that after sometime you would have been bored, but you weren’t. There was something comforting about watching the way the flames twirled back and forth, the way that the oranges, reds, and yellows of the flames tied together to make such beautiful colors. There was something nostalgic about the sight, even though there had never been a time where you’d been able to enjoy such a comforting experience.

“It’s very late, miss.” A voice calls from the entrance of the library. You turn with a slight jump but relax when your eyes catch the familiar grey mane of the butler.

He walks into the room pushing a small two tiered cart, a blanket tucked and folded neatly on the bottom and a large mug and a plate with something on it that you can’t see.

“Is it?” You question. It hadn’t felt like you’d been here for a particularly long time.

He pulls a pocket watch from the slit in his jacket, “Almost one in the morning in fact.”

“Oh!” You say with wide eyes, “Shouldn’t you get some rest then? You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Master Wayne left you in my care,” he says in a matter of fact tone as he bends to pull the blanket from the cart. He walks over to you and reaches down to place the blanket over your shoulders. You reach out to take it from him but he shakes his head and you allow him to drape the fabric around your shoulders.

“Thank you, Alfred,” You say with a smile.

“That’s not all, miss,” he says returning to the cart. He returns with mug and hands it to you.

“Hot chocolate?” You question with the smell wafts into your nose.

“It seemed appropriate,” He said moving to you with a small plate with small white shapes.

“Marshmallows?” You ask him with a questioning glaze.

“Not to your liking?” He asks standing back up.

“I wouldn’t know,” you say with a slightly strained smile. “I’ve never had them.”

“Oh,” he says in a slightly higher tone, denoting his surprise, without which would have never been able to see such an emotion. “Well then, two to start with, to see if you like them.”

He uses a small pair of tongs to grab the small sugary treats from the tray and drops two of them in your mug without so much as a splash.

You bring the mug up to your lips, and you can feel your mouth curl almost involuntarily at the corners. The soft dough slips past you lips and you begin to smile when the sweetness rolls over your tongue.

“This is delicious, Alfred, thank you.”

You give him a grateful smile and he gives you a warm one back as he precedes to place a few more of the soft sweets in your drink.

When he is finished, he begins to exit the room your gaze returns to the fire.

“Alfred?” You ask before he leaves.

You can hear the squeak of the wheels come to stop.

“Yes, miss.”

“He won’t be home for a while will he.”

“No, Miss. Do you need me to escort you to your room?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

*** He’s sore when he comes home. He doesn’t want to admit it but his nightly escapades are taking a toll on his body. Coming up from the back cave he slowly navigates his way back to the room that he shared with her last night.

He is slightly surprised when he finds that she isn’t there. It’s late, so late that it is almost morning, so he doesn’t want to wake Alfred, but where is she?

He walks the halls for a moment, all of the lights are out so it takes a moment to find her. When he finds her in his library curled under a small blanket in front of the fire place, an empty mug sitting at her side. Soft sighs escape her slightly parted lips and he lets a smile cross his face.

Carefully he bends down hooking his arms under her neck and the dip behind her legs. His back aches as he lifts her up and curls her to his chest, however her quiet sighs make the slight stinging pain worth it.

Carefully, he carries her back to her room laying her gently on the bed, however the moment that her head rests on the pillow her eyes open slightly. She watches him as he quietly slips under the covers with her.

“Did you have fun at your party?” She asks groggily.

He freezes, slightly taken off guard by her voice. “Not really,” he said the practiced lie coming smoothly coming to his lips. “Nothing that I haven’t been to before.”

“Hmm,” she hums in seeming understanding even though she had barley comprehended what he was saying. “That’s nice.”

She presses a hand this chest and begins to move closer to him, but the place where she puts her hand is sore and it causes him to flinch involuntarily. This causes her eyes to flash open with an alertness that hadn’t been there before.

“Are you alright, Bruce?”

“Yes, I just pulled a muscle.”

“At a party?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I think from last night.” He again lies.

“Oh,” she says a slight flush coming to her cheeks, slight embarrassment running down her spine. Had she been too heavy for him when he carried her to the bed? or when he brought her here? “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says letting a large hand come and pat down her hair affectionately. “I’m as you said, ‘old.’”

She gives him a shy smile and shakes her head at his self-deprecating jibe, “Not that old.”

“A little old.”

“Only a little,” She teases back. She lays her head gingerly back down closing her eyes. She rubs tenderly at the spot on his chest.

She falls asleep quickly after that.

He feels strange he realizes, watching her sleeping face, lying to her, especially since she had agreed to trust him more than perhaps she had trusted anyone besides her friend. His years of experience however, quickly allow him to rationalize this worry away. His goal in removing her from that life was to protect her, and his lies would be that also.

*** ‘When are you coming home? I need you. Did you leave me for him? You did, didn’t you? You barely know him. He’s going to get tired of you eventually. You’re going to be thro- message deleted.’

It was the third message that Kayla had left you in the past two weeks since you had come to stay at Wayne Manor. The first was a fifteen-minute rant about how you ruined her life that left you a crying heap on the floor of you room. The second was about how she was waiting for you to comeback home so the two of you could be the sisters you were again. After listening to this third one, you had a feeling that the remainder of the fifteen messages in your voicemail were somewhat similar.

Your gaze slides over to the blinds, yellow light from the setting sun shines outside, a break in the heavy winter that you had been experiencing. You feel guilty. You had abandoned her, you both knew that. You had done it on purpose, you’d given up on her, to better yourself. Did that make you a bad person? When you first arrived in Gotham, she’d been there for you. She got you the apartment where you both moved into, taught you how to survive on the street, and while some may contend that teaching someone how to be a better hooker was not the best course of action, she still helped you.

If the tables were turned, and you were the one strung out on coke, would she have left you the way that you left her?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Somewhere deep inside of you however, you knew the reason that you were actually feeling bad was because you weren’t feeling bad. Listening to the cries that she screamed over the phone left you feeling rather hollow, they didn’t move you in the way that you would have hoped they would. Were you a bad person for feeling nothing at all?

“Are you okay?” A smooth voice rings in your ear as the warm hand grasp your shoulder.

You turn and meet the blue eyes of your date and you give him a sad smile, “I’m all right. I’m just a little confused.”

“Anything that I can do to help?” He asks genuinely.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “I think this is something that I will have to fix this myself, eventually.”

“Okay.”

He takes the opportunity to sit on the bed with you, taking your hand and rubbing small circles on the back of it.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Do you feel like coming down?” He asks with furrowed brow,

“Of course,” you say with a smile. “I’m not going to start slacking on the job now.”

“You still think it’s a job?”

You roll your eyes, “Only the talking to rich people I don’t know part. The ‘dancing with you in a pretty dress’ part I like well enough.”

“I see,” he says with a chuckle. He holds his wrist up and examines the time. “You’ll need to put on that pretty dress soon, Alfred can only stall them for so long.”

You stuck your tongue out at the older man but nod anyway.

*** This party was different from the rest. For one, the party was at Wayne manor hosted by Bruce. While you had agreed, in some fashion, to be with Bruce, you supposed a part of you still thought you would kept as a dirty little secret. Being some’s date at someone else’s party was different than being their date at their party, especially when it was at their house.

You examine the party attendees from behind the glass patio doors. A few had cut your eyes, and you had been slightly surprised when they cast you a wave of recognition. How did they know who you were? Why did they look at you like you were supposed to be here?

You smooth the heavy skirt of your cream-colored gown. Was it appropriate? When was it appropriate to start wearing white again? You’d seen some of the other ladies in the property wearing something close to white, but you were the only one wearing a full on white dress.

You catch your reflection in the mirror and let out a small shaky sigh. The glint of the silver jewelry hanging from your ears and your neck was a strange sight. You didn’t look like you, you didn’t feel like you. What would happen if you went out there and started talking to someone of those people and they realized that despite our look, you weren’t the sophisticated lady that your appearance gave off. Charlotte, the little angel that she was, had figured you out quickly enough, you had just been lucky that she had been sweet.

Your hand comes up to your chest in an attempt to calm your beating heart. You don’t know why you feel this way, this happened almost every time you got ready to go to a party. After almost a month you felt like that you should have been over this feeling by now, but you aren’t. A part of you still felt like an imposter. It was in moments like these where you wanted to run back in your small crappy apartment, sitting by your radiator, nursing Kayla down from her hangover. At least then you would know who you were.

“You look beautiful,” Bruce calls as he approaches and you cut your eyes to look at him. He wore a navy-colored tux and patent leather shoes.

“Oh God, you really are one of them,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

“One of who?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“One of those stuffy rich guys that you see in the movies.”

“What?”

“Look at what you’re wearing, you look you’re going to ask me how my stocks and bonds are and what’s my favorite brand of caviar.”

“I’m not going to do that, I already know you don’t like it.”

You cut your eyes away from him in irritation causing a chuckle to fall from his lips. He presses a kiss to your forehead, causing you to close your eyes and let a sigh feeling some of the tension roll off of your shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” He asks being able to feel your slight tightness.

You want to lie, to tell him nothing is wrong. You don’t want to place any stress on him, to ruin his party, but the truth spills from your lips before you can stop it. “I’m afraid everyone here is going to know I’m a fraud and I’ll embarrass not just you but myself too.”

He pauses for a moment examining your slightly panicking form. “To tell you the truth the only person in Wayne Manor, besides, Alfred, that’s not a fraud is you.”

“Me?”

“Most of us are trust fund babies,” he says with a shrug. “We only have our status because someone gave it to us, and those that worked to be here usually have screwed someone else over to get here. In actuality, you are probably the only who as any actual experience in the outside world. We don’t leave it because we don’t have to.”

“So, you’re almost like fake people?”

“Something like that,” he says with a shrug. “So be confident, you have something over all of us.”

“Okay,” You say with a nod. You let out slight stuttering sigh and grab his free hand. “I can do this.”

“All right, let’s start the party then.”

***

Sebastian looks at the image on his phone and his eyes slide over the woman in white hanging on Bruce Wayne’s arm.

It was her all right. He’d knew he seen her before but this was delicious. He lets a smirk curl over his face. He wouldn’t publicly embarrass Bruce Wayne. That wouldn’t be good for business. But just to be a screw in his shoe, to be a thorn in his side, to be able to bask in the fact that Bruce would know that someone would know the secret of his little pet.

“Wayne there you are!”

His shout gets the pairs attention first, the girls wide doe like eyes meet his first. He wants to laugh when he sees the visible frown pull down on her full lips. Wayne has a much more contained reaction, something he expected of someone who is actually trained.

“Oh, you made it Sebastian.” Bruce starts politely, “I hadn’t expected you to come, especially after what happened.”

Sebastian let’s his own frown paint his features as the woman looks between the two of them curiously. “Yes, well, we were lucky that Batman decided to see fit to expose the money laundering scheme that was taking place, it was only fair that I release Charlotte from the agreement that her parents and I made.”

“Money laundering?” She says in surprise she says placing a surprised hand over her mouth.

“Yes, one of the executives at my company seemed to be using his position to fund the mob,” Sebastian said with a shrug.

“And Batman figured it out?”

“Yes,” He says again with gritting teeth.

“Wow,” she says with wide eyes looking at Bruce expecting him to mirror her slight surprise and excitement, he merely gives her smile. “Is Charlotte here?”

“I didn’t see her,” Bruce says. “But she was invited, why don’t you go and look for her.”

She gives him a smile and nod; her eyes darken when she looks Sebastian but she gives him a polite nod nonetheless before she leaves.

“She is a beauty, Wayne,” Sebastian.

“She is, I’m lucky to have found her,” he responds conversationally. He raises his finger up and summons a waiter to give him a flute of champagne.

Sebastian takes one as well, “How much did she cost?”

He expects Bruce’s eyes to widen in shock, to look scared at the thought that someone found out secret. But he doesn’t he just drains his flute.

“I couldn’t tell you,” he says with a shrug. “Alfred took her shopping for that outfit I just gave her the card.”

“You know what I meant Wayne,” Sebastian hisses angrily. “You’re trying to take a whore you found in the middle of downtown Gotham and turn her into a housewife. I can’t wait to see what the press says when they find out where your new pet came from.”

There something dark in Bruce Wayne’s, Sebastian realizes. He’d never seen someone’s eyes actually physically darken before. His eyes seem to scan him up down, as if he was testing to see his resolve. Sebastian can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He realizes that he feels small and that perhaps this had not been the best course of action.

Then suddenly the feeling is gone. Whatever monster that resides in Bruce Wayne is force back in his cage disappears as a polite smile crosses his lips.

“Mr. Wayne over here!”

Sebastian realizes that he had been saved from whatever hell he was about to experience by another unassuming party goer.

“You have a good night, Sebastian.”

He purposefully bumps his shoulder into Sebastian, causing pain to bloom throughout his body.

When he’s gone Sebastian finally lets out a breath, one that he hadn’t known he was holding. He looks around and realizes that none had seen his quiet embarrassment, however he still felt mortified.

He slips away from the party and into the house and quiet place to relieve his nerves.

*** “Alfred, have you seen Charlotte out there?”

The man turned his back on the Chefs who were preparing to serve deserts to the guests. “I don’t seem to remember Miss Charlotte arriving this evening.”

“Oh,” you say with a slight pout. You wanted to celebrate with her, getting away from that slime ball was something that deserved a party unto itself.

“Feeling a little lonely, miss.” He questions coming to stand by your side.

“Of course, you aren’t out there out keep me company,” you say giving him a toothy smile that he happily returns. “But really, I think sometimes I need a break from all of the attention, you know? I don’t know how he does it.”

“Years of practice, miss. You’ll get used to it.”

Cheeks flush at the implication and your shake your head at the thought, “Whatever you say Alfred.”

The sound of glass shattering rings through your ears causing both you and the butler to jump in alarm. A deep frown set in on the older man’s face.

“It seems I have to go and teach the staff how to do their jobs,” he gives you a slight nod and turns away from you.

With a chuckle, you exit the kitchen and begin to make your journey back to the patio. When you reach the foyer however, footsteps catch your attention. Your eyes are quickly drawn to the main staircase. And you seem a body disappear to the west wing of the house.

“Hey!” You shout eyebrows furrowing in confusion when the person didn’t come back down stairs. There were plenty of bathrooms on the first floor why would they go upstairs. You toss a glance to the patio but shake your head, resolving yourself to after the person.

A few seconds later you’re up the stairs with slightly sore high-heeled feet. Whoever was up here was going to get an earful for making you walk up these stairs in these shoes.

You walk down the hall and realize that whoever it is in the house is much farther in than you would have thought. If they were looking for a bathroom it would have been the first door to the left, but the shuffling that could be heard from a familiar room let you know that they weren’t looking for it.

You cast a rueful gaze back down the stairs, maybe you should tell Alfred that there is stranger snooping around the house.

‘He’s busy already,’ you rationalize remembering the staff mess ups.

You make your way down the hall turn and find the door to the library open. You open the slightly cracked door, slightly glad that the hinges don’t creak thanks to Alfred’s expert care for them.

“Sebastian?” You question slightly surprised to see the man in the room. He’s standing next to the mini bar, and has one of Bruce’s glasses pressed to his lips. “You know this is off limits to guests, that’s why everyone is downs stairs.”

“Then why are you here?” He questions looking at you seriously. He doesn’t have slur to his voice, you note as he refiles the glass with Bourbon, but you imagine he does feel slightly freer to say whatever is on his mine.

“I live here,” you assert.

“Oh, so he really does keep you as a pet.”

“W-what?”

He merely looks at you with a slightly raised eyebrow as if to question your sincerity. He pulls his phone out of his pocket clicks it a few times and holds it out toward you. You approach somewhat cautiously. What you see is a photo that makes your heart stop.

It’s picture of a slightly younger you with an older man. You are straddling him, arms wrapped around the man’s neck. Lips pressed rather harshly against him. His nails are digging into the bare skin of your back. The purple lighting and the slight smoke in the air, you remember them all. You remember the beat of the music thumping the back ground. The audible sniffs coming from a table in the corner where Kayla and her clients where sitting. You know that night.

“W-where did you get this?” You ask with nervous stutter.

“Funny thing,” He said slipping the phone into his pocket. “When I saw you at the party, I swore I must’ve known you somewhere. But I couldn’t name it, which is a shame because you really are beautiful, and I tend not forget a pretty face. It was bothering me so one night I was scrolling through my phone and I found this. Its old, three or four years ago, so it took a while, but here it is.”

“What do you want?”

“Does he know how many of us you went down on that night?”

“He knows already, what I did,” you say feeling your throat tighten with anxiety.

“Did?” He questions with a cock of his head? “Or do, because I have a feeling that he paid you to where that dress.”

He didn’t,” you say shaking your head.

“You don’t have to lie,” he says holding his arms out in a faux welcoming tone. He walks toward you and you take steps back. “He pays you well, doesn’t he?”

“He doesn’t pay me anymore.”

“Anymore?” He questions pressing you into a wall. His leg presses between your thighs. “It looks like he’s still paying you. Are those diamonds in your ears? That looks like payment to me. Do I have to buy you a diamond too?”

“Please,” you say bring your hands to his chest and pressing him away. “Just stop, leave.”

“I’m offering payment, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“I think you do,” he says curling a finger around a strand of your hair. “You just won’t do them for me. At least not without the proper incentive.”

Your arms fall slack for a moment and you look at him warily.

“There wasn’t just photo I found,” he says with a shrug. “There is a video I think Mr. Wayne might be interested in seeing. Might give him some ideas for the positions to put you in.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Quite simply because I can,” he says with a nod of his head, “And frankly, Wayne annoys me. Seeing him humiliated would give me the upmost pleasure.”

“Even if you tell me you’re going to show him I won’t do it,” you say with tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I told you, he already knows what I used to do. He’s not dumb, I imagine that he knows that something like this happened. The only people you’ve managed to embarrass is me, a girl you don’t care about, and yourself for thinking you’d be able to hold something over him.”

His cheeks flush bright red with anger and before you know what’s happened a stinging impact explodes over your cheek. The familiar the metallic taste of blood runs over your tongue, and you’re left frozen. It’s been sometime since you’ve been hit. A part of you is overjoyed at the feeling of disgust and anger that rushes through your system, there was a point in your career when you were accustomed to being hit.

Your lip is busted, that much you can tell. The blood rushes from your mouth and dribbles down to the bodice of your cream dress staining it. ‘I’ve ruined it.’

“Are you going to give me what I want or not?”

Your eyes meet the strained ones that are barreling into you, stuck between the fear of realizing what he had just done and the humiliation of your words.

With as much force as you can muster you slam your body against his pushing him away from you. You are quick to sprint out the door and up the hallway, back to the foyer.

Relief floods your body when you hear Bruce’s familiar smooth tone, “Have you seen her, Alfred? She was looking for Charlotte.”

Alfred’s response is cut off by the click of your heels entering the room. The rapid pace of them causes both men to snap their attention to your form.

Alfred must see the blood on your dress first because he lets out an audible gasp.

You hurriedly make your way down the stairs, almost falling as you fling yourself in to Bruce’s chest. When his scent floods your nose, your tears fall and you begin to sob. His arms pull you close.

“What happened?” He asks into the crown of your head.

“You won’t hate me when you find out what I used to do, will you?” You cry through your pain.

“I already, know what you used to do,” he whispers in your ear with a comforting tone. His eyes flash over to Alfred who goes to retrieve something to stop the bleeding.

“Not all of it,” you say with a shake of your head. “You’ll think I’m disgusting when you find out.”

Alfred returns with a cold compress, and gives it to Bruce, he then returns to distract the staff and the guests from the situation occurring in the foyer.

“Never,” he said pulling you away from him and looking at you with stern eyes. Despite his tone though, he gently presses the towel against your lip, wiping away the blood and pressing down to stop the flow. “I already told you to let me take care of you, whatever or whoever you were before we met doesn’t matter to me, unless it’s important to you. If you never want to talk to me about your past I don’t mind.”

You nod, tears welling up again, happy that what you had told Sebastian in bluff, was actually the truth.

“It’s Sebastian,” you relent. “He says he has a photo and video of me from three years ago. He saved them on his phone. He wanted to use them as blackmail to make me have sex with him, when I said no, he did this.”

Despite your explanation, you aren’t really sure if Bruce heard you. His eyes, which usually focus in on your when you speak are averted as if he’s looking behind you. You don’t think that you have ever seen fury on his face and a part of you doubts that you ever actually will. His eyes however tell a different story. They are hard and piercing, and if he ever was actually looking at you with that sort of stare, you’d probably find yourself wanting to curl over and die.

A hard kiss is pressed to your forehead and you are pushed to the side, like you are being passed off to someone. The hands that are placed on your shoulders are warm and you look up into Alfred’s graying face.

“This way, miss. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You don’t fight him as he pulls you away, but you do glance back to see Bruce stalking up the stairs toward a panicked looking Sebastian. *** You’d never gotten to use the down stairs bathroom before, never had the need to, you supposed. But as you soak in the warm water of the rather large claw footed tub, you determine that despite the fact that this is the guest bathroom, it was no less luxurious than any other in the rest of the house. White tile, walls, tub, marble, with gold accents and a dim light that gave everything a warm glow, made the room beautiful.

A knock on the door causes you to jump a little and you sink down covering yourself with the bubbles. You relax slightly realizing that it’s only Bruce, as he walks through door. He gives you a smile when he sees you and you give him a small one back.

He comes to you and kneels at the edge of the tub watching you with slightly concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine, I’m sorry about the dress though.”

“That’s not your fault, you can get ten more to replace it.”

You look down, “You know you don’t have to buy me things, right? I don’t want you have to feel like you have to keep giving me things now that you aren’t paying me.”

A large hand comes up rest on your cheek. His thumb rubs at the skin softly, you lean your face into his hand smiling softly. Your eyes drip down to his other hand and see the other hand. You can see slight bruising and swelling around the knuckles. You reach for his hand and dip it in the warm water

“I always miss the fight,” you say running your finger affectionately over his injured knuckles.

“Always?”

“My father and my brothers used to fight all the time. Mailmen, other boys at the school, the clerk at the liquor store that wouldn’t sell them cigarettes.”

“Sounds like an exciting time.”

“Hectic is more like it,” You say with a chuckle.

It’s silent for a moment and you feel embarrassment rise up inside of you.

“Did you see the picture?” You ask him in a small voice.

“No,” he says quickly, “And you don’t have to worry about it, I made sure that it won’t be a problem in the future.”

“And if another comes up? Or if there is something on the internet of me that pops up?”

“It doesn’t matter, and I don’t want you to dwell on it anymore. Going forward, don’t think about your past if you don’t want to. I know it can be hard, technically I may come off as a hypocrite telling to let the past go, but if that helps you we’ll never bring it up.”

“How are you a hypocrite?” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

His eyes seem to flicker between emotions for a moment, as if he is quickly debating telling you something but he doesn’t, “I’ll tell you later I promise.”

“Okay,” you say with a nod of your head. “I promise that I’ll try not to be ashamed of my past.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and stands to leave the room. He pauses at the door.

“This is your home now, and you can do anything you want. Don’t think that I’m the type of person who would just get rid of you on a whim. Even if you hated me for some reason, I wouldn’t make you leave unless you wanted to.”

“Why?” You ask. “Why do you care so much.”

“I don’t know.” He says truthfully. “I don’t know why the thought of you leaving or letting you go hurts. From the moment, you came back to my hotel, I knew I couldn’t leave you alone.”

“Oh,” you say letting the words sink into you. “I think I feel the same. If it wasn’t you I don’t think I would care so much what someone thought of me. I’ve never been ashamed before, but when I think about you finding out if I’m good enough. But it seems like I need to get out of my own head.”

“Maybe just a little,” he says with a smile.

You give him a smile back as he closes the door behind him. A fluttery feeling rushes over you. He had alleviated your unspoken worries. Perhaps now you could finally get comfortable living in your new life.

*** Yellow looks good on her, Kayla decides, as she watches the woman hurry into the small ditty dinner. Her clothing is immaculate and compared to what she looked like months ago, it just doesn’t seem like she belongs in the room.

Her worried doe like eyes scan the room and Kayla raises her hand. The girl-no woman looked over at her with wide eyes and hurried over to her booth.

“Kayla,” she breathes in a huff. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Kayla says having to avert her eyes from her bright white teeth. “How have you been.”

She looks angry at Kayla’s words and her cute, light-make-up covered face scrunches up to reflect the irritation. “Kayla, you called me like you were in danger. ‘Can you come get me? I need you.Someone’s following me.’ Do you remember that? I thought you were in danger!”

“I know, but I thought that you wouldn’t come otherwise. You haven’t been answering my calls.”

She rolls her eyes but her shoulders visibly relax. Her own manicured hand shoots up getting the attention of a waitress.

“Can you bring me of coffee please,” she says flashing her a bright smile. The waitress nods.

They wait in silence.

The waitress comes and sits a small mug in front of her, and pours the dark liquid.

“Thank you,” she says shaking a packet of sugar. She flicks her eyes over at Kayla, “I’m assuming you ate already.”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

They sit in silence and Kayla runs her eyes over her form for a moment. Her eyes happen to fall on to her left hand and her breath catches in her throat.

“He’s marrying you?” Kayla questions incredulously.

She stops stirring her coffee and her eyes cuts from the large diamond sitting on her finger and back over to her friend, “He asked me, I said yes.”

“Congratulations I guess,” Kayla says with a shrug. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I haven’t told anyone, Kayla.”

“I guess you’re right, it would have been front page news if you had.”

“What do you want, Kayla.”

“You look so good,” Kayla. “Makes you wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t given him to you, if I got in his car that night.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but we aren’t talking about that right now Kayla, what do you want.”

“I’m homeless now, you know, since you left.”

“Is that what you want? You want me to pay for your rent?”

“No, I want you to come home, and fix things like you used to.”

“I have a new home now Kayla,” She says with steely eyes. “Even if I hadn’t met Bruce there is no guarantee that I would still be with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our job, the way we were living, you have to know that I never planned to stay there. That wasn’t the life that I wanted.”

“So, you always planned on leaving me, he just sped up the process.”

“I wanted to take you with me, you have to know that. But every time we got a little bit of money you shoved it up your nose.”

“We could have made more.”

“I did Kayla! I did. I tried to make sure that we had everything that we needed to survive but every time I moved us forward you moved us back. Listen to me, can you think of a month where we weren’t struggling not to get evicted?”

Kayla flashes her eyes down. She doesn’t want to give her an answer that she knows will only hurt her argument. She knows that the reason her only friend left her was her own fault. She recalled the conversations they had about moving to different neighbor hoods and trying to make a better life for themselves. If she was honest, the thought of leaving everything that she had known was scary. Perhaps that was why she was almost inadvertently sabotaging the plans for more.

“I shouldn’t have cut you off, that was wrong of me. I’m sorry for that, but I’m not going to enable you anymore. If you want me to help you, I will, but I’m not going to feed your drug habit.”

“What you going to lock me up?”

“If that’s what you want, maybe therapy? I don’t know what causes you to harm yourself so much, but you have to fix that.”

“You’ll pay for it?”

“I’ll pay for it,” she says with a smile. “I don’t want you to think that I hate you, I think we both need to be on the same page, and to do that we both need to be sober.”

“All right.”

“All right.”

The woman no- her best friend pulls out her wallet and places a few bills on the table, before she stands.

“You’re leaving?”

“No, we’re leaving.” She reaches out and grabs her arm and pulls her out of her seat.

“Where are we going.” Kayla eyes blink away at tears as they try to adjust the midday sun.

“Getting you home,” she says as if it’s obvious.

“Home?”

“You think I’m just going to let one of the people I care most about in this world suffer? I just wanted, needed you to come to the decision that you would change for yourself. Like I said, it was never my intention to leave you behind, I’m not the only one that deserves happiness.”

Kayla smiles and tucks herself into her arm, “Thanks.”

She doesn’t get a response as she’s pulled to a town car. The door is opened by and older gentlemen who Kayla expects to receive a judgmental gaze from but she doesn’t. She feels a small hand on her back pushing her to slide into the vehicle.

Inside, there is a familiar face waiting. He gives her a smile and blush runs over her cheeks and her eyes flash over to her friend.

“Why are you surprised?” She questions with a chuckle. “You told me you were in trouble so I came.”

“I didn’t think I’d derail your whole day.”

She raises an eyebrow in suspicions, and Kayla has to relent, that was what she wanted, for her to drop everything to come save her. The fact that she actually did made her feel warm inside, but a little embarrassed now that she had to deal with the reality of the panic that she caused.

“Sorry for being a drama queen. And sorry to you too, Mr. Wayne.”

He flashes her another good-natured smile, “It doesn’t bother me, it was her call and good excuse for me to get out of my meeting.”

“You haven’t gotten out of anything,” his fiancée snips quickly. “If you don’t go, I’ll get an earful from Charlotte’s mother about how your never there. It’s bad enough you fall asleep.”

His lips press into a flat line, “But that's why you’re there.”

“And I’m busy today.”

Kayla can tell that he wants to bicker but she raises an eyebrow at him and it seems to quiet him down.

Kayla wants to pretend that there has been a change in her friend but there hasn’t. She’s always been like this, assertive and confident. Then she thinks about the cruel things that she’s said to her. How she tried to tear her down. She fills a pit of guilt form in her stomach.

She stews on her thoughts for so long she misses when they arrive at Wayne Enterprises and drop the man off.

“Whats bugging you?”

Kayla looks up at her friend before pressing her forehead into her arm.

“When I get better and I get a job you have to let me get you something so I can make up for all of the stupid shit I’ve done and put you through.”

“The only thing that I want is for you to be better, so we can be like sisters again.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.”

“Also, I lied earlier, I didn’t eat. Can we stop and get something?”

“Sure, anything you want.”

[ktficworld]

Lies and Lavish

Chapter 1: introduction

Pairing: soft dark! Andy Barber x reader, soft dark! Steve Rogers x reader, soft dark! Clark Kent x reader, soft dark! Bucky x reader, soft dark! Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: You finally pull your head out of your studies and go to your long time friend's wedding to relax. And it's going to be alright, even if the infamous five brothers tend to linger around you a little too long, even when you share a past with one of them, even if their darkness is slowly approaching you. It's going to be okay, right?

Warnings: angst, mutual pining, manhandling, violence (by reader)

A/n: phew, it's finally here. Let me know what you think and please reblog it. It give ke motivation.

The wind whistled in the air mingling with the horns and roars of the cars, more expensive than your soul.

You sighed at the gigantic iron gate before you as the straps of your backpack dug into your shoulder. You were really second guessing your visit but the thought of your friend made you shake your head. After all, it was your childhood best friend wedding, even if it was to Ransom Drysdale. How did she managed to win that throttle? You would never know. But then again, not everybody's life revolved around school and sleep.

You glanced at the two additional bags you brought. Your backpack had essentials and your books. Even though, you came to relax, you'd still squeeze in some study. Business was no easy major and your finals were four months away.

You gripped your trolley bags and meekly shuffled towards the gate and entered the Drysdale estate through a smaller door-like gate. You sighed and looked around for any worker or someone who could help you with this maze.

Honk.

You jumped, clutching your racing heart as the loud noise pulled you out of your reverie. You began turning your head to glare at the motherfucker who almost gave you a heart attack, when an oh-so familiar voice called out your name.

"Luna! Come here."

You caught a glimpse of a Rolls Royce with a familiar sticker before you turned to beam at your friend, Alaïa. She waved at you with a megawatt smile and you thanked your lucky stars for working today as you dragged the bags and yourself towards her.

"Hi Alaïa, oh god! I can't believe you are getting married. Congratulations!" You said while intertwining your hands with hers, bouncing giddily.

"Thanks sis and gimme this," She pulled the bag off from your shoulders and deposited it on the nearby trolley bag. She glanced around and beckoned someone to where you were standing. "Leo, can you put these bags in the guest room I set up. Thank you." She politely ordered and off went your bags.

"Wow, Alaïa. You're living like a queen, huh?" You said, distracted by the large man taking away your luggage.

"Well, perks of marrying a rich man."

At that your smile faltered. You gradually dragged your gaze back to her. "Listen, Alaïa, you know I don't beat around the bush so I'm just gonna ask you. Are you okay with Ransom bringing more wives in the future?"

That was the new normal now. Apparently, 50 percent divorce rate was too alarming for the governments around the world. Add the loneliness statistics and now getting a divorce was nearly impossible. However, those who had the money to keep multiple partners, were allowed. Yes, polygamy was now legal. But the financially dependent partner had no say in this arrangement and that was why you feared for Alaïa.

Alaïa grimaced. "I know you're blunt. But you don't have to put it like that and don't worry. Ransom has promised to stay with me and only me."

They meant nothing. You were promised too. "But Alaïa, people change. What if he just said that to trap you? What will you do when he brings home some bimbo twenty years younger than him?"

People do change sometimes, even overnight. Or maybe they just hide their true face so perfectly that you couldn't see past those roses and sweet nothings.

Alaïa's lips tugged upwards into a half, bitter smile. "You think I'm a gold digger, don't ya?"

You gasped at the accusation. "God, no. And even if you were a gold digger, there's nothing wrong with it in this economy. The golden days are long gone. I'm just concerned about you, Alaïa."

"Hmmm, I know you only want the best for me. And I was just teasing you. I have signed the open marriage arrangement."

You heaved a sigh of relief but couldn't help thinking that somebody had definitely shamed her with that tag. "You scared me. It's great Ransom offered you that. Maybe, he is actually really committed to you." There were men and women who would allow the courtesy of an open marriage to their financially dependent partner, in case they marry again. So, if Ransom was really risking his fragile male ego, then he really meant it in your opinion.

"Yeah, maybe we can find you a committed one or two here. Look, their eyes are already wandering over you." She said with way too much enthusiasm and pointed behind you where few men were eyeing you with interest.

You whipped your head back to your friend, now accompanied with a sharp glare. "Absolutely not! I don't plan on marrying. Ever. And especially not to those dogs lolling their tongue."

Alaïa laughed at your little outburst and hooked her arm with yours. "I'm joking. Now, come on. Let's get you to Harlan." And began leading you inside the mansion.

But you planted your feet on the ground, causing her to stagger back to you. "Why would I meet Harlan?" You asked, bewildered.

She looked at you sheepishly. "I may have bragged about your writing and business skills way too much. Because as soon as I said you were coming today, he instructed me to bring you straight to his office."

What did your friend tell him that Harlan Thrombey wanted to meet you? And not just meet you but meet you straight away? It annoyed you nonetheless. "Alaïa, but-"

"No if and buts. You are going to the office right now." She declared and dragged your whining body with her.

_

"Harlan, look who's here." Alaïa announced as she pushed open the large doors.

You stood beside her and smiled at Harlan when his eyes lit up. "Oh, Luna. Welcome dear. I have heard a lot about you." He said with a good-natured smile.

"I don't know what she has told you but I'm definitely not what you think." You said, stepping towards him.

Harlan huffed out a chuckle. "I call it nonsense. I have seen you work, I have seen your articles. You are an asset to have-"

"How are you doing, Harlan?" A dark baritone voice called from behind as the doors flung open, sending shivers down your spine.

You gazed back and your breath hitched in your throat. In walked The Five Brothers, the richest and most dangerous people in the world. If one percent of the world's population ruled the 99 percent, then they ruled the hundred percent of it. They had unimaginable power, both legally and illegally.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company." The eldest, Andy Barber said. You didn't catch the intrigue in his voice.

Because among them was him. He was the last one to come in, your eyes locked for a second and an emotion you couldn't decipher passed through his eyes before he completely disregarded you and returned to his nonchalant attitude.

And why would he care? You meant nothing to him. Or he wouldn't have left the way he did. It was just a second of eye contact but for you it felt like eternity as the bittersweet memories flashed before your eyes. They were tainted by the black cloud of reality but for you, they meant everything. Because even if you were a mere lay for him. You liked that bastard. Loved even, if you allowed yourself that pain.

"Luna, I didn't know he'd come. I'm sorry." Alaïa said but you were already too out of your mind to care about her words.

You were drowning. Drowning in pain, in the memories, in the abandonment after swearing to never love, seeing your parents example. Only to open your heart to that asshole and have it smashed into a billion pieces.

Your lungs were bursting and tears were prickling your eyes. You didn't want to cry over that fucker, never, not again. But your breath was already coming out in short puffs and it was getting difficult to remain discreet. You were going to cry, you couldn't help it.

"Harlan, my head is hurting like crazy. I think coming here in this scorching heat caused it. Can we talk at night?" You blurted out as you released a shuddery breath, unshed tears bluring your vision.

Harlan's eyes softened and he gave you a compassionate smile. "Of course, dear. Take care of yourself."

You nodded with a wry smile and turned to leave. Attempting to bypass the large men that had engulfed the entire study.

There was no furniture at the door, no plants but you still gasped as your feet hit something, disbalancing you as you fell. However, before you could fall, a pair of strong arms caught you. You knew who caught you, you knew that scent too well. You looked up to glare at him. He made you fall.

"Woah, babe. I know women fall head over heels for me but I didn't mean it literally." He chuckled and you screwed your eyes shut to stop yourself from slapping the fuck out of him.

"Maybe you are way too sick. Should I escort you to your room?" He said and you snapped your gazes up at him.

You wanted to squirm out of his hold. Maybe stomp on his feet. You wanted to run away but the bruising grip around your waist didn't allow you the courtesy. His signet ring digging into your skin, as if pleading to agree, to hear whatever he wanted to say or do.

"Please." You whispered, you didn't know what you were asking. To tell you the truth and finally give you closure or to not break your heart again.

You squealed as he collected you in his arms. Promptly trapping you.

"Yeah, Bruce just go and drop her. Don't mess around here, okay." Andy said with a sigh.

"Of course, brother. Why would I do that now?" Bruce said with feigned innocence, causing all of his brothers to scoff.

He turned to Alaïa and stared at her expectantly. "Oh, third floor, last room on the left side." She hastily informed.

He nodded with his charming smile and dashed out the door. But you knew he wasn't taking you to your room.

"Bruce put me down." You said with calm firmness. Finally getting a hold of your emotions.

"No." He said with an attitude as he marched up the stairs, the forcing rocking you hard in his arms as you clutched his shoulders.

"Bruce, I said let me go and don't give me that attitude."

No answer.

"BRUCE LET ME DOWN." You were suddenly pushed into a dark corridor. His entire weight pinned you down to keep you from squirming away.

His head whipped to the right side, inky hair cascading over his forehead as your slap echoed in the hollow corridor. He did not move his head, did not bat an eye, hell! He looked like he wasn't even breathing.

You snapped his face to the left as you hit him again and again. You knew it was wrong. You knew he wasn't feeling more than a pat on his cheeks as you were no match for his strength but you still did it. Once, twice, thrice. You did it till tears rolling down your cheeks blurred your vision, till your hands hurt and shook, till they were covered by larger ones.

You wanted to cry on his shoulder, like how you did when you didn't get the expected result but you refrained from it. And leaned against the wall instead.

"Want to hit me again? Go ahead." Bruce whispered, his thumbs soothing your aching palms. There was emotion in his voice now, the care that he lacked before.

"You left," You said through sobs. "You left after we lost our virginity together!"

"I did. But I never wanted to leave you. I had to." He replied, his voice cracking in the end.

"That is not a good fucking excuse, Bruce Wayne." You bit back and tried to wriggle out of his hold but you were further pressed into the fall when he caught onto your escape plan.

"I'm not making any excuses Luna. I had no choice, we had no choice! They were so close to uncovering our identity. We would have been done for."

"Who they? What they? Bruce do you seriously give this explanation to every single woman you fuck and abandon? When you take their virginity or sack a married woman? You are a pathetic excuse of a man, Bruce." You were just his practice. Someone he lost his virginity to, nothing more, nothing less. You were done. You didn't want any closure, any explanation if this was what you were getting. You wanted him out of your sight and life. Even if it meant leaving your best friend's wedding.

"I swear on my dead mother's grave I didn't want to leave, Luna!" Bruce roared and you finally halted, coming down from your hysteria. You looked at him as you both heaved.

He swore on his mother. The mother who he loved dearly. Who was kicked out on the streets with his other four brothers by their father and mistress, throwing them out of the life of luxury to beg on the streets. The one who died in front of him in a car accident when he was just eight.

Bruce told you all this when he was too drunk or too sleepy to care. So you weren't relying on gossip here.

Now you listened to him as he took a deep breath. "Do you think I like it? Moving from one place to another on a day's notice? Working minimum wage jobs even though we were far more capable? Changing identities like clothes? Do you think we liked living in fear? I had a red dot on my forehead, Luna. Heck! Maybe I still do and when I say I didn't have the time to even say goodbye, I mean it. And no, I didn't sleep with married women, didn't take anyone's virginity. All hook ups were consensual and I don't give anyone any excuse or explanation."

"Is this really the truth?" You asked, exhausted and relaxed at the same time.

"It is, Luna. I never wanted to leave you. I-missed you." He whispered and gingerly touched his forehead with yours and when you didn't jerk away, he released a shuddery breath.

"I don't forgive you." You whispered back, touching his stubbled jaw. God, his warmth, he still used that aftershave. It brought back so many memories.

"You don't have to."

"Are you asking for it?"

"Yes."

To your dismay, a hope bloomed in your heart that maybe, you would be able to forgive him with time and rekindle the unsaid. However, you quickly crushed that desire. You were worlds apart now. You were still grinding your ass to study and get a good job while he was one of the richest men in the world. You didn't belong here. He did.

You slid your head from his forehead to his chest as he buried his head into your hair. You let a few more tears fall off your eyes as a pang of headache hit you. It was great while it lasted.

"Bruce-oh! You know her?" A surprised voice startled you as Bruce tensed underneath your hold.

He sucked in a deep breath and whirled around so quickly it gave you whiplash, his tall stature shielding you completely. "And now why would I tell you, shorty? Were you stalking me?" He said with a sardonic smirk as you gaped at him.

This was not the sensible, careful and vulnerable Bruce. This was the rude, condescending and arrogant rich asshole everybody knew him as. Granted he always had a bad temper with an even worse mouth but this was not him. Maybe he changed overtime.

Bucky didn't even bat an eye over his height's judgement and said. "No, I wasn't stalking you. You were taking too long so Steve told me to check if you were behaving. Now who is she?" Bucky's mouth also turned upwards, his almost green eyes twinkling with mischief as his chocolate hair fell over his forehead. Even if Bucky was on the shorter side, it did nothing to deter his beauty.

Your thoughts were interpreted by the loud snort of Bruce. "Come on, Buck. You are becoming such a pet of our Stevie. I don't know what treats he gives you but they sure look worth it. And as for her?" Bruce turned to you, head cocked with a raised eyebrow.

You sidestepped Bruce and came face to face with Bucky. You told him your name. "People call me Luna, I'm his friend from college."

Bucky let out a breathy chuckle. "Honey, he changed colleges like clothes. You'd have to be more specific."

"Very first college, Buck. You know." Bruce said nonchalantly and your head snapped to glare at him. You were half upset when you thought his brothers didn't know about you but as Bucky's flicked over you and your cheeks heated up. You wanted them to forget about you.

You glanced at Bucky with an awkward smile as realisation dawned on him and his mouth curved in a o shape. He stuck out his hand for you with a warm smile. "Don't worry, doll face. Only I and Bruce know about you and his… friendship." You shook it.

"Bruce, I didn't know she was such a beauty. You should have told us. We would have taken her with us." You and Bucky laughed. However, Bruce only narrowed his eyes and his jaw ticked.

"I should escort her to her room." Bucky said.

"But that's my duty."

"No, Harlan wants to discuss AI so he needs you. Plus, I have a message to deliver to, doll face."

Bruce huffed and nodded reluctantly. All three of you went to the stairs before diverging. However, you still felt Bruce's eyes as you glanced over your shoulder and found him looking longingly at you. You gave him a smile before he disappeared down the stairs.

"So what is the message you have to deliver, Mr. Barnes?" You ask in a whisper.

Bucky suddenly hooked his arm in your and pulled you towards him, making your breath hitch at the closeness as his heady scent made you dizzy.

"It's Bucky Alaïa wants you to meet her in the garden at 5. She wants you to meet Ransom." He whispered back in your ear and you gulped as it sounded like a dark lullaby to your brain.

"O-okay." You stammeredq out as your room finally arrived.

"Bye, bye, doll face." Bucky rasped close to your face and you were almost disappointed that you arrived so quickly.

Now that Bucky had left, his words registered in your brain. Why the fuck did Alaïa want you to meet Ransom? Was she planning on making you a mistress? You should really stop reading those reddit stories.

-

You dressed into a black, long dress after taking a nice shower and scrubbing away all the dirt and sweat. After shower feeling was the best feeling.

You gilded down the stairs, stepping into the bustling living room. You promptly avoided all of the people and made a beeline for the door leading to the garden. But you stumbled forward, almost falling to the ground as someone had just stepped on your dress. Perfect!

You turned around and your scathing words died an untimely death on your tongue as your eyes landed on the burly man. A phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as his brows were furrowed in concentration and frustration, his pink lips jutting out as his blonde hair made his blue eyes shine even brighter.

Steve Rogers. Even if he looked a tid bit more approachable than his twin, he still wasn't someone to mess with. And if you cussed at him, well then you could say goodbye to your career.

You sighed and tentatively stepped closer to him. Gingerly, you touched his bicep.

"Hey, stay away from him!" A coarse, deep voice thundered, making you shriek away from Steve as it left you shaking with fear.

This caught Steve's attention as he looked at you and then at his right. "Clark, where are your manners? Yelling at a lady? And for no reason?"

Clark hissed but you weren't able to look at him. "Shit, brother. I wasn't yelling at her. The man behind you, he has a knife."

You furrowed your brows and turned behind to a worker holding a knife with a deer caught in headlights look.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him as he quickly stuttered out. "This is to open a package." And tossed the knife to a nearby worker who disappeared to the storage room.

Steve sighed heavily. "Clark, I can defend myself, you know that right? Why do you overreact so much? And did you not see her?" And pointed at you.

Clark replied after a beat of silence. "I genuinely didn't. I'm sorry…" He started walking towards you but you only recoiled into Steve with each step he took.

You didn't want his apology, at least not right now. You were far too shaken to think coherently.

Steve sighed and coiled an arm around your clinging form and caressed your side. "Clark, not right now. She's far too shaken up to not cry or scream at you. Try again, later."

"But, brother-"

"Leave." He said through gritted teeth.

Clark's footsteps faded away as you involuntarily hid in his chest, his earthy scent grounding you as he shushed you. "Hey, doll. It's okay, it's alright. He won't hurt you, no one would. It was just a misunderstanding, stop shaking babydoll." He cooed.

His soft deep voice relaxed you but as soon as the fear was gone, embarrassment burnt your cheeks as you stepped away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… " You rasped. Did you just rub yourself on The Steve Rogers like a needy kitten?

"Don't say that, doll. My brother caused it so I must fix it."

"Thank you and-" You yelped as you descended down the floor. His foot was still on your dress. Great!

You braced yourself for the impact but bounced in two strong arms as your hands flew to his forearms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was standing on your dress." He said when you snapped your eyes open.

You were swimming in his blue gaze of concern and sincerity. "Yeah, that's what I was trying to say."

"What's your name, doll? Hmmm?" He asked after brought you back to your feet. Your eyes fluttered as his knuckles ran softly over your cheek.

You told him your name.

"Doll is much better, suits you well. Where were you going, anyway?" He quietly asked.

"I-um, I was going to meet Ransom."

"Oh, I was going to meet him as well. Let's go together."

"No, thank you." You politely declined.

"Come with me." He said and dragged you towards the garden.

-

You talked with Ransom till seven, he wasn't at all like the media projected him. Maybe he changed for Alaïa as he was really committed and determined to do things right. They had your blessings to put your feelings into words.

After Steve dragged you to the garden. He was courteous enough to let you talk to your friend and Ransom privately before he joined.

Then you went to finally meet Harlan and had the overdue talk. He wanted to discuss the latest trends in the writing industry and how to incorporate it in his company's branding. So, that it could appeal to younger audience.

It was a long and draining conversation and you deeply sighed, leaning against the wooden door of Harlan's office. You were finally going to the garden, which you wanted to revisit since you stepped foot in it.

"Miss?"

You gasped at the voice and started for the stairs but Clark's body blocked your path, pushing you against the door.

"I didn't want to scare you." He said, genuinely remorseful.

"You are doing that right now." You snapped and he put up his hands in surrender.

"It's not intentional, I swear."

It might not be. The brothers were tall, except Bucky but Clark was a beast. His biceps were larger than your hand and he practically dwarfed you with his sheer shadow. His eyes were also blue but they had a brown sprinkled in them. He had a little beard with a moustache that made him look even more intimidating and sexy. You had never seen a man who looked this sexy in a moustache.

"Well then be more mindful." You bit back.

He nodded and snaked his hand behind him and pulled out a rose. And not just any rose but a black rose. Where he found it you had no idea but it mesmerized you nonetheless. It was something you had only seen on television and seeing it in real life left you agape.

He offered the rose to you. "I'm sorry, princess." He whispered, the nickname heating up your cheeks.

You gingerly took the rose and let a giddy smile tug on your lips. "Okay, I forgive you. Just remember you are way bigger and stronger than most people. Use your strength wisely." He nodded with a bunny smile and you smiled back before heading to the garden.

You loudly and walked into the garden in peace. Walking in the open at night was another level of tranquillity that you didn't get very often, thanks to your dorm in the concrete jungle.

You twirled the rose in your hand, halting at nearby flowers. You bit your lips wanting to pluck some and put them in a vase. Even though they wouldn't last forever, the contrast would still look appealing.

But you didn't have the permission of any of the Drysdale.

"Couldn't sleep?" A dark baritone voice said from behind.

You flinched and turned around to be greeted by Andy Barber, wearing a simple white tee and sweats. A silver chain peeking through the collar as a smirk danced across his bearded cheeks.

"Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Barber."

"The feeling is mutual, miss. How's your headache now?" He raised a brow.

You told him your name and nickname. "And it's much better now, thanks for asking."

"Hmmm, Luna, so fitting for the person and the setting," He erased the distance between you two in two long strides and glanced at you. "I couldn't blame you. The night is beautiful."

"But the garden is even more beautiful." You said as he glanced at you.

"Indeed."

"I don't get to dwell in the greenery much." You resumed your walking.

"How so?" He followed.

"It's just study, sleep and sometimes relax for me."

"What are you studying?"

"Business, last year."

"Internship."

"Freelance." You said with a shake of your head. Andy somehow liked your presence and so did you. He was like the ocean.

"And won't you ask me about my work?" He teased as you were back behind the bushes of colourful roses.

"I know everything about that, Mr. Barber."

"It's Andy, darling," He said and only then did you notice the distance, or lack thereof between you and him. "And so confident about it, darling?"

You swallowed through your smile. "Well, everybody knows about how your work is going. So I'm pretty confident."

He chuckled. "I like it. Tell me more."

You resisted the urge to narrow your eyes as he seemed way too interested in a mere student and you have also grown tired.

"A black rose?" He voiced suddenly, lifting your hand to examine the item.

"Yes, isn't it unique?"

"That it is. Who gave you this?" He demanded softly.

You hesitated before speaking. "Mr. Kent."

"Who?" Andy asked as if you had told him the answer to the Bermuda Triangle mystery.

"Mr. Kent " You squealed as his thumb brushed the underside of your hand.

"Why?"

"Because he accidentally scared me by screaming."

He huffed out a chuckle. "Typical of Clark," He walked closer to you, ceasing the distance between you two completely. You averted your eyes as the tension grew. "It'll look better with some companions."

His hand went above your head and you gasped as he presented you red, yellow, white and light pink roses.

"Andy, you don't have the permission for that." You breathed and shook your head.

"Oh honey, I have all the permission you need." He said and handed you the roses. "Take them, they'll look good together."

You nodded. "Ah, actually I'm feeling sleepy and I'm kinda an insomniac, so it's an opportunity I can't miss. We'll resume our conversation tomorrow." You lied.

He pondered over your words, making you nervous before he smiled and nodded. "Of course, sleep is important. Especially to a beauty like you."

You offered a parting smile and walked away. You hugged yourself as a chill ran down your spine. It was not because of the cold night but the gaze that bore into you and the dark aura that clung to you, you couldn't shake it off even when you tried.

You felt something would change drastically, what and how. You didn't know.

Taglist: @goldenharrysworld , @magnificentsaladllama , @iloveavengers , @charmed-asylum , @moonstruckbirdie

[lovelettersforthedamned]

I Lived That Night Too

--genre + trope: angst, hurt/little comfort, nsfw.

--pairing: pattinson!bruce wayne x gf!vigilante!reader

--word count: 1.7k

--summary: after a run in with the joker a few months ago, bruce has been extra protective over you, and you've had enough.

--warnings: graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, mention of a potential SA, angst, mentions of food, bruce and reader are mean to each other, some kisses, very very light fluff.

--gif credits: @bittwitchy

The sun set a few minutes ago, leaving the warm lighting of the overhead lights flooding throughout the corridor. Dinner was almost ready, yet Bruce was still in bed, recovering from his previous night out. Halloween was always tough for Gotham’s masked vigilante, the holiday becoming the motivation for those who dwell in mischief. 

The past year has haunted Bruce, even in his unconscious mind. Visions of that night dance across his eyelids. 

~

The night air was humid, the first warm night kicked off the start of the Summer weather. Even though warmer nights were upon those living in Gotham, rain poured heavily. You prepared to go out for the night, making your rounds around the city, making sure the peace was kept. There was no warning, no sign of disturbance in front of you as the front tire of your motorcycle caught on something, flinging you through the air. 

It’s not the initial impact of the fall that hurts, it's the pavement under you scraping your skin as you’re dragged by a man, the only feature you can pick up on is his recognizable laugh. He stops under a streetlight, the sudden brightness making your eyes squint, unable to process the figure’s next moves. His silhouette, raising a bat, is the last thing you’re able to see before a flaring pain in your stomach erupts. The pain moves to your side, then to your head, and finally to your hands. 

The warm air seemed to heighten the stench of your blood, the metallic smell making you nauseous. The man above you inspects your body, making sure his work is done. A small nod follows his lingering eyes before leaning down to uncurl your, now broken, hand, “Hold this for me, would you?” As he peels back each broken finger, with the last remaining energy you had left, a scream leaves your lips. In your now open hand, he places the same bat he used to harm you carefully in your grasp, positioning it perfectly before walking away. 

The gravel beneath his feet crunches as he’s relieving this moment once again. His eyes squint to focus on the sight in front of him, a body lying in the gleam of a streetlight, twitching. As he walks closer, there's a pit in his stomach, he knows that it’s you. There’s not an inch of your body that isn’t covered in a cut drowned in blood. His gaze ran up and down your shriveled figure, finally looking at the bat you’re holding, pieces of wood splintering at the barrel. His eyes lock onto the words that are jaggedly carved into the body of the bat. 

BATTER UP. 

He freezes at the sight of the engraving, the only movement coming from his eyes, darting back to your beaten face. He feels an unexplainable force weighing him down, he can’t move, and he can hardly breathe. The first person he contacts is Alfred. Back home, Alfred can see everything, due to Bruce’s advanced contact lenses. The older man is also in a state of shock, you were hardly recognizable. 

It takes Alfred’s pleas to shake Bruce out of his dissociative state. All Bruce could think of was what his life would look like without you, and how much he feared for your life. 

~

Waking himself up from the same nightmare he’s had for months, he looks around, confirming his surroundings. The light patter of rain hit his window, the sound alone trying to pull him back to sleep. Checking the time on the clock behind him, 7:48 PM, he pulls back the covers and starts to make his way downstairs, quickly pulling a shirt on and grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the dresser. 

Descending the stairs, he looks down at the scene in front of him. You’re sitting at the dining table with Alfred, participating in small talk as you eat dinner. A plate is set beside you, waiting for Bruce. His presence isn’t known until Alfred’s voice greets him, and a small peck is placed onto the crown of your head. Looking up at Bruce, you can tell he just woke up, his hair is messy and his eyes are still plagued with drowsiness. Grabbing his hand, you remind him of the plate made for him, a teasing tone poking through your voice, “Are you going to sit down? Or are you just going to keep standing there, my love?” 

“I have to go back to work,” he takes a breath, “there’s too much to do, I’m sorry.” 

You take this as your queue to follow him, grabbing his plate of food as you rise from your chair. Before you leave Alfred at the table, you exchange a knowing look, you both know that he won’t stop helping those who live in this city, you just wish he would take a break sometimes. His workload has doubled since you’ve been ‘out of commission’. It’s frustrating watching him stay out another hour or two to make up for the time he lost without you there, but Bruce would rather stay out all night than let you join him again. 

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you make your way down to Bruce’s area beneath the building. As you enter, Bruce makes a beeline toward his monitors and paperwork sprawled out along the desk. Following behind him, you place the plate down and start to work alongside him. Since Bruce hasn’t let you join him out at night, you’ve convinced him to let you at least do investigative work at home. Before he agreed, you swore you were going crazy. Of course, you went out often, but the thrill of working on something became your drug, and without it, you were having withdrawals. And as much as Bruce didn’t want to admit it, you were good at this, and he needed another set of hands to go over the things he’s collected. 

After an hour of rummaging through some evidence Bruce has collected in a missing persons case, you can see that his body tenses, coming to a realization. Since you worked together, you caught it just a moment after he did. Something isn’t adding up. There’s an entire chunk of information missing, and coincidently, it’s the last piece you need before coming to a definitive answer on this case. “I have to go back,” his eyes are still glued to the screen in front of him. 

You’re quick to interject, “But you just got back, you haven’t even eaten anything for Christ's sake. You can go out later.” 

“No, I can’t,” he rises from his chair, “I’ll figure it out.”

“Well, you would’ve figured out what we were missing if you just let me go out there with you,” you’re frustrations rising enough to confront him about what had been on your mind all evening. 

He raises his hand to rub his eyes in frustration, “Fuck (Y/N), you know why I can’t let that happen.” 

“It happened so long ago, it doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” his voice raises an octave, the sudden volume change echoing throughout the room, “it haunts me.”

Anger flows throughout your body, the sound of your voice surpassing his, “It was my fault, Bruce! I let my guard down, I wasn’t careful.”

“Do you know how scared I was,” he turns to you, “ I saw you laying in a pool of your blood and I thought you were dead.”

You stand up, now closer to eye level as you look up at him, “I’m sorry, but you don’t think I’ve learned from this too? I’m the one who went through all of this. I’ve laid in a bed for six fucking months, thinking about what I could’ve changed and what I could’ve done differently. When I was lying on that street, I thought Joker would take advantage of me, and somehow that scared me more than the thought of what bones he broke. You can’t save everyone, Batman.”

Your words end the conversation, and seeing Bruce stand there speechless was your signal to leave. You don’t care if he was going to respond, you just needed to get out. It wasn’t long before you put on your gear and warmed up your motorcycle, the familiar sound of the engine roaring to life brings a smile to your face. You waste no time in heading out into the biting air of Gotham in November, anxious to do what you’ve been waiting and craving to do for the past six months. 

As soon as Bruce hears your motorcycle rev to life, he immediately rushes over to put on the gear he took off not even twenty-four hours prior. Climbing onto his own motorcycle, he follows loosely behind you. 

It doesn’t take long for you to reach the location of where the evidence was collected. Entering through a side window, you can feel eyes bore into your back, no doubt your boyfriend peering from a spot above you. Bruce is not only looking into the window you climbed in but also the surroundings around you, making sure it’s clear. 

It doesn’t take long for you to find the golden ticket of this entire investigation, a SIM card, smaller than a penny. Standing in the alley you call out, “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, babe.” Jumping down from his hiding spot in a nearby fire escape, he makes his way towards you and grabs the SIM card from your fingers. “You’re welcome,” you spit out. 

Inspecting it, he asks, “Where was it?”

“Under the filing cabinet, someone slid it in between the cracks of the metal,” you mutter, sneaking behind him and snatching back the device before walking away. 

Bruce grabs your wrist softly, stopping you in your tracks, “I’m sorry…for holding you back. You don’t need to be sheltered and you proved that.”

Looking over your shoulder at him, you speak, “I never did, Bruce.” A beat goes by before you turn and kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you back at home.” 

--author's note: HEY GUYS!! i was 100% supposed to post this on halloween or the day after, but work kept me away from finishing this:( writing for pattinson!bruce specifically is so hard, because wdym he's an introvert and is awkward and probably very awkward and a loser??? im so used to writing babes like peter, so this was fun to try! don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!!! my asks/inbox is OPENNN, so send me anything you would like to see on this blog and i will get back asap...ok bye ily<3333

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

It's Not Funny

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader

Summary: When you are kidnapped by the Joker, Jason is frantic to get you back. But once he finds you, things might be worse than they first appear....

Word Count: 1590

TW: angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, poison

Notes: A big thanks to @writercole who requested "Jason Todd with the words afraid, funny, and sleep." Not sure if this was what you were expecting, but I really like what I came up with! I hope you do too! 🥰

Jason tears open another door, curses loudly as he sees the empty room, and takes off down the hall for the next door. He has to find you. Soon. The Joker had grabbed you on your way home from work and there was no telling what he had done to you since then. And if he is too late…

Wrenching open the next door, he freezes as he notices a motionless body crumpled in the corner of the room. The person’s back is towards the door, but he immediately recognizes your work uniform. He is across the room in three long strides, yanking off his helmet, dropping to his knees and sliding the last few inches towards your body. As gently as he can, he rolls you over and lifts you into his lap. 

Physically, he can’t see anything wrong with you. Your hair is slightly messier than usual, your makeup is smudged and running (presumedly from your tears), and the sleeve of your uniform is slightly torn. But otherwise, you look like you could be sleeping peacefully back home in your shared bed. 

Running his fingers across your cheek, Jason murmurs, “Baby, please wake up. Come on, open those gorgeous eyes for me. Or how about one little smile?” But you don’t stir. You just hang limply in his arms, your head tilted back towards the ceiling. 

Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Jason tries again. “Hey…. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, but right now, I need you. I need you to wake up and tell me you’re alright. Please.”

He buries his face in your neck, breathing in the lingering traces of the perfume he got you for your birthday. He remembers laying in bed this morning watching you get ready and smiling at him in the mirror as you applied it. Had that really only been this morning? The Joker had only taken you a little over an hour ago, but it seems to Jason that anything that came before he got the call was a lifetime ago.

“J..Jay?”

Jason’s head snaps up. You had managed to lift your head slightly and are staring at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes. He has never felt such relief in his life. He presses his lips firmly against yours before muttering, “Oh, there’s my girl. God, you scared me for a minute there.”

You had kissed him back almost on instinct but now blink in confusion as you struggle to sit up. “Wh-what happened? Where are we?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was at work. I had just finished my shift and was walking home when—” Your eyes double in size as you bolt upright, the terror of remembering what had happened clearing the fog still clinging to you. “Oh my god! He found me! The Joker! Jason, he grabbed me when I was just outside the apartment.” 

Your fingernails dig painfully into Jason’s arm to the point they break skin, but Jason ignores it. Instead, he runs his hand over the back of your head and softly murmurs, “I know. I’m so sorry, baby. He left a message for Gordan who then called Bruce. That was about an hour ago. I tried to find you sooner, I’m sorry.”

He started to hang his head, but you tilt his chin up. “No, it’s okay. You found me. That’s what matters.” You let out a little hiccupy laugh of relief but then your face falls. “But how did he find out about me? I thought we were careful. No one outside of your family were supposed to know we were dating.”

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I swear to you, I will find out and it will be dealt with.”

You flinch at the cold darkness in his tone, but don’t ask him to elaborate. You tolerate his more aggressive approach to vigilantism, but Jason knows you don’t approve. However, whoever tipped the Joker off put your life at risk. And for that, they would pay. 

Letting out another small nervous half-sigh, half-laugh, you shift in Jason’s arms. “Can we get out of here? I don’t know where he went or when he’s coming back.”

“Of course.” Jason helps you carefully to your feet. “I’m gonna take you to the Batcave just to have Alfred look you over and make sure everything is alright.”

“I’m really tired. Can you just take me home?” You lean your head against his shoulder as if to illustrate your point. 

Jason kisses the top of your head, takes your hand, and leads you towards the door. “It won’t take long. Just draw some blood, a quick once over, then we can go home. But I need you to stay awake until then. I can’t have you falling asleep on my motorcycle.”

You laugh, the sound loud and boisterous. But almost immediately, you freeze, your hand slipping from Jason’s as you stop walking. In a tiny, quivering voice, you whisper, “Jay…”

The tone of your voice has him on edge. Turning back to you, he asks, “What? What’s wrong?”

“That wasn’t funny.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, so? I didn’t mean for it to be.”

“And I didn’t mean to laugh.”

Just then, another loud chuckle escapes your lips and you clamp your hands over your mouth, your eyes wide in shock. Jason’s blood runs cold as the truth of the situation dawns on him. Taking your face in his hands, he examines you closely. “Did he spray you with anything at any point?”

“Um, yeah. He brought me here and he went on a long monologue–” snort “–but I don’t really remember it. Then he sprayed something in my face and–” giggle “–I passed out. The next thing I remember I was–” chuckle “–waking up in your arms.” 

A loud burst of laughter tears from your mouth. It sounds like your normal laughter but there is a slight hysteric, fearful undertone to it that sends a chill up Jason’s spine. Your lip begins to tremble as you gaze up at him through damp eyes and whimper, “Jason, what’s happening to me?”

Jason didn’t know what to say. While he has figured out what the Joker did to you, he isn’t sure how much to reveal. How much will just add to your already obvious terror. So, instead, he says, “It’s gonna be okay. Just let me call Bruce, and he’ll be able to fix this. Wait right here and I’ll be right back, I promise.”

You nod as another fit of laughter overtakes you, your face momentarily morphed into a wide, toothy grin. But as soon as it passes, the fear returns. However, this time it doesn’t last long. Even before Jason can walk away to make the call, you begin to laugh again. There isn’t much time….

Jason squeezes your hand then hurries off to the far corner of the room. There, he pulls out his phone and quickly dials a number from memory. The phone begins to ring. And ring. And ring.

He curses to himself and mutters under his breath, “Answer your phone, goddamn it.”

Finally – finally – he hears the phone pick up followed by a gruff, “Anything?”

“I found her. We’re in the abandoned office building next to the river by the park. But you need to get here now.” From behind him, the laughter has become almost constant. And in those few brief seconds when it stops, he can hear you sobbing in fear.

“Did he hurt her?”

Jason takes a deep breath as he tries to steady his voice. “She was dosed with Joker venom.”

Silence. Then, after a beat, “Which version?”

“I don’t know. But even if it’s the non-lethal stuff—” Jason can’t say it. He has seen the horrific aftermath of the victims of the Joker venom more times than he cared to remember. And even those who survived it usually ended up with brain damage or worse if they didn’t receive the antidote in time. “Will you just get your ass over here? I know you always carry the cure with you for emergencies.” 

“I’m on my way. But Jason–”

“I know,” he snaps, his voice cracking. “Just get here.”

He hangs up, turns back to you, and his heart sinks. Your hands are clasped tightly over your mouth yet the constant almost inhuman laughter can still be heard spilling from your lips. Jason can see the first signs of the manic, unnatural smile the serum causes starting to peek out from behind your hands, though it seems impossible for someone to be able to smile that widely. And your eyes… your eyes are the worst part. Because without the smile, all Jason can see is the absolute terror shining there. Unable to stop laughing long enough to speak, your eyes plead with him to help you as tears stream down your face but until Bruce arrives he knows there’s nothing he can do. 

Walking over, he pulls you into his arms. Your entire body is shaking with the force of your laughter. He tries to hold you still as much as he can, but it does little to help. Soon, you’ll start convulsing and gasping for air, but the venom won’t let you stop laughing enough to breathe properly. If Jason doesn’t get you help by then, you’ll suffocate on your own laughter. Just one more victim on the Joker’s ever-growing list. 

Squeezing his eyes as tightly as he can, Jason silently begs.

Please, Bruce. Hurry.

Taglist: @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @zebralover, @lolzghost, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club, @blue-aconite

[visionsofmagic]

day 16: bruce wayne [power play]

࿓ synopsis • the game you play takes a different route in which you try to dominate him, but, he doesn’t allow you.

―❦ nsfw, dominance/submission, roughness, licking, marking, wrist holding, short, f!reader, brat!reader, riding, begging, pet names, ‘is all I guess? • 0.7k • he's my favorite dc character and the idea popped into my mind because he's looking so dom! enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“who’s in control now, love?” he asks as he pounds into you, hands holding yours above your head as your back arches onto his bare chest, filthy voices leaving you one by one since it’s too much to keep silent – he’s trying to gain it from you after all, wanting to make you scream his name louder with each of his deep, hungry thrusts that hit the exact spot that drives you crazy in every time.

the question is a reference to what you said before being in this situation; leaning down on the mattress, wrists inside his palms, breasts bouncing shamelessly and even hitting his chest from time to time, legs wide open, pussy soaking wet enough to make the white color of the sheets goes grey because of how much it is, legs shaking yet still having the strength to stay on his back, hugging him from there only to bring his body closer to yours as if it’s possible – as if he’s not already deep buried inside you, fucking you roughly because he has something to prove to you – to dig it into your pathetic mind as he said before.

he’s angry – a little bit, with the lust that flows inside his veins until it reaches the tip of his thick cock – using it to shove it into you mercilessly.

the feelings are there due to you – being a little brat and trying to take control while riding him a while ago, teasing about how his dick dripping, pale face is full of redness, breathtaking with a rapid way, and even sweating – only you can make the vigilante sweat like this – the reasons why he is rough now.

with the power you had at that moment, your body moved without your mind acknowledging it, making you look down at him, taking control, riding him so slowly to make him beg for you to move, to fuck him, yet, bruce who knows you better than anyone else, including you, understood what you were trying to do, especially when your hand tried to hold his neck – with sudden movement, he gripped your wrists, turning your body over, hovering above you as he mocked you – showing the dominance he has on you – not yours – his.

power play ended when he began to fuck you ruthlessly.

his question remains unanswered – he doesn’t seek one either, he just enjoys watching how messy you’re getting under him, ready to beg more when his hips slow down – and nearly stops as he fucks you leisurely, taking his time, and even having a ghost smirk on his face. 

and when you look at him, your vision is blurry yet witnessing his lustful expression, representing of the dominant side he has on you, you know he waits for you to beg – to cry. weren’t it for your aching pussy that is in need to be fucked by bruce, you would stay still, yet, you have no brain at all – only a greedy wet pussy and passion mixed with love.

“bruce –“ his name comes out of your parted lips on its own – pure instinct. “ohh – bruce!”

“yes, my pretty slut, what’s wrong?”

“move – aghh – please, move already! nee – ohh – need you to move!”

leaving your wrists free, his hands positioned on your hips, holding it strongly, ready to bounce into you with all his strength, his weight can be felt on you, sending a different sense of both pain and pleasure at the same time.

“look who’s begging now –“ he teases, kneeling down until his lips touch your neck, biting it – licking it so that he can leave marks on you- bigger and more efficient ones than yours that you left on his entire body before he took control. he enjoyed being under you, yet, the delight of having you under him is far greater than it. “tell me – that I am the one who is in control over you, not you over me,” he lowers down, licking and kissing your exposed body gladly, reaching until its tongue travels on your hardened breasts. 

pushing you against his hot tongue, you answer, feeling his cock leaving your pussy slowly, “you! bruce – ohh – you!” “good girl.” he says lastly, then, pushing his hip further, the cock fills your warm walls entirely with a powerful thrust and he doesn’t stop – he thrusts into you with a great pace and power that you no longer remember the power play – letting him do whatever he wants to do with you until he’s satisfied.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @chloee0x0 *lots of kisses!*

[hanasnx]

sugar daddy

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: posted this on my dc blog before i deleted the entire blog so i’m reposting it here WARNINGS: established relationship | daddy kink | size difference | impact play: ass smack.

Unsure of how you’d earned it, BRUCE WAYNE took you on a shopping trip. All day you’d been dragging him around, letting him pay for your bags upon bags of items with his shiny black card. You can’t help it, staring up at him with those doe eyes he knows so well, it brings a proud curl to his lips. He knows what’s earned, he can read it on your flirtatious body language. How you sway your hips in front of him, eyeing him over your shoulder with the tip of your fingernail wedged between your teeth. Nails he paid for.

“Happy?” he remarks, and you nod with a coy grin.

“Mhm.” you hum in affirmation. “Thanks, Daddy.” you emphasize the nickname, proving to him you’re doing this to mess with him. The thought process appears in his eyes, and a competitive allure blooms within them. To reward you for your behavior, his massive hand swings out to swat your little ass. You squeak, and scold him with a look of disbelief in his direction. He pays it no mind, paying for all of the product you picked out.

On the way out, he clasps your hand in his, nearly enveloping it. A breeze from the open door slips through your legs, and you realize how people must be able to see the red flash of your panties right now. You wiggle your hips as you tug the hemline of your little dress back down.

You feel a chastising squeeze to your hand. “Don’t fidget.”

“Can’t help it, Daddy, you rode my dress up.”

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Slumber Party?

A/N: This has no point. None at all besides cuddles and fluff :) Featuring a teensy bit of Bruce POV at the end.

Tags: Jason Todd x f!reader, Jason Todd x you, Jason Todd x Reader, Jason Todd, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Batfam, Batfamily, DC Imagines, Red Hood x f!reader, Red Hood x you, Red Hood x Reader, The Joker, Death in the Family, Lazarus Pits, Nightwing, Robin, Damian Wayne, Richard Grayson, Dick Grayson, Batfamily fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of grief/loss/depression

Summary: There's no better cure to a hard day than cuddles and ramen noodles.

Word count: 2.6k+

Grief is a funny thing.

Sometimes you feel it acutely, perhaps from the initial loss of someone close to you or ending a relationship. Other times it’s a chronic ache, visiting now and then to remind you of someone or something and drag your day to a halt. 

Today, you were feeling the latter. 

It’s been over four years since your brother died, and the pain is manageable now. In the beginning it was like losing a piece of yourself- it was losing a piece of yourself. Now, you think about him every day and even laugh at something which reminds you of him when your family gets together. It isn’t painful anymore, and you’ve accepted what’s happened and the fact that no one can change it. Overall, your heart did what hearts do. They heal around the hole left in them, and you push on to the next day. 

You hadn’t had a bad day in a long while, and suppose you were due for one. The young brother and sister playing tag down the street were overflowing with youthful innocence, their excited shouts bouncing off concrete sidewalks and ancient brick buildings. When you realized the boy shared a name with your brother though, the pain crept back into the corners of your psyche. It wallowed there before swelling and penetrating the fenced-in part of your heart, tugging at the exposed heartstrings. 

Hence, your current position. You shuffle down the grocery store aisle, one Airpod shoved into your ears and hood up while some celebrity podcast rambles to fill the void. A sniffle escapes without proper permission, and you hastily wipe your face with your sleeve. Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink rapidly while tossing a whole case of instant ramen into the cart. If there was anything you wanted to do, it was to sit on the couch with your electric blanket and eat shitty ramen while crying your eyes out. 

Of course, nothing could be that easy. 

Footsteps approach from behind, and you tense automatically. They’re short strides, and you discern it’s a young person fairly easily. Slowly, you lift the hood from your head and turn, furrowing your brow at the pint-sized person. 

“Damian? What are you doing here?”

The youngest Wayne raises one aristocratic brow, wrinkling the smooth olive skin on his forehead. “Shopping, obviously.”

He launches himself up effortlessly, landing inside of your shopping cart. Of fucking course he does, because the big carts you hate pushing were the only ones left, and -oh yeah- he was Batman’s offspring. 

“Seriously?” You groan and drop your head to the handle. “Dami, I’m really-”

“Sad? Upset? In need of comfort?” 

This time you turn the whole cart around- Damian included- to face the second member of your pity party. Dick Grayson leans casually against the shelves, dressed in dark jeans and a blue sweatshirt, black hair tousled perfectly as per usual. 

“God, you too? Can’t even shop without being bothered by your cult.”  You bite out, snatching a package of tortillas from the shelf near Dick’s arm. 

It was a bit more hostile than you intend, but you’re not in the mood for a Wayne Family intervention at the moment. You’ve had enough since Jason had come back from the dead. 

“Hey, we really were just shopping and saw a familiar face. You looked sad, so Damian wanted to check on you.” Dick pushes away from the shelf.

And if that wasn’t the biggest load of shit you’d ever heard. 

“Really? You two? Shopping?”

“Alfred is visiting family out of the country.”

You narrow your eyes. “And they entrusted shopping to the two members of the family least  likely to step foot in the kitchen?”

“Tt. Nonsense. They entrusted shopping to me, since I am the only one capable of making and fulfilling a list.” Damian glances at his adopted brother. “Grayson is only here because I required a driver.”

“Uh-huh… Well, it’s always nice to see you guys, but I gotta go.” You haul Damian out of the cart by his armpits, eliciting a squawk of protest that almost breaks your eardrum. “Things to do.”

“Like crying by yourself at the store?” Dick presses. 

You begin to push the cart away. “Goodbye Dick. Goodbye, Damian.”

----

Back at your apartment, the TV blares a depressing Netflix documentary while you put your ramen in a bowl. While the depression you’d felt at first had ebbed away, being alone was not exactly helping the issue. Now it seems that each TV show or movie you attempt has something to remind you of the pain. 

Ramen was the only comforting thing you sought. 

While you were praying that Jason would be over soon, you refuse to admit it. Any text to him would cause worry, and the last thing you want is Jason to be in a hurry while doing his nightly business. With your luck, he would channel it into an explosive to take down a city block full of mob members and cause an all-out war. Maybe behead some druglords. Or torture a up-and coming criminal mastermind. 

Or something else extreme. You’re not 100% accurate when it comes to predicting Jason’s pit-influenced creative thinking.

You continue on your journey back to the couch, and stoop to plug in your electric blanket. Tinny television speakers ramble on about the mistreatment of killer whales in captivity while you tuck yourself into the couch.

“Seclusion isn’t the ideal treatment for grief, you know.” 

You leap up from the couch to face the fire escape window. Darkness is settling over Gotham, but you can see the faint glow of two lenses outside the open window. Damian nudges it open enough to crawl in, changing from a clumsy tumble into a graceful flip faster than you can blink. 

“You’re breaking into my apartment now?” You don’t deign to give him a reaction, simply plopping down on the couch. As much as you hate to admit it, the adopted Wayne boys were something of brothers to you. Pushing them away at the store was nothing more than to protect yourself from embarrassment, but you can’t run away now. 

“It wasn’t breaking in.” Damian said as he moves to sit beside you on the couch. “Your fire escape is always open.”

You grunt in answer and decide to slurp on ramen instead. Damian flicks his cape boredly and focuses on the TV. 

“Are you watching a film about orcas?”

It’s kind of sweet, Damian sitting with you in an attempt to soothe the pain you were feeling. He might be Bruce Wayne’s son, but there’s a flicker of something more in the young man. 

“Documentary.” You mumble around a mouthful of noodles. “Think ‘s called Blackfish.”

“Perfect.” Damian declares. “I enjoy educational programs. I will watch it with you.”

Your heart flickers at the statement. So young, yet striving to be the most intelligent creature he can. But if there was one thing you know, it’s that where there’s a Robin, there’s a Batman not far behind. 

“Where’s your father?”

Damian huffs and falls back into the couch cushions. “Meeting with Gordon.”

You nod. “I’m sure he’s not thrilled about where you’re at.”

It wasn’t that you and Bruce didn’t like each other. Moreso the fact that he disapproved of Jason’s actions, and you were aligned with Jason. Therefore, you got the same end of the stick as the Red Hood: the shitty side. 

“Tt. His petty disagreements with Todd are none of my concern.” He answers haughtily, “Besides, he has no direct quarrel with you. Nor would he, since I am helping you.”

You look away from the whales. “Are you?”

As usual, the sarcasm soars over Damian’s head. “Of course. You’re having a day of mourning, and as I said: it’s unhealthy to be alone.”

 You ignore the pang of sadness and smile at him. “You know, Damian, you’re my favorite of the Wayne wards.”

He scoffs in the most menacing way an eleven-year old can. “We both know that’s a lie.” 

After a good ruffling of his ornery black locks, you lean back into your side of the couch and collect your rapidly cooling bowl to finish it. 

The documentary continues on, and you zone out. Tapping away at Twitter and Instagram draws your attention, and by the time the apartment door opens, you’re dozing off. Your phone has slipped from your grip and the afghan blanket has been tugged across the couch. A warm weight leans into your side, and you decide moving isn’t an option for the foreseeable future. 

Somewhere in your subconscious, you recognize the sound of the shower turning on and off. A faint haze of humidity wafts across the apartment, followed by a gentle brush of fingers over your hair. 

Eyelashes flutter against your cheeks at the touch, and you observe Jason hovering above you. His hair is shiny and dripping, black tangles with white as it hangs over his eyes. A black t-shirt clings to his damp chest, and sweatpants adorn his lower half.

“Hey, you.” You yawn, leaning your cheek into the kiss Jason lays there. 

Awareness bleeds into you, bringing the sensation of another smaller body near you to the forefront of your mind. Much to your surprise Damian is asleep, body slumped against your shoulder and domino mask discarded on the coffee table. You recall his dedication to keep you company earlier in the night, and smile softly.

“Big Bird is on his way to pick up Demon.” Jason opens his mouth to continue, but stops to stare at the window. “Fuckin’ birds. He’s here already.” 

Sure enough, the same window Damian crawled through is now occluded by the lithe shape of Nightwing. One dramatic somersault later, he manages to land himself on the couch between you and Damian. The youngest Wayne opens his eyes with a scowl but lets Nightwing toss an arm around his shoulders.

“Hello again.” He chirps, then looks to Jason. “Jaybird.” 

“Dickwing. You’re on my couch.” He grits in response.

Dick smiles innocently at his foster brother, leaning a head of wild black locks onto your shoulder. His arms wrap around you in a loose hug. “Not your couch. I am cuddling your girl though.”

The sheer stupidity of their rivalry draws a giggle from your throat. You reach a hand up to Jason’s waist, tugging at his belt loops. 

“It’s alright, babe. I love you more than him.” You reassure, “Especially since you don’t stalk me at the grocery store.”

Jason stiffens, even with your playful tone. “You keeping tabs on us now, Wing?”

Dick pulls off his domino to roll his eyes at Jason. “Couldn’t be bothered. Dami and I had to do the shopping ‘cause Alfred’s on vacation. She was the one across town and crying in the cereal aisle.”

You drop your head against the top of Dick’s with a heavy sigh.

Teal eyes bore into you, suddenly filled with concern. “What happened, Bug?”

Swallowing the trepidation the claws into your throat, you look up at Jason. 

“I was just having a bad morning. Saw some kids that reminded me of my brother.” You grasp Jason’s hand, rubbing gentle circles onto it. “Damian stopped by tonight so I had company.”

“And now, I’m here! It’s like a family get-together.” Dick hums with excessive enthusiasm. “You should join the party, Jay.”

While Dick Grayson was annoying at his worst, he was a sweetheart at his best. All of the Wayne wards were, in their own way. Him being an advocate for Jason through the toughest times had brought the three of you close- no matter how much Jason would deny it.

“For once, I agree with Dick. You really should join.” You wiggle free from Dick’s hold, reaching your arms up to tug at Jason’s. “If you dont, I’ll be forced to cuddle Damian instead. Or Dick, if I’m desperate.”

Sleepily, Damian pipes up. “I shall not be used as someone’s teddy bear.”

This prompts Dick to let you go and instead rotate to gather Damian in his arms. “Too late baby bird. You’re the best teddy bear.”

“Unhand me at once, Grayson!” 

Much to your delight, while the other two argue, Jason relents. And that is how the four of you end up nestled into your old couch, Jason against the armrest pouting. You’re cuddled into his right side with an arm tossed around your shoulders, while Dick sits with his back on the opposite armrest and feet tossed across your lap. You choose a random documentary and press play, letting it drone on over the relentless bickering. 

“Touch me with your feet, Dickwing and I’ll break ‘em.”

“Relax, Jaybird. I washed them last week.”

“Yeah? Well I washed my machete when I got home tonight.”

“I oiled my sword the night before last.”

“Remind me why the fuck Bruce has a stick in his ass about a gun but he lets you carry that?”

It’s soothing, you realize, tucked in between three of Gotham’s heroes- or two vigilantes and a crime lord, as it were. Their bickering chases away the bits of grief that still litter your mind, and you relax a little more into Jason’s warm body as the minutes tick by.

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

Bruce Wayne hasn’t spoken to Bug in over a year. 

Not since the day after Jason tried to force him into killing the Joker. Since Bruce threw a batarang at his second son’s throat and the building exploded.

And, in that case, he might have deserved the tongue-lashing. He’d pledged to let Jason and her be- to let them live and enjoy each other as long as the Red Hood stayed in his territory. Bruce had followed that pledge to a tee too, until this morning. 

Damian and Dick were nowhere to be found after patrols, and though it wasn’t unusual for them to do their own thing- brotherly bonding, Dick had called it- but it was unusual for them not to check in. Tim was sick tonight, leaving Bruce with an odd sense of melancholy as he traversed the streets. Thus, when four-thirty rolled around, Bruce found himself hopping rooftops to Bug’s apartment. 

The fire escape is rickety, stained with red splotches that Bruce doesn’t want to believe are dried blood. It rattles against the building as he turns to the window and kneels to peer through the glass. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

His heart does a strange sort of leap as he sees two- three- of his boys curled up on the couch. Both outer seats have the footrests extended, and pillows littered the floor. Jason is stretched out on the far side, closest to the door. One hand is tucked behind his head, and the other is wrapped around Bug’s waist where she’s tucked into his side, legs twined with his on the recliner. Dick, unsurprisingly, takes up the most space, head pillowed far opposite from Jason and legs tossed over Bug’s lap. To top it off, Damian has managed to pile himself in the middle, arms wrapped around one of Bug’s and body pressed between Dick’s legs and the back of the couch. 

There are three domino masks and a broken red hood mask on the coffee table, though any identifiable costumes are covered by the blankets. Bruce winces at the amount of guns he sees discarded on the kitchen island and the crowbar propped near Jason’s end of the couch. 

He gnaws on the idea of sliding the window open, drumming his gloves gently on the glass. Eventually Bruce straightens, taking a deep breath and turning towards the east where dawn is just beginning to break over the ocean. His kids are safe, Gotham is quiet. 

And Bruce can deal with that. So he lets his kids sleep a little longer.

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

Masterlist | Send me ideas

[thebigbadbatswife]

the most x reader lyrics ever honestly

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

It's Not Funny

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader

Summary: When you are kidnapped by the Joker, Jason is frantic to get you back. But once he finds you, things might be worse than they first appear....

Word Count: 1594

TW: angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, poison

Notes: A big thanks to @writercole who requested "Jason Todd with the words afraid, funny, and sleep." Not sure if this was what you were expecting, but I really like what I came up with! I hope you do too! 🥰

Jason tears open another door, curses loudly as he sees the empty room, and takes off down the hall for the next door. He has to find you. Soon. The Joker had grabbed you on your way home from work and there was no telling what he had done to you since then. And if he is too late…

Wrenching open the next door, he freezes as he notices a motionless body crumpled in the corner of the room. The person’s back is towards the door, but he immediately recognizes your work uniform. He is across the room in three long strides, yanking off his helmet, dropping to his knees and sliding the last few inches towards your body. As gently as he can, he rolls you over and lifts you into his lap. 

Physically, he can’t see anything wrong with you. Your hair is slightly messier than usual, your makeup is smudged and running (presumedly from your tears), and the sleeve of your uniform is slightly torn. But otherwise, you look like you could be sleeping peacefully back home in your shared bed. 

Running his fingers across your cheek, Jason murmurs, “Baby, please wake up. Come on, open those gorgeous eyes for me. Or how about one little smile?” But you don’t stir. You just hang limply in his arms, your head tilted back towards the ceiling. 

Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Jason tries again. “Hey…. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, but right now, I need you. I need you to wake up and tell me you’re alright. Please.”

He buries his face in your neck, breathing in the lingering traces of the perfume he got you for your birthday. He remembers laying in bed this morning watching you get ready and smiling at him in the mirror as you applied it. Had that really only been this morning? The Joker had only taken you a little over an hour ago, but it seems to Jason that anything that came before he got the call was a lifetime ago.

“J..Jay?”

Jason’s head snaps up. You had managed to lift your head slightly and are staring at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes. He has never felt such relief in his life. He presses his lips firmly against yours before muttering, “Oh, there’s my girl. God, you scared me for a minute there.”

You had kissed him back almost on instinct but now blink in confusion as you struggle to sit up. “Wh-what happened? Where are we?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was at work. I had just finished my shift and was walking home when—” Your eyes double in size as you bolt upright, the terror of remembering what had happened clearing the fog still clinging to you. “Oh my god! He found me! The Joker! Jason, he grabbed me when I was just outside the apartment.” 

Your fingernails dig painfully into Jason’s arm to the point they break skin, but Jason ignores it. Instead, he runs his hand over the back of your head and softly murmurs, “I know. I’m so sorry, baby. He left a message for Gordan who then called Bruce. That was about an hour ago. I tried to find you sooner, I’m sorry.”

He started to hang his head, but you tilt his chin up. “No, it’s okay. You found me. That’s what matters.” You let out a little hiccupy laugh of relief but then your face falls. “But how did he find out about me? I thought we were careful. No one outside of your family were supposed to know we were dating.”

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I swear to you, I will find out and it will be dealt with.”

You flinch at the cold darkness in his tone, but don’t ask him to elaborate. You tolerate his more aggressive approach to vigilantism, but Jason knows you don’t approve. However, whoever tipped the Joker off put your life at risk. And for that, they would pay. 

Letting out another small nervous half-sigh, half-laugh, you shift in Jason’s arms. “Can we get out of here? I don’t know where he went or when he’s coming back.”

“Of course.” Jason helps you carefully to your feet. “I’m gonna take you to the Batcave just to have Alfred look you over and make sure everything is alright.”

“I’m really tired. Can you just take me home?” You lean your head against his shoulder as if to illustrate your point. 

Jason kisses the top of your head, takes your hand, and leads you towards the door. “It won’t take long. Just draw some blood, a quick once over, then we can go home. But I need you to stay awake until then. I can’t have you falling asleep on my motorcycle.”

You laugh, the sound loud and boisterous. But almost immediately, you freeze, your hand slipping from Jason’s as you stop walking. In a tiny, quivering voice, you whisper, “Jay…”

The tone of your voice has him on edge. Turning back to you, he asks, “What? What’s wrong?”

“That wasn’t funny.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, so? I didn’t mean for it to be.”

“And I didn’t mean to laugh.”

Just then, another loud chuckle escapes your lips and you clamp your hands over your mouth, your eyes wide in shock. Jason’s blood runs cold as the truth of the situation dawns on him. Taking your face in his hands, he examines you closely. “Did he spray you with anything at any point?”

“Um, yeah. He brought me here and he went on a long monologue–” snort “–but I don’t really remember it. Then he sprayed something in my face and–” giggle “–I passed out. The next thing I remember I was–” chuckle “–waking up in your arms.” 

A loud burst of laughter tears from your mouth. It sounds like your normal laughter but there is a slight hysteric, fearful undertone to it that sends a chill up Jason’s spine. Your lip begins to tremble as you gaze up at him through damp eyes and whimper, “Jason, what’s happening to me?”

Jason didn’t know what to say. While he has figured out what the Joker did to you, he isn’t sure how much to reveal. How much will just add to your already obvious terror. So, instead, he says, “It’s gonna be okay. Just let me call Bruce, and he’ll be able to fix this. Wait right here and I’ll be right back, I promise.”

You nod as another fit of laughter overtakes you, your face momentarily morphed into a wide, toothy grin. But as soon as it passes, the fear returns. However, this time it doesn’t last long. Even before Jason can walk away to make the call, you begin to laugh again. There isn’t much time….

Jason squeezes your hand then hurries off to the far corner of the room. There, he pulls out his phone and quickly dials a number from memory. The phone begins to ring. And ring. And ring.

He curses to himself and mutters under his breath, “Answer your phone, goddamn it.”

Finally – finally – he hears the phone pick up followed by a gruff, “Anything?”

“I found her. We’re in the abandoned office building next to the river by the park. But you need to get here now.” From behind him, the laughter has become almost constant. And in those few brief seconds when it stops, he can hear you sobbing in fear.

“Did he hurt her?”

Jason takes a deep breath as he tries to steady his voice. “She was dosed with Joker venom.”

Silence. Then, after a beat, “Which version?”

“I don’t know. But even if it’s the non-lethal stuff—” Jason can’t say it. He has seen the horrific aftermath of the victims of the Joker venom more times than he cared to remember. And even those who survived it usually ended up with brain damage or worse if they didn’t receive the antidote in time. “Will you just get your ass over here? I know you always carry the cure with you for emergencies.” 

“I’m on my way. But Jason–”

“I know,” he snaps, his voice cracking. “Just get here.”

He hangs up, turns back to you, and his heart sinks. Your hands are clasped tightly over your mouth yet the constant almost inhuman laughter can still be heard spilling from your lips. Jason can see the first signs of the manic, unnatural smile the serum causes starting to peek out from behind your hands, though it seems impossible for someone to be able to smile that widely. And your eyes… your eyes are the worst part. Because without the smile, all Jason can see is the absolute terror shining there. Unable to stop laughing long enough to speak, your eyes plead with him to help you as tears stream down your face but until Bruce arrives he knows there’s nothing he can do. 

Walking over, he pulls you into his arms. Your entire body is shaking with the force of your laughter. He tries to hold you still as much as he can, but it does little to help. Soon, you’ll start convulsing and gasping for air, but the venom won’t let you stop laughing enough to breathe properly. If Jason doesn’t get you help by then, you’ll suffocate on your own laughter. Just one more victim on the Joker’s ever-growing list. 

Squeezing his eyes as tightly as he can, Jason silently begs.

Please, Bruce. Hurry.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @tavners, @merlehs, @mayhem24-7forever, @sunshineflowerchild789, @wildbornsiren, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @schaarfyx

[vigilante-izuku]

Y’ALL...hear me out pretending to be a criminal just so the batman will have to catch you...

[ktficworld]

Lies and Lavish

"You finally pull your head out of your studies and go to your long time friend's wedding to relax. And it's going to be alright, even if the infamous five brothers tend to linger around you a little too long, even when you share a past with one of them, even if their darkness is slowly approaching you. It's going to be okay, right?"

Coming soon to your nearest dashboard.