#carmine falcone x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seeds-and-sins · 1 year

Text

The Only Truth Series - There is No Truth

Pairing: Oz “The Penguin” Cobblepot x F!Reader

Rating: T (Curse words, adult themes, mutual pining)

Description: In the beginning, barely months into your undercover gig at the Iceberg Lounge, Oz and you have already grown so close. You are conflicted.

Author’s Note: I promised I would post little one-shots here and there as they came to me. As I post more, I will present everything in one big timeline so that the story is a bit more comprehensive. Anyways, if you haven’t read into the future, the link is posted below under ‘First’. This part takes place in the past, but I suppose it can be read and considered separately.

First

Third

Your shift was almost over when Oz called you up to his office. It was not unusual for him to call upon you. After dropping the former floor manager like a sack of potatoes, and placing you in their stead, Oz and you had gotten much closer. You were glad for it-at first-because it brought you that much closer to your goals in figuring out Intel about the Iceberg Lounge and the going ons of Falcone and Cobblepot and the crime syndicate.

Now, it made you uncomfortable.

Oz, not knowing you were a cop to begin with, was so sweet to you and he treated you with such respect and fondness. Once he placed his trust in you, he was sold on all of you. You figured he didn't do that often with others, asking for your advice and constantly giving you quite major tasks to complete. You worked your butt off to keep that trust intact. It was just overwhelming, because you really enjoyed the praise and the admiration, and you knew you shouldn't. Oz liked you. Oz liked you A LOT. He confided you in over everything and anything and he never relented.

He bought you flowers, took you out to candlelit dinners, you had never seen him treat anyone else the same, and you were starting to wonder what exactly his intentions were.

If he asked you to have sex with him, if he tried to turn you into one of his sugar babies, or trophy girlfriends, what would happen if you denied him? You would never get this close again, and you scarcely thought anyone else would.

So, you put on a happy face, because you thought it was the only choice you had at the moment. You didn't want to disrupt this entire investigation, all because you had flown a little too close to the sun. You tried to keep it friendly and professional, without leading him on, while simultaneously battling with your inner desire to give into all that he was offering.

You should be disgusted by him. You should hate him. He was a criminal. How many of your fellow cops had died by his hands? Or rather, his demands? Or the demands of his boss? He was a monster.

If he knew who you truly were, all of this kindness and sweetness would mean nothing. He didn't care about the real you, he didn't know the real you.

But you couldn't help but start to miss him, he was so warm and jovial and truly a testament in opposition of all the horrible stories you had heard about the man. When you were away from him, you thought about him. You often wondered what he was doing, or if he was thinking about you. These were feelings that did not fit well with the objective of your mission. You weren’t there to have feelings. you shouldn’t. But it was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day.

When you proceeded through the curtain of beads that created some semblance of privacy into his office, you were being bombarded by brooding limbs and a massive build.

"OZ!" You gasped in surprise, his arms locked around you, holding you in place and his scarred lips laid purchase upon your supple cheeks. You hated how much you actually liked it, how the first thing that came into your mind was that this was pleasant. His lips smacked again and again and you feigned a laugh, pressing your hands to his chest and lightly pushing him away. "My goodness, what's gotten you so happy?" He didn't release you, and so you were stuck in his embrace as he grinned down at you and there was a certain charm to that smile that spread a contagious happiness unto you, as much as you tried to contain it.

"It's cause for celebration, honey." He spun you around and it was comical, paired with his little waddle, from his injured knee, but you held on for dear life. Don't let his looks deceive, Oz had a very muscled figure. There was the soft over layer of fat and flesh, but beneath it all he could surely show some strength. "Since I hired you, you've saved me twenty big ones alone."

"Oh," You shrugged, his hands reluctantly rubbing down the length of your arms as he withdrew, clinging to your fingers in a last chance to keep you connected. "Are you sure it was me?"

"Ahh, such a humble little thing. Look at this. Look." He hurried you to the couch, plopping you unceremoniously down beside him. He procured his big book, of accounting and profits and all sort of things involving the money that fluctuated through the Iceberg Lounge. Surprisingly, he was willing to let you look into something so exclusive and vital to his business. More proof that Oz Cobblepot trusted you dearly. It struck a pang of guilt straight through you that you quickly had to stamp down. In your collective laps, he opened the book and flipped through the various pages, till he landed on what he was looking for and pointed at an excel table detailing profit margins for the entire club. "You see, baby. You did this. You should be proud of yourself." You bit your bottom lip shyly, not particularly keen on all of the attention, but the praise did make you light up. You shouldn't be so happy, you were fueling a criminal empire by simply keeping undercover. "I'll have to admit, all the changes you made after I promoted you..." He shrugged, cocking his head down at you. "I was a little skeptical, but you proved me wrong, didn't ya?" You ran your fingers over the page, now wasn't the time to stare too long-it was suspicious. You really don't even know how this was possible. Since you started working at the club, everything you did was just, 'fuck around and find out'. You didn’t know the slightest bit about the night life industry aside from the cheesy videos you had watched on YouTube in preparation of your role at the club. To think that you had made such an influence, in such a short time, despite your lack of experience, was startling.

You couldn’t risk looking too surprise, you were supposed to be a confident businesswoman.

"Well, if you didn't let me make those changes, then none of this would have been possible." You smiled up at him, he tutted under your chin, returning the book to the table and closing it.

"I'm taking you out tonight, hmm? I already made reservations, we're going to the Ocelot." He rose, buttoning up his suit as he did, name dropping a place so extravagant and then slowly walking away as if it was by any means normal.

"The Ocelot?!" You exclaimed, following not far behind as he moved to his vanity and began to put on some of his jewelry. You grabbed his shoulder and squeezed his arm to get his attention. Not that you didn't have it already, but he was very caught up in the excitement of it all. "You can't be serious, Oz. You're going to spend the same amount of money that you were just celebrating, over dinner?!"

"Big Whoop. Let me treat ya'." He smirked down at you, then faced you again, cupping your cheek. "You deserve the best, you know that." You softened, unable to shake the feelings that he incited in you, especially when he was staring at you like that. Like you were the only thing he cared about. It was too much all at once, all the time, with him.

"Oz..." You held his hand. "I-I-I just-"

"Please." If you said 'no', you knew he would be crushed. You were certain someone who carried himself with so much confidence, the slightest bit of rejection would damage his self esteem instantly.

"Okay." You chuckled, he didn't stop himself when he ducked down to your height and pecked your lips. You froze up immediately and he made no time to gage your reaction before he was rushing past you, grabbing his coat off the nearby rack, and bellowing that he had a few things to finish.

"I'll meet you outside, 'kay. I have to go tie a few loose ends and then we'll be free to go."

You were left behind to think about all of the implications that came with that chaste, thoughtless kiss. It was soft and sweet, part of you craved for more and the other part of you screamed that you were too close to the sun. You should ditch Oz altogether and head straight to the station, you had enough information; a few name drops and witnessed drug transactions. That would be enough, right? Why proceed further into the darkness, further into danger?

No.

Something else was going on here. With Maroni gone, the criminal underworld should be struggling, but it wasn't. Business flourished here, at the center of it all, the Iceberg Lounge. So many people had died because of this world, because of their fortunes. You had come so close, closer than anyone had ever come, and probably closer than anyone would ever be.

This entire investigation sat on your shoulders and you couldn't give up now. Not after everything you had done.

Begrudgingly, you gathered up your things in the dressing room and headed to the outside of the club. Oz was most likely going to settle some things with Falcone first before heading out for the night, so you expected you would be waiting for a little bit.

Before spilling outside into the chilly Gotham air, you picked up a short conversation with Max, one of the twins. Considering Max and Charlie were two of Oswald's most trusted henchmen, you often went to them to covertly pry for information. Sometimes you would hit a home run, be it a new location for where Oz would sell his drops, or a new drug route for Falcone. Without offense, Max and Charlie weren't the brightest bulbs in the bunch and they talked all too easily.

You bid Max a farewell, explaining that you would be leaving with Oz for the night. Luckily, he didn't comment or send you any sort of expression that jolted tension through you. You couldn't handle the idea of rumors traveling through the club, rumors could damage your reputation and they could also damage your success thus far in this operation. By name dropping Oz, maybe you guaranteed that Max wouldn't say anything. Oz and you had gone out many times in the past, but this felt different. You knew you weren’t the only one who could see that.

You wrapped your jacket around you tight to ward off the harsh winds. Gotham could get really cold at night, even in the summer, and it was absolutely freezing outside. You weren't in the right attire for a trip to the Ocelot, one of the most prestigious restaurants in all of Gotham. It was owned by the Wayne family, or rather the younger living heir Bruce Wayne. You had only ever seen it's expensive décor and lavish dining experience from the outside, but you had one day dreamed of being able to have that experience for yourself. You never thought you would, considering everything was worth an arm and a leg and a kidney and maybe an eye or a heart transplant. In fact, being undercover had opened you up to experiencing a lot more of the lavish things in life. On a cop’s salary you could barely afford what you needed, under the Penguin’s wing you could have anything you wanted. Needless to say, you'd thought you needed to give up your entire life in order to eat at the Ocelot. Now you were going to go there with the same man you were trying to put behind bars.

Ironic, you supposed. If Oz knew who you really were? Well, you probably would be dead by now.

"Hey, you!" You swear you saw your life flash before your eyes when you spotted him, approaching you, outside the Iceberg Lounge, like an old friend. "My goodness! Is that really you?! It's been what? Eight months? Nine, maybe."

"Kenzie! Oh, gosh!" Your eyes kept nervously flitting back to the metal door leading into the Iceberg Lounge. You felt a heavy weight on your chest, it was as if you couldn't breathe. Could this job get anymore stress inducing? "I must admit..." You feigned a laugh, "I have been very busy."

"With what exactly? Huh?" Kenzie had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, crossing his arms with an arrogance and proudness about him. It aggravated you even further. It was the reason you took this job to begin with. To prove them all wrong. To be better.

You were a nobody. You walked the beat, kept your badge on your chest, you weren't looked at twice, you were looked down on. When the Chief asked for a volunteer for a secretive undercover operation, you felt like you needed to be the first one with your hand up. To prove them all wrong. To be better.

Clearly, you had made the right choice. No one had made it nearly this far. You were doing so good at this point, that the Chief was determined to keep you in as long as possible. What lengths could you go with the success you had? This little interaction could ruin it all.

"Don't think I really need to be telling you 'bout my business..." You gritted your teeth, adjusting your dress down as far as it would go out of discomfort. The dress you wore often in this line of work, short and tight-fitting, made you feel all too exposed in front of this asshole. "Hey? What are you doing here?" The immediate shift in his posture told you everything, and to some extent it lessened your worries. He was a double agent, a crooked cop, a pig paid to dig holes by the man himself. You should have known. It disgusted you, knowing his betrayal, but also, in realizing that your own betrayal was just as bad. The difference being, it was coming from the other side.

You had it a lot worse than he did in this moment. You were on the wrong turf, this wasn't your playground. If you were found out here, you could get killed. Who was to find him out here? No one. This was his home base. If you were both at the GCPD, this would be a completely different story.

"Haha, very funny, toots. You can't tell me your business, I can't tell you mine." You knew it was a risk: at any point in time, Oz could come through that door and your cover would be broken. Kenzie would lay it all out, calling you by your real name, reminiscing over stupid one sided interactions, half of which you don't even think happened. And in Oz knowing that Kenzie was a cop on his payroll, he would put the pieces together and realize you were one too. You acted fast and snatched Kenzie up by the lapels of his brown leather jacket, with a gasp his cigarette dropped from his lips. The momentary surprise was killed with a mischievous smirk and he gave you a once over. "You want a piece of this. Don't make me force you to ask nicely, honey." Your eyes rolled hard and you gripped tighter.

"You think I'm an idiot, don't you? You got bought out by Cobblepot, hmm? That's it, right?" His mustached lip twitched into a scowl, he struggled slightly from your vice grip. The height difference proved difficult, but you were confident you could still knock him on his ass if you needed to. Even in this dress.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You raised an eyebrow at him and he squeezed his eyes shut in aggravation. His larger and stronger hands lifted to grab your forearms. "What are ya' gonna'do 'bout it? I've got more years on you than you could know."

"I'm undercover, you dipshit. One wrong move and I'll relay the message."

"Undercover?" He spat, glaring down at you. "For fucking-"

Creak!

The both of them flinched, immediately releasing each other as if they had been burned. Hobbling from the metal door appeared Oz, his eyes immediately narrowed on the both of you. Your heart jumped into your throat when you thought he might have heard what Kenzie said. You probably should have taken the stealthier approach, but if Kenzie was smart he would understand the situation here. If he ratted to Oz, then you would rat to the GCPD and he could say goodbye to that pension and that job and that stability. While he played goon well into the night, his day job would be gone and Oz would probably give him up knowing that the cops were already so close to home. You wouldn't be surprised if he served some time for his betrayal too: bribery was a criminal offense, for sure.

"Ey, sweetheart..." He greeted softly, narrowed eyes flitting between Kenzie and you. From the corner of your eye, you watched Kenzie awkwardly shift his feet. "Did I-uh-interrupt something?" He asked cautiously, you glanced at Kenzie and shrugged, sending him your harshest glare with your eyes alone.

"Not at all! We were just talking." You crossed your arms and anxiously sidestepped backward, so you weren't so close. "This is Harry-Or..." You pretended not to know his name, shooting him an expectant look.

"O-Oh, yeah!" He blurted out, "Just Kenzie."

"Yeah-Yeah-Yeah, I know Kenzie." Oz took the empty space beside you, almost assertive and dominant right off the bat. You gulped as he gave Kenzie a sideways glance. "What were you talking about, huh?"

"Uh~"

"The weather!" You practically screeched, forcing an all too bright smile up at Oz. He didn't seem all that convinced, or pleased. Your stomach twisted into knots.

"Kenzie..." Oz's voice was low and rough, commanding respect and authority.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Get back to fucking work. I don't pay you to slack." He grumbled, Kenzie nodded vigorously and responded with a choppy, "Yes, Sir." He scurried back inside without sending you a second glance.

You felt a second of relief before you realized how quiet it was all of a sudden, Oz was frigid and still and he wasn't uttering a single word. He was giving you the side eye, the sort of glare he might give when he was absolutely pissed.

Fuck. You fucked up.

"If you want to go join him, feel free. I can go have dinner by myself." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you cocked your head at him. You hated how your hand instinctively raised to rest on his forearm.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not stupid. You two know each other, s'no point in lying about it." Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You were fucked beyond imagine. You swore sweat was pooling off the edge of your brow.

"What do you mean?" You repeated again, because you honestly had no idea what to say. You were a deer in headlights. Oz stood taller and frowned, shaking his head.

"Look, honey, if you're taken, then tell me. Don't lead me the fuck on." He pushed past you, your touch drifting from his the further away he went. He procured a chain of keys from his coat pocket, disappearing around the corner just as you rushed after him.

"Oz! Please! I don't understand. I just met him!"

"Baby, now you're really angering me..." He stopped and turned to face you, you didn't halt your hurried footing in time and you were bumping into his broad chest. For someone with a waddle to his step, handicapped knee, the man could move when he wanted to. The expression on his face was dark and the little lighting on this stretch of street, out beside the entrance to the Lounge, it didn't help much in emphasizing the deep lines that scoured his face. It only made him look more menacing, but you refused to fear him. Not now. Your biggest fright was in thinking that perhaps your cover had been blown. "You were clinging to him. When I left the club, I saw it all." You gobbed like a fish, "What? Is this some game to you?" Hushed. Crackly. These were the words that described an uncertain Oz. In this moment, he was very uncertain, and brutally beaten inside.

He would have killed you right away if he knew the truth, but now you were starting to see that it was only rejection that filled his beating heart. He was oblivious to your true nature.

He thought you were with Kenzie. He thought you were dating someone. He thought you were taken.

This was your chance to set the record straight. To let Oz know that you couldn't pursue a relationship with him. It would certainly make this operation easier for you, but was that really what you wanted? You shouldn't want to do the opposite: tell him how strongly you feel for him. And using your job as an excuse? Being caught frolicking with the boss? Wouldn't do much good for your cover. Saying no to your boss?? It wouldn't end well.

Again. This was a difficult situation no matter what choice you made.

But you needed to make a choice.

You put rational thought aside, and you made it.

You stepped closer into him, the rebound of your accidental bump into him didn't leave much space between you both already.

"He was coming onto me." You lied through your teeth, "So, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt..." You snatched up the collar of his coat and yanked him down to your level. "And I told him I wasn't interested, and I probably would have kneed him between the legs if you hadn't shown up..." You turned your head down slightly, Oz's beady eyes were trained on you like a hawk to their prey. "And I didn't want you to know because I thought you'd be upset." Wrong bird. Hawks weren’t so soft. Hawks weren’t so forgiving.

There was a stark silence that followed. It was agonizing to say the least.

"Oz..." You continued, slowly releasing him. "I'm not with anyone. I'm not leading you on. I'm just-" I'm not who you think I am. I'm afraid. I'm falling for someone I shouldn't be. "You're my boss. We shouldn't."

You awaited a response, a movement, a noise of approval, a noise of disapproval, something.

"Well?!" You snapped, "Can't you just please say-" He grabbed you and yanked you into a searing kiss. The ridges in his lips, healed scar tissue, were surprising soft and smooth. Your hands cupped his cheeks, one thumb subconsciously caressing in circles on the thicker edges of his scar line. The kiss deepened, tongues intermingling. His taste was bold bourbon and Cuban cigars, paired with the smell of sharp cologne that flooded your senses. He was turning you, closing you in against the nearest concrete wall and you were trapped when he pressed you taut to the surface. He locked you in with his hulking figure, broad and big and although plump, firm and sturdy.

He pulled back first, pressing his forehead down to yours and you could feel the breath of his smile off his lips. You exchanged a wave of heated exhales, one of your hands held his shoulder as an anchor and the other continued to brush along the contours of his lesser scarred cheek.

"I'm sorry..." He huffed out, sounding genuinely ashamed for his outburst. "I can't stand it anymore."

"St-St-" You gulped, that kiss literally took the breath out of you. Your heart was beating a million times per second and it felt like your entire insides were melted. "Stand what?" His pointed, jagged nose brushed yours and he sighed.

"I know I ain't much, but I'd give ya' everything you ever wanted. You would never wish for nothin'." The husky pit of his voice was doing something to you, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek so gentle and so tender that you must had been in an alternate reality. "Seeing the way other guys look at you, seeing you-" He swallowed, "Seeing you away from me. It doesn't feel right." Now it was your turn to be quiet, taking in those words as he intermittently placed kisses along your cheeks and jawline, up to the slope of your jaw that fit in junction with your ear. You closed your eyes, hands sliding up and wrapping around his neck. "Tell me to stop and I'll look the other way. Tell. Me. To. Stay..." He grunted each word into your ear, hands fisting into the hips of your coat and you pressed your cheek into his. "And I'll be yours forever."

"Are you sure?" You didn't realize the tears streaming down your cheeks. You wanted it so badly. After all these months, trying so hard to do your job, you just wanted to give in and take a break.

When you both first met each other, it was almost like, neither of you were really interested. There were plenty of fish in the sea-Or why even fish at all? On your end, it went much deeper. You shouldn't be falling for the same person you were trying to incriminate. On his end, he was determined to not date any of the women that worked under him. But it was Oz's vulnerable side that reeled you, it was your ferocity that made Oz intrigued.

You didn't even know how to manage a club, but somehow, within a two months you had taken the spot of the former manager and you had gained the respect of your fellow employees. Pretty soon, Oz was paying attention. And it was the sweet things that he did for you that made it so hard to hate him otherwise. You would forget what he had done and put your own desires ahead of you. That was how you ended up here:

Maybe you spent too much time with him.

Maybe you laughed too much when he cracked a joke.

And when he spoke, you listened a little too closely.

What was more important to you now? Oz? Or your entire career? Gotham City? Or Love?

Was it worth it?

"Am I sure?" He asked, a lilt to his voice of disbelief, "Course I'm sure. Not a single hint of doubt," He pulled back enough to pinch your chin and draw you back into his gaze, that flickered in the little light. "You sure?" You smiled, genuinely, and nodded your head.

"Let's go eat. I'm starving." You were the first one to say it.

And the searing kiss continued once more.

The happiness didn't last too long, when you realized what all of this meant.

There was no honor to the things you did.

#oswald copplepot #oz cobblepot #oz cobblepot x reader #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the penguin #carmine falcone #female reader

68 notes · View notes

howl-fantasies · 2 years

Note

Hey could u do one when y/n gets her period while Victor is on a job outside of Gotham and she had to stay for whatever reason and is getting mood swings and maybe she ends up at the good and asks jim for a water he says no and she starts crying and everyone is very concerned and texts Victor and then something happens idk thx u know I luv ur stories all the luv ~Princess

Hello dear! First of all, I am so sorry for the delay with this and basically all requests. But as I said a few days ago, I'll try to answer all of them!

The idea is a very good one to be honest, and imagining Jim making her cry and everyone starting to panic makes me laugh so hard!

Warning: English mistakes, I'm on my phone and it's not my first language, sorry for that, I'm working on it. A lot of bad words, violence, it's Gotham after all. Long post, got a bit carried away here.

How would you define a shitty day? Some would think about breaking anything they touch. Others about having a hard time at work, being screamed at by their obnoxious boss. For her? Answer was simple: having her period, and having to spend the week without the dickhead calling himself her husband.

Don't get her wrong she loves the idiot, but he knew her excruciating week was about to start and just run away like a coward, jumping on a mission far away from Gotham and abandoning her. What happened to the: "for better and worse" He vowed to honor when he coaxed her into marrying him, uh?! The little piece of shit.

"Don't you think the man has enough bullets inside of him to be confused with a pistol magazine, Y/N?" Groaned Carmine, standing behind her and folding his arms in front of him like a chastising father.

"Well, I would have been delighted to make him look like a box of tampons if I didn't need them so badly this week, Carmine." She sighed, while putting her guns back in their holsters and turning to look at him. Her eyes caught the livid face of Oswald, a few steps away from them. At least one funny thing today she thought.

The heavy sigh of the King of Gotham brought her focus back on him. He knew she would be insufferable. He knew it the minute he sent Victor away, telling him he would be able to deal with his woman. As a father of another female, he was pretty sure he would be able to handle the walking bomb currently in front of him.

Zsasz warned him about her non-existent patience, her extreme mood swings and the fact that he usually hide all weapons in their flat. Dear lord... Carmine found it a little bit extreme at this time and just decided to ignore the whole red alert. What a mistake. Now his favorite carpet was stained, ruined and one of his goons had so much iron in him they wouldn't even have to attach his feet to some weight to make him drow like a stone. He was too old for this...

"Y/N my dear. I appreciate you beyond measure. But right now, I think you need a walk and some fresh air to clear your mind. Go. Go in town, have some fun, just not to much and I'll call you if I need anything." The old man said.

Hearing the boss dismissing her like this truly infuriated her to be honest. But he had a point. Shooting someone to death because he had the fucking nerve to ask loudly if she was so moody because of her period wasn't maybe the best way to deal with things.

She simply nodded, indirectly answering Carmine and brushed past Oswald without seeing him. Yeah, she should have punch the goon's face to a pulp and answer him something like "since I started my day in a puddle of blood, I wanted to share the fabulous experience with someone. What do you think?"

Definitely better. Anyway, she was no necromancer. Dude was dead. Just another tally to add to her 'Murder week festival'. She would send a bouquet of pads to his widow or something, she would just have to tell the staff to sponge the guy's blood with it first.

As soon as the heavy oak door slammed, Cobblepot couldn't help but cough to try to gain Falcone's attention. "Are you sure sending her away tic-tacking like this isn't going to backfire, Don Falcone?"

His question earned a long silence from the king of Gotham, then a glance. One which froze Penguin on the spot. He should have shut his trap.

"You've got a point here", acknowledged Falcone in a low voice. "Go after her, be sure she doesn't cause too many mischief. Call me if anything goes south."

Penguin had to dig really deep inside of him to maintain a decent face and not scream bloody murder in the middle of the room. Monitoring Y/N was usually difficult. But now? In her state? And after hearing all the stories Carmine's goons fed each other with during their free time?! It will be suicidal.

The little man lowered his head in defeat and limped in direction of the door Y/N slammed a few minutes ago. Once outside, he swore seeing that the woman was still as swift as usual and already disappeared from the estate.

"Where did that tart went?!" He spat, rushing to climb inside of his car, yelling at the driver to go in the middle of the city and to open his eyes to help him find the assassin.

Did she use Victor's credit card to raid an entire clothing store? Absolutely. Was it petty? Sure. Did it help her to feel better? Not really. But the idea of her husband experiencing a mini seizure at the view of the bill definitely did.

She felt her phone buzz inside of her pocket for maybe the fifth time of the day, Footloose accompanying the buzz. She let out an irritated "ugh" while throwing her head back. Fucking Cobblepot. Didn't he get the hint when she refused to answer the previous 49 times?

She decided to cross the road in direction to the Narrows. Here, she was sure, he would let her be, too disgusted to even put his posh shoes on the dirty pavement. The idea made her move quicker, her eyes locked on the other side of the road, but something coming fast on her right brutally caught her full attention.

"HOLY FUCK!" She roared, her profanity hidden by the loud honking of the police car on her side, its wheels still fuming after the harsh stop it had to make.

Behind the windshield, Jim Gordon was looking at her with wide eyes. For a second, the two seemed frozen in spot. The next, the loud sound of Y/N's bags hitting the floor and the clicking of the security of her guns convinced Gordon to move. And fast.

He threw himself out of his vehicle, dodging a bullet, and using its door as a shield while grabbing his gun to also aim at the woman.

"Y/N?! What the hell are you doing here!" He yelled. "And why in hell didn't you look before crossing the freaking road?!" He added.

The snarl he saw on her painted lips indicated him that she wasn't in the best mood to take his scolding. He gulped.

"What are YOU doing here Gordon?! And why the fuck are you driving like you were a cop on a mission you fucking moron?!" She yelled too, her guns still pointing at him.

He scoffed. The nerve! "Well maybe because I am! I was planning to rush on a crime scene, but you being here and menacing me with your guns cleary changed my plans. Put the guns down, Y/N, and come with me. "

Now her left eye was twitching, a sign that she was losing patience with him. "Oh fucking fuck, Jim. Are we really doing this? Dude, just go to your freaking crime scene and let me be, today isn't a good day to mess with me, trust me."

She was about to say something else but another car screeched on the other side of the woman. A black one, from where emerged a furious Oswald, screeching like an angry bird. "You! You freaking tart! I called you at least a hundred times! Where were you?! Do you think I enjoy babysitting your dramatic self?! Because the answer is a bloody NOOOOOO!" He roared with an accusating finger pointing at her.

"Oswald?" Called Jim's surprised voice. "What are you doing here? Why are you with her?"

Cobblepot sighed deeply, letting his furious hands massaging his temples to try to ease the terrible headache this situation has been giving him. He brutally stopped, though, lifting himself and now facing the two with a bright crooked smile.

"Jim! Hello my friend!" He saluted like the previous seconds didn't exist. "I'm so happy the providence put you in our way!" He cheered.

Gordon made a face hearing him, looking at Y/N just to be sure he wasn't dreaming the turn of events. She just shrugged in response. "What do you want Oswald?" the young cop groaned.

"Remember your owe me a favor my dear friend?" Answered Penguin, still beaming like the sun in front of them. His statement made Jim groan again and roll his eyes. "I didn't forget, but today isn't the best for collecting debts, I need to go, but first, I need to make Y/N come with me."

Now it was the woman's turn to scoff loudly. Like the main idea of arresting her was just ridiculous. She didn't saw Oswald's smile getting wider in her back. But she heard the click of a gun and felt a jolt of pain in her neck. "Well, fortunately, your plan and mine are the same Jim. We need to keep Y/N locked for now, and for the best", sang Cobblepot.

She turned brutally in his direction, her eyes feral. "You fucking piece of shit! You called Victor and he told you for the tranquilizer gun!" Y/N yelled, turning the barrel of the gun in her left hand on him but loosing her focus as she pulled the trigger.

She fell on the ground as she heard Oswald howls and insults. "YA BLOODY HARLOT! YOU SHOT ME! SHE WAS READY TO KILL ME!"

"Calm down Oswald, she shot your leg, not your head" Jim distorted voice joined the yells.

"P-PARDON?! SHE WOULD HAVE SHOT MY HEAD IF IT WASN'T FOR THE TRANQUILIZER! JIM!"

After that last scream, all went black.

The sound of phones rings, the shouts of men and women and the dusty smell welcomed her. Y/N frowned and opened her eyes, only to grumble some muffled insults as she immediately close them. The crude lights weren't helping her terrible headache.

She lifted her hand to cover her eyes while slowly sitting on her bench. "Welcome back, sleeping beast. Sensible eyes uh? Poor thing " Mocked a voice she would have prefer to not hear so close to her.

"A shame, I missed. But fortunately, you're breathing so loud I still can kill you in the dark." She muttered, smiling when she recognized the sound of gritting teeth. When she finally felt well enough to open her eyes, she saw Oswald sitting on the other side of her cell with a murderous aura and a bandaged leg.

She couldn't help but giggle at the sigh. "Jimbo arrested you too I can see, that may be what people called karma". Now he was snarling like an angry dog, only holding back the middle finger because of his good education she was sure. How funny.

She lazily stretched, looking around until she saw Jim sat behind his desk, ending a visibly tensed call. "Hey Jim!" She called, winning his attention and a loud sigh.

While the man approached her cell, she also spotted Harvey following him. "Hi Harvey, not already drunk?" She taunted with a sadistic grin.

"Hi luv, 'm still working on it", answered the older man lazily, shaking a flask she suspected was filled with some whiskey.

The assassin snorted before looking back at Jim. "Well? What now Jimbo? Gonna do a stripsearch?" Her shit eating grin made him groan in annoyance. "If your husband and you would be so kind and stop telling the same jokes, I will be very grateful"

It was like she wasn't in a dusty cell at all, talking with them like their were neighbors and putting her arms on the bars like she would do on the frame of her window. "And you would be so kind to open the doors and let me out. You can keep the bird, though, this one will be better in a cage" She jested, grinning wider when Oswald indignant cry resonated.

Jim jawbone tensed, a sign he didn't find her last sentence funny. To be honest, the whole situation was making him quite mad. Because he knew she would find a way to get out. How, he wasn't too sure. At least not with the help of a rocket launcher this time.

"I'm not opening your cell, Y/N", he stated firmly. Her smile didn't even fade. She just tilted her head like a predator contemplating how it was going to jump on its pray. He hated it.

"Fine", she finally purred. "May I have one glass of water at least? I'm quite thirsty after that traitorous shot in my back".

Again his jaw clenched. He had enough. Enough of this day. Enough of the rogues. Enough of the stupid smile this irritating woman always wears when they cross paths.

"No." A simple, deafening no. Suddenly, the whole place seemed to grow silent. In front of him, he saw her freeze. "Excuse you?" She tried.

"I said no. Y/N. You're going to sit here and wait to be questioned, like any other damn criminal in this police station." He answered.

It happened so suddenly he didn't even have the time to see it coming. First it was a hiccup. Then another. Then her reddening eyes becoming glassy. And finally tears rolling on her cheeks. What was happening?

"Oh no", he heard Harvey gasp behind him.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Now he saw with a shocked face Penguin bolting out of the bench, limping to her and turning her crying face in front of him. "Oh my god! Oh no! Everything but this! Don Falcone is gonna shoot us all!" He started to panic. "Are you so poorly educated to refuse a glass of water to a prisoner Jim?! I mean seriously?!" He screeched while guiding the woman on the bench he was previously sitting on.

"What's wrong with her?" Asked Jim incredulously.

"What's wrong with you?! Being so insensitive with a woman fighting with her hormones, I can't believe I was considering you a good person!" Oswald shouted.

"How was I supposed to know uh?!" He shouted too. "And what with your behavior, didn't she shoot you an hour ago?!"

"Because of her hormones you imbecile! You took all her belongings, you've seen the box of tamp-... Of womanly stuff she carried with her! If it wasn't a clue, I don't know what it was then!" Yelled the little dark haired man.

Her cries were unstoppable. Nothing Penguin tried worked, none of Harvey gentle coos made her stop. In fact, it was getting worse.

"DO SOMETHING JIM!" Pressed Oswald. "Like what?!" Snapped the young cop.

Oswald scoffed like he was outraged. "I dUnNo CALL VICTOR MAYBE IMBECILE!" Demanded Penguin.

"Not like I have his number" Jim grumbled, he couldn't believe what was happening. "Gimme your freaking phone!" snarled Oswald, grabbing Harvey's who just shrugged when Jim sent him a glare and typing the number of their only hope.

Nothing. "He isn't answering." muttered Cobblepot, while awkwardly padding Y/N's back.

"Of course he isn't, what criminal in his right state of mind would answer a call from the GCPD Penguin?" Groaned Harvey, earning another glare to add to his collection of the day.

Oswald cursed under his breath and took a deep inspiration before he yelled so loud everybody in the room would be able to hear. "WHAT KIND OF LAME CRIMINALS ARE YOU?! CAN'T YOU SEE WE ARE FACING A CRISIS HERE?! CALL VICTOR ZSASZ NOW OR DON FALCON WILL PERSONALLY DEAL WITH ANY OF YOU SCUMS WHO LET HER BEST WOMAN CRY HELPLESSLY!"

Like a whip, his voice made all the criminals jolt in fear and Gordon had to open a wide mouth when he saw everyone in the cells taking out - from what seems like a magical pocket - a phone and starting to call or text the infamous hitman. Did confiscated phones meant nothing to rogues in town nowadays?!

He turned in Harvey's direction just in time to see him opening a plastic bag where he how so carefully put Y/N's items an hour ago. "What the hell are you doing?" He breathed.

His co-worker frowned and took the woman's phone, giving him to a very pale Oswald pleading her to unlock it. "Trying to make it stop. Trust my years of experience with her, nothing will stop her. The only soul in town able to deal with her in this state is an obsessive bald homicidal maniac." Bullock said.

"Christ it's just tears!" Tried to rationalize Jim while pointing at her like an idiot. "She'll stop, eventually!" The harsh glare he earned from the whole room made him question Gotham's general sense of sanity again. It was surrealistic. Truly.

---------- 1 New Message --------

Bullock

Red alert. Your wife is in tears at GCPD. Come asap!!

---------- End of message --------

----------- 1 New Message ---------

Unknown

Mister Zsasz, sorry to contact you but your wife is crying right now. Please help us.

...

Please don't kill me. I'm just a honest criminal who happened to be here.

------------ End of Message -------

---------- 1 New Message -------

Riddler

What is charming 3 weeks per month and a whole crying mess on the 4th?

...

Just the day I wanted to attack the GCPD, I only let it pass because of the exceptional circumstances.

...

Do something. The whole city is in alert right now!

---------- End of message ----------

-------- 1 New Message ---------

Kean

Heard you let your wife crying at the GCPD.

...

Told her she could have done so much better. You're the worst husband material.

--- Blocked and added to "killing list" ---

---------- 1 New Message --------

Mrs Sweetness Zsasz

It's Oswald. How dare you ignore my calls?!

...

Come fetch your wife, she cried so much I fear she'll not have any water left in her body!

...

And buy chocolate! A lot! Mother said it helps during those times.

---------- End of message --------

"Oh dear me. What happened here?" He asked to no one, scrolling on his phone and reading message after message. He knew it was the worst idea of the decade to let Carmine and the others deal with Y/N during this time of the month. He wasn't suspecting he would find the city near bursting in fire when he would come back.

He didn't even have to threaten the cops at the entry of the GCPD. For the first time of his life, the cops on the outside stairs looked relieved to see him. Alvarez, who was smoking among them even let out a "thanks god" which made him chuckle.

When he went inside, he didn't even have to search for her. All the cops where around her cell, the criminals behind bars where glued to them in her direction and tried to cheer her lamely. It was something to witness frankly.

He walked lazily, letting the cops who spotted him take a couple of steps back with the same disturbing relief painted on their tired faces.

When he reached the cell, he slowly blinked, taking the whole picture: his wife was crying like a river, her head between her hands, on her right was Cobblepot, padding her back and cooing, promising her husband was going to deal with everything. At her feet, he could see at least 30 full glasses of water, untouched. And outside the cell, a disheveled and very pale Jim Gordon was being scolded like a 5yo by an angry Bullock.

"Ah! Thanks Satan! You finally here!" Shouted the older cop once he saw him. Zsasz shrugged and made a face then pointed at the woman with his finger. "Why is she crying?"

Harvey sighed loudly. "Long story short, because of a glass of water..."

"THAT HE REFUSED HER!" Yelled Oswald angrily while pointing at Jim who groaned.

Zsasz blinked again then let out a tired sigh. "Open the cell." He demanded with a smooth but firm tone. Harvey immediately grabbed the keys from Jim's belt, ignoring his protests and opened it, sending a "Don't you dare do anything else mate" glance at his co-worker.

Victor went inside and crouched until his face was at the same height as hers. "Gonna take you home Sweetness", he muttered before he raised and helped her standing, hugging her shoulders and guiding her out of the cell.

"WAIT!" Shouted Jim when they started to walk in direction of the door.

"Just a minute" said Zsasz as he grabbed Oswald's arm to put it where his was. Now that Penguin was helping her to stand, the hitman turned around and walked on Jim slowly.

Nobody had the time to see him rising his left arm. But everyone heard the hard punch striking Gordon so hard on the face he fell on the floor, his nose now bleeding like a fountain.

"Don't make my wife cry ever again, Jim. It makes me angry." He muttered with a deadly calm face then turned around again to take back his previous place, scrounching just enough to put a hand behind Y/N's knees and lifting her princess style, taking his leave with a shocked Oswald.

Everyone was now looking at Jim, still on the floor and holding his broken nose. "Be happy he was worried about his wife or you'd be dead Jim. I told you many times: don't mess with Y/N, she's Zsasz trump card." Chastised Harvey as he pushed a box of tissues in his blood stained hands.

"Is she going to be her irritating self soon?" Asked Cobblepot uneasily from his back seat inside of Zsasz's black car.

The bald man threw his wife a glance and sighed. "I know I wasn't here Sweetness, but it was the boss' orders." Her lack of answer made him sigh louder. "Wasn't it a little bit extreme?" He asked in a dull tone.

Oswald opened his mouth to remind him he wasn't here and didn't see how she lost her composure but was cut by Y/N's also dull tone.

"Are you going to leave again? To finish the task?"

Zsasz let out a snort. "After the scene you made? Don't think I'll go anywhere. Plus I already finished my business outside of Gotham. And Carmine called on my way back, he heard about what happened and demanded me to stay glued to you until the week ends."

She also let out a snort, a very amused one a that, which made Oswald jolt in his seat, the surprise painting his whole face.

"Never thought it would work so well", she mused.

Ok now he was collecting his jaw from the floor. "It was an act?! You were pretending and let me made a fool of myself?!" Yelled Cobblepot, earning a tired glance from Y/N.

"Not at first. I really was crying." She said." But seeing how the events turned, I saw an opportunity to get out of our cell, make Victor come back faster AND stay with Carmine's benediction", she confessed with a shit eating grin.

Oswald scoffed, that tart was so good at acting he was really pitying her and tried to be as sensitive and gentle as he could be. "You're the worst!" He shouted angrily, only earning a laugh from her and a resigned sigh from Zsasz. But he saw how the man's lips were twitching. He was clearly enjoying his wife's new scheme.

"You both are the worst" He grumbled while crossing his arms in front of him and pouting like a little child.

A/N - I hope you loved it! 🥰

138 notes · View notes

lightwing-s · 1 year

Text

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊__ 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: jason todd x villain! fem! reader

summary: there should be a clear hatred for those you fight against, but nobody told y/n and jason about it.

rating: 16+

word count: pasmem 8,2k warnings: sex jokes, heavy make out session, foreplay

a/n: it took me long, but i hope this long ass post makes up for all the time it took me to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one, as i had a lot o fun writing it, and please let me know what you think about it once you're done reading ♡.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

pt ii

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

… Explosion at the Yacht Basin. The Tiffany is being exhibited. Hurry.

“Just two miles south.” Jason responded. “On my way.”

Speeding up his motorcycle on the busy and wet streets of Gotham, Jason makes a sudden u-turn and heads back in the opposite direction he was once going. Swerving around the cars, trucks and other motorcycles, he hears back honks and curse words be thrown at him, but he doesn’t care. The adrenaline has woken his body. He can even feel the air blowing on his face, even behind the scarlet helmet composing his vigilante outfit.

He had been starving for action all night. His body needed it. Bruce had been an asshole. Roy had been an even worse ass, and there were tons of other people that had been pissing him off all day. All this built up anger made his body beg for some sort of release, he needed this extra energy gone, and punching someone on the face seemed like a very plausible solution to his problem.

Failing to follow his own mind, telling him to be more careful with his driving after the last incident — that had him not being able to rise from his bed from how much pain his body was in —, he drove so fast his speedometer was hitting it’s other end. He’d definitely get scolded for it at any minute by Barbara through the coms, and not being in the mood for that, he turned his communication off.

As he got closer to the marina, the smoke and fire became more and more evident through the gaps between all the skyscrapers surrounding the road. Pinkish flames flaring up here and there, climbing up the marina’s main building, and releasing smoke fuchsia toned. Upon that sight, Jason’s blood began to boil even hotter than it already was, and if possible, he sped up even more.

Recently, pink flames could only mean one thing in Gotham: Cupid. New psycho in town, got this name from Carmine Falcone himself, for her love to use crossbows and arrows and the hazed state his men were left by the mere sight of her face. Having had the displeasure of meeting her countless times, Jason knew her face pretty well, even if she kept it’s bottom mostly covered. And he was glad she did, as he could not stand the smirk planted on her lips as she managed to piss him off to no end.

She was a good thief, fast and stealthy, to the point one could have her in his hands but blink a little too slow and lose her to the shadows. Smart enough to keep herself out of the records for months, misdirecting her actions to random people, until one she had an accidental run into Robin and Spoiler when leaving Gotham’s Museum of Antiquities with a full bag of stolen artifacts and no sound coming from any of the alarms.

Also, she was really annoying, knowing just the right things to say and do to get under Jason’s skin. And she would linger there for longer than he’d like to admit.

Scared citizens still ran out of the building when he got there, coughing and barely being able to breath due to the exposure to the toxic smoke. Leaving them in the care of the firefighters that had arrived a bit sooner than he did, he darted inside. Knowing pretty well how his opponent worked at this point in time, he got to the room where he was certain he'd find her.

Displays of very expensive jewelry filled the otherwise empty room. It was dark, but the few lights that came in from the glass ceiling — from the moon, the street lamps and the fire burning outside — hit the jewels and the stones, who in turn reflected them beautifully making an almost perfect show of lights that could make many nightclub owners out there feel pretty jealous of the image they could never replicate. Almost perfect because right where he stood he could see the central piece of the exhibit was missing, the big yellow diamond out of sight.

No alarm sounds, no security system activated.

“Looking for this?” asked a voice from behind him, soft, sultry and mysterious. What wasn’t soft, though, was the clicking sound of a pistol unlocking and being settled at the nape of his neck. “Don’t worry, I won’t shoot. I like you too much to hurt you, Red. And also, I don’t want to ruin your face before I get the chance to see it with my own eyes.”

“Give back the diamond, Cupid” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“Oh, they have so many here, they won’t notice I only took one.”

With a swift movement, Jason threw his arm back with force and locked Cupid’s arm under his own, making her drop the gun somewhere far he could only see through the side of his eyes. Now, facing the villain, he kept her arm tightly wrapped around his, somewhat careful to not hurt it while keeping control of the situation.

“I thought guns weren’t your thing.” he said, tightening his hold and making her groan.

“I’m keen on exploring new kinks” she replied. “C’mon, Red! We don’t need this. We’re friends, I can send you a gift card once I sell this to the black market” and with an even quicker movement, Cupid released her arm from Red Hood’s grip and spun around, kicking at his face. Jason dodged it and threw a punch at her that she also skipped, though only for mere inches.

Hitting the back of his knee with another kick, the villain managed to make the hooded hero fall to his knees for a brief moment, giving her an opportunity to run out of the room. Jason darted after her straight away, following her through the corridors and up the stairs, then reaching the glass ceiling of the exhibit. She ran with ease on top of the steel bars holding the glass up, opening a gap between the two of them as Jason, much larger and heavier, had more difficulty in doing the same.

Soon, they exchanged the glass ceiling for a concrete roof when they got on top of the neighboring room. Chasing her dark suited body, he managed to shorten their distance a little when she jumped a small gap and fell onto another building, him not taking long and getting there as well. It was the main structure on fire, the heat from below reaching his forearms, the only part of his body left exposed, unprotected by his jacket.

“Into fire play, Cupid?”

“Ha!” she laughed at his joke, throwing her head back mid run. “Works as a great distraction.” she shrugged.

She was certainly faster than him, reaching the end of that building much sooner, lowering down and grabbing a bag that must have been left there beforehand. Out of it, she took her pistol sized crossbow and turned to him. Not wanting to get shot, Jason zigzagged his way to her, trying to run as fast as he could.

After the sound of the weapon activating, an arrow flew right by his shoulder, cutting a string on his leather jacket. Strike one, thought the vigilante. Nobody does that to his jacket.

This time aiming the gun at the higher building, she shot it and the arrow hooked on the stair house wall. Finally reaching the end of his run and almost at arm’s range with the thief, he jumped in her direction, trying to catch her mid flight, but only just touching the sole of her boots. She was up in the air, flying to the other building, and landed on it with gracious ease, as a pretty bird landed on someone’s finger.

“Pray to catch me, Red” she taunted him once she settled on the other side of the tall gap.

Groaning in frustration, he threw off his jacket, incredibly hot to the touch from being near the fire, and feeling a sting of pain hit his shoulder as he noticed a bleeding wound adrenaline didn’t allow him to see earlier in the same spot his sleeve had been laying on.

“Oh, Red.” she screamed at him, attracting his attention. “I swear you couldn’t turn me on more than you already did, but wow!” sliding her back down the wall of the stair house, she sat on the floor, her legs slightly spread in his direction.

“Shut up!” he screamed back, all his build up frustration sounding through it.

“Oooh come make me…” she moaned, throwing her head back, exposing her glistening neck. Anger blew through his nose, and standing on the edge of the roof, Jason took his grappling gun from his utility belt and aimed it at top of where her arrow still stood. Being soared into the air, he was mere inches from reaching the parapet when he felt his body lose all weight and descend to the floor. His heart fell just as hard, as he noticed the cut wire that once held him up slide right past his face.

However, when he thought the floor was his only destination at that point, strong arms held onto his own, keeping him from falling.

“Thought I was gonna let you die in front of me?” questioned that same sultry voice.

“You fucking cut the wire! What did you want me to think?” he replied, grinding his teeth.

“I removed your hook from the wall” she corrected, matter of factly. “And I did it so we could have a little fun. It was getting boring up here. All alone”

The seductive way she finished her sentence made Jason’s voice put up and look directly at her face. Her lowered eyebrows and the pout she had on her bottom lip — plumb, red and glossy ones — made his stomach turn. Strike two, I hate pouty lips.

Using his free arm to grab onto the railing, he forced his body up with her assistance. He put one of his legs over the parapet and managed to finally set his feet on the ground. He shouldn’t have been affected by what happened. He was used to heights, he knew he could shoot his grappling gun again, he knew nothing would happen. Yet, it did affect me.

His heart was beating fast, his breath caught in his throat. Laying his hand on his tights, he tried to steady his it, to relax his shoulders, and ease his body back to normal. For a brief moment, he imagined himself falling into the fire, the image of being consumed by it scaring him way too much.

“Here, big boy. Take a seat” Cupid forced him on his butt and made him rest his head on the railing. “Jesus, you’re not into rope play? Noted.”

Clicking her tongue, she lowered herself to his level and placed one hand on his knee.

“Really… I want to kill you.” he shook his head, removing his hands from under hers.

“Thought your killing days were over, Red.” she stated, hands going to her waist. “Sadly, it’s not gonna be tonight you get to realize your dream.”

Standing up and wasting no time, Cupid grabbed her crossbow, unloaded it and hit it against the back of his ear — or where she assumed it rested inside the helmet. The clicking of metal into metal echoed in his ears, making him lose his senses for a bit.

It seemed like it wouldn’t stop, the sound reverberating under the helmet. He tried to stand up, but his balance was poor, nearly making him fall once again. Holding his head, he tried to stop the sound, but it was useless. Taking off the helmet was a no no, even if the clear best solution to his pain.

Deciding that loosening it might make the situation better, he pressed the button that would free his skull, but he did not remove the helmet from it’s place. Not long after, the agonizing noise came to a halt, his sight stopped spinning, and he finally could stand up just fine.

But Cupid was gone. Lost to the night, and not a single sign she was even up there with him at some point could be spotted around.

If he hadn’t accumulated frustration enough all night until this point, he was sure that now he had reached maximum storage. Punching the wall, he let go of some of it, but certainly not enough.

Three nights ago, Jason let Cupid escape. Three nights ago, Jason got scolded by Bruce for letting the Tiffany diamond go missing. Three nights ago, he could only think of one thing, and that thing has stayed in his mind ever since.

Tonight though, he would finally put an end to his mental torture.

The heavy sound of rain soon faded as he entered the batcave’s tunnel system, being then exchanged by the echoing sound of his engine against the hollow corridors. The darkness and the cold of that place once made him extremely uncomfortable, but after so long visiting those places, he felt embraced by it, and the solitude, the feeling of leaving the whole world behind, turning it off of his head, made him feel at home.

Underground, he found the metro trails of Gotham’s subway system. This first one he spotted was from an old abandoned line, a new one had been set to finish its construction by the late 2000s, but that clearly did not reach that goal, now resting here, forgotten.

Driving through the empty tunnels, following the directions his computer board had given him, and reaching the marked spot on his screen, he made his motorcycle come to a stop, turning it off, getting down from it and making the rest of his way on foot.

He didn’t really know what he was looking for, but he was warned by Oracle of an explosion caught by the radar. The smell of smoke was present during his ride, but there was no sight of fire. Leaving his headlights on, it helped him find his footing around the area, where he could barely see the tubes and wires drawing parallel lines on the concrete walls, nor the weird engravings he had no idea who — and how — had put them there. Standing still, he quieted his breathing and took some time to listen.

The howling of the wind, the timed buzzing of electricity running through the cables and the distant sound of trains following their course filled Jason’s ear, but something else caught his attention. It was the slight sound of rocks moving to his left that made him turn around and face exactly who he wanted to see.

At the blink of an eye, he had her under his gun’s aim.

��Certainly, this terrain doesn’t favor me at all, does it Red?” she taunted, hands held up in the air like a culprit caught by the police. This time, she had her regular all black attire on, but had no mask and wore a hooded jacket, much like his own. “What do you think? Does it suit me?”

“Where’s the fucking diamond?”

“Sold to the black market. Is this all you can talk about?”

She was quick. She had to be, a diamond as expensive as the Tiffany wouldn’t last long in her hands if word got around she still had it for this long. He knew she had to have a buyer even before stealing it. Yet, Jason innocently thought he could have gotten to her before she managed to trade it.

“Didn’t know you were working for Cobblepot…” he questioned. He had been sent here because they knew Penguin was out and about, planning something for some time, but that they weren’t sure on what it was. Finding her here meant she was somewhat involved in his business, and he didn’t know why and how that was made possible.

“Working with Cobblepot” she cut him off, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “And not by choice.”

“For what then? Doesn’t seem to me like he’s the best match for your skill set.” he commented, interested in knowing why this pairing was ever formed. Penguin was a crime boss who would steal everything and anything that could get him richer, and he had worked with some of the best along the years, although not the best partner they had ever had. Yet working alongside a Cupid seemed especially strange this time, as she had only been on their records for a couple months, and Penguin isn’t much keen on working alongside new flesh. And also, from the little bit he knew about her, she preferred working alone.

“For I have no other choice.” she answered, and he could have sworn her voice had a little crack somewhere between those words. “I guess I should’ve picked a buyer more carefully. Next time I try to sell some stolen goods I’ll have that in mind.” she threw her shoulders back and continued. “Beginners curse. I’ll learn things through time and find the right people who I can trust. I did find you after all, right Daddy?”

Say what?! she caught him off guard. What did she just fucking call me?

“I’m not your fucking Da…” lowering his gun, grunting, he stoped himself from saying the last word.

“Oh? Why can’t you say it?” she mused, excited by his excitation from saying the word. “Say it!”

“Stop.”

“Say it, Red.” she challenged.

“No!” he screamed back, while she continued to taunt him. At a distance, his ears heard the succinct sound of a train coming in their direction and he started to notice the peebles jumping up on the ground. He also noticed Cupid standing right at the middle of the railing tracks. “Cupid, get out of there.”

He tried to plead, but she still happily sang to him to repeat the D word.

“The train is coming! Do you want to die” he got closer, but nothing. She didn’t even flinch at the words train and coming being thrown at her.

“Y/n, move!” he screamed.

“Oh, you know my name?” her eyes widened as she seemed to have grown more excited at the thought he knew her identity. “Only fair you give me yours now.”

Crossing her arms on her chest like a little child would do to its parents, she continued to ignore Red Hood’s pleas as the train announced itself to them by shining it’s lights in their direction.

“C’mon” he grunted, but she still didn’t move.

“Tell me your name” she sang.

“Damn it, it’s Jason. Now fucking move.” He was desperate at this point, as she made no indications she was moving out of the way. Fearful, he started walking in her direction.

“Now, say dad-dy…”

“FUCK!” he screamed and rushed his steps. Getting to her, he jumped into the tracks and held her by the arms, dragging her alongside him out of the railway and onto the opposite wall, fast enough to have the train pass behind them and over the spot she was standing on a second later..

“Why didn’t you fucking get out?” he asked, completely exasperated, pushing her away from his hold.

“You wouldn’t let me die would you?” she pouted at him once more, aggravating his nerves and making him moan in frustration. Why is she so fucking difficult?

“I would kill you if I could.” he stated, getting closer to her face.

“What's holding you back? Papa bats wouldn’t let you?”

Clenching his wrists, trying his best to not throw a punch at her yet and doing his best to hold his anger, he answers through gritted teeth. “I’m past that”

“A mature man”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re annoying”

“It’s a talent I’ve curated through the years.” she stated, proud of herself for being an irritating little shit.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he questioned, remembering his job and the orders he had received earlier.

“Ah…” she looked up, as if trying to remember herself. “Distracting you.”

“Huh?”

“Penguin is planning something tonight and told me to take you out of his way.” He didn’t notice she was this close, but her hands were not at his collar. She fixed something in his chest he failed to see a problem with, her hands sliding up and down his chest.

Shit, Jason thought. He had to get back.

Grabbing her wrist, he removed her hands from his jacket and threw them far away from him. Turning around, he was dead set into returning to the surface. “Oracle, this was a distraction. Penguin is…”

“...Robbing the entire exhibit at the Yacht Club. Yeah, we figured that out. Where were you? Everyone is heading there now.”

“I’m on my way too.” he cut the conversation short, running to his motorcycle.

“Hey, Jay?” he rolled his eyes at the sound of her voice, still walking to his vehicle and getting on top of it. “Could you give me a ride?”

“You gotta be kidding me” he whispered to himself. Looking back at her, arms on her side and big eyes innocencly staring at him, he really wondered if she was being serious or not. What was stopping him from giving her a ride and locking her up afterwards? In fact, that seemed like a very good idea to him. Having her right there, sitting behind him and holding his body, he could be sure she wouldn’t go anywhere…

“My my, you’re actually considering it?” she smirked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You should go, Red. The sooner you trap Penguin, the sooner I’ll be free.”

And turning her back to him, she disappeared into the darkness once again. This time, he made his way into the shadows right after.

By the time they all had got to the exhibit, the jewels were already gone.

Penguin’s meticulously crafted plan was a success. He had each and every member of the family busy with different affairs, seemingly unrelated, and within large enough distances to the Yacht Basin, that if anyone was seen moving in its direction, they would have enough time to clear the area before they got there. And everything went as planned.

They all wondered, how could they have been tricked like that? So under their noses, so obvious looking on the outside. Yet, they were played like little children.

“We are trying to keep this out of the news until we understand how it all happened. The National Museum won’t be happy with this.”

“We’re working on getting as much information as possible, Commissioner. Penguin can’t have gone too far, this fast.” Batman stated. “These jewels are still in Gotham, and we’ll find them.”

“Good. Otherwise the mayor is gonna want both our necks hanging by morning.” Commissioner Gordon replied, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge and fishing for a cigar he knew he had hid somewhere inside his coat’s pocket.

Hearing their conversion from a few feet away, Jason and Dick watched as the two of them said their goodbyes, and Bruce, in his mighty black cape and cowl, made his way towards the two standing in the corner.

“Are you sure the jewels are still in the city?” Dick questioned, a subtle hint of doubt hidden in his voice, but not daring yet to completely cut this theory out of the question.

“No planes or ships were spotted on the radars. Fleeing the city with millions in gold and jewelry is not going to be easy after the police closed all road exits.” looking back at the Commissioner for a moment, he continued. “Barbara responded that all cameras at the Yacht club were conveniently turned off earlier. But she got a hold of the street vigilance records and caught a truck with suspicious actions coming and going down the street that leads here.”

Walking between Dick and Jason, he ignored their questioning looks and continued.

“I’m taking the batmobile back to the cave. Gather more information on the truck’s route and possible destinations. I need you two on the streets, be my eyes and ears. If anything happens, you need to call me. Immediately” he demanded, blending with the shadows and making his way out of this place, leaving the two brothers all alone.

“I can’t believe Harley was with Penguin on this one.” he heard Dick start. “I was so sure she was trying to break the Joker out of Arkham again. I only realized something was wrong when she was taking too long to take some action .”

His brother’s little adventure with Harley Quinn was at the bottom of the list of things he was interested in at the moment. While he continued to ramble about it, his mind was constantly drawn back to the tunnels and to her.

The way she could get under his skin so easily was something he couldn’t figure out how and why happened. There was only one other person who could do it as easily, but the Joker had killed him in the past, making the reason for his hatred for the Clown Prince of Gotham completely reasonable. On the other hand, he had only known Cupid for some time, met her less than his finger could count, and she really had not done anything more than antagonize him and actually save his life once.

And also, she was kinda hot. It irked him tremendously to even have thoughts about this, but he had to be honest with himself and admit — to him only, and nobody else — that he did have a small, very slight, very little, thing for Y/n. But that was all physical, he only thought she was insanely attractive. She could work her body and her words, clearly, and he was just stupidly weak to have fallen for charm.

“What did he do to keep you away?” Dick asked, having Jason’s attention back to him.

Jason considered if he really should tell his brother or not of what kept him away for so long. He had joked before about how much he seemed to find her out during patrol, and how she often got the best of him, leaving him empty handed. When they found out her real identity, Dick caught a glimpse at how Jason stared at her pictures a lot longer than he usually would.

Coming to a conclusion, he answered without shame. “Cupid.”

Just by hearing her name, Dick’s smile spread on his face, although he’d keep trying to hold it back, his mind getting funny ideas of what the two of them were doing down in the underground.

“It seems like you’ve been finding each other quite a lot recently,” he stated.

“Uh-huh” Jason hummed, agreeing with him but limiting himself to a short and final answer, knowing pretty well where this conversation would go if he stood around for too long. Ignoring anything else Dick had to tell him, he mounted his bike and drove away to work on finding the jewelry truck.

Hours later, when the sun was getting close to coming out of hiding, Jason stood under a railroad bridge, quietly watching the rain fall harshly down the sky and form large puddles on the asphalt. He had been riding his motorcycle all night, looking for that truck or any other indication of Penguin’s work. He drove and drove, but got nothing.

Now, standing there, he had difficulty keeping his eyes open. He awaited something. Something to happen to bring energy back into his night. Something to keep him busy and away from his own thoughts that had been torturing him all that time.

The rain hitting the metal structure over his head was soothing, and did not help his attempts to not fall asleep. Sometimes, a vehicle would pass by his spot and jolt him awake, or water accumulated somewhere would fall down all at once, making a huge noise out of nowhere. Other times, he’d hear mice or the sounds of footsteps coming up top, but would see nobody, animal or human, out there. Worst of all was when trains would pass by the bridge and make everything in a two mile radius to shake.

Tired mind meant thinking of things he wouldn’t want to think about when his mind was properly awake. He closed his eyes and could hear the sultry sound of her voice, or smell the spicy scent of her perfume. He needed to see her again. He needed to let off some steam, all that stored frustration. He needed to see her and make sure she had forgotten about his name. Remembering he did that, he threw his head back and released a heavy sight. It was stupid to have said it, and he didn’t know why he kept doing stupid shit whenever she was around.

Feeling safe in the loneliness, he took off his helmet and got some much needed fresh air. He leaned forward and laid his head down on his motorcycle’s panel, ready for a nap. Bruce wouldn’t notice. Penguin must have already left the city somehow and this whole night of waiting was for absolutely nothing.

Losing to tiredness, he began to dream of meeting Y/n and talking to her again. But the dream wasn’t long, because when he was getting to the good part, something made him jump out of his sleep.

“Is the night too much for the incredible Red Hood?” asked a voice he did not recognize and who he could not see, hiding from the lights, but who he felt came from right behind him. The voice was followed by the sound of two, or was it three, sets of footsteps approaching him.

“Or did that arrowed cunt give you the kiss of death too?” joked another voice, clearly familiar with the first one. Jason still could not see them yet, but knew very well where they stood.

“Are you guys scared to come out of the dark?” he taunted them. “It’s easy to tell me shit when I can’t see who I’m supposed to be fighting with.”

“Isn’t this guy is fucking cocky, Dan?” the second voice commented.

“How many of your friends have left with all working limbs after finding me during a night at their job?” Jason inquired, smirking at the men in the darkness, proud of his high rate of beat down assholes.

“One as many punches I’ll be gifting your face tonight.” one of them replied.

“Then come and get me.” he challenged, arms open in a call for battle.

Upon his call, two tall men left their place in the shadows and ran in his direction. One of them was skinny, and held what Jason identified as a knife in his hands. The other, smaller and a bit heavier, had something shining between the base of his fingers. Standing up from his bike, he cracked his neck, his arms and his fingers, waiting for the action to finally reach him and he slowly paced towards the two guys. Action was on again, baby.

The fact that he was outnumbered did not bother Jason in the slightest, as he defended himself with ease. The other two, although pretty confident when they ran towards him thinking they could give him some bruises, soon found out that defeating the Red Hood was no easy task. Their confidence was rapidly gone.

He managed to divide them. Turning to fight the first one, he grabbed him by his collar, threw him at a metal pillar, causing an echoing sound to reverberate around them, and the man to fall hard on the ground, grunting on the floor and touching his own his to check if they were okay. Now, changing his attention to the other man, he couldn’t find him at first glance, but saw this one trying to sneak around his back and hit him on the head with a large pipe he had found somewhere. Being a smarter fighter, Jason followed him by the noise he was making by breathing, walking and simply existing in around him. Jason knew exactly where he was and avoided the hit. Then, he grabbed the man’s hand and spun his arm around till it made a loud cracking sound and the guy made an even louder and painful scream.

“How many punches did you say you’d give me again?” Jason shrugged. Not a single drop of sweat in his body.

The moaning and groaning of the two guys on the floor were like a symphony to his ears, the perfect credit song for one of his favorite action sequences. Wanting to leave, he looked for his helmet as he didn’t see it where he had left it above his bike. Not on the floor either, and also not rolling to the street.

“Took ill on Thursday, Grew worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday”

The words came out of a third voice, perhaps the third pair of steps he had heard along the men’s. But different from the two idiots on the floor, this one definitely activated his fight or flight instincts.

“Solomon Grundy, born on a monday.” The big shadow of the creature turned into flesh and bone, red helmet in hands. Breaking the item as if he was breaking glass, the angry monster threw pieces on the floor, stepped on them with his bare feet and with heavy steps made his way to the Red Hood. “Solomon Grundy, born on a monday”

“Oh shit!” Jason exclaimed as the zombie-like walked closer. “Long time no see, buddy.”

As if disgusted by the nickname, Grundy darted towards Jason, who then ran towards the street in hopes to get more space to fight the big guy. He also hoped the wet asphalt could somehow aid him in bringing down the creature. He deviated several punches, while his own hit the spot a couple of times, but apparently didn’t cause his enemy much pain. Kicking the back of his knees, he made Grundy lose some balance and fall to his knees, giving Jason enough time to think of a plan.

Looking back at his bike, still where he was sitting under the bridge, he decided that the best plan was making a run for it and trying to escape. He didn’t know what and why had Grundy so mad and out of the sewers tonight, as he rarely left his safe spot, but he also didn’t want to stay any longer to figure that out.

“You work for Penguin too, Grudy?” he jokingly asked, making a run to his motorcycle. “Thought of you as better than that.”

“Solomon Grundy… works for nobody” he answered, punching the ground with both of his hands right at the place where Jason had just been standing. Almost out of the street, a car suddenly passed by — for what reason? — and blocked his way, and then another car showed up. Why are all those people driving towards Solomon Grundy? Have they all gone mad?

When he was too worried about the cars and the stupid people driving them, Jason didn’t notice when Grundy approached him and hit him right in his jaw, making him fly across the street. There on the floor, his head spun and everything went blurry as he tried but could not pull himself up from the ground. Damn it, he needed to get out of there.

Getting to his feet, lord knows how, and stumbling to make his way to where he wanted, he heard the swift swish of projectiles flying by his ears, who were then followed by Grundy’s screams and complaints. Two. Three. Four more things hit him, but somewhat running with a spinning head had Jason’s vision go everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

As if that wasn’t enough, suddenly the honking of a car and a pair of headlights were in his face, as he felt the floor shaking from the heavy steps that were also heading his way. Trying to rush, he nearly fell onto the floor yet again, but a loud crash sounded through the whole street and something knocked him down.

His vision was getting darker, and all voices sounded distant, but this one he still could hear clearly.

“Stay with me, Jason. Don’t close your eyes”told him the voice, this time it was soft and sultry. He felt his entire body ache, and his eyes couldn’t stay open even if she begged him. “Hey, Jay.” she called him again, tapping his cheeks with care to try to keep him awake. “Stay with me, please. Stay awake.”

But it was too late. Soon, everything was black.

His head banged with pain. Really, it hurt like crazy. It was not the best sensation to wake up to. His vision still hadn’t settled too, still spinning as he last remembered them. He tried to inspect the room he was in, but he couldn’t identify where he was. He woke up god knows where, but the real question in his mind was in how he got there.

Remembering everything that happened before he blacked out, Jason tried to stand up from the bed he was laid on, noticing his missing shirt and the curatives glued to his chest. He sat at the tip of the cushion, placing his bare feet on the cold floor.

The small room he was in had only the bed he was on and a small table by its side, but it was randomly adorned with small plants, colored glass decorations and a pile of old books at one corner. This didn’t look like neither his or his brother’s home, and it was too small to be anywhere inside the manor. This also did not look like a cell, or a hostage room. It felt too cozy for that.

Gosh, he thought, placing his head on his hands and massaging his temples, I’m knackered.

Forcing his body to comply with his mind, he stood up on his feet, but it immediately felt weak and fell backwards onto the bed.

“Easy, Red” someone rushed beside him, holding his sides to check if he was okay. “You’re still dizzy from all the pain medication I gave. I must admit, I’m not the best doctor you could find.”

“Hmm?” he grunted, confused when he recognized the voice.

“Baby, you were knocked out and saved by Grundy last night. If he didn’t jump after you, you’d have been smashed by that car, like a smashed potato!Jason.” Y/n explained as her face was becoming clear in his eyes. “And I have to be honest here, after finally seeing your face after this long, I can tell you it’d have been a real waste if all of that had happened.”

When this fell to his ears, his hands shot up to his face, noticing his domino mask gone.

“Where am I?” he asked, still groggy.

“At my place.”

“You had the courage to take me to your home?” he questioned, incredulous. Putting her index finger on her lips, she requested.

“Don’t tell anybody.”

“Wh-what…”

“Relax. Just let me check your bruises now that you’re up.” she cut him, grabbing a pastel yellow bag from the table next to the bed, pushing his arms away and settling herself on his lap.

Not believing what was happening, Jason could only stare at her wide eyed as she removed his hair away from his forehead, and cleaned the cuts on his face with a cotton ball.

She was uncomfortably close. Dangerously close to him, and he didn’t know how to react. Her face was mere inches from his, and, as she continued to clean his bruises, he could feel her hot breath hitting his face. He had to blink once, or twice, or thrice, to try to recollect himself and to try and push her away from his lap, but she hooked her lean legs tightly around his waist, silently telling him she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t touch me.” he complained, trying to keep his face away from her touch by awkwardly throwing it back.

“How am I supposed to bandage you up if I can’t touch you?” she rolled her eyes, but he could see a smile gracing her face. Her arms on her hips, she finally had a chance to get a proper look at what she was wearing. She had on a gray tank top and jean shorts that barely covered her legs and left her beautiful tights on display for him to see… and touch, as he placed his hand on top of them “involuntarily”.

“Then get off me” he replied through his gritted teeth.

Pissed off, she straightened her back and looked right into his eyes. Jason suddenly felt small as she proceeded to challenge him.

“Make me.”

And when she didn’t get a response from him, nor a shake of his head or a noise from his throat, she smirked back at him, going back to tending to his wounds.

Jason stood there, quietly and still, watching as she cared for his wounds with utmost concentration. When she was done cleaning his face and chest, after carefully removing the curatives that had been protecting his scratches there, she fished for some medicine to apply on him. She had put everything on the bed, all at an arm's distance so she wouldn’t need to leave his lap to grab anything until she was done.

He winced when she applied an antibiotic cream on his cuts and he felt the itching starting, but she scolded him to get himself together and let her finish with the rest. When he still showed agony on his face, she blew at the spots and softened his pain.

There, on top of him, she was constantly moving. He could feel her crotch sliding against his own, making his mind go places where it shouldn’t be going right now. His hands started sweating, and he tried to clean them on his pants, before placing them again on her legs.

“A-hem” he fake coughted, trying to get her attention. She simply shushed him.

Moving on top of him once again, slightly rising herself from his lap and standing with her knees on the bed, her boobs were then leveled with his eyes. He tried to look away, out of respect, after all he was still raised to be a gentleman, but he lost battle to his worst side, it getting control of him as he threw some glances at her cleavage.

Still on her knees, she lost a bit of balance, almost falling on her back if Jason’s strong hands weren’t at her back ready to steady her back into his lap. A soft thanks left her lips, something that shouldn’t have made his mind go mad, but lord help him, he was going insane.

He was entranced by her. By her beauty, by her kind touch. By her hot breath and the soft smell of coconut shampoo emanating from her hair. He watched her bite her bottom lip in concentration, sometimes switching habits and sucking her cheeks in as she focused on the task at hand.

“Done.” she announced, smiling at him briefly before taking the medicine bag and organizing the bottles, sprays, tubes and bandages inside.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He couldn’t look away. And he also couldn’t let her go too far, growing needy of her touch and presence. Growing addicted to finally having her this close. His hands pressed tighter around her waist and tights, impeding her from moving any further.

“You can let me go now, Jason.” And the way she pronounced his name. Oh, the way she pronounced his name. It sounded as if an angel sang him the prettiest of lullabies, or as if the devil seductively listed him all of the most delicious things the world had to give. Her plump lips moved and he got hypnotized.

“I want to kiss you.” he stated, without really thinking of what he was doing.

“You’re drunk on the meds.” she joked.

“No” he shook his head, sitting up straight and getting dangerously close to her face. His lips lingering over hers. They stared at each other's eyes like they were both hypnotized by each other. Nah, they were hypnotized. Their eyes were low but never leaving the other, their breaths mixing together.

Placing a hand on her neck, thumb caressing patterns on her skin, Jason tangled his fingers on her hair and pushed her down onto him. Their mouths collided with each other and moved in perfect synchrony, in the wettest of kisses. Her arms wrapped around his neck, but didn’t stay there for long, as she felt the need to have them all over his muscular chest.

His tongue soon begged for entrance, and she allowed him in without any reluctance.

His hands also roamed her body, desperate to touch her every inch. He drew lines up and down her back, lifting her top all the way to where it reached her bra. He played with its hook as their mouths still danced in the most intense kiss, and unlocked it before she even noticed. He was desperate to take her shirt off, but he didn’t break the kiss. However, hard things had to be done to achieve greatness.

Finally breaking the kiss, he took her shirt off over her head and tried to do the same with her unhooked bra, but her arms locked on her side stopped him from doing it. Before he had a chance to complain, she closed the gap between their lips again, restarting the fire they had briefly put off.

They didn’t let go of each other. There was no need for space, or air. They were consumed by the other taste, the smell, the touch. Starved, actually. Jason was starved. He didn’t know he craved her this bad until he had her in his arms, until her hands roamed all over his body and her hips gridded against his cock with fast movements. When she broke the kiss for air once more, he pouted his lips and she let out a laugh.

“Easy, boy.” she mocked, but soon threw herself on top of him again, laying him down on the bed, scratching his nude chest with her nails, the pain making his pants feel even tighter. As her hands got lower, they soon got to his waist line, where the tightness was making go crazy, agony climbing up his spine anxiously waiting for his release. She played around with the button of his jeans, teasing his patience, caressing his dick over all that fabric. It felt like torture, just as she liked. She like to torture him so bad, and he always knew it. Her hands were full, his side filling them completely, and they kept working their way up and down, often combining the movements with the tightening of her grasp around it and driving him so close to release without even having his member freed.

He was so close, gosh, so close. But then she stopped, his eyes instantly opening as he looked after hers, begging her for an explanation.

“You should rest.” she answered his grunts in complaint, getting off his lap and standing up between his opened legs. He quickly sat up from the bed too, grabbing at the base of her ass, desperately not wanting her to leave him. “I thought you wanted to kill me” she rested her forehead on his, joking at his change of behavior within just a few hours.

“I’m way past my killing days” he said, still out of breath.

She looked him in the eyes once more, staring deep into them. They didn’t hold longing anymore, there was no desire. Instead, her look was soft, warming. He felt safe under it, all his fire suddenly, but not completely, gone. Hooking her bra, she then reached for her shirt he had thrown right behind his back when they were still attached by their mouths. Having to lower herself a little bit to grab it, she provocatively placed her chest right down his nose. Still pumped with desire, Jason kissed the exposed part of her breast, feeling their warmth envelop his wet lips.

“When the effects of the meds are gone” she started, holding his head up by his chin, making him look to her eyes once more. “We can decide if we want to keep playing or not.”

Taking his hands away from her legs, she moved away from him without breaking eye contact. She grabbed a bottle out of the table, taking out of it a small pill. Putting it between her teeth, she walked to Jason, him immediately holding the base of her ass again, and lowered her head so their lips touched one more time. She allowed the pill to drop into his mouth, and as she broke the kiss, he swallowed it alongside all this frustration he could not seem to let off.

Walking out, she left him alone.

He dropped on the bed. Head going back to just moments ago, when she was on top of him and he felt… deep. He felt… he felt his consciousness leave his body. He felt his lids falling, too heavy for him to keep open. He felt it all change, from color to black, once again.

“So, you’re alive?” Dick questioned as Jason stood up for his sofa, protecting his eyes from the sunlight.

Jason was confused. So, was that all a dream?

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood smut #jason todd x female reader

1K notes · View notes

i-smoke-chapstick · 2 months

Text

'COME ON EILEEN!, [PART ONE]

-GOTHAM!VICTOR ZSASZ X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You're not used to being seen, especially not by Jim Gordan. And especially not by Don Carmine Falcone.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!victor x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! This is a 4 part fic. LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is still in highschool). Some gore in the beginning. Takes a while for reader to meet Victor. Can I write a gotham fic without Victor being obsessive? Victor ends up getting REALLY protective later on. But also, eventual really soft Victor. Like, you're his world. Set during season 1.

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR,

Special thanks to @adalwolfgang for giving me the courage to write this teehee

♫ “You are far too young and clever.” Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

Your life had been strange. Ever since you moved to this goddamn city. You're parents thought it would be such a grand idea; move to the city of innovation. With WayneTech and a good classy old fashioned vibe. More like the city of crime, you think. This place is an absolute shit hole!

Well, sometimes it's a shit hole. Other times you understand the strange appeal. The school wasn't half bad, aside from the weird drug dealers you saw counting money in the hallways.

You made plenty of acquaintances, but not enough, really. All of the gothamite students kind of stuck to their own. Rich cliques and street trash. You didn't really fit in as a new comer.

Everything got even more complicated one day after class. You decided to stay late at the library, brushing up on whatever homework you had. Apparently you stayed later than you thought you had, because once you were done, the night had clouded over into a cool darkness.

You knew you shouldn't be by yourself at night in gotham. It was the biggest rule to living in this city. So, you quickly packed your shit and left.

Coming outside, the parking lot was damn near empty. You gripped the straps of your book bag and centered yourself. It would be a small walk home. No harm no foul.

Well, your false confidence quickly died out when you heard a man wailing from behind you. You wanted to keep walking, but you couldn't. Damn you and your moral compass.

You made the decision to sneak a peak behind you. Just behind the overarching brick wall of Gotham high, laid a student. And another man hanging over him. With a bloody baseball bat.

Your ears began to ring as you saw the face of the student, practically decimated and beaten inwards. You could only make out the vague words of "Help me!" and "This will teach you to bring me my money on time." Their voices overlapped, and the sound of metal hitting skin in a loud ca-thunk and a crunch. The man getting beat looked at you for help; well, with what was left of his face.

You immediately knew this was a weird drug deal altercation, and also none of your business. You turned on your heel and bolted, running for your life. The sound of the baseball and the sight of your fellow student beaten bloody haunted you the whole way home.

The next morning, it was all over the news. Well, not all over the news. Front page scoops were reserved for "Maroni's new take over! What's next for Gotham's Underground?" and "Wayne Enterprises launches new aerospace tech!" But if you looked hard enough and switched a few channels, you'd see the headline clear as day.

"Gotham High Student Found Beaten To Death on Campus"

You couldn't eat your breakfast that morning. A few bites an you needed to throw it up. You couldn't erase the memory. You did nothing.

You mustered up the strength to go to school though, knowing you would have too, or your mom would kill you. You felt sick the whole time getting dressed, brushing your teeth, and closing the door. What's worse was the walk to school, seeing your steps retraced from the night before. The city seemed awfully more cheery in the daylight.

When you finally made it to the campus, your heart dropped. At least 3 cop cars pulled up, caution tape and flashing camera lights. The body of the man was in the same spot you'd seen him in.

A cop was instructing wandering and gossiping students to get a move on to class and to stop staring. You heard them whispering. But you stayed stuck, unable to move. The memories played in your head.

You could hear the muffled yelling of the cop telling you to move, but you didn't seem to register it. Neither could you register the gruff voice of a man telling the cop to wait a minute.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned around in a spasm, coming face to face with Jim fucking Gordan.

You'd seen him on the TV before. He'd been the cities hero as of late. Took out the balloon man. Red hood gang. Even the Wayne killer. Tons of others. You swallowed.

In a surprisingly gentle movement, he firmly grasped your shoulder and guided you to a more private area, away from the judgey glances of other students and cops who merely rolled their eyes at him. One in particular, which you knew to be his partner, Harvey Bullock, let out an obnoxious groan while taking a bite of a Sandwich.

"Hello. My name is Jim Gordan." He spoke to you softly.

"I know who you are." The words came out more defensive than you intended them too. He backed up a little bit, mouth open and nodding. He politely removed his hand from your shoulder.

He flashed a small, awkward smile. It made you furrow your brows.

"Did you see anything that happened here last night? Anything at all." His voice lowered to a whisper. Something about his voice was gentle, charismatic. His words illicited the memory of the student in a pool of his own blood.

Jim studied you and your every movement, and when you flinched, his eyes lit up. But he kept the same serious and soft expression.

"You did, didn't you?" He urged, bending down just a tad to be at your level. You backed up. "Listen, I need you to tell me what you saw."

You stayed silent. He inhaled through his nose.

"No one is going to hurt you. I promise. Just tell me your name, give me a statement." His tone is more firm this time, and nods in the far off direction of his partner. "I don't want to have to drag you down to the station."

You mulled over what he said, before sighing.

You bit your lip, and spilled your guts.

He took note of everything you said eagerly. And when he was done, he gave you a small thank-you. You nodded, and assumed that would be the end of things.

Hah! You were wrong.

Almost half the student body had seen you and Jim Gordan talking. Before long, you were the talk of the town. The newbie in town was privy to a case with Jim Gordan.

When Gordan caught the culprit? Now that was front page news. One of Maroni's men caught in the act of beating an underage student half to death over a few milligrams of coke. Selling it to minors actively. It reflected poorly on the entirety of his underground empire. Apparently even criminals had a conscious.

And in a strange way, you also got to reap some benefits. You made a lot of new friends now, on both sides of the school. The rich cliques applauded you for helping rid the city of cretins and return it to its former glory. Some rumors had spread, and now the street trash students thought you were some badass who gave Gordan a tough time before helping him. It was all bullshit- you thought. You just helped with a stupid case.

But now, it seemed you were the only one with a hand in both pools of water. And god, it was a lot of connections. You knew about every murder cover-up the rich kids parents paid for. You knew about every ATM robbery and drug deal the street kids made. Every creepy teacher sleeping with a student. Every staff member who faked their taxes. You were a walking encyclopedia of all the crimes in Gotham committed by students and adults alike.

You didn't ask for it. But...you were glad you could help, in away. None of your friends were really real. No, the only real friend you had was Jim Gordan.

He'd made it a point to come to you for almost everything now. Figured you made a better information source than penguin. Plus, you didn't ask for anything in return. You were just thankful for the company.

He'd come down and meet you in the library when he needed you, after school, away from prying eyes. He'd sneak the both of you into a storage closet, before asking for your help.

You'd asked him a few times if you could get involved more; first hand. You thought you could do more than just being a reference. But he always just gave you that awkward smile. "Next time." He'd promised. Next time never came.

You were getting tired of your role as an informant. And you weren't the only one who noticed.

You damn near kicked and clawed. You woke up one day, blindfolded and strapped to a leather chair. Light leaked through the blindfold, and you went to scream. But there was tape covering your mouth

You knew you shouldn't have told Jim Gordan any of this shit. God, were you a snitch?!? A rat for the GCPD. Of course some gang was going to tie you up and kill you at one point!

You felt your chest heave as you struggled against your restraints.

A voice boomed, and it shut up your struggling.

"Miss L/N." It was a mans voice. Much older. "Forgive me for shocking you."

The blindfold was taken off your eyes by another figure behind you. You squinted as the light hit your retinas, and you stood face to face with Don Carmine Falcone.

You were rendered speechless.

"Let me give you some context here," He continued, and you felt your heart drop. "I have a proposition, of sorts."

You breathed against the tape on your mouth, deathly silent. A proposition. What the hell did that mean? Were you going to get to choose the way you died?

"See, I admire those who have methodical approaches. Good work ethic. You seem to have both." He circled you, standing up. "I heard whispers of a young girl that seemed to have wormed her way into the GCPD."

He paused, looking you directly in the eye.

"You are an incredibly useful asset, Miss L/N. Does Gordan tell you that enough?" The man urged. You felt your heart rate settle; and your mind do flips. No, you thought. He really doesn't.

"...I propose, you do a job for me. A small one, I assure you." He put his hand up. "You attend school with a student whose father is deep into Maroni's operation. I assume you know who I'm speaking of."

You do.

"I also assume you know all about where said man resides, with the rest of his crew. I want you to tell me where exactly that is. And, I want you to go there with Victor."

The words coming out of his mouth were terrifying. Victor...Victor, Victor, Victor. You repeated the name over and over. And then it clicked.

Victor Zsasz.

Oh god, this couldn't be happening. A million questions rushed through out your head. Jim had told you about his incident with him.

You managed to turn to look over your shoulder in the direction Falcone nodded too. Sure enough, there the man stood.

Victor looked at you stoically, leather hand coming up to wave at you, like this was a joke. A frightening smile played on his lips as he took in your shaking form.

You looked back to Falcone, and he gently tore off the tape covering your mouth, and undid the restraints on your right hand. You breathed shakily.

"Why do you want me to go with Zsasz? I get being an informant- why do you want me to go kill a bunch of guys?!?" Your voice sounded strained. You meant for it to be more confident. You flexed your wrist where the restraints had been.

Falcone nodded. "That's for me to know." He stated bluntly, obviously not further elaborating. "Do we have a deal?"

"And If I say no?" You wavered, watching the Don stretch out a hand to shake on it. Falcone merely pursed his lips and frowned.

In a swift movement, he motioned back to Victor who stared you down intently. Victor mouthed the words, "I'm gonna stab you." With a stabbing gesture of his hand.

You swallowed.

And then you shook Falcone's hand.

#x reader #gotham #gotham x reader #batman #batman rogues #batman x reader #gotham villains x reader #batman rouges gallery #dc comics #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz headcanons #gotham victor zsasz #victor zsasz gotham

50 notes · View notes

firewalkzwit · 8 months

Text

runt // jonathan crane x reader. (1)

Chapter 1. Prelude

cross-posted on AO3

masterlist

Meticulous analysis of her own motivations had driven Y/N to come to the conclusion that her hatred was justified. Nothing was done without something profoundly belonging to one's own unresolved conflicts being involved in the decisions and paths of choice. Such was the case of the Batman, she'd concluded. Whoever he was behind that mask, he was not pursuing his role as a masked 'protector of Gotham' without a great degree of personal motive beyond selfless devotion to the wellbeing of the city. Long had she studied this concept meticulously, as to do introspection on her own reasons behind her new objectives. The Batman and herself found congruence in the belief that violence was an indispensable tool to maintain order, humanity after all was nothing but an attempt to break a deeply embedded bond with primitive, animal instincts, such as sin. However it was this particular ethic that took from Y/N the only person who stood by her side since the day she was born.

Her brother, like a forbidden fenix, had found in the drug business what was ethically questionable, but an opportunity to a new life at last. Poverty had reigned in as many generations as their family registered for, which were not many, but enough to bring a loss of hope at ever escaping the circumstances. The drug business was dangerous, but her brother was sly and grown to be a street-smart individual, he knew where he could mess and where he couldn't. Finding also a strike of luck in the fact that where they lived -a little apartment above a Chinese-owned laundry shop, was a precarious condominium where a low-ranked pawn from Carmine Falcone also had his home. This kid had befriended Y/N's brother and recommended him with Falcone, being the crucial connection to begin working for the druglord.

While unable to approve of his line of work, Y/N couldn't find it in her morality to refuse his dirty money. Like Tony Montana he'd return home with the fruit of his criminality and she'd accept it like a gift, one with a catch, but her brother always managed to sound reassuring enough to make the odds of something happening to him seem lower than they were. Oh, was it such a crime to be gullible and young, and believe your older brother? Y/N had once tried to believe that she simply didn't have what it took to stop him, or that it wasn't her place in his story, fate had planted it's seed on him and his demise was only meant to happen the second he agreed to dance with the Devil.

Despite her brother's rapidly increasing earnings, she felt it a moral obligation to maintain her job as a janitor in Gotham University. She was no Will Hunting, but she did find a particular itch of interest in the fields of sociology and psychology; studies of human condition. The job allowed her to ocasionally lean besides the auditoriums to listen to the lectures of intellectual professors. Her mind was like a sponge, and her curiosity drove her to absorve every drop of information she'd hear, and study it later in her free time.

It was one of those days where she spent some hours off the clock on campus, long done with her cleaning duties yet attentively listening to the lesson behind the door. Had she left on time maybe the butterfly effect that spiraled into the end of her brother's life could have somehow been different. Had she left later, perhaps, something in the trail of events could have flipped a switch to prevent what happened to him. But she didn't, she stayed and listened to a seminar on social conducts and masses, while somewhere in Gotham her brother received punch after punch from the Batman as God's punishment for his temptation and greed.

If the Bat had intended to kill him or not was not of her concern, as intentions didn't free the vigilante from having her brother's blood on his hands. It was while checking the stock of a recently dropped off container in the portion of the port Falcone had used his filthy money to buy that Batman had striked. Her brother tried -in a naive act of loyalty, to defend the property of his employer. Poor boy, forgotten as another dog of the drug world, but to Y/N a victim of his circumstances trying to make the best out of the little life had to offer for them. Died in the hospital as he awaited for interrogation, his insides mashed into a gorey pureé of organs that spat their own blood and failed to survive the brutality of their wounds.

Sure, the Batman may have saved damsels in distress from having their purses snatched by low life thieves, or prevented a hypothetical drug addict from getting another taste of their self-indulgence, but was he really saving people? Doing something worthwhile? For all she knew, all his masked activism was of no use if they had no effect in the long-term and the masses, and in the process took the lives and resources of hard-working low income people. She was no fool, Y/N had obviously assessed the possibility that maybe what happened to her brother was, again, a matter of fate, a divine punishment for succumbing to the desire for easy money. But then again, his motivations were only honest, and he was looking out for his and his family's best interest. What more does a man have to do to be noble and worth of living without being punished for collateral misdoings that are only human?

Falcone had presented his distant condolences in the shape of a young man knocking at her door, offering the drug lord's words of comfort and a pitiful offer for a job in his headquarters at The Penguin's Iceberg Lounge. "A pretty face like yours could be pretty popular." spoke the raspy voice of The Penguin as his grotesquely large fingers held her chin. The Iceberg Lounge didn't belong to Falcone, but his connections allowed him to offer Y/N a job as a waitress in the place. Had she any choice? Not really, with her brother now dead, the income as a janitor was not nearly as much as the inviting sum of tips that sweetened her ear with the same voice of temptation that once spoke to her brother. Besides, she did need the money, and building links -even if they were mostly symbolic, with the Bat's enemies could grant her a closer look to the new channel of all her hatred.

It was once that Y/N begun to work for The Penguin that she fully committed in the sinful night-life. Her entire scheme and survival now relied on crime, sin and immorality. She had now signed her own contract, and indulged fully into the world of darkness and depravity, one that was once unknown to her and was now tied to her identity. She fed off of other's lust and crime, making her a criminal herself. But she no longer felt the fear or rejection for the underworld her brother's job had once made her feel, she now embraced it as her own for the sake of greater motivations. Like a legacy she had chosen to carry on, taking the job got her to quickly see first-hand the very embodiment of hedonism and sheer self-indulgence. The energy in the club was heavy, dark and evil, but Y/N resisted her days through it and engaged in her friendlies as a standard procedure for the night, meeting interesting people in the process.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #the batman #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #cillian murphy #batman rogues #nolanverse batman #slowburn #angst

77 notes · View notes

riddledwithrats · 1 year

Text

In The Midnight Hour

Oz Cobblepot x afab!Reader

Chapter One: Life Is A Mystery

-chapter two, chapter three

Chapter Summary: Y/n reflects on her situation as her interest in Oz grows.

Story Summary: Y/n is Carmine Falcones girl/sugar baby, but she finds herself in deep trouble when she begins to develop feelings for Falcones right-hand man, Oz Cobblepot.

Words: 2,630

Warnings: mention of sex, violence, vague dubcon, sugar baby dynamics, forbidden love, vague religious imagery, abuse/domestic violence, 18+

“Now, I don’t know if I see it that way…” You trail off and look at the other women around the table. You weren’t sure how you joined this conversation with the dancers here at the club but you weren’t opposed to it.

“How do you see it then?” Said one of the girls, her face scrunching up a little in curiosity.

“Well, I don’t know. What if he didn’t give them the apple because he was evil, what if he was in love with Eve? And that’s why he tricked them into eating the apple? So that she’d have free will, she’d have the ability to choose him over Adam.” It wasn’t exactly orthodox, and quite possibly it didn’t even make sense, but ever since you were a kid you’ve seen it this way. It just seemed more plausible, more romantic than what everyone else said.

The girls look at you quizzically, but before they can say anything a rough voice cracks through the booming club music playing.

“What the hell are you talking about, girl?”

You look up at Carmine, his hollow eyes staring down at you incredulously. Nothing, you tell him, Just nonsense. You stand up and follow him, merging into his entourage. A large man stands next to you and Carmine, you’ve seen him lots before and you know by now that he’s an important person in all of this. Even if you hadn’t seen him before, just his presence alone demands attention.

You don’t know his name, you weren’t included in Carmine's business. If anything he might just kill you if you got too close… Or maybe just for fun. The man shuffles a little next to you, getting a little antsy under your gaze. He looks down at you, his deep brown eyes searching yours. There’s a large scar running through his top lip and over his right cheek. It looks old, and it makes you wonder just how he got it.

The men are having a conversation about something you’ve never even heard of, and the man next to you chimes in quite a bit. Even as the elevator comes to a stop and they all start piling out into Falcone's office above the club, they continue their incessant chattering.

You try to be inconspicuous as you try and listen for the man’s name. The other guys like calling him Penguin, but by the way his face scrunches up every time they say it you can assume he doesn’t necessarily like that name. You trail behind Carmine, watching as Penguin hobbles around. That must be why they call him that. It makes you roll your eyes as you think about it, these men still act like middle schoolers.

“Oz,” Carmine says suddenly, the Penguin turns towards him expectantly. Oh, so that’s his name. It’s… endearing. You don’t pay attention to what Carmine says next but soon enough he, Oz, and a few of the other guys start a game of pool.

Your job is to sit and look pretty, so you sit down on the couch to get ready for a long day of work. Technically, Falcone is supposed to be paying you to have sex with him but, after a few unsuccessful tries, he’s realized he can’t do that anymore. And when you first suggested maybe getting some pills, he smacked you upside the head and told you to get out of his sight. So, you don’t suggest anything anymore.

You feel eyes on you for the next few hours, you try to ignore it as you text a friend of yours to pass the time. You had assumed it was Falcone, but out of curiosity, you take a glance at the pool table full of men behind you. Deep brown eyes stare back before quickly turning back to the game. The hair stands on the back of your neck, Oz has been sneaking glances at you for the past few hours.

This newfound information makes you feel uneasy, but excited too all at the same time. A man hasn’t dared look at you since you got with Falcone. Everyone believes that you and he are dating, he’s insisted that no one knows about the checks he sends you or the arrangement you have. You wonder if maybe he’s ashamed.

You lose yourself in thought and it isn’t until later that night that you think about Oz again. Carmine has a small penthouse not far from the Iceberg Lounge, and that’s where you lay side by side with him as he lets out broken snores. Just ten minutes ago he had finished trying to please himself with your mouth, tonight he had gotten it up just enough to cum and dribble down your throat.

As you lay silently next to him, you absentmindedly wonder what Oz would be like in bed. You’re sure the limp would restrict him a little, and while he may be older than you, he still looks like he’s got some energy left. You’d probably peg him to be around mid to late fifties, which is younger than Carmine who’s deep in his sixties by now.

You never really had an issue with finding older men attractive, in fact, you often sought them out. Before Carmine, you never really had any issues with abuse or differing opinions in a relationship with an older man. Often the only issue was that they never understood your jokes or reverences and you never understood theirs. But it was only a matter of time til you got mixed up with the wrong man. Carmine is not a gentle person, he often teases you under the guise of being sweet but his tone always gives him away.

The first time he hit you was terrifying. You had listened in on a conversation you shouldn’t have, but lucky for you it wasn’t murder-worthy. He still had to teach you a lesson though, there’s no way he’d let you off easy.

You turn on your side, the cold sheets twisting around your naked body. You wonder if Oz has a gentle hand and if he’s a kind man. You scoff internally, what man in this industry is kind? But you can’t stop yourself from imagining him trailing his thick, warm fingers over your shoulder and down your arm. You think of how his breath might fan over your neck as he whispers sweet nothings to you in his heavy voice.

Subconsciously, you compare Oz to Carmine. You know it’s wrong to do so, but is it wrong to wish for better? To want out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself?

The next few days you watch Oz interact with the dancers, and how polite and kind he is to them. They often seem very comfortable in his presence, like he offers them a safe haven through the uncertainty of the club. He knows just how difficult and dangerous it can be for girls here, especially down in the 44 Below.

You catch on to the fact that if a dancer wants to pick up a shift at the 44, he often talks them out of it and pays them whatever they need. It makes your heart race. How can someone be so generous? Why does he care?

But you also see the other side of him as well, especially in meetings with Falcone. You can tell Oz is teetering on the precipice, he’s cracking under the constant berating and ridicule Carmine and the others throw at him. You can see the fire in his eyes every time they make a comment, but you can also see when he catches his tongue. He’s a smart man, he knows when to shut up and when to strike.

One day he tells Carmine off in front of you. Carmine had said something nonchalant about Oz fucking some of the girls he employs, that must’ve been the tipping point for Oz because he yells and breaks Carmine's nose in a second and the old man has nothing he can do except fall back into his chair and sit in silence. You rush over to Carmine in a faux show of concern when in reality, your belly fills with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time and suddenly you feel the urge to change your panties.

Carmine does his best to push you away once Oz leaves the room, satisfied with himself. Carmine looks at you in disdain.

“You think this is funny? Think I couldn’t have fought back if I wanted? I OWN THIS CITY!” He shouts at you and backs you into a wall, you know this is just a desperate grab for control but it still frightens you every time he does it. He knows his grasp is slipping, he knows he’s not going to be around forever.

As you trip and fall onto the floor he kicks you once, deep in your stomach and trods off to find a bathroom to clean up in. You cough and cradle your now bruised belly, you stand up shakily when he comes back into the room and mumbles in your direction.

He sits down in the leather chair he always sits in and beckons you closer, he has tissues in his nose and a bruise is already forming.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He says in his mock-apologetic tone. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You nod and sit in his lap for about ten minutes, he seems defeated. When you first had agreed to be his girl, you were attracted to him, though as the rose colored glasses were lifted off your eyes, you came to see him for who he truly was. There was no heart beating in his ancient body. Just cruel and blatant dishonesty.

That night he had told you to go back to your apartment, to recover from the shock of the night. As you left the club you saw Oz leaving as well, climbing carefully into his purple Maserati. Alone. Every time you watched him leave the club he was always alone. It didn’t matter what arm candy he had with him that night, he never took them home and he was never seen alone with them. He’s not that kind of man it seems.

As you toss and turn during the night, trying to get some semblance of sleep you take into account the man beside you. Carmine Falcone. Possibly the most dangerous man in the city… But maybe he’s losing his grip? Maybe there’s someone bigger, someone badder who can take charge.

You hope Oz takes charge. Whether or not Carmine is willing to admit it, Oz holds more power than he does. He owns the club, he’s the boss of everyone here. Carmine is the vermin in the attic, hiding from something he’s destined to collide with.

Carmine doesn’t even own the penthouse he takes you back to, it’s in Oz’s name. Everything Carmine has, never was and never will be his own truly. He isn’t what he used to be, he’s washed up and losing his once unshakable power.

The next morning is hazy, you always leave the penthouse before Falcone as he doesn’t have any real or proper job he has to get to. You, on the other hand, have become fairly good friends with the dancers from the club. They like it when you come to hang out with them before the club opens fully, and it’s a great chance to get to watch Oz in his element.

You’ve been growing more and more interested in him, you’re beginning to worry if Falcone has noticed. If he has, he hasn’t mentioned it. You haven’t seen him jealous, and you’re worried about how he would react if he knew of your fascination with Oz.

“So, I told him to get lost obviously,” one of the girls, Natalia, says, dressed in a tight dark pink strapless dress. “I mean, what guy goes around asking if you wanna be his mistress?”

The rest of girls reply, murmuring their distaste.

“What about you? Whats the worst encounter you’ve had with a guy, Y/n?” Another girl, Hailey, asks you in her soft voice. You think for a few seconds but nothing really comes to mind, and you don’t think gossiping about Falcone would be a good idea.

“Oh, I don’t know, I can’t really think of one.” You laugh nervously, you feel bad for not providing the girls the entertainment they so obviously wish they could get.

A chorus of awe’s and boo’s sing through the little dressing room, some girls are half-way done getting ready while some others have been ready for a while. Through the lighthearted chaos, a voice you know by heart calls out.

“Excuse me, girls.” Oz knocks on the half open door, and steps in when the girls tell him he can. “Ah, there you are! Mr. Falcones been looking for you everywhere, doll.”

His arms are stretched out in greeting towards you, almost like he’s waiting for a hug but they fall back to his sides quickly as he shifts his weight from leg to leg. He’s never spoken to you directly, it sends a shiver down your spine. You whisper your thanks to him and look down at the floor, it feels like it’s the only thing you can do as Oz leads you out of the room.

You both meander to the steps down from the dressing room, close to where Oz’s office is. The club is mostly empty except for waiters and bartenders getting things ready for a night of business. Oz is walking slightly slower than you, his big, warm hand resting gently on your shoulder as you wait patiently. He takes the stairs slowly, one step at a time.

“So, uh, you and Falcone been together long?” He flashes a charming grin your way, his gold teeth shining under the dim light of the club. He seems in pain as he asks the question, but you chalk it up to the stairs being a burden on his bad leg. You look down, listening to the soft clink of the barely visible brace connected to his right dress shoe.

“No, not really,” You reply softly, you’ve always been a quiet person but something about him brings the shyness out of you. “Only a few months.”

“Oh, I-uh, I hope he ain’t treating you too bad. I know he can be a little rough with his girls.” He leans in closer to you as you both make your way to the elevator, he says it quietly like he doesn’t want anyone else but you to hear.

“He…” You have to decide whether or not you want to lie to him. “He has his bad days, like anyone else.”

You can see the recognition in his eyes as he absorbs your words, his hand rests firmly on your shoulder as the elevator doors shut and it takes you slowly up to Carmines office. Oz sighs and looks at you, not with pity, but with a sort of melancholy. Like he wishes it didn’t have to be this way.

Your mind flicks back to the conversation with the dancers a few weeks ago, about Eve and the Apple. You wonder how long it’ll take before this serpent before you hands you an apple of his own making. You dismiss the idea as the elevator dings and comes to a stop, the doors open to reveal Carmine already lounging about in his leather chair.

You step in hesitantly and head over to him, only glancing back at Oz to see the look of regret that comes over him as the elevator doors shut once more and he’s on his way back down to the club.

#hoooo weee i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope it’s a good start to the storyyyy #oz cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #farrell!penguin x reader #the batman (2022)#my writing

80 notes · View notes

hollandorks · 1 year

Text

shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter eighteen

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

a/n: I am so sorry this took so long to get posted! In case you missed it, I had my wisdom teeth removed which knocked me on my ass for a full week. But during that time I rewatched Daredevil and hyperfixated again, all of which created the perfect storm of writer’s block for this fic. But the newest chapter is finally here! Thanks for your patience! Only a handful of chapters left, plus the epilogue...

Series Masterlist

word count: 4070

She thought she heard the words “For your own good,” before darkness overtook her and the world fell away.

Bruce’s POV

The moment Bruce figured out where the shot had come from, he panicked.

Y/n had been looking to see if she could find a lead–and the Riddler was up there, shooting. Where was y/n?

He was already reeling from Falcone’s confession. Whatever I know, whatever I’ve done, it’s all going with me to my grave…even that little incident last year with the gala.

Falcone had been responsible for all of it–whether it was to wipe out those like the ex-mayor who were gaining too much power, or if he had been the puppet master all along, Falcone had been responsible.

He didn’t have time for those thoughts, though. Y/n was up there in that apartment building somewhere, where the Riddler was shooting.

Bruce burst through the window into the apartment building, every nerve singing with adrenaline. But the apartment was empty. No y/n, no Riddler. Bruce checked his phone for anything from her. The only thing she had sent was the number to the apartment he was currently standing in.

And nothing else.

The cops burst in, guns drawn, shouting and sounding like a pack of wild animals.

Bruce turned and pocketed his phone with an easy motion. He strode towards Gordon, a familiar anger roiling within him as he said, “He’s gone.”

The other police officers began to search the apartment while Gordon followed Bruce to the open window and the rifle that had been left behind. There was a perfect view of where they’d all been standing only minutes before. Of Carmine Falcone’s body.

“He’s been here this whole time,” Gordon said, disgust coloring his tone darkly.

Bruce glanced around before he murmured, “Y/n came to look around while I was inside the club. She was trying to figure out where those photos of the mayor had been taken. Trying to find a lead.” He told himself not to panic–he was certain he’d hear from her soon. Maybe she was looking in another area, completely unaware of the chaos that had happened, was still happening. “She sent me the apartment number.”

But Bruce also remembered the Riddler’s words in his video. He liked y/n, had been inspired by her. So what if he’d seen her poking around? What if–

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Gordon murmured back. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Bruce almost snorted. He wasn’t confident in her ability to stay out of trouble, even after their most recent conversation. She’d found the apartment, somehow, and texted it to him so he’d know. But then had she left? Was she waiting at the Batmobile for him? Up on the roof? Had she followed the Riddler as he’d escaped?

A crackle of one of the nearby radios interrupted Bruce’s thoughts.

“Lieutenant!” said another officer, holding up the radio for Gordon. “Martinez.”

“Yeah?” Gordon said into the radio.

Martinez’s voice was a harried whisper. “Lieutenant, we got a witness here, says she saw someone coming down the fire escape right after the shot. She said he went into the corner diner. The guy’s sitting by himself at the counter, right now.”

Gordon and Bruce exchanged a look. Maybe the witness was y/n. But why wouldn’t she have called Bruce or Gordon first? Unless she wanted to keep an eye on the Riddler herself, keep him from getting away, and had grabbed the first officer she’d come across. There were dozens in the area at that moment, after all.

Bruce, Gordon, and several of the other officers around them all rushed back outside. Bruce didn’t bother with the stairs, merely attaching his grappling hook to the fire escape outside the window and swinging down.

A bunch of officers were converging on the diner already, moving in quickly and efficiently while Bruce watched. He found Officer Martinez, who had his gun drawn but hanging loosely at his side, ready but not trigger-happy.

“Where’s the witness?” he asked, startling Martinez so badly his gun jerked up. As soon as Martinez saw who was next to him, he lowered the gun again with a guilty expression.

“Right over there,” Martinez said with a nod. He joined the procession going towards the diner, Gordon at the helm.

Bruce’s heart leapt hopefully as he followed the man’s gaze but–

It wasn’t her.

He resisted the urge to curse. As Gordon and the others stormed the diner, Bruce sent y/n a text with shaking fingers. Where was she? He called her right after he sent the text.

Straight to voicemail. His jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

If she wasn’t the witness and she wasn’t answering her phone…Bruce’s thoughts turned dark.

If that bastard had hurt her, done anything to her–Bruce didn’t care about his no killing rule. He would tear the Riddler limb from limb, rip him apart piece by piece, if he had done anything to her. He would make the man suffer for a long, long time until either Bruce got tired of it or the Riddler died from his injuries.

Bruce strode to the window of the diner, watching as the man who called himself the Riddler was forcefully shoved against the counter and handcuffed. The Riddler met Bruce’s gaze through the fogged glass and smiled.

Bruce suddenly had a very bad feeling.

The man was utterly normal in every way, almost boyish, and it only made that sickening smile more unnerving. Like the Riddler knew something Bruce didn’t. Like he had done something they hadn’t yet discovered.

Within minutes, Bruce was back at the apartment with Gordon, eyes searching through the clutter and chaos for something, anything, to tell him where y/n was as forensic examiners went over the place inch by inch.

Because something had happened to her. He was sure of it. He shoved the worry and fear down, down, down until his head could clear enough to think. Gordon seemed to understand the urgency, muttering to another cop about keeping an eye out for anything strange.

“Stranger than this?” The cop huffed a laugh. He had a point, Bruce supposed. The apartment was…like seeing inside the mind of a killer.

Newspaper clippings were papered across the walls that weren’t covered with full shelves. Bruce’s gaze snagged on a few. With a start, he realized he recognized several of them. A lot of them showed y/n. Those that didn’t have her in them showed his parents. He was very sick to his stomach, even as a hot wave of rage crested within him in the same breath.

There was their engagement announcement. The grand opening of the Gotham Project, with y/n radiant as she cut the ribbon, Bruce himself just a shadow behind her, trying to make sure the attention was on her and not him. There were articles about the gala too–and a taped up picture of y/n, the one Alfred had used in the engagement announcement, that had the words “informant” scrawled across it with an arrow pointing to an article about the gala.

And there were notebooks everywhere–journals–giving insight into the actual mind of the Riddler. Bruce felt another chill skitter down his spine. Something wasn’t right here, and it wasn’t just because they were in the living space of a killer. He grabbed at one of the journals, flipping slowly through it. The chill only worsened.

The question was a refrain in his mind as he skimmed the words within the journal. Where is she where is she where is she where is she?

One of the officers was giving Bruce a dirty look. “Hey, Lieutenant! You really okay with this? What about chain of evidence?”

Gordon turned from where he’d been speaking with someone else.

Bruce didn’t have time for any of that bullshit. “You should see this,” he told Gordon. He held out the journal. He ignored the aggravating officer completely.

“He’s wearing gloves,” Gordon told the complaining officer in a dry tone. Bruce felt grateful for a moment that Gordon had his back. That Gordon would help him find y/n.

“Friday, July 16th. My life has been a cruel riddle I could not solve, suffocating my mind, no escape,” Gordon began reading. “But then, today, I saw it. A single word on this ledger, sitting on the desk beside me. ‘Renewal.’ The empty promise they sold to me as a child in that orphanage. One look inside, and finally I understood. My whole life has been preparing me for this. The moment when I would learn the truth. When I could finally strike back and expose their lies.”

As Gordon read, Bruce looked around the apartment again, eyes searching for more clues, more hints. He saw prototypes for the various instruments of torture and bombs the Riddler had already used. Cages, full of rats. Bruce zeroed in on the chittering animals even as Gordon continued reading the journal entry in a low, steady voice.

“If you want people to understand, really understand, you can’t just give them the answers. You have to confront them, torture them with the horrifying questions, just like they tortured me. I know now what I must become.” Gordon paused, voice wavering slightly. “Jesus.”

Bruce frowned slightly at one of the cages. Not a rat, but a bat.

“Don’t think that rat likes you, man,” Gordon said from behind him as the bat started thrashing against its cage.

“This one’s not a rat,” Bruce said as he reached for the card addressed for him, taped to the top of the cage’s interior. Attached to the card was something Bruce recognized, if only from its outline.

“What is that?” Gordon asked as Bruce handed it over.

They’d drawn some attention now. The officer who was concerned about the chain of evidence asked, “Some kind of pry tool?” as another officer stepped forward and said, “Is it a chisel?”

“It’s a murder weapon. He killed Mitchell with it. The edge will match the floorboard impression in the mayor’s study.” Bruce flipped open the card as he explained.

There were only two words written inside. “‘My confession’?” Gordon read. “What’s he confessing to? He already told us he killed Mitchell.”

The chill weighing down Bruce’s limbs was growing stronger with every moment. He tried to keep his mind from leaping there but–maybe the Riddler had recently committed another murder right on the coattails of his attack on Falcone.

“This isn’t over,” Bruce said, trying to convey to Gordon what he was thinking with just his eyes. His heart was starting to thrash in his chest like the bat inside the cage next to him. It pounded out one word in its panic–her name. He had to reign it in, couldn’t let anyone know how deeply invested in her wellbeing he was. No one other than Gordon, who already at least knew she’d been working with him that night.

Bruce’s internal spiral was interrupted by one of the forensic examiners who was standing beside a computer. “Oh, man. He’s been posting all kinds of shit online. He’s got, like, 500 followers. Real fringe types.”

Bruce was finally able to take in the full scale of the Riddler’s insanity as he got a close look at that wall of newspaper articles. Across the top it read THE TRUTH ABOUT GOTHAM. A campaign poster for Mitchell had the eyes scratched out. Another from Bruce’s father’s campaign had the word MURDERER written over it in red.

And pictures of y/n–so many pictures of y/n with notes written in ciphers all around them. One article, bigger than the others, from the year before with the ex-mayor’s mugshot on it: Is Gotham’s corruption at an end? Bruce recognized that article–y/n had frowned at it all morning the day it came out. It had been a couple of weeks after their first date. Her fingers had absently pressed against the scar at her abdomen as she’d read.

Another large article caught his eye. WHO IS THE BATMAN? it read.

“His final post was last night,” the same man was saying, but Bruce wasn’t listening. “Some video. Got a lot of views, but it’s password-protected.”

“Can you get in?” Gordon asked.

“Copying his drive now. Take some time, but we’ll get in.”

But Bruce was wholly focused on the words next to the Batman article. I know the REAL you, it said, white words over a background colored black.

Heart pounding, the pieces started rapidly falling into place as Gordon said, “Show me the post.”

“It’s right here.”

“‘The Truth Unmasked,’” Gordon murmured.

Y/n, the articles about Thomas Wayne, Riddler’s obsession with the Batman. Had taking her been some sort of trap? A trap for him?

“I think I’m his last target,” Bruce said. His voice was calm despite the weight of the revelation hitting him so hard his knees wanted to buckle.

“You?” Gordon said. Bruce was grateful he didn’t dismiss him outright despite the skeptical look.

“Maybe this is all coming to an end,” Bruce said softly as he continued staring at that video. What did it say? Had it revealed his identity? Did it have one final clue for Gotham to figure it out themselves?

“What is?” Gordon asked, a note of urgency in his voice.

“The Batman.” Bruce swallowed hard. Outside, his body was still, but the inside of his mind was a hurricane of panic. Fear thrashed inside of him like gale-force winds, storm surges of cold rage chasing the fear, his whole body feeling beat up with the force of it even as he remained outwardly unmoved.

Gordon’s phone started ringing.

But Bruce didn’t have time to panic. First, he had to make sure y/n was safe. His mind whirled with several plans at once as he tried to figure out what to do. If his identity was the price to pay to keep her safe, so be it. He would pay it a thousand times over if he had to. He’d planned for the possibility anyways–funneling money and assets into accounts she could access should something happen to him, should he go to jail or get killed or injured so severely he turned into a vegetable. He’d left instructions for Alfred to take y/n and run as far as possible should Bruce’s identity be revealed. No need for it to blow back on either of them.

How had the Riddler figured it out? Bruce needed to know–but only once he knew y/n was safe.

Gordon was staring at Bruce as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone call.

“Right,” he said slowly as he hung up. This is it, Bruce thought. “Riddler’s asking for you. At Arkham.”

Bruce nodded slightly. He stepped forward to leave, but paused next to Gordon. “You’re a good cop,” he said. He tried to convey everything in those few words–gratitude for the man who had helped him without needing to know his identity, a man who hadn’t been corrupted when so many others had. A man who had helped him keep y/n safe, who had saved her life at the gala when Bruce had been able to.

Gordon looked utterly puzzled at the compliment. “I’ll keep looking for her, yeah?” he said in a soft voice.

“Yeah,” Bruce repeated. He’d find a way to beat her location out of the Riddler if he had to, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Gordon continue to look for her. Bruce would have lied, would have told Gordon to “call Bruce Wayne to let him know she was missing” but there was no use. Not when his identity was about to become public knowledge.

As Bruce went back outside to where he’d left the Batmobile–where they’d left it, y/n with her pictures and he to go save Selina and capture Falcone–he called y/n’s phone again. No answer. He bit back a curse as he started the car with a growl that echoed his own urgency. There was no sign of her.

Where was she? Was she hurt? Was she–

Bruce shut the thought down. No. The Riddler was inspired by her. And she wasn’t corrupt, like all of his other victims had been. She had no ties to corruption other than whatever vague ties she now had to Thomas Wayne because of Bruce.

The Riddler wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t.

Bruce clung to that lie as he sped toward Arkham, toward answers, towards the end of the Batman.

Reader’s POV

The world came back to y/n slowly. Her head ached fiercely. Her mouth tasted like cotton. No–that was actual cloth in her mouth. She groaned around it and tried to wriggle so she could take it out.

Her hands and feet were tied.

Her eyes snapped open just as a boot connected with her thigh.

“Quiet,” an unfamiliar voice hissed. Y/n couldn’t help the grunt of pain from the kick, though. It was on the same side as her bruised hip, the one that had cracked against the stone floor when she’d tackled that boy at the memorial. God–the memorial. That had been weeks ago, it felt like. But it had only been a handful of days. So much had happened in those short few days.

Squinting around the pain in her head, y/n glanced up at the man who had spoken. He was dressed in a familiar dark green coat, mask, and glasses.

The Riddler.

Her heart dropped.

He had taken her.

She inhaled shakily through her nose. Her hands were bound in front of her, thankfully, and her ankles were bound as well, but the Riddler had a rifle in his hands and was staring down at her.

Y/n decided to wait to try any kind of Houdini act, even as she cursed colorfully in her mind.

She took a moment to glance around, confusion warring with fear to be at the forefront of her mind. She was surrounded by metal–walkways, supports, wires. Above her was a domed glass ceiling that vaguely stirred recognition, though she couldn’t immediately place it.

It wasn’t until she looked over and down that she realized where she was.

The fear whited out every sight, every sound, everything except for a faint roaring in her ears.

Below her was Gotham Square Garden Stadium. There were people everywhere, rows upon rows of seating, digital signs for Bella Reál, and a stage set at the center.

And y/n was above it all.

She squirmed in earnest now, panicked, needing to get out, to get away. The Riddler was planning something for the event, and it wouldn’t be good.

And Bruce–Bruce had no idea where she was. None. He had no idea what was coming, what the Riddler had planned.

Fuck, she thought desperately. Fuck. This isn’t good. It was an understatement. Falcone was dead, y/n was a captive, and there were soon going to be hundreds if not thousands of people at the event.

“I said quiet,” the voice hissed again, and there was another burst of pain against her leg as he kicked her again.

Y/n glared up at him, but then stilled.

There were other men, all dressed the same, all peering at her curiously.

All carrying rifles.

The fear turned into something darker, sharper. She felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no hope of escape.

She had to let Bruce know, had to tell him the event was being targeted. But how?

She tried to subtly check if she still had her phone. Maybe she could text Bruce, or Gordon, or both. There had to be something she could do.

But her phone was gone.

The fear made it hard to come up with a plan. She was tied up, surrounded by guns, and Bruce had no idea where she was. But if she didn’t do something, anything, people were going to die. A lot of people. And maybe Bruce. Because even though he’d be too late to stop the destruction that was surely coming, Bruce would still come and he would still fight. And he would lose.

Y/n had to do something.

She was still wearing her suit, though her mask was gone. She supposed she didn’t really need it anyways. These men, if they were aligned with the Riddler, knew who she was, what she’d done. And maybe that was why she was still alive.

Would the Riddler have her killed? Or was she simply under guard for now, until he could come? Because she realized now that none of the masked men around her were him. The man who had kicked her was too tall, too lean. The real Riddler would be close to her, gloating, probably asking her questions, if he were here.

No, the real Riddler wasn’t here. At least not yet.

Think, y/n told herself. He didn’t kill her when they were alone in the apartment. Why?

Either it was because she was an inspiration to him–the thought of which still made her physically ill–or it was for something else.

She didn’t like where her mind went.

“Two minutes,” came a breath of a whisper from the man who’d kicked her. She saw the whisper passed around the gathered men.

Two minutes until what?

Y/n tried not to bring attention to herself, not yet, not until she had some sort of a plan.

Okay, so the Riddler either had some sort of weird crush on her, or she was a part of something bigger than that. Based on his actions so far, she was a part of something bigger. He hadn’t planned for her to show up, but he also hadn’t seemed too surprised.

His whispered words came back to her, right before pain had exploded in her head and the world had gone dark.

For your own good.

He was protecting her. From what? For what? From accidentally getting caught in the crossfire at the event that was going to take place below them? That seemed most likely.

But she had a feeling that she was bait.

Bait for Bruce.

For Batman.

She had to do something, fear be damned.

She very casually stretched out her bound feet and winced a little, as if working out the numbness.

“I’m going to stop you,” she said through her gag to the men around her, though none of the words actually came out as anything other than garbled noise. If they were wanting her to keep quiet, the noise would draw their attention, which is what she wanted.

The man who’d kicked her twice now came striding back over. Even with the mask on, she could see the ire flashing in his eyes.

He leaned over in front of her, gun pointing dangerously close to her face, and hissed, “I don’t care what he says, I’ll put a bullet in you if you don’t shut up.”

Interesting, she thought. Riddler definitely didn’t want her dead.

Threat of bullets or no, she had to at least try to help until Bruce would show up. Knowing the Riddler, he’d left clues. She just hoped that Bruce figured them out soon enough to stop this, whatever it was.

Quick as a flash, y/n struck out with her legs, swiping the guy’s ankles. He went tumbling down, barely managing to hold his gun aloft as he fell. Her shoulders slammed into the floor as the movement made her lose her balance. She wasted no time and kicked both heels into his face, grimacing at the muffled crunch of his nose breaking behind the mask. She kicked again and his gun went skidding away from them both.

Three other men came hurrying forward. One of them yanked her back roughly by the back of her neck.

She had to hand it to them, they were quiet. Even with a broken nose, the man in front of her hadn’t shouted or cursed. The rest of them had reacted quickly, quietly, and efficiently. Who the fuck were they?

She glared at the man as he got to his feet before her. He glared back. Someone handed him back his gun.

He raised it and pointed it at her.

Fuck, she thought again. She hadn’t thought he’d actually shoot her. And all she’d done was give him a broken nose.

She braced herself for the inevitable shot.

Then came the first explosion.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts @cat-purrsonified @blue-aconite @junggoku @ohheyitsrowan @angxlictexrs @avengersgirllorianna @brynhildrmimi @takeyour-pants-off @twilightdollie @p-writes @lady-x-red @xingqiusliegee @scxrletwitches @justine-en @philiasoul @srryxmate @thecherrybombcom @minstens @call-me-nayo @cosmicbreathe @blossomedfloweroflove @zaminoo

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #the batman x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne fic #battinson fic #the batman fic #batman fic #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #bruce wayne #robert pattinson #sitn #shadows in the night #hehe oops another cliffhanger but at least y'all know what's going on this time

150 notes · View notes

elena-mayfair · 1 year

Text

Madness and old friends

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Warnings: rating T+/M, blood and gore, violence, strong language, themes of depression Summary: New city, old friends. Feeling lost and called out by prof. Crane and his accusation that she couldn't or was afraid to build relationships with people she makes an impulsive decision to renew an old friendship. But her old friend is not who she used to be. What path will it open in front of her? Where it will lead? Word count: 7.2k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Chapter one: Bright future, dark city Chapter two: Curious people

***

James Gordon did not like waiting. Waiting made his perpetually overworked mind start listing all the things he could be doing right now, made his imagination spin images of all the people he could be helping right now, made the number of cigarettes in his pack start decreasing fast. Still, he waited. He would light the specially modified Klieg searchlight located on the roof of the First Precinct of GCPD building, illuminating the sky above Blake Island with a pale bat-shaped symbol, lit a cigarette and wait. Sometimes he waited a few minutes, sometimes even an hour. The longer he waited the more anxious he became. For when Batman didn't show up it meant one of two things, either he was busy or Gotham was in trouble.

The alliance with Gotham's mysterious masked protector was not an easy one. James was a commissioner, and as a commissioner, he should obey the law in every way. He should lead his men by example. He should always act by the book. And yet, how to act perfectly by the book in a city where corruption reaches every level of government. How to stick to ideals when even the Judge and Jury are paid by Carmine Falcone, the biggest mafia boss in Gotham. How to obey the law when in this city no one breaths without his knowledge and consent. Finally, how to apply the law to criminals like the Riddler, who loved to torture people with complex puzzles, Poison Ivy, who, under the pretense of protecting the planet, would murder anyone who dared to pluck a flower from the garden, Mad Hatter, who would kidnap young blond-haired girls and subject them to mind control in the eternal search for his Alice, and finally the Joker, who was the embodiment of madness and mayhem. James knew that when facing the challenge of protecting Gotham's citizens from criminals like these, he had no choice but to create new ideals, he had to bend the law, he had to create new rules, and in the end, instead of arresting the masked vigilante had to trust him.

He glanced nervously at the watch he got from his daughter for his birthday and reached for another cigarette. Half an hour had passed and the bat symbol continued to light up the night sky. He was absolutely sure that it was visible from every Gotham neighborhood, even those far away, he checked. Years ago, when the searchlight was first installed and Batman first failed to appear, he forced his men to go out to Gotham's most remote neighborhoods to confirm that the symbol was visible. From the lonely Mercey Island where Arkham Asylum was located to the equally remote Wayne Manor as far as twelve kilometers from Gotham located in Bristol Township, the symbol in the sky was visible everywhere. That night Batman first confronted the League of Shadows and his old friend Ra's al Ghul who came to Gotham with a plan to destroy the city. Batman never told him about it, and James could only guess. The clues left in the city allowed him to piece together the facts and put the sequence of events together. Tonight, as he stood on the roof of the GCPD, smoking cigarette after cigarette, he could only hope he wouldn't have to do it again. The briefcase in his hand seemed to grow heavier with each passing minute. Photos and officer's reports, burned into his mind, seemed to manifest before his open eyes. One by one, similar murder cases seemed to appear. Photos of more nightmarishly mutilated bodies kept appearing on his desk. On the surface, they had nothing in common except the gruesome deaths. Some part of him didn't want to turn to Batman for help, didn't want to admit the fact that the police were failing to find the perpetrator, didn't want to admit that he was failing. Yet there were always too few police officers in Gotham, especially those he could trust, those who weren't fed by the kind hand of Falcone or Maroni. He needed that trust, deep down he knew that just as Gotham needed Batman, he needed that strong bond of trust that kept him firmly grounded in reality, that kept him hopeful.

"Jim," a low throaty voice reached his ears. He turned sharply, in his mind cursing his ally and his habit of appearing silently in the darkest places.

"One of these days you'll give me a heart attack," he fumed, letting out a cloud of smoke, "Busy night?"

"We'll see," he replied shortly and with a slow step approached Jim. No matter how many times they met on the roof of the GCPD, Jim never got used to the towering figure, dressed in a black armor-plated suit, whose black cape reached all the way to the ground. The only bright spots of his suit were a symbol shining with a black metallic glow in the middle of his chest, and two bright dots standing out against his cowl. Jim knew better than to stare at the masked ally so he simply opened the folder containing the case file and handed it to him, " more victims, similar to the family from two weeks ago," he outlined, "at first glance, nothing connects them except…"

"They all died the same gruesome death," Batman finished for him and took a closer look at the photos. The first report showed two young girls whose bodies were marked with dozens of incisions. Their faces, chests, thighs, the insides of their arms, were cut with surgical precision.

"Scalpel," Gordon interjected quietly, "forensics combed every inch of the apartment, found no signs of forced entry, struggle or fingerprints or DNA."

Batman made no comment, simply turned the page and looked at the next case. A young man, slim, of slight stature, beaten to death.

"I sent homicide guys to the scene, but it turned out that it wasn't a murder at all. At least not intentional. Witnesses testified that the boy went to the area of one of the smaller gangs and attacked its members. He was armed with a machete and a revolver. They beat him up. They are now in custody and will be tried for unintentional manslaughter."

Batman took a closer look at the photos of the young boy. He seemed to him the type of bookworm, perhaps an aspiring scientist, certainly not a gangster. The camera in his cowl scanned all the photos, which he planned to analyze once he got back to the cave.

He turned the page and saw another photo. This time if it weren't for the description he wouldn't have been able to recognize the victims. The photo showed two bloodstains splattered on the sidewalk. Blood, shattered bones and insides were one with the clothes.

"They jumped from a plane, without parachutes," Gordon explained quickly, "Batman, it doesn't make sense! The family from two weeks ago and the two girls would suggest that it could be the Joker's doing.

"It's not his MO," Batman interrupted, "Too clean. The Joker would have left more havoc behind. And he wouldn't act discreetly by attacking individual random people. Joker wants to be seen."

"And what's more, a boy and two jumpers destroy any substitute for a pattern..."

"No," Batman flipped through the pages again, "they create a different pattern."

"Care to share?" Gordon glared at him surprised.

"When I know more," Batman replied and handed the file back to Gordon, "in the meantime, have the security around the Joker at Arkham Asylum strengthened."

"You expect that he will try to escape?"

"I expect everything," he replied after which, without a word of farewell, he jumped off the roof and glided into the night.

***

Y/N knew she should go to bed but was too excited to fall asleep. She tried the podcast, tried reading, tried watching the meager night TV, but nothing brought her to sleep. She was thinking about Professor Crane's words and his accusation that she couldn't or was afraid to build relationships with people. Perhaps there was a grain of truth in that. Perhaps experience had taught her to be cautious, distrustful, and to always expect the worst first. Yet for those few brief moments when she was talking with Bruce, she felt so comfortable, felt so very natural, so very at ease. The conversation with him flowed so smoothly and freely. She didn't have to calculate in her mind her every move, she didn't have to think about every word she spoke, and the conversation flowed on its own, despite her ignorant remarks about him. "Consider me curious," she recalled his words and those blue eyes that for a split second came within breathing distance of her face. She giggled when the part of her that was still sixteen years old momentarily peeked out. However, the adult side of her quickly stifled the exultant teenager, "I don't need problems," she rebuked herself in her mind turning restlessly to the side and closing her eyes, "I don't need drama in my life, I need peace and quiet." And yet, even under her closed eyelids, the barely visible smirk refused to leave her.

She got up irritated, grabbed her phone, and impulsively typed a message.

"Hey, I'm in Gotham. Maybe we could catch up?"

The answer came a few minutes later, just as she was trying to assign the scent of his perfume to any of the well-known brands.

"Heya sweetie! Sounds like a banging plan! Bowery, tomorrow around 9pm? How does it sound?"

Y/N smiled at the idea of an evening spent with an old friend. "At least I won't sit at home and think," she thought.

"Sounds like a plan :) send me a pin!"

"Will do! See ya tomorrow!"

***

Saturday meant a day without therapy. Saturday also meant a day without work. On Saturday, Y/N could be calm, she could not stress about Professor Crane's perfectly targeted questions, on Saturday she could not worry about another accidental Bruce Wayne encounter during her work day. Saturday meant she could get up later than usual, run some errands, and then plan an outfit for the evening. She had hoped for a casual meeting with an old friend at some quiet restaurant, but a quick google search shattered all her hopes. The Bowery turned out to be the commercial district of old Gotham, filled with pubs, stores, cafes, restaurants, and the hottest club in town, Iceberg Lounge. As soon as Y/N saw pictures of the club she knew it was where Harleen wanted to go. The club didn't match the Harleen she knew, the quiet, sometimes shy girl with a feisty sparkle in her eyes that betrayed to an attentive observer a hidden, dormant other self. Y/N knew it, saw it come to the surface in situations of heightened tension or complete relaxation. Harleen, however, wanted to be seen seriously, wanted, dreamed of being a psychiatrist, but not just any psychiatrist, no that was not Harleen's style. Harleen and her dormant bit of insanity decided that they wanted to work nowhere else but Arkham Asylum, a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane. They tried to talk about it but Harleen was stubborn, and Y/N had her own problems on her mind, problems that overwhelmed her, problems that made her close herself off and cut herself off from the world. And so Harleen left, and Y/N was left alone. As she was getting ready to leave, Y/N wondered if and how much her friend had changed, wondered if they would find a common language again, wondered if the little black dress and calf-length boots were too much, wondered if someone like Bruce Wayne frequented places like the Iceberg Lounge. She left her hair loose on her shoulders and swiped her lips with burgundy lipstick, just in case. She grabbed her favorite black leather jacket, smiled at her reflection in the mirror, and decided it was going to be a good night.

Bruce Wayne didn't spend his Saturday evenings as befits a billionaire. Once in a while, he would show up in town, and let the camera flash lights and the endless calls of the paparazzi focus on his person for as long as he let them. He would smile politely while doing so, turn in the direction in which he was being called, and played the role that had been entrusted to him. However, he usually didn't have to play, he usually holed up in a cave deep under the foundations of his mansion and worked, fulfilling the role he had entrusted to himself. There was always work in the cave. If it wasn't investigation, it was training, if not training it was maintenance work, if not maintenance work it was implementing new technologies and improvements. And even when everything was already done, which was extremely rare, he came here simply to sink into his thoughts in peace and get away from the world on the surface. On that evening, however, he stared for another hour in a row at the photos of the victims and the case files displayed on most of the large computer screens, as if he hoped that looking at them from a different angle would make him see something he hadn't seen before. He zoomed in and out, scaled up, framed, looking for details that could be part of the puzzle. He searched, read, analyzed, each victim individually. Who they were, where they lived, what they liked, who they were friends with, where they worked, what stores they went to, what they bought, every little detail could be important, every little detail could be a breakthrough in understanding the pattern. For Bruce saw the pattern, saw the sense in the randomness of the events, saw the similarity of the victims so different from each other, saw the pieces of the puzzle, and was able to name them however he did not want to do so. Not yet. "Too soon," he thought.

"Four cases, eight victims. They didn't know each other, they didn't frequent the same places, they have no connection to each other. And they don't fit any known pattern…" he spoke aloud hearing the echo of approaching footsteps, "It's someone new Alfred," he continued accepting a mug of steaming coffee from the butler, "it's someone precise, discreet, intelligent."

"I see you've already managed to determine that these were no random cases Master Bruce," Alfred stated while looking at the displayed photos. Bruce didn't respond immediately, he merely enlarged the photos of the family that he himself had taken a few days ago and arranged them side by side with the photos of the young girls he had received from Gordon, "a gruesome death…" Alfred quietly commented.

"The family from Narrows was the first victim we know of," Bruce took a sip of coffee without taking his eyes off the computer screen and continued, "The man died of exsanguination after he scratched his eyes out."

"Nail fragments and blood on the fingertips left no doubt…"

"A woman and a child," Bruce continued, "They died from internal burns after drinking solvent."

"We rule out the possibility that someone forced the solvent into them…" Alfred stated more than asked.

"There were no traces of forced entry or foreign DNA in the apartment. Whereas the traces I found and which were later verified by Gordon's forensics confirm definitively that the woman first gave the solvent to the boy then drank it herself," he took another sip of coffee, "No, Alfred. No matter how we look at it the facts are indisputable."

"How could a mother do such a thing to her son? What was going on in her head?" Alfred asked quietly.

"I'd like to know…" Bruce moved his mouse across the screen drawing red lines on the photos of the young girls, "They were friends, went to high school together, and later went to college together. Exemplary students, exemplary daughters," as he was saying this he outlined red lines connecting the cuts on their bodies, "good homes, loving parents, no problems, no history of mental illness or tragedy in the family…"

"At least until now…"

"On Instagram, they followed celebrities, models, singers, actresses…" the number of lines was increasing, some straight, some forming oval shapes, on their abdomens, on their faces, on their arms, on their thighs, "the wounds were made with a scalpel…."

"My god…." Alfred whispered looking at the patterns that Bruce had drawn, "it looks like surgical incisions, like the ones that are made during plastic surgery. Buist augmentation, liposuction of the abdomen, thighs and arms, fillers in the cheeks and lips, correction of the nose…."

"Anything they'd like to improve in their seemingly less than ideal bodies…" Bruce concluded.

"Master Bruce, you do not think that they also did that to themselves!" shock and disbelief tinged Alfred's voice, "it's impossible, a person is not able to inflict so many wounds on themselves and not pass out from the pain!"

"That's exactly what I think Alfred," Bruce replied grimly, "the fingerprint marks on the scalpels, the angle and depth of the incisions suggest that they did that to each other. Instead of drawing on each other's bodies with red marker pens, they drew with scalpels."

"But Master Bruce, this is not physically possible…"

"The evidence is clear, and as with the family, the toxicology came out clean. If they took any drug, it had cleared from the bloodstream by the time the bodies were found. The problem is that no known drug disappears without leaving a trace. Not in such a short time."

"What about the other victims?" Alfred asked in a tone that told Bruce he was quietly hoping for a pattern disruption.

"A couple, a woman 28 years old and a man 34 years old," Bruce displayed their photos on the screen next to the bloodstains on the sidewalk, "they got married a week before. They were flying on their honeymoon."

"And halfway there they decided it would be more romantic to jump out of a plane without a parachute?" Alfred scoffed.

"Gordon questioned the pilot," a scan of the police report appeared on the screen, "he was their friend. A pilot by passion. As a gift, he got them a flight in his private avionette. An hour after takeoff, they unexpectedly got up from their seats and, ignoring his shouts and cries, opened the door and jumped out."

"How is the man doing now?"

"He is under psychiatric observation, which is being conducted by a certain Professor Crane, a prominent psychiatrist with a very impressive resume," Bruce took another sip of coffee, minimized photos of the couple and displayed a photo of the latest victim.

"Jeremy Walters, age 17," he informed, "with him I have the biggest problem."

"As far as I can see, he was beaten to death by inferior gang members…" Alfred ran his eyes over a scan of the case file.

"Maroni's men, pawns for collecting ransoms, and intimidating small businessmen."

"Coincidence?"

"Perhaps," Bruce replied pensively, "one thing, however, troubles me."

"What's that?"

"All Gotham residents know which neighborhoods to avoid, and where not to go. What was he doing in the Maroni area?"

"Stupidity? Bravado? Need to impress his colleagues?"

"Or a missing piece of the puzzle…" Bruce minimized the images and set the empty cup down on a silver tray set on the desk.

"What are you going to do Master Bruce?"

"I need to see if there is any connection between the victims and the dockside shooting and what was in the cargo," Bruce stood up abruptly and began reviewing the state of his suit utility belt, the bottom part of which he had been wearing all this time. As he checked pocket by pocket each of them, his face was painted with calmness and complete control, like that of an experienced soldier who checks his rifle before going to the battlefield. Despite the passage of years, Alfred couldn't shake the terrible feeling that maybe if he had done more himself, maybe now he wouldn't have to watch the man he had treated like a son don the top of his suit, attach the long black cape and hide his face under the mask, becoming someone completely different.

"I understand that I'm not supposed to wait with dinner," he said in his perfectly controlled tone tinged with a hint of irony. Bruce merely smiled at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll be in touch."

You wouldn't say that Harleen looked exactly as you remembered her, for she had changed a lot. Long gone were the sneakers, loose pants and oversized pullovers she used to be so fond of. They were replaced by tight black jeans clinging tightly to her slim body, a blue shirt unbuttoned two buttons too many, and brown high-heeled boots. The beautiful blond hair she once wore in a loose bun or ponytail now fell in waves of gold to her shoulders. Eyes painted with strong black eyeliner peeked confidently from behind strong black eyeglass frames, and her lips adorned with blood red lipstick smiled wryly.

"Harleen, if it weren't for the damn pin I would have passed you on the street and not recognized you!" you hugged your friend joyfully, and she reciprocated the hug, "damn, you've changed!"

"Girl gotta look the part don't ya think!!!?" Harleen replied with a sparkle in her eye.

"Totally!"

"You've changed too!" Harleen swept her eyes over you, "what's with the goth vibe?!"

"Don't know, kinda like it I guess, feels right," you replied dragging your hands over your black dress quickly realizing that every part of your outfit was black.

"And looks right! You look fineee sweetie!" the smile on Harleen's face seemed sincere, and you could clearly hear undisguised joy in the tone of her voice.

"So, Iceberg Lounge," you began awkwardly, realizing that after so many years you didn't even know where to begin, "I hope it won't be cold inside."

"We won't have time to get cold! We'll have a few shots, and hit the dance floor!" Harleen replied with a broad smile then grabbed your hand and pulled you along, pushing through the crowd of people waiting in line to enter.

"Harleen!" you tried to stop her, "shouldn't we wait like everyone else!"

"Fuck them! My boyfriend knows the owner, we'll be here like VIPs!" she threw over her shoulder then stopped abruptly in front of the bouncer, whose physique surpassed both of you both in height and width, "Hello, Butch" she smiled playfully, "a table for two! Me and my bestie are planning to have a banging evening!"

"Miss Quinzel…" the bouncer spoke quietly but his gaze, instead on Harleen, focused on you, measuring you from head to toe, his gaze giving you unpleasant shivers as if something slimy had just touched your bare skin, "enjoy your evening," he opened the door revealing to your eyes a gigantic establishment bathed in shades of blue, white and silver.

Everywhere within your sight you could see countless tables adorned in black and white at which ladies in elegant dresses and gentlemen in suits were engaged in many conversations. Some were enjoying elegant meals, while others were sipping sparkling wines or amber whisky from shining silver crystals. In the middle of the room, at a shiny black piano, a musician was playing a graceful classical melody, soothing nerves and inviting people to dance.

"Harleen? I think we're a little underdressed," you chuckled quietly, looking around the room.

"Oh, oh don't be silly! The upper hall is for stiffs and snobs!" Harleen replied without lowering her tone of voice causing outrage from guests sitting nearby, "we're hitting there!" she added and pointed to a silver and black door with a shiny VIP sign.

44 Below, the club below club, opened its doors with rumbling synthwave bass and blinding red lights reflecting off the black walls and floors. Elegant couples chatting in hushed voices over a glass of wine turned in the blink of an eye into a sea of bodies rhythmically floating between the smoke and the blaze of light, huddled together in cramped lodges tilting glass after glass. Between one flash of lights and another, a glass of green and purple liquid appeared in your hand. You tried to stop Harleen, who was still holding your hand and dragging you deeper into the club, but she only turned around and winked wryly.

You tried to take in your surroundings, so strange and fascinating at the same time. On one side, girls dressed in skimpy dresses, latex pants and corsets dancing so close to the men as if trying to melt their bodies into one. On the other, men in suits, hidden in lodges seemed to watch everything and everyone at once. Someone winked at you, someone smiled, someone's hand touched your shoulder, another brushed your hip. The music was pounding, the lights were blinding, and Harleen seemed to be in absolute heaven, even though to you, the place looked more like hell. It seemed to you that she was waving to someone, perhaps greeting someone. An empty glass not knowing when became full again when she pulled you by the hand and slipped into a vacant booth deep in the club.

"Isn't this awesome?!" she asked throwing her shirt off her shoulders exposing a black sleeveless top, "I love this place!!!"

"It's something, I give you that!" you replied forcing yourself to smile. This is not how you imagined this evening but you decided, to go with the flow.

"It's fucking brilliant! You look tense! Drink up and let's hit the floor!!!"

"I don't drink much…"

"How so?"

"It's messing up with my head…" you smiled apologetically.

"Come on! You gotta loosen up a bit!!!" Harleen's hand landed on your shoulders "All that trauma is gonna eat you alive! And I know what I'm talking about!! I am a psychiatrist! Have a paper and all!"

"You know?" you pulled away from your friend in surprise, suspicion seeping into your mind in an instant sharpening all your senses.

"Sure I know!" Harleen countered with an innocent smile, "Just cos you ain't staying in contact doesn't mean I don't keep tabs on ya! You my bestie aren't ya?!"

"Then why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Well, it was kinda obvious you needed time! I ain't gonna rush you! You been through hell, you needed time, I get that! But now since you here, chill dude!!!" she pushed a glass in your direction, "drink up! Doctor's orders!"

You smiled uncertainly and emptied the glass.

"That's my girl!!" Harleen applauded and emptied hers, "don't ya worrie sweetie, I'm gonna take care of ya! No talks about trauma, no talks about past, no sadness! You have your therapist for that! Today, let's put some smile on that face!!"

"How do you know I see a therapist?" suspicion crept in again pushing out the brief dizziness.

"Dude, I fucking now ya!" Harleen replied without hesitation, "C'mon we know each other like whole life!!!"

"That's true…" smiled faintly, "alright then! Fun it is!"

"Fuck yeah!!!"

Batman knew that if there was anyone in Gotham who would be in possession of information about the cargo on the docks, it would be the Penguin. Nothing in Gotham happened without his knowledge. He acquired, sold, stored information more expensive and valuable than all the cocaine that passed through his club, than all the weapons he traded. Oswald Cobblepot was many things, but above all, he was a businessman. If something constituted value and could be sold for an exorbitant amount, Oswald was the first person in Gotham to take an interest in it. At the 44 Below, various transactions took place every night. The club was frequented by the very elite of Gotham's social scene, criminals, gangsters, dealers, politicians, police officers, a Judge, the District Attorney. All who contributed in one way or another to Gotham's downfall. Dealers sold drugs under the noses of police officers, passed through the hands of hookers the purest goods destined for the Judge and his men. Gangsters were striking deals to sell things far more dangerous than drugs right behind the backs of an unseeing District Attorney. And all in the underground of a seemingly pristine establishment for the upper class.

Piecing together the plan in his head, Bruce was tempted for a moment to enter the club with the door and let the whole place go up in smoke. Chase people away, burn it to the ground. He knew, however, that it wasn't the premises that were the problem, but the people. Burning down the premises would only spread the plague throughout the city until they would find a new place. They couldn't seek refuge with Falcone, who played his political games in a more discreet way, with blackmail, threats and bribes. They couldn't hole up in one of Maroni's restaurants, since he wasn't interested in political games, only in the pure profit from the arms trade, the harassment and the eternal war with Falcone. Sionis continued to pretend that he was just an influential businessman focused on industrial development. Penguin was not picking and choosing, Penguin accepted everyone and could profit from anyone. Without him, they would have scattered across Gotham like locusts, spreading all over the city. They would have become more desperate, more dangerous.

So he chose the stealth approach. Squeezing through a narrow ventilation shaft, he seriously questioned his decision to reinforce his suit with kevlar plates and attach a cape. "Superman does have a cape," he mused, "but Superman doesn't sneak into the underground clubs through the narrow shafts…" he smiled faintly, imagining Superman in his place.

The plan was simple, get through the shaft straight over Pingiwn's office, surprise him, intimidate him and interrogate him. The only problem was a quick exit. The narrow ventilation shafts were not suitable for a quick escape. More than that, they left a clear trail, an entry and exit route, betraying his tactics, something he could not afford to do. "I will have to improvise. Make my way through the crowd to the upper level exit and grapple my way out…" he planned, "it's gonna get messy."

"Everyone I've ever loved either left me or died!" you exclaimed as you downed a glass of whisky in one sip. The alcohol was starting to warm you from the inside, causing the world to spin along with the flashlights, "I don't blame you Harl, I don't have any resentments," you corrected yourself quickly, "I don't hold a grudge, you left much earlier."

"I get it!" she assured you.

"No one gave a fuck! No one!" you reached for the bottle and refilled your glass, "Not my remaining family! Not my friends!!! They did not give a single flying fuck!"

"People suck!!! Fuck them!!!"

"I didn't know what to do! I was so fucking lost! It's just…I was left alone so I said FUCK IT! Fuck it all!!! I packed my bag and here I am! In fucking Gotham out of all the places!!! Where some maniac named Joker is fighting in front of the police with a guy dressed as a bat! What the actual fuck?! What is this place!"

"It's Gotham baby!!!" Harleen replied with a wide grin.

"Who does that!? Batman and Joker!! Like mindblowing!! Who gives him right!"

"Right!!! Beating up innocent people like that!!! Fucking psycho!"

"Totally!!! What is his problem! Like dude, therapy is actually a thing! Get one!"

"No one cares about anyone these days!" Harleen emptied her glass while anger clearly painted on her face, "And fucking Gothamites, all they do is judge and judge! No one actually takes a time to think! All they want is someone to blame! They don't take time to understand!"

"Fuck them Harl!!!" you chuckled with a smile, "fuck all of them!!!" raising your glass in a toasting gesture.

"That's right!!!" Harleen smiled tapping her glass against yours, "I'm so glad you texted me!"

"Honestly, I wasn't sure if you still want to have anything to do with me," you replied sincerely.

"Don't be stupid! 'course I want to!"

"And truly, it was my therapist who convinced me," you laughed.

"What's his name!?" curiosity shone in Harleen's eyes.

"Professor Crane," you replied without thinking, "you know him?"

"I do, "Harleen replied with a sly smile, "but don't count on me to tell you anything about him! Professional courtesy!"

"Fuck professional courtesy!" you laughed, "talk!"

"He's a brilliant psychiatrist. He'll help you, free yourself from that cage you've built in your head!" Harleen replied, "And I won't tell you anything else!"

"Fine!"

The music was pounding louder and louder which meant that he was getting closer to his destination. A few more meters and he should find himself above Penguin's office. He couldn't turn on his listening or echolocation because the music would damage his hearing. He had to count on himself. He tried to listen in on the conversation, but the thin metal trembled moved by the rhythmic bass and his own careful movements. He had to rely on himself, had to trust himself, had to trust that, as in any air-conditioned room, every few steps a ventilation shaft would be cut by a vent and that one of them would be above Penguin's office. According to the reconnaissance he did, Penguin's office was about 120 square meters, the vents appeared on the ceiling evenly every 50 meters in a straight line, which meant that there was at least one in his office. A few meters and he should see one of them below him, and through it a few security guards, armed goons, and a short squat man probably with a cigar in his mouth.

"A quick attack from above, by surprise," he planned, "before he realizes what hit him."

Dancing in the middle of the crowded dance floor, for a moment you forgot all your worries and cares, forgot the stresses of everyday life, forgot the anger that boiled inside you every day when you showed up for therapy, the feeling of loneliness every time you went home, the strange excitement that appeared in you every time you recalled that blue eyes and that low soft voice. The music rumbled inside you, the alcohol allowed your perpetually heightened senses to finally relax, the lights dazzled you, and you flowed along with them. You didn't notice that within a few steps, no one was dancing around Harleen and you, you didn't notice that several men standing at the bar were clearly watching you, you didn't see the owner of the club standing behind the glass wall of his office watching you from afar, nor a stocky man heading in your direction. Nothing mattered. You were free, you felt free, you felt as the rhythm of the music awakened in you a new strength and confidence that something incredible was waiting around the corner, a confidence that Gotham was indeed becoming the beginning of an amazing new life.

You opened your eyes and saw a stocky man standing behind dancing Harleen smiling at you in a way that made you shudder. He leaned over her and said something in her ear making her stop immediately. She threw him angry glances and shouted something while gesturing intensely, but the loud music drowned out her every word. The man only smiled again, as if this gesture was supposed to be the answer to everything.

Harleen turned to you and gestured in a direction then followed him into the depths of the club.

"What's going on?!" you asked, evening your step with theirs, "where are we going?"

"The boss wants to talk to Miss Quinn," the man replied without even looking in your direction.

"Why?" you directed your question to Harleen ignoring him.

"Told ya my boyfriend knows the owner!" Harleen replied with a wide smile, "don't ya worry! Ozzy probably wants to talk business with me while my puddin' is away!"

"What kind of business your boyfriend does here?!"

Harleen didn't have time to answer. The door to the owner's office opened wide revealing a short man inviting you inside with a gesture. You didn't want to enter, your intuition suddenly seemed to have sobered up and wasn't happy about where you found yourself. Harleen stepped confidently inside, while you took two steps back, clashing your back with Butch who effectively blocked the way out.

"I'll wait outside…" you smiled softly.

"Nonsense!" a voice reached you from deep in the room, "C'mon love! Harley's friends are my friends!"

"Five armed goons, two handguns, probably a Colt M1911…" Batman assessed the surroundings from above, "one, Micro Uzi, plus knives. Two at the glass wall, two at the entrance, one at the door. They need to be taken down first. First the ones by the wall. Then those by the door. The one behind the door will manage to get inside, freeing my way out."

"Come here! Ozzy wants to meet ya!" Batman picked up the female voice and scanned the room for its source. A blonde woman with a petite athletic build was turning toward the door and gesturing inside, "Who is she? Who's behind the door?"

"You have a business to discuss!" came from behind the door, "seriously, I'll wait outside, I won't disturb you," he knew the voice.

The thugs began to move. The two at the door turned their backs to the room. In the glare of the lights reflecting off the glass wall, Batman could clearly see one of them reach behind his back and unlock his holster. "I'm out of time…" he decided after which he sprayed a bit of explosive gel in a quick efficient motion and pressed the detonator.

The rumble of the explosion, the pieces of metal and debris falling from the ceiling caused disorientation exactly as he had planned. He didn't even have to use a smoke grenade. Before the thugs had time to realize what had happened he fell from the ceiling and in two quick moves hit those near the wall. A stunning blow to the head and a kick to the chest sent them flying outwards shattering glass in the process. Somewhere behind him he heard a furious curse and a woman's cry of surprise. He didn't care. In two quick steps he jumped to the armed men at the door. A knife flashed before his eyes, but he dodged in time. Swift hand movement and the knife got stuck in the spikes of his gloves. He yanked hard sending the knife far toward the floor.

"It's Batman!" the other shouted, yanking the weapon from behind his belt. A blow to the chest left him breathless but only for a moment, a hit to the shoulder sent a bullet to the floor, a kick, to the abdomen, a dodge, "I have to move them away from the door" he thought, he parried the blow catching his arm in flight and flipped one over his shoulder with a punch to the floor knocking him unconscious. The other one just screamed, pushed through the door and started running away. For a moment Batman saw the chaos that prevailed in the club. One exit, hundreds of people, "I should have foreseen that," he thought. But he didn't have time to analyze, a strong blow to the jaw came from behind the door, sending him tumbling back into the room. He didn't fall. With a backward roll, he got back on his feet poised to fight. He quickly sent a Batarang toward Penguin effectively knocking the weapon out of his hand and attacked his opponent. Butch Gilzean was a stocky man, two meters tall and similarly wide but he was slow which gave Batman the advantage. He attacked first, stunning him with his cape, knocking the gun out of his hand, and hitting Butch's hard chest again and again, pushing him outward to finally send him crashing into the wall with a kick. The scanners in his cawl read a pulse of 47 beats per minute, and he knew Butch wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

"Don't hurt me…." he heard a familiar female voice from a darkened corner between the door and the wall, "We are not with them…."

Y/N stood there leaning against the wall with her hands raised in a defensive gesture. She looked at him but there was no fear on her face, only shock and confusion. He quickly suppressed the overwhelming fear and surprise, "what is she doing here…"

"Leave," he replied briefly, but she did not move. He turned away from her and looked at the blonde. She did not run away from him with her eyes. On the contrary, she looked at him defiantly and with scorn, "You too. Leave, both of you. Penguin and I need to talk."

***

Standing outside, slowly smoking a cigarette you received from one of the girls who rushed out of the club, you watched as one of the windows shattered from the inside shimmering in the light of the neon lights. A black figure shot up into the sky like a phantom, and if it weren't for the fact that a few minutes earlier you had seen him, standing just a few steps away from you, you would have thought your mind was playing a trick on you. Batman rose into the air towards the tall buildings only to disappear under the cover of night.

"What the actual fuck…" you whispered.

"Told ya this night gonna be banging!" Harleen joked with a wide grin.

"Yeah…let's not do that again…" you breathed musingly.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Harleen asked as if completely ignoring what you had just said.

"Oh no no! I am not partying with you ever again! Forget about it!" you sneered.

"C'mon sugar! It was an awesome night! Till this nutcase showed up!" Harleen grimaced, "but don't ya worry! No party tomorrow! Just thought you might go with me to pick up my puddin'! He's coming back from his short vacation and I so would love ya to meet him!"

"I don't know Harl…" you hesitated, "after this insanity, I think I need some time to cool off before Monday. Gotta work Monday."

"C'mon! don't be like that!" Harleen looked at you with her big blue puppy eyes, "Now when we are back together I really really want ya to meet my boo! Do this for me! Pretty please!"

"Fine…" you smiled in agreement, "I can't say no to you," you added and Harleen only jumped up joyfully and hugged you, "but please, no craziness tomorrow!"

"You got it sis!" Harleen agreed but the glint in her eye betrayed to you that she wasn't entirely sincere, "Where do you work by the way?"

"Wayne Enterprises."

***

Chapter four: I am innocent

***

Author note: The story continues! Thank you for your patience and my apologies for the long await. I got distracted by work, some additional tasks that you took on, and then totally got lost watching Peaky Blinders (I know, I'm late to the party but this show is absolutely brilliant! It's been on my 'to watch' list forever and the time finally came!). But a dear friend of mine reminded me kindly that she is still waiting for chapter 3 so I had no other choice but to find time and write the next chapter. Even though I was distracted lately, I kept it in the back of my mind and I'll say, going back to it was a blast! Hope you like it! And I promise I'll do my best to publish the next chapter much sooner than this one! But for now, my Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

#batman x reader #batman x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #batman x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction

119 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 2 years

Text

The Arkham Patient (Part Seven)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Words: 1,678

Warning: Smut

Notes: Sorry but this has been sitting in my drafts for almost three months...

It was that same day and, as you were laying in your cell and looked to the ceiling, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

You had found a man who was just as insane as you were and most prisoners in Arkham feared him. But you didn’t. You desired him in a strange way and, he desired you too. It was perfect. It was meant to be.

He told you that he would help you with the planned assassination of another prisoner. It was in his interest as well and, after that, you hoped that he would set you free, telling the authorities that your treatment had been completed successfully.

Whether he would, in fact, do that, you didn’t know and, at this point, you didn’t care.

Your roommate also didn’t seem to care for much that day, having once again fallen asleep within minutes while you were still laying there, awake, thinking about what you had to do.

But, just as you pondered on about how to kill the man who had hurt you so badly, the door to your cell opened.

‘Dr…’ you began to say but he immediately indicated for you to be quiet.

‘Shh’ he whispered before approaching your bed and teasing his hand over the fabric of your pants.

‘Other patients in this facility are already asleep. You don’t want to wake them. And, despite, you are meant to call me Jonathan, remember?’ he then winks before massaging your leg.

‘Well, Jonathan, we can’t…not here…not with her in the room’ you point out to him as he slides his hand up your legs further while you glanced over towards your roommate.

‘Your little friend here is fast asleep and, if she wakes up, we will let her watch and then tomorrow I give her this’ Jonathan says before showing you an ampule containing a green liquid.

‘And what will this do?’ you ask and he explains to you that it will make her forget what she saw all while tugging on your pants and pulling them down quickly along with your panties.

‘Now, if you mix this solution with another one however, then the effects of it will be quite different. We trialled this combination of poisons here at Arkham on some patients and, if you think that my fear serum has terrible effects on people, wait until you see the effects of these two drugs combined. I have been looking for a suitable candidate to conduct more studies on but I haven’t received permission from the board to continue my trials. If you, however, were to administer this drug to a man of your choice, regularly, other than me of course, then there would be nothing I could do about it’ Jonathan explains and you knew that he is trying to tell you that you should administer this combination of poisons to the man who ruined your life, Carmine Falcone.

‘Hmm Jonathan, now that idea is kind of sexy’ you say before pressing your lips on to his and pulling him towards you.

‘I knew you would like it. He will be without any guards tomorrow and, after his exam, his cell door will be left open inadvertently. You could simply enter it, if you like…’ Jonathan explains before his finger glides along the length of your bare slit and the pressure naturally parts your silky folds.

‘You are so bad doctor. I like it. And I like your kinky side too’ you gasp as, without warning, he thrusts his finger into your tight pussy and begins paddling in and out of it.

‘So wet already my love. You seem to like the idea of me fucking you right here while your cellmate is asleep, don’t you?’ Jonathan then says and you nod eagerly.

To your surprise, he sets you down, withdrawing his finger. Then, he quickly coils his hand in your hair, flips you around and slams you face forward onto the mattress of your bed.

‘Let’s try not to make a sound, shall we?’ Jonathan then says as he spreads your legs so far apart that you were suddenly squatting down, a few inches lower than your normal height.

‘I will be a good girl for you Dr Crane’ you smirk, dripping already from your arousal.

‘Good, because we don’t want to catch the attention of the guards either. I don’t have enough of this serum to go around’ Jonathan says, standing behind you as his hands slide around the front of your body and into your loosened top. He cups your soft full breasts before roughly digging his fingers into your flesh. He roughly gropes and fondles your breasts, then tugs on your puffy nipples. Clamping his fingers around them, he cruelly extends them outward, away from your body.

‘Jonathan, fuck’ you gasp, looking back and seeing your cellmate stir.

A deep growl of satisfaction escapes his lips. It is almost like he wants to be watched.

Jonathan rolls the little buds between his fingers and cruelly pinches them. He torments your aching nipples until you are squirming and crying in pleasure.

The sound of your silky voice hardens Jonathan’s throbbing cock even more. It's straining to break free.

‘Such a naughty girl, aren’t you? Letting me fuck you like this’ he mumbles as, once again, he reaches around the front of your torso. His hands roam down your tummy, eagerly seeking out your pretty pussy.

He closes his large hand over your shaven mound, pausing as he enjoys the feel of your soft flesh against his calloused palm.

You whimper but remains still. Gently, he coaxes open your lips and slides a finger into your tight pussy.

Your warm walls grip his finger, sucking it deeper into its depths.

He can't help but moan as he repeatedly pumps his finger in and out of your small hole, slowly stretching your open.

‘Oh god Dr Crane’ you moan as he forces another finger into your tight pussy.

With his free hand, he begins roughly circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He hears a moan escape your lips and he picks up the pace. Thrusting his fingers deeper into your little pink pussy, he continues strumming his thumb over your sensitive pearl until you are breathing heavily.

‘Your pussy is absolutely delightful Y/N. I cannot get enough of it’ Jonathan says, wetting his lips he bites your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your tender skin.

He wants you to feel pain. It turns him on and it certainly turns you on too.

Suddenly, Jonathan releases you and unbuttons his pants and pushes them down.

‘Well Y/N, you are mine now’ Jonathan says as he runs his hands through your hair before he pulls away and forces your legs apart.

‘I am yours’ you confirmed, losing your breath as, with one violent thrust, he buries his thick cock in your wet pussy.

You moan loudly and Jonathan pauses for a moment, before withdrawing his cock and slamming it back inside your pussy. Both, stinging pain and pleasure consumes you and you cannot help but moan, causing your cellmate to stir even more.

Jonathan moans in pleasure, ramming in and out of your tight pussy with long brutal strokes. Your pussy feels unbelievable, and your warm walls strangle his cock, sucking his shaft even deeper. He drills into your little pussy, relishing every minute of it.

‘Your pussy feels amazing. It grips me like a vice...’ he grunts while continuing to fuck you like a man possessed.

‘Oh god...’ you whimper, the sound barely audible.

You close your eyes as he fucks you with forceful, deep strokes. He's stretching you beyond belief and it feels amazing.

The Jonathan coils his hand securely around your throat. He doesn't tighten his fingers around your delicate throat, but the threat is poised in the air.

Suddenly you begin to grind back against him, meeting his powerful thrusts, knowing that this is what he wants.

Then you hear your roommate stir again and, when Jonathan looks back over his shoulder, he sees her eyes opening.

But rather quickly, they close again, possibly ignoring what she was witnessing or thinking that she was simply dreaming.

Despite the threat of your cellmate waking up, Jonathan continues to fuck you with animalistic strokes, and you groan loudly as your nectar gushes from your pussy, coating his cock and dripping down your ass.

‘Oh, God, your cock is so thick, Jonathan’ you whisper as he continues to take you. It's all too much and you feel an orgasm fast approaching.

‘I'm going to cum...’ you almost breathlessly moan as you submit to the pleasure flowing through your body.

Then, without any further warning, your pussy convulses and milks his throbbing cock.

The feeling of your pussy spasming around his hard cock sends him over the edge, and he cums just as violently, his warm seed, drenching your hole and taking root deep inside you.

You groan as you feel it pulsate inside of you, filling you with his cum.

Panting heavily and dripping with sweat, Jonathan releases you and steps away, his cock slowly softening. He looks between your legs, watching your combined juices drip down your thighs.

‘Hmm now look at this’ he says, dipping a finger into your pussy and then bringing to your mouth.

‘We taste perfect together’ you confirm as you suckle on his finger just as you hear your roommate.

‘Y/N’ she said out loud and all you could do was chuckle.

‘I am almost done with her. Go back to sleep’ Jonathan orders but her eyes were clued at you. Clearly, the serum was needed now and you even felt a glimmer of guilt about it.

Tag List:

@fastfan

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

@m3th-kate (cannot tag)

@damedomino

@lauren-raines-x

@miss-bunny19

@halleisheree (cannot tag)

@skinny-bitch-juice

@odorinana

@cloudofdisney

@lexiwoods (cannot tag)

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@allexiiisss

@geminiwolves

@letsstarsfalling

@ysmmsy

@chlorrox

@tommyshelbypb

@chocolatehalo

@music-lover911

@desperate-and-broken

@mysticaldeanvoidhorse

@peaky-cillian

@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz

@december16-1991

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

@romanogersendgame

@randomfangirl2718

@dorothea-hwldr (cannot tag)

@missymurphy1985

@peakyscillian

@lilymurphy03

@deefigs

@theflamecrystal

@livinginfantaxy

@rosey1981

@elenvampire21 (cannot tag)

@hanster1998

@mariapaiva13 (cannot tag)

@fairypitou

@zozeebo

@kasaikawa

@littleweirdoalien

@sad-huffle-nerd

@theflamecrystal

@peakymalfoyscullymulder (cannot tag)

@0ghostwriter0

@stylescanbeatmyback

@1-800-peakyblinders

@datewithgianni

@momoneymolife

@mcntsee

@janelongxox

@basiclassy

@being-worthy

@chaotic-bean-of-smolness

@margoo0

@vhscillian

@crazymar15

@im-constantly-fangirling

@namelesslosers

@littlewhiterose

@ttzamara

@cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon

@dolllol2405

@pkab

@babaohhhriley

@littleweirdoalien

@alreadybroken-ts

@masteroperator

@stevie75

@shabzy96

@rainbow12346

@obsessedwithfandomsx

@geeksareunique

@laysalespoir

@paigem00

@lkarls

@suneshinebelledaisy (cannot tag)

@vamp-army

@luckystarme

@myjumper

@gxorg

@eline-1806

@goldenharrysworld

@cristinagronk16

@stylesofloki

@faatxma

@slut-for-matt-murdock

@tpwkstiles

@myjumper

@cloudofdisney

@look-at-the-soul

@smellyzcat

@kittycatcait219 (cannot tag)

@theliterarybeldam

@bekkiemahonxx95 (cannot tag)

@layazul

@slutforprentiss03 (cannot tag)

@blossemedfloweroflove (cannot tag)

@lyn07

@kagilmore

@dakotapaigelove (cannot tag)

@50svibes

@mainstreetlilly

@ourthatgirlabby

@bitchwhytho

@arthurdeservesbetterrip (cannot tag)

@takethee

@registerednursejackie

@sofi128

@mrkdvidal1989 (cannot tag)

@minxsblog

@annipiola (cannot tag)

@queenshelby

#Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x you #dr crane x reader #dr crane #dr crane smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #arkham asylum #arkham

383 notes · View notes

birdlungg · 2 years

Note

hello it was great the story could you do lots of other romance young girl x carmine falcone please ( young wife , little sister wayne, ……. ??

I'm loving all of these Carmine requests!

Keep em coming!

reader is a young wife but not a wayne, wasn't quite sure how to spin it in yet

allusions to smut but not NSFW

Carmine Falcone x reader

It's another typical night at the 44 below, and you're sitting in a high balcony people watching with your body guard. You're decked out like you're ready to dance, but you're really just in the mood to sit and relax while you wait for Carmine. He said he'd be down with Oz in a bit after they're finished talking shop, so you're just waiting patiently.

You're sipping on a Shirley temple when they walk in, laughing at each other as they walk in with their security detail. You stand to greet them and Oz kisses your cheek on the way by.

"Hi, baby, hope you weren't waiting long," Carmine says as he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into a deep kiss, making you laugh a bit as his mustache tickles you. You grab the lapels of his blazer and sigh into the kiss.

Oz clears his throat and rolls his eyes at the both of you, still disgusted but getting used to your antics. You laugh at him and pull Carmine to sit next to you, crossing your legs and settling into the crook of his arm.

"So what were you guys so busy with today?' You ask them as you sip your drink. They share a glance from the corner of their eyes over your head that you don't notice. You normally get to hear all about their business transactions but sometimes they wanted to leave you out of it just in case.

"Well," Carmine starts, rubbing a thumb against your topmost knee. "Oz was just helping me with a little surprise of sorts. We've been married for a couple of months now, and I know you were looking forward to a honeymoon."

You nod, agreeing. You and Carmine didn't get much of a honeymoon because they were in the middle of a huge drop deal. You were a little disappointed but understood.

"Oz organized a little trip for us as a sort of late celebration. How do you feel about flying out to Paris for a week?"

Your eyes light up and you gasp looking between them as if trying to figure out if this was a joke or not. They're both grinning at you happily, but don't seem like they're trying to fool you.

You jump up and launch yourself at Oz, kissing him multiple times on the cheek. He laughs at you, trying to avoid spilling his drink as he embraces you.

"Easy sweetheart! Although if I knew you'd be treating me like this, I'd have offered to take you to Paris long before this guy even popped the question."

You laugh at him and settle back down next to Carmine, smooching him solidly on the lips as you sit. He glares playfully at Oz. "Careful there, pal. THat's my wife you're talking to."

He turns your head and kisses you again, humming against your mouth happily.

You sigh as you pull away. "So, when do we leave?"

"Well," Carmine starts, trailing a hand down your side, "would it make you happy if I tell you our jet leaves tonight?"

#carmine falcone the batman #carmine falcone x reader #carmine falcone #birds r us #the batman 2022

32 notes · View notes

ao3feed-brucewayne · 4 days

Text

Sonata in Darkness

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/SM08Ux3 by xbadgerbearx When a new serial killer prowls the streets of Gotham and murders politicians in Gotham, Batman is forced into unraveling the city's dark secrets. Only, he didn't expect to team up with you. What an unlikely duo... - no (y/n) mentioned but it is a reader insert - Batman x Reader Words: 2080, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English Fandoms: The Batman (Movie 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: The Batman - Character, Batman, Selina Kyle, Oswald Cobblepot, Carmine Falcone, The Riddler, Riddler, Annika Koslov, Alfred Pennyworth, Reader Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Reader, Batman/Reader, Annika Koslov/Selina Kyle Additional Tags: Reader-Insert read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/SM08Ux3

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

2 notes · View notes

howl-fantasies · 2 years

Text

Very special talent

A/N - So! Since I'm back from the dead, let's work here on this lovely request sent by @flaysthings : "Is there anyway you can do another Oswald x assassin/hitwoman reader?? Yet more in the romantic side? You can do whatever you want, but can the reader be the more dominant one? It doesn't have to be smut, but reader is just more in control 😅"

In this OS, the reader is not in relationship with Victor. She’s Oswald’s trusted hitwoman and work alongside Zsasz from time to time, but that’s it. I didn’t wrote smut here, I was on a fluff spree but kept the reader being the more dominant one, Oswald being the cute simp and dork we all know and like ❤

I hope you’ll like it :).

Warning : bad words, mention of violence, torture, Gotham - yeah it’s a warning in a way 🤷‍♀️ - English mistakes, it’s not my first language, I’m working on it.

Word count : 2,505

“Excuse me, come again?” Asked the standing woman, her bored tone betrayed nothing of her surprise if she had any. Seated just in front of her on a crate in the back of Fish’s ex club, Penguin sighed with his face in his hands.

His shoulders were pretty tensed and she could clearly see his growing distress, just looking at how he rubbed his hands on his forehead.

“I said, Fish escaped! Pay more attention Y/N! Victor called this morning to inform me. And since Butch didn’t come to work today, I suppose he was the one who broke her free!” He snapped, only to see her blink, not bothered the slightest by his terrible mood.

He was truly amazed by her capacity to stay calm when he yelled, threaten or break everything around him. Like she always did, she just stay silent and wait for him to collect himself, her eyes now looking absentmindedly at something on his left, indicating she was somewhere in her beautifully complex mind, maybe analysing what he told her and how to act knowing Fish Mooney would probably be somewhere, plotting something against him.

She had to blink a few times when Oswald’s fingers snapped a few centimeters away from her face and focused on him again. “Happy to see you back, my dear. Care to share what took you away from our current major crisis?” Asked Cobblepot harshly, not really liking to be the only one to panic right now. She couldn’t help herself and chuckled a bit seeing his frustration taking the best of him.

“Relax, Oswald. The mean Fish isn’t behind you pointing a gun on the back of your head”, She chuckled again and didn’t resist the need to tease the little man in front of her who jolted like the thunder had just stroke him and glared at her, seeming ready to behead her with a broken glass bottle.

“Relax? RELAX? Are you losing it Y/N?!” He asked, making a disbelieving face, like he was at this very moment questioning her sanity. “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO RELAX WHEN FISH IS PLANNING TO KILL ME WITH ONE OF MY CLOSEST GOON, WOMAN?!” He yelled so loud she could see the walls shake.

Y/N sighed deeply and suddenly put her hands on his shoulders to stop his ranting and furious movements. “Enough.” She demanded in a very cold voice, which surprised him so much he froze. Never before the woman talked to him like this.

She also rarely touched him. His astonishment reached another level though, when he felt her hands move from his shoulders to both of his cheeks, holding his face so she was able to look him straight in the eyes.

“Oswald.” She spoke in a commanding tone. He only gulped, too shocked to answer and not really sure about what to say or how to act with the woman’s face now very close to his. His blue eyes, couldn’t help but note the intensity of the e/c one pinning him on his spot.

“I said, relax.” She continued. “Fish doesn’t have any ally in town right now. She can’t do anything for the moment. And since she’s an intelligent woman, she will try to flee far away from the city to wait until things cool down.” She slowly nodded, as an encouragement for him to do the same. Which he did. She had a point.

“Now Butch, said the woman, isn’t really a problem. Victor told me a bit about how he conditioned his mind last time. Since he’s good at what he does, I think Butch would still be obliged to obey you. So you’ll just have to order him to do something conflicting, like killing that bitch, and he would be struggling between his loyalty to you and her. He would be literally unable to do anything. Isn’t it great?” She beamed.

This piece of information made him frown a bit. “I don’t know if I should be glad or highly disturb by the fact that Victor and you talked about torture as if you were chatting about the weather...” He muttered, making her shrug a bit.

“Well just be grateful I could stomach it and learnt a possibly valuable thing”, She sighed, slowly moving away from him and making him regret the warmth of her hands and the comforting effect they had on him.

He would never tell the hitwoman, but her cool-tempered personality always helped him to calm down and focus his sharp mind on the next steps of their survival instead of throwing the china all around the room. Yes, THEIR survival.

He would never tell her that too, but he she was one of the few he could really trust to have his back, maybe the closest he had to a friend with Ed and sometimes Jim.

Even if Y/N and Oswald’s official collaboration started a few months ago when Carmine Falcone asked her to be his personal body guard, assassin or whatever he wanted, they already met and had the occasion to work together, her being the Godfather’s emissary to collect informations about Maroni, Fish and Nikolaï from him.

Contrary to the three of them, she always was polite with him, really was interested in his answer when she asked him how he was feeling, being a double...triple...quadruple? agent and even a few times offered him her help if he needed it.

When he asked her if Carmine was the reason why she was so “kind” - as much as one could ever be in a city like good old Gotham -, she grinned sadistically before laughing, pretty hard at that.

He took offense, he remembered, but she explained him her generosity wasn’t because of Falcone. In fact, she talked about three reasons she had to act like she did with him.

First, she knew what game he was playing with the main underworld’s protagonists, and thought he played it remarkably well knowing the constant poor hand he seemed to have.

Second, because she saw the pure intelligence he tried to hide behind his weak reactions and persona. “Don’t get me wrong, without the element of surprise, you would be dead in a fight.” She said. “I know it but more importantly, you’re clever enough to know it too, Mr Cobblepot, I respect you greatly for that. And since you’re aware surprise is one of your best weapons, you always find a way to create one with this brilliant mind of yours, it’s a very special talent you have here.”

If he was a flustered mess after her praise, he definitely created a very new shade of red when came her final reason : “I don’t know why and can’t really explain it but I seem to have a soft spot for you, my dear.” He wasn’t able to articulate an intelligible word for a long time after her absolutely illogical last explanation.

Oswald wasn’t stupid, he knew pretty well good looking women like this one wouldn’t really want to flirt with him. He wasn’t strikingly beautiful, didn’t have tons of money to woo them with, like he suspected Carmine did with that Liza girl at first, before investigating her case, and didn’t have that much power at this time. So hearing someone as Y/N saying she had a soft spot for him confused him beyond measure.

Fingers snapped in front of his face brought him back to present. “Welcome back boss, care to share what took you far away from our major crisis?” She mocked with a mischievous grin when she saw him paying attention again. Oswald perfectly felt his cheeks starting to burn in embarrassment as well as his ears and his neck.

He had to clear his throat once to be sure his voice wouldn’t fail him and make him more ridiculous in front of the woman, who spoke again. “Someone was thinking about something inappropriate or are you simply catching a cold with your sorry ass seated on a poor crate in the back of your brand new HQ?” She teased, looming a bit and worsening his flustered state.

“Dont use those foul words Y/N! it’s not ladylike!” He snapped, jumping on the scolding excuse to avoid having to explain where his thoughts drove him a minute ago. “But you have a point here, ma chère, I’m not going to stay prostrated here waiting for everything I work so hard to have to collapse because of Fish and Butch escape.” He said while gritting his teeth.

In a second, he was on his feet, grabbing her hand without even realizing it, and pull her out of the room until they reached the main office of the club. Now, he had to think and fast, to be able to secure his new position and ensure Fish ex men wouldn’t try to turn against him when they would hear Falcone lost her.

He limped to the huge leather armchair and graciously sat on it, one of his hand curled in a fist under his chin while the fingers of the other rhythmically tapped on the polished wooden desk in front of him.

Next to him, on his right, she was standing, waiting patiently for the inevitable to come : “Y/N.” He called, after ten good minutes, turning slowly to be able to look at her properly.

She didn’t answer but was attentive, he could tell, judging by how her body slightly leaned towards him. “Go find all Fish’s ex allies, make sure they’ll stay loyal to me. I trust you to make an offer they can’t refuse.” He said with a cunning and vicious grin growing on his face.

She mimicked him, her answer only being the clicking sound of the security of her gun being lifted and a little mocking reverence. As she was turning away, she had to stop when he spoke again. “And Y/N. I want regular updates of your progress on this task, don’t you dare missing a text or a call”, he threatened.

His demand was a first. Oftentimes, he just ordered and knew she would obey and succeed. His sudden paranoia earned him a raised brow from her, then a sadistic grin and a low “Worrying for me boss? Aren’t you the cutest?” She couldn’t help but tease.

Though, her jest didn’t make him blush and screech like an angry bird as it would usually do. Instead, Cobblepot piercing blue eyes found hers, their intensity surprising her. “It’s the two of us now, Y/N. Fish, Maroni, even Falcone, they are all waiting for a false move from us to annihilate us.” He said in a low tone.

She nodded once. “I know, Oswald. But they’ll have to beat me first if they want to reach you. Even Falcone. I told you once, I perfectly know what throne you are aiming in this little game of yours, and I decided to join your side.

“No threat from Maroni, no plot from Fish and no order from Falcone would make me change my mind. At this point, not even Zsasz’s conditioning could. I said I would protect and help you and I will. Until you or I die, which would be pretty difficult to achieve to be honest, I’ll follow you, so don’t worry too much.”

He didn’t move, or blush, or even talk for a long minute, but she could tell he had something more to add from the way his lips were moving. “Please, Y/N”, He finally spoke, his voice now weaker and his eyes glassier, “don’t do anything reckless.” He pleaded.

“Don’t die on me and let me alone in this beautiful but cruel city, you’re one of my most precious friend and I can’t stand the mere idea of walking in the dark all alone.” He muttered, now looking at his hands.

She was stunned. He absolutely took her off guard. If she usually couldn’t stand whiny, clingy and too emotional people, it never bothered her when it was Oswald.

Y/N blinked a bit and finally sighed deeply, walking back to him, still watching his limbs like the dork she knew he was.

The man nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt one of her warm hands on his left shoulder, the other stroking his right cheek. And he nearly died when he saw her lean towards his face until her lips touched his left cheek.

He loudly gasped and by reflex, turned his head to be able to face the reason of his surprise, only for his nose to bump against hers and his eyes to open widely noticing the close proximity of their faces.

“Careful now Os, I don’t think you’re ready to take the next step here”, She purred a bit mockingly but with one of her rare soft smiles. He wasn’t, indeed. God, He wasn’t even able to describe what happened a second before and what was happening inside of his twisted head.

Though, he was perfectly able to describe how his heart skipped a beat when she moved up a bit to be able to kiss the tip of his nose. “Maybe another day, uh? Got some potential foes to deal with” She teased again, slowly moving away from him but never breaking eye contact, enjoying how his entire face was now bright red way too much.

“Wha-w-why d-did y-you do-...” He stuttered like an idiot, watching her turning the door handle. She threw him a last glance with the most mesmerizing shit-eating grin he had ever seen.

“Seems like you used your very special talent on me, brilliantly taking me by surprise.” She said, leaving the room and earing a “Who took who by surprise here Y/N?!” which made her chuckle. He was really too cute for his own good.

She only took a few steps outside before feeling her phone buzzing inside of her back pocket.

-------------------- 1 New Message ------------------

Oswald

Conversation isn’t over, Y/N.

...

Be careful outside.

...

Again don’t do anything reckless.

...

Call me if things go south.

...

Or Jim if I can’t answer.

...

But I will.

...

I’ll find a doctor. Just in case you’re injured.

...

Come back as soon as you finish.

Y/N

Aren’t you the most lovely gem? ❤

...

Should be back for your goodnight kiss. If not, morning kisses then. Take care 😘

------------ End of message -------

She chuckled imagining the poor man all flustered in his office, with his red face held between his hands, throwing all the proper insults he knew at her. Well, she always liked a good challenge.

And Oswald Cobblepot oblivious and stubborn mind was one of the most appealing she ever face. Oh and how she planned to win this one, she thought as a crooked grin she couldn’t control bloomed on her face. He was just too adorable for his own good.

A/N - I hope you liked it! Have a beautiful day/night my dear and take care 💐🥰

#Gotham #Gotham villains #gotham fox #gotham fandom #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #Oswald Cobblepot #oswald cobblepot imagine #oswald cobblepot x reader #Carmine Falcone #fish mooney #gotham villains x reader #y/n #gotham fanfiction #gotham os

130 notes · View notes

comiicii · 2 years

Text

Gotham Tales II

part i | masterlist

Backdrop: You and Bruce have been friends since childhood. You are both heirs to your families' legacies. As years passed, things between you and Bruce changed and became strained. Takes place a year before the events in the film but takes elements that were established from before the film. Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Batman (R. Pattinson) x fem!reader Warnings: none that i can recall. some grammar errors, probably. A's Notes: here is a direct sequel to the first part of Gotham Tales! thank you for the support! i apologize for this taking so long to post. i also apologize if this doesn't meet your expectations. please like and reblog as well as give me some feedback or whatever comment you want. this was heavily inspired by two songs; 'haunted' by maty noyes and ‘for us’ by osman. Word count: 2.6k

“The Prince of Gotham finally comes out of hiding,” Carmine sings as his hand on your waist tightened, an indication that he was enjoying this. You and Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s royalty ripe for manipulation. “I’m assuming it took some convincing from Princess over here, hm?” he continued without missing a beat.

“Carmine, Bruce and I were just catching up.” you eyed Carmine with what looked like a refined anger; it was evident that you were unhappy and usually you were careful of not letting your emotions get the best of you.

You didn’t like what would come of their interaction. It scared you that Falcone would use Bruce in a way that would hurt him. You couldn’t care less about what Falcone did with you but when it came to Bruce, you wanted to keep him as far away as possible from your world that involved Falcone. Not only did you not want Bruce to know of the relationship you had with Falcone, you simply didn’t want your friend to look at you differently. Bruce assumed the worst in people since he lost his parents. It wouldn’t surprise you if he did the same with you if he were to ever find out about the world you struggled to keep at bay.

The look you gave to Falcone was the first time in a year that Bruce saw anger within you. He had seen you angry before, especially at him, but this was different. You were protective but also scared. You were hiding something and it was his intention to find out what it was.

“Beautiful, mind joining me for a dance?” Carmine asked, his hand on your body already guiding you away from the man you were protecting and quite frankly, he liked seeing you be protective. It was cute. Bruce looked on as he took another sip of his drink, prepared to follow your every move like a hawk.

“That was real cute, protecting the little prince from me.” he started as he held your frame close to his. One hand on the small of your back while the other delicately held your hand. It took all the restraint you had to not slap him in front of all your guests. Most probably were waiting to see you explode while some just wanted to see Falcone be humiliated by you. Guess you’d be disappointing everyone tonight.

“Carmine, leave him out of this,” you softly pleaded. “please.” Being soft was a safer route than being crass with him. You were stroking his ego; begging him to spare your friend. “He knows nothing and I’d like to keep it that way. He’ll never hear a word from me about what we have going on.” you continued, pressing your body closer to his as you danced. Letting him feel you against him. Your phrasing intentional, of course. If you played into whatever image he had of the two of you, he would back down. Playing that doe-eyed damsel is what usually got him to do what you wanted. He scoffed with a smirk. He knew what you were doing and on the contrary, he loved it.

“Look at you, thinking I’ll do whatever you say,” he chuckled as his hand on your back ever so slightly slid further down, just taunting to hold you where it would be humiliating to you; metaphorically and physically. “As ravishing as you are in that dress—and you are quite the beauty every time I see you, doll— you can’t tell me what to do. If I want to mess with your little prince, I will. If I have to remind you who’s in charge between the two of us, I will.” his hand squeezed yours; not gently like he usually did. It was harsh and even if no one was paying attention, he made it crystal clear. The image of the two of you being the definition of how this man held the power over you. He owned you and if he had to be a little rough with you to make it easy for you to understand that, then so be it. It was humiliation at its finest and while you were the object of his affections, it was a reminder that you were not in control. He was the one who called the shots and you were to follow even if it seemed like he let you do what you wanted. In the end, your money was mixed with his. It was tainted and everything you did would be tainted if you barked back at Falcone.

Bruce could see the discomfort and fear that shone in your eyes. The extravagant chandelier hanging above highlighting it for him (and everyone else who was looking at you both) to see. He could see the tears starting to form in your eyes. Whatever you were going to tell him before, he knew had to do with Falcone. Your facade of comfort fading and fear setting in.

“Mr. Falcone,” a gruff voice interrupted the humiliation, “We have to leave.” It was the Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot. You didn’t have many encounters with him, only a few from your visits to the Iceberg Lounge when Falcone requested your presence. Oz never spoke to you coldly, always with respect. You didn’t know if that was because of his genuine fondness of you or if Falcone told him to never speak to you rudely. You’d never know the truth but his interruption made him your lifesaver. The look of fear and pain in your eyes enough for him to feel an inkling of pity for you, Gotham’s Princess.

Carmine nodded at Oz, whispering to him to wait outside. He walked you back towards Bruce, his arm back around your waist as you intertwined your arm in his, giving you time to compose yourself.

“Beautiful, sorry that I have to leave so soon. I’ll see you around.” You swallowed your fear as the two of you were in front of Bruce. He brought your hand to his lips, a soft peck grazing your knuckles as he smiled and turned to Bruce, “Mr. Wayne, mind keeping her company for me for the rest of the night?” Bruce nodded, a cue for him to leave. “Have a good night, sweetheart.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your hand found Bruce’s and the nausea you felt subsided. What was supposed to be a peaceful night turned into one of the worst.

“Are you alright?” Bruce broke the silence once he noticed you were calm again.

“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Wayne, can I get a picture?” John, the paparazzo from the other day chimed in before you could respond. You put forth your best smile and adjusted your body against Bruce’s; your front angled against his torso as his hand found its place along your waist. For the first time that night, you enjoyed having a man’s hand on you. Bruce mustered whatever smile he could. It wasn’t as radiant as yours but still made him look handsome.

“Wow, first time you guys have been photographed in God knows how long.” John sighed with content as he looked at the picture that would surely make headlines tomorrow. To him, it looked natural. It had been years since the two of you were photographed. The last time the two of you were photographed was when Thomas Wayne was running for mayor. He and Martha were seated on their patio next to your parents, both couples content with the scene before them; Bruce and you running around the spacious backyard. You were playing a princess and Bruce was the brave knight who had just slayed the dragon holding you captive. The headline for that picture was related to Thomas and his campaign but the main focus were the two of you. You two were thought of as the future of Gotham. The children that would carry the legacy of both your families. You and Bruce were thought to be destined for each other. Destined to carry the Wayne and Y/L/N legacies. Together. There were plenty of other pictures of the two of you afterwards but after Thomas and Martha’s murders. This photograph made it look as if you were carved for each other’s bodies; you, the radiant beauty of the city and Bruce, the reserved but handsome Prince of Gotham. John thanked you both and made his way to the bar.

Bruce’s hand remained on your waist as your head rested on his shoulder, breathing in his scent as a way to ground yourself. He didn’t say anything, his thumb rubbing against the soft fabric of your dress in a soothing motion. You didn’t want the moment to end. You wanted to stay where you were. Reality was that you couldn’t escape the dread that was in the pit of your stomach. That feeling was going to stay there for as long as you were to be in the situation.

“Bruce,” you whispered, not moving your head, “take me home, please.”

Without pause, Bruce found your hand and led you out of your own gala. You were sure the press was going to widely speculate about the nature of your departure with him. Maybe, for once, you’d enjoy reading about it.

Bruce took you home and without much thought, you invited him inside. Your manor was grand and you managed to maintain the estate with the exception of stacks of paperwork littering the main dining table. You were like your father, an organized mess when it came to paperwork. It made Bruce smile because despite being seemingly perfect, you had a flaw.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess at the moment, haven’t had the time to clean up for company.” You sheepishly apologized as you shed your coat from your shoulders. You hadn’t realized Bruce was behind you until you turned around and bumped your chest with his with a slight ‘oof’. His demeanor had returned to its usual neutral but rigid state. He never knew when to let something go. So stubborn you thought. You knew what he was thinking with the look he had on his face.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Bruce,” you sighed as you looked at him with sincerity despite the words leaving your lips being utter lies. Your fear for him was sincere. You walked past him to the small bar where all your liquor was displayed, pouring yourself a glass of rum.

Bruce didn’t ease in his suspicion of you hiding the truth from him. It wasn’t something that you often did or maybe he just didn’t notice. After all, you had this hold on him that he couldn’t quite explain. There was something that lingered in your eyes after Falcone left and while you insisted it was nothing, your eyes betrayed your lie. You didn’t want him to know the line you were constantly trying to avoid crossing.

“Remember how we used to play hide and seek when our fathers were holding some sort of meeting?” you attempted changing the subject with a sip of your glass, your back still to him. God, you’d be dehydrated tomorrow morning. A small smile spread across your lips at the vast memories of the two men conversing at the table. It was always business when the two spoke and you were running around in the background with Bruce. You missed the warmth of your childhood. The only warmth you were getting in return was from the alcohol numbing your fear.

“Why do you keep deflecting?” he finally spoke as he eyed the back of your dress. As much as he wanted to know the truth, some thoughts that littered his brain tonight were simply about you and that dress. More specifically, you without that dress. Each passing moment that you spent in his presence, the thoughts that he’d suppressed were crawling their way to the forefront. Edging him to throw whatever was his mission with you out the window and indulge himself with you if you wanted to do the same. His physical want for you and his stubbornness to figure out what you were hiding from him were causing a raging battle within himself.

He knew you were avoiding his gaze. You were close to spilling whatever it was that was haunting your subconscious. He knew that you wanted to tell him but just couldn’t bring yourself to do so due to the fear instilled within you. Bruce knew that it had to be serious if you were in such a state. He knew you were strong. Stronger than him, for sure. You always knew how to act, react and say no matter the circumstances but with Falcone, it seemed like you weren’t sure what to do. It was the first time he’d seen fear within you. You were born in Gotham, by definition born tough. You’d fiercely defended your family (and his) through the years with the growing wage gap and drug epidemic. You were practically the spokesperson for Bruce for the last decade or so since he didn’t speak publicly. You had taken on that mantle. He just wanted to help you. From following you through the media and whatever Alfred said to him, you were so strong and taking on the world. He regretted the way the two of you ended the conversation the previous year. It gutted him to see you struggling. He didn’t want to lose you like he did his parents. He didn’t want to have a front row seat to your death due to your campaign to help this city you two called home.

“Please, Y/N…” his voice so soft and pleading for you to just spill everything and let him in. His feet padding across your marble floors until his body was just inches away from your back. You could feel the warmth radiating off of his body. You turned around with eyes glossy from the alcohol combined with tears of the utter fear that still coursed through you at the thought of Carmine Falcone hurting him. Maybe it was the alcohol heightening every emotion and making you want to spill your secrets.

“Falcone…” you started, trying to steady your breathing as it felt like you had forgotten how to breathe on your own. “I’m so scared, Bruce,” you shakily admitted.

“What’s he done to you?” he softly questioned, a hand coming to hold your hip while his other gently wiped the tears that had started to fall. “Please, Y/N…tell me.” Bruce didn’t often show his vulnerable side. It was rare to see him show emotions aside from anger and disgust. He kept his emotions in check with everyone. Well, everyone except you and Alfred. You were the only two who saw his varying emotions. It was absolutely killing him to the point of tears. Seeing the pain on his face only made the conflict rage on.

Telling him would risk his life. Despite being the Batman. There was no guarantee that he would survive the men that guarded the biggest mob boss in Gotham. But in not telling him, you risk your own life and the risk of your family name being torn down by Falcone. There was nothing that guaranteed you and Bruce would get away scratch-free. The risks were too high to do either one. Whether it was the alcohol or your nerves being fried from being on edge earlier, your brain didn’t have time to stop the words that spilled from your lips.

“Kiss me.”

a's taglist: i'm sorry if you were unable to be tagged!@strawberriebabbles @summerkate @pcyshi @anescapistreality @nicklet94 @nowayhomerry @1-imaginary-girl

#the batman 2022 imagine #the batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #battinson #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #robert pattinson #the batman #bruce wayne #dc imagine #dc imagines #dceu imagines #dceu imagine

95 notes · View notes

usetheeauthor · 2 years

Text

I Know What You Did Last Weekend 18+ (Smut)

Battinson!Sub!Bruce Wayne x Kravitz!Dom!Selina Kyle x Switch!Curvy!Villain!Fem!Reader

A/N: This was long overdue. I think both Zoe and Robert are absolutely hot so I had to do it to ‘em! The picture is not meant to represent the reader’s appearance. This switches between POVs. It’s first person for your POV in the beginning while Selina’s and Bruce’s are in third/second towards the ending. Also, this is really filthy and Selina’s def top 😅 Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.1k+

Summary: Bruce goes undercover at the popular nightclub, “Club Succubus”, in search of a serial killer who murders very powerful men. Selina wants vengeance. She’s looking for the woman who killed her father when it should’ve been her. Little did they know, you’d be a lot tougher to resist.

Warnings: use of Y/N, violence, murder, blood kink, threesome, oral sex (m & f receiving), DUB CON, dom/sub dynamics, p in v penetration, unprotected sex (pls be safe), cum eating, girl on girl, spanking, slight mommy kink, slight ass worship (reader’s got a wagon), use of oil, face sitting, use of handcuffs, hair pulling, dirty talk, slight themes of misandry and misogyny, implied body shaming

Y/N’s POV

The smell of sex wafting through the air. That was the way I liked it. I craved an atmosphere of full debauchery and zero inhibitions. Club Succubus was my creation. Here…I did whatever the fuck I want. No rules, no worries, no bullshit. Hell, I even recognized some cops frequenting this place of sin.

I look over at the entrance recognizing the face of a man whom I’ve despised for so long. Carmine Falcone. The dirty bastard. He’s taken business deals from me for as long as I can remember. The crime world was dominated by men and no one took a woman getting her foot through the door seriously. Slowly but surely, I’ve found my footing in this city along with loyal members who help carry out my plans for Gotham. But him. He was always an obstacle that kept me from being fully feared by everyone. That will come to an end. There’s no place for a man like him in this city. I’d be doing everyone a favor getting rid of him.

I’ve flirted with him times before. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d dismissed me because I was a curvier girl. Yet, here he was in my nightclub specifically looking for me.

His eyes land on mine as I sat in VIP section. I smirk. He makes his way over to me, eyes intense with lust.

“Baby, you’re looking ravishing.” He says, breathlessly raking up and down your figure.

“Mr. Falcone,” You smiled before standing up from your purple, tufted throne chair. You sauntered down the short steps towards him. “You know, I wasn’t sure you’d come. After all, I was convinced that you were way too vanilla. Couldn’t handle a body like mine.” You ran your hand over his shirt and see his Adam’s Apple bobbing.

“It’s not like that, baby,” He bites his lip, hypnotized by your hands roaming his body. “Just…you intimidate me.”

“Why?” You pout, keeping up the innocent ploy.

“Well, I have all the things you want. Power, the fear of the people, loyal subjects at the palm of your hands. You must be mad at me, babe,” He grips your ass, pulling you closer to him. “Can’t help how good I am? The ladies love an alpha.”

“All those things are true. Especially the part about me being mad. I’m so mad, in fact,” You lean into his ear. “I’d like to punish you.”

Taking his hand, I led him to a private room in the back. I could practically taste the power pouring into me. I was soon going to be queen of Gotham.

When we arrived to the room, I immediately threw him onto the bed earning a surprised chuckle from the trashy douchebag.

“Whoa, honey, I make like it rough but I’m still fragile.” He says looking up at me. I pull out some handcuffs from the drawer nearby, swaying my hips side to side as I walked over to him. I grab his wrists, putting them above his head and locking them to them into place.

I shove a hand down his pocket. “I don’t have any cash on me if that’s what your looking for. Didn’t know this ‘business’ exchange required any compensation.” He smirks.

“No, babe, I’m looking for this,” I show him the magnum. “Gotta have protection, right?” I yank his pants and underwear down his ankles before rolling the condom over his unimpressively average length. I climb over him, sliding down on his length. “Besides, I’ll get all the compensation I need right here.” I whispered, darkly.

I began riding the crime lord, trying to keep myself from rollin my eyes at his insufferable moans. While his mind was occupied by the pleasure, I slowly pull out a dagger from my thigh holster. I knew it’d only be minutes until this was over. Taking my chance, I stab him in the chest as he reached his climax.

I lean over him. “I told you I’d get my compensation.”

His eyes were wide, coughing up blood as he began processing the image of the knife in his chest. “You won’t get away with this. Do you know who I am? I have connections. Fucking cops work under me. You’ll be on a lot of powerful people’s lists. You’ll be dead before you could even step out the door.”

“You’ve underestimated me, Mr. Falcone. Your men, the ones that you brought to protect you, they belong to me now. Those cops you have working for you, mine. Everything is mine now. The power, the fear, the people all mine!” I shout as I continued to stab him over and over. The blood gushing and spraying all over the bed and room. I laugh maniacally, finally reaching my climax from the high of finally winning.

When I’ve had my fill I looked down at my finished product, the crime lord looking barely recognizable. I hop off of him, walking over to the mirror. I smile at my reflection. My tight white dress and hair covered in blood. I resembled Carrie and I absolutely loved the look. This was the look of a new boss.

~~~~

Selina’s POV

“Authorities are saying that the body of Carmine Falcone was found his home on the evening of Saturday. His body was discovered by a dancer and lover who works at his nightclub. It is shocking to see a man like him go down so brutally to say the least but police are doing their best to search for the person or persons responsible. Until then—” Selina switches off the television set.

Her emotions were a mix bag. There was pity, sadness, joy, anger…it was all there. He was her biological father after all. Yet, he was a disgusting piece of shit that left her mother for dead. He was responsible for the death of her former lover, Annika. She wanted to be the one to kill him. Whoever did it stripped her from the right. She was going to find them and kill them. In her twisted form of justice, it would be an indirect way of getting back at her father.

She just needed to know who could have had the balls to carry it out?

~~~~

Bruce’s POV

*Inner monologue*

Y/L/N, Y/F/N. To those on the outside, you were just what they’d call a “girl boss”. An admirable woman with a business mindset. Every man’s dream. But I know women like you. You have a fiery spirit. In the wrong hands, however, that spirit can be deadly.

*end of monologue*

Bruce looked at your file name. You were the perfect match. In your younger days, You had time in and out of the criminal justice system for crimes against men specifically those in power. Now in your late 20s, they’d say you’d had a clean slate every since then. Bruce knew better. While law enforcement turned and looked away at certain things, Bruce took a magnifying glass inspecting the issues further. It’s what made him the best detective in all of Gotham. It’s what made the people believe in Batman.

Club Succubus. That’s the nightclub you owned. You couldn’t have gotten this powerful unless you had to stomp on a lot of toes including your biggest competitor. Bruce figured that instead of going as The Batman, he’d go as himself. That way he’d bait himself as your target. You went after men with money well here he was. Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, powerful, influential. It was just what you were looking for as your next victim.

~~~

Y/N’s POV

Somehow being at the top just wasn’t enough, I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger. Sure, business was booming and I’ve been running the town sweeping it with fear. Sure, the people were beginning to know my name. But I wanted a challenge.

As if God heard my prayers, in walks Bruce fucking Wayne! Walking into my club?! I didn’t take him for a guy interested in scenes like this. By the look on his face, this was definitely something he’s not into. Maybe he was looking for someone who could teach him the ropes.

I haven’t done much research on the guy so I don’t exactly have him on the list of men I’d like to kill (i call it the MiLK list) but he’s got the money. Who knows if I rock his world enough, I could get him to invest some of his money into my club.

I make my move. I stalk towards him like a predator to its prey. His eyes were on mine and if i’d blinked I would’ve missed the millisecond of lust in them. I reach the man in all black. He was quite gorgeous up close. Electric blue eyes, pink lips, a jawline that was evidence of God’s favor of him. It was the first time anyone had taken my breath away. I quickly recover.

“You’re Bruce Wayne. You’re hardly ever in the public eye. What brings you to a place like this? Looking for some fun?” I tease.

“Business, actually.”

“Really?” I tried burying my excitement as much as I could. Didn’t want to look eager. However, this could be my huge break.

He nods. “Mind if we could go somewhere more quiet to discuss?”

“Y-yes,”I stuttered out, too excited for your mouth to speak. “Right this way.” Just I took him by the arm to lead, a woman in a tight red stops you in your tracks.

“Omg! Have we met before?” She flashes a pearly, white smile at you.

She was gorgeous, soft golden brown skin shimmered under the neon lights. Her lips were red and full. Her eyes carried a look that was sultry yet dangerous. “Not likely. I would’ve remembered a girl like you.”

“My name is Selina. Selina Kyle.” She looks between me and Bruce. “I’d hate to interrupt. I won’t keep you long but I would love if we could go somewhere quiet. Maybe we can catch up.”

I was currently between two very sexy people. This just might work in my favor.

“Sure, we can all go.” I lift my finger in a “come hither” motion. “Follow me.” I lead them down the pink lit hallways. The music and thumping gradually decreasing in sound.

When we’d finally arrived to the room, the moment I’d shut the door. Selina presses me up against it, a knife to my throat. “I know you sent your men after Carmine.”

I laugh. “I didn’t send anyone after Carmine. I killed him myself, sweetie.”

Selina looks at me in shock.

————

Bruce’s POV

Bruce had it all figured out. He’d go to the nightclub in Bruce Wayne persona, knowing you’d bite because you went after rich, powerful men. He’d gather the evidence he’d get from your private room opening the case for the DEA to finally care.

His plan now out the window the moment Selina stepped in. She hadn’t recognized him. Only knowing him as The Batman. Of course she’d do something as reckless as this.

“She really is stubborn.” Bruce thought, gritting his teeth.

Selina continues, the knife still pressed against your neck. “How’d you kill him?”

“I stabbed him a bunch of time with his shrimp dick still inside me. Then I made my men put his body back in his office like it was a regular Sunday. Couldn’t have him rotting in my club. For some big boss guy who fucks anything that moves, he sure sucks at fucking. Didn’t make me cum once. I had to handle myself all on my lonesome,” You say in a teasing, pouty voice. “I think maybe you can change that.”

She presses the blade deeper into the skin, on the verge of breaking skin. “Why’d you do it?”

“Selina, let’s put away the knife. You don’t have to do this.” Bruce speaks up, walking over to the catty women.

Selina ignores him, her eyes still staring intensely at you. You still bore a smirk on your face.

“What’s so fucking funny?” She hisses.

“Are you one of his whores or something? I did you a favor getting rid of him. He was a piece of shit and you know it.”

“I-I was…his daughter.” She fidgets nervously.

“Oh shit,” You scoffed. “You mean, that fucker was your dad. No wonder you want to kill me. You’re avenging father dearest.”

“That’s where your wrong, kitten,” You can feel your pussy begin to throb at the raspy, sensual way she said it. “I wanted to kill him, too. He killed someone I loved. I wanted to do it. I couldn’t. The time wasn’t right. Then, you come in and you take what could’ve been my peace. The only way I can get closure now is if I kill you.”

Selina cuts a small line on your neck. You let out a pained moan that sounded as if you enjoyed it. You can feel that the cut had drawn some blood.

“Selina, it’s not worth it. You’d just be getting yourself in trouble. Then what will this all be for. Avenging the ones you love doesn’t mean having to kill those who’ve wronged you.” Bruce pleads.

This frustrates Selina. She was tired of people telling her what to feel; to do. She turns on her heels pointing the knife in his direction. “I am tired of people—-men… telling me ‘no’. I don’t think I’d want to hear anything more from you.” She points the knife at you. “You! You’ve got handcuffs somewhere around here, don’t you? Get them and cuff him.”

You were about to head over to the draw when she pulls you by the end of your hair. “Actually, you show me what drawer to get them. Don’t want you trying to reach for your handgun of anything.” She winks before pushing away at your head.

“It’s in the first drawer near the bed.” You were honestly fearful for your life. You somehow even felt bad for Bruce who’d only been an innocent bystander.

Selina reaches for the handcuffs also finding the handgun you stored there. “Good thing I went for it myself.” She laughs. Throwing the cuffs for you to catch, she aims the handgun at you.

“Cuff him.”

“What are you doing?” Bruce growls, fuming at this insanity.

She turns the gun to him. “I said I don’t want to hear you.”

Bruce complies understanding he needs to in order to make sure no one gets hurt. He puts his hands out in the front of him.

“Oh no, baby, I want them cuffed to the back. Suit jacket and shirt off, by the way.” Selina demands.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching before doing what was commanded of him. He pulls off his jacket and shirt revealing his washboard abs. You clipped the cuffs around his wrists. Despite your fear, you were quite turned on. You could feel your panties drench at the situation; Bruce’s half nakedness not helping your state.

“Sit him on that chair.” She flicks the gun over to the royal purple accent chair.

You lead him to his seat. He lowers, looking up between the women. A tent suddenly forming in his slacks.

Selina pushes down at the top of your head. “Down, kitty.”

You obey, falling to your knees in front of Bruce and both your eyes met one another’s.

“I’m sure you know what I want you to do. After all, you like you’ve gone through this plenty of times. So go on.”

“I-I d-dont know what you want.” You stutter out.

“Awww, what happened to the ruthless bitch that had no problem killing my dad? Figure it out. You’re not on your knees to polish his shoes.” She squats to your level, pressing the barrel against your temple.

Bruce looks at you apologetically, only to find that you were completely enjoying this. He’s now convinced that he’s in a room with crazy people.

You bring your hands shakily up to his slacks, unbuttoning and unzipping them. You lower them just enough for you to have access to him boxers. His breath hitches when he feels your fingertips against his bare skin. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by all of this. He blames the women for his corruption. He must not be thinking clearly. All he had to do was focus and— his thoughts are interrupted when he feels your hands wrap around his painfully hard member. He bites his lip to keep himself from whimpering. He wasn’t very experienced in the sex department only having had 2 partners because he’s always so busy. Any form of touch was enough to have him panting.

“Look at that fat cock, kitten. He’s so hard,” Selina licks her lips. “Every inch of that will be going down your throat soon. Wanna see you gag on it like a pornstar. Give me a show.” She sits at the edge of the king-sized bed, looking at our direction.

You wouldn’t hesitate any longer. You wanted to taste him. To make him see stars. You make no haste, swirling your tongue around the tip and giving it a fervent suck.

Bruce lets out a shaky moan, his head thrown back against the chair. Selina immediately stands up, strutting over to him, taking him by the hair and forcing him to look down between his legs; at you.

“No. You watch. She’s gonna give a performance of a lifetime so have some decency.”

You smile up at her before turning your attention back to his. Never had you worship a cock the way you would to his. You bring your mouth all the way down his length, letting him hit the back of your throat.

He whines. You can see his restraint to keep quiet. To keep himself from enjoying. You were going to break him. You bob up and down on his length, the suction noises filling the room. You look at him noticing the way his eyes flicked between looking into your face and staring at the way your ample ass swayed side to side in delight.

“Look how happy you made, kitty,” Selina moans, dropping to her knees next to you and tossing the gun a close distance away from her. “I think I’ll have a taste, too.”

The moment Bruce heard that, he knew he’d be a goner. You pull your mouth away, a line of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his dick. Selina cups your face and plants an intimate kiss on your lips. Your tongues massaging each others as she attempts to taste him indirectly through you.

She breaks the kiss. “I think I wanna taste more.” She brings her mouth to his length and licks. You put your mouth back on him as well. Both of your tongues playing with the tip, every now and then your tongues would meet once again. You rubbed your thighs together, hoping to get some friction when you heard him finally begin to moan and tug at his restraints.

“Oh, he likes it,” Selina exclaims. “Don’t you, you little slut?”

He nods, breathing hard.

“It’s rude to nod. Tell us how much you appreciate us sucking your cock.”

“Thank you.” He says through a strained tone.

“For what?”

“For sucking my cock.”

“He’s such a good boy. Isn’t he, kitten?”

“Yes, he is. Maybe we could reward him.” You purr.

The two of you shoot each other a playful look before Selina bobbed her mouth on the thick, curved length while you licked and fondled at the balls. These women were trying to kill him. He was sure of it. Because how could any man survive this kind of bliss. It was all too much.

He’d forgot all restraint and soon he was moaning like a pathetic mess of a man. “Oh god. Please I c-can’t. Too much.”

There was no letting up. You’d both wanted to see him crumbles. His stoic presence soon a shadow of itself. You can feel his testicles begin to tighten. Selina’s mouth off him, jacking him off and staring at him determined. You also remove your mouth to look up at him, your hands rolling and squeezing his balls.

“F-fuck. M-mommy,” He whines pathetically. “Please.”

You and Selina look at each other and smiling deviously. “Ohhh, he’s looking for mommies. Someone missing their mommy? Don’t worry, Brucey. We’ll take real good care of you.” You say, sucking and running my tongue on his tip while Selina continue to jack his length. His body began to tense and you both knew you’d be rewarded with his cum soon.

“Cum for us, pretty boy. We wanna swallow it all for you.” Selina encourages. He lets out a loud drawn out groan, ropes of cum spurt from his dick. Selina and you indulge, licking frantically to make sure no a drop is missed. He shudders against you both, forced to take overload of pleasure. When you were sure you’d gotten everything, you both make your way up to kiss and bite at his neck. You’d taken the key for the handcuff finally freeing him. Bruce takes this opportunity to place a kiss on Selina’s lips then kissed yours, then you and Selina once again. Each deep kiss filled with lots of tongue and saliva.

Selina pulls down your lacy panties and you follow suit removing hers, groping each other’s breasts. The two of you straddle each of Bruce’s thigh, grinding your cores against his grey slacks. He grabs a handful your ass, the other hand pulling down Selina’s top, tweaking at her hardened peaks. All three of you moaning into the atmosphere. You rub two fingers on Selina’s clit as she rode his thigh.

“Oh, fuck right there.” She moans, grinding faster against him. You could tell that his pants would be soak in your arousals but he didn’t seem to care. He just watch intently, moaning at the sight of two beautiful women who were getting off to his thigh alone. You thanked the fact that Bruce’s thigh had been strong enough to carry your weight especially with how forceful your thrusts were. It seemed like he had a thing for thicker girl making sure his hands would feel every part of you.

Selina stops her movements, standing up from his thigh. Both you and Bruce looking at her. “I’m thinking we should move this to the bed. I wanna try some things,” She points at the mattress in front of her. “Y/N, I want you on all fours. Brucey, you’re going to fuck her nice and hard for me. Be as brutal as you like for all I care.”

You obey. It didn’t matter to you that you’d probably be killed or in jail after this. You were going to get what you’ve been craving the moment you’d set eyes on these two. You remove whatever’s left of your clothes before crawling on your hands and knees on the bed.

You bend over enough so that your ass in the air was the main focal point. Selina takes a bottle of oil, lathering your bottom and give you a hard smack. You moan at the contact.

Bruce removes his clothes, on his knees behind you his hard length dangling between thighs like a third leg. “I don’t know if I could do this.” He says, almost innocently.

“All ya gotta do is stick your dick in her. Not rocket science, baby.” She teases, yanking her dress over her head and joining you both on the bed.

He sighs. “No, I mean, this isn’t right. She’s a criminal. We’ve got to turn her in.”

Selina attempts to speak up again, but it was your turn to make your case. You were not going anywhere. Not until you’re ruined by them. “Please fuck me, Brucey,” You groan. You roll your hips back, feeling his dick rubbing between your ass cheeks. “I know I’m bad but all I ask is that you punish me. Take me how you want me. Wreck me from inside with your cock.”

Selina smirks, glancing at Bruce who’s breathing had gotten heavy. “Hear that, sweet boy. She wants it real bad. You can’t be cruel enough to leave her hangin’.”

His large hands pull you rough against him. You squeak at his sudden ferocity, a pool of wetness seeping out of your core. He smacks the heavy manhood against your globes, guiding it to your quiver core. You’d still been sensitive there so when he taps himself at your entrance, you shiver in delight. He prods his tip at the tight hole, letting your folds swallow him in with little effort from him. You both groan simultaneously.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Selina rubs herself, watching where the two of you met.

Bruce strokes shallowly into your pussy. The light sticky, wet noises filling the silence. You whine needing him to fuck you long and deep. You attempt to fuck back into him, he holds you still by your hips, pulling even more of his length out of you so that only the tip rests.

“Shit, please, I need it.” You sob. You’re practically crying real tears.

Selina pulls his cock from your core. Wrapping her plump lips around the bulbous head. She sucks him deep into her mouth, swishing her tongue around. “She tastes so good,” She pulls off him, easing him back into your cunt. Going behind him, she whispers in his ear. “Go on, baby boy. Fuck her. Make her cum hard.”

As if he’s a robot waiting on the commands of his master, he immediately drive into you. He bottoms out and you swear that he’s made a mess of your guts. He pummels into you, fucking you into the mattress. Your cries bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck, fuck, holy shit.” You were unintelligible. All you could do is curse or say things that you really couldn’t understand. Bruce ramming into you the way a beast ruts into its mate.

Selina could feel herself dripping with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to take his cock next but first she’s like to focus her attention all on you. Bringing your face up from the mattress, your tongues meet in a passionate kiss. Bruce takes your arms crossing them behind your back, pinning them down with one hand. Now your body’s sandwiched between Bruce powerfully thrusting into you and Selina who’d kiss you in a way that made your toes curled.

She snakes a hand down to rub your sensitive nub. You gasp, grinding into her hand. When you moved forward, you’d feel her aggressively flicking at it and when you’d moved back, his cock would nudge the deepest parts of you. It was an overload of pleasure you’d never experienced.

“Fuck me now,” Selina says, lying on her back. Bruce pulls out of you, using your juices to slide in with ease into her. She moans, licking her lips. “Oh my god, baby. You’re so big. You’re splitting me in two. I can see why my little kitten over there was screaming for her life.”

Bruce leverages himself up with his hands, angling his hips the right way to hit into her core from the side. She throws her head back and bites her lip feeling the thrusts getting more desperate. You squeezed your thighs together, wanting to get rid of the ache. She opens her eyes and notices. “Aww, kitten, I didn’t forget about you. Come here and ride my face.”

Your eyes light up. You hover your slick coated core over her face turned so that you were in the 69 position and facing Bruce. Selina gets to work, licking and sucking at your pussy the way she did when she kissed you. You ground against her face, looking at Bruce with half-lidded eyes. You grip him by the neck and he groans. You pull him forward for a kiss, mimicking the movements of Selina’s tongue but in his mouth. His thrusts causing you to bounce along with them.

He plucks at your hardened nipple then lowers his lips to them sucking and twisting each bud. Both of their tongues caressing your body. You felt so lucky. Maybe Selina has already killed you and you’d gone to heaven. Or a fun ass hell.

“Lick that sweet pussy.” Bruce growls.

He pushes your head down so that you were in between Selina’s legs watching his cock moving in and out of it. Her juices messy all over his cock and her inner thighs. You stick your tongue out, flicking between her clit and tasting his length sloshing around inside her.

“Oh, fuck! You both are so fucking good. So perfect.” Selina cries out, sticking a finger in you and pumping. You fuck back into her fingers. With one hand still on the back of your head, the other smacks your ass.

The room filled with each other your moans and whines. You were sure anyone who’d accidentally walk in would blush but most likely stay for the show. It was sinful, filthy, it was so fucking hot!

“I’m gonna cum.” Bruce groans.

“Me too.” Selina moans, curling her finger and touching the soft button deep in you.

“Oh my god.” You can feel the coil building up more and more. The pressure almost scaring you at how much it was building. Bruce pulls out of Selina shoving himself into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down. You swallow and suck around him. The same time he cums down your throat is the same time Selina decides to give you the hardest orgasm of your fucking life. You scream into the air, frantically rubbing at her flowery bud.

She quakes and shivers underneath you. You lick at her core until she eventually clamps her thighs around your head from other stimulation. “Holy shit.” She laughs, her head feeling light from the shattering of her world.

You roll off of her and the three of you laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily. You can taste the remnants of them on your tongue; a reminder of your time with them.

You propped yourself up on your elbows. “So I��m guessing you’ll be turning me in to the authorities. It’s fine, though. I got all I needed anyway.”

“No, I think I’ll keep you, kitten. You’ll be my little play toy. What do ya think, Brucey? Should we keep her?” She bats her eyes at the blissed out man.

He groans. “Is that really appropriate?”

“Yes.” Selina smiles at you and you smile back.

You turn over to the brooding sex symbol. “I can make it worth your while, Brucey,” You kiss and suck at his neck. “I promise you I won’t be bad. I’ll be so good for you.”

Selina joins in, attacking at the other side of his neck. Bruce isn’t sure if he believes either of the women, but with their hands running ever so softly over his body, he can’t say he wouldn’t try.

91 notes · View notes