#the dark knight fanfiction

[allysunny]

Pls pls pls friends to lovers with an ass load of pining!!! I love the trope where literally everyone but her can see that he’s in love with her and they’re basically dating without the title. She’s in love with him too but a little more guarded/scared. They have fun traditions like a book club, and Bruce gives her the princess treatment. Pls pls pls, I’d literally love you forever if you wrote this

Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 15k words

Warnings: Friends to lovers, pining, two idiots in love but way too blind to see it, Alfred being a very sassy butler (I love Michael Cane sm), possibly OOC Bruce (I've never written for him before), some angst, love confessions, Christmas! and mistletoe, eventual romance of course! Not beta, we die like Harvey Dent.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay, but as I told you, uni was kicking my ass. I'm back now, and hopefully I'll be able to write a lot!

So, this is my first Bale!Bruce request, and I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm super, super nervous because I've never written for this man in my entire life? I love this trilogy so bad and even rewatched all the movies as I was doing this, because I wanted to make sure I got him right. Sure, he's a vigilante and a billionaire and a supposed playboy, but he's also just a man, and I sort of wanted to explore that.

There's so many layers to this man, it is insane. If there's anything OOC about him, please do let me know. I swear to god I tried my best, and I hope you like the finished result.

This is my longest word so far - I'm so sorry! It was supposed to be kinda short and sweet but I just ran with it! I don't know if it was for the better or worst, but I hope you guys like it nevertheless. Again, I'm sorry if it's somewhat OOC, I tried to get everyone's personalities just right. I'm scared of not doing these movies justice. I also took some liberties with this - Bruce and Rachel don't have feelings for each other, Bruce often goes to charity galas, etc. Small things.

Also, it's set somewhat in between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight!

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

Ever since he was a child, he knew most people were after him and his family for the money. Family friends cashing in favours done ages ago, things as small as having once lent his father an umbrella, women pretending to befriend his mother to accompany her whenever she went shopping, kids at school getting closer to him only to get a peek at the famed Wayne Manor and all the wonders it hid inside.

He'd rather be alone than have such leeches around him, surrounding him like vultures, waiting for an opening.

Kids who'd mocked him would apologise profusely days later, having learned about his family, offering their friendship. Once Bruce made it clear he had no intentions of inviting anyone to his place (he was just shy, really), they'd take back their so called “friendship”.

He was better off without such people.

They were few, the people he could trust. And even those he called his “friends”, he didn't trust completely. His childhood best friend, Rachel, had grown up and busied herself at the DA’s office. She reached out to him after he’d returned after all those years in training, but she was a busy woman, and Bruce had found a new passion himself – patrolling the streets of Gotham dressed up as a bat. They would talk often, but it simply wasn’t the same. They were still friends of course – childhood could link two people – but he’d changed, and so had she. No matter how well they got along, they were changed people.

So, he was back to square one, with no people to truly confide in.

There was, after all, a reason only Alfred knew of his secret identity.

No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a stranger to loneliness.

He preferred the peace and quiet of his home office to the loud ambiences of the parties thrown by pretentious people who wanted to pass by as charitable, and found that sometimes, being by himself was a better option.

Bruce Wayne could count with his hands how many “friends” he had, and how many were simply greedy bloodsuckers trying to get to his fortune.

All but you, though.

Never you.

Bruce met you a few years ago, at the bakery you used to work at.

He wasn't a regular - hell, he didn't usually eat at places like those. Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, dined at the best restaurants - a truth universally acknowledged.

But after being stuck in traffic for about thirty minutes (he'd sent Alfred on a makeshift vacation, having miraculously been able to convince the old man to take some time for himself), he decided to exit the cab and go for a stroll.

It'd been a stressing day, with about a hundred reports coming in for him to sign at Wayne Enterprises, the prototypes for his new motorcycle had proved to be a failure, and he was simply exhausted. A walk would do him good, clear his head.

That's when he walked by the bakery, noticing the colourfully decorated cupcakes and pastries on the shelves. The pastel-coloured frostings seemed far too pretty to eat, and curiosity got the best of him, compelling him to go inside and purchase one.

That's when he first saw you.

You took a while to take his order, quickly informing him you were working all by yourself. One of your coworkers was in labour, the other on vacation. You were baking, cleaning and waitressing on your own.

Bruce was surprised, to say the least. You were taking over each station, keeping calm even under pressure and tending to each task diligently.

When asked who baked the frosted treats, you smiled and told him you baked those yourself. Apparently, it was your first time exposing them, the owner of the bakery finally giving you some leeway to try your own cakes and sweets.

“No one's tried them yet, though,” you said, sheepishly. “People don’t really want to try anything new. They’re scared my food is going to suck. I keep telling myself they’re just scared of change, you know. To keep my spirits high.”

“I hear that,” Bruce replied. If he knew anything about people, it was that they were all terrified of the unknown. “It’s Gotham – what can you do? You bump into lunatics every other day. I’ll have the one on the shop window, the one with the pink frosting.”

Your eyes sparkled then, and Bruce swore he’d do anything to see them shine again and again.

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful smile playing in your lips.

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

You gave him an enthusiastic nod and went to retrieve the cupcake, placing it on top of a small place along with a fork. He paid for the treat along with a cup of coffee and sat down on a nearby table.

Unlocking his phone, he found a few messages from Alfred, asking him if he hadn't burnt down the Manor yet. Sure, maybe he couldn't cook nor clean nor take care of himself that well, but that didn't warrant a fire brigade to go check up on him, now did it?

Burned to the ground, he texted back in a joking manner. All that's left are the red slippers I gave to you last Christmas. Hadn't you lost them? It's a miracle.

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

Bruce chuckled, assuring his trusted butler all was well, and locking his phone once again.

If he looked from the corner of his eye, he could see you, nervously chewing on your lip while you looked at his plate expectantly.

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

Bruce tasted the coffee first, deciding it was far better than whatever he was drinking at his office, and slowly cut the cupcake with his fork (because why would he use his hands). HIs eyes widened once he finally bit into it.

It was good, really good. It tasted like strawberries - not that artificial strawberry flavoured crap he was sure was in most of the food out there - actual strawberries.

The frosting was sugary, but not too much that it became nauseous, and the mix of flavours melted in his mouth.

You’d approached him, breath hitched as you awaited his verdict.

“So?” You asked, after a while, giving him an apologetic smile. “How is it?”

“It’s good.”

“Really?” You graced him with the brightest of smiles, holding onto your little notepad. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Way to go, Bruce. Not corny at all. You’re the man.

Pulling the chair next to him, you sighed in relief and sat down.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared no one was gonna like them.”

“The people of Gotham are idiots if they don’t want to try these.” He took another bite of his cupcake and your smile only got bigger.

“Well, you said it. It’s Gotham. Even something as simple as a different coffee order will get their panties in a twist. Look at how everyone reacted to that Bat guy. He takes out a few criminals and cleans the streets, and suddenly he’s the bad guy?” you inquire.

“Bat guy?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know! Bat guy! They’re calling him the Batman. You’ve probably seen him on TV. Black cape, black cowl, black, well, clothes?”

“Ah,” he nodded, “The Batman, yes. I might have heard of him.” Might have. “What’s his deal anyway? I think the police are calling the guy a criminal.”

You scoffed, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “A criminal? The guy’s doing a better job than most cops. I think they’re just jealous. And pissed that someone’s not up for briberies.”

Bruce nodded, before turning to his cupcake. You thought what Batman did was right. He brimmed with pride.

“I don’t know – he sounds like your typical Arkham resident to me. Dressed like a bat, running around with a black cape?” It was practically wired into his brain by now, the way he attempted to detach his Bruce Wayne persona from his Batman one. Even if he’d just met you, even if you seemed genuine, he couldn’t help but keep up the façade. “They should probably lock him up.”

“That’s nonsense!” you exclaimed. “He’s the only one willing to do something right for this city. The only one who’s not being compensated by turning a blind eye to criminals like half of the GCPD are. The streets are safer with him around.”

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

And wasn’t that the reason for all of this? To make Gotham a better place? To clean the streets, to give people some hope in amidst all the chaos and darkness? Wasn’t that his goal – to give Gotham citizens their city back to them, and allow them to live unruled by fear? 

“Anyway - I’m sorry, here I am, sitting next to you while you probably want to eat by yourself. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Taking care of the shop by myself makes me feel a tad lonely.” You gave him another apologetic smile (although this one did not reach your eyes), and got up, hurrying behind the counter.

For a few moments, Bruce sat in silence, eating his cupcake, and sipping from his coffee. Good stuff – nothing like the ones Alfred prepared for him, but still good.

When he glanced back up, he watched as you quickly washed some dishes, brow furrowed in concentration. He took you all in, the way you carefully rinsed every dish, ensuring it was stable on the tray nearby before moving onto the next one. Once or twice, you looked up, observing the city through the windows. He saw you sigh softly and get back to work.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. A big one.

It wasn’t only that you were strikingly beautiful – that helped too, quite a lot – but there was something more to you that Bruce couldn’t really pinpoint and wanted to get to know more of. He was tired of fake people. Of all the fake smiles and fake laughter and fake parties and having to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. It was all for the greater good, sure, but hiding behind a mask was draining. No one knew that better than Bruce Wayne.

Before he realised it, he’d stood up, placing his plate and cup on top of the counter. The soft “clack” of it made you turn around and your eyes widened slightly.

“Oh – “ you mumbled. “It’s okay, I usually just do that.”

“Lifting a cup and a plate won’t kill me, I assure you.”

You chuckled and took the dishes, turning to the sink.

“You’re not at all like what people say.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like they describe you,” you said with a small shrug. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear and Bruce’s hand twitched slightly, perhaps wishing to tuck it back himself.

“So you know who I am?” he asked, a curious smile forming in his lips. He wasn’t expecting to be completely ignorant of him – hell, it’s impossible to be unaware of his existence when you live in Gotham.

“I have a television and friends who love gossip magazines. It’s preposterous to think of a person who hasn’t come across your face, considering it’s slapped in nearly every tabloid ever.” You chuckled, soaking his plate. “And there was the matter of your credit card – I thought American Express was a myth.”

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

“Everyone says you’re an arrogant jerk – “ The words come out of your mouth before you can process them, and he chuckles mentally, finding the way you stumbled over your words quite amusing. “I mean, that’s what they say – I’m not saying that you’re one, I just – I’m just repeating what’s been told to me. Anyway, yeah. You don’t seem like that at all.”

“And what makes you say that? We’ve spoken for all but five minutes,” he cocked an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You think for a while, gripping the towel at your hands and shrug again.

“I don’t know.” You turn to him. “Call it intuition, but I just felt like you were being genuine. I mean, you don’t have a bazillion models hanging off your arms – and it looked like you walked all the way here. No fancy sports car like the ones in the magazines either.” Another shrug. “You just seemed like a random guy when you walked in. No fancy titles whatsoever.”

Just a random guy.

Sometimes it felt like such a thing was unattainable for Bruce.

In front of the cameras, he had to be spoiled, rich, reckless playboy Bruce who bought hotels on a whim, hung around with hot models and spent his money on useless luxuries such as cars and yachts. When no one was watching, he had the weight of Gotham in his shoulders as Batman, sacrificing his mind and body every night just to make sure his people were safe.

It was impossible for Bruce to be just a random guy, no matter how much he wanted to.

But the way you said it – like you truly believed it – made him think twice about it.

You weren’t grovelling at his feet. Nor were you pretending not to know him as many others had done, in order to appear mysterious and different, and therefore catch his attention. No, you were just being you – or what he hoped was you. You knew who he was, admitted to seeing his face and knowing of his affairs, but that didn’t stop you from treating him like a normal person.

Just a random guy.

“Or maybe I’m just biased because you liked my cupcakes.” There it was again, that lovely smile of yours.

And you were funny too.

“I’ll admit, that was my tactic all along.” Bruce allowed a hint of playfulness to tint his voice, and your smile widened at that.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, just Bruce.”

“Alright then. Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” You smiled and went back to cleaning the counter. (You half expected him to leave without saying a word – why’d a billionaire entertain your company for more than a few minutes? – and were surprised when he stayed.)

“I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but,” he started, “Would you like to join me for lunch one of these days?”

You eyed him curiously and cocked your head to the side, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

“Why? I don’t exactly belong with your people, Bruce – whoever they might be.”

“I was actually just hoping I’d get some free cupcakes.”

At this, you snorted out loud, covering your mouth with your hand. The other clients in the bakery looked at you with a slightly disgusted face, and it only made you laugh louder.

Once you stopped giggling (and after having wiped some tears from your eyes), you nodded and turned to him.

“Alright, fine. Lunch sounds great. Although – I’m sure you’re followed everywhere. And I don’t really want to be the latest gossip magazine cover.” You crossed your arms. Bruce nodded in understanding. After all, he knew how troublesome the media could be, especially when they were looking for any crumbs that might get them any insight into someone’s life.

(Un)fortunately for him, they couldn’t see past the playboy persona.

“I’ll take care of that – don’t worry.” Was his honest response. “Let’s say it’s easy for me to… become invisible.”

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

“And how are you going to do that? Gonna wear a cap and sunglasses? A wig? Do we get to wear disguises? Maybe you could wear a mask!” Funny.

“I’ll just leave the American Express at home. Do you think that new Pizza place everyone’s been talking about accepts hundreds?” Bruce joked.

Your snort resonated through the bakery again, and the couple that had glanced at you earlier left, shaking their heads and muttering something about “decorum”.

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

Turns out that around you, he could be just a random guy, like he always wanted.

He started going to your bakery more and more, and convinced your boss to let you experiment with your cupcakes however you wanted.

“How the hell did you manage that?” you asked him, mouth open in wonder. “She told me I had full control of the menu! Two weeks ago, she said she didn’t want to try my sweets!”

“I’m very persuasive,” he replied, biting into a banana flavoured muffin – one of your more recent experiments. “It’s a bit chunky. Kind of bland, doesn’t melt on your mouth like the others do.”

“Yeah, I think I went overboard with the flour…” you mumble, writing something down on your notepad. “Anyways, how persuasive can you be? This woman has drunk the same cup of coffee for like, 40 years. She hates change.”

“Let’s just say I worked my regular Wayne charm.”

At that, you rolled your eyes and hit him with your towel but couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips.

He’d stop by every day after work, eager to try out your new recipes and have a nice chat. It was freeing to have someone he could call his friend, with whom he could have conversations that weren’t about his job, his money, or his other affairs. It felt nice to be able to share things with you, things he couldn’t find it in himself to share with other people.

It took him a while, but he eventually told you things about himself. Slowly.

He told you about his parents, how much he looked up to his father and how he adored his mother. He told you about his childhood, playing in the gardens of his Manor or watching his father fiddle with the stethoscope, hoping one day he could make a difference just like him. He told you how sometimes he would just watch his mother apply makeup in her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked. Other women of the high society always looked like they had this world and the next worth of makeup on their faces, but his mother was able to enhance all her natural features with a simple eye pencil or some lipstick.

“Makeup shouldn’t be used to turn yourself into something new,” she’d once told him, applying some sort of clear powder on her face. “Just to complement the beauty you already have.”

He found it easy to relate to that. Not the makeup, necessarily, but the whole “turning into a new person”. Batman was no different than him, nor was he someone different. He just brought out Bruce’s biggest desires, to keep Gotham safe.

In return, you told him about your childhood. About your first years in school, your friends and family. You told him about your passions, your wishes. How you wanted to travel the world and read as many books as possible. How you liked to laze around some Saturdays but couldn’t stay home and just had to get up and leave in others.

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

Some days, you’d be running around the Manor, goofing around with Alfred, and whipping up new recipes with him, the both of you jamming to old jazz that played on the radio – Alfred had been teaching you swing, and you enjoyed spinning around the room with him as lively tunes played.

(In fact, Bruce had walked in on you and him dancing a few times, and couldn’t help but lean against the doorway, watching and you laughed loudly and tried not to fall whenever his butler spun you around.)

It also went without saying that Alfred was over the moon now that his master no longer seemed to be alone. You might only be one person, but the Manor came alive whenever you were in it, and he relished in knowing Bruce finally had someone he could trust besides himself.

At first, Bruce thought of you as a friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to have a good time with and relax. But as weeks turned to months, he found himself developing stronger feelings. It wasn’t about “having fun” and relaxing anymore, it was now about seeing you, making sure you were alright, listening to your every thought and feelings.

He thought it was normal, though. After all, aren’t friends supposed to care for each other and be eager to spend time together? After all, it had been a while since he had friends. At least ones that spoke to him on the regular, that were there for him. This whole thing was new to him. So, he kept these feelings hidden, convinced they were nothing but the norm, enjoying whatever silly activities you engaged in.

You two had, after all, your own little rituals.

You loved reading – always had, and believed to continue doing so until you were dead and buried. And despite not having a lot of time to do so, Bruce did too. So, it wasn’t long before you two created your own little book club along with Alfred.

You would prepare a batch of cookies, Alfred would make some tea, and Bruce would wait by the fireplace in the living room, since there was really nothing he could contribute with but his insight on the books you were reading.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his tea, and placing the mug on the coffee table by his feet.

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said – it was a terrible book.”

“I think you’re the first person ever to call The Great Gatsby a ‘terrible book’.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alfred, who was intent on hearing whatever you were going to say next. He too was quite curious, but he had an inkling he knew where you were going with this.

You just shrugged your shoulders and brought your legs to your chair, sitting on top of them. You felt at home in Wayne Manor. Bruce had told you to make yourself comfortable after the third time you visited, and you wasted no time in doing so.

“Jay Gatsby is one pretentious motherfucker,” you say.

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

“Sorry – I meant; Jay Gatsby is one pretentious douchebag.” You bowed your head towards Alfred and the butler nodded in acknowledgment.

“Wait – why?”

“Are you kidding me?” All you could do was scoff. “Gatsby is an obsessive narcissist, an egocentric pathological liar who cares about no one else other than himself, and much probably, a psychopath.”

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

“And the way he objectifies Daisy throughout the whole book – he doesn’t even love her! He loves the idea of her. He’s a jerk.”

Bruce couldn’t even interrupt you, because you were on a spree, gesticulating with your arms and talking fast.

“But let’s be honest here, it’s not like she loves him either.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Of course not! She’s a shallow, materialistic, spoiled brat and I can’t stand her!” You finished your little speech by taking a bite out of a cookie and crossing your arms.

“Huh. Right.” Bruce said, grabbing his copy of the book. “Well, I thought it was a great book. And I don’t think Gatsby is any of the things you said.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really. I think he is a misunderstood soul.”

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

“Yes, but you aren’t, and I would like to keep this household clean, for dear Master and Missus Wayne’s sake.” He replied casually, giving you that look you’d learn to interpret as “do not test me you silly little baker, for I am British and have the high ground”, and to which you just stuck your tongue out.

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

“And, well, I think he truly did love Daisy.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, no, and here’s why, he did everything for her.”

“Name one thing.”

“Well, he waited five whole years for her. I think that’s rather romantic. He went great lengths to impress Daisy and win her love. The parties, the money, his whole persona – it wasn’t him, but he did it all for Daisy.” Bruce explained calmly. Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows and just sipped from his teacup quietly.

“Bruce, the whole thing was a circus.” You reached in front of you to grab another cookie and took a bite out of it, missing the way your friend’s gaze dropped to your lips and then returned to your eyes in just a millisecond. “He was just showing off.”

“Perhaps,” Bruce said, “But perhaps he was just trying to be someone worthy of her. I’m sure love can make people do crazy things.” He wasn’t one to talk. It’s not like he knew what “love” was. He’d crushed on Rachel as kids, but that’s all it was, a silly childhood crush.

Perhaps the love he had for his city could count. He did do crazy things for it. Dressing up as a bat was an example.

You nodded your head a few times, pondering his answer.

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t think so. If he loved her, he should’ve just said it. There was no need for all the show.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows once again. A very you-ish reply. He was enjoying this immensely.

Bruce replayed her words in his head. He should’ve said it. Surely, it wasn’t that easy. Jay Gatsby wasn’t your average man. He was a mystery. He had secrets and things he needed to hide. It wasn’t as easy as just walking up to Daisy and telling her “I love you”. It wasn’t that simple. “You think so?” he asked.

“Well, yeah! Absolutely – I mean, why complicate things?” you replied. “He should’ve just dropped the luxuries, the parties, he should’ve just stopped with all of the eccentric millionaire thing, looked her in the eyes and say, ‘I love you’. Simple.”

"Absolutely! I mean, why complicate things? Just look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I love you.’ Simple.”

“Simple, huh?”

You nodded, taking another sip from your tea – you drank it sickeningly sweet, with lots of honey, while he preferred one or two spoons of sugar.

“Yeah. Simple. No need for the fancy parties, and mysterious acts. Just be genuine.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he mumbled. “But sometimes people have reasons for not saying what’s in their hearts. Sometimes they must hide their feelings.” It was true. You didn’t know he was Batman – you couldn’t. He needed to keep you safe. All you knew was that he worked a lot, plenty of times exhausting himself and arriving home super late. It was for the best.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully, which earned him a curious look from the both of you.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Please, do continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go on.

You gave him a weird look but simply turned to face Bruce once again.

“Reasons? Like what?”

Bruce couldn’t look you in the eye now. He shrugged and got suddenly very interested by the coffee table by his feet.

“Fear, maybe. Fear of what might happen if they open up. Fear of losing someone precious.”

You hummed, “Well, in my book, it’s always better to be honest and take the risk. Life’s too short for illusions. If Gatsby had just said it, maybe things would’ve been different. Who knows? But I still think he was one pompous son of a bitch.” You leaned back in your chair with a smug grin and finished the rest of your tea.

Alfred just excused himself and made his way towards the kitchen.

You certainly did bring some life into this once empty house.

You were lazing around in a Sunday afternoon, mindlessly scrolling your phone as a rerun of a show you liked played on TV. Even after a few years, it could still get some laughs out of you, and you’d look at the screen and smile.

All of a sudden, the couch dipped next to you.

Bruce had jumped over it, and landed next to you, sitting down comfortably, as if parkouring around Wayne Manor was something he did on the regular.

“Shit! Holy – Bruce!” You nearly jumped out of your seat, clutching your chest. Sometimes you wondered if Bruce wasn’t some sort of ninja. Being able to hide himself and be so silent wasn’t normal, and at times, to be frank, a little bit creepy.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and turned to you.

“Friday night, charity gala, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if he’d simply asked you what the weather was like outside.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the Carringtons are throwing a big party this Friday. It’s supposed to be this big fundraiser. The profits will go for new police facilities. As if those corrupt idiots needed them…” He sighed. “And clearly, Bruce Wayne must attend. And, as expected, he has to bring someone.”

You whined and threw your head back in frustration. You’d been to a couple of galas with Bruce. Most of them were dreadfully boring, filled with fake people whose only purpose there was to flaunt their money and pretend to care about whatever topics seemed most controversial. You hated them. The fake smiles, the gross men leering on you, the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Bruce (not that you minded. After all, you two were just friends. It just made you uncomfortable that they were so forward about his advances. Clearly, he wasn’t alone. He had you. Could they not see it? But of course, you two were just friends. Which meant you weren’t jealous. You just felt sorry for them, and extremely uncomfortable whenever they looked at, spoke to, or touched him. Duh.)

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

“I’m busy. Sorry Bruce, I have plans.” What a liar.

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

“Alfred checked your schedule – you’re free for the next two weeks.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back at the kitchen, where Alfred innocently prepared a few sandwiches.

“Damn him! I swear that man must’ve been a British spy!” you muttered, shaking your head.

“So, are you coming with me?” Bruce pressed on.

“I can’t – I have to return some videotapes.” You replied smugly.

Bruce gave you a dry laugh and threw a pillow in your direction, which you failed to dodge.

“Very funny. I’m serious – I can’t go by myself. Look, I know what this is going to sound like, but the Carringtons are only doing this to show off. They don’t care about the police; they want to show Gotham just how rich their grandfather’s money has made them. They’ve been around for years and never once donated – why now?”

“Just because you have to go, doesn’t mean that I have!” you too threw a pillow at him, but as always, his reflexes were on point, and he managed to catch it mid-air.

“Look, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

Bruce gave you a blank stare – that excuse did not stick anymore, not after he’d bought you a different dress for each party he had taken you to (“Think of it as a thank you gift”, he said).

“Just take a model. Or an actress. Or some other celebrity. You know me Bruce, I don’t belong with those people. They’re not my crowd.” You grabbed another pillow and prepared to throw it at him.

“I can’t stand another night of pretending to spend my free time buying hotels and yachts.” Bruce said your name softly and you let your guard down, lowering your arm. “It’s not me, and you know it.” You looked into those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to have soften – those eyes of his always made you melt, and you often found yourself saying yes to his every whim.

You pondered your choices.

He could take a model or an actress. The headlines would love speculating who the hell was Bruce Wayne messing around with this time. He’d have to pretend to be someone he was not for a whole evening – though you didn’t know why; only that, for some reason, he had a reputation to upkeep – and the next morning you’d wake up and seethe as you watched the shots paparazzi got of your best friend and some random floozy slobbering on top of him.

Or, you could go with him. It’d be a pain in the ass to pretend to like all of those people and to interact with those phony idiots who thought money was worth anything and would try their best to snake their ways in Bruce’s close circle. But you’d spend a nice evening with your friend, wear a pretty dress, drink some expensive champagne and be able to laugh at everyone else with him. There were worse fates than that, you were sure.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll come with you.”

Bruce did a small “yes” gesture with his arm, and then grabbed a nearby pillow. “Now, where were we?”

“Oh – OH don’t you dare, Bruce Wayne!” You lifted your arm once again, but before you could throw the pillow in his direction, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. You fell on top of his body, hands on either side of his head as they bore the weight of your body. Your face was inches away from his, and all you could do was stare into those brown eyes that had you so weak.

You blinked repeatedly, before quickly getting up. Your cheeks were flaring up and you grabbed your phone, standing up from the couch.

Bruce, on his end, was speechless. He watched as you stood up, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I – I should go. I need to… yeah, I gotta – I gotta do something. I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, and within seconds, you were out the door.

When you were gone, Alfred left the kitchen and walked towards the couch where Bruce was sitting, still silently staring at the wall.

“Is everything alright, Master Wayne?” he asked, although he didn’t really need an answer. He knew exactly what was going on with him. After all, he’d raised this boy like his own son for years.

“Yes,” Bruce cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am. Everything’s fine. How about those sandwiches you were making?” He tried changing the topic, but it was too late.

As Alfred walked back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think that he should probably schedule an optometrist appointment for his master. After all, one can’t help but be concerned when such a smart, capable man was so blind to matters of the heart. Almost as blind as a bat, one could say. He’d keep this joke for later. Bruce would hate it. Even better.

Funnily enough, Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought Bruce was blind to his feelings.

In fact, it seemed like everyone could see how smitten the Wayne billionaire was with you.

When you two went out, he would look at you with this sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You walked into the party, arm linked with his, and it was as if the whole world stopped to look at you two.

Everyone knew about your existence – it wasn’t the first time you accompanied Bruce to parties – Bruce Wayne and his close friend. Friend. Yeah, sure. If the glances he stole were any indication, the Wayne heir was nothing but completely enamoured with you. In fact, it was incredible how much he’d changed. His whole attitude changed when he was accompanied by you. No longer was he the reckless billionaire who drank too much and humiliated himself, but the elegant man who liked to engage in conversations (as long as the topics were interesting) and had a heart of gold.

Yes, everyone seemed to spot the change in demeanour whenever you two were together.

“Bruce!” A voice could be heard from the distance, and Rachel Dawes made her way towards the both of you. She smiled and spoke your name once she noticed you were the one accompanying her childhood friend, before hugging you. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you here!”

You hugged her back and gave her a genuine smile. You’d met Rachel before more than a few times – she was a lovely young woman with a great sense of justice, and you were sure she was going to do great things for Gotham’s wellbeing. You also enjoyed her company greatly, since she had once told you all of the embarrassing stories about Bruce’s childhood. “I had no idea you were going to be here!”

“Yeah, well,” she looked around and smiled, seemingly looking for someone. “I was just as surprised as you were.”

Then, a very familiar face emerged from the crowd, calling out “Rachel!” and walking to her side.

“There you were – you left so abruptly; I thought something was wrong.” The man said, before turning to look at you and Bruce. You took him in. Dirty blond hair and a familiar cleft chin. You furrowed your eyebrows, before it finally clicked in.

“You’re Harvey Dent – I’ve seen you on TV before,” you said, and he smiled in acknowledgement.

“That would be me, yes.” He put forward his hand, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

Harvey then turned to look at Bruce, extending his hand to him.

“And you must be Bruce Wayne. Rachel talks about you a lot.”

Bruce shook it and nodded.

“Hopefully she hasn’t disclosed everything about me, otherwise I’d be ruined.”

The two men chuckled, and you took that opportunity to look at Rachel. You looked from her to Harvey, opened your mouth and wiggled your eyebrows, earning a laugh from her. Rachel moved to your side as Bruce and Harvey spoke about Gotham and took your arm.

“Well, well, Miss Dawes. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” you asked in a hushed tone, still wiggling your eyebrows up and down. “How’d you meet?”

“At work. Harvey is running for district attorney. One thing led to another, and…” she trailed off, and you nudged her torso with your arm.

“And now you’re shagging future attorney Harvey Dent. Look at you go!”

Rachel covered her mouth with her hands and supressed a scoff.

“You’re unbelievable, and I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth ever! It’s just a casual thing, we’ve only gone on a few dates. Besides, you’re the one attending a charity gala with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. I think every woman in this room has you on a death list.”

“Pftt,” you waved your hand dismissively, “You know we’re just friends. Nothing for those women to be jealous about.”

“Ah, I see. You’re just friends.” Rachel nodded, feigning seriousness in her voice.

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

“That face you always do,” you motioned towards her face, nearly pouting. “We are! And that’s the end of the discussion! I don’t even know why we’re talking about my non-existent relationship with Bruce when you’re probably going to be First Lady someday – this is huge.”

Rachel swatted you with her purse and returned to Harvey’s side before giving you a cheeky smile – it felt nice to have a girl friend you could talk to in these scenarios. Usually, it was just you and Bruce, which, however pleasant, wasn’t the same thing as having a girl in there. You were happy to catch her off work – Rachel seemed like a different person at the office. While there, she maintained a strong and serious attitude, you were happy to see her when she had no work business to worry about and could simply be a girl with you.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much of your time, Mr. Wayne,” Harvey said, shaking Bruce’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet Rachel’s oldest friend.” He then turned to you, “And a pleasure to meet you too, Miss.” “Likewise,” you replied.

Bruce nodded.

“Of course. I’ll be sure to send you a nice bottle of Chardonnay when you’re elected district attorney,” he said in his best careless billionaire voice, and nodded at Rachel before the two walked away. “Who would’ve thought,” he muttered to you, beckoning a butler who was carrying a tray of champagne glasses close to him.

“Well, I think they’re lovely together,” you smiled and grabbed a glass, smiling once the liquid hit your lips. Champagne was always welcome.

“Well, you think everyone looks lovely together. You’re a sap.” You laugh at Bruce’s comment and hold onto his arm. He brings you close, absentmindedly, and the two of you walk around the party, occasionally being stopped by the average donor.

After eating some entrees and mingling with the guests, soft music started to play and ring throughout the room. You looked up, pleasantly surprised, and tugged at Bruce’s arm.

“Come on,”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – he was growing tired of pretending to share the same interests as these vile people. He wanted a respite from keeping the charade up, so he gladly took your hand and led you to the middle of what had become the dancefloor. You two weren’t the only ones in there, a couple more pairs having decided to dance.

Bruce gently held your waist and pulled you close to him, his other hand coming to lift yours.

“Thank you,” he spoke, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes glued onto the two of you.

“I could see you were about to actually punch that man right in the face,” you chuckled, looking at the person in question. He was a middle-aged man who could probably stand to lose a few pounds for the sake of his health, who was trying to talk Bruce into introducing him a couple of models. You just had to come to the rescue, because Bruce actually looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Thankfully, he was a good actor and simply promised the man he would surely hook him up with the woman of his dreams.

“I think it goes without saying I’m not introducing jack shit to him. I’m pretty sure he’s assaulted his female employers. I should have someone investigate it.”

“My, my. Bruce Wayne, ever the White Knight.” You smiled, and you could swear that for some minutes, the entire world faded away as the soft melodies of Camille Saint-Saëns filled the air.

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

The two of you kept dancing. You found looking into his eyes extremely hard, so you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at behind his shoulder continuously.

“I still haven’t told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Bruce finally broke the silence between you two, and you returned his gaze. He’d bought you a floor-length black John Galliano gown with delicate lace trim and a bias cut, and you had actually screamed into your pillow once you saw it – it was far too pretty.

“Thank you,” you reply, brushing some invisible dust from his shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Bruce lowered his voice and looked you in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

The two of you stopped dancing for a few moments, and you were unable to look away from his almost magnetic gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and you gripped his shoulder tighter, to make sure you were real, and he was real, and this whole ordeal was real.

He was just about to speak again, when you were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.

“Mr. Wayne! Oh, what a pleasure to have you here!”

You quickly pulled away from him as Catherine Carrington, a woman in her mid-40s with long, blonde hair approached the both of you and placed two loud kisses on either side of his cheeks. You looked away, trying to figure out how to properly breathe again, and fanned yourself with your hands.

Harrold Carrington, Catherine’s husband walked to her side and shook Bruce’s hand, far too interested in talking to you. You stifled a laugh – whoever was in charge of his wig had tone a terrible job, because it was clear as day his hairline was receding, and the hair he had on was fake.

“Ah, you must be the mysterious friend everyone has been talking about. We’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t we Miss? But I don’t think we’ve properly met – I’m Harrold Carrington. And may I say, you look splendid this evening.”

None of the Carringtons seemed interested in their spouses. Catherine was fawning over Bruce, and Harrold’s eyes lingered far too long on your exposed collarbone and cleavage. So much so, that you turned from him uncomfortably. Bruce was quick to notice your discomfort, and pulled you next to him once again, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes on the lady’s face, as opposed to her chest, Mr. Carrington,” he said with a smile that you could only identify as fake, and that smug voice he used when he was feeling particularly cocky.

All of the colour drained from Harrold’s face, and he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence – which he failed miserably. “I – I, well – I wasn’t – I would never! I – I was just –“

Bruce faced Catherine once again and gave her another fake smile.

“Lovely party Mrs. Carrington. Very nice of you to raise money for the Gotham Police Department. Very charitable, indeed. And the champagne is just splendid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard someone was eating caviar, and it’s not a real party without it, now is it?”

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah – he was just creepy. Shit, I hate galas.”

“Tell me about it,” Bruce sighed, before shaking his head. “How long have we been here for?”

“About two hours.”

“How about we ditch at three? I think it’d be a crime to abandon this party now. Especially when you look this dazzling.”

He was giving you that look once again, the one you couldn’t quite decipher, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Bruce, on the other hand, was freaking out. You looked lovely, even more so than usual. He’d been dancing with you, and all was perfect, and then that hag Catherine had to go and ruin everything.

Was it too much to ask for a quiet dance with his friend?

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

No, you weren’t his friend. At least not anymore.

He thought about your dance moments earlier. How you’d held onto him, far too shy to look him in the eye, lips slightly parted and eyes sparkly. He thought of how easily you leaned into his touch and how he liked having you by his side.

He thought of how much he enjoyed spending time with you, how much he laughed in your presence, how free he felt when he was with you. He could be himself, something that he felt he couldn’t be anywhere else. You were his safe haven. You were everything.

It was that night Bruce Wayne realised he was in love with you.

One time the both of you went out to do some Christmas shopping.

(“In November?” Bruce had asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Christmas sales have already started! And I bet everyone’s going to start super soon, so we need to get to it!” Was your reply. Bruce could only sigh and agree, like he always did when it came to you.)

Besides, it was the first Christmas you’d be able to spend together after 2 years of friendship. The last two had Bruce way too busy with his company (at least that’s what he told you. In reality, he had been tracking down a few criminals who’d been wreaking havoc days before.

The main point was: after two years of being friends, you would finally get to spend Christmas together. It’s not that you’d suffered those Christmases without him; you had friends and family. But you wanted to spend the holidays with who you now considered to be your closest friend.

Bruce, however, wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he was in love with. He hadn’t found the courage to tell you – not yet. He was afraid of ruining things, of hurting you. So he kept silent, relishing in the friendship the both of you had.

Approaching the mall, you had a small list in your hand, filled with names of everyone you wanted to buy a gift for. He had around five people in mind, so he did not need all those preparations.

Once you were in the crowded mall, Bruce would hold you close to him, shielding you from everyone who might bump into you. His hand would respectfully be in the small of your back, and if he needed you to get out of someone’s way (people who refused to look up from their phones were the worst), he would slide it to your waist and gently pull you towards him.

You’d stopped at a beauty store, wanting to buy a new skin care package for your closest friend at work – heavens knew how badly you needed her to keep you sane – so you’d asked Bruce for his opinion on a myriad of perfumes.

“See, I like this one, but I think the smell is a bit too strong,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the hand lotion’s sample on your hand and applying it there. “Here,” you reached your hand to him, and nearly all the air was sucked out of your lungs when Bruce carefully reached for it, holding your pulse in his and bringing it to his face. His lips nearly brushed against your skin as he took the smell of the lotion in, and at least a dozen of women who were shopping nearby swooned.

Bruce let go of your hand just as gently and you blinked a few times, trying to wake up from your little trance.

“It is a bit strong, yeah. You mentioned she’s got a sensitive nose, so maybe something less floral?”

You were quick to nod and walk away, afraid he’d notice the way your cheeks heat up and your pupils dilated.

Once you turned away from him, focusing on the other hand lotions, he sighed, still feeling a buzzing sensation in his hand. It was as if he could still feel your skin against his, and he had to shake his head to return to the task at hand. Control yourself.

At a clothing store, you held up different sweatshirts next to him, asking for his opinion on a gift to your father. He gave you his earnest opinion, and insisted on carrying all your bags once you were done.

“Bruce – come on, I can carry them. I’m not a baby,” you’d told him, sighing in exasperation.

“Just allow me. You’re still picking up things left and right, it’s better if I carry these for you.”

You two checked out a jewellery shop – you’d been saving up to buy your mom a pair of earrings, and while you busied yourself looking through rows and rows of pairs, looking for the one you had your eyes on, Bruce quickly excused himself, and turned to a shop helper.

Approaching the counter, he placed the delicate pair of pearl earrings next to the cashier, glancing around just to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.

“Would you like these to be gift wrapped?” The cashier asked.

“Yes please.”

Bruce continued glancing around. You too were speaking to a shop helper, pointing to the delicate pair of gold earrings you wanted to get.

“A gift for a special someone?” The cashier asked once again with a polite smile. Bruce wasn’t dumb. If he were anyone else, this would be a regular, standard question asked by shop clerks to keep a friendly conversation going. But he’s not just anyone else. He’d noticed the way the woman had glanced him up and down with a wishful expression and could bet all his money that if he were to reveal more than necessary, then she would turn to any gossip magazine as soon as he was out the door and spill whatever nonsense she thought it was going on.

He gave her a curt nod, paid for the earrings (now neatly placed inside of a box and wrapped with a pretty red ribbon), and returned to your side, hiding the box inside his jacket’s pocket.

“Did you find them?” he asked once he got to your side, and if it were anyone else, you would’ve jumped, but by now you were used to Bruce. You seemed to lean into his side and smiled, looking at the pair of hoops the shop helper brought to the counter.

“Yeah – she’s gonna love them! I was super scared they’d be sold out Bruce, I’ve been working my ass off to get these. I’m so proud of myself,” your smile was contagious, and Bruce found himself bringing you closer to him by the waist and giving you one of his super rare smiles. Once again, every woman within a five-mile radio sighed, basically eating him up with their eyes. It was no secret Bruce Wayne was a handsome man – not to mention Gotham’s most eligible bachelor – but to see him act so affectionate in public was a completely different thing, and it was clear more than woman had gotten jealous just looking at you.

(Their boyfriends were not happy with the way said women ogled Bruce up and down.)

“I’m proud of you too.” Bruce replied. It was true. You were a hardworking woman, and he beamed with pride at your accomplishments.

Of course he didn’t tell you he bribed the store to keep the earrings stored until you came along to buy them – he wasn’t about to let someone snatch the thing you’d been working so hard to get – but it didn’t matter. You’d earned it.

You grinned at him and reluctantly broke free from his hold.

“I’m gonna go pay for these, meet me outside?”

He nodded and walked outside of the store, hand coming to pat the box inside of his pocket. They’d look incredible with his mother’s pearl necklace, that’s for sure.

He carried your things to the limo, and upon arriving to the Manor, he distracted you with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows, before handing Alfred the little white box and telling him to keep it a secret. The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you discussing presents, drinking your hot chocolate, and watching some Christmas movies as the wood in the fireplaced cracked piece by piece, enveloping you both in a cozy warmth.

Later that month, the two of you were sitting at an expensive café, having a few treats, and talking about your Christmas shopping. Although the place was very fancy and its prices had shocked you, so had the quality of their food.

“This is garbage,” you said, eyeing the cupcake on your plate. “Holy shit, who baked these? It feels like I’m chewing on a brick!”

“Yours are much better, yes,” Bruce agreed, taking his own cupcake, and looking at it carefully. “And that’s this awful taste?”

“I think she added lemon juice, but it doesn’t work in this recipe, not at all. You’ll see, it’ll basically nullify the sweetness of it, and the whole thing is just gonna taste like one sour cupcake. Gosh, people pay their rent’s worth of money for these?”

Bruce could listen to you talk for hours on end. The way your eyes lit up when you found a topic you were interested in, and how genuinely passionate you were about your hobbies. Your genuineness was something he praised and found himself looking for more and more. In fact, one of the reasons he’d taken you to this specific café was because he knew the cupcakes sucked – he’d eaten there before. He just wanted to hear you talk about them.

An old woman approached your table, wearing a Santa Claus had on top of her head, and a few Christmas related pins on her waitress apron.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, no thank you, we’re fine.” You replied, returning it «.

“I see. Well, I’d just like to say, it’s a real gift to see such precious young love.” The woman gestured at the both of you, and your cheeks flared up. “This city can be so dark and gloomy sometimes; it warms my heart to know that love still prevails on top of all. You two are such a lovely couple.”

“We’re –“ you coughed, trying to clear your throat. “We’re not – we’re not a couple.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, we’re just – we’re just friends!” you were quick to correct her and refused to meet Bruce in the eye.

Oh, right. Bruce. He was staring at the old woman, completely lost in thought. This woman thought you two were a couple. Did you look like it? And why had you shut her down so quickly? Did you hate the idea that much? Would it be so terrible if the two of you were to date?

“Oh, I am so sorry then, my apologies!” the waitress was quick to apologise. “It’s just – you two look rather lovely together. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She walked away and you covered your cheeks with your hands, trying to mask the sudden blush that had overcome you.

Bruce, on his end, was still staring at where the woman had been. Did you two look like a couple that much? He wouldn’t mind it. No, not really, he wouldn’t mind being a couple with you. He could finally drop that stupid playboy persona, be one step closer to his real self. He could protect you and always keep you safe and closer to him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and be greeted with that dazzling smile of yours. Would you ask him for five more minutes in bed? Act all grumpy until you had your morning coffee? Would you drag him out of his bedroom to start the day and be productive?

“Shall we go?” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your now empty mug on top of your plate. “It’s gonna get dark soon, and I wanted to see the Christmas lights.” Your voice was lower, still tinted with some nervousness. Bruce snapped out of it and nodded, walking towards the counter to pay the bill.

While he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, to wake yourself up and hopefully cool down.

Once you were ready, you walked out of the café, strolling the streets of Gotham.

Sometimes it surprised you how pretty your city could be. Sure, there was chaos and corruption, and most of the times it was a fucking shithole, but it was still home, and the tall buildings and bright lights could still take your breath away.

You and Bruce walked side by side. You were still far too nervous to look at him, so you kept your distance. Bruce, respectful as ever, remained by your side, refusing to touch you until you gave him permission. As you were looking at the prettily decorated shop windows and houses, he could see the way your body shivered and trembled.

That’s what you got for refusing to bring a jacket because, “your outfit looked far too pretty to be hidden behind a coat”.

“Cold?” he asked.

“N-no. Not at all. I’m fine. I told you; these tights are really warm.” Your voice was trembling, and your teeth were close to chattering. A part of Bruce wanted to see you fight for your case just a bit longer, while the other just longed to envelop you in his arms and keep the cold away.

“Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure the tips of your fingers are turning blue.” He said with a smug expression.

“No, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding eagerly. “I told you; I wouldn’t be cold. I’m not.”

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

After a few minutes, it was far too obvious you were freezing. Your body was trembling, your teeth were chattering, and he was sure he could see your lips becoming a dark shade of purple.

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to him in confusion.

“Preventing you from catching pneumonia,” he replied, handing it to you.

“N-no, T-that’s not n-necessary, Bruce. I’m fine. I’m n-not cold. I’m f-fine! See? Just p-peachy.”

Bruce had faced criminals and villains and corrupt cops, and they’d all lied to him at one point or another. None was as bad as you.

He gave you one of his “I told you so” looks, and you nearly pouted, spreading your arms as he helped you put the jacket on. Almost instantly, you felt warmth spread through your body and sighed in relief. Bruce also removed his scarf, and carefully wrapped around your neck, hands lingering on your face for longer than necessary when he brushed a few strands away from it.

“Better?” he murmured.

You looked at him through your lashes. He was close. Very close. So close, that you could hear your heartbeat hammering on your chest. You gave him a soft “mhm” and he returned to your side, keeping a respectful distance from you.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked him. It made you feel terrible – it was freezing in Gotham, and you’d taken his only sources of comfort.

“I’m fine – believe me. I’d much rather have you not freezing on me.” He replied.

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

Suddenly, while crossing the street, some careless motorbike showed up out of nowhere. You shrieked in surprise, and froze in your place, closing your eyes in fear. A pair of strong arms pulled you away, and you collided with a strong figure. Bruce was holding you close, cursing the driver under his breath. Once you looked up to you look at him, he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking all over your face to make sure you were unharmed.

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

“I know. It’s like you can’t trust anyone with a license these days.” He muttered. It hurt to part from you. It was like you were made to stand next to him, body slotting perfectly with his. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, giving you space, but was surprised when you held onto his arm, like you usually do.

You looked at him, silently asking for permission, which he granted. You scooted closer to him, and he smiled.

The two of you continued walking through the streets of Gotham, making comments on the architecture, the lighting, the people. There were small stalls selling all sorts of trinkets and goods, a sort of small Christmas market, and you smiled as you saw kids running around with balloons or cups of hot chocolate. It was dark and gloomy, but once again, Gotham could be so very beautiful.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady?” An old vendor asked, extending a pretty rose in your direction.

“Oh, no thank you – “ you mumbled, shaking your head, but Bruce was quicker.

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the flower in his hands. He handed the man a bill (and surely a big one at that, because the man’s eyes widened, and he stared at it for quite a while before thanking Bruce profusely.)

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

You weren’t sure if it was from his jacket, or if your whole body had simply decided to set itself on fire. You took the flower and brought it up to your nose, the intoxicating smell of it filling your senses.

“Thank you,” you said, still looking at it. No one had ever bought you flowers.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he repeated the old man’s words, and continued walking with you by his side, but not without hearing the old man say something about how “beautiful it was to see love bringing people together”. You didn’t seem to have heard it, but Bruce did, and he smiled.

It was Christmas Eve, and you were in Wayne Manor, having dinner with Bruce and Alfred (whom he begged to take a seat at the table with the two of you). There was wine and plenty of food, and the three of you had a great time, sharing funny stories and anecdotes and just enjoying each other’s companies.

You had promised your family to visit them the day after and were dead set on spending the Eve with Bruce.

After dinner, you sat near the fireplace, talking about books, movies, and whatever silly topic that came to mind. You, with your legs comfortably spread on the couch, Alfred on the big chair, and Bruce on the floor, by your feet. To him, that was the closest he had to spending Christmas with his family, and wondered if his parents would’ve enjoyed your company. Of course they’d have, he thought, you’re perfect.

After the three of you had played a few games (Alfred had won at charades, his Batman impression making you laugh for five minutes straight), you stood up announcing that, since it was almost midnight, you wanted everyone to open their gifts. It was more about you giving yours away than opening them, really – you were quite proud of the gifts you’d bought and wanted Bruce’s and Alfred’s reactions as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright, alright, me first! Here – Alfred, these are for you!” You handed him about five different packages, and he looked at you with a fond expression in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

“Well, but I did. I need to spoil my swing partner, don’t I?”

He smiled at your antics and slowly opened the packages, one by one. Inside, there were a few woollen sweaters with matching-coloured ties.

“They’re really warm, you know. And it’s real wool – the quality of these is amazing! And you can even wear them without the ties, for a more casual look. What do you think? Do you like them?” you asked eagerly, hoping to get the response you wanted.

“I do, Miss. Thank you. These are lovely.”

You beamed and hugged him tightly. “Promise? There’s a receipt somewhere if you don’t like them – but I just thought they looked so cool and they were so pretty and the fabric is so soft, and – “

“Yes, Miss. I promise. Thank you. These are splendid.”

“Well, since we’re spoiling Alfred, I don’t really want to get left out.” Bruce joked, before reaching for an envelope sitting on top of the Christmas tree (decorated by the both of you on the first of December, thank you very much.) He handed his butler the envelope and sat back, awaiting his reply.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” Alfred said, looking at the contents of the envelope intently.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a few weeks.” Bruce replied smugly. “If anyone deserves a vacation in this house, it’s you.”

When Alfred didn’t reply, Bruce raised an eyebrow, worry starting to pool in his stomach.

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

“A ticket to the Maldives, Master Wayne? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Bruce grinned, nodding. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do indeed, but, if I may express a tiny complaint…”

“Of course, Alfred. You can always speak your mind.”

“You’re a bit of a cheapskate, Master Wayne.”

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

“A cheapskate. I see. And why is that?”

“After all I’ve done for you, three weeks of vacation seems a bit stingy, don’t you think?” Although he was saying this, he had a smile playing in his lips. Clearly none of it was serious.

“It’s not like I can function without you Alfred. Can’t have you enjoying too much time off, now, can we? You might remember just how fantastic life is outside this place and never return. You’ll be here forever. You’ve changed my diapers when I was born, and you’ll change them when I’m old and gray.”

“I knew I should’ve never accepted Thomas Wayne’s job offer back then.” He muttered. But he then turned to Bruce and gave him an earnest smile. “Thank you, sir. This is very thoughtful of you.”

After that, it was his turn to give you your presents. He gave Bruce a (very expensive) bottle of wine, that he expressed “wanted it to be opened on a very special occasion” with a wink – which made Bruce clear his throat and change the subject. You received a burgundy scarf he’d brought from his latest trip to England, from a shop you’ve expressed your admiration for a few times.

“Holy – oh my god! This is incredible, I mean, look at it!” You hugged him tightly and wrapped the scarf around your neck, not caring that it was far too warm inside the Manor for you to require a scarf.

“Well, now, it seems to be getting rather late for me,” he announced, standing up.

“Oh? You don’t wanna stay here until midnight?”

Alfred shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Miss. I’m quite tired. I’ll be retiring for the night.”

“Alright, Alfred. Goodnight.” Bruce said with a curt nod.

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

You’d turned away to investigate your scarf once again, you missed the look Alfred gave his master, which made him sigh and look at you fondly.

“Alright – now it’s my turn! I need to go get your gift, just wait in here!” You were quick to stand up and disappear into the hallway. You’d been gone for a few minutes, so Bruce went after you, wondering if everything was alright. He bumped into you near the grand staircase at the entrance, and you jumped.

“Christ – you need to stop scaring me like that!” you reprimanded him.

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

“Anyway,” you mumbled, presenting him with a small black box. “This is for you. I know it’s not nearly as fancy as the ones you already have but – well, it’s Christmas and it’s the thought that counts, is it not?” There was a certain nervousness in your voice, Bruce could feel it.

He gently took the box from you, and opened it, revealing a fancy looking black Hugo Boss watch. His fingers trailed the screen and the expensive leather strap.

“I know you have a ton of those, but I thought, hey, this one’s special, this one’s from me!” Before you could keep on with your nervous ramblings, Bruce brought you close, hugging you tightly. You smiled against his chest and wrapped your hands around his torso. This was nice. This was comfortable and familiar and nice.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, and you almost melted at the cadence of his voice.

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

When you two pulled away, something caught his eye. Looking up, he realised the both of you were standing right underneath a few branches of mistletoe. You followed his eyes and blushed furiously, your whole body heating up.

Bruce said your name and you turned to look at him, feeling as light as a feather.

“Look, I – there’s something I would like to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce thought of all you’d been through together. Laughter, tears, giggles, and scowls. You’d had great times, reading books, walking around, spending time together, and bad times, when he blew you off, choosing Gotham city at night over you. He thought of all he told you, all he trusted you with.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time with you,” he began.

“I enjoy spending time with you too.” You inched closer to him, hands still on his chest.

“You’re amazing, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. You see through my charade. I can be myself when I’m around you.”

He thought back on the charity gala, on you wearing that lovely black dress, dancing with him. He thought of holding your hand and pulling you close to him to keep you safe. He thought of your sparkly eyes and delicate lips, and how much he could stare into the former and how badly he wanted to kiss the later.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about how badly he wanted to always be with you. How much he’d love to wake up next to you, feel your skin against his, be able to shout from the rooftops that you’re his and his alone. He thought about dropping to one knee and seeing you walking down an aisle wearing the prettiest of white dresses. He saw a lifetime with you, side by side.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

How he’d have to cancel date after date after date, prioritising the black suit over your relationship. He thought of you getting worried sick when he got home late, frowning as you looked at his scars and bruises. He could see it vividly, how you’d cry and beg him not to leave you, to choose you over the city for once in his life, and how he’d leave you to cry all of your tears as he put the cowl on.

“Is…”

“Is…?” You pressed further, eyes dropping to his lips.

He saw argument after argument, saw you screaming at him, accusing him of not loving you. He saw nights spent in the couch, because you were far too angry to let him in your bed. He saw your sad eyes welling up with tears in the middle of romantic dates after he’d told you he had to go because the bat signal was shining in the night sky. He thought about someone finding his identity and going after you first and foremost. He saw you tied up in some random chair, mouth gagged and tears running down your streak as some criminal tortured you to get to him.

He saw your lifeless body inside a coffin, skin devoid of colour, eyes closed, to never open again, and how he’d spend the rest of his life hating both himself and his mask.

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

“Is… You’re a great friend. Thank you.” He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner and walked away, leaving you wide eyed and speechless under the mistletoe.

Later, he’d gift you the first edition of your favourite classic novel and wish you goodnight with a polite nod of his head, going up to his bedroom.

Before he went to sleep, he locked the pearl earrings and his mother’s necklace inside his drawer.

Things were awkward between you two. Your friendship with Bruce was still there, but he was sort of distant. Your weekly book club meetings still happened, and he still dropped by your café to drink coffee and try new cupcake recipes, but everything seemed to have changed after Christmas Eve.

So, you tried to move on with your life.

A few weeks after Christmas, your bakery started to work with a new supplier, and you quickly befriended the delivery guy, Tom. While you started to look forward to his visits more and more, it still did not feel the same as when you were with Bruce, and you felt guilty for hanging out with him.

One day, Bruce came in for his regular cup of coffee and a cupcake and found you smiling and giggling at a guy at the counter. His first reaction was to punch the guy to next Sunday, but thankfully he calmed down and approached you with a polite smile on his face.

“Hey there,” he greeted you, not sparing Tom a single glance.

“Oh! Hey Bruce – this is Tom. He’s the delivery guy from the new supplier.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realised the Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him and tried his best to shake his hand nonchalantly.

“I’ll be right with you,” you told him, and continued your conversation with Tom.

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

And why were you smiling so much? What the fuck did he have that Bruce didn’t?

Most likely, it was what Bruce didn’t have that make a difference – a mask, a secret identity, a promise made to Gotham.

After you were done chatting with the delivery guy, you placed a cupcake and a cup of coffee in front of Bruce, but instead of sitting down with him, you returned to the counter and resumed your conversation.

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

On Christmas day, after you’d left, Alfred had asked what happened.

Bruce told him everything. How he couldn’t be with you because of Batman, how he couldn’t risk your safety and life, how he pushed you away.

Alfred lectured him, telling his master that his mask was going to be the end of him, but Bruce refused to listen and went to the batcave to busy himself and get his mind off you.

As he looked at you now, radiant and smiling at someone else, he realised that he might’ve made a big, big mistake.

It wasn’t long until you two started dating. It was casual, nothing too serious, but Bruce still seethed on the inside. He found himself staring at you for longer, hands lingering on yours whenever he touched you, and his heart ached more and more whenever he saw you with Tom.

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

Because the truth was, you weren’t doing as well as Bruce thought you were. Tom was a nice man, yeah, but there was something off about the whole thing. He was good looking, yes, and very kind. He listened to you and made you, his priority. He was a dream. But there was just one problem, he wasn’t Bruce.

When you two went out, you often found yourself wishing it was Bruce’s arms wrapped around you. When you two went shopping and you decided to go try on a few hand lotions, Tom simply bent over to sniff your hand, and you were brought back to that time last November when Bruce held you with such gentleness, you nearly melted.

Tom always reminded you to bring a jacket, and you did so diligently, unconsciously put off by the idea of wearing his. He’d once given it to you, and it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t wrap it around you securely, he didn’t brush the hair away from your face, he didn’t look at you the way Bruce did. He was an amazing guy, and you liked him.

But that was it.

Still, you kept your relationship going, hoping your feelings would change.

After all, it’s not like you had ever felt anything for Bruce, right?

He was just a good friend.

You enjoyed spending time with him, sure, but that was it.

So, you looked forward to every time the two of you hung out. And your heartbeat quickened every time he was near. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You easily got angry or upset whenever other women looked at him, and even more so when he entertained their advances. You longed to have him hold you in your arms.

But that was all normal, right? It just meant you were great friends.

You mind goes back to Christmas Eve, and the way he hugged you. Standing under that mistletoe, there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him. You remember looking at him and wishing so bad that he would lean down and press his lips against yours. Just friends don’t kiss.

And that’s what you were to him – just a friend. He’d say that himself.

So why were you so heartbroken?

Looking at an empty coffee mug, it suddenly hit you like a train.

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

So there was no need to feel guilty over going out with Tom, right? Even if you didn’t particularly want to kiss him and didn’t want his hands around you when you two went out. Even if you were reluctant to introduce you as “your boyfriend” and had more than once ditched him to stay home and rethink your life decisions.

Even if when the two of you went out on dates, you barely paid any attention to him, focusing on the times you’d sat down with Bruce over a drink and just laughed your asses off and spoke until the crack of dawn.

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

On a lovely April afternoon, you were helping Bruce do some spring cleaning. You were both wearing some casual, old clothes, and helping Alfred to make sure the Manor ended up spotless.

You were currently in charge of the spacious living room, carefully placing picture frames on top of the coffee table so you could clean the fireplace. You looked at the framed memories. Pictures of Bruce as a child, or with his parents. There was one with a young Bruce standing on his father’s shoulders, and another one of him hugging Alfred.

You smiled to yourself. What a cute kid, he was. He seemed so happy.

There were pictures of him with Rachel, knees scraped and clothes dirty from the mud, and some with you. Your gaze lingered on those.

There was one framed selfie with the two of you, faces full of flour and whipped cream. You’d been teaching him how to bake, but the whole ordeal ended up in a small food fight – which he’d won. You chuckled at the memories of trying to teach Mr. “I’m far too rich to cook because I have people to do it for me” how to measure cups of flour, and break eggs. You’d held onto his arms and guided him to make sure he got the measurements just right.

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

The other picture in your hand had been taken at the Carrington gala.

You were wearing your pretty (and extremely expensive) black dress and were smiling at the camera. You were leaning into Bruce’s touch, who was holding you close by the waist. Instead of looking at the camera, he was instead looking at you.

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

How you had loved dancing with him. Being held by him as if you were the only person in the world he cared about. Your fingers traced his figure in the picture, and a tear fell down your cheek, falling on top of the glass.

“Hey, are you done with the fireplace?” You jumped at the voice behind you, and dropped the frame, which fell on the floor and broke into a million little pieces.

“Shit!” you mumbled, quick to crouch and try to pick up each glass shard. Bruce was quicker though, and made his way towards you, pulling you away from the soiled floor.

“No, get away from this, you might get hurt. I’ll call Alfred and – “ he looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t look away from the mess you had made. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry – I broke it.”

“No, no. It’s okay, we’ll just get a new frame.” Bruce assured you, hands resting on your shoulders.

“No – fuck ­– it’s not okay! None of this is okay!” You cried, and he pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’s just a frame. We’ll get a new one. And we’ll clean the floor.”

You cried in his arms for a while, until your sobs subsided into quiet sniffs. Bruce didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, holding you tight. He’d never let you go.

After a while, you broke the silence.

“I – “ sniff, “ – I broke up with Tom,” you mumbled.

Bruce’s expression was one of surprise. Really? Why would you though? You two seemed happy.

“I… I don’t really think I liked him…” you continued; voice muffled by his chest. “I think I was dating him simply because I wanted to forget you…”

What?

He looked at you, but you refused to face him, face pressing harder against his chest.

“I’m such an idiot, Bruce… Everything was fine, and then I went and fell for you… And now our friendship is going to be ruined, and I broke your picture frame…”

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

“I’m sorry, Bruce… I’m so sorry – I promise I’ll fix this. I – I’ll stop loving you and we can go back to being friends, and – “

Bruce used his thumb to lift your face up and looked straight into your eyes. There was nowhere to run. You were trapped, and so was he.

“You love me?” he asked, voice as soft as you’d ever heard it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words out loud, so you opted for nodding.

“But – Tom –“

“Tom was a distraction,” you sniffled, “And I feel terrible about it. But I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to forget about you.”

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, using the same thumb to rub circles on the skin of your cheek. His gaze fell on your lips.

He had two choices. He could let you go once again. He could walk away from you, tell you he didn’t love you back. He could watch as you eventually moved on with your life (this time for real) and protect you from having to choose between Bruce Wayne and Batman.

He could give up the love of his life forever.

Or he could kiss you. He could tell you how he felt. He could trust you with that darker side of him, and you two could figure it out along the way. He could take it easy. He could bare his heart and finally tell you how you felt.

Two sides of him fought against each other, but ultimately, one was stronger.

He bent down and took your lips in his, sliding his hands up to your face to cradle it.

You were surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back with vigour, tears of happiness falling down your cheeks. How you’d wanted this. And now, it was finally happening.

When you two parted for air, Bruce refused to let you go, standing mere inches away from you. His nose nuzzled yours, and he whispered a quiet, “I love you.”

You don’t know wat surprised you more. That he’d say it, or that you said it back.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pressing yourself against him and kissing him once again.

Bruce wrapped his arms around you, attempting to convey all his feelings for you in a simple kiss. All the longing, the love, the desire, the friendship. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say, he poured into that kiss. And you smiled, accepting all his confessions, all his words.

“Well, it was about time, don’t you two think?” Alfred said from across the room.

You jumped and just stared at him, embarrassment overtaking you.

“Yes, I’m talking about you two. Do you know how bothersome it was to see you moping around and sulking because you hadn’t kissed her on Christmas Eve, sir?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I – You wanted to kiss me on Christmas Eve?” you turned to Bruce and gave him a soft smile.

“I did. I really did. I’m so sorry I didn’t.” he replied, before looking at Alfred. “Could you please leave us alone now? I don’t really recall paying you to mind my business.”

“You don’t pay me enough not to, sir.” The butler replied with a cheeky grin and that “I have the high ground, for I am British and old and wise” smug look of his. “I am glad to see the both of you are finally getting along. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the Manor, since no one in this house does it.”

You laughed and faced Bruce once again, cupping his cheek.

“I thought you didn’t even like me. I mean, on Christmas…”

“I’m sorry about Christmas. I really did want to kiss you, it’s just… There are things about me – things you don’t know. And I’m afraid of telling you because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He replied, hand coming up to touch yours.

“You can tell me anything Bruce, you know it. Right?”

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

“I do. And I love you. I really mean it.”

Bruce could hear the smile in your voice when you replied.

“I love you too.”

For once in his life, Bruce Wayne did not feel completely alone. On the next room, he had his trusted butler, who had raised him as his own and acted like a parental figure all these years. And in his arms, he had you. The love of his life, the woman he loved the most in the world.

Holding you close to him, he knew he could trust you, no matter what. He knew you’d accept him, because if anyone would, it was you. And he would cherish that forever.

Later that night, a small white box was taken out of a locked drawer and placed inside of his pocket.

Bruce led you to the same spot you’d been on Christmas Eve, handed you the small box, and after carefully placing the necklace around your neck, finally kissed you.

There was no way he was ever letting go of you.

A/N: And that's it! I hope I was able to do both this trilogy and this request justice, I was really worried about it. I wrote most of it in one sitting, you have no idea, I just kept on writing and writing and writing and when I realised it, it'd gotten kinda long and out of hand.

I also hope this Tom character wasn't useless? I mean, he sorta was, he was just a plot device, but I hope he didn't feel rushed or whatever.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I really do!

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Thirteen

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warnings: Panic attack symptoms. Angst. Everyone’s fucked up. Well, almost everyone.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho, claudiahxrdy , @christianbalefanatic, @librarianafterdark​,  @rosegxoxo​, @lilizia​, @t0uch-starved-h0e​, @barikawho​

Author’s Note: I apologize for the long wait. 

Previous

Never in a million years did Demetria ever think she would wind up in this situation.

She stared at the suitcase, rubbing her chest and silently begging her body to give her a break tonight. She cursed herself for not locking Bruce out of his own room and instead choosing one of the guest rooms. 

A million different scenarios played in her head. All contained the same concerns, Bruce, her mom and brother’s safety, and her own safety. 

He should’ve ran after her and promised her everything was ok even though she knew it wouldn’t be. But he didn’t. He left her and her overwhelmed state to fend for themselves. 

“Care for some company?” 

Demetria turned her head to see Rachel poking her head in, a sympathetic smile on her face. She nodded her head as the brunette closed the door behind her. 

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

Demetria snorted. “That’s a loaded question.”

“I’ve got all night.” She eyed the suitcase. “I don’t know your timeline though.” 

“A moment of weakness. No matter how many times I try, I can’t seem to go through with it.” She glanced up at Rachel. “You’re the sane one in this situation. What should I do?” 

Rachel cracked a tiny smile. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want him to realize he’s not doing anyone any favors by revealing himself, but you and I both know he’s not going to listen either one of us.” 

“He’s stubborn that way.” 

Demetria eyed her engagement ring, twisting it. “Makes me question a lot of things.” 

“Such as?” 

Tears began to pool in Demetria’s eyes as she realized what it was she was about to say. It was the question that plagued her mind throughout their relationship and into their engagement, but had continuously pushed back as far as she could. 

“Why ask me to marry him?” she finally said. 

Rachel folded her arms across her chest. “There’s something you need to know. Long before you came, Bruce wanted him and I to be together.”

Demetria couldn’t move. A calm confession had managed to knock the absolute shit out of her.

“I told him I couldn’t because of Batman, but that when the city no longer needed him that maybe we could,” Rachel continued. 

Demetria blinked and somewhere in the silence that fell between the two women, realized it was her turn to say something and that Rachel had been waiting on baited breath for some sort of reaction. 

So, she started with a deep breath. “Wow, ok. This…explains a lot.” She glanced up. “I’m not mad. Not that I would have any right to be. I just…I’m processing a lot of information right now and I...” 

Maybe this why Bruce went after her. She was Harvey’s best friend and he must’ve assumed something romantic was going on. Maybe that was why he went to lengths to keep their relationship quiet. Maybe he wanted to show-

“Its been over since he met you,” Rachel said. “After that lunch, he asked me about you. I told him you were off limits. I said that if he messed with you, Harvey would ruin him. That’s how he figured out you were at Harvey’s fundraiser. He came for you.” 

She ran her hand through her hair. “How do I not know he wasn’t with me to try to-.” 

“I told him I was in love with Harvey and that nothing was gonna change my mind and that if that was a problem, he needed to deal with it alone without hurting you.” She paused, smiling a bit. “Then he said he was outside your apartment, making sure you were ok. I realized he took time out of his Batman patrol to check in on you. He also said that if I ever hurt you he’d let me kill him myself.” 

A tiny smile played out on Demetria’s lips. “Time to make good on your promise then,” she said, motioning to the door. 

“He loves you so much that losing you scares him an when he’s scared, he pushes away,” Rachel assured. “He knows you can do better. But I know you’re exactly what he needs.” 

Demetria opened her mouth when Rachel cut her off again. “If he goes through with it, I will take care of you and your family’s protection. I know a lot of people who owe me favors. Just promise me you won’t leave him. You’re his one hope for a normal life.” 

Demetria shut her eyes, letting the tears fall. “Ok.” 

Rachel put a gentle hand on Demetria’s forearm. “Go to him, ok?” 

She went to leave when Demetria said, “Rachel?”

The brunette turned to see Demetria smiling at her. “Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around her. “If Harvey hurts you, just know I’ll murder him.” 

Rachel laughed. “I’ll hold to you it.” 

======================================================

After wiping her tears, Demetria made her way to their bedroom where Bruce stood, looking out the window. 

The sound of the door closing behind her grabbed his attention. He turned to her, their eyes meeting for a moment before she made her way to her nightstand. 

Her throat started locking in when she grabbed her medicine and opened the cap. She popped the pill in her mouth and made her way to the bathroom, filling up a crystal glass with water from the sink and then taking a large sip. 

Setting the glass back down, she closed the bathroom door and went back to her nightstand where she pulled out her notebook and a pen. 

“Ok, I need you to tell me what areas need to be cleared out in this apartment so Alfred and I can take care of it,” she said. 

Bruce just stared at her. Demetria exhaled softly. “Babe, we have so many goddamn rooms and only so little time so please, for once tonight, help me out here.” 

“What’re you doing?” he asked. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She looked down at the notebook. “Ok, so guest room four is clear. I know that after-.” 

Bruce then took the notebook and pen from her, throwing it off to the side. He gently grabbed her forearms. “I need you to leave in the morning.” 

“Bruce-.” 

“I don’t want you here while this goes down.” 

She tilted her head, glaring at him. “So now I’m being considered?” 

His face softened. “What?”

“Why didn’t you consider me in this decision?”

“I told you I did.”

“Don’t lie to me. Why didn’t you consider me in this decision?”

“Demetria…”

“You considered what you were gonna do with me. What you didn’t consider is how this would impact me.”

“Rachel knows people who are gonna protect you.”

“Lawyers can protect in a court. What about outside of that?”

She took another step. “What about my mom and my brother? You don’t think people are gonna come after them?”

The silence was deafening.

“There are a lot of people who want to kill you for what you’ve done,” she went on. “A handful of those people think that killing you won’t be enough and that’s when they’ll come after everyone associated with you.”

“You don’t think I didn’t think about that?” Bruce retorted. “You don’t think that haunts me?” 

“I don’t because you won’t talk to me!” she told him. “You just keep pushing me away.”

She wiped the tears away. “You want to make this easy on me? Tell me you don’t love me. Say it and I’ll go. I’ll leave and when I’m asked why, I’ll tell them you said it.” 

Bruce’s blank expression made her wonder if he was contemplating. She pulled her lips back, nodding her head. “Go ahead. Say it. Say it.”

Bruce took a step forward to her. She didn’t move. “Say it, Bruce.” 

He held her face in his hands as she closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself to lose him, her whole heart. The world, the future she had romanticized because of him, ready to leave in flash. 

“I love you, Demetria.” 

[mlmxreader]

My Robin Redbreast | Bane x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Bane: Hiya! Hope alls well 🖤. May I please give you a request to use the following prompts for big tiddy Bane X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "Fuck you!"+"What's got you in such a bad mood?" Thank you very much 🖤! 🐍anon

summary: it's a shame that Bane makes a mistake, but at least things turn out well enough.

tws: swearing, mild violence, threat

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

You were royally pissed off by the time you got to Bane’s hiding place, on a warpath as you clenched your jaw tightly and let your fists ball at your side; you were fucking livid by what he had done, and when you saw him sitting there, no shirt and just a pair of boxers on, you couldn’t help it.

You swung for him, and although he caught it, he looked at you with confusion. Furrowed brows and a slightly tilted head as he held your fists in his hands; it wasn’t like when he fought, he wasn’t holding them tightly, just enough to prevent you from swinging for him again.

“Fuck you!” You spat. “Fucking fuck you, Bane! You bastard!”

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” He asked calmly. He was always so fucking horribly calm.

You squirmed, pushing him away enough until you could swing for him again; but Bane had a lot more expertise and experience than you did, and easily grabbed you by the waist. You flailed and tried to bite him, but his grip was strong enough to keep you still in his embrace.

You were howling incoherently, and he allowed you to; he didn’t mind that you were pissed, that you had swung for him. He trusted that you had a good enough reason for it.

“How fucking dare you?” You panted after a while, out of breath and sweating. “You had me fucking followed?!”

Bane sighed, shaking his head. “No, not you. I trust you with everything I have.”

“Then who the fuck were those guys?!” You hissed. “Because they were your fucking men!”

He grumbled softly, letting his grip falter slightly. “If you must know, I asked them to gather information on you.”

“For fucking what?!” You howled. “You said you trusted me!”

“I do,” he stated calmly, his voice an even and stable growl. “But I wanted to know which drink you buy the most so I could get some of it shipped here.”

“Fuck!” You scoffed, wriggling out of his embrace and looking at him with confusion. “Why didn’t you just fucking ask me?”

Bane shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Admittedly, I wanted it to be a surprise, little one. I figured, when Gotham is in ruins and the corruption and greed is dug out and cut out, we could sit in a garden and share a drink or two.”

“Seriously?” You huffed, raising your brows. “Why didn’t you just ask, Bane? I would’ve told you and been none the wiser.”

“I realise that, now,” he admitted with a nod. “Just as I realise I’m wrong.”

Your shoulders slumped, the tension leaving you as you ran a hand down your face and nodded slowly, your other hand resting on your hip; you trusted Bane to tell you the truth, that he had not had you followed by his henchmen but that he had meant well and wanted to know something simple. You had no reason not to trust him after everything that you had been through together.

Him saving you, you using your status as a nobody to get him intel and information on the goings on in Gotham. Him getting you out of a shit situation and giving you safety, you getting him a link to the Gotham Communist Party so that he could get money to those who needed it when he stole it from those who didn’t. They called you thugs, but you and Bane were more like Robin Hood if anything. The men chasing after you were crooks, violent men with guns who would take their aggression out on those who were already given shit for existing.

You wanted to protect your own, to protect the working class of Gotham - Bane helped you with that. You had no reason to do anything but trust him - he had proved it time and time again that he could be trusted, and that if you were loyal to his cause, he would be loyal to yours in return. He wasn’t good, nor honourable, but he was loyal and he was trustworthy. 

You swallowed thickly, sitting down in his chair as you dared to laugh in disbelief. “Fuck me.”

Bane grumbled, sitting opposite you with his hands clasped between his legs. “You alright?”

“As much as I can be,” you hummed with a shrug. “But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone straight to being violent with you.”

Bane shook his head, humming softly, no. “You don’t need to be sorry. We’re in a difficult situation, you and I - biding our time until we can start the real work.”

You sighed, swallowing thickly. “What if we don’t succeed?”

“We will,” he told you with absolute certainty. “You don’t know when to quit, and I need that on my side. I need you on my side, robin redbreast.”

“You broke me out of my cage,” you pointed out. 

He stood up, tutting as he shook his head. “And yet, all Heaven is still in a rage. And will be, until Gotham and its people are free of corruption and greed. There are thousands of robin redbreasts just like you, my beloved.”

You nodded slowly. “If we can pull this off, I have one requirement.”

“Anything.”

“We get married at last,” you said quietly. “As soon as Gotham’s free. We get married.”

Bane hummed as he raised his brows slightly, the only indication that he was smiling or would have been. “Nothing would make me happier, my robin.”

“So you promise?” You asked.

“I promise,” he agreed. “As soon as the plan is complete, I will arrange for us to get married as quickly as possible. You and I were meant to be, my beloved. I will not let anything stand between us.”

“Not even the Bat?”

“Especially not the Bat,” he growled. “I will break him - mind, body, spirit. Everything. I will clip his wings.”

You nodded, daring to smile at him. “So it’s settled?”

“It is, my robin.”

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Happy Halloween!🎃Here's a treat for all you Jonathan Crane lovers out there:

Face Me...

Dr. Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only smut)

Summary: You work at Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Dr. Crane has been stalking you for a while, but you are leery of him and have been avoiding him outside of professionalism at all costs. One night though as you are leaving work, he tracks you down at your car to see just what you're so afraid of.

Word Count: ~4,426

Warnings: Semi-rough car sex, non-con elements, forced oral (male receiving), dirty talk/language, slight degradation, hair pulling, slapping, stalker behavior, talk of virginity loss, birth control, Dr. Crane being kind of a creep in general

Note: Reader does not know he is actually Scarecrow! And images above are sourced from Pinterest. This story is based only on Cillian Murphy's version in the Batman films and is my interpretation of the character; I don't own him or any part of the franchise, this is just for fun.

Tonight was swathed in misty sheets of rain in the gritty darkness lightly tainted by the glow of streetlights as your car, parked a few blocks from Arkham Asylum, beeped to unlock and you slung your purse over your shoulder, sighing after a long day and wanting to get home to a hot bath and a drink or two. But a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach at a shadow from your peripheral vision made you hesitate and you squinted through the hazy shower that was tapering off to a light drizzle, dampening your hair.

A suited man, height on the shorter side, was stopped no more than twenty feet away and a jarring jolt rushed to your bones when you saw the street light glint off his narrow framed glasses and you paused, hand on the car door. He was utterly silent and you were unnerved by his stiff posture and oddly clenched fists, half thinking to jump in your four-door-sedan and peel out of his presence, but he then walked forward causally, those hands relaxing and slipping into the pockets of his black slacks.

"Good evening," he called out, stepping into view under a streetlight with a smirk and you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms defensively as he slowly approached, that sick smile never sliding off his features that were - you'd have to admit - frankly handsome... No, beautiful was a better term.

"Why are you stalking me, Dr. Crane?" you asked with edginess to your tired voice. It was late and you didn't even live in Gotham City, you just commuted here for work.

"Stalking? Oh no, I am simply observing," he replied smoothy, but it came off as more snappy and insincere.

"Right... Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, home to my apartment miles away. It's been an exhausting day and too late to be out on the town, so if you're proposing anything, I can't take it tonight."

"It's always a long, late night in Gotham."

He moved within a few feet of you and you swallowed nervously, but remembered a man like him could smell fear, so you put up a brave front.

"So when do you finally fuck off and leave me alone? It's unprofessional to follow someone without their permission, you know. Keep this up and I'll need a restraining order."

"But you always avoid me during work and now you reject my offer for simple company?"

"Company late at night at my car in the rain? And aren't you technically my boss? We aren't friends and I don't know why you're so interested in me, but I don't think you should be. I'm not looking for a man like you. Right now I'm just looking for a nice glass of red wine honestly."

"Really...?" he drew the word out to almost a parodying tone and you pursed your lips.

"Yes, really. Now I bid you goodnight, Dr. Crane." You opened the car door fully, ducking and stepping a foot in when the door caught and you looked up to see him holding it in a firm grip. He was stronger than you expected.

"Stop denying it, I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Stop hiding and face me once and for all," he insisted darkly.

You took a breath, desperately trying to calm your beating heart and yet the horrible feeling that this evening wasn't going to end on a dull note persisted.

"Don't hurt me, I'll-" you started to warn and his eyebrows shot up with a shake of his head.

"Call the police?" It sounded like mockery from his mouth and you scowled as he continued, his pale hand sprinkled with rainwater sliding up and down the car door frame.

"Hurt you, hm? Well, only if you want me to." He chuckled and you stared at his slightly floppy dewey dark hair and raised eyebrows.

"Why the hell would I want you to hurt me?"

"You tell me. I do know you secretly want something else, don't you? Something more... erotic?"

You scoffed angrily, hating how he was worming his way past your exterior and into attraction, but you couldn't let it happen.

"Take a raincheck. I'm going home." You tried to shut the door but he was still holding it in a death grip, knuckles white and veins bursting out the back of his hand.

"Stop fucking around, I don't have time for this sh-" you cut off your sentence with a yelp as Dr. Crane shoved you inside the backseat of your own car and you landed flat on your back as he came inside to hover over your vulnerable body, wetting his pink lips.

"Please! Don't do this!" you cried out of panic and he leaned back, breathing heavily.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned and you struggled to sit up, throwing your purse up front and he slammed the side door shut, getting more comfortable in the backseat, which you were not pleased about.

"This is MY car, get out," you commanded, but he was as cool as a cucumber as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his suit jacket.

"I just want to talk one on one, which we never do outside of the usual board meetings and it can be so boring, always about psychiatry and stats and police reports and this patient and these crazies and-"

"Oh sure you just want to talk. I'm not some kind of naive idiot to the desires of the opposite sex," you rolled your eyes and he scoffed, settling back on the seat with a cross of his legs and looking up to the car ceiling.

"It's so cold and wet tonight, shame we aren't someplace more cozy," he muttered and you awkwardly crawled into the driver's seat with your keys and fumbled to insert them in, starting the ignition.

"What are you doing there?" he asked mildly and even that sounded passive aggressive. God, he sure was insufferable.

"Turning the heat on because you're whining about it. I just wish you'd get out of here, completely violating my privacy."

"This is a public street you're parked on, isn't it? And is this how you treat all passengers?"

"I never have any passengers," you remarked bitterly and Crane leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the seat and peering around to you as you glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Indeed. I know you're mostly a loner with almost no friends and orphaned from family or maybe you've lied and they aren't dead and are only estranged... Either way, no one cares and no one understands how you spend office hours in a facility full of the most criminally insane but you do it for the money and to quench your curiosity because deep down, you know - you know you're a freak too who sees no normal in what you have deemed a, oh say... corrupt kind of world."

You swallowed at his assertions and unfortunately fairly accurate reading.

"I don't need sympathy from you of all people," you snapped, putting the heat to full blast. It was freezing tonight and the defrost was battling the condensation filling up the windshield.

"I'm only trying to understand you myself, it's my job to psychoanalyze."

"I'm not one of your patients or experiments," you told him in disgust.

"Every human being is an experiment in the eyes of their creator, which is me for you because I happen to be the one who hired you in the first place. Without me, you would not have a job and therefore I created you in that respect," he replied in absurd smugness.

"Then what am I? Frankenstein's monster?"

His eyes flashed and he adjusted his glasses reflexively.

"I wish. No, you're my first prototype I have yet to diagnose."

You shut the heat off once the internal temperature was fairly toasty and cracked a window down a fraction for circulation. A beat of silence befell until he suddenly climbed into the front, dropping into the passenger seat confidently, and you realized how lithe he was, how easily he fit into spaces not designed for someone with such an overshadowing, all-encompassing ego.

"Now what are you doing?" you asked exasperatedly. He didn't answer and you hated the way looking at him was making your heart flutter despite your anger and the alarm bells ringing in your brain. Something about him was always... very off and you never could quite place your finger on it, he was a blind spot, but it was undeniable. Which was telling considering the people you were exposed to every day.

Crane reached up and removed his glasses entirely with a swipe to set them on the dash and your breath caught with that simple action. You admitted how he was very visually pleasing without those lens obstructing his intense blue colored orbs were. You glanced down and fiddled with the keys when he suddenly snatched them up out of your lap and pocketed them into his own pants with a manic expression.

"Hey, give those back!" you yelled and began to wrestle with him, arms flailing as he held his own above his head, palms up and empty.

"You want those? You have to do something for me first."

"I-Okay, what is it?" You dropped your arms and glared at him suspiciously. He smirked once, speaking with a tremor of excitement.

"If I was civilized, which I'm admittedly not, I'd ask you out on an old fashioned dinner date and then walk you to your door, give you a nice polite kiss and send flowers to your desk on Monday. But I can't wait anymore for that saccharine romantic scenario, so we'll get straight down to business. I want to fuck your brains out, right here in the car."

You blinked, rather stunned.

"I... I-I no, I can't, I mean that's-"

And here was where your confidence utterly failed as he suddenly lunged and grabbed you to pin you down inbetween the passenger and driver seats, head flung upside down almost to the backseat floor and legs helplessly kicking towards the windshield.

"Please, don't do this!" you yelped anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin who has never had a dick in you before," he whispered, misreading your fearful hesitant expression. Actually, you'd had sex once with a lame boyfriend back in college and since then, avoided the dating and hookup scene, content just to masturbate when you could.

"Oh, fuck, I should've guessed. What a shocking discovery," he wrongly concluded rather sarcastically and you cringed, twisting your head away from his warm breath and ridiculously good looks.

"This makes it all the more interesting, then," he murmured with a feathery caress to your cheek and you flinched, giving him a kick and successfully wriggling out of his grasp to curl up against the door in the backseat.

"I've been waiting a long time for our encounter," he mused, utterly unfazed at the negative reaction.

You immediately went to open the door, ready to run for your life if he became overly threatening, but he hit the button that locked all the doors. You manually unlocked your one door - thank God for that safety feature - but his deadly voice made you freeze.

"Are you quite sure you want to do that?"

"T-This is my ensured vehicle and y-you are violating every right of mine by t-taking over like this," you stated, but your voice was shaking like a leaf through the words.

"That's it, you are afraid of me..." he whispered slowly and the pure delight with pride in his voice was unmistakable. You turned to look at him directly, unable to hide and deny anything any longer.

"I think you are being very inappropriate right now," you admitted nervously.

Crane moved to join you in the backseat, but you felt stuck even though you could technically open the door and make an escape. There was no way he could really stop you, was there? He didn't have a weapon on him, did he?

"If you were really frightened, you would have bolted by now," he said as though reading your thoughts and you gulped, realizing he was right.

"Dr. Crane, I-" you were broken off by him abruptly grabbing your face and kissing you, his tongue sloppily forcing its way into your mouth and you naturally reciprocated while inhaling his sharp stinging scent of expensive cologne. He pulled back with a gasp and a mischievous spark in his eyes that made something awaken deep inside.

"You kissed me," you said in a stunned voice.

"That's precisely what I did, Y/N," he answered with another touch of smugness and you closed your eyes, knowing you were in too deep now. He was going to take this all the way and you felt helpless to stop it. Did you even want to stop him?

"I knew if I exposed myself enough to you, you'd finally stop being immune," Crane told you with a sort of self-righteousness as he ran his hands down your back and shrugged your coat off before moving to your front to remove your blouse carefully, button by button.

"I hate to see such pretty tits contained and so oppressed... Let's free them, shall we?"

He unclasped your bra and removed it, tossing it to the floor and you shivered, goosebumps peppering your bare arms and neck.

"Aww, is it too cold?" He made a pout and privately you wanted to smack those stupid lips right off his condescending face but it was if you were under a spell of a sudden, entranced by his actions and his hypnotic eyes. He trailed his fingers down from your throat to your nipples and you hardened at the stimulation, closing your eyes in regret. Dr. Crane was turning you on, dammit.

"Better than I could imagine..." he breathed, taking in your appearance for a minute while groping your breasts, squeezing, and you gritted your teeth as he teasingly tickled you under your arms, making your breath hitch and a stupid giggle slipped out.

"Sensitive, are we? I promise I won't hurt you."

You leaned back, casting a fretful look out the windows in case of onlookers, but the street was empty and the glass was streaky with rain, creating a thickly translucent rippled covering not unlike a shower curtain.

"No one knows," Crane stated flatly in response to your paranoia while untying his dress shoes and pushing them under the seats. You just nodded, taking off your own and then unzipping your pants the same time he undid his own. His tight dark grey briefs were bulging with his cock and you hesitated, absolutely unsure of what to do when he completely stripped and out popped out his erect glistening-at-the-tip penis in full view.

"Take it in your mouth," Crane ordered abruptly, pushing you down beneath him.

"Um, no I think that's disgus-" Your voice was cut off as you nearly choked; he roughly shoved his cock so fast into your parted mouth. The silky end of his tie tickled your nose as he inched closer, and clearly this was much more enjoyable for him than it was for you as he groaned in building ecstasy and you kept your mouth closed around it, afraid that if you moved, you'd gag or get hurt. He forced your head up a little and bobbed, but you could feel a dribble of precum seeping down your throat and now you reflexed, yanking yourself from him with a loud noise and banging the car door open to cough and spit violently out onto the pavement below.

"Get back in, do you want someone to see us?!" Crane hissed and you felt a sharp tug on your hair as he pulled you back. You shrieked and self defensively twisted to slap him straight in the face. He gasped from the unexpected blow, falling back and banging his head on the opposite window as you spat, wiping your lips of his mess.

"Can't take it like a common whore, can you? Feel like being a goddamn difficult bitch, don't you? Think you're better than me, do you?" he seethed, rubbing his cranium and you huffed.

"I thought you'd just put your dick in me, not that bullshit."

"It's called oral and many women in fact enjoy it."

"How do you know, you've done that before?"

He had a strange expression when he replied briskly.

"I've read up on the concept, you know."

"You've studied about women and sex. Amazing. Is that what you do on your lunch break or...?" you almost laughed, but the way he was staring at you wasn't in a joking manner. He had the look of an inmate one straw away from a full psychotic behavior break down. Basing from your training, you decided to distract his frustrating anger and talk nonchalantly to calm him down.

"Okay, I'm kidding around, I get it, and I don't mean to hate or spite you. Remember when I was initially employed at Arkham, fresh out of college, and I met you for the first time? I personally thought you were extremely cocky and looked waaay too young to be a top psychiatrist in such a grand high security institution. Now I can say with certainty that while you are, um, creative in your methods with the inmates and I do admit I find you very terribly attractive, I have to say Dr. Crane... I still think you're an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Call me Jonathan," he replied, unimpressed by the insult and wrestling off his tie.

"Well, Dr. Jonathan, you sure are a pretty piece of work," you replied with ample attitude and he was fed up, dumping his jacket and shirt from his body and twisting the tie in his fingers. He held it up and a muscle spasmed in face, jaw clenching and enunciating his cheekbones.

"You want me to choke you with this?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't and it would be very nice if you weren't such a dick forcing your sex on me," you answered matter-of-factly.

"Lie down or I'll fucking fire you from your position, understand?" he snapped loudly and was extremely serious as you glared, but then reluctantly laid back obediently on the seats just to avoid complications and he came down swiftly, carefully aligning to position his penis at your entrance. He cautiously touched the moist head to your vaginal lips when you held up a hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"Now hang on doctor, don't you want to warm up first?"

"I'm obviously already warmed up, Miss Y/LN."

"But I don't have lubricant on me, so you're going to have to get me naturally very wet for penetration because right now I'm dry as a bone," you warned for your own protection, but hardly expected him to listen.

"Don't tell me how to do it," he replied, snippy.

"I'm serious, you can't just stick it in there; it will be just as hard for you as it'll be for me and I don't want to end up seeing a gynecologist."

"So you aren't a virgin after all?"

"I had my hymen broken with a loser in the past," you told him and he raised one brown eyebrow, creasing his forehead with a few fine lines.

"Then how should I start, Miss doctor?"

You wordlessly took a hold of his index finger and guided it to your opening and he pressed lightly, feeling pooling liquid.

"You little liar, you're already discharging," he whispered disapprovingly and he massaged your clit in slow jerky rhythm. You nodded in approval, losing your control as he slipped a finger in and moved around enough to make you clench a bit, trapping his digit.

"How does that feel?" he asked almost clinically and you closed your eyes, urging him to put in another finger. He did and you almost orgasmed when he extracted much too soon, sighing.

"This isn't much fun for me," he whined and you made a face, shifting position to spread your legs wider, putting your arms up and accidentally smearing the fogged window with your fingertips. You looked utterly submissive, practically begging to be fucked, to get it over with (so you convinced yourself).

But for all his aggression to trap you in your own car for penetrative sex, Jonathan was now becoming oddly timid as he hesitantly closed the gap between you, realigning his bare body to yours.

"Wait, have you done this before?" you asked suspiciously and he was sheepish in answering.

"I told you, you are my first prototype."

"Shit, you're the virgin here?!" You laughed as though this made this experience any less stressful or partially contrived.

"Do you masturbate?" you then asked and he rolled his eyes.

"What kind of man of do you think I am?"

"Is that yes or no?"

"Doesn't matter, Y/N. Now, let me ask you a more important question: are you on birth control of any type?"

"I..." you hesitated to answer because if you told him 'no' would he go any further? You had pills at home as a precaution, but neglected to ever take them, assuming you'd be remaining single. But you had no intention of getting into a full relationship and certainly not being impregnated by this man.

"I left them at home," you finally answered truthfully.

"I have something for that then," he assured and you stared as he leaned back and rummaged in the pockets of his clothes on the floor. He produced a tiny pill container and dropped a pill into your open palm. You didn't ask why he was carrying around birth control pills, but assumed he had indeed been planning this for a while.

"Don't want any unnecessary side effects of something that I'll have to end up terminating anyway," he muttered bitterly as you popped it in and climbed into the driver's seat to swig some water from your plastic bottle in the cupholder, feeling grateful that at least he didn't administer that Fear Toxin he was always messing around with in the asylum.

"Now can we get started?" Jonathan asked impatiently and you took a breath, easing the front seat down so you were lying parallel to him. Jonathan clamored on top of your naked flesh and straddled you, his cock rubbing up against your thighs, then vaginal area and you squirmed, clutching onto his back. He pushed in gradually, but densely, and you whimpered at the stinging pain and then the growing pleasure bubbling around his cock within your walls and you clenched hard, much harder than you had with his fingers.

"Oh... Fuck, Jonathan..." you groaned and he bounced up and down lightly, thrusting with slaps of skin and you felt your bottom sticking with sweat to the leather seat as he kept at it for several minutes, gripping your hips and nearly plowing you apart. It hurt, no getting around it, and he wasn't privy to what you were feeling as he seemed entirely in his own zone, racing for his pleasure until you moaned loud enough to cause him glance down, realizing you were getting close to free falling off the edge.

"C'mon, you're so close with that pretty little pussy of yours, almost..." Jonathan breathed in your ear and as he hit the spot, finally the climaxing orgasm came with a bang and it was so intense, probably fueled by adrenaline and stress more than actual love, that you emitted a high pitched shrieking whine which trailed into a low moan of relief while it tapered off and he grunted, somehow thrusting even further. Yes, you had minimal experience, but had never ever been penetrated this far before and you dreaded how much longer he could rail you, but thankfully his own orgasm came with a grunting groan as he spilled into you and you held on, digging nails into his shoulder blades and nearly biting his neck. He panted heavily in your ear and his tickle of breath made your stomach flip.

He laid still on top of you for awhile, cock twitching and warming your insides. The windows were fogged up completely and the cold was now non-existent with the heat you and him were creating out of friction alone.

"You enjoy yourself?" you whispered hoarsely to Jonathan as his breathing slowed sluggishly and he looked like he was falling asleep, so you shoved him off your aching body and he blinked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, that was satisfactory. Maybe I should bump up your paycheck."

"I'm not a prostitute, but thank you."

He smiled lazily, eyes rather unfocused, and you pulled your seat up with the lever, reaching for his glasses on the dash and handing them back to him. He, in turn, retrieved the car keys from his pants and tossed them back to you with a clanging jingle.

Casting a look around your car, there were streaky handprints on the fogged glass, thin swipes of fingers and imprinted palms decorating the back windows and you reached over to one and drew a heart outline in a patch of blank space. Jonathan's own finger speared through it, making a arrow.

"Very romantic," you commented sarcastically and moved to join him in the backseat as he started to draw a creepy face reminiscent of a familiar spooky icon (a clown? Maybe a scarecrow?) when he stopped and checked his watch.

"I need to go," Jonathan coldly stated out of the blue and began to hastily gather up his clothing, awkwardly dressing before he stepped outside and zipped up his pants, and inhaled the late October city air, somewhat out of breath. The rain had stopped and the skies were clearing, the full pearly white moon slicing through the curtain of storm clouds, and you drew your blouse around yourself with a shiver before sliding into underwear, realizing you'd never look at Dr. Crane the same since this intimately raw experience.

"So I'll be seeing you around tomorrow...?" you wondered aloud and although you meant for that to be purely work related, he clearly took it the other direction.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you." He smirked knowingly and then slammed the car door closed in your face, leaving you sore and to reel from whatever the hell this twisted specimen of a man just put you through. Did you like it?

Maybe.

Thanks for reading 🖤 First time writing for Jonathan Crane, so I hope this was halfway decent!

[princessofmarvel]

Nothing to fear

summary | jonathans girlfriend accidentally takes some fear toxin, while finding out that he is the scarecrow (i suck at summaries, lol)

pairing | jonathan crane x innocent!fem!reader!

word count | 1.2k

genre | fluff with some angst!

requested? | yes! thank you so much for this request @kpopgirlbtssvt i had so much fun writing it! 

warnings! | the reader gets drugged, but I think that’s it! Please let me know if there is anything that I am missing! And, this is not really proofread yet, lol

​​author’s note! | my requests are open for these characters! please send in your requests for blurbs, headcanons, or imagines! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

Jonathan has been at work the entire day, irritated and stressed beyond belief. The only thing getting him through it? Knowing that his beautiful girl was home waiting for him. She called him earlier to let him know that she was going to his place after her last class, he insisted that she just rest after, but she kept saying something about a surprise she had planned. He knew there was no talking her out of it, so he decided that it would be better to just look forward to anything she had planned. 

When he met her, he could have sworn she wasn’t real. She had accidentally bumped into him while she was getting her coffee one day, and knocked his coffee to the ground. She immediately started apologizing, and asking what his order was so she could get him a new one. And, no matter how many times he told her it was fine, and to not worry about it (mostly so he could just hurry on to work) she wouldn’t stop. He finally caved and gave her his order, and she immediately ran and ordered him a new one. She gave it to him with an intoxicating smile on her face while still apologizing. After the encounter Jonathan had to dig deep into his mind and make sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Just to make sure, he went back to the same coffee shop the next morning, and saw her sitting there at a table, her pale pink nails tapping away at her computer, while sipping her drink.  As he was about to leave, she looked up at him, and invited him to sit with her. They sat and talked until the coffee shop was closing up. 

Jonathan unlocked his door and walked into his home, while the smell of a freshly cooked meal immediately hit him in the face. He realized what the surprise must have been. She had mentioned last week how she wished they had enough time to spend a proper meal with each other. He had something planned for the weekend, but she must have beat him to it.  As he walked into the kitchen he saw the lights dimmed, candles lit, and the amazing meal set out on the table. The only thing missing? His angel was nowhere to be seen. He suddenly became very aware of his surroundings as he heard small whimpers coming from the bathroom beyond the shut door. 

“Sweetheart?” He called out, as he knocked on the door. When all he got back was a scared whimper he decided that he couldn’t wait for a response, and walked into the bathroom only to be met with a sight that broke his heart. 

His girlfriend trembling in the corner with tears streaming down her face, the nice dress she had on now all wrinkled up. Her once done up hair had now been messed up from what he imagined would have been her fingers pulling at it. She had her head down on her knees while mumbling something to herself that he couldn’t make out. He didn’t understand what was going on until he noticed the now knocked over, and empty bottle of his fear toxin on the sink. 

“Angel?” He said calmly as he bent to her level, slowly taking her face in his hands as he tried to make eye contact with her eyes darting everywhere but at him. 

“J-Johnny? There was a-” She stopped as she started to sob again. He pulled her into his chest and held her until she started to calm down. 

Once she calmed down enough, he helped her into the shower to calm her, and make sure she knew that whatever it was she saw was fake, but what she was feeling was real. After he helped her get dried off, dressed, and wrapped in a blanket on the couch, he brought her a warm cup of tea, and sat opposite of her, waiting for her to talk first. 

“What was that?” She quietly mumbled out, while taking a sip of her tea, staring straight ahead. 

“It was a fear toxin, something I use on patients.” He tells her slowly in fear of her freaking out, but she stays surprisingly calm, while just staring straight ahead, so he continued. “I give it to them so they can face their fears, and see that it is all just in their heads”

“And the mask?” She asked, finally looking at him, her eyes puffy, and red from all the crying she had done. “I saw it in the case, I went to put it away, but when I picked it up, it was unlocked and everything fell out. It’s the mask of that man they show on the news, is that you Jonathan?” 

He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how to answer this without her freaking out. “Yes, it’s me, and I completely understand if that makes you want to end this.” 

Saying that to her broke his heart, he wanted her to stay, but he knew that if this was too much for her, he needed to let her leave. She was the only person in this world that he could never even dream of hurting, no matter how much it would hurt him. 

“Jonathan, I’m not completely sure what it is that you do, but I do know that you make me feel safer, and happier than any other man in this city could. I’m not sure that I'm ready to know exactly what it is you do, but I’m not ready for this to end.” She has to him in almost a whisper. 

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’ll explain everything when you’re ready.” He says while pulling her down to lay on his chest, while wrapping the blanket around them both. As he kisses her head he notices that she has already fallen asleep, probably worn out from the fear toxin. Jonathan eventually falls asleep with her on the couch, with her all wrapped up in his arms. 

The next morning, Jonthan woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes, and his girlfriend was no longer on his chest. He walks into the kitchen to see her, dancing around the kitchen while fixing breakfast. She jumped a little as he walked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. 

  “Shhhh Sweetheart, it’s just me.” He mumbles into her neck, while leaving small kisses. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I was hungry.” She said to him with a smile, while making them both a plate. 

“Hey Jonathan?” She says while sitting across from him as they ate. “Am I going to get hurt?” she asked him somewhat quietly.

Jonathan made his way to kneel down next to her chair. “Never, that is the last thing that would happen, angel. You have nothing to fear.” He said, looking at her with complete genuineness.  

“Okay” She said to him with a nod, and a smile. Jonathan stood up, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As they pulled away smiling, Jonathan picked her up while she gave a small squeal. He smiled down at her only to see that she was smiling back at him as he carried her to his bedroom. While they were smiling at each other, Jonathan knew that this would all end up all right.

[nekassvariigs]

Intentionally calling them Husband in scenarios, here's how to turns out.

Crocodile, Yamato, Ace, Law, Raighley, Usopp .

This will be a three? part series cause tumblr doesnt allow more pictures to be added for aesthetic ;-;

Part two will feature:Sanji,Zoro,Luffy,Katakuri,Sabo,Roger.

______________________________________________________________

You gambled away your berries at the infamous casino, not that you were of working class desperate for luck, it was fun watching the ball roll everytime with a little interest for securing a loaded paycheck.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

a loud hiccup next to you a man chugged what looked to be beer, he looked so drunken out of his mind he didnt even care if he got in debt right this moment. "How ya doing ,yous a pretty little thing aint ya" he looked at you body wavering for balance.

"Good. You?" you tried not to get in contact with him as much possible not really needing to cause a scene.

"M' Alright, been winning loads t'nite. Whats a pretty thing like you doin' out here?" he rested his hand on his machene trting to support his head.

"Just waiting for my husband." you smiled a little, rolling another time.

"That so, who is he, i see noone ready to come for ya, reckon we could go back to mines?"

"No i dont reckon i could, he should be here in a moment anyway." you sigh, he was a little late, you took out a cigarrette from your bag, lighting it, taking a puff.

"Aye you look so lovely, is a shame yous with someone." the man was drunk spilling everthing he had for a chance.

"Ya think?" you sipped your martini.

" 'fcourse, id give ye the word yknow, show you all round the lands and oceans."

"That so? Are you rich?" you wanted to know since he had enough cash to get piss drunk and not care how much he wasted.

"M the richest here as far as i know, let me treat ya to a drink." he slurred his words not noticing the tall figure approaching behind you.

"You dont mind ordering for two by chance?" you smiled cheekily.

"Course not, everythin for you darlin."

he swatted a waitress ordering another two drinks.

"Say can i show ya round? I know this place good enough."

You took another puff from your ciggarette, fondling it between your fingers in an exspensive manner.

"Aye you ignorin me?"

"Ah there we go, lets light this place up," you thought finally exsposing the nature of this man.

He stepped infornt of you hand on your slot machene preventing you from another game.

"Fuckin hag," he hiccuped, ugh how close was this man from soiling himself with barf.

"Got held up a bit, sorry for being late." Crocodile kissed you, compleatley ignoring the fool by your side. You smiled into the kiss opening your mouth a bit to welcome his tongue, proceeding to have a full blown makeout infront of the drunken asshole.

You pulled away from him your lipstick slightly staining his lips.

"This is my husband, if you want to give me the tour youll have to confirm with him." The man looked pale as a ghost upon seeing crocodile.

"He thinks he a big shot or somethin?" The guy pulled out a gun pointing it to his face and firing.

Crocodiles face dissapeared leaving him standing with half of a face.

"Ou, bad move." You laughed hitting the slots for the last time.

In a matter of seconds Crocodiles hand reached for the man his blood boiling before it turned into thin air, his entire body changing to the shape of a pile of sand within seconds.

"Here's your drinks miss." the waitress came setting your drinks you passed the other to your lover. Completely ignoring the slaughter that took place with a calm expression.

Crocodile downed the whole glass in one go leaning for another heavy kiss.

He whispered against your lips, "So im now a husband?" his low tone rumbling in his chest.

"Only if you want to be one,i had to say something didnt i?" you smiled hearing the slots ding in a jackpot.

"Thats my girl." he closed the space between you again.

Ace

You were making a reservation for a restaurant ace laying beside you lazily. "Hi id like to make a reservation for me and my husband."

His heart stopped for a second, he nudged you with a glint in his eyes.

"Yes we'd like a romantic setting please,"

after a few mintues more of the call you ended it thanking the woman in charge.

"You've got a husband now huh?" he asked pressing his legs against yours.

"I sure do, im looking at him right now." You smiled slyly folding a lock of his black hair behind his ears.

His heart was ablaze cheeks crimson, gosh he looked alluring.

He smiled tackling you onto the couch.

You giggled at his childishness it always was a fun sight.

"Yknow i love you." he confessed sweetly for the millionth time.

His body over yours his hair partially blocking his handsome face.

You hummed reaching for him, his body lowered onto yours as he gave you the sweetest of kisses.

"I love you too Ace." he attacked your neck with rampant kisses like a puppy before planting another onto your lips, his body settled down onto yours for a lazy cuddle. You stroked his hair practically hearing him purr against you.

Yamato

He had rescued you a few years back, your limp body on the shore of Onigashima he couldn't help it, he just hoped you'd make it through.

Skipping time to the present he sat ahead of you near the fireplace a large slab of meat cooking.

Ever since he rescued you you two developed a habit of sharing stories and adventures, iconic fights and daily life, you managed to get along prefectly, seeing your intrests align so much you two became a thing in no time. His strong will to be set free along yours to fight for the top place in the grand line made him even more willfull to see the world.

"Yknow im happy to have the strongest husband out in the entire grand line."

"M-Me?" He blushed the red horns shining beautifully against the fireplace.

His strong heart beating a bit faster as be took in your face. You were so confident in your words it made him happy hearing you depend on him like this.

"Mhm, What would i be doing without you." you pondered making him lean in a little before he stood up, your eyes watching his body move to the side of you, he sat beside you wanting a little more comfort, he hadn't gotten such praise in a while.

"Were not really married tho are we?" he questioned knowing youre together.

"Not yet atleast but one day would be nice. Making a name for the strongest out there." You smiled dreaming of the future. your head resting on his shoulder, he took your hand in his full of determination.

"We'd be the best out there." he laughed.

Usopp

You watched your favourite sniper as he coincidentally managed to strike down a whole ship with a single blow, his eyes growing wide mouth ajar as he looked at you.

"Wooo! That's my husband right there!" you laughed drink in hand as you watched his face change from pale surprise to a warm gooey shock.

"Huh? Me? Thats right, The great Sniper king Usopp strikes again! Have i told you how i beat three Warlords? It was a quick fight they stood no chance!" He laughed proclaiming his lies as if they were true.

You hopped on deck to where he was enjoying his glory, giving him a big hug for his accomplishment.

He stiffened up a bit, remining himself to be calm, he always seemed a bit nervous when you approached him, he liked you that much.

"That's right, praise my glory!" You pulled away giving him the stink eye.

He continued to babble until he started calling himself the Best married man out in the open sea and that's when it hit him.

"!?" a glowing bulb of light went off ontop his head, a dark blush covering his cheeks.

"Ha-Huuu-Huuusssband.!?!" he suddenly thought unable to piece the words together as you looked at him nonchalantly.

He puffed his chest out taking a stance. "A-A-As the best husband i have a duty to fuffil to protect my spouse!" He contained his excitment proud of his new nickname as you kept clapping and cheering for him.

Raighley

Lazing by the bar at Shabody Archipellago a few men were riling themselves up celebrating a big feat.

"Thats our capitan for you! Securing a boatload of treasure!" They cheered and hollered as you swirled your drink reading a magazine.

"Oi miss, celebrate with us!" they laughed alcohol pouring down their throats.

You shifted your gaze towards them giving them a pessimistic side eye.

"-?!" They seemed shocked to be ignored seeming a little alert by how little attention you payed to them.

"Our bad fellas, Young lady here is in a bit of a bad mood today." Raighley excused himself butting in not willing to ruin a good evening, his hand on your shoulder as you continued to swipe through the pages.

"That's right guys, i'm a little off today." You smirked having stolen a sachel of gold from one of them.

They resumed their party as Raighley tooo seat beside you.

"70/30?" He asked calmly negotiating to split the gold you swiped.

"60/40." You offered back checking out a set of clothes toying with the ends of the paper.

A sharp sword near Raighleys throat , his glasses gleaming white as you stayed still as did he, the man yelled.

"Which one of you was it?" He stormed poiting the blade so it shined against the lights beside the bar.

The two of you stayed quiet still neither fazed by the antic taking place.

The man neared his sword close to Raighleys neck, cutting off a few strands of his beard.

That was a no-go in your books. "Oi, You plan to pay for touching my husband like that?" you gave him the nastiest of looks pointing the blade away with the tip of your finger. Raighley smirked enjoying your facade.

"This old fart, your husband?" He laughed, showing his nearly tothless mouth. Pointing the blade back at you.

Raighley took a drink his hand winding over the sword before him. "You wanna pay up? Or do i have to beat the shit out of you for it?"

"Look at his old ass, having a woman stand up for him." The room errupted in laugher even Raighley mocked a laugh smile lines crickling as he did so.

"55/45." He resumed talking with you causing you to chuckle.

"Might aswell 50/50 it at this point." Rolling your eyes you extended a hand for him to shake, he caught it twisting it so your knuckles faced him.

He gave them a peck and in a fell swoop the aura in the vacinity changed darkening quickly,men around you dropped like flies.

'' You've got a bad habit of doing that don't you dear." He looked at you through white brows downing the last of his drink confidently.

He played along causing you to huff in amusement.

''It doesn't hurt now does it?'' you leaned back watching over the passed out bodies.

''Let's go, I think we have outstayed our visit." You got up from the stool, tip-toing around sweaty bodies as you proceeded to swipe anything worth the while.

He followed suite with a hearty laugh, offering his hand to you as you stepped out.

Law

Bepo was pestering you today, the cute bear had a lot of questions for you so you sat back explaining so many things to him now wanting to deny his curiosity.

"So then after a relationship, you get married?''

He asked fluffy hands on the table across you.

''That's right, you get married, then if you want to you can have kids, rule the seas pretty much do whatever your heart desires and you have a trustworthy companion to do so with.'' you gleamed egging on this childish play. Law lazing by the ship a cup of hot tea in his hand.

''So then, do you have a husband?'' he asked noticing you had a ring on your finger, granted it wasn't for official titling you just put in on randomly this morning as it was a fancy peace of jewelry you found.

You chuckled hard extending your hand to showcase the ring to Bepo, Law listening in as he sipped his tea in peace, he liked gossip as well.

''I sure do, it's Law.'' you decided to mess with the bear, his jaw hitting the table as his fluffy hands grasped yours.

Law spat out his drink making it fly across his face hands and clothes. You could feel a looming darkness behind you as you continued answering Bepo's questions about your so called 'husband'.

''Y/n-ya, we need to talk.'' Law didn't even give you the time to get up using his devil fruit to teleport you to his office his dirtied clothes diminishing the raging look on his face.

''In your right mind, why would you lie to Bepo about something like this?'' he wiped away the tea inevitably staining his clothes, you held back a chuckle.

''He was acting very cute, you know how hard it is to say no to his questions.''

Law paused hands on the table before him a dirty paper towel in one hand, he had a glooming aura to him. ''DONT SO SAYING THINGS LIKE THIS TO HIM AND TAKE THAT OFF!'' he yelled surrounding you in his room skill to intimidate you.

You shrieked agreeing to his taunt as you put the ring away, he sighed.

''N E V E R, and i mean that seriously, NEVER tell him such childish imaginations, next thing you'll know he'll be trying his best to recreate a wedding. '' he yelled with a big frown on his face.

The moment you stepped out Bepo handed you a bouquet. Egging you to do a walk down the isle.

Law was in utter terror of how he took on two absolute dumbasses, he stormed back out on the ship, the two of you got rewarded with heavy bumps on your heads and laundry chores for weeks.

[pinguwrites]

You Set My Soul Alight | Jonathan Crane

Pairing -> sub!jonathan crane x villain!reader

Summary -> You and Jonathan Crane have always been at odds. He's an arrogant asshole and you're a sarcastic shit, and no matter what you always find a way to bump heads. The worst part about it is that deep down you find him brilliant and attractive and utterly intoxicating. One day, Crane comes to you with a plea to enticing to resist, and you find this the perfect opportunity to put him in his place.

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), enemies with feelings, sub!Jon acting like a brat, swearing, dom!reader, degradation kink, ma'am kink, unprotected sex, edging, hair pulling, ball slapping, slapping in general, if you squint real hard Jonathan's lowkey a little sexist, bruce wayne is a playboy, reader's kinda a simp

Word count: 5k

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight trilogy/DC characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Jonathan Crane glared at you, his piercing blue eyes filled with a layer of contempt and almost embarrassment like he was regretting this entire endeavor. It was delightful, seeing him in this state, and you made sure to enjoy every second of it — the way his cheeks were tinting a light pink, his muscles tensed up and his tone coming out a desperate yet still arrogant plea. Moments like these were rare, and you were ready to savor and drag them out every chance you got. 

  “I need your help,” he repeated, his tone distasteful like he was swallowing a bitter pill. “I told you, I need more money for my experiments, but I can’t do it without any funding. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a gala next week. All the richest of the city will be there and all of them are looking to donate. Charity, science, whatever will make them look good. I know you’re going, so I’m asking — as polite as I can be — please, get me an invite.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes trailing off to look at some random painting on the wall. You briefly wondered how he got past your home security, but after a few seconds, you focused your attention back on him. “Sorry, what did you say? Can you repeat that?” you said with a slight grin.

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Don’t be clever with me.” But then he shakes his head and lets his serious facade go. “We both know you have the connections to score another invite . . . Please, my darling.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, the way it always did when he called you that. You wondered if he knew just how much you enjoyed it.

“I like it when you beg, it’s always been a good look on you.”

Jonathan smiles. A mock smile.

“Well, it’s true. No point in getting all upset.” You shrug, heading over to your kitchen to get some iced coffee for the both of you. “Tell me, why should I help you? Why should I help the man who has made it his mission to offend me every time we speak?”

You may have been a little unfair in saying that. Sure, he was a brat, but so were you. In fact, ever since you two met you had always been at each other’s throats, demeaning one another, insulting everything from intellect to personality to looks. You doubt your paths would have ever crossed had it not been for your good friend Harley, who introduced you both one fateful summer evening.

You don’t know what went wrong that day. Maybe it was the weather, the exceptionally hot wind that only frequented Gotham once every couple of years, the ones that made the city cranky and sweaty, or perhaps it was simply a bad first impression, the ones that just happened every once in a while. It had happened far too long ago to remember what it was that made you dislike Jonathan so much in the first place, and you were sure it didn’t matter. According to everyone who knew him, he had always been an ass, but he was good company once you got to know him.

Maybe he was. You wanted to figure that out, to peel away the layers of armor. You could be friends, lovers even. He could be yours. Yours to do whatever you wanted with. Yours to put in place, because god knows he needed it.

You weren’t sure when you started to think like this. To grow an obsession, but you did, and you couldn’t stop your feelings now. You didn’t want to stop. Loving Jonathan was too addictive, no matter how much he pretended to hate you — because you knew he didn’t actually hate you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stop in once every while, under the pretense of snarky put-downs or brags. He wouldn’t graze his fingers with yours when walking by, and he wouldn’t ask your friends (namely Harley) what you did, what you liked, and what you talked about. 

“Because deep down,” Jonathan answered, following you into the kitchen, “you know I’m brilliant, and you know I deserve your help.” He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip before continuing, “But you’re too prideful to admit it.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s not a good reason. Deserve isn’t enough, Crane. At least not for me. I know you can do better than this, convince me. That mouth must be good for something.”

Jonathan paused, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lower lip, making it glisten in the light of the lamp. You weren’t sure if the brief silence was because he got flustered, or he was just thinking. “Then do it because you want to,” he finally said. “Because you know my research is important and you care for it, enough to do me this one simple favor.”

“I don’t know . . .” you trailed off in a teasing tone.

It seemed like Jonathan was getting annoyed again. “My dear, won’t you help me?”

“I’m still thinking.” 

He groaned. “Pretty please?”

You let out a little sigh, barely audible. “I will. For you.” 

That last part had intended to come off as flirtatious and pretentious, but instead, it was soft and delicate, so vulnerable it took you off guard.

“Thank you,” he said, setting his glass down. He had finished all of the coffee, quickly enough so that there were still ice cubes lying on the bottom of the glass. “I’ll pick you up, around four. Who knows, maybe we’ll even have some fun.”

And that was it. He left through your front door without saying anything else, leaving you with thoughts of the gala and what dress you were going to wear.

That next week you had settled on one and bought yourself a burgundy dress, a beautiful shade of red, one like expensive wine or fresh blood, a color that you knew looked good on you. It was a deep cut that went through the valley of your breasts, but if you pressed your arms inwards just slightly, which you fully intended to do, they would push up. It was a look classy enough for a gala, but still seductive enough to garner attention. 

Originally, you weren’t going to attend the function at all. This kind of stuff had always been boring for you, even as a child who was forced to go, but if Jonathan was going on your behalf then you sorta had to and definitely wanted to.

A ring sounded through your house. He was here. 

You opened the door and took a deep breath once you saw Jonathan. He was dressed in a neat suit, but not like the suit he was wearing when you last saw him. This one was charcoal black, silky, and smooth, with a white handkerchief in his outer breast pocket. His shoes were the same color and looked like they had just been shined, and in his hand was a bouquet of red roses.

“For you,” he said, placing them in your hands. His eyes swept over your figure, and his mouth parted for a moment. “It matches.” You huffed, secretly flattered. “But it’s such a shame.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.”

You blinked, and then tossed the flowers to the side, letting them fall into a patch of dirt (you were definitely going to pick them up later). “Like you’re such a piece of work.”

“I am,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Men and women love me.”

Despite how attractive you found him, you really didn’t believe that. You were sure his attitude warded most people off, and besides, he was an introvert and a criminal. Dating wasn’t just something people like him did often.

“We’ll see. This gala will be filled with attractive young bachelors. Get one interested in you and I’ll admit you're handsome,” you challenged.

“Admit?” He laughed, a beautiful laugh. “Admit implies that you already find me handsome, you just don’t want to confess so.”

This man needed to be slapped. He needed to be given a good, hard hit across the face.

“You know what? I feel like being alone tonight. I think I’ll just go to the gala without you.”

You were about to close the door, intending to head to your garage, but Jonathan grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside, shutting the door behind you.

“No takebacks. You promised. Where’s your honor?”

“Honor?” You scoffed. “I’m a killer, what did you expect?”

Jonathan must have really thought that you were going to leave because he gripped your wrist tighter. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “I’ll be good tonight.” He placed his index finger to his thumb with his free hand and made a zipping motion across his lips. “See?”

“You better be. I’m doing you a favor here. Now, come inside, we’ll take my car—”

“I have a car,” Jonathan said. “I even got us a driver.”

You took a peek over his shoulders. Sure enough, there was a fancy car waiting in the driveway, engine still on. It was difficult to see through the windows but you could make out the faint outline of a man in the driver’s seat.

“If you insist.”

He held out his arm for you to take, and while you did want to, you instead shoved it away. For a moment, you swore a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but it was gone too fast for you to be sure it was even there at all. 

“Where’s my invite?” he asked.

“You don’t have one. You’re going as my plus one.”

“As your date?”

“It’s not a date. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy. What’s with all this complaining?”

“I’m not complaining, I was expressing my feelings. You should work on that. As a psychiatrist, I recommend—”

“—I recommend you shut the fuck up.”

Jonathan put his hands up, surrendering, but he did so beaming.

It hadn’t taken too long to get to the party. Traffic was high as always, but time seemed to be flowing faster than ever, despite you and Jonathan staying silent.

When you arrived there was a line of cars. Wayne Manor, a building you had only been to twice before, was still as impressive as you remember. It was a collection of elegant architecture and stonework, with a large wooden entrance that opened up to a main hall. The size of the driveway and front lawn was a bit unnecessary, at least to you, but what else could you expect from old money? 

After getting out of the car you were greeted by cameras and reporters, lights flashing in your eyes, but you didn’t bother with them. 

Jonathan reached out his hand, and this time you did take it — but only because everyone was watching, and if you pushed him away it would have caused an unnecessary scene. Jonathan’s driver drove the car away for parking and you both walked inside.

The inside was spacious, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and people dressed classy, with gloves and diamond earrings, all mingling and chatting with each other about the stock market or their annoying ex-spouse or how it was such a bother when their vacation to Switzerland had to be canceled because of work. There was a tray of snacks and waiters walking around with luxurious drinks, something you immediately took advantage of.

“Thank you, sir,” you said politely, taking a glass of champagne, but before you could take a sip someone called out your name.

You turned around to see Bruce Wayne himself waving over to you, a boyish charm about him. He had two women on his arms, models or prostitutes, or both, you couldn’t tell, but they were drop-dead gorgeous. 

Your parents did business with him, and as a result, you met him at a young age. You were never really buddy best friends, but you went to the same school and that was enough for him to invite you to all his parties and greet you as though you were a family friend.

“You know Bruce Wayne?” Jonathan whispered, but before you could answer Bruce approached you both.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “This is Mila and Stephanie. Say hi ladies.” They giggled and waved as he gave the back of your hand a little kiss. “Gorgeous girl. You should wear these outfits more often, you truly look stunning.”

You let him put his arm around your waist, enjoying the compliment. 

“Oh, no,” you said modestly. “It’s just a dress.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Ah, don’t be like that, my darling. You look exquisite.”

You all but glared at him. Now he said you looked nice. 

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Bruce removed his arm from around your waist and held it out to shake Jonathan’s hand. 

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he responded, a little tense. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Jonathan’s actually doing some research into brain chemistry,” you said.

“Really? Tell me about it, Dr. Crane,” Bruce said, flashing a charming smile. 

“I would,” Jonathan responded, turning to you, “but I don’t wanna bore my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bruce repeated, eyes glancing at you. “ You’re a lucky guy. Tell me how scored such a beauty like her?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard.” Jonathan reached around and put his hand on your shoulder. “She was practically falling all over me.”

That was true, but your jaw still clenched. “He likes to exaggerate,” you told Bruce with a little laugh.

“Well, if you ever want to change things up a little, I’m right here.” Bruce winked comically, leaving with his girls.

You could tell Bruce wasn’t joking. It sounded like a serious offer, only told in a joking format so as to not rile Jonathan up, as he was under the impression Jonathan was your actual boyfriend.

“You’re a jealous mongrel,” you told Jonathan once Bruce was out of sight. You both walked over to a more secluded corner. “Can’t imagine the idea of having to share, huh? Had to go and make up stories?”

Jonathan scowled. “He was shameless around you. Be grateful I warded him off,” he said arrogantly. “And it’s not like you guys would have worked out. With what your hobby and all.”

You didn’t say anything. Jonathan was jealous, huh? You know felt a sudden urge to go after Bruce, get a little drunk, and follow him back to his room. It’s not like he wasn’t handsome, he was the most eligible bachelor in the city. And you did like him. He was funny and nice. Plus, you two had known each other for a long while. What a fun trope, especially if it was making Jonathan mad.

“A good fuck needs to work out only for the night.” You shrugged.

“You—you can’t,” Jonathan sputtered out. “You’re here with me, not him.”

“I don’t see the problem. I got you in the door and now you don’t need me anymore. What’s wrong if I have some fun?”

“You can’t.”

You waved him off, though you were enjoying the way he was pouting.

“Brat,” you muttered under your breath.

 “I’m not a brat.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Excuse me for wanting to spend the night with you.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You grinned devilishly. “Act like you want nothing more than to be here.”

Jonathan’s breathing hitched. Yours did too.

“You want it?”

“Don’t be scared.”

After you said that he didn’t hesitate to lean forward to give you a hard kiss, bringing his hand around the back of your head to push you both even closer together. He pulled away, his face still close to yours.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, like that,” you breathed out.

“I can give you more,” he whispered in your ear, his breath almost ticklish. “I know you want it. Been fantasizing about me all this time, hmm?”

You smiled coyly.

“For me to bend you over like the whore you are—”

“—Careful, Crane. I might just have to slap you.”

“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you. Fucking say it—”

You took a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was looking, which they thankfully weren’t, and then gave Jonathan a quick, harsh slap to the face.

The force of it made his neck turn, and his cheeks immediately turned red. He stayed silent for a moment, looking up at you through thick eyelashes, eyes narrowed in lust. It was all the conformation you needed to grab his chin, lift his face up, and give him another slap.

Before you could say anything else he pressed his lips up against you again, pressing you up against the wall passionately.

You backed away, and he furrowed his eyebrows, but all you did was grab his hand, feeling a frenzy of desire take over you. “Let’s go.” 

You dragged him through the sea of people and out a backdoor. There were a couple of people walking around in the garden, but you managed to find a place secluded enough for you and Jonathan. The ground was grassy and soft, and no one was walking by. Even if they did, they’d have to be purposefully looking for you two to see you both behind the trees and flowers.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

He grinned but did as you asked. “Here? Outside? You’re such a naughty girl.”

“Do you wanna wait until we get home?”

“No,” he said, a little too eagerly. “I want it now.” He sat up and tugged on your dress, running his hand up your leg. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, planting a few wet kisses on your thigh. 

You sighed contently, enjoying the affection he was giving you. This moment felt like a haze, like the world was just slipping by and you were stuck in time, a feeling that made you wonder if this was a dream or not. The evening sunset and dark sky weren’t helping either. It all felt perfect, too perfect.

“Mmm.” Jonathan reached up and hooked his fingers into your underwear. You snapped out of your trance and swatted his hand away.

“Getting a little touchy there, aren’t you?”

He smirked, looking up at you through thick eyelashes. “Just tryna please you, darling.”

You thought for a moment, then decided that you would let him eat you out.

“Alright then. Please me, Dr. Crane.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the name, savoring the way it rolled so delicately off your tongue. He lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. You kicked them off to the side and rested your dominant leg on his shoulder.

He pushed his finger against your folds, making a humming sound. “You’re so wet, darling.”

He leaned forward to suck on your clit roughly.

You lightly gasped at the pleasant sensation, bucking your hips into his face accidentally. You had meant to show more control, but how could you when Jonathan was so hungrily lapping? burying his face into your pussy like he was starved, passionately alternating between licking and sucking.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

His fingers, which had been gripping your hips, moved upward. As he continued to press his tongue against your clit his finger gently prodded your entrance, making sure that you were ready. He pushed his finger, curling it slightly. 

You stifled your moans, not wanting a passerby to catch you two in the act, but you were finding it difficult. He kept thrusting his finger in and out of you, adding another one just a minute later.

You threw your head back, eyes shut. You held his head for balance and relaxed, letting yourself go into a peaceful bliss. But then you felt Jonathan’s teeth nip your bud, biting into it deliberately, and you yelped.

Gripping his hair, you forced him to look at you. His mouth and nose were covered in your wetness, and his lips were curving up into a delightful smile.

 “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Mmm, I couldn’t help it, Ma’am.”

Instead of reprimanding him, you took the selfish route and pushed his face in between your legs, grinding onto his lips until you felt that familiar sense of elated happiness. You came all over him, your brain shutting off, or rather, getting overloaded at that euphoric, all-consuming release.

You let go of Jonathan’s hair, but he didn’t pull away. He licked up your cum, making your nerves feel overstimulated, but after he was satisfied, he stopped.

“You like that?” he asked.

“F-fuck, yeah.”

You grabbed your panties and put them back on, much to Jonathan’s dismay.

“Where are you going?” He got up, using his sleeve to wipe off the remaining juices on his face. You could see a tent, his cock poking out from under his pants. 

“Home, of course. And you’re coming with me.”

He shook his head vehemently, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his hard cock against your body. “Let’s finish this here. I can’t wait any longer. Don’t make me wait.”

“If you’re a good boy, you’ll wait.”

“I can’t,” he bitched desperately, hurriedly pulling down his pants. “I won’t. I’ve waited too fucking long.”

You grabbed his cock through the fabric, squeezing it tight in his hands.

His face contorted to one of pleasure and pain. “Huh!”

“You think you can just get what you want? After you’ve such a dick? Oh, ‘she was practically falling all over me’. ‘Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.’”

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it! You looked so beautiful, I was just trying to make you mad. Be nice . . . Pleaseee?”

You gripped it tighter and he whimpered. “See how pathetic you get the moment I show an ounce of authority? How you start to beg?  If I say something you do it. Do you understand?” He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted in pain. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” he choked out.

You let go. “Good boy. Now go call your driver and ask him to pick us up ‘round back. Unless you want everyone to see your erection?”

You gestured to the front of the manor, where through the bushes you could still see people enjoying the party. 

“No, no.” He called his driver, trying his best to cover his erection by interlocking his hands in front of his waist. “You’re a cruel goddess.”

While you two waited for the driver, you peppered sweet kisses along Jonathan’s neck, but when he arrived, you stopped, making him groan at the loss.

Throughout the drive back to your place, you ghosted your fingers over Jonathan’s lap, occasionally resting your hand on his length. Once the driver dropped you both off, you wasted no time in pushing him to your room.

He took off his clothes as did you, his white cock springing up furiously. It was just the right size, bigger and longer than average, almost so that you worried about having to fit it inside you.

His figure was lanky, but still muscled, just the way you thought it would be. You placed your fingers on his chest, twisting his nipples. He shuddered and took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. You shoved him down on your bed and he immediately spread his legs, giving you perfect access. 

“Want me to suck you off, Jon?” 

“Yes!” he said impatiently. “Just do it.”

You spanked his balls with your hand, carefully watching the way they bounced ever so slightly.

“Nghh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Do it whenever you feel like.”

Despite his words, you could see him waiting anxiously for you to touch him.

You did so, kissing the tip of his head and running your tongue through the slit, tasting the salty precum he was leaking. He hissed when you took his entire length. “Ah.”

You gripped your thumb so you wouldn’t gag and took him in all the way, hollowing out your cheeks. He thrusted up, deepthroating you for a hot second before he placed his hips firmly against the bed, not wanting to do anything that would upset you.

“So—so warm,” he stuttered out. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt, if your mouth is this fucking good.”

You would have said something, but your mouth was filled, busy bobbing up and down. He squirmed and moaned, shamelessly being as loud as he could. You could feel yourself getting wet again, but you controlled your urges for the sake of Jonathan.

He brushed your hair out of the way, scrunching up his face. “M’gonna — hnghhh — m’gonna come!”

That was when you pulled off of him.

It took a moment for him to realize what you were doing, but when he did, he wasted no time in complaining. 

“No,” he mewled, tearing up. “I’ve been such a good boy. Such a good boy.”

“Have you?” You giggled.

“I need you, I need this,” he moaned. “I’ve wanted you so bad — that’s why I came to you, that’s why I came to you and no one else. I didn’t even need the sponsors that bad, I just wanted to see you. I . . . I’m in agony,” he continued dramatically. 

“That’s sad.”

More tears ran down his cheek at your nonchalant words. He sniffled. “Please, stop that and just make me come!”

“Okay. I think you deserve it.”

But instead of putting your mouth back on him, you sunk onto his cock, slowly at first, so your pussy could get used to the size.

“Oh, fuck,” Jonathan cursed, placing one of his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. His other hand went up to play with your breasts, cupping and kneading them like they were pieces of dough. 

You started bouncing, a string of incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth. Jonathan sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing down your neck as you moved. 

“You feel so good,” you murmured, clenching around his cock. “I s-should have done this sooner.”

“Should’ve,” Jonathan agreed. “But — ah — we can always do this more often, yeah?”

Too blissed out to respond with words, you just nodded your head, resting your head in the crook of his neck. 

It didn’t take long for both of you to come after that. His hot load spurted inside of you and you came again, but this time on his cock.

He collapsed, exhausted from the sensations. 

You slowly got up, letting out a little wince as you felt his length leave you. You cuddled up beside him, caressing his cheek, wrapping you both in the blanket. He looked a little tired, and you didn’t blame him. So were you.

“You set my soul alight,” he said softly. “You always have.”

You wanted to ask him how deep his feelings ran, if this was just sex, or if it was something more, but when he fell asleep on your breast, you dropped the idea. He trusted you enough to let his guard down around you, and for now, that was more than enough.

The rest of the night was spent holding each other in your arms as you slept. When you woke up in the morning, he was still there, snoring softly like he was a peaceful angel.

You pulled him closer to you. “I’m never letting you go,” you murmured darkly. “Never.”

[romana-after-dark]

Dead Dove December 2023 Masterlist

Hello everyone!

So sorry it took forever to get this out, but it took me 5ever to read through these fics bc I was expresso depresso and working a lot LMFAOOOOOOO

Anyway, THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE ENTRIES!!! I adore you so so so so much. I am SO HAPPY with how this worked out and the amount of response! I hope to hold another event this March with @for-a-longlongtime at @triplefrontier-anniversary for the TF anniversary over at my main account @romanarose, and an event in June for pride, so if those interest you, follow my main page or this one, or @romana-updates

NOTE: I was unorganized so if I forgot someone's fic, IT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE. I know right now there discourse right now the Pedro fandom specifically, about different people not liking others or small writers or big writers ETC, but I want you to know no one was left out on purpose!

Note 2: If I put your fic here but forgot to reblog LET ME KNOW! I want to make sure everyone gets a chance to shine.

Without further ado, the fics and art!

ALL OF THESE ARE DARK SO SOME DEGREE FROM CNC, DUB CON, TO VIOLENT NON CON! HEAD WARNINGS!

The Last of Us

The Burglary by @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy: Two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

Fight Club by @anama-cara : Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way.

Deja Vu by @milla-frenchy : After a bad experience with a former boyfriend, you meet Joel who makes you trust him fully in the bedroom

Silent Night by @kewwrites : Despite the way he always acted around you, you find it hard to say no to Sarah when she invites you home to her dad's house for the holidays. Surely nothing would happen while she's with you.

Training Day by @koshkamartell : Set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous.

Code Broken by @auteurdelabre : You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

The Art of Breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads : Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

Cry Harder by @romana-after-dark : While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.

Nightmare Before Christmas by @katiexpunk : As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked.  Most of the time.  Tonight is not one of those times.

Locket by @toxicanonymity : Dark!Reader dugs her friends hot dad Joel

Run, Rabbit by @justagalwhowrites : It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

Godless by @javier-penas-wifexx420 : You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

Across the Spiderverse

After Dark by @runa-falls : He wants you. and he knows you need him.

Triple Frontier

Deep Seeded Issues by @djarinmuse: Summary: At an N.A (narcotics anonymous) meeting you recall a dark and embarrassing memory, not knowing the connection in the room.

My Blood Would Teach Me How to Love by @winniethewife : Santi finds you self harming, blood kink ensues.

Room's on Fire by @romana-after-dark : Cult AU, Pope, Frankie, Will and Ben are cult leaders and need a virgin to breed who will birth the savior: the Madonna. Initially honored to find redemption, the Madonna has to learn how to navigate all four men and a circle of other people at the house.

Goodnight, Princess by @melodygatesauthor : Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

The Card Counter

Bad Bet by @boredzillenial and art by @lunar-ghoulie4art : William beats you in a poker tournament, but you just can’t accept defeat, not yet…

Getting Whats Mine by @winniethewife

Lightening Face

Puppy by @darkuselesssomebody : In which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it

Mojave

Cruel Intentions by @hon3yboy : You're on a soul seeking journey, just another young, pretty, thing. All alone and stranded in the desert, ripe for the picking and ol' Jack has his eyes set on you.

Moon Kight

Death to Dignity by @juneknight : An intruder (Marc) breaks in to your apartment.

*************

I cannot thank you enough for your support and interaction for htis series!!!!! I had SUCH a good time reading all these, you are all so talented!!!

I hope to do more events soon as it's really helped me make some friends and get to know people here!!!!

Please remember to reblog these authors, and if you're tagged here, be sure to check out more! Lots of great content here!

[allysunny]

Hiii! Could you do 14+n with Bruce? 🤭 I know it takes a lot of effort to write but the fact that word count is a lot is not only bc he is bae (he’s the only man ever actually) but also bc YOU are suuuper talented. It’s insane. Anyway, than u in advance ❤️

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me” + Pregnancy + Bale!Bruce Wayne

Words: 4.1k words

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, a bit of crack (Bruce is so funny he could be a stand up comedian), Alfred is also hilarious, lots of protective Bruce and Alfred, it's just an overall very fluffy and sweet fic!! Not proofread though, so if I forgot anything, let me know!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's another entry from my 200 Followers Event! This was so fun to write oh my god!!! I am a firm believer in the fact that Bruce Wayne would be an amazing partner, and a very fun person to be around. I truly think he'd have the most beautiful relationship with his partner, and I tried to convey it here!

So, I hope this was up to your expectations, and that you love it as much as I do!!!!

ᴬˡˢᵒ ᵒᵐᵍ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿˢ, ᴵ'ᵈ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵛᵉʳʸ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ, ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ!!! ᴰᵃᵐⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗⁱᵃⁿ ᴮᵃˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˡᵒᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ ˡᵒˡ

The first thing you thought as you walked down the stairs of Wayne Manor was “We should get an elevator”, followed by “I’m never walking down these godforsaken stairs again”.

You weren’t lazy, not quite.

It was just extremely hard doing so now that your stomach was as big as a basketball.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the marble railing, sighing deeply.

“Look, I love you, I really do. You’re my little bundle of joy, and you’re not even here yet,” you mumbled, placing a small hand on your stomach to support it. “But you need to give your mommy a break, alright? I can barely walk, and your dad wants to put me in a wheelchair. And we’re stubborn, baby, we are. So, we gotta prove to him we’re still capable of doing things on your own. Thing you can do that?”

You were met with a weird sensation; one you’d felt countless times before. Your baby was kicking. You didn’t think that to be a coincidence – you liked to assume your child was replying to whatever you said. You spoke to him quite often, mumbling about your day, telling him about all the things you did at the Manor or whenever you were out and about. Bruce was pretty sure you were already the baby’s favourite since he seemed to calm his kicking fits pretty quickly whenever you spoke to him.

You smiled at your bump and caught your breath, making your way towards the living room.

Alfred was in the kitchen, brewing a small cup of tea. He placed it on top of a silver tray and came out of the room. Once he got a good look at you, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and he hurried to place the tray down and rush to your side.

“Madam Wayne, what in the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked, taking your arm. Alfred, just like Bruce, had taken a liking to assuming you weren’t even capable of opening water bottles by yourself. “I thought I told you to let me know once you came downstairs.” His tone was stern, but you could tell apart the layers upon layers of care.

“Alfred, if I take you up on that offer every time you make it, I’ll become spoiled. That’s not a message I want to pass on to my son,” you replied with a soft chuckle.

Alfred led you to the couch, where you sat down and groaned in relief. You were about 8 months pregnant, and absolutely huge, and everything felt terrible and uncomfortable. Bruce doted on you immensely, but you just wanted it to be over, wanted to get this baby out of you and into your arms.

“Your son is the heir to the Wayne name, Madam. I believe he will grow spoiled whether you like it or not.”

“Bruce will not be spoiling our child, Alfred,” you scoffed, “You know I won’t let him.”

“No one said anything about Master Wayne.” Was his reply, paired up with a cheeky grin.

You chuckled and tried leaning over to fetch the cup of tea Alfred had prepared. He of course did not let you, grabbing it before you had a chance to. He handed it to you with a soft “Here you go” and a cheeky smile.

Ever since you’d gotten pregnant, it was like Bruce and Alfred alike had made some sort of devilish deal to take upon themselves every burden and chore of yours. You were no longer allowed to do laundry, help Alfred with the dishes, tend to the garden, you weren’t even allowed to cook dinner for your husband anymore.

Instead, you were told to rest and not worry yourself and not tire yourself out.

It was annoying when Bruce did it, although you knew he had the best intentions at heart, but it was even worse when Alfred did it. Alfred, of all people. Your partner in crime, your close friend, the one who teamed up with you against Bruce, the one who made sure to always keep you in the loop of whatever was going on, the one person you knew you could trust in a sea of snobs and fake smiles (aside from Bruce, of course).

You often joked he’d betrayed you, no longer joining you to prank Bruce or get him to leave his office or his cave. No, now, it was the other way around, and you felt like you’d been stabbed in the back.

“One day you’re going to wake up, and I’m going to be shopping all by myself, far away from the both of you,” you sighed and sipped from your tea. It was your favourite and tasted as lovely as always – Alfred was almost like a magician.

“And risk giving Master Wayne a heart attack? What a loving wife you are.” Alfred replied smugly. “I guess true love really does manifest in the strangest of ways.”

“You’re a viper, Alfred,” you sighed. “A vicious, sneaky little viper.”

“Happy to be of service, Madam.”

You groaned.

That’s another thing you’d lost after the pregnancy – the privilege of having Alfred calling you by your actual name as opposed to any fancy titles. It had taken him a few years and a lot of begging from you; you were far too tired of “Mrs. Wayne” and you considered him more than a butler, but rather a friend, so why couldn’t he just address you by your name? And you’d managed to do it. Little by little, Alfred was calling you by your name, ditching the titles.

That was, until you said you were pregnant.

Now, not only you were back to titles, but you were also Madam.

When you’d asked Alfred why the sudden change, he said, “Not only you are Mrs. Wayne, but you are also carrying on the legacy of this family. You are Master Wayne’s wife, and now the mother of his children. It would be informal to refer to you as anything less than that.”

Safe to say, you were screwed.

You loved your guys, you did. Alfred played a huge role in your life, being friend and confidante and a father figure all at once. And Bruce was the love of your life.

But sometimes, all you wanted to do was strangle both to death.

“If you need anything, Madam, just call.” Alfred said before standing up.

“You know I won’t.”

“I know bloody hell you won’t, but I’ll be here nonetheless.”

You smiled and grabbed the book that was by your side, deciding on some light reading. The sun was shining brightly and casting a warm glow over the vast living room of Wayne Manor. You smiled at the sight. You loved peaceful afternoons like this, where the sun warmed your face and tickled your feet, and you could relax for a bit.

Today though, you were simply trying to pass time until Bruce arrived.

He was taking you out for a stroll in the park later, something you’d been begging for a while now, and you couldn’t wait.

It’s not like he kept you locked up inside the Manor – not at all. You were not a prisoner he held captive. He was just protective. Bruce had lost so much in his life; now that he had you and you were giving him a child, he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure you weren’t taken from him as well. He did not forbid you to go outside or carry on with your usual life – he was simply careful. Ever since you started showing, Alfred was to accompany you anywhere you needed to go, along with a bodyguard Bruce had hired just for you.

Bruce knew how cruel Gotham could be, and how vicious journalists and paparazzi could act just for a scoop, so he made sure to try and keep you safe, even if he wasn’t there to do it himself. And you had to admit, he’d been right. More than once had paparazzi tried to get pictures of your baby bump, or tried to interview you while you ran errands or shopped. It was draining, and you partly understood Bruce’s paranoia with your safety.

When you hit the 7-month mark and your belly had considerably grown in size, he was more alert than ever. You couldn’t leave the house without being accompanied, and if you wanted to go out at night, you had to let him know where and with who in advance. Not to control your every move (well, kind of to control your every move), but just to keep you safe, should he be out as Batman and couldn’t go out with you. And how could you not understand where he came from? Everyone knows poor Bruce Wayne’s story. Losing both his parents at a young age, being away from his own city for so long, leading an extremely lonely life all these years. He was not going to lose the one person that had brought him so much joy and hope for the future.

At first it had annoyed you a bit. “I’m pregnant, Bruce. I can still do things,” you had told him.

But one night, you caught him in your bedroom, shaking and crying. Earlier, you’d been intercepted by a few journalists – fanatics, more accurately – who’d cornered you against a wall and bombarded you with questions, even going as far as touching you, pushing you and pulling you so you’d be near their microphones and answer their questions. Bruce had been fetching your drink from a coffee chop nearby, while you waited for him outside (the line was long and it was bustling with activity, and Bruce did not want you near all the confusion), and he’d only caught sight of you when he came out, drinks in hand, and spotted your teary eyed expression, trying to get away from the reporters. The drinks were forgotten and spilled all over the sidewalk once they hit the floor, and Bruce was by your side in a flash, yelling at them and threatening them repeatedly. You were quick to hold onto him, terrified, and he wrapped his arm around you protectively, a cruel expression on his face.

And later when you got home, you’d caught him crying. You’d walked up to him and asked if everything was alright, and he had begged for your forgiveness. He kept mumbling about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten there on time, about how terrible of a husband he was, leaving you all alone on the street, and about how you didn’t deserve him.

You’d sighed and pulled him up to kiss his lips softly.

“You’re an amazing husband,” you’d whispered in the quietness of your bedroom. “The best I could have ever asked for. And you have nothing to apologize for. It’s fine. We’re fine. Please don’t beat yourself up over it, I beg of you.”

Bruce had taken your face in his hands and kissed you, promising without words to do better, to be better. You kissed him back, assuring him no promises were needed.

The following morning, every news channel was flooded with reports of numerous journalists being fired due to the harassment of Bruce Wayne’s pregnant wife.

You’d looked at Bruce over your coffee, and he’d smugly ignored you.

Bruce had taken the news of your pregnancy extremely well. Of course he’d moped and worried for a while, commenting on how he had a duty as Batman, but also as your husband, nearly trying to figure out a way to split himself into two jus so he was able to take care of both, but a serious talk with Alfred (which you overheard partially by accident) sent him on the right track.

From that moment onward, Batman wasn’t in the picture as much. He did not give the mask up altogether – Bruce wasn’t going to stop trying his best for the city, and he had to make sure the tabloids did not put one and one together (even though no one in the public eye would ever guess the Bruce Wayne to be the Dark Knight) – but his mind was always on you.

And perhaps it was a good thing because Gotham seemed to be flourishing. Crime rates had gone down, and people walked a bit more safely at night. It was a breath of fresh air, knowing that Gotham could be transformed like that. Besides, Bruce did not want to worry you. Worry and stress were terrible for the baby, so he promised he’d do his best to give you none.

So far, it had worked, and your relationship had never been better.

Speaking of the devil, Bruce walked inside the living room, loosening the knot on his tie. His face looked tired, and sported a frown, something that you picked up on almost immediately.

“Good afternoon, handsome.” You smiled at him, and could see the way his shoulders visibly relaxed, how his feet moved towards you like second nature, the way his frown was quickly replaced by a smile.

“Good afternoon, beautiful.” Bruce sat by your feet and took your hands in his, as he usually did. He bent over to kiss you tenderly and place a quick peck on top of your belly before asking, “How’s our little peanut doing?” He rubbed soothing circles on your skin, and you melted into his touch, as you often did.

“Very active, as always. Hasn’t stopped kicking and won’t let me walk two steps without expressing its discontentment.” You huffed, before realising the words that had just left your lips. “But I’m fine,” you were quick to add, “Extremely fine, and we can totally still go for a walk in the park. It’s fine. I’m fine. Honest.”

Bruce eyed you curiously, and you recognised in his eyes the look he always gave you when he was trying to read you. Right now, you assumed he was trying to figure out whether you meant it or not.

“I swear. I’m fine. He’s just active. Come on, help me up. Let’s go.”

“Darling, are you sure?” he asked, lovely brown eyes filled with so much concern it made your stomach churn a bit. You hated seeing him like this. You knew it wasn’t your fault though – neither was it his. He was just a good husband. “If you’re tired, we can stay in. Watch a movie, order some takeout maybe – “

“Bruce, I promise,” you repeated, cupping his jaw. “He’s just active. Takes after his father.”

“Whoever that may be,” he joked, earning a chuckle from you.

“Now, help me up. I’m huge and want to go for a stroll with my husband.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Bruce helped you stand up and wrapped his arms around you. He brought you close and kissed you properly this time, lips trailing over yours as his tongue explored your mouth. Your hands came up to cup his cheeks and you smiled into the kiss, sighing in delight.

“Are you trying to distract me, Mr. Wayne?” you asked, peeking through your lashes.

“Maybe. Is it working?” he replied.

“Maybe. But not entirely. Come on. The weather is really nice today, and I really don’t wanna miss it. I’m going to get extremely upset with you if you kiss me out of going for a stroll. And you won’t like me when you’re mad.”

“I already don’t,” Bruce gave you one last peck and took you by the hand, leading you to the garage.

Bruce had to admit, the weather was nice.

The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot to scald either of you. Birds were singing (something he had never heard before in Gotham), and flowers were in bloom. It was the perfect afternoon, and he was extremely glad he’d taken it off to be with you.

Speaking of you, you sat next to him, eating strawberries, and admiring the view in front of you. You loved this park – it was where you’d first met Bruce – and came here often, relishing in the pretty scenery and the calmness of it all. Gotham could be bustling with energy and light and noise, and while you’d come to grow fond of it (after all, it was home), you also appreciated those moments of quiet you managed to steal whenever you could.

“What about Benjamin?” you asked, turning to him. You were as radiant as ever, the light of the sun bathing your face in an ethereal glow. Bruce was sure that if angels existed, this is what they would look like. He caught sight of some strawberry juice dripping down your chin and collected it his finger, taking it to his mouth afterwards to lick it clean.

You wrinkled your nose.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Oh now, is it?” Bruce asked, feigning innocence. “Because I’m pretty sure last night, you asked me to – “

��What about Benjamin?” you repeated. Only this time, slightly louder, and with heat spreading across your cheeks.

Bruce chuckled and moved closer to you so he could steal a kiss. You tasted like strawberries and love, and he wanted to freeze this moment forever.

“Benjamin.” He repeated once he pulled away for breath, lips inches away from yours.

“It’s sweet. We could call him Ben.” You said with a soft smile.

“Benjamin when we’re angry.”

“Bruce!”

“You’re going to have my child; do you seriously expect him to be an angel?” He asked with a quirked brow.

“Ah, so now it’s your child.”

“It’ll be yours every time he gets in trouble.”

“With a father like you, I wonder if there’s ever going to be a time where he doesn’t.”

The two of you laughed and Bruce swore his heart was going to burst from all the love he felt. For a long time, he’d led a mostly lonely life, going to parties, and pretending to be a womanizer, a new model or actress on his arm whenever his photo was taken. It was sad, but necessary if he wanted to keep his Batman persona a secret. Only Alfred was allowed in, seeing as Bruce had no living relatives or any close family. He had Rachel, of course, but they didn’t speak as much as they used to, seeing as she was now engaged to Harvey Dent.

And then you came along.

And his lonely, monochrome life was turned upside down and splashed with colour.

Events and galas were now much more enjoyable because he had you by his side to talk to, kiss whenever no one was looking and make fun of all the high society extravagances he did not associate himself with. No longer did he wake up to silky white empty sheets, but a lovely woman who snuggled close and kissed his jaw and made him giggle and laugh and feel loved. So very loved.

“Anyway, I’m not sure I like Benjamin,” he said, tugging a lock of hair behind your ear and taking the opportunity to run his fingers through your radiant face. Up close, he could see the details of your face, the way your lashes framed your pretty eyes, how they sparkled in the sun. You were the loveliest woman he had ever laid eyes upon. “Any other ideas?”

“Theodore? We can call him Theo.”

“Theodore?”

“Nathaniel. Nathan.”

“I am going to divorce you.”

“All it took was bad baby names? Crap, I would’ve done this way sooner if I knew that’s how I got to get rid of you.”

He snorted and stole another kiss, cupping your cheek with his palm. You were man and wife, but most importantly you were friends. You were his best friend, his greatest confidante and partner in crime. There was no awkwardness between the two of you, never had been beside that small nervous feeling on your tummy during the first few dates. After that, you both became inseparable, and all nervousness was out the window. That’s why you could joke around so much – you trusted each other.

But of course, these were all jokes. Bruce worshiped the ground you walked on, and you loved him more than your own life. No matter how many jokes you cracked about situations like this, you were deeply in love with each other. At first, Bruce was a bit unsure about the jokes. He was afraid that deep down, you would mean any of the things you told him. But after a lot of reassuring, he realised it was simply your friendship blossoming even more. You were still friends. Only now, you were married.

After a while of kissing and stealing a taste of the strawberries you’d been eating earlier, he pulled away and smiled.

“Actually…” you started, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Scary stuff.”

You chuckled.

“About a name.”

“Doesn’t make it less scary.”

You pushed him jokingly and he kissed you once more, swiping his tongue over your lower lip and earning a sigh from you.

“I wanted to run it through you first.”

“Alright, hit me with your best shot.”

You took a deep breath and nodded once, before turning to face him again.

“Thomas.”

It took a while for Bruce to react. Thomas. You were thinking about naming your son Thomas. Like his father. He felt a flurry of emotions surge within him. First, he felt melancholy at the reminder that his father wouldn’t be here to watch his grandson grow. Nor would his mother. After that, he felt hurt. His son would grow up without a regular family. And then, all of the pleasant and positive emotions settled into his chest and he found himself smiling. He felt gratitude for you. He was so grateful to have you by his side. And then he felt happiness. Pure, sheer, raw happiness. He was so happy to be your husband. So lucky. So grateful.

“Thomas.” He repeated.

“Thomas. Tom.”

“Tommy.”

“Little Tommy Wayne.”

“Thomas Wayne.”

“Junior.”

“Junior?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you gesticulated, “After your father. Junior. Is that not how it works?”

“I think I would have to be Thomas in order for our son to be Junior.”

“Really? I thought you just added that to whoever. Thomas the second, then.”

“We’re not naming our son Thomas the second.” Bruce scoffed.

“Technically, he’ll be Thomas the second, you know.”

Bruce laughed again, and you smiled. How you loved seeing your husband smile. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Bruce was a beautiful person. Not just a beautiful man. A beautiful person. He was kind and caring, and extremely funny, and even though no one else in Gotham knew, he risked himself nearly every night to keep Gotham City safe. He was perfect. And all you ever wanted was for him to be happy.

The day you told him you were pregnant, you were sure your heart was going to burst with joy at the sight of him. He hugged you tightly, kissed your breath away, opened the windows and screamed out loud that he was going to be a father, wept a little, kneeled in front of you and kissed your stomach – the whole shebang.

And it almost made you weep with joy, because if your beloved husband was happy, what else could you possibly want?

“I love it,” he murmured, and you could spot the vulnerability in his gaze. It made you melt. It made you feel special, because you knew you were one of the only two people who Bruce allowed himself to be vulnerable with. Made you love and treasure everything you’d built together even more. “Thank you. I think it’s beautiful. Thank you so much. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Have I ever told you this?”

“You have. Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it, though,” you smiled and sat up straighter so you could take his jaw in your hand. He turned his face and softly kissed your palm, which sent butterflies flying in your stomach – or perhaps that’s just your son. “I love you too, Bruce. So much. And I love our little family. Even if we haven’t gotten to meet our little Tommy yet.”

“I love our family too,” Bruce replied, before stealing another kiss. “And I’m sure we’ll be immensely happy. I already am.”

“Me too.” Another one.

The two of you remained like that for a while, talking, smiling, giggling, and stealing strawberry kisses from each other (not that you needed to steal – you could take anything from Bruce, and he wouldn’t mind) and watching as the sun slowly set, bathing Gotham in soft twilight.

And you knew, as the breeze blew, and you sat next to the man you loved, that the world could throw just about anything your way. Unknowingly to you, he was thinking the exact same thing. And as you looked into each other’s eyes and smiled, you knew. You knew that as long as you were together, you would be fine.

A/N: And that's it! I know the ending is super cheesy, but I just love happy and cheesy endings... They make me all warm and fuzzy inside, and Bruce definitely deserves one!!!

Alright!!! I'll see you guys on my next drabble!!!

I hope you have a wonderful day ahead!!! <3

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Twelve

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: Angst. Pure angst. Cursing.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho, claudiahxrdy , @christianbalefanatic, @librarianafterdark​,  @rosegxoxo​

Author’s Note: This chapter is dedicated to the anon who wrote me and said they got so into reading this series that apparently, their mom whoop their ass. I apologize for past and any future ass whooping.

A silence was shared between Demetria and Alfred as they waited on bated breath for Bruce’s return.

Demetria twirled the pendant of her necklace as Alfred checked his watch every few minutes or so. The old man’s eyes shifted to the young woman.

“What exactly did Master Wayne tell you about the night his parents were murdered?” Alfred questioned.

She thought for a moment. “Just that they were leaving the theater when some guy from the mafia shot them down in an alley,” she recalled. “He told me the name but it’s escaping me at the moment.”

“Did he ever tell you that it was Gordon who found him?”

She shook her head. Alfred went on. “Gordon called me that night and told me he had Bruce in his office. He offered to bring Bruce to his house and then drop him off in the morning. I assured I could pick up. When I arrived, Gordon was with Bruce in his office. Another officer said Gordon wouldn’t let anyone else near him. Made sure he knew that that boy was safe with him. I suppose he might’ve forgotten that, but I can assure you, Bruce hasn’t.”

The weight of the situation felt clearer. It also made sense to Demetria as to why Gordon was Batman’s confidant. Bruce trusted Gordon.

The grumble of the platform rising down to the Batcave broke the silence, the two watching intensely.

Bruce kept his eyes to the ground, rolling his motorcycle to where he kept his other transports. Demetria and Alfred watched his every move when the old man gently nudged Demetria.

“I’m going to let you handle this one,” he whispered.

She gave a nod. The old man turned to Bruce. “I’ll meet you back at the penthouse, Master Wayne.”

Alfred was met with silence. Demetria mouthed “thank you” as the old man gave her a reassuring smile.

She turned her attention to Bruce, watching as he made his way to the desk. He leaned over the desk table, his head hung low.

Her heart fell to her stomach and she wondered if she was up for this challenge. She made her way toward him. What seemed so natural felt so awkward. She feared being clingy or overtaking his space, but still yearned to show love and support.

“Bruce,” she spoke up. She stood behind him, but gave him enough space as to not crowd him.  “This isn’t your fault.”

He didn’t look at her. “Joker wouldn’t exist without Batman.”

“Given Gotham’s history, I kind of doubt that.”

He turned to her as she flashed an apologetic smile. She took his hand in hers, quietly surprised he accepted it. “You knew when you took this on that there were going to be days like these. Unfortunately, this one was personal and I get it. I meant it when I said I’m here for you. But that doesn’t mean I’m also going to sit here and let you blame yourself.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “And I don’t think Gordon would want you to blame yourself either.”

He pulled her to him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. His forehead rest against hers as he melted in her arms and touch. There was something about the way Demetria would touch or hold him that brought out a vulnerability in him that he had pushed away since the death of his parents. She knew how to make him feel a peace he had sworn he’d never feel again.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, loud enough for Demetria to listen.

She pulled back and held his cheek in her hand.

“Don’t say that, ok?” she said. “I’m serious, Bruce. I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. If you don’t want me saying it, I don’t want you saying it. Understood?”

He nodded, taking her hand off his cheek and gently pressing his lips inside the palm of her hand.

“I need to be alone,” he told her gently. “Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

She nodded understandingly. “You get home safe as well, ok?”

“I promise.”

================

She turned on the shower when she heard her cell ring. She looked to see the caller ID. 

She contemplated answering, but given what happened hours earlier declining it didn’t sit well with her. She turned off the shower and answered. “What Harvey?”

“I need to see you. Can you come down here so we can talk?”

She sighed. “I’ll send you upstairs. It’s safer up here. Bruce isn’t home.”

“I don’t-.”

“If you’re not gonna listen to me, then stop wasting my time because it already cost you a life today.”

Her tone was laced with a kind of venom she had never used on him before. She was surprised he didn’t yell at her or even hang up, indicating whatever it was had to be serious.

“Please let the front desk let me up,” he sighed.

“Fine.”

She hung up and dialed the front desk. After informing the front desk to let Harvey through, she set the phone down on the bathroom counter. She changed into black sweatpants and a grey turtleneck.

“Heads up, Harvey is coming in for a moment,” she informed Alfred as she walked past the kitchen.

“I assume I shouldn’t offer him tea or water?” the old man remarked.

She smiled before opening the door to see Harvey standing there. “What do you want?”

“Can we talk inside please?” he asked, a slight annoyance in his tone.

“We can go out on the balcony.”

She motioned for him to follow her. She led him outside and then turned to him again.

“You were right.” he sighed. “You were right and I’m sorry.”

Her eyes met the ground, lips pursed back. “I know you are. But I also know you enough to know there’s a favor you’re about to ask me so let’s just skip right to it.”

“I need to keep Rachel safe and she says this is the safest place in the city,” he said. “While I’m not completely convinced she’s safe here given what happened last time she was here and what happened to you at the party, I have to trust her. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I trust you more than I trust anyone right now.”

“Is it because no one else is around or did you finally get your head out of your ass?”

Impatience filled the sigh he let out. “Demetria-.”

“Gordon’s dead because you and the mayor just had to have your little parade-.”

“The Joker is coming for Rachel.”

Demetria stepped back, her anger subsiding to shock.

Harvey shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “One is his goons was disguised as an office at the memorial. His name plate said Dawes.”

It was her turn to sigh. “Oh shit.”

“I need you to promise me you won’t let her out of your sight,” he pleaded.

She nodded her head. “Of course. Whatever it takes.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Does she know?”

“I told her.”

“Ok. Yeah. She’s good here.”

He went to make his way out, when Demetria said,“Harvey?”

He turned around.

“Do you remember what you told my dad the first night the three of us had dinner? He asked you why you wanted to stay in Gotham, and you told him it was because you wanted to give the city hope for a better, safer future. That’s what he liked about you, the fact you actually cared and you meant it.”

She paused. “When that Harvey comes back, let me know.”

With that, she walked past him and into her room. She grabbed her cell phone and texted Bruce.

Call me when you can.

=====================================

Demetria stepped out of the shower and into the bedroom when she heard the distant sound of voices from the other side of the door.

Not only did Rachel arrive, but it sounded as though Bruce had as well.

Demetria changed into black flared yoga pants and a matching zip up hoodie.

Walking out of the bedroom, she noticed Bruce and Rachel confined to the back corner of the living room. While normally she didn’t bat an eye to their close relationship, something about this moment felt oddly intimate and that her presence was bound to ruin it.

“Everything alright?” Demetria spoke up.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond when Rachel beat him to the punch. “Bruce, has something he needs to discuss with you.”

She motioned to Bruce, whose eyes fixated on the floor. “You need to be have this conversation with her,” she lectured him.

“If this is about him being Batman, I already know,” Demetria reassured.

“It’s not that,” Bruce said, looking up. He turned to Rachel for moment before turning to Demetria. “I am turning myself in tomorrow.”

Six words formed a punched that knocked her out in seconds. Her mouth fell open slightly, body frozen still.

“Thats it?” she questioned, her voice low. “You’re not gonna discuss with it me? I don’t get a say in this?”

“There’s nothing to say, Demetria. I already made up my mind. What else is there to discuss?”

Once again, his words packed a punch, this time in the gut. She was beginning not to recognize her own fiancé.

“You’re kidding me, right?,” she scoffed. “What about the fact that the city wants your head because they think you’re responsible? What about the fact that The Joker could come after Alfred or Lucius or Rachel or me just for being associated with you. You turn yourself in, you put your love ones in danger.”

“Demetria-.”

“NO!”

The room fell to an immediate, harsh silence. It was a kind vitriol neither Bruce nor Rachel had seen from Demetria. Even Demetria was taken back by her tone. But she stayed firm, even as her heart raced and stomach churned. The young woman shook as she pointed a finger at Bruce.

“I am sick of being talked down to by men, especially by the ones who are supposed to have my back!” she screamed.

The rage and fury inside her made her dizzy, but she persisted. She had to.

“What don’t you get?! He won’t stop even if you turn yourself in. He will not stop even if he has full control of the entire city. He won’t stop because he has nothing to lose, unlike you. You will lose everything. You reveal yourself, you lose your life. You lose Alfred, you lose Rachel, you lose the city. Investors will pull out of Wayne Enterprises. Funding for your charities, including the orphanage is gone. Everything you fought for, your parents fought for is gone.”

“What about you?” he inquired. “Do I lose you?”

Hot tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t answer. Any strength she had left was gone, unavailable to be used.

Bruce gave a nod.  “My decision is made.”

That was it. The final twist of the knife. She was about to turn when she when she felt him grab her hand.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she seethed, poisonous venom laced in her tone.

Bruce’s eyes stayed on her, almost pleading. Demetria tried to pull away but he pulled back. Rachel, having seen enough, pulled his hand away.

Demetria’s face softened to Rachel, giving her a thankful nod. She went into their shared bedroom, slamming the door and locking it.

[mlmxreader]

Our Little Game | Bane x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Bane: Hiya! Hope alls well 🖤. May I please give you a request to use the following prompts for big tiddy Bane X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "Off ya go, bugger off"+"Don't roll your eyes at me" (Idk, I wanna see a sassy reader with this man 😆) Thank you very much 🖤! 🐍anon

summary: Bane loves you, he just doesn't love your smart mouth.

tws: swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

By all means, Bane had attempted to be quiet when he snuck into your home in the middle of the night; the dogs greeted him warmly, wagging their tails and trying to lick his hands and his mask, making him laugh softly as he pushed them aside gently.

He shook his head fondly, leaving his boots by the door he had come through before he carefully and expertly made his way through to your bedroom; he made sure to lock the door behind him, swallowing thickly as he crept towards the bed. To his shock, you were wide awake; he had hoped to surprise you, but seeing you awake, it made for a better surprise.

At least if you were awake, you wouldn’t have told him to shove his surprise where the sun didn’t shine; but you didn’t notice he was there with your earphones in and staring at the laptop screen. You were watching something, but he couldn’t see what. He checked his phone, and sent you a text telling you to look away from the screen; when you looked at your phone, it only took a few seconds before your gaze snapped over to Bane; you scoffed. 

“I’m watching something,” you told him with a shake of your head. “I’ve been dying to watch it for over a year, so please, fuck off, my love.”

“You’re not even happy to see me,” Bane teased, waiting for you to move over before he clambered on the bed beside you, his arm around your shoulders as he leaned in slightly. “And I put in so much effort.”

“Well, try again tomorrow,” you said seriously. “Off ya go, bugger off, now. Let me watch my thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Watch your mouth, little one.”

“First, don’t roll your eyes at me,” you huffed. “Second, it’s your own fault.”

Bane growled under his breath, grabbing your laptop and gently setting it on the floor before he straddled your waist; his mask felt suffocating, knowing that he could never kiss you like a normal man. He could never bite down and leave his mark all over you for everyone in Gotham to see; for everyone to look at each mark and know that you belonged to Bane, and only Bane.

His mask felt suffocating, knowing that he was limited with what he could do. But he tutted as he shook his head, pinning your arms above your head as he tilted his head to the side; darkness was on his side, as it meant that you couldn’t predict his next move, rendering that smart mouth silent for once.

He let out a soft breath, holding onto your throat with his other hand but not daring to apply any pressure; the line between teasing and threatening increasingly blurred as you licked your lips, eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh no, I’ve been caught,” you laughed, sarcasm would only make things worse. “What ever shall I do? Surrender to the big, bad man who broke the Bat’s back?”

Bane shrugged. “You could do that - it would be much easier for us both, little one.”

“I don’t think so, big guy,” you whispered, grinning. You wrenched your hands free from his grip, knowing that it was never exactly a hard grip to begin with. “What are you gonna do? Gag me?”

“I’m considering it,” Bane admitted with a nod. “More and more each time you open that smart mouth.”

You hummed, shaking your head with disappointment. “You won’t muzzle me. You like my smart mouth too much.”

He hated that you were right, sighing heavily as he sat back a little. “Your mouth will be the end of me, my love.”

You shrugged, laughing softly. “You love it, really.”

He sighed heavily. You were right, he hated to admit it, but you were right. He had to find a way to shut you up somehow, so he did the only thing he could think of - and gently, expertly, pressed his mask against your mouth. He felt your hot breath against the metal coming through to his skin, and could tell that you were kissing him back.

Smugly, Bane laughed under his breath as his hands trailed down, grabbing your thighs as he leaned in a little more; it was the best he could do, although he wished that he could kiss you properly. Actually feel your lips on his and taste them. But when you wrapped your arms around him, your hands at the back of his neck, he found he stopped caring; when he pulled back, he brought you with him, lying you down on the bed without even meaning to. 

“Is that it?” You asked, raising a brow. “Please tell me there’s more.”

He sighed heavily, wishing he didn’t love you so much. No one else would have gotten away with such backchat, with constantly poking him and chipping away at him until he took the bait; but you knew that Bane would never hurt you, you knew he would never treat you badly.

So you flaunted the fact that you were so immune to his violence, so immune to being killed for things he had killed his henchmen for even thinking. You danced with danger, and every time, you came out on stop.

“Can I watch my thing?” You asked. “C’mon, all you gotta do is bugger off for a bit!”

He grumbled, a long breath leaving him as he fondly shook his head. “What’s the matter? You can’t finish what you started?”

You grinned at him, shaking your head. “You should know better than that, big guy.”

He pressed his hand to your throat again, able to feel your easy and steady pulse. Anyone else’s heart would have been racing like a rabbit’s - but not yours. You knew Bane too well, you knew the game you were playing and the dance you were doing.

He hated that smart mouth of yours, he really did, that smart mouth would undoubtedly get you into trouble one day - but for now, he could laugh softly, and he could keep playing your game. 

[anitalenia]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. ₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ✧˚ ༘

— 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝘥𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

˚☽˚｡⋆ 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑. The silence was too loud and his room was too cold — his arms and torso were left bare to freeze thanks to you (he was too much of a gentleman to snatch the blanket off you anyway). The heavy rain smacked into his windows pointedly and purposefully; with every loud drop it made his lip twitch in annoyance.

The air was sharp and frosted, it burned his nose when he breathed in too deeply and it made him wonder if Alfred forgot to turn the heat on — better yet if you turned it off, knowing you hated to fall asleep too warm and Alfred was too meticulous and thorough to forget to turn it off at all.

It was dingy and dismal, dark and dreary just as Bruce preferred it to be, so little going on for him to be so awake and agitated but yet… maybe that was just it. The silence, the boredom, the macabre sense of monotony on an unfamiliarly quiet Saturday night — so little going on it was driving him mad.

Bruce stared up at the ceiling with his arms laid out on his shirtless stomach, restless but tired. His limbs were sore and heavy, his body bruised and battered, yet his dark eyes couldn’t help but flicker over to his window ever so often when he thought about what was on the other side of it — the source of his calamity.

He’d stare through the droplets of water at the blurred kaleidoscope of lights as they shone onto his floor, not eagerly per say just habitually; Bruce seldom ever saw a peaceful night in, so unaccustomed with the sweet domesticity of crawling under the covers at 10:30 pm and kissing your lover goodnight — he was usually so busy, for Gotham never slept and crime never seemed to stop.

No, Bruce couldn’t sleep; his thoughts a morbid mess of batman-esque obligation that made it impossible to close his eyes.

You were a different matter entirely as Bruce turned his head to look at you; snuggled up on your side of the large bed with his thick, black comforter surrounding you, breathing gently on the muscle of his shoulder and sleeping soundly, beautifully.

His pretty little wife.

His eyes looked over the sharp shadows of your sleeping beauty. From your wispy eyelashes, to your cute little nose, to your softly parted lips, a soft smile adorning the corner of his mouth as he did — he couldn’t help it.

Your hair was frizzy and tangled messily around your head, your soft breaths ever so often stuttered with an adorable snore but Bruce couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked anyway as he raked his eyes over your face fondly.

As he did he realized how grateful he was that you didn’t need to worry yourself with the things that he did; you were too innocent for the cruelty of Gotham City, too pure and divine; an angel wrapped in wicked tapestry.

Even now, in your pale white pajamas on black silken sheets you looked too fragile for them, like they could wrap their shadowy arms around you and swallow you whole — just as the city could so easily do if he wasn’t there to protect you.

If Batman wasn’t there to save you.

I don’t care, Bruce. I love you anyway.

That’s what you’d always say when Bruce would settle down in bed beside you with a heavy sigh and whisper why do you stay?, on those long nights when he’d come home brutally battered and fatigued. After a night of being heavily reminded to the real dangers waiting just outside his door like a pack of feral dogs and how easily they could ensnare you in their jaws.

I don’t care. I love you.

He loved you too, he really very did.

With that final thought, Bruce was still caught staring at you with a soft look of love on his face when you gently fluttered your eyes open, your body sensing his awareness before your mind could.

He watched patiently as you groggily looked around before eventually meeting his gaze, his eyes getting even softer at the adorable look of confusion on your face.

Your eyes tiredly looked back up at him despite the darkness surrounding you two, able to see his frowned lips and dark eyes clearly, “Bruce? Why are you still awake?”

Your voice was raspy and tired, a small yawn following your statement that made pity tear at his heart for waking you up.

Bruce ran his hazel eyes over your face some more before he responded, unable to stop cherishing you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He simply responded, voice low and intimate, words spoken in the bare space between his lips and yours.

You settled into your silken pillow with a small huff, eyes focused more on Bruce’s face now as the grogginess gradually melted away and your vision became clearer — the silence and rain thrumming calmly around you. It wasn’t a normal night in Gotham City without the rain.

“Well, did you try?” You teased just as quietly as he, smiling a little at the chuckle he gave you in response.

“Yes, of course I tried. It clearly didn’t go as planned.” Bruce mumbled back with a faint snicker, speaking just loud enough so you can hear him over the rain pattering on the windows, a small smile now quirked on his sharp lips.

You hummed in acknowledgment, eyes looking between his, knowing Bruce well enough to know when he was lying.

“I don’t really believe you. What’s keeping you awake?” You sighed with furrowed brows, resting your head right next to his bare shoulder to look up at him better — maybe if you pouted in that cute way he liked he’d tell you honestly.

Bruce faltered at that, looking down at you with a heavy heart; he couldn’t possibly tell you that he felt guilty laying in bed with you when he should’ve been out there, out there protecting those who needed him. But the fact of the matter, one he couldn’t argue with, was that you needed him as well.

He couldn’t possibly tell you how conflicted he really was but probably shouldn’t have been; two parts of him sharing the same mind and body but each with entirely different obligations — the irreconcilable duality that was he.

One part of him was Bruce Wayne; millionaire, orphan, husband, you needed that side of him, you deserved to have him for at least one night. But he was also Batman, and Gotham always needed him.

He was haunted with a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde but instead of one side lusting for murderous intent his alter ego longed for rightful justice in the grandest city of injustice. Batman was the only one who could live harmoniously in the dark, the only one capable of doing the things he did. It was an enervative dichotomous life of matrimonial duties and moral obligation.

There were two men sharing the same halves of the same soul and Bruce couldn’t decide which heart to listen to without making the other one feel guilty.

“Just work stuff, honey. It’s nothing you need to worry about, trust me.” Bruce dismissed after a short moment, shaking his head gently with a reassuring smile on his thin lips — like that could convince you of anything.

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, registering the slight blue bags under his eyes and the crippled fault in his smile, all small clues of his devious, well-intentioned deception.

“Which work stuff?” You prodded carefully, raising a brow at him as suspicions already began to brew in the back of your mind as to what he was really referring.

Bruce chuckled again at that, loving your caring and inquisitive nature any day but wishing you’d just drop it already. He really couldn’t bear weighing any of the pressure he carried on your delicate shoulders, fearing you’d crumble under the weight of it.

“Really, it’s…” Bruce looked back up at the ceiling in indecision, searching for the right words, “it’s nothing I can’t handle, okay?” He looked back down at you with confidence, his voice firmer than before but still softly spoken to get his point across.

You narrowed your eyes at him with that, knowing it was a response you fully expected but were still annoyed to hear.

You were aware that he was lying to you but also aware that he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you begged him; he never liked to tell you anything about his Batman related problems and it greatly frustrated you for some reason.

As his wife didn’t you deserve to know at least something? You were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his long awaited proposal. After all, you didn’t just marry Bruce Wayne but you married Batman as well… you could handle the truth even if he didn’t seem to think so.

You sighed anyway, unable to mask your irritation towards him for keeping you in the dark. Your lack of sleep didn’t help the influx of annoyance either.

You took your head off his warm shoulder and went to turn around away from him, your fatigue easily irritating you more than usual.

Bruce licked his lips and sighed, having already disappointed you in an attempt to protect you; a small price to pay if it meant your pretty little head wasn’t clogged with constant, pained disquietude like his was.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” You muttered more to yourself than anything, fussing with the blanket you had wrapped yourself in during your slumber and now seemed to be stuck in.

Before you could fully turn around though Bruce laid a warm, consoling hand on your forearm that made you pause, “Hey, hey, wait.”

You lingered a moment at the feel of it before turning back around to face him, expression a little more sour than before — tired and impatient.

Bruce felt guilt swirl in his stomach at the look on your face, knowing he was disappointing you but also knowing it was for the best.

He kept the hand on your arm, leaning up and wrapping it around your back to bring you into his chest, his other arm going behind your neck and tucking you into his side like you were his most precious doll — you were of course.

You didn’t fight him even if you wanted to, enjoying the warmth he provided and the safety you subconsciously sought out snuck tight in between his arms.

“Bruce.” You grumbled anyway as you settled against him, his arm releasing you for a moment to pick the blanket up and over his waist so there was nothing separating you two from each other.

You felt hard plains of muscle underneath you when he did, a flustered pinkness appearing on your cheeks, then slowly crept in hot embarrassment at the fact that your husband’s carefully structured body that you’ve seen many many times still managed to make you shy.

You melted into his side, albeit a bit stiffly as you were still annoyed with him and wanted to blatantly show it, your arms stubbornly slotted against your chest to separate yourself from laying completely on his.

When Bruce was done adjusting the blanket, the bed moving as he did, he settled still and looked down at you with those kind eyes of his you loved so much, the ones that always flustered you when you stared back into them for too long.

The arm behind your neck pushed you closer to him while he took his right hand and wrapped it around your chin, his palm so warm and big against your jaw that you couldn’t help but sigh in submission.

Bruce gently forced you to look up at him, his eyes staring down at you softly but earnestly.

“Alright, hey, don’t be like that with me. If there was something I thought you really needed to know I’d tell you. Otherwise, it’s best I keep that side of myself as private from you as possible. I hate the thought of you being in danger because of me, because I exposed you to that side of myself you didn’t need to see.” Bruce whispered genuinely, minty breath fanning over your nose as you stared up at him, seemingly calm now and even just a little regretful for being so upset with him in the first place.

“Just give it a rest honey, alright? I promise you, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Do I ever go back on my promises, hmm?” He said sweetly, looking down at you with insistent but loving eyes in the expectation of you responding.

You paused for a moment as you registered his words, still curious to know what he was really thinking about because you just couldn’t help it. You worried for him, wished he’d be more open with you so you could help him in whatever way you could. However, you also didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was either, your mind picturing all the purple bruises littering his beautiful body pitifully.

So, you just shook your head like a scolded child, “No… you don’t.” You’d have to bite your tongue for now, pouting up at him cutely — Bruce was just too sweet to argue with sometimes and he knew it.

Bruce gave you a charming smile, gray shadow washed over the angles of his straight nose and narrow cheeks. His brown hair was more unkempt than usual, wavy tendrils of it fallen around his face. He looked so handsome, more tranquil this way, as he leaned down and gave you a peck on the forehead, a sweet hum sounding in the back of his throat.

“That’s my girl.”

You sighed happily, giving in to him completely now and wrapping an arm around his chest so you could burrow against him; he wrapped his arm around you tighter instinctually, enjoying the feel of you against him as he looked up at the ceiling in content.

Nothing was better than being with you, so much so that Batman himself felt satiated from his lonely perch in the back of Bruce’s mind.

You stared out the large, arched window on his wall for a few quiet moments, watching as the rain quickly fell down the glass one by one as Bruce softly traced his textured fingertips along the spine of your back.

“It always rains, you ever notice that?” You murmured tiredly against his skin, in a daze from the tingling sensation on your skin as he caressed your back in gentle, loving touches.

Bruce looked away from you a moment when you spoke to spare the window a disinterested glance, “What? You don’t like the rain, Mrs. Wayne?” He teased you, his spirits higher than before as he looked back down at you even if you couldn’t see, his nose filled with the sweet smelling shampoo you used — coconut and vanilla.

You smiled a little — you loved when he called you that.

“Well of course you do. You’re Batman, you’re supposed to like depressing things.” You spoke with a smile, only teasing him as your eyes drifted shut from the comfort of his body against yours, muscles melting against the black sheets nestled between his own.

Bruce chucked at that, his hand ceasing its calming motion, “oh, is that right?”

You hummed with an amused smile on your lips, nodding your head, “mmhmm, yes sir.”

Bruce scoffed playfully at that, looking down at you with a fond playfulness in his eyes before gently taking his muscled arm out from underneath your head.

You lifted your head up curiously to look at him, wishing for the moment to not be disturbed, only to be gently rolled over so that Bruce was laid on top of you and you were now sunken into the inky black abyss of cushions beneath him. Your lips parted in a slight gasp, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes he loved so much in surprise.

“Now now, Mrs. Wayne, don’t go calling me that unless you plan on doing something about it, it’s in bad taste.”

You giggled at that, a joyous and twinkling sound that made Bruce tense up, his eyes darting towards your lips and his heart quickening in his chest. You always had such an effect on him even if you didn’t know it.

“How ‘bout you do something about it then?” You whispered up to him sensually, voice low and playful. You could feel the air surrounding the little bubble you two found yourselves in change heavily as you ran your hands softly over his midsection, his light skin cold and soft, muscles hard and firm as you traced your fingers delicately over each individual ab until Bruce was twitching at the feeling.

He glanced down at your hands hotly, already worked up from your minuscule touches alone, his skin tingling from the sensation as a familiar heat started to twirl in his lower tummy.

He looked back down at you, eyes more hooded now but just as eagerly as rain pounded on the windows somewhere in the background — you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of his warm breaths and the gradual throbbing between your own legs.

“Yeah? Would you like if I did something about it, Mrs. Wayne?” Your husband mumbled huskily, a teasing smirk on his lips as he lowered down closer until his face was just above yours, his big arms pressed into the pillow on each side of your head so you were surrounded by him.

He could see the way you inhaled at the name, felt the way your nails dug into his skin for a subtle, fleeting moment. He always knew all the right ways to turn you on, knew all the right words to say to make you melt in his hands like warm syrup — you were certainly just as sweet.

You stared up at your husband with heavy breaths, mouth watering for a taste of him, eyes blown black with love and unabashed want as he sat in the reflection of your irises. Your skin felt hot and your thighs tightened around his waist, arms aimlessly tracing the ridges of muscle that coated Bruce’s front; it was in an innocently naive way now, so unaware of how badly it was affecting Bruce himself as your initial confidence dwindled down to need.

You impatiently waited for him to make a move, give into the desire you both so clearly felt as your eyes ran over his shirtless body and perfect face in the mean time. With every exhale of breath out of his mouth you found yourself inhaling it back in, breathing his air and smelling of Bruce’s aftershave, Bruce’s shampoo, it was all just Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.

He had completely overwhelmed your senses with his smell, his presence, his very existence and it was making it hard to think clearly — only he plagued your thoughts so much it made your fingertips buzz to feel more of him.

It was in moments like these where the sheer size of Bruce was brought to your attention; he was much more muscular than you, all sharp edges and ridges of pure muscle and destruction that could destroy anything he put his hands on.

It was ironic to you, how those same hands that broke bones were the same hands that caressed your skin in the softest of touches, in the softest of ways, irrevocably incapable of breaking you.

Bruce believed he was all carnal ruination — hands made to break and fists made to destroy. He believed he had a dark side in him he couldn’t control, that Batman was the outlet for all the frustration he felt towards the injustices of the city and how easily it corrupted the lightest of souls. He believed he was made to hurt, to cause ruin — a reason why he never took a single human soul no matter how rotten it was.

But you believed he didn’t give himself enough credit, which is exactly why moments like these were so important to remind him.

You swallowed nervously now as you looked back into his eyes, your fingers faltering in their movement as they stilled on the angles of his hips, right outside the tight band of his black sweatpants.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne, that’s exactly what I want.” You whispered back up to him in a velvety soft tone, eyes looking at his pink lips and then flickering back up between his hazel irises lustfully; the look in them was too intense for you to handle but you sufficed, your heart thrumming passionately under your skin at the attention.

Bruce almost melted at the name, just as affected by the title as you were, lowering his face down until his nose was touching yours, his lips hovering right above your own.

“That’s my girl…” Bruce breathed thickly against your lips, his eyes flickering to your mouth as yours did the same to his, your mouth salivating for a taste of him.

A silent beat passed as you both just stayed in that position, locked into each other’s loving gazes and gentle touches, his lips just a whisper away from yours screaming to have you, to taste you. It was intimate and warm, quiet, your body feeling fuzzy and alight with something similar to deep admiration and not so far from a deep, shared love for each other.

There was no playfulness about it now.

It was then, when the tension had sizzled into flame did Bruce finally lean down and kiss you, his lips soft and cold, so contrasting from the warmth he sought in yours as the rain pattered on the windows and your angelic essence drowned him further into the depths of you.

You moaned softly, feeling relief flood through you as your hands gripped his hips for some sort of anchor off the clouds you seemed to be floating on. Bruce kissed you lovingly, a characteristic act of tenderness as he found his own needy noises hum in the back of his throat.

It was sweet and slow, lips careful and gentle against each other between delicate sighs and hums. He tasted of peppermint and the faint drawl of bourbon, his tongue damping your lips and your shared saliva wet on your mouths.

He seperated from you just for a short moment, your lips feeling the loss but not for too long before he was on you once more with a fervor, tongue molding between your lips forcefully and sucking yours into the warmth of his mouth.

You whined at the sudden confidence within him, lips barely moving against his as he took control of your movements and gave you no other option but to take what he gave you — his lips and his tongue tangling with yours messily as sensual rumbles sounded deep from within in his chest.

He brought a hand down from the pillow and intertwined it in your hair, tangling his thick fingers into your roots and pulling hard enough to arouse you further. It made your back arch and lips part in a salacious gasp.

Bruce found himself unable to part from your delectable taste for long, taking that moment to reconnect his damp lips to the skin between your chin and shoulder. He forced your head back as he kissed your neck, the cold air hitting every damp spot in a pleasurable tingling sensation that had your nails digging into his abs.

“Bruce…” You sighed oh so sweetly in a distracted state of mind, just wanting to say his name and have him hear how good he was making you feel with his simple kisses alone — a feat he always accomplished anytime he did.

The praise didn’t fall on deaf ears but he was too preoccupied with the sound of your heavy breaths and whines to really pay attention, too love drunk on the smoothness of your skin falling over his tongue as he licked his way down to your collarbone. He released his grip on your hair and his hands made idle work in caressing their way down your body to the hem of your white pajama top.

His hands were eager, so familiar on the curves of your body as they slid back up to your chest, hands big and desperate as they tightly gripped your bosom for a fleeting moment that had you moaning at the sting — he was handsy, unable to get enough of you and the way your body perfectly slotted between the strength and ridges of his hands.

His cock was already hard in his slacks, poking against your thigh absentmindedly as his hands dug into the center of your top and adamantly ripped it right down the middle. The buttons flew over the bed and your tits spilled out of the ripped material in a gorgeous ripple of flesh that had Bruce groaning at the sight.

“So beautiful, so gorgeous, just fucking perfect…” He mumbled in a lustful daze, more to himself as a factual observation, his hands now gripping your waist, eager mouth leaning down and making quick work to lap at your chest in the way he knew you liked.

You giggled dreamily at that, feeling fluttery and lightheaded at the praise, body warm and melting like a cube of butter on top of his silk bed sheets. He was always capable of making you melt with just a few loving words and caresses, another one of his talents.

Your hands had found their way into his thick hair, massaging at the loose strands when you decided it was impossible to stay still from the buzzing running through your pores.

Your pussy throbbed in your pajama shorts, painfully so, stomach in tight knots at the sparks shooting down to your core from his ministrations.

He found himself enthralled by the feeling of your tit in his mouth, fervently sucking on the skin there as his hands gripped into your waist so tight in a subconsciously possessive hold so you could never leave. Maybe it was the semblance of Batman himself leaking out from under tight fingertips, a degree of fierce protection in the way he held you underneath him, unable to be taken or destroyed by the same evil he fought almost every night.

You were here with him, with him and all of his burdens for the rest of your lives.

“So gorgeous…”

Bruce was lost in the pleasure you helplessly moaned in his ears, feeling his own mutual desire swirling in his tummy and thrumming through his skin that made every touch feel like fire, every kiss an ember from the flame until you and him were intertwined ash lost in the black smoke.

He loved you, his pretty wife, always so supportive and forgiving in the moments he definitely didn’t deserve it.

He picked his head up, panting and lips wet, your chest littered in pink marks and damp with his spit as Bruce licked his lips, hungry for more already.

You looked at him in all his glory, admiringly, just as enamored with him as he was with you as your warm hands slid down to his cheeks. Your own were flushed pink and feverish, breath warm and heavy as you lovingly ran your palm over his sharp cheekbone. His skin was soft, smooth and tepid under your dainty fingertips.

You gently caressed the faint purple of a bruise with your thumb, right in the hollow of his eye.

Bruce leaned into the tender action for a spared moment of comfort, his eyes hooded and twinkling in the dark as he breathed heavily against your lips. He kept finding himself absent in the presence of your beauty, staring at your face and your lips and being so thankful he had you at all.

“So beautiful…” He breathed gingerly, eyes looking over your face like he was seeing you for the first time — no, he was selfish in his blatant admiration of your magnificence, his heart throbbing almost painfully in his love for you as he watched the soft corners of your mouth twist into a shy smile at your devotees idolatrous attention.

He leaned down after a fond moment of your thumb tracing his cheekbone, after he was satisfied with his generous intake of your prettiness. He pecked an affectionate kiss on your smiling lips before dipping his head down and laying several kisses to your neck once more.

You bit your lip at the sensitive feeling, closing your eyes, lost in the feel of him, as he pampered you with doting kisses all the way down to your ribcage, his hands now playing with the hem of your shorts but not too boldly as to take them off quite yet.

“You’re everything, you know that? I could never imagine my life without you… you’re perfect, so perfect.” He rubbed your stomach adoringly, “Your body is perfect, so beautiful, I can’t believe you ever married me…” He mumbled in that rough voice of his, vulnerable in the night, in the moment when you couldn’t see him all the way clearly but he could see all of you just fine.

You could feel another smile playing on your lips — not that it had even left — the heavy sensation of happy tears casting a light sheen over your eyes. He was the perfect one, he was the gorgeous and beautiful counterpart of you that didn’t seem to realize his own value. You only wished you had the poetic spark in yourself that he had, then you’d be able to voice it properly. Still, his praise made your heart swell as he took your left hand and kissed the diamond ring on your finger amorously.

“Oh, Bruce…” You spoke in a hushed manner, voice wobbling from the overwhelming infatuation you had for the man, so thankful and grateful for such a man as wonderful as he. In your eyes the sudden romance had come out of nowhere, but it was still greatly appreciated as it caused your voice to thicken with the downpour of love it had spiked.

He looked into your eyes as he warmly kissed your palm, lips quirked slightly, eliciting another tender hearted smile from you. He then let you settle your hands back on his shoulders as he slotted himself between your hips, the affectionate moment lingering in the air as you pet his wide shoulders.

You were laid on your back, smooth thighs spread to accommodate his size between them, pajama top ripped down the middle in fragmented material hanging off your shoulders, your tits pooled on your chest and wet with his kisses. Your hair was tangled, fanned around your head, lips pink and plushy from all his salacious kisses, your eyes glittering erotically bright.

Despite that, you were not uncomfortable to be so exposed to him, exposed in a way you’d only ever be with him. You knew he would never judge you nor your body, that he loved you and all your freckles and scars and all the blemishes you considered imperfections — he loved them all. The only part of you not seen were covered by the shorts Bruce was already eager to take off.

You were beautiful to him, ethereal even, just as he said you were an angel, something divine and pure, a holy deity completely out of this world that transcended the mortal plane he was bound to, letting his lowly lips and hands cherish your merciful soul and body. Just oh so perfect.

“I love you…” You whispered, pathetically cute, down to him, a whisper wafting into his ears soft and fragile as if you were scared he wouldn’t say it back — he’d say it everyday for a thousand years if he had the blessing of living that long with you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulsing with need, as you smiled down at him sweetly.

“I love you more, Mrs. Wayne… I love you more…” He breathed hotly against your stomach, already leaning down and peppering sugarcoated kisses along your pelvis, so much closer to where you really needed him that the throbbing had become unbearably intense, wetness soaking your inner thighs and cream colored shorts. You felt your body shiver at the title once more.

You swallowed shakily as Bruce moved down, his daft fingers hooking into the band of your shorts and gently shoving them down to your knees as his longing lips reached the band of your lavender laced panties.

Your thighs tightened around his head as cool air hit your wet center, your body sensitive and pulsing heavy notes of desire straight into your pussy that made it hard to keep your head up and eyes open.

You just needed him, needed him and his expert mouth to bring you some sort of relief. Your toes were curled already, pussy clenching around nothing and spewing out clear juices that only damped your underwear further. You tangled your fingers into his hair heatedly, resisting the urge to shove his head down where you really wanted him.

Bruce swallowed hungrily, staring at your panty-clad pussy with dark eyes. He could smell your sweetness on his nose, the rain pattering on the windows still and the room still dark as sin but he could see his heaven clear as day, hypnotized by the patch of wetness in your panties, molded to the shape of your pussy lips and begging to be ripped apart.

His eyes flickered up to you, feeling your grabby fingers tangled in his hair as your thighs tensed back and forth around his neck.

Your head was barely held up, eyes hooded and sparkling with a form of lustful desperation as you stared down at him. Your chest bobbing up and down heavily and your skin radiant and smooth, the city lights from his window blurredly reflected in the fat of your cheeks. You already looked destroyed, like he had just fucked your brains out yet he really hadn’t done a thing.

“Bruce, come on…” You whined in a delicate plea when he made no movement further, hands barely pulling his hair but it was hard enough for his skin to prickle in pleasure, a hiss leaving his lips, just hard enough to get your message across.

He snickered at that, lips shiny and jaw chiseled, his face so sharp yet soft at the same time. His beauty greatly perplexed you for how could a mere mortal be so fucking handsome? He was though, he was strong and big and riddled with scars and imperfections yet the accumulation of all those little faults are what made him flawless.

Bruce himself felt the throbs of impatience nestled in his stomach, burrowed in his heart, buzzing at his fingertips, as he looked down at your pussy once more just inches from his mouth, both wet and watering for the other.

“Be patient, honey. I just wanna look at ‘cha first. You’re so pretty, dripping wet for me…” He had the audacity to murmur in that cocky voice of his, yet simultaneously genuine and stunned at the observation as his hands rubbed your thighs, being sure to heartily press into the tissue in that way he knew you liked.

You couldn’t help but pull his hair some more, bursting at the seams for some sort of pleasure you feared it would boil over and you’d explode. You felt frustration settle through your veins once more like molten lava, your skin tensing and thighs aching from their tight grip around his neck.

“Bruce, no more teasing, please? Just please…” You moaned and whined like a stubborn girl, voice thick with need and painful yearning that made his cock twitch in his pants. You almost sounded broken, voice fragmented with a certain torment only his mouth and fingers could appease.

He licked his lips, feeling desire swell in his lower tummy at the state of you — already so incapable of any thought but the memory of his cock inside you, the feeling of his fingers drilling into your tight hole as he spat and licked on your sensitive clit. It was all you could think about, all you could picture in your mind as your head laid back on the pillows and you scooted down the bed until your pussy was right in his face.

The blanket had long since been forgotten, bunched around his hips and aiding as a nice cushion for his abdomen hunched over the end of the bed.

Bruce felt himself chuckle huskily at your shameless neediness, his big hands stopping on your plush inner thighs as he settled down between your legs on the soft mattress, getting himself comfortable for you.

You breathed heavily, eyes closed as you laid back on the silken pillow with your face crumbled so cutely. He was such a tease even when he was meant to be sweet, even when he was insistent on being a good husband who doted on his wife whenever he could — you guessed growing up rich gave him that arrogant edge.

Your stomach was knotted so tight, your skin hot and shivering for some sort of touch as your fingers dug themselves into the roots of his damp, brown hair. You needed him so bad, but your pussy needed him worse.

You felt your thighs tickle as Bruce lightly traced the pads of his fingers down, down, down until he was at the crook of your inner thigh, his right hand digging into the flesh of your leg like he himself couldn’t hold back from you anymore.

Bruce didn’t bother voicing any teasing quips or dirty statements, knowing you were so out of it you wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Every fiber of your being was hooked on his touches, hyper aware of the spots his fingers trickled across, eager for some degree of pleasure that would make this painful waiting period worth it.

He swallowed down the salvia pooling in his throat, so hungry for a taste of you, starved almost. His index finger hooked into your panties and delicately pushed them out of the way until they were bunched in the crook of your thigh. His eyes were met with your soaking wet slit in all its glory.

White, creamy arousal stuck to your panties and dripped down your pulsing hole into the crack of your ass, sheer white beads of cum dribbled down your needy hole that would escape his tongue before he even got a proper taste of you yet.

The cool air made you whine behind closed lips, your voice high pitched and desperate now, your fingers tighter in his hair as your hips subtly bucked forward. The beautiful noises you were making made Bruce’s jaw clench.

You were glistening, shiny with arousal and the strings of impenitent want, evidence of your desire and love for him as he found himself inhaling the scent of you once more.

You smelt so good. He found himself groaning at the musky sweetness, his finger still hooked around the crotch of your panties as his other hand tightly gripped your thigh — you moaned softly at the pressure, sure that there would be the faint yellow bruises of his adoring fingerprints pressed into your skin tomorrow. A charming reminder of the evening when they blossomed.

You felt your core clench once more, thighs tensing up as wetness shone in his greedy irises.

Bruce was unable to wait any longer, his mouth salivating and his eyes blown black as he pressed his tongue into your wet hole and licked a bold stripe all the way up to your buzzing clit, the taste of your arousal pooled on his tongue and already dripping down the sharp corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t stop the loud moan from echoing in the room, euphoric sounding as sweet sparks went off all over your skin at the long awaited contact. Your fingers tightly anchored themselves in Bruce’s hair as his tongue went up and down your folds, gathering as much of your wetness in his mouth as he could.

His hands swiftly dug themselves into your hips to hold you down once you started writhing in his hold. His tongue forcefully circled your clit in sharp wet strokes, deep rumbled moans escaping his chest that vibrated the sensitivity of it and only made more wetness gush out of you and soak his chin.

You tasted so good, so fucking good; he wanted nothing more than to be drowned in your essence, choking on everything you gave him until his belly was full and even then he wouldn’t be satisfied, he’d never be satisfied. He was like a monster, chasing every little drop of cum that pebbled out of your clenching hole with a forked tongue, greedy and carnivorous like you were the only nectar he ever wanted to taste again.

His tongue lapped your pussy once more as you gasped, back arched and toes clenched as he thrusted his tongue into you over and over, wet and messily as your juices shimmered on his cheeks and lips.

No, he decided, the beast within him would never be tamed.

You bucked away from his mouth in a pathetic attempt to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure, but Bruce held you down with his strong arms, staring up at you with furrowed brows of concentration as his lips molded over your puffy clit once more, swollen from need and his relentless licking.

He was nothing if not devoted, devoted to your elegance, to your holy figure and endless love as he lapped at you desperately, his tongue swirling your clit as the fabric of your panties tickled his nose. He couldn’t get enough, pushing deeper and harder until your wetness was messily smeared on his mouth and face, eating more and tasting more until his entire being was smothered with your cum inside and out.

“Bruce, o-oh my god!” You squealed wantonly, one hand now gripping the black sheets between tight fingers as your other hand remained in his hair, following the movements of his head as he went up and down, side to side until not an inch of you wasn’t covered in his salvia.

He breathed hotly against you, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of you in his mouth and trickling down his throat. He couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t listen to reason as all he could focus on was you and your cum, tasting you, licking you, having you in every sense of the word. No one could tear him away from you, not now, not when he was so close to having you cum in his mouth and reaching his final purpose.

You were so close, you could feel it in your tummy. Your hole clenching around his tongue as he went back and forth from your clit and your soaked hole, wanting to pleasure you but simultaneously wanting to taste you for his own pleasure.

Your toes curled, stomach tightened, hands gripping the sheets as your mouth flew open in sporadic moans and gasps, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your thighs squeezed around Bruce so tight you’d fear he’d never surface from between your legs again.

He wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Bruce picked his head up only high enough to talk, lips dripping and almost incoherent as he mumbled deeply into the wet folds of your pussy like he couldn’t bear to part, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Mrs. Wayne, make me proud, cum in my mouth.” As he voiced this his one hand crept down and slyly inserted themselves into the tight confine of your warmth, his index and middle fingers pushing inside you, so long and so big it made you cry out.

It was wet and warm, your juices slapping against his knuckles as he circled his fingers inside you, pushing on the spot he knew he was supposed to as his mouth eagerly returned to your clit. He looked up at you, eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your tits jiggling with every thrash of your hips, every arch of your back and every gasp out of your pretty, dampened lips.

He groaned into you at the sight, feeling his cock achingly hard in his pants as he sucked your clit into the warmth of his mouth and refused to let go, tongue prodding the area skillfully and harshly. He wasn’t going to stop this time, not until you were creaming around his fingers and leaking down his neck.

The air was so thick and stuffy that you couldn’t help but pant fervently, your body prickled with pleasure and overwhelming sensations that made it hard to focus on anything but his fingers inside you, long and lithe, slipping in and out as the sounds of your wetness clouded your ears and muffled your moans.

Bruce himself was lost in you, tongue and lips a glistening mess as they lapped and circled and sucked every part of your pussy exposed to him, it felt so good it stung — he was groaning into you softly, pleasure building in his tummy and rumbling through his mouth to your already so sensitive clit.

It was then, just a few short moments after his fingers wormed their way inside your tight walls, just a few short moments after he sucked your clit into his mouth did you feel your stomach relax, thighs squeeze around his head so hard he felt himself go dizzy.

“Ahh, O-oh my god, Bruce!” You moaned so blissfully, so sweetly, as your juices squirted onto his chin and his fingers squelched inside you.

Bruce moaned at the feeling, fingers gently sliding out of your clenching hole so his tongue could catch all the cum pouring out. You whimpered at the feeling of his mouth still on you, lapping at your hole like a dehydrated villager kneeling at a prosperous fountain, your skin pasty and so so hot.

He lapped at your pussy a few more times, up and down, ensuring he got his fill for the evening as faint tremors wracked your body in the aftershocks of his giving nature. You were flat on the bed now, belly sore from the tightness it held for so long, legs limp and body spent as you panted gently, heart throbbing in your ears.

You managed to lazily caress his sweaty hair though as Bruce surfaced from between your legs, face glistening and lips sore and pink. He looked manic, hair pulled and tangled and messily scattered on his face yet he seemed to be glowing at the same time, like he had never felt so alive and it made you want to giggle.

He sniffled, looking up at you with an impish grin, the taste of you lingering in his mouth and staining his nose. His hands fondly massaged your shaking thighs, noting your wrecked appearance and tired eyes, your sweaty skin flushed and warm.

He couldn’t help it as he glanced down at the mess he made, your slippery wet folds and the large patch of wetness staining his sheets.

“Mrs. Wayne, pardon my brashness of course,” He said almost sarcastically, breathless and rugged, an amused smile quirked on his lips as he leaned forward and embraced your hand with his, “but you taste utterly divine.”

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @little-miss-chaoss — I hope it’s okay I tagged you, you said you wanted to be tagged in everything 😭🙌🏻

[lunalockley]

Night Desires

Dark!Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: I mean, dark sort of creepy Steven Grant wishing to do things he shouldn't. Nonconsensual desires? Maybe.

Words: 900+

Notes: This is very short and not as dark as it could, I'm just testing the waters! Let me know what you thinkkk and thanks for always reblogging and commenting nice things <3 love you all

Masterlist

gif credit

It began before I could even see your face, it began before I even knew your name. It began with your voice.

You didn't realize such thin walls this building has, did you? Of course, you didn’t darling. Is that why you started to rub your pretty little clit in the middle of the night on your first day in? You thought your good new neighbor couldn’t hear you? God, Love, the sounds you made. I could hear everything. I swear I’ve never been so hard in my life before, never so fast. I tried not to react to it, at first. I really tried. I’m a good guy after all. I’m a gentleman. But who could have resisted you?

I used to wonder how would you react if I told you. When you are all sweet and nice to me in the corridor, what would you do if I say how hard you made me come with your moans and that gasping breathing of yours? Would you blush if I say how I was stroking my cock with one hand and covering my mouth with the other so you couldn’t hear how you wrecked you had me? Would your heart pick up in your chest if I say how badly I want it to be my hands the ones that had you whining so pretty? Would that make you wet? I bet it would. You’re not a good girl, not all the time at least. I know that much.

But you can’t blame me, can you? After that first night, I decided I would never think about it again. I was ashamed. I was even planning on moving my bed from the wall to the farthest possible place in the flat. Can you imagine? I was planning on keeping myself away from you. What an idiot. I didn’t last much though. We bumped into each other in the elevator a few days later and I was a goner.

You had to be so bloody gorgeous, didn’t you? You were all smiles and blushed cheeks. Calling my name in that way you did. Steven, you said. How your lips wrapped the sound, how it ended somewhere low in your throat it drove me insane right there. Steven, it never sounded so glorious before. I wonder how it might sound all breathy and delirious in the darkness of your room, I wonder what it would do to me then. I need to find out.

It used to be okay Love, this little secret between the night, the walls, and I. My favorite time of the day. Delighted in you, holding my breath, measuring my movements to don’t lose any detail I could catch but then—then that disgusting vibrating sound ruining everything. Overcoming your sighs, your pretty little whines. Everything.

How dare you do that to me.

Using some lifeless cold machine when I’m right here alive and warm and eager to do anything you could ask me to. It’s cruel. Making me jealous of some stupid battery thing when I could give you everything. Anything you needed for as long as you wanted it. Letting you catch your breath just to start it all over again.

I hate it. Night after night I hate it more and more. That detestable repetitive sound. It makes me mad. I want to take it off your hands, rip it apart and show you—

Once I read that no man with power should be trusted because he will always use it for his own benefit. I used to think that wasn’t true. I had faith in people, I had faith in me. But now I know—If I just had a tiny little amount of power over you. If I had you all helpless at my mercy, nowhere else to go. God, the things I would do.

Nothing to hurt you, of course. I could never hurt you. Not if you don’t want me to, but I bet you would.

I would just take you the way I’ve wanted all these months. Pump my cock in and out of that wet pussy just like you do with that toy. But, Love, I would be so, so much better. I would know how you need it just by looking at you. Giving it to you faster, slower, harder. And you just would need the lay back and take it for me.

At first, I would have you on your knees. I want to hold you against a wall and fuck your pretty face until your throat is burning, until you’re choking on me and tears run down your cheeks. But I want it slow and tender too. I want you to take just as much as you want to, your hand stroking the rest. I want you to lick me, to savor me. I want to feel your lips and your tongue. And I want to kiss you afterward.

And I want to taste you. I want to drag my tongue just like I’ve been dreaming for so long and I want to feel you tremble and to hear you beg and I want you to get mad and push me against you, I want to lose my breath and have you in my mouth and my lungs and my hands.

And I want to know how those pretty little sounds feel right in my ear. The warmth of your ragged breathing into my neck. Your soft hands holding into me. Your wet cunt clenching hard around me, and my name on your lips over and over again. 

I need everything and more.

I fantasize about it. All the damn bloody time. About just breaking in and giving you what so desperately need. 

Anything you need.

I used to want but I’m getting tired of it. Enough is enough, Love. I’ll start doing now.

[lily-radiance]

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

EXCUSE ME MISS MA’AM!?

Hi I speak for everyone that if you have the time, energy, and love…. Could you please give us a part two of Bunny. Yeah we’re gonna need that in order to function properly. I am begging at this point.

P.S. you are a beautiful person!

Sincerely,

Chaos

I love you babes! 💚 again, I cannot believe an amazing author like YOU, wanted a part two from ME! This absolutely means the work to me. Thank you :)

Bunny (Part 2) - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 11,941

Warnings: violence, Joker, manipulation, minor age gap, implied stalking, technically breaking and entering Summary: This new-found relationship- if it could even be labelled as such, has been wearing on Y/n. Being with a wanted criminal generally does that to a person, she finds. Now, when she encounters a potential new friend during her lecture, how will this dynamic fit into her already tumultuous existence?

(Part 1)

A/N: Thank you everyone in fact for all the support on this fic that I've gotten and a lot of requests for a part two so I hope I can deliver! I love this man so much (maybe not as much as our girl Chaos, but you get me). In this one, I definitely wanted to make him more manipulative and just overall aggressive so ✨ slay ✨ So I hope you all enjoy this part two :) 💚

-

To describe her newfound "relationship" with the Joker as unconventional would be a massive understatement. If Y/n wasn't anxious before, she most certainly was now. The Joker's presence in her life was a constant source of unease, his unpredictable nature and the shadow of his criminality casting a dark cloud over her thoughts.

The fear of discovery gnawed at her mind like a relentless beast. What if someone saw him entering her dorm? What if word got out and she became a target? Despite the Joker's assurances of protection, Y/n couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the depths of her mind.

And then there were the surprise visits, each one a jolt to her already frazzled nerves. With no means of contacting him or determining when they would meet, Y/n found herself at the mercy of the Joker's whims, her schedule and peace of mind constantly disrupted.

What truly unsettled her, however, was the realization that the Joker seemed to have an uncanny ability to keep tabs on her, lurking in the shadows without her knowledge. She was trapped in a game she didn't fully understand, a pawn in the Joker's twisted world, with no escape in sight.

But it wasn’t all too bad, for one thing, he was surprising very generous, in his own way. He’d show up, showering her with gifts and other offers that kept her on her toes. He’s also offered to buy Y/n a high end apartment, but knowing him, it would be paid with dirty money, which is something she’d think about everytime she stepped into the apartment. 

Despite his unpredictable nature, she couldn't deny the feelings she harbored for him. In his presence, she experienced emotions she had never known before, a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration that left her breathless. Strangely, amidst the chaos and danger that surrounded him, he had a way of making her feel oddly calm and grounded.

Nights like these were the ones she cherished most. Lying on her single bed, Joker enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth providing a sense of solace that she found nowhere else. They remained in silence, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Y/n felt his lips press against the side of her head, eliciting a slight groan as she instinctively reached to wipe away the residue of his makeup. She hadn't yet seen him without it, respecting his choice to keep his identity concealed, but sometimes wished she could see the man behind the mask.

"You don't like my kisses?" Joker quirked an eyebrow, teasingly.

"It's not your kisses I mind, it's the greasy mess you leave behind," Y/n replied with a playful grin.

“Greasy mess? Like this?” Joker responded by nuzzling his face against hers, prompting a laugh from Y/n as she attempted to push him away.

Y/n playfully pushed Joker away, laughing as she saw his face paint smudged from their playful exchange. It wasn't until she caught her own reflection in the small mirror across the room that she realized her own face was adorned with similar streaks of color.

"Oh yay! Now I have to go out and clean my face," she remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Joker glanced at his reflection in the mirror, a grin spreading across his face as he observed the colorful mess they had created together.

"It's a masterpiece," he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sense of freedom and happiness in these moments with Joker, despite the uncertainty that lingered in the background.

Y/n rose from the bed, intending to clean the smeared face paint from her skin, but Joker's voice halted her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he inquired, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Just to wash my face," Y/n replied, her voice gentle.

Joker's response was immediate. "Later," he insisted, his arms beckoning her back to the warmth of their shared space.

Reluctantly, Y/n made her way back to him, sinking back into the comfort of Joker's embrace as they resumed their quiet companionship.

As they lay together in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in her mind. Joker's presence, though comforting in its own way, was a constant reminder of the unpredictable nature of their relationship.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n felt Joker's hand gently stroking her hair, a gesture that contrasted sharply with his usual erratic demeanor. She turned to look at him, meeting his intense gaze.

"Now tell me… What’s going on inside that little mind of yours, Bunny?" Joker asked softly, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to articulate the swirling emotions inside her. "Just... wondering about us," she admitted quietly.

Joker caressed her cheek, "You worry too much, Doll," he murmured, pulling her closer to him.

But despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. She knew that navigating a relationship with the Joker would never be easy, but for now, all she could do was hold onto him and hope for the best.

-

As Y/n stirred from her slumber from her sudden alarm ringing, the absence of Joker's warmth beside her sent a pang of loneliness through her. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed and glanced around the room, the morning light casting a soft glow over the empty space.

With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her phone to silence the persistent alarm. The familiar routine of the morning only served to highlight the absence of Joker's presence, leaving Y/n feeling a sense of gloom that lingered like a shadow.

Despite knowing that their time together was fleeting and unpredictable, Y/n couldn't help but yearn for the comfort of Joker's embrace. But as she resigned herself to another day without him by her side, she knew that the loneliness was a small price to pay for the moments of connection they shared.

-

Navigating the familiar corridors of Gotham University, Y/n followed her well-worn path to her lecture hall. As she walked down the steps, she suddenly stopped. Someone was sitting in her spot. Well- it technically wasn’t her seat, but it had become her unofficial spot through habit.

Her heart quickened with uncertainty as Y/n scanned the room, searching for an alternative seat. Sighing in relief, she found herself an empty row along the side, a makeshift refuge from the disruption to her routine.

As she took her seat, she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. It was unsettling to deviate from her routine, even in such a small way. But she reminded herself that change was inevitable, and sometimes it was necessary to step out of her comfort zone.

Just as she started to relax into her new surroundings, a voice startled her from behind.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" the voice asked, and Y/n turned to see a guy standing beside her, a friendly smile on his face.

"Uhh.. No, you can sit," Y/n replied hesitantly.

He smiled warmly, settling into the seat beside her. "I’m Max, by the way," he introduced himself.

"I’m Y/n," she responded quickly, feeling a flutter of nerves at his friendly demeanor.

"He really piled on the homework this week, didn't he?" Max said with a chuckle, referring to the professor's latest reading.

Y/n nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm drowning in articles."

Max laughed, a sound that was oddly comforting to Y/n's ears. "Well, at least we're in the same boat. Misery loves company, right?"

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't help but notice the genuine kindness in Max's eyes and the way his smile reached all the way to his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the unpredictable intensity she experienced with Joker.

Despite her lingering anxiety, Y/n found herself enjoying the conversation, feeling a sense of normalcy she hadn't felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, Y/n felt a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of forming a new connection. Maybe this blip in her routine was exactly what she needed.

-

As they walked up the steps, Max's voice cut through the murmurs of departing students. He turned to Y/n with a friendly smile, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm heading to the library. Care to join?"

Y/n paused, her gaze flitting to the clock before returning to Max. His genuine invitation sparked a flicker of warmth in her chest. "Thanks, but I don't think I have time," she replied, a hint of regret in her tone.

"No worries. Maybe next time?" Max suggested, his smile unwavering.

Y/n's mind raced, contemplating the possibility. She couldn't help but feel excited about Max's offer. "Sounds good," she finally said, returning his smile with a small one of her own.

"Great," Max said, his smile widening before he turned and walked out of the lecture hall.

As Y/n watched Max's retreating figure, a sense of relief washed over her. For the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of normalcy amidst the chaos of her life.

-

Walking back to her dorm was a breeze, as it was only a short distance from campus. With each step, a smile adorned Y/n's face, a rare occurrence after a typical day at university. Beyond the casual acquaintances in her dorm, she rarely found herself engaging with others on campus.

Unlocking her dorm room door, Y/n stepped inside, only to be greeted by a sudden scream that escaped her lips. Joker stood before her, a chilling presence that sent shivers down her spine.

"You scared me!" Y/n sighed, quickly shutting the door behind her. “I didn’t expect to see you till later on.”

Joker's demeanor was unsettlingly calm as he observed her, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, an eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

"Have a... good day?" Joker's voice carried an edge of menace.

"Uhh... I suppose," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable.

There was an unmistakable tension in the air, an unspoken threat lingering between them. Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

"Are you okay, Joker?" Y/n asked cautiously.

"Dandy..." Joker's response was terse, his gaze piercing as he continued to scrutinize her.

Y/n's brow furrowed in concern, her instincts on high alert. But before she could voice her apprehension, Joker abruptly changed the subject, his tone taking on a predatory edge.

"Made any friends lately?" Joker's question hung in the air, loaded with an underlying threat.

"N-no," Y/n stammered, feeling like a cornered animal under Joker's scrutiny.

A sinister smile tugged at Joker's lips, an unsettling sight that sent a chill down Y/n's spine. She felt like a mouse being circled by a hungry cat- or in this case, a bunny being circled by a hungry wolf as Joker began to pace around her, his movements calculated and predatory.

"Hmmm..." Joker's voice was a low murmur, filled with unnerving curiosity. "Then who was that boy you were talking with?"

"Oh! Max," Y/n began to explain, she smiled slightly, thinking back to their encounter. "I had to sit in a different seat today, and he sat beside…"

Her words trailed off as realization dawned on her. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to form a coherent response. She hadn't anticipated Joker's sudden interrogation, nor did she understand how he knew about her encounter with Max.

"H-how do you know about that?"

But Joker merely smirked in response, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light of her dorm room, his gaze fixated on her with an intensity that made her blood run cold.

"So, my Bunny made a friend?" Joker's smile widened, revealing his yellowed teeth in a chilling grin. "Why don’t you tell me about this… Max.".

"I-I don’t know much about him, I just met him today," Y/n explained, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"Is that so?" Joker halted abruptly, standing mere inches away from her.

Y/n nodded, her nerves palpable as she awaited Joker's next move.

"You know, Bunny," Joker began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I don't think you should be hanging around with this Max character."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "Why not?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising fear.

"Because," Joker replied, his voice dropping to a low growl, "I don't trust him. And you should know by now that I don't like it when people get too close to what's mine."

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to process Joker's words. She knew he was possessive, but this felt different. More dangerous. She needed to tread carefully.

"But… he's just a friend," Y/n protested weakly, hoping to reason with Joker.

Joker's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to her. "I don't care if he's just a friend. Stay away from him, Bunny. Trust me, it's for your own good."

Y/n swallowed hard, looking down, feeling a knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She knew she had to heed Joker's warning, no matter how much it frightened her.

Joker held her jaw, tilting her head up to look at him with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. “Is there a problem, Bunny?” he asked, his voice low and commanding.

She shook her head, feeling the weight of his hand against her skin, making it hard to think straight.

“Good,” Joker said, his lips brushing against hers in a possessive kiss. “Now, let’s go have a lie down, hmm? I know how class just wears you out,” he suggested, his tone oddly tender as he led her to the bed.

Y/n complied, allowing Joker to guide her onto the single bed. As he kicked off his shoes and settled in, she followed suit, slipping off her own shoes before nestling against his chest. His warmth enveloped her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the familiar comfort of his body against hers.

"You know I care very much about you, Bunny?" Joker said, his voice soft yet firm.

"Yes... I know," Y/n murmured, her heart fluttering at his words.

"Good," Joker said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his touch surprisingly tender.

Looking at his wristwatch, Joker pushed himself up, not-so-gently dropping Y/n beside him. "Duty calls," he announced, his tone playful as usual.

"But it's only been like two minutes," Y/n protested, disappointment evident in her voice.

"I know, Doll... I'm gonna take you out tonight... how about that? Wear something nice, and I want you to use the money I got you, okay?" Joker suggested, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

Y/n had hoped he would have forgotten by now, it had been ages. "Yeah, okay, I'll go out and find something..." she replied, quielty.

Joker leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss on her lips. "Mwah!" he exclaimed with a grin before pulling back.

"Bye..." Y/n's voice trailed off as she watched Joker leave through her door.

She couldn't help but marvel at how he managed to slip away undetected every time, but she cracked it to Gotham University's apparent incompetence and obliviousness.

With a heavy sigh, she heaved herself up from her bed. It seemed like she wouldn't be catching a break anytime soon.

-

Y/n struggled to remember the last time she had gone shopping for clothes. She gingerly flipped through the stacks of bills, feeling a mix of awe and discomfort at the sheer amount of money in her possession. Each bill represented a dark and mysterious world she was inadvertently tied to, courtesy of the Joker's lavish gifts. Despite her reluctance to accept his extravagant gestures, she couldn't deny the allure of the possibilities they presented.

With a sigh, Y/n tucked the money into her bag and stepped out into the bustling streets of Gotham. The city seemed to pulsate with its own energy, the tall buildings casting eerie shadows on the sidewalks as people hurried by, lost in their own worlds.

As she wandered through the maze of shops and boutiques, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The clothes on display were unlike anything she had ever worn before. Bold, daring, and utterly impractical. She hesitated in front of a boutique window adorned with shimmering dresses and edgy leather jackets, feeling a pang of uncertainty gnawing at her.

But then she remembered Joker's words, urging her to splurge and indulge in whatever caught her eye. With a newfound determination, she pushed open the door and stepped into the store, ready to explore this unfamiliar world of luxury and extravagance.

Lost in the sea of designer labels and vibrant colors, Y/n tried to navigate her way through racks of clothing that seemed to whisper promises of confidence and allure. She trailed her fingers over the fabrics, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling within her.

As Y/n looked through the racks of clothing, she sifted through each piece with a discerning eye. Among the array of options, a vibrant red dress caught her attention. It boasted a flattering knee-length hem and a square collar, but despite its appeal, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that it lacked the wow factor she desired. With a sigh, she returned the dress to its place and continued her search, determined to find something truly captivating.

After what felt like an eternity of exploration, Y/n's patience paid off when her gaze fell upon a stunning black dress. The fabric shimmered enticingly under the store lights, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. As she reached out to touch it, her fingers traced the intricate stitching and delicate lace details that adorned the neckline, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine.

The dress exuded an air of confidence and allure that resonated with Y/n. She envisioned herself wearing it, knowing that it would accentuate her curves and command Joker’s attention. With Joker in mind, she couldn't help but imagine the look of admiration on his face when he saw her in such a striking ensemble.

Filled with determination, Y/n approached the checkout counter, the anticipation of owning the dress igniting a newfound sense of excitement within her. This was no ordinary purchase, it was a statement, a declaration of her newfound confidence.

As she handed over the wad of cash, Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt at the extravagance of her spending. The money was a reminder of the tangled web she found herself caught in, a constant reminder of the dangerous allure of the Joker's world.

But as she walked out of the boutique, clutching her new dress tightly, Y/n couldn't deny the thrill of stepping outside her comfort zone. Perhaps, just for tonight, she would embrace the luxury and excitement that came with being the Joker's Bunny.

-

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, Y/n slipped into the sleek black dress she had purchased earlier. Its smooth fabric hugged her figure in all the right places, boosting her confidence with each zip and adjustment. She paired it with elegant heels and subtle accessories, adding a touch of sophistication to her ensemble.

As she stood in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection, Y/n couldn't help but wonder where Joker would take her tonight. All he had said to her was he was taking her out, leaving her in suspense about their destination. Despite the uncertainty, she felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins, eager to see what the evening had in store.

With a final glance at her reflection, Y/n took a deep breath and headed to the living room to wait for Joker. She perched herself on the edge of her bed, her heart racing with anticipation as she played with the hem of her dress, her mind buzzing with excitement for the night ahead.

As the door to her dorm room swung open, Joker stepped inside, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he took in Y/n's appearance. Rising to her feet, she greeted him with a smile, her heart fluttering at the sight of him.

"Look at you!" Joker exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he gestured for her to spin around. Y/n complied, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she twirled gracefully.

"I see that money came in handy," Joker remarked, wrapping his arms around her waist affectionately.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Let's get a move on!" Joker declared, intertwining his fingers with hers and leading her out of the dorm room.

Exiting the building, they encountered no security at the front desk, allowing them to slip away unnoticed. As they stepped out into the crisp Gotham evening, Joker suddenly halted, turning to face Y/n with a playful glint in his eye.

"Wait right here, Bunny. I've got a little surprise for you," he said, giving her a wink before disappearing into the darkness.

Y/n watched him go, her curiosity piqued. She shifted nervously on her feet, her mind buzzing with anticipation as she wondered what Joker had in store for her.

Y/n rocked back and forth on her feet as she waited for Joker's surprise. The evening air was cool against her skin, and the soft glow of the streetlights cast gentle shadows around her. She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed someone approaching until she heard her name being called.

"Hey, Y/n!" The voice was familiar, and she turned around quickly, her expression lighting up as she saw Max walking towards her.

"Hey Max," she greeted him warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Uh, you remembered my name," Max remarked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a sense of ease wash over her in Max's presence. "It's not hard to forget," she quipped back, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

Max stepped up beside her, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his hoodie. "You look lovely," he complimented her, his gaze warm and appreciative.

"Thank you," Y/n replied, a blush spreading across her cheeks at the sincerity in his words.

"Got something special planned?" Max asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced around at their surroundings.

"My uuh... friend is taking me somewhere," Y/n explained, feeling a pang of uncertainty about how to refer to Joker in that moment.

"I see. Well, I hope you have a wonderful night and see you later then," Max said, offering her a friendly smile before stepping away.

"You too! Bye," Y/n called after him, watching as he walked away with a sense of gratitude for his kindness. 

As Y/n stood on the sidewalk, lost in her thoughts, she suddenly heard the revving of an engine. Glancing up, she saw a sleek purple Ford Cortina pulling up in front of her, the headlights casting an ethereal glow around the vehicle. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that it was Joker behind the wheel.

The car's engine purred softly as Joker leaned over and rolled down the window, flashing her a mischievous grin. "Hop in, Bunny," he called out, his voice laced with excitement.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation as she approached the car, her pulse quickening with every step. As she slid into the passenger seat beside him, she couldn't help but admire the vintage vehicle, its purple exterior gleaming under the streetlights.

"Nice wheels," she commented, unable to hide her admiration.

Joker chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement. "It’s yours, Bunny," he said, giving her a wink before pulling away from the curb and merging into the flow of traffic.

"W-what? Really? For me?" Y/n stammered in disbelief, her eyes widening.

"Check the glove box," Joker instructed, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Curious, Y/n complied, opening the compartment and finding it empty save for a single black box. With a mixture of anticipation and excitement, she retrieved the box, her fingers trembling slightly as she held it in her hands.

"Open it," Joker urged, a playful glint in his eyes.

With trembling hands, Y/n carefully lifted the lid of the box, revealing a stunning gold necklace adorned with a delicate "J" pendant. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the exquisite piece of jewelry, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to Joker, her eyes shining with emotion.

"You spoil me too much, J!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she hugged him tightly.

Joker chuckled, his smirk widening at her reaction. "You deserve it, Bunny."

With a grin, Y/n removed her current necklace and replaced it with the new one, admiring the glint of the gold against her skin.

As the city lights cast a soft glow over them, Joker seized the moment at the stoplight. Leaning towards Y/n, he pressed his lips to hers, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. His gloved finger trailed along her jawline, igniting a tingling sensation that danced across her skin like tiny sparks.

"You're J's Bunny, got that?" Joker's voice was low, filled with a mixture of affection and authority as he held her gaze, his eyes piercing into hers with intensity.

Y/n felt her pulse quicken as she nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of excitement and adoration for the man beside her.

"Good," Joker whispered, his lips brushing against hers once more before he leaned back, his attention returning to the road as the traffic light switched to green, signaling their onward journey into the night.

“I saw you talking with someone… Want to tell me about that?” Joker suddenly mentioned. 

The air in the car suddenly felt heavy as Joker's piercing gaze bore into Y/n. She could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on her, suffocating her with its intensity. Her fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap as she struggled to find the right words.

"That was just my friend…Max," Y/n finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of her.

Joker's jaw tightened, his grip on the steering wheel growing tense. "I thought I told you to stay away from him," he reminded her, his voice cold and sharp.

Y/n's heart sank at the reprimand. She knew she had crossed a line, but Max had caught her off guard, and she hadn't wanted to be rude. "He approached me, Joker," she explained, her voice trembling with apprehension. "I couldn't just ignore him... it would have been rude."

Joker's grip on the steering wheel tightened further, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as they drove through the dimly lit streets of Gotham.

Beneath his face paint, a storm brewed in Joker's eyes, his usual charisma overshadowed by a brooding intensity. Y/n couldn't decipher the full extent of his emotions, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. It puzzled her why Joker was so fixated on someone like Max, and she struggled to understand the depth of his agitation over their brief interaction.

"I don't want you talking to him anymore, Bunny. I’ve already told you once…" he said firmly, his voice tinged with a hint of warning.

Y/n nodded silently, her stomach churning with unease. She knew better than to argue with Joker when he was in this mood. Instead, she cast a glance out the window, her mind racing with conflicting emotions.

As they continued their journey in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at her insides. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she disobeyed him again.

The journey was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the occasional hum of the car engine and the distant sounds of Gotham's nocturnal activities. Finally, they arrived at their destination. A dimly lit alleyway nestled between towering buildings, their shadows looming ominously over the narrow passage.

Joker parked the car with a screech of tires, the headlights casting eerie shadows on the graffiti-covered walls. Y/n's heart raced as she stepped out of the car, her eyes darting nervously around the unfamiliar surroundings. This was undoubtedly another one of Joker's mysterious escapades, and she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that tinged the air.

As Y/n followed Joker deeper into the alley, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her gut. The dim lighting and the deserted atmosphere made her skin crawl, but she tried to push aside her fears and focus on Joker's presence beside her.

"Where are we going?" she ventured to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker glanced back at her, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "Somewhere nice, my dear Bunny," he replied cryptically, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Y/n's heart fluttered nervously at his words, unsure of what awaited them at their destination. But she followed him nonetheless. Stopping at a weathered, rust-covered door, Joker pushed it open with a creak. The vibrant lights and pulsating music of a nightclub flooded out, momentarily overwhelming Y/n's senses. Her heart raced as Joker led her inside, the thumping bass reverberating through her chest.

"Cool it, Doll. It's just us," he reassured her, his voice cutting through the cacophony of sound.

As they entered the room, Y/n found herself surrounded by flashing lights and the rhythmic beat of the music with no people. It wasn't a typical nightclub setting, but rather a smaller, more intimate space adjacent to the main dance floor.

Her heart swelled with gratitude as she realized Joker's thoughtfulness. Despite his chaotic nature, he had arranged for a private space just for the two of them, understanding her anxieties and his own need for discretion.

"Dance with me," Joker declared, his eyes alight with mischief as he extended his hand to her.

As the music filled the room, Joker pulled Y/n close, his hand firm on her waist as they swayed to the beat. Y/n's heart raced with excitement and gratitude. Despite the chaos and danger that seemed to follow Joker wherever he went, moments like these made her feel that he was really worth it.

With each step and turn, Y/n couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of belonging in Joker's arms. She was grateful for this moment of peace amidst the turmoil of their unconventional relationship. The music seemed to drown out the world outside, leaving only the two of them in their own little sanctuary.

As they danced, Y/n gazed up at Joker, feeling a surge of affection for the enigmatic man who had captured her heart. In his embrace, she felt safe and loved, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead. She silently thanked whatever fate had brought them together, cherishing this fleeting moment of happiness.

Lost in the rhythm of the music, Y/n couldn't help but revel in the experience, feeling the pulsating beat course through her veins. 

"I've never been to a nightclub before," Y/n admitted, her voice barely audible over the music.

Joker chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Well, you picked the right one for your first time, Bunny," he replied, twirling her around the room.

Y/n laughed, the sound mixing with the music as she allowed herself to be swept away by the moment. It didn't matter where they were or what dangers lurked outside, all that mattered was the warmth of Joker's embrace and the joy of being together.

Joker leaned in close to Y/n's ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Care for a drink, Bunny?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the music.

Y/n nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sure," she replied.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Joker made his way over to the mini bar tucked away in the corner of the room. Expertly, he mixed together a concoction of spirits, his hands moving with practiced ease. After a few moments, he returned to Y/n's side, holding out a glass filled with the vibrant liquid.

"Here you go, my dear," Joker said, offering her the drink with a smirk. "Drink up." “What is it?” Y/n asked, taking a sip. 

"It's a little something I like to call 'Joker's Special'," he replied with a playful wink, watching intently as she took a sip. "Don't worry, Bunny, it's guaranteed to put a smile on your face."

Placing her cup down, Y/n hesitated for a moment, unsure of how Joker would react to her question. But she couldn't shake off her curiosity, and the need for clarity outweighed her apprehension.

"Hey umm… J?" Y/n started, using the new nickname she had given him, hoping to catch his attention.

Joker turned towards her, his piercing gaze fixed on her. "Yes, Doll?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"...How did you know about Max... the first time I mean..." Y/n asked, her voice slightly faltering with uncertainty.

Joker's expression hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What's it to you?" he retorted, his tone sharp and defensive.

"I-I was just curious, that's all," Y/n answered nervously, feeling a sense of unease creeping over her.

Y/n swallowed nervously, sensing the tension in the air. She could tell that Joker was growing increasingly irritated by her questions, but she couldn't let it go.

"It's just... I don't understand how you knew about him," Y/n continued tentatively, trying to tread carefully. "I mean, you're always so... aware of things."

Joker's expression softened slightly at her explanation, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He stepped closer to her, his presence looming over her.

"I have my ways, Doll," he replied, his voice low and measured. "Let's just say I keep tabs on what's important to me."

Y/n's unease deepened at his vague response, but a surge of conflicting emotions washed over her as Joker's words sank in. Despite the cryptic nature of his explanation, the acknowledgment that she was important to him stirred something within her.

Her heart fluttered at the realization, a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of validation coursing through her veins. Despite the uncertainty surrounding their relationship and Joker's unpredictable character, there was a strange comfort in knowing that she held significance in his eyes.

Suppressing the urge to dwell further on the implications of his words, Y/n forced a small smile, grateful for the fleeting moment of assurance amidst the mystery that shrouded their connection. She knew better than to dwell on the problems of their dynamic, choosing instead to embrace the fleeting sense of importance that Joker's acknowledgment bestowed upon her.

As the music continued to pulse through the room, Joker extended his hand toward Y/n, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, Bunny, let's dance," he urged, his voice a playful whisper.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind still grappling with the weight of their conversation. But with a deep breath, she pushed aside her lingering doubts and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her into the center of the room.

Their bodies moved in sync with the rhythm of the music, the space between them filled with an electrifying tension. Y/n found herself getting lost in the moment, the worries and uncertainties of the outside world fading away as she surrendered to the intoxicating allure of the dance.

With each twirl and sway, Y/n felt herself drawn closer to Joker, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with each passing beat. And in that fleeting moment, amidst the pulsating lights and the thumping bass of the music, she allowed herself to forget about everything else and simply revel in the exhilarating freedom of the dance.

-

Y/n was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement as she took the driver's seat of her new car. Y/n was still at that age where driving was fun, but it had been quite some time since she last had the opportunity. Since moving away from her parents, she had relied on walking and public transportation to get around, so the prospect of hitting the road again filled her with giddy anticipation.

As Y/n navigated through the city streets, Joker sat beside her in the passenger seat, his presence filling the car with a playful energy. With every turn of the wheel, his gaze would occasionally drift toward her, his eyes lingering on her profile with a mix of amusement and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

Subtly, Joker's hand found its way to the space between their seats, his fingers grazing against Y/n's arm, clearly on purpose. Each touch sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a tingling sensation that danced along her skin. Despite the thrill of driving her new car, Y/n couldn't help but be acutely aware of Joker's proximity, his touch stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within her.

As they drove through the city, the night air filled with the buzz of activity, Y/n stole glances at Joker whenever she could. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, contrasting with the seriousness of his painted grin.

"Enjoying the drive, Bunny?" Joker's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone light but carrying a hint of something deeper.

Y/n nodded, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "Yeah, it's amazing. Thank you for letting me drive."

Joker chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "It’s yours, Doll. No need to thank me. And I want you to be careful, I don’t want my little Bunny getting hurt."

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. "I'll do my best," she replied, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel as they continued on their journey.

Arriving back at the university dorms, Y/n drove to the parking lot tucked away behind the building. The area was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Cutting the engine, Y/n turned to Joker with a hopeful smile. "Would you like to come in? Stay for a while?"

Joker's grin widened, his eyes alight with mischief. "I'd be delighted," he replied.

Exiting the car, they made their way toward the entrance of the dormitory. Each step echoed in the quiet night, the cool breeze brushing against their skin.

Inside, the dormitory buzzed with activity, the sound of music and chatter drifting through the halls. Y/n led Joker down the familiar corridor, the fluorescent lights casting a dim glow as they walked.

Arriving at her room, Y/n unlocked the door and ushered Joker inside. With a flick of the light switch, the room was bathed in a warm, comforting glow. Joker wasted no time in shedding his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the desk chair before flopping onto the bed, his shoes still firmly planted on his feet.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully at his disregard for her tidiness. "You know how I feel about shoes on the bed," she chided, reaching over to unlace them.

Once his shoes were off, Y/n retrieved a fresh set of pyjamas from her wardrobe. "Close your eyes, please," she asked, slipping out of her own shoes before changing her clothes.

Joker feigned a pout. "But Bunny, I don't want to miss a moment of your beauty," he protested, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide a smile. "You've seen enough of my beauty for one night. Close your eyes," she insisted again, trying to sound stern.

Joker sighed dramatically but complied, shutting his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, but only because you asked so nicely," he teased, flashing her a grin before obediently closing his eyes.

After changing, Y/n turned to find Joker still lounging on her bed, his eyes closed as she had instructed.

"You can open your eyes now," she said, approaching him with a smile.

Joker opened his eyes, grinning at her. "Looking as lovely as ever, Bunny," he remarked, sitting up on the bed.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his compliment. "Thank you," she replied, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her.

Joker patted the space next to him on the bed. "Come here, Bunny. Let's just relax for a bit," he suggested, his tone surprisingly soft.

Y/n joined him on the bed, snuggling into his side as they both settled in. As she leaned against him, Y/n stole a glance at Joker. His faded green hair was unkempt, yet somehow it suited him perfectly. She longed to run her fingers through it, but the memory of the grease that always seemed to coat it made her hesitate. Instead, she admired his features, even beneath the layers of makeup that concealed so much of his true self.

Her gaze lingered on his face, taking in the harsh lines of his scars accentuated by the red makeup. She knew from touching them that they were surprisingly soft, a contradiction to their intimidating appearance. And she couldn't help but wish she could see him without the makeup, to truly witness the man behind the facade.

She longed to kiss him without getting greasy red residue on her face, and to caress his cheek without leaving white handprints everywhere afterwards. Y/n yearned to see the face of the man who brought her unparalleled joy.

Joker peered down at her, his gaze magnetic. "Am I just that dashing, you can't take your eyes off me?" he quipped.

Y/n smirked. "I don't know, it's hard to tell with all that makeup," she retorted, her tone light but tinged with playful teasing. She knew she was pushing boundaries, but she couldn't resist.

Joker chuckled, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Ah, so my Bunny wants to see the man behind the mask, hmm?" he mused, leaning in closer to her.

Y/n felt her heartbeat quicken at his proximity, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins. "Of course I do," she replied coyly, unable to tear her gaze away from his captivating green eyes.

"But the makeup is what adds to the mystique," Joker countered.

"What if I don't want mystique? What if I don't want the Joker... What if I want J?" Y/n questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What makes you think you can handle J?" he added with a smirk.

Y/n groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ugh! You're so frustrating," she said, turning away from him on the small bed.

"Now, is that any way to treat the man who just bought you a car?" Joker playfully put his hand on his hip.

"Stole! You stole me a car," Y/n retorted.

"How do you know I didn’t buy it?" Joker teased.

"You dropped a few thousand bucks in cash in my hands during a bank heist, and you really want me to believe you paid for this car with honest cash?" Y/n countered.

"Just because the cash wasn’t honest, doesn’t mean I didn’t buy it," Joker continued, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at Joker's playful antics, despite the tension that lingered between them moments ago. His unpredictable nature always kept her on her toes, but she found herself drawn to it nonetheless.

"Alright, alright," she said, her laughter subsiding. "Regardless of how you got the car, I appreciate it."

Joker grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "That's my Bunny," he said, pulling her closer into a tight embrace. "Always appreciating my efforts, no matter how... unconventional they may be."

As they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/n smiled. Even though their conversation didn't go exactly as she had hoped, Joker still managed to put a smile on her face.

-

The next day, Y/n found herself walking with a newfound lightness in her step. The previous night had left her feeling great, the joy of their time together momentarily overshadowing her usual anxieties. Moreover, she appreciated the gesture from J, who had woken her up to say goodbye before leaving, a departure from his usual habit of slipping away silently while she slept. It seemed their relationship was evolving in a direction she welcomed.

Entering the lecture hall, Y/n descended the steps with a sense of anticipation. However, her momentum halted as a familiar voice called out her name.

“Hey, Y/n!” It was Max.

His friendly demeanor and wave caught her attention, and as she turned towards him, he motioned for her to join him. An internal conflict brewed within her as she hesitated. While Max had been nothing but kind, the warnings from Joker lingered in her mind like a shadow.

Nevertheless, she couldn't bear the thought of disregarding Max's invitation, especially after his gesture of friendliness. So, with a tight smile, Y/n made her way over to sit beside him.

“Hey, Max,” she greeted, trying to mask her unease.

“Did you have a good night?” Max inquired, his tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Y/n replied vaguely, opting not to divulge any specifics.

As the lecture began, Y/n tried to focus on the material, but her mind kept drifting. She couldn't shake off the feeling of being stuck. From the second Y/n had met Max, Joker was on her back about it, but she found it impossible to avoid him.

Throughout the class, Max occasionally leaned over to share a comment or joke, and Y/n found herself smiling in response, grateful for the distraction. Yet, each interaction with Max reminded her of the complicated web of secrets she was entangled in.

After the lecture ended, Max turned to Y/n with a friendly grin. "Hey, do you want to grab a drink or something? The cafe near the hub has this new drink I want to try out."

Y/n hesitated, torn between her desire to maintain a semblance of normalcy and the weight of her unconventional relationship with Joker. She glanced at her phone, noticing a text on her phone from an unknown id. Assuming it was just a spam message, Y/n ignored it, looking back up at Max.

"Yeah, sure," Y/n replied with a faint smile.

Exiting the lecture hall, Y/n and Max strolled down the corridor side by side, their footsteps echoing against the carpeted floor. As they reached the cafe, they paused in front of the wall menu, scanning the array of options before them.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Max turned to Y/n with a grin. "What do you feel like having today?"

Y/n shrugged, scanning the menu once more. "I'm not sure, maybe just a smoothie."

"Sounds good to me," Max nodded, stepping aside to let Y/n order first.

As Y/n stepped up to the counter to place her order, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. Despite her resolve to avoid getting too close to Max, she couldn't help but appreciate his kindness. Yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease, knowing Joker's disapproval lingered in the back of her mind.

After ordering her smoothie, Y/n stepped aside to let Max place his order. Their drinks were quickly made. With their drinks in hand, Y/n and Max found a table by the window, the warm sunlight streaming in, casting a gentle glow over their conversation. Max seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better, asking about her hobbies, interests, and aspirations. Y/n found herself opening up more than she had expected, drawn in by his genuine curiosity and friendly demeanour.

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Glancing around the cafe, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a familiar figure standing across the street, obscured in the shadows. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/n recognized Joker immediately, his green locks standing out like a beacon in the crowd, even under a hoodie. 

It was as if her heart stopped as she saw Joker's unmasked face. Gone were the layers of black white and red paint that usually concealed his identity, revealing features that were both haunting and strangely attractive. His eyes, once obscured by dark makeup, now bore into hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The scars that marred his face were stark against his pale skin, a testament to the trials he had endured. Yet, there was an unexpected softness to his expression, a vulnerability that lay hidden beneath the facade of menace. In that moment, Y/n realized that the man before her was not just the Joker, but someone infinitely more complex.

His glare, though obscured from this distance, seemed to taunt her from afar, filling her with a sense of dread that crept up her spine like icy fingers. 

The mere sight of him sent a chill through her, as if his gaze could pierce through the glass and lock onto her own. Despite her attempts to focus on the conversation with Max, her mind kept returning to the ominous figure she had glimpsed, his presence casting a pall over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the cafe.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she spotted Joker, her heart hammering against her ribs. Panic surged through her veins, the last thing she wanted was for Max to become entangled in the chaotic mess that was her life with Joker, especially after the continuous warnings he had given her.

"Um, Max," Y/n interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "I think we should go. Now."

Max turned to follow her gaze, but by the time his eyes scanned outside, Joker had vanished into the university campus. Y/n's unease lingered like a heavy fog, her mind racing with the implications of Joker's sudden appearance.

"Is everything okay?" Max asked, concerned about etching his features.

Y/n forced a smile, but her nerves were on edge. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just... let's head to the hub, okay?"

Despite Max's protests, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her like a second skin. As they made their way back to the safety of the university grounds, her mind raced with the unanswered questions and the unsettling presence of the man she couldn't seem to escape.

And then her phone suddenly rang. The weight of the phone in her hand felt heavier than usual, each vibration a tangible reminder of the uncertainty that plagued her mind. Y/n's fingers trembled as she gingerly pulled her phone from her pocket, her heart pounding against her chest like a drumbeat of foreboding. The familiar sensation of dread washed over her as she stared at the screen, the words "Unknown Caller" glaring back at her like a sinister omen.

Max glanced back at her. "You need to get that?" he asked, his voice filled with understanding.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts, before nodding. "U-uh, yeah. Sorry, just a second," she replied, stepping aside to answer the call.

The bustling sounds of the university corridor seemed to fade into the background as she grappled with the decision to answer the call. Her mind raced with a flurry of anxious thoughts, each one a relentless echo of her fears. She knew exactly who it was, there was no denying it. With a shaky inhale, she finally mustered the courage to swipe her thumb across the screen, accepting the call with a trembling hand.

The ringing ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Every second felt like an eternity as she waited for the voice on the other end to break the stillness, her pulse pounding in her ears like a relentless drumbeat of apprehension.

Her breath caught in her throat as she brought the phone to her ear, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other end. "Hello?"

"Go back to your dorm, now," came the chilling voice on the line, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n's hands began to tremble, her voice faltering as she tried to reason with him. "J, come on... you can't be-"

"You're going to go home now before I make a scene in front of your precious boy toy," Joker interrupted, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

Desperation welled up inside her as she pleaded with him. "J, you know it's not like that!"

"Do you really want to test me?" Joker's voice dripped with menace, sending a cold chill down her spine.

Y/n's heart plummeted like a stone sinking into the depths of a river as the call abruptly ended, leaving her with a gnawing sense of unease. Yet, all she was met with was the stark emptiness of the phone's display, a silent testament to the uncertainty that loomed over her.

Slowly, she looked away from the device, the weight of it feeling heavier in her trembling hands. With a heavy sigh, she tucked it back into her pocket, though the sense of dreed it had evoked lingered like a shadow cast across her thoughts.

Forcing herself to push aside the lingering unease, Y/n plastered a strained smile onto her lips as she rejoined Max. Despite her efforts to appear composed, the facade felt brittle and fragile, threatening to crumble with each passing moment. Yet, she knew she couldn't let her anxiety show, not when Max was standing beside her, oblivious to the turmoil churning within her.

With a deliberate effort, Y/n willed herself to focus on the present, pushing aside the unsettling encounter with Joker and the mysterious phone call that followed. But deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of dread that had taken root in the depths of her being, casting a pall over even the simplest of interactions.

"Hey, sorry, Max. I need to get going," she said, her voice strained with apprehension.

Max nodded understandingly, though concern flickered in his eyes. "That's all good."

"Thanks for hanging out with me...bye," Y/n forced the words out, her heart heavy with worry.

"See ya," Max replied, offering a small smile before turning and walking away, leaving Y/n to grapple with the uncertain future that lay ahead.

With each step back to her dorm, Y/n felt as though she was wading through a thick fog of dread, her every movement weighed down by the oppressive atmosphere of uncertainty and fear. The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before her, its shadowy corners harbouring unseen threats that lurked just beyond her line of sight.

As she approached the worn wooden door of her dormitory, her heart pounded against her chest like a relentless drumbeat, the sound reverberating in her ears and drowning out all other noise. Each click of the key turning in the lock echoed through the stillness of the hallway, a stark reminder of her vulnerability in the face of the unknown.

A sense of foreboding washed over her as she reached for the doorknob, her fingers trembling with a mixture of hesitation and dread. The air around her seemed to crackle with tension, electrified by the presence that loomed ominously close behind her.

And then, as if from the depths of her darkest nightmares, his voice sliced through the silence like a knife, sending a chill down her spine and freezing her in place.

"Open the door, Doll," his words slithered into her ear like tendrils of cold, his breath ghosting over her skin with an icy touch that sent shivers cascading down her spine.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the key, her breath coming in shallow gasps. With a shaky twist, she finally managed to unlock the door, pushing it open with a creak. The room lay before her, the atmosphere suddenly growing cold.

It was Joker the closed the door. Joker's arm encircled her waist, his touch sending shivers down her spine. With a gentle yet firm grip, he guided her to face him, but she refused to look at him.

"Look at me, Bunny," he urged, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill through her bones.

Y/n hesitated, her eyes flickering with fear and uncertainty. "I-I don't want to," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not? Don't you want to see the face of your beloved J?" Joker's tone was taunting, his lips curling into a twisted grin.

"It's not that... I just... I want to see you when you're not angry with me," Y/n admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and longing.

Joker's grip tightened slightly, his other hand lifting to caress her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "And why do you think I'm angry with you, hmm?" he questioned, his voice soft yet tinged with an underlying edge of menace.

Y/n's words faltered as Joker's arm enveloped her, pulling her closer against his chest. She dared not utter another word as his presence loomed over her, enveloping her in a mixture of fear and desire.

Joker's lips brushed against her ear in a rough yet possessive kiss, sending a shiver down her spine. "Talk," he commanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through her bones.

"I'm sorry, J. Please, Max, he's just a friend. You know that," Y/n pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

"You're mine, Bunny. That means you belong to me and no one else," Joker asserted, his grip tightening on the necklace around her neck as he held it up for emphasis. "You see this? This J? That mean’s you’re mine." he growled, his voice laced with possessiveness.

"I-I'm allowed to have friends," Y/n insisted, her voice quivering with defiance.

"Why would you need anyone else when you have me?" Joker demanded, his tone laced with jealousy and anger.

"You're hardly ever around," Y/n shot back, her words tinged with frustration.

Joker's presence darkened at her retort, his breathing becoming labored with suppressed rage. "If it were up to me, you'd be tied up in my hideout, where only I can see you, where only I can know you," he spat, his words dripping with possessive intensity.

Y/n's heart raced as Joker's words hung heavy in the air, filling the room with tension. She could feel his grip on her tightening, his presence overwhelming her senses.

"Please, J, you're scaring me," Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.

Joker's expression softened slightly at her plea, but the possessive gleam in his eyes remained. "You should be scared, Bunny," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You belong to me, and I won't accept anyone trying to take you away from me."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat and her eyes already pouring with tears as she struggled to find the right words to calm him down. She knew that Joker's jealousy was irrational, but she also knew that trying to reason with him in this state would only make things worse.

"I understand, J. I belong to you," she said softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I won't let anyone come between us."

Joker's grip on her loosened slightly at her words, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "That's my good girl," he murmured, pressing a possessive kiss to her neck.

Y/n turned around, but still didn’t look at his face. As Y/n buried her face in his chest, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. She knew that her relationship with Joker was anything but ordinary, but she also knew that she couldn't bear to be without him, no matter how possessive and volatile he could be.

-

Joker had left shortly after their tense encounter, claiming he had "work to do." Y/n remained in her bed, the weight of their conversation heavy on her mind. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she grappled with the conflicting emotions churning inside her. 

Each word exchanged with Joker echoed in her mind, replaying like a haunting melody that refused to fade. The conflicting emotions churned within her like a tempest, pulling her in opposite directions with relentless force. Fear and uncertainty clawed at her heart, gnawing away at her resolve and leaving her feeling utterly drained. Despite the familiarity of these emotions, their intensity seemed to suffocate her, drowning her in a sea of doubt and apprehension.

After spending most of the day in bed, Y/n finally mustered the strength to get up. She knew she needed something to lift her spirits, even if just for a moment. With her stash of snacks depleted, a trip to the dairy for a drink or a treat seemed like the only option to get through the night.

Grabbing her wallet, Y/n ventured out into the dimly lit streets of Gotham. Despite the familiar unease that settled over her, she pressed on, her determination to escape her own thoughts overshadowing any fear of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

As Y/n walked down the dimly lit streets of Gotham, her senses heightened by the eerie silence of the night, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone struggling around the corner. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as she hesitated, uncertain whether to investigate or flee from potential danger.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she cautiously approached the corner, the rhythmic thuds of her heart echoing in her ears. Peering around the edge, her breath caught in her throat as she beheld a scene that froze her in terror.

Down the dimly lit street, illuminated by the faint glow of flickering streetlights, she saw Joker, his menacing silhouette towering over a figure writhing on the ground. Anguished cries pierced the silence, sending shivers down her spine as she watched in horror.

Just as she watched Joker lift his leg, poised to deliver a brutal blow, Y/n's scream pierced the night air like a gunshot. "J, No!" she yelled, her voice cracking with desperation.

Joker froze mid-motion, his eyes locking onto Y/n with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Uhh, Doll... Don't you have comedic timing, come to watch, have you?" he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Heart pounding in her chest, Y/n approached cautiously, her gaze fixated on the figure lying defenseless at Joker's feet. As she drew closer, the dim light revealed the familiar features of Max, battered and bruised, his face contorted in pain.

"Max!" Y/n cried out, her voice trembling with anguish as she attempted to rush to his aid. But before she could reach him, Joker's vice-like grip on her arm yanked her back with a forceful tug, halting her in her tracks.

Max lay on the ground, gasping for air as blood trickled down his battered face. Y/n's heart clenched at the sight of him, his once lively eyes now dull with pain. "J! Why?" she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Joker shrugged indifferently, a smirk playing on his lips. "Had to send a message somehow, Doll," he replied casually, as if discussing the weather.

Y/n's sobs grew louder, her voice choked with anguish. "P-please... Please don’t kill him," she begged, her desperation palpable.

Joker tilted his head, considering her plea with feigned interest. "Hmm, now why would I listen to you? You didn’t listen to me," he taunted, his tone dripping with malice.

Panic surged through Y/n as she fell to her knees, grasping desperately at Joker's arm. "I’m sorry, you were right, I should have listened. Please just leave him alone. Come back to my dorm with me, please!" she pleaded, her words a desperate plea for mercy.

Joker's gaze softened slightly at Y/n's tearful plea, but his resolve remained firm. With a sigh, he released Y/n's grip and took a step back, gesturing to Max with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Consider yourself lucky this time, Bunny," he said, his voice laced with a warning. "But don't forget this little token of generosity."

Joker's footsteps echoed loudly against the silent streets as he dragged Y/n alongside him, his presence looming over her like a shadow. Y/n cast a worried glance back at Max's bloody form on the concrete, her heart heavy with guilt and fear.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, his tone sending a chill down Y/n's spine.

Y/n's stomach churned with unease as they continued their journey back to her dorm, the weight of Joker's words hanging heavy in the air. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped her, knowing that she had once again crossed a line she couldn't uncross.

As they approached her dormitory, Y/n's heart raced with apprehension. She knew Joker's presence would only bring more chaos into her already turbulent life, yet she couldn't deny the strange allure he held over her.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n unlocked the door and stepped inside, feeling Joker's presence loom behind her. She glanced back at him, her eyes pleading silently for him to leave, but he remained unfazed, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Come on, Bunny, let's have a little chat," Joker said, his voice dripping with a mixture of menace and amusement.

Y/n's stomach churned with dread as she led Joker into her dimly lit room, the weight of their unresolved tensions hanging thick in the air. She braced herself for whatever was to come, knowing that with Joker, nothing was ever as it seemed.

As they entered her room, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She stood by the door, her eyes darting nervously between Joker and the cramped space around them.

Joker strolled into the room with a casual swagger, his eyes glinting with mischief as he surveyed his surroundings. He seemed to take delight in the discomfort he caused, relishing in the tension that hung thick in the air.

"So, Bunny, let’s talk." Joker's voice was laced with a dangerous edge, his tone daring her to defy him.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing as she searched for the right words to placate him. She knew she was treading on thin ice, and one wrong move could have dire consequences. But beneath the fear, there was a flicker of defiance burning within her, a stubborn refusal to bow down to his every whim.

"I-I just... I thought... Maybe... I have no friend’s J…" Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker's lips curled into a sinister grin, his eyes narrowing into menacing slits. "And that’s a problem?" he growled, his words dripping with venom.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of Joker's relentless dominance. She knew she was trapped in his web, with no way out but to play by his rules. And as Joker advanced towards her with a predatory gleam in his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer she could endure this twisted game of cat and mouse.

Joker's presence loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. He reached out, his fingers curling around her chin to tilt her face up to meet his gaze. 

"Bunny, why do you need friends when you have me?" His voice was honeyed, persuasive, but beneath the smooth exterior lurked a darkness that sent shivers down her spine.

"You're all I need, Y/n. Friends are nothing but distractions, pulling you away from what truly matters," Joker continued, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to resist the pull of his words. She knew deep down that he was wrong, that she needed human connection beyond the twisted confines of her relationship with Joker. But his persuasive words wormed their way into her mind, clouding her judgment and leaving her feeling utterly powerless.

"Besides, who needs friends when you have me to take care of you?" Joker's voice took on a seductive tone, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

Y/n's resolve wavered as she found herself drawn into his web of manipulation. She wanted to believe that she could break free from his control, but with each passing moment, it seemed that Joker's hold over her grew stronger. And as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find a way out of this twisted dance with the devil.

As Joker's words sank in, Y/n felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Part of her wanted to push him away, to break free from his manipulative grasp and reclaim control over her own life. But another part of her, the part that had grown accustomed to his presence and the twisted comfort he offered, hesitated.

"I... I guess you're right," Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of Joker's lips as he leaned back, releasing his hold on her chin. "Of course, I am, Bunny. I always know what's best for you," he purred, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Y/n forced a weak smile, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders. She knew deep down that she was sacrificing her own happiness for the sake of appeasing Joker, but the fear of his wrath and the allure of his promises were too potent to resist.

"Thank you, J," Y/n said softly, her voice tinged with resignation.

Joker's grin widened, a predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. "Anytime, Bunny. Remember, you're mine, and I'll always take care of you," he whispered, his words wrapping around her like tendrils of smoke.

As Y/n nestled into Joker's embrace on her bed, she couldn't shake the heaviness that settled over her. Despite being in Joker's arms, a sense of unease gnawed at her insides, casting a shadow over the supposed comfort of their closeness. Yet, she clung to him, desperately seeking reassurance that his presence alone could provide. After all, if she had Joker by her side, everything had to be alright...right?

-

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this part two to come out but I am so happy to have finished it! I've had it on my mind for AGES but I've had three assignments to get done and then three tests to study for so I thought it would be best to focus on uni first before writing anything and I am SO glad to have gotten them out of the way :P I really liked writing this part because I got to make Joker a bit of a dick. I hope you all enjoyed it and thank you again @chaos-4baby for requesting a part two, I cannot explain how much it means to me, like fr. You are amazing and the queen of Joker fics (Joker's Queen) and thank you to everyone else who did as well, love you all 💚