wolfe-industries - Tumblr blog

[wolfe-industries]

🧣 Ryan

RYAN LOPEZ CAUSES A STINK AT WAYNE ENTERPRISE FUNDRAISER

“you do realize the invitation said formal wear?” bruce held his expression, deprecating amusement showing in the lifted corners of his mouth, and he could see others in the room looking at the woman in front of him with open shock.

“get off it, wayne. you know i can’t read,” ryan lopez said with a lazy wave of her hand. he wanted to laugh, truly laugh, as lopez lifted her chin and bared her teeth in a smile. she enjoyed making others uncomfortable, loved putting her new contemporaries on edge, and she was thriving on the looks of disgusted astonishment. unfortunately, he couldn’t give her the look that she had worked so hard for. not when he respected her commitment. the latest news had taken to calling her penthouse trash, moving up from trailer trash, and the illiterate joke had been circulating since her societal debut.

“could have saved this look for your own company’s benefit,” he pointed out. he’d spent too much time near her, he needed to leave and mingle properly, but lopez was always surprising him. he would leave and put on the show expected of him, but he wanted another moment with the woman who treated him like any other man.

“felt like doing something special for you,” she told him through a grin. as he looked down at her, she rocked up onto the toes of her battered leather boots and locked onto his eyes. “if you owned wolfe industries though, i’d show up in one of those pretty glittering dresses.”

he made a show of considering her words, let his eyes move leisurely across her body to take in the bared skin and prominent scars before meeting her eyes again, and he made note of the subtle changes in her posture. still on her toes, now with her knees angled to the side. hands at her sides, with her fingers starting to curl inwards. wide smile getting tight in the corners. she was either preparing to fight or to run. he’d seen her do both.

“your natural look is more preferable,” he said with a little too much sincerity. to cover, he dropped his eyes to the swath of skin on display across her midsection and then looked up long enough to wink before turning on his heel. as he called out and raised his hand in greeting to a man standing next to a woman in a glittering dress, he kept seeing the look on lopez’s face. the roiling anger in her dark eyes, the slash of her mouth, the dark flush spreading to her cheeks. the not-so-quiet mutter of, “fuck you, wayne.” socializing had become less of a chore since the arrival of ryan lopez, and he wondered if one day he’d get to thank her for that.

[wolfe-industries]

❤️Spreading Love Giveaway❤️

For @raith-way requested by @asirensrage

Message from @asirensrage: I know you're going through a rough patch and I hope this makes you smile.

💕 Forever Taglist: @bravelittleflower @kendelias @sunlitscrib​ @eddysocs @jvstjewels @raith-way @hughstheforcelou @decennia @hiddenqveendom @stanshollaand @foxesandmagic @booty-boggins @asirensrage @eleanorstulip​💕

[wolfe-industries]

incorrect quotes

➲ featuring the bat & the beast

Ryan: Here’s some advice.

Bats: I didn’t ask for any.

Ryan: Too bad. I’m stuck here with my thoughts and you’re the only one who talks to me.

Bruce: Go to hell.

Ryan, tearing up: I wish I could.

Ryan: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Bruce: I think you mean cards.

Ryan, pulling knives out of her sleeves: No, I do not.

Bruce: So that’s my plan.

Ryan: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean.

Bruce: No, go ahead, I want to hear it.

Ryan: It fucking sucks.

Bruce: That’s not constructive criticism.

Ryan: You’re right.

Bruce: That’s…That’s an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

all quotes taken from here

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Forever: @jinxsflame @waterloou @lamborghiniboyo @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jvstjewels @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[wanna be added? just send an ask!!]

[wolfe-industries]

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back

“Sometimes,” Ryan thought as she looked out at the rippling water of the lake, “I miss arguing with Wayne. Things were simpler then.”

No matter what else was going on in her life or on any particular day, Ryan had known exactly who Wayne was and what to expect from him. (That wasn’t true though, was it? Even when goading him and enduring his every word, something had always felt wrong to her. She missed the blissful ignorance of their earliest encounters.) There was a time when she thought she knew Bats, to a limited extent. Some guy in a mask creeping through the dark in a futile effort to make the world better. (Nothing could make the world better, not enough for it to truly count. To truly make a difference.) Everything she thought she knew had been wrong, and now she knew Bruce. He wasn’t so easy to understand. He wasn’t just a combination of Wayne and Bats, but he wasn’t wholly separate either. He was all mixed up, broken pieces crammed into skin just as ruined as hers, and Ryan wanted to protect him.

As the wind picked up outside and caused small waves in the lake, Ryan scoffed at her own thoughts. Whatever changes she had been through, she had no right to protect Bruce. Not from people with cameras who wanted a glimpse of him or the people that wanted to use him for their own benefits. She had no right to protect him from Gotham’s criminals, those that prowled the streets at night while constantly looking over their shoulders for Gotham’s protector. As ridiculous as the notion was, there was something that she could protect Bruce from. Just one simple thing, and she could be selfless enough to do it. That was why she was here, why she had come to the lakehouse. It was why she was standing in the living room, in a neutral space, while she waited for him to come home. He’d told her when he’d be back, apparently telling each other little things like that was something that they did now, and she raised her hand up to press against the tightening of her throat. Felt torn skin, the rough edges of scars, and strengthened her resolve as she heard purposefully loud footsteps. Bruce was making an effort not to startle her. How sweet of him.

“Thought you’d be downstairs,” he said as he crossed into the living room. Yeah, going into Bruce’s underground lair hadn’t been an option. She was going to need to make a quick escape, so she’d stayed in the main part of the house. Ryan wanted to keep watching the lake, the moving water was almost calming, but she lowered her hands to her sides and turned around instead.

“We need to talk,” she told him and immediately winced. Starting this conversation with those words was such a cliché that she hated herself for every syllable, and Bruce had changed since the last time she saw him. This morning, he’d been wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt. All soft cotton. Now he was wearing a tux, that was slowly starting to unravel.

“Nothing good ever comes after those words,” Bruce sighed. His shoulders lifted and fell with the sound, and his black suit jacket slid down his arms. He tossed the jacket onto the nearby couch, without even looking to see if it landed where he intended, and then started working on undoing his cuffs. His bowtie was already loose around his collar, strips of black falling down the white shirt.

“This morning,” she started. For such a large man, he was surprisingly graceful. His fingers moved easily, slipping his cuffs free and then starting to roll his sleeves up. The entire time, his eyes were lifted to look straight at her.

“This morning was, unexpected,” he finally settled on. Unexpected? He had kissed her, like it was a natural thing to do. Like it was right. Had stepped into her space, one hand on her hip and the other reaching past her for his coffee, and she had looked up. Had looked up at him and smiled, because he hadn’t bothered to brush his hair after rising from bed and had looked so wonderfully human standing in his kitchen, and he had kissed her. Soft, warm, right.

“This morning can never happen again.” Her voice was even, tone firm, and his brows raised in question as he propped his hands on his hips. Keeping himself open instead of closed off, showing his willingness to listen to her. She knew that because she knew him.

“Can I ask why?” Bruce rarely asked for explanations. He preferred demands, in all of his different personas. That was something they all had in common. The need to know things.

“I’m not the person you want.” She could see his mind working, going over their late night and early morning conversations, because she was thinking over the same words. Ryan knew Bruce, but he knew her too. “I know you think I am.”

“I know, exactly, who you are.” Bruce’s voice was quiet and harsh, each word like a blow, and she forced herself to keep looking at him. Forced herself to start walking forward, towards him. Forced herself to get within touching distance, and she had to tip her head back to hold eye contact.

“I don’t. After everything, I don’t know who I am anymore,” she admitted. She’d told him once, that she hated that he knew everything about her when she could barely recognize herself at times. She hated him now, because they’d found a balance with each other and he’d ruined it.

“I’m not asking you for anything, Ryan.” His hand raised, like he wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder, and she ducked away from his hand. Ignored the quick flash of hurt in his direct eyes and the way his arms crossed over his chest. (Not being defensive, like people assumed the move meant. Protecting himself.)

“The thought will be there, for both of us. The what if? that we can’t answer,” she pointed out. She’d thought of nothing else all day. How easy it would be. How disastrous it would be. Depending on his friendship was already enough to break her. If they ever became anything more? It would destroy her. In the end, he would destroy whatever was left of her. In the end, she would rip apart all his pieces and burn him to ashes.

“You’re running away again.” Bruce’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but her own arms raised to wrap around her stomach anyway. Her own protective stance. Ryan had run from him before. Never from Wayne, never from Bats, but she had run from Bruce. The worst thing? She always came back, like she just couldn’t help herself. Like the person she was now didn’t know how to exist away from him, and that couldn’t be healthy. Hadn’t she promised him that she’d try to take better care of herself? Couldn’t he tell that she was trying to help both of them? “Are you that afraid of being with me?”

“No,” she said in a choked whisper. She kept one arm pressed tight across her stomach as she reached up with her right, until Bruce’s scruff scraped softly against her palm. Her fingertips brushed by his eyes, that soft skin that wasn’t as dark as it used to be, and she hated that he turned into her touch instead of pulling away. “I’m afraid of how much I want to be with you.”

“Then stay here, be with me.” He moved closer with each word, until she could feel the heat of him and smell explosive cologne. Until her bare arm brushed against the soft material of his shirt, because she hadn’t stopped touching him. How could she when he so rarely allowed anyone to really touch him?

“I can do that,” she heard herself say. With Bruce, she might learn how to feel happy again. He’d made her feel when she had been reduced to nothing, so it was possible. She couldn’t be that selfish with him. Ryan, on her bad days, was so filled with anger that she wanted to tear the world apart with her bare hands. On her worst days, she felt nothing at all. Now that she knew every hidden crevice of who Bruce Wayne was, she knew that he deserved better than that. So she forced herself to continue, “But it won’t take long for you to realize this is a mistake.”

“Isn’t that my choice?” was his quick counter. Bruce was always quick, ready for any argument, but he wasn’t going to win this time. Ryan gave herself a moment, let her hand drift down to the side of his throat to feel his strong pulse as her face pushed against the center of his chest to feel the solid strength of him, and she breathed him in. For a single moment, she felt content.

“It’s my decision, and I’m choosing to leave,” she whispered. Her lips brushed across one of the small buttons on his shirt as she spoke, and then she pulled herself away. Slipped around him with ease and walked out of the living room, and she didn’t hear footsteps behind her.

“You can’t run away from all your problems.” Bruce didn’t yell, just raised his voice enough for her to hear him, and she paused. Turning around and walking into Bruce’s arms would be easy, but she wasn’t going to do the easy thing. She was going to do the right thing. She looked over her shoulder, but Bruce hadn’t turned to face her. He was the one looking out at the lake now.

“You’re not a problem, Bruce, and I’m not running. I’m walking,” she said and did just that.

Written For: Angst Prompts by @fyeahsuperverseocs

Angst Prompt: “I’m not the person you want. I know you think I am. But it won’t take long for you to realize this is a mistake.”

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[wolfe-industries]

Ryan and Bruce

Cute 20 & Spooky 18

Thank you for the ask/prompt! I love these two, which is why I wrote for them first, and I actually managed to write something non-angsty for them!

Ryan & Bruce [otp: mutually assured destruction]

Warm Welcome [cute #20: first frost of the year]

Ryan woke up to two very unexpected surprises, and she added in the unexpected despite the obvious definition of the word surprise because of how caught off guard she was. The sweater she had fallen asleep in did nothing to ward off the chill as she emerged from unconsciousness, and she hissed as cold air hit her bare legs after swinging her blanket off of her. It’d been cold the night before, but not so cold that she’d felt the need to find a pair of pants to sleep in or even pull on a pair of socks. Now she hopped from foot to foot as she crossed the wooden floors of her bedroom, and her breath showed in a pale cloud in front of her face as she moved to the single window in her bedroom. Ice had crept across the glass while she slept, and she pressed her fingers against the edge of forming frost. She was shivering, acutely aware of the temperature since all she was wearing was the sweater and a pair of panties, but she couldn’t stop looking outside long enough to go find some more clothes.

In Banshee City, there was never any real snow. Occasional ice, yes, but not until much closer to Christmastime. She hadn’t been expecting it to get this cold, this fast. Down below, people were fully bundled up and moving quickly to get to their destinations. (The people here always moved quickly, as a safety precaution, but it seemed like the cold gave them some extra motivation to get to where they were going.) Outside, ice had formed along everything. The rough bricks of the buildings, the cracked sidewalks, and around the perimeter of her small window. Her breath puffed out against the glass, fogging it up, and she tugged her sweater sleeve down over her hand to wipe the glass. Small little circles until she could see the outside world again.

“You know.” She tensed at the sound of the voice and then instantly relaxed as she recognized it, and she turned to greet her second surprise of the morning as he continued talking. “My house keeps the internal temperature regulated. If you were there, you wouldn’t be shivering right now.”

“Bruce!” She saw his cheek twitch, under the thick scruff of a beard that he was apparently growing, just before she threw herself at him. She hadn’t been expecting him back for at least another week, possibly longer, but he was here. Arms caught her easily, swept her up into the air and pulled her in, and she locked her legs around the soft material of a padded jacket that still had cold ice starting to drip from the back of it.

“You miss me?” he asked as her arms wound around his neck. Bruce was freezing, especially against the bare parts of her skin, but she didn’t care. He’d been gone for almost a month, and she had missed him. Missed him enough to admit to it, just not to his face. So she ducked down to nuzzle under his jaw, felt the scrape of his beard against her cheek, and reached up to bury her cold fingers in his thick hair.

“I might have missed you, a little,” she whispered. He must have been wearing gloves at some point, because his hands were warm as they swept up her thighs to rest easily on her hips under her sweater. Technically, under his sweater that she had taken for herself.

“You could have missed me from the lakehouse.” His hands were warm against her back, pulling her tighter against him, and she shifted to run her cold nose against his cheek.

“And miss seeing you actually show up here? Not a chance,” she laughed. Bruce hated her apartment, hated that she had chosen to live in Gotham’s crime-filled East End, but she felt more at home here. At least, she did when Bruce was gone. The lakehouse didn’t feel like home without Bruce there.

“Will you come back with me now?” Ryan pulled back to look at him properly, and there was still a hint of a smile over his expression. Softening the line of his mouth and putting a little extra warmth in his eyes. Her hands moved to the front of his face, fingers scratching through the beard that was new and different against her skin, and she leaned forward to feel that newness against her lips.

“Only if you promise to keep this for a little bit longer,” she bargained. She tightened her thighs around him, just enough for him to feel the pressure, and felt one hand pressing solidly against the center of her back.

“Only if you promise to keep this on,” he added and used his other hand to pull on the bottom hem of the sweater she’d taken from his closet. She thought that over, the feeling of warm cotton and soft scruff against her skin, and pulled back with a smile.

“Deal.”

Here Lies [spooky #18: an ancient mausoleum, stone door crumbling]

The grass was so soft under her feet, a cushion for every step forward, but where were her shoes? Ryan never walked around outside barefoot, just in case something happened and she needed to take off running. She continued forward, and she looked up. The sky was dark, moon hanging full and swollen in the otherwise dark night, but she couldn’t see any stars. It should have been cold, but the breeze that lifted her hair from her neck was soothing. A balm against her aggravated skin, and her eyes closed as she kept moving forward. She didn’t need to have her eyes open to know where she was going. She let herself enjoy the moment. The tickle of grass against the bare bottoms of her feet, warm dew brushing against her ankles, and that rolling breeze under the starless night.

“This isn’t right,” she thought as the grass changed. The softness twisted, thickened and pushed, and her eyes stayed closed as she winced. Dead hardened grass cut against her skin, ripped at the bottoms of her feet and pulled above her ankles, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t go back. Had to keep pushing forward. The breeze was hot now, licking against the back of her neck like some great beast following at her heels.

Ryan opened her eyes as everything went perfectly still, perfectly quiet, and there was a door in front of her. Tall and imposing, thick stone, a darker gray even in the moonlight. One hand reached out, fingertips brushed against the center of the door, and she watched as it started to break. First, a single crack down the middle. Loud as thunder. She reached out with both hands, dug her fingers into the stone, and started to pull. Stone crumbled under her hands and landed at her feet, a fine dust to soothe the places where she was still bleeding, and she couldn’t stop. Kept pulling and tearing at the door, and when did she start screaming? Her throat burned as she screamed up at the sky, at the moon that loomed above her and slowly started to bleed red, and the stone door was crumbled into nothingness. Not even dust was left on her fingertips, and she locked her teeth together as she continued forward.

The inside of the mausoleum was cold, freezing. Her bare feet burned against the cold floor as she walked inside, and the air burrowed under her clothes to slip under her skin. This was an ancient place, colder than the deepest depths of hell, and she wanted to run. Wanted to be back in Bruce’s warm bed, with his solid arms around her and grounding her, but she couldn’t stop. She kept walking forward, always forward, and her bottom lip quivered as she looked to her right. The walls were stone, just as solid as the door had been, with names carved deep into them.

Emil Dietrich.

Her step-father always had grease on his hands, from the mechanic’s shop, and he had laughed with his entire body.

Maria Dietrich.

Her mother had a soft voice, perfect for singing lullabies and telling bedtime stories, and she had smelled like lemon and vanilla.

Harrison Dietrich.

The oldest of her younger brothers, sweet baby Harry, wanted to be an engineer. Wanted to build and create and make the world beautiful.

Bernard Dietrich.

Her littlest brother that was destined to tower over them all, fierce darling Bear, had wanted to know everything about everything. Had wanted to learn as much as he could.

Chelsea Dietrich.

Her baby sister, bubbly tenacious Chels, had been the brightest part of her life. Had come to her whenever she wanted to feel safe or needed a hand to hold.

Ryan’s fingers pulled at her hair, because she could hear them. Hear them all behind the stone, crying out. Screaming from the bullets and the fire, from the things that ripped them apart and turned them to ash. Asking where she was, why she wasn’t there with them. Hadn’t she been there with them? Torn apart, set ablaze, and locked in the darkness? Even Ryan’s screams couldn’t drown them out. Not even her apologies, for daring to keep breathing and for existing out in the light, could get them to quiet. She thought she could even hear the stone starting to shift, to break apart, as they tried to claw their way out of the darkness. She belonged with them and had left, so now they were going to join her. As the first stone cracked, allowing a small hand to slip free, Ryan stumbled away and turned to press her face against the opposite wall.

The mausoleum was filled with screams, begging questions and yelled accusations, and Ryan pushed harder against the stone wall as hands started to pull at her. Grease stained fingers around her ankles and a small hand curling around her left wrist. Her eyes opened as she was pulled back, as hands that smelled like rot and lemon circled softly around her throat, and she saw the name carved in the stone ahead of her. The name that she had pressed her face against. Thickly carved lines, stark and shining wetly in the darkness as more hands pulled her backwards. As words were whispered, asking her to stay. Telling her to stay where she belonged. Reminding her that she was never meant to leave in the first place. All she could see was that name, the only one carved on this side of the mausoleum.

Ryan Lopez.

“Ryan!”

The sound of her own name, being shouted right into her face, caused her entire body to lock up. She went completely still, senses straining and overwhelmed, and it took her a moment to realize what had happened. She’d been dreaming. The grass, the moon, the mausoleum. It had all been a dream. She was lying in Bruce’s bed, on her back with his soft sheets tangled around her ankles, and she was breathing too fast. Her entire body was pushing up against Bruce’s with every terror-filled breath, because Bruce was braced over her. Elbows sinking into the plush mattress on either side of her head, and she locked her gaze with his. The warm color of his eyes helped chase away the cold of the phantom mausoleum, and her fingers scratched against his back before flattening to push him down. She needed to feel him pressed against her, to hold her down and ground her in this moment, and she slowed her breathing to match his. To get them moving in sync. Hooked a leg around his waist and pulled every part of him against her, until she was fully compressed.

“Tell me you’ll keep me here.” Her voice was rough, she must have screamed in her sleep, and Bruce’s eyes were searching hers. Determined to find the reasoning behind her words without any context, and her legs wrapped around his as he flattened himself against her.

“Anyone that wants you, will have to go through me,” he promised her. It shouldn’t be comforting. She shouldn’t want him to stand between her and death, but she shook in relief and clawed her hands against his shoulders. Gripped the back of his hair and pulled him down.

“Don’t carve my name into stone,” she whispered against his chin. He pulled back enough to see her, for his warm breath to drift across her skin, and she’d been crying. The shifting air drifted across the wet tracks, leaving behind a lingering coldness. His eyes were analyzing, mind working through everything he knew about her, and he dropped to press his brow against hers. Pressed tight. His solid heat against her shaking softness.

“Ashes to ashes,” slipped across her lips. Ryan would never be buried. Her name wouldn’t be immortalized in stone. When she was done, she’d be ash. As she was meant to be.

“Bruce.” The hands had reached for her, pulled at her, begged her to come home to them. “Bruce.” She had wanted the darkness, still did sometimes, but she wanted this more. Wanted him more. “Bruce.”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Bruce said against her temple. He was blanketing her now, keeping her safe and protected from the world, and she slowly started to relax. Started to come back to herself. “You’re here, with me.”

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou@uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[wolfe-industries]

I'm sending your music ask back because I really liked it lol.

So, for Ryan, Rev and Toni, choose a general playlist and on the third song, tell me what scene would play for your oc if your fic was a show or movie. One song for each lol.

I should have known this would get turned back on me, but I do love music asks so I can't even pretend to not be happy. Okay, I picked the third song and only did one song each. That being said, I still managed to find a way to go a little overboard. (Also, I was very tempted to cheat with one of the songs but managed to control myself.) Thank you for the ask!!

Ryan Lopez & Bruce Wayne [otp: mutually assured destruction]

Icon For Hire – Hope Of Morning

[try as i might to keep it together / why is recovery taking forever / fool the whole world / just until i get better / i’m terrified i’ll be faking forever, faking forever]

Ryan standing in a sea of people, at some kind of high society function, forcing herself to smile and make polite conversation. With every quick glance her way, she knows that people are talking about her various scandals. Yelling at people, the threats of violence and a few cases of actual violence, the scars unhidden by the dress she’s wearing. Knowing that her first impression will never fade, that she’ll always be known as the Beast of Gotham.

[on and on, i wonder what went wrong inside my head / i don’t have to have the answers, but tonight i wish i did / all the pain i can’t explain away won’t fade / all the secrets silenced by the shame / don’t make me say it]

Back at Bruce’s lakehouse, stripped out of the dress that she thinks of as a cheap costume no matter what’s on the price tag, looking outside while hearing Bruce walk into the room behind her. Bruce seeing her absently touching the scars that should have ended her life, knowing without her having to say anything that she’s thinking of the peace that was taken from her and the shame she feels for wanting that peace back. Him standing behind her, putting his hands over hers to still her movements, and holding her in silence. Just allowing her to feel.

[when the hope of morning starts to fade in me / i don’t dare let darkness have its way with me / and the hope of morning makes me worth the fight / i will not be giving in tonight]

Ryan leaning back against Bruce, trusting him to hold her up and trusting him to know her. That she isn’t giving up. That she’s going to keep trying, keep fighting, for him and for herself.

Revina Revnic & Rick Flag [otp: need you closer]

Ella Mae Bowen – Holding Out For A Hero

[somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasies / somewhere just beyond my reach / there’s someone reaching back for me / racing on the thunder and rising with the heat]

Pre mission, a moment of peace in the night before leaving at dawn, with Rev and Rick in adjoining rooms. Both laying down in the darkness, unknowingly facing towards each other. Both worrying about the mission waiting for them, worried for each other and never for themselves. Rev thinking about how easy it would be to get up and cross to his room. Rick thinking about how, for once, he wouldn’t turn down any of Rev’s usual pre-mission offers.

[through the wind and the chill and the rain / and the storm and the raging flood / oh, his approach is like a fire in my blood]

Middle of the mission, Rick is still all that Rev can focus on. Constantly drawn to him, straining towards him, despite trying to stay on target. Then there’s that moment, when the mission is complete and everything just goes still, and her entire body lights up when their eyes meet.

[i’ll need a hero / and then we’ll dance ‘til the morning light / dreaming he’ll lead / held tight, tonight’s the night]

Post mission, another win after another close call, and this time Rick is the one who makes the first move. Who lets himself see Rev and reach for her, pull her close the way she’s dreamed about and then not let go like she’d been too afraid to hope for.

Toni Swan & Jasper Hale [otp: i feel everything for you]

Lauren Aquilina – Fools

[friends, i watched us as we changed / the feelings in my headspace rearranged / i want you more than i’ve wanted anyone / isn’t that dangerous?]

Toni is helping to plan her sister’s wedding, and she can see Bella’s happiness under the nervous energy. As the wedding gets closer, Toni’s focus keeps getting pulled to Jasper. To her best friend. Only, she’s not thinking of him like a best friend. Every time they’re together, all she can think about is how she wants to be closer. All she can think about is how she wants.

[the anticipation before the kiss / mirrored in my shaking lips / oh, god, i feel so unprepared / the two of us so out of place / my feelings written on my face / got what i want but now i’m scared]

After so many passed over chances, there’s the first kiss. Such a natural reaction to being close to Jasper, until the implications sink in. Toni’s eyes widening as she realizes that she just kissed her best friend, the person who has been there for her and supported her during the most difficult time of her life, and what if she just ruined them?

[what if we ruin it all, and we love like fools? / and all we have, we lose? / and i don’t want you to go but i want you so / so tell me what / tell me what we choose]

Before Toni can pull away, Jasper pulls her in closer. Holds her to him and whispers their shared fears in the quiet space between them. They might be risking their easy friendship, but they can gain so much more. After everything they’ve been through and everything they feel for each other, they can take this chance. This time, they can choose each other.

[wolfe-industries]

Ryan Lopez//Memento Mori

Read Here - FF AO3! 

Req by @raith-way​

Join the giveaway here! 

[wolfe-industries]

This GIF was made by the lovely @asirensrage, for my Ryan! The angst is beautiful and perfect for this pairing, so I had to write a scene to go with it. (Seriously, Siren, thank you so much!!)

Fandom: DCEU / Snyder Verse

Fic: Memento Mori

Scene: The Things We Don’t Say

Ryan walked through Bruce’s underground lair with her head held high, jaw clenched and chin raised, but inside she felt like she was falling apart. Her strides were steady, even, but she could feel her pulse beating in her throat. After everything that had happened, she ran. She’d been overwhelmed, terrified of the blood slipping across her hands, and she had looked up in that moment of terror to see Bats standing over her. She hadn’t needed the cowl removed to know what he thought of her, and she had ran. She ran, and he didn’t follow. Now here she was, days later, and she’d been surprised that she still had access. To the lakehouse and to the underground lair where Bruce truly lived. The fear she could feel now was acrid, burning in her lungs, and she stopped as Bruce came into view. Because it was Bruce. In slacks and a black shirt, but the cuffs were undone. As she looked straight ahead, a muscle jumped in Bruce’s jaw before he blanked his expression and leveled his eyes on her.

“You left,” was his quiet accusation. His lips pressed into a straight line, and she wondered if he hated how well she could read him. Because she knew that the movement, that straight line, meant he’d said something without meaning to. Either he hadn’t wanted to speak at all, or he had meant to say something else.

“I did,” she agreed quietly. Her eyes were burning now, tears of shame and fear and longing, and she had to look down for a moment to try to gather herself together. Just for a moment, then she was looking at him again. “I wasn’t, I didn’t, what you saw was-” She cut herself off with a low sound of frustration in her throat, and she could feel a sob building in her chest. Bruce was supposed to understand her, the way that she understood him. She shouldn’t have to explain herself to him.

“I know.” The words surprised her, caused her eyes to widen and for tears to streak down her cheeks, and she licked at her dry lips as she shifted on her feet. She wanted to run; away from him, or towards him?

“You know?” she asked instead. Bruce seemed to soften; his expression showed his exhaustion and his own hints of fear at the corners of his eyes, his hands were held open by his sides instead of clenched, and he looked so human. So touchable, if she would just walk closer.

“You were attacked, your instinct was to protect yourself. You didn’t want to kill him, and you didn’t. He’s alive.” Ryan winced at his words, flinched from the truth said so plainly, and her own hands curled into tight fists.

“If I had killed him? What then?” Bruce looked confused, he really must be exhausted if he was allowing her to see his confusion, and her nails bit into her palms as she forced herself to keep speaking. “If I had killed him, would you still let me come here?”

“If I killed him, would you still want me?”

She didn’t say what they were both thinking. Ryan didn’t just run when situations overwhelmed her. She ran from the words that she couldn’t say, from the rejection that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to bear. Then Bruce started to stalk towards her, eyes blazing with that hard set to his jaw, and she braced herself. Opened her fists to let her bloody palms brush by her thighs. Tipped her head back, leaving her torn throat exposed. Ready for whatever punishment Bruce deemed fit. (She knew he would never strike her, not outside of a training session, but words left scars more deeply than blades or bullets ever could.) She kept her eyes open as Bruce walked straight into her, not stopping, and then arms were locked around her in an iron grip. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek, through the soft material of his shirt and his warm skin, and the fast pace seemed to match her own racing heart.

“You will always be welcome here,” was whispered against the top of her head. He was holding her close, holding her tight, holding her together. Because they both knew he was really saying, “I will always want you.”

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[wolfe-industries]

📷 Ryan! And my girl Tyler lol

Thank you for the ask!! I’m glad you added Ryan since I did Rev’s earlier, and you know how much I love my Tyler. Thanks again!!

Ryan Lopez

Tyler Raith

Send me 📷 + an OC and I’ll share a picture (or three) from their pinterest board

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

[wolfe-industries]

🌹

Thank you so much for the ask!! I’m horrible at picking a single line, so here’s another little scene!!

Adrenaline was pushing ice through her system, pinprick sensations that sliced under her skin, and she was fully aware that she wasn’t alone in this alley. There was an unconscious man at her feet, but there were eyes on her as well. A presence at her back. She turned sharply on her heels, hips twisted and legs tensed, and a hand caught her thrown fist. Thickly gloved fingers engulfed the entirety of her hand as her heart started to beat a faster rhythm in her chest, and she slowly looked up at a mask that blended into the dark shadows of the darkened alley that she had stupidly wandered into. With her body straining for a fight and her hand slowly being crushed, she tried to look into the eyes of Gotham’s infamous vigilante and was denied by the thick lenses that hid his gaze from view. So, the rumors were true. There really was a guy dressed like a bat running around the streets at night, and they were now standing face-to-face. Hands locked. Bodies poised and ready to collide. With an unconscious body right behind her. Of all the things she had expected on her nighttime excursion into the city, this hadn’t even made it onto the list.

“Tell me, Bats. Where do we go from here?”

—Chapter Two, Memento Mori

for every "🌹" received in my inbox, i'll post one random sentence (or scene) of a random WIP i'm currently writing

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

[wolfe-industries]

Thank you for sending a kiss prompt request, lovely anon, for any of my DC pairings. I went to answer, and then tumblr ate the ask?? I can’t find it. Thankfully I typed the prompt in a document, so it’s not completely lost. Thank you for sending in an ask, and I hope you like the pairing that I chose. I’m sorry in advance for the angst. Thanks again!!

Fandom: DCEU / Snyder Verse

Fic: Memento Mori

Pairing: Ryan Lopez/Bruce Wayne

Kiss Prompt 39: …because time’s run out

Requested By: anon

Tagging: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

Washing Away Reality

“No, no, no, no.” The single word kept falling from her lips until it stopped making sense. Nothing about this made sense. Not the strangled repetition or the blood on her hands or that damn smile cutting through the darkness of the alley. “How did you let this happen?”

“Ry—” She didn’t give him a chance to finish speaking. Her hands, her bloodied balled up fists, came down on his chest again and again.

“How the fuck did you let this happen?” she repeated. Her fingers curled into the expensive material of his shirt, already soaked through and heavier than it should be, and she dropped like her strings had been cut. Fresh blood and Gotham’s perpetual drizzle were wet against her face as she pushed against his struggling heart, and the fingers that brushed through the hair at her temples were clumsy. Bruce was many things, but he was never clumsy. She kept her face pressed against his chest as she asked, “How did this happen? I thought all your suits were bulletproof.”

“I bought a new one for date night.” He was bleeding out, he was bleeding out, and he was still holding onto the same playful tone from dinner. The teasing and promising tone that had managed to get heat to rise into her face, but now the only warmth she felt came from the blood that was flowing out of him. Out of him and onto the ground, onto her.

“I need to, have to call, ambulance.” Words tripped out as she suddenly sat up, broken strings being pulled upright, and she patted frantically at her body. At the dress she had worn because she thought Bruce would like it, for the way it hugged her skin and had hidden pockets for various weaponry. Her phone had to be somewhere.

“There’s not enough time. You know that.” He sounded so calm, and she wanted to hit him again. Wanted to hit him until her body gave out right alongside his, because how could he sound so calm and reasonable right now? Her fingers tore at a pocket seam as frustration built in her throat, and fingers pulled weakly at her wrists and forearms.

“I hate you,” she forced out between clenched teeth. When Bruce laughed, blood ran under her knees.

“No, you don’t.” He was wrong, he was wrong, he was wrong. She didn’t know it was possible to hate someone this much, to hate him because she loved him, because he was going to leave her. He was going to leave her alone. “Ryan.”

She didn’t fight as hands pulled at her, pulled her down, and she collapsed against his chest. Fell against bullet holes and ruination, with a scream locked behind her teeth. It was too dark in the alley for her to see the warm color his eyes, because Bruce always had such warm eyes even when he was frigid with anger, but she could see the blood staining his teeth as her nose nudged against his jaw. His skin was soft from a fresh shave and the rain in the air. Fingers burrowed under her hair to grip the back of her neck, and the hold was so weak. She’d seen Bruce on the edge of death before. Seen him facing down that endless darkness and spit at it. She never thought that she’d see him giving up, giving in. He was going to leave her, alone. He was going into the darkness, and she was going to be left here. In this sharp and bright world that wouldn’t be softened by his presence or bearable by his side.

“Tell me it was real.” All the time they had spent together, the anger that had burned through her and the pleasure that left her mindless, had it been real? Was she still trapped in that hospital room, wasting away and becoming nothing? Had she imagined all of this? Imagined him?

“It was real,” was whispered against her chin. It was all he had the strength for. One last promise, the closest thing she’d ever get to a declaration of love, and every ounce of warmth was ripped from her as she felt Bruce take his last breath. Her lips pressed against his skin, jaw chin lips cheek, just to feel that lingering warmth before the rain could leech it away.

It was real.

Bruce was gone.

The last surviving piece of who Ryan had been died with him, washed away like blood down an alley drain.

[wolfe-industries]

Fandom: DCEU / Snyder Verse

Fic: Memento Mori

Pairing: Ryan Lopez/Bruce Wayne

Kiss Prompt 36: …to give up control

Requested By: @asirensrage

Tagging: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

Show Me Your Truth

“You’re upset.”

Ryan let her fist connect one last time, bare skin stretched over hardened bone against packed sand contained inside thick leather, and she kept her knuckles pushing against the bag as she turned her head to the side. Sweat had slicked her hair against the side of her face, dark chunks of hair were obscuring her vision, and she flicked her neck in one harsh motion to give her a perfect sightline. Bruce was right where she knew he’d be, sitting at his desk and surrounded by immaculate silver, and her jaw popped as she ground her teeth together.

Some nights, he looked more like Wayne. Expensive tailored material clinging to him without a single hair out of place. Those nights, she had the urge to kick his chair away from the scrolling screens and dig her fingers in. Put lines and wrinkles in those suits before feeling that thick hair locked between her fingers.

Some nights, she looked over to see Bats. Heavy dark armor, black paint against his skin, and short terse words. Her first fond memories of Gotham were of Gotham’s infamous Batman, and seeing her first friend sharing his space with her made something inside her feel liquid and warm. Those nights, she wanted to grip the darkness that he clothed himself in and lick those growled commands from behind his teeth.

Some nights, the person that looked back at her was Bruce. Shirt untucked, sleeves up to his elbows, tie gone with the top buttons undone to show the vulnerable dip of his throat. Hair starting to fall over his brow, whenever he didn’t push his fingers through it while working through some problem that she hadn’t even considered. Those nights, she just wanted to be close to him. Press close to offer him comfort and to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

Then there were nights, like tonight, where he somehow managed to encompass all three sides of himself. To be an infuriating irresistible dick. She’d been going at the punching bag for nearly an hour now, while he sat at his little control-command center, and she’d been picoting Bruce’s smug public paparazzi-are-here smirk for at least half that time. Sometimes the image would shift into someone else, usually someone on her board, and then Bruce would make some kind of noise and cause her to start seeing his stupid fucking smirk all over again. He’d shift in his chair or blow out a sigh, something so terribly human that usually made her feel weak at the knees for being able to witness him in his human skin but tonight had just made her want to tear something apart instead, and she had a headache from how hard she’d been clenching her jaw.

“What gave it away?” she forced herself to ask. Her teeth were still clenched, words being forced off her tongue and through her lips, and Bruce had the audacity to just stare at her. “If you want to know why, use your words.”

“You’re upset about the banquet.” He said it. He didn’t even have the decency to ask her so that she could try to explain herself. To explain the emotions that were now boiling inside of her.

“I am upset because you are an absolute dick,” she spat. She used her fist to push off against the punching bag, stretched out her bloodied knuckles, and felt tension building in her spine.

“Use your words, Miss Lopez,” Bruce drawled. It wasn’t the lazy way he talked after a long night on the streets or that sweet slowness as he was starting to wake up. No, it was that carefully cultivated accent he used in front of people that didn’t know a single true thing about him.

Words burned the back of her throat and died a quick death as she stormed across the underground lair, because it was a lair no matter what Bruce liked to claim otherwise, and he didn’t react at all as she stalked closer. His expression stayed impassive as she gripped the back of his chair and forced him around to face her, and her hands dropped down to his shoulders. (Tux shirt from the banquet, stiff thick white, and her fingers curled in.) His face wasn’t clean shaven, stubble looked rough against his jaw as she ducked down to let her clean sweat mix with the scent of his expensive cologne, and she planted her knee on the chair right between his spread thighs. Pressed close enough to him that he’d be able to feel the heat from her trying to expel her rage of the night.

“Miss Lopez’s time would be better spent—”

“Those were my words,” he interrupted. There it was. Just a quick flash; tension next to his eyes, hardened line to his jaw, thinned lips. They both knew that he’d basically said that she belonged in the slums, not in a boardroom or at some fancy pretentious banquet for who-the-fuck-cares. Before, she hadn’t cared what Wayne said about her. It was both expected and almost wanted, because it gave her an excuse to dig into him. Back when the only time she felt any kind of heat was when she wanted to rip into him to feel his beating heart in her hands. Even after, after, she had expected the cutting words. The world expected them.

“We had an agreement, Bruce. To ease into something different. So that Bruce Wayne can stop being a playboy, because let’s be honest, it’s not like you’re getting any younger,” she hissed. She wanted to scream at him. To use the hold she had on him to shake him, to move the solid strength of him, because she had been expecting something different tonight. Not kindness, not so soon, but something a little less than what had become the usual.

“The plan—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear about another plan!” She pushed up closer, palms flattened against his shoulders and knee pressed against the center of him, and he had to tip his head back to keep eye contact with her as she started to loom over him. “Everything is planned! Every single word and gesture is planned out to perfection! It’s maddening! It’s insane! It’s drives me absolutely fucking crazy that you can’t break character for two fucking seconds!”

“Ryan—”

“I get it, okay?” She interrupted him again, softened her tone, and lowered herself down. Shifted her leg so that she was straddling him properly, smoothed her hands down to feel the rhythm of his slow-moving chest, and rested her weight against his thighs to put them on an even eye-level. “One part of your life is practically all improvisation, no matter how much you plan. You can always control what that side of yourself does, the one who smiles for the cameras and talks shit for the elites, but I hate that you can’t give up control for one moment. Just a second to—”

Hands pulled at her faster than she could process, one locked around her bicep just above her elbow and the other pressed flat low against her back, and whatever words she was about to say were taken from her. Pried apart with teeth and softened with his tongue, until all the rage that had been building inside her liquidized and had her melting against him. She curled into him, the heat of anger shifting and growing, and she chased after his lips as he pulled away. Claimed another kiss before controlling herself, and her eyes locked on his face. The warmth in his eyes. The curl of his wet darkened lips. The rough grain of his stubble that she wanted to feel against her skin.

“Out of control enough for you?” His voice had dropped, deeper and without that pretentious drawl, and he sounded like Bruce.

“You’re learning,” she told him and pulled him back in. Her Bruce.

[wolfe-industries]

💿 and Ryan...

Ryan!! Ryan’s playlist is so dark and angsty. I need to get my girl to cheer up. Thank you for the ask!!

Wreak Havoc by Skylar Grey

they call me a menace / they say that i’m cursed / but somethin' about me is makin' 'em jealous / so listen and learn

Lovely by Billie Eilish & Khalid

heart made of glass, my mind of stone / tear me to pieces, skin to bone / hello, welcome home

Runnin’ by Adam Lambert

whoa, i’m coming alive / whoa, i’ll wake up now and live / whoa, i’m coming alive / a life that's always been a dream / i’ll wake up now and live

Everybody Knows by Sigrid

everybody knows the fight was fixed / the poor stay poor, the rich get rich / that’s how it goes / everybody knows

Everything Black by Unlike Pluto

in a nocturnal state of mind / children of the night / but it's the only way of life / this black hole's pulling me inside / of this black heart, the black soul / underneath this black, black sky

[wolfe-industries]

Fandom: DCEU / Post Justice League

Crossover: Memento Vivere

Main Pairing: Ryan Lopez (OFC)/Bruce Wayne

Story Summary: Ryan Lopez should be six feet under, or at least be reduced to ashes along with her former life. Instead she was trapped in the corporate world of Gotham, with nothing but cryptic messages from a grandfather she never knew and a soldier who acted like her butler. Not to mention that there was something very wrong with that Bruce Wayne guy.

Chapter Summary: Ryan Lopez meets Bruce Wayne, and the meeting leaves them both with more questions than answers.

Word Count: 8,400

Chapter One: Going Through The Motions

Date: 120 Days Since The Massacre

Date: 118 Days Since The Resurrection

Perspective: Ryan Lopez

When Kit first came for her, she had still been in the hospital. How much time had passed since that moment? Had it been hours or days? Between Kit walking into her quiet hospital room and escorting her onto an empty plane? Doctor Barrett hadn’t wanted her to leave, had tried to argue that she wasn’t ready to be released yet, but it was clear that she was more than physically ready. She’d been standing on her feet when Kit walked into the room and introduced himself, was standing on her own power, with no gaping wounds. Completely and totally healthy. Not that she had made that argument. Her and the good doctor both knew that she was physically capable of leaving the hospital; her body had healed and scarred and became whole once again long before anyone showed up looking for her. Kit had made that argument, that she was physically fit. She remembered seeing him smile, distorted in the window of her hospital room. She thought he had nice teeth. Doctor Barrett had said she wasn’t mentally prepared to leave, after everything she had suffered. Suffered. He had said it quietly, like a secret. Like everyone in Banshee City didn’t know exactly how she had suffered. The whisper was for his own conscience, the absolute bastard.

Keep Reading: FanFiction • ArchiveOfOurOwn

Tagging: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother

[wolfe-industries]

oc lore meme [01/10] ⚡️ tragic backstory ryan lopez in momento mori

Luckiest Girl In Gotham

What’s It Like Being Ryan Lopez?

Anger should burn, but I can only feel the cold. The rage is never ending and sleep no longer visits. I want to grab the world and strangle it between my hands, feel the life fade from the dirt and the sky. I want there to be nothingness. I want the nothingness to drown inside me.

Kingswood Razing - Sole Survivor

The fires came later. First were the bullets that tore through flesh and blood and muscle and homes. I started dying before the first spark. I died the moment my mother fell to the ground. I died with my sister’s crayons melting into my skin. They took me from my grave.

Saint Mercy’s Massacre - Sole Survivor

The body is a miraculous thing. The fear of a name can turn brave men into cowards, but the dead have nothing to fear. I let my body be destroyed and used my last breath to right the injustices. I died with a smile. I died with joy in my heart. They ripped me away from what I was owed.

Wolfe Family - Sole Survivor

The condolences for the unknown mean nothing. I cannot mourn for what I do not know. I refuse to accept anything I have not earned. I am not your heiress. I am not your boss. I am not your next tragic tale to tear apart. They forced me into the light.

I long for the death that has been stolen from me. I will earn my peace.

Almighty Meme Creator: @richitozier

Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother

[wolfe-industries]

Fandom: DCEU / Post Justice League

Author: @raith-way

Crossover: Memento Vivere

OCs: Ryan Lopez, Kit Kelley, [TBA]

Pairings: Ryan Lopez/Bruce Wayne, [TBA]

Chapters: 1/? [Posted]

Links: FanFiction • ArchiveOfOurOwn

Summary: Ryan Lopez should be six feet under, or at least be reduced to ashes along with her former life. Instead she was trapped in the corporate world of Gotham, with nothing but cryptic messages from a grandfather she never knew and a soldier who acted like her butler. Not to mention that there was something very wrong with that Bruce Wayne guy.

Masterlist

Chapter One: Going Through The Motions

ryan lopez meets bruce wayne, and the meeting leaves them with more questions than answers.

count: 8400

read @ fanfiction • archiveofourown