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#battinson fanfiction
dreamtinblackandwhite · 2 months
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give & take
summary: bruce wayne x female!reader learning what their partner likes during sex
word count: 832
warnings: NSFW, SMUT, mentions of fingering, oral (both receiving), p in v sex, overstimulated, praise kink, degradation kink, face fucking, i think that's it?
an: let me know what you think of this one! it's not much but i wanted to get it out of my brain :)
bruce is such a giver.
he was so touch deprived when you first starting seeing each other that he just wants to shower you in appreciation for giving this back to him.
every night before he heads out to patrol, he’d burry his face between your thighs and greedily fingerfucks you until you’re seeing stars
every time the two of you are required to go to a public event, he’d make sure to find a secluded room where he would get on his knees for you after seeing you in that dress
if your response after he asks how your day was is anything less than ‘great, love, yours?’ he’d tug you off towards his bed and spend hours kissing every single inch of your body
praising you because he knows how much you love it:
‘such a good girl’, ‘you are so gorgeous squeezing around my fingers’, ‘you are doing so good, darling’, ‘you can cum again, I know you can.’, ‘be a good girl and moan my name while I tease this perfect clit, beautiful.’
this man would worship the ground you walk on and is utterly obsessed with every part of you
there were signs of him wanting more though. the way his eyes would widen and he'd blush so cutely after you told him it was okay to be rough with you. you'd tell him every night how you want to shower him with the same affection he gives you. but he’d ignore you to burry his face into your dripping cunt again whimpering and whining about how much he loves you.
you could see him fall into the blissful high of your warm folds wrapping around his cock so perfectly and he slowly would lose his composure. fucking you as if he didn't know you, plowing into you like his access to oxygen depended on it. his rough strokes against your sensitive core seemed to speak how much he loved using you - you just needed to drag that out of him.
you waited in the batcave for him on a stormy night that you couldn’t sleep. ‘what are you doing awake, darling?’ He’d ask as he slipped his cowl off with a concerned tone to his voice. you didn't need to say anything. just walk up to him and slowly peel layer by layer of his suit off, dragging your finger tips across each muscle, bruise, fresh cut, or healed scar as you exposed his skin.
‘you could have waited in bed if you wanted me,’ reaching for you, wanting to see more of your skin than what you were offering. you’d stop his hands before they could touch you, using them as anchorage as you floated to the floor on your knees. never breaking eye contact.
he’d already be hard, even innocent touches from you were enough to spark that reaction. but there was something about seeing how well you were swallowing him down, drooling and gagging around him with no care in the world...
there was no denying that bruce craved control. that’s part of the reason he goes out, he wants to control the crime of Gotham.
but this was different. you were strong, independent, you didn’t need bruce, you had all the control in your own life. but here you were, on your knees for him. His. His beautiful and perfect equal.
you saw the shift in his eyes when he accepted how much he loved this. his fingers tangling in your hair as a low groan rumbled from his chest. ‘good fucking girl,’ his eye bored into yours, drinking up the sight of you degrading yourself for him as tears formed in the corner of your eyes. ‘you’re prettiest when you’re messy like this for me.' he's never respect you more - you had so much power but you set it aside for him. this was his bliss.
and that’s when you both found the perfect blend of kinks. he felt the whimper he fucked into your throat and saw the familiar glint in your eye as you desperately rolled your hips forward. ‘you like this, don’t you? love being my secret little cocksucker, fully knowing you’ll turn around tomorrow and command respect.’ you’d nod your head, still working your mouth feverishly around his cock.
‘i love it too, baby,’ a moan would escape him that belonged in a porno as he twitched in your throat, fucking his hips into your face. his head would fall backwards at the disgustingly lewd sounds coming from your perfect lips only making his grip on your head tighten and his pace rougher. ‘take my cock like a good slut. y’ve such a good throat for me.’
after you swallowed his sticky load, he’d all but fall to his knees in front of you and hug you close, whispering little thank yous as he kissed your hair. ‘you were right,’ he’d finally say before kissing you hungrily and starting his favorite task of forcing you to cum until you’re overstimulated.
382 notes · View notes
stargirlfics · 1 year
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BRUCE WAYNE BLURBS
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18+ WARNING! a mix of smut, fluff and comfort
read from my battinson fanfics here
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Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne
Sugar Daddy!Bruce taking care of you and catching feelings
Shy!Battinson dealing with his feelings for you
Bruce gets jealous
Asking him to stay because you can’t sleep
Thoughts about his shoulders
Bruce losing control when he finally gets to fuck you
Bruce fucking you desperately
Bruce coming home to find you naked and waiting for him
Needy making out and smut
Drifter!Bruce + voyeurism
Meeting Drifter!Bruce for the first time
Drifter Voyeur!Bruce catching you touching yourself
You and Bruce w the “having to cuddle to stay warm” trope
Bruce slipping into his Batman voice in bed
1K notes · View notes
anitalenia · 9 months
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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊���� 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 ₊˚⊹♡
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⋆˙⟡♡ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦. ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛… 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡. 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒. ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
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╰✦・゚✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹ the beginning of how it started. a part detailing how Batman initially treated you and handled the relationship.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹ how Batman fell in love with you and all the things that happened leading up to it. all the signs and actions that made him love you.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹ how Batman handled the reality of being in love with you and all the things he did to try and hide from it. better yet, his confession.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹ yours and Bruce’s relationship and how he was with you. some relationship headcanons for fun.
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⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ battinson x fem!reader
⋆˙⟡♡ CONTENT INCLUDES ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ mentions of sex, mentions of fighting and threatening, rough kissing, mentions of sad!Bruce / undertones of depression, mentions of alcohol & insomnia, bad words, sweet kisses, tears, hair pulling, love confessions, not really a whole lot of sexiness just headcanons mostly
⋆˙⟡♡ WARNINGS ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ mature content, emotionally tortured Bruce Wayne, maybe not my best story telling :(, mentions of blood and fighting cuz this is Batman, alcoholism
⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ thanks to @diavolosbaby for requesting this!! Hope you enjoy and it lives up to your standards 🩷
OTHER LINKS ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
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𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓷 ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ He told you what this was before he even started it. Told you this was strictly business, no feelings involved; you knew who he was during a chance encounter and you were the only one he could really come to after that. It was simple, straight forward; you needed his dick and he needed your pussy.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce came to you a lot, which was a little odd compared to how you perceived him to be. You thought he was a very busy man, always fighting crime or hiding away in his mansion, always too busy to bother with someone as unimportant as you. But no, you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was there at least three times a week, standing by your window in that black suit of his with his cape blowing with the wind, waiting for you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always quiet, head filled with whatever torturous pain lingered in the shadows of his mind, brimming with the secrets he never told you and you never asked for. He never spoke, unless it was a command spoken in a gentle gruffness. He never smiled, tried not to grunt or make too much noise, but some nights he couldn’t contain himself and the sounds just escaped him. Those were the nights he was particularly frustrated.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never let you take off his mask at first, he’d leave it on and you were left grasping at leather and air. He didn’t like affection, having you touch his scars and his body, it was too vulnerable, too intimate, for his liking. So, naturally, he didn’t stay to cuddle afterwards. The business was over, your job was done, he’d slip out the window as you’d bask in the aftershocks.
⋆˙⟡♡ His heart was cold but his body was warm, always warm. He was like a furnace when he’d be flat against you, fucking into you with his head in your neck and his hands gripping your jaw, your waist, your thighs. You’d always get so hot, craving his warmth like a bug to a bonfire.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never bothered to ask you anything about yourself, but you had a suspicion he had to have done some research on you during those long lonely days in the darkness of his home. He was too cautious not to, too curious. And he did. He found out everything about you but didn’t share a single detail about himself. He was Bruce Wayne, rich son whose parents died by day, and then Batman, vengeance personified by night. That’s all you needed to know.
⋆˙⟡♡ Batman only came to you in the middle of the night, sometimes bloody and beaten, your fingers running over tender bruises that would make him grimace. A part of him liked the pain, figured he deserved it. Sometimes you worried for him on the nights he was particularly beaten up, but he didn’t give you time to ask questions before he was shoving you against your dresser and pressing himself against you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t like being in the light, being too seen. He liked it with all the lights off, your room glowing with the dim light of the moon and the streetlights, your face pressed into his neck or shoved into a pillow so you couldn’t look at him.
⋆˙⟡♡ In the beginning, he liked it when you just submitted to him; he mostly cared about his own pleasure at first as he told you what this was, why he was doing this. That didn’t stop him from making sure you came at least once though. He couldn’t help it, didn’t want you to feel completely used.
⋆˙⟡♡ You noticed he always had this way about him when he touched you, almost like he yearned to hold you closer but knew he shouldn’t. His hands were rough, long fingers and hot palms, lingering on your skin before he’d move them away, never touching one place too long before he’d move on. It was almost a tease.
⋆˙⟡♡ He spied on you, a lot actually, would watch you from his spot on a roof top, stare at you through your big office window. He didn’t know why, just bored and curious, he always told himself. He’d see you stress yourself out, fill out paper after paper while your boss did nothing but throw more at you. You took it anyway and Bruce was confused by why. But he never asked, didn’t want to make a connection with you and risk losing you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He remembered sneaking into your house, waiting for you, but you were late coming home from work and he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. He felt wrong about it, but he looked through your photos and your notebooks, saw a glimpse into your real life outside of him and work and he quickly put everything back the way it was and left. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to see you as anything different than what he already did.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would lie to Alfred about where he was going at night, why he would be so late coming home. But Alfred knew he was lying, he wasn’t sure about what exactly, but Alfred knew Bruce would come to him in time.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce tried hard to keep his and yours personal lives outside of your mutual situation, he really did. He didn’t want to know you, hear you talk about your problems and your dreams and fears and learn what made you you, from your own words. He was alone and knew he was meant to be alone, planned on being alone forever. Being with him would only put you in danger, a bigger target on his back he didn’t need. It was for your own protection, for the sake of both your lives and both your hearts.
⋆˙⟡♡ He vowed to himself to keep it that way, strictly professional, a hobby almost. He really didn’t plan to fall in love, he really really didn’t…
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ Your living room was dark when you came home from work, later than usual because of your infuriating boss; he was lazy, relied on his employees to do his work while he sat in his office and ate his donuts. You hated him, loathed him, absolutely couldn’t stand him, but you understood he was just another obstacle, a milestone you needed to get through before you reached where you needed to be. So, you didn’t make a fuss, you didn’t complain, didn’t speak up. You did what you were supposed to as you were supposed to do it, just another hamster circling the wheel of business over and over until you finally got the balls to break the cycle.
Unfortunately, your ambition was almost too much for you sometimes, tonight was evidence enough.
You set your keys in the ceramic bowl by the door with a tired sigh, soft rain pattering on your windows, furniture lit up with a dim orange glow from the street lamps outside. All twisting shadows and rain drops. Your nose tickled with the scent of vanilla bean and raspberry, remembering the candle you had forgotten to blow out before you left. Oops.
Your hair was damp, gray suit littered in dark spots from the rain outside. Your limbs were sore and heavy, eyes burning and fluttering for a semblance of rest. Your heels were sore from the heels you’ve been prancing around in all day, your whole body exhausted in general. This was normal for you though, you always came home lagged and tired. You regretted being such a hard worker, but knew it would ultimately pay off in the future.
You walked to your bedroom, your heels clacking on the floor unevenly, dragging on the wooden boards as you navigated your way through the darkness. You held your purse loosely in your left hand, a shiver crawling up your spine as an unexpected gust of coolness swept up your legs and down your neck.
Your foot stuttered, lingering by the doorway in your bedroom as the rain seemed louder, less dull, wind whistling your black bed sheets. You furrowed your eyebrows at that, knowing you left your window closed before you left. Your eyes strained to see anything in the darkness as panic blared in your chest like a fire alarm, trying to make out any figure in the shadows of your room. You slowly crept forward, preparing for the worst, your exhaustion melting into hot fear that made your bones go stiff.
You swallowed, eyes immediately going to the open window to see the empty street below, the sound of a car alarm in the distance overpowering the rain that seemed to just pound harder. Your window was wide open, sheer purple curtains flapping from the breeze like a set of violet wings. Your eyes narrowed at that, hearing nothing but buzzing silence ringing in your ears. Then, it just hit you.
You couldn’t describe it exactly, but you felt a sensation of calmness wash over you as you let out a hefty breath, fear gradually melting away as your body relaxed and hands unclenched. It was like your body knew it wasn’t in any real danger, that there was nothing lurking in the shadows besides what was supposed to be. This was all too familiar to you; a setting you’ve come home to many times before. The open window, the darkness, the buzzing calm.
You felt excitement spark through you in recognition as you felt your neck tingle, a barely there whisper of a breath wash over your neck and tickle your hair.
You felt a smile quirk on your lips, turning around slowly, sucking in a sharp breath when you were met with the large bulking figure of the man in black standing just an inch away from you, a shadow hiding in shadow as he stared down at you with those black soulless eyes. He was big, a thing you liked about him, dirt encrusted on his suit and so out of place in the cozy warmth of your home. He was big and bulky, comically large for your small bedroom.
You looked back up at him, your purse dropping to the floor as instinctual arousal flooded your belly at just the mere sight of him. You couldn’t help it, your body knew what he was capable of and yearned for it. Your throat became dry, you swallowed once more as his eyes, those dark blue gems of his, looked over your face with a certain pained look in them, calculating and tortured, covered in black face paint that hid the beauty of his raw skin.
His pink lips were set in a firm frown, a faint scratch on his chin, breaths slow and even, calm. That damned mask of his covered his face, the fluffiness of his brown hair you seldom ever felt run through your finger tips. He always wore this expression, always so serious and somber like he was going through a dreadful ordeal every second he continued to live. You were always curious as to why, but knew he’d never answer, nor appreciate your nosiness.
You let your thoughts drift off, looking back up at him with a false confidence.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight…” You mumbled quietly, losing any conviction in your voice as he took a small step forward, closer to you, his heavy boot thudding on your floor. You took a small step back, crumbling under him way too easily, as always. He always loved to completely invade your space, but never let you do the same to him.
You looked up at him, he looked down at you, breaths mingling together as a dark look washed over his oceanic eyes, his strong jaw clenching as he ran his eyes over your face like this was the first time he’d ever seen you. You felt your thighs tighten at the look in them, at the way he looked at you.
You were being honest though, you didn’t expect him tonight. You had seen him two nights ago, expecting not to see him for another few weeks at least.
“Shhh…” He shushed you gently, voice gravelly but gentle, tired but awake, undertones of desire.
He leaned down towards you and you found yourself holding your own arms back from wrapping around him and taking him already, just as he always took you. His gloved hands reached for the edge of the dresser behind you, trapping you between his strong arms and chest, completely invading your senses as your eyes looked into his, almost begging. His cape flowed down his shoulders and shrouded around you both until all you could see was black, the heady smell of smoke and rain tickling your nose, captivating.
He pressed himself against you, a brick wall, the mahogany’s edge digging into your lower back as your breath stuttered. You found yourself looking at his lips, his nose, his eyes, his closeness overwhelming you as you couldn’t figure out where to look, your skin feeling hot and stuffy, the confidence you had previously now a pile on the floor as your stomach twisted.
You could see the rain on his black suit, dripping down all his gear and heavy armor he wore and down to his waist, some falling to the floor in soft drips. You licked your lips, minding the mess, feeling lightheaded and fluttery as you looked back up at him with sparkling eyes.
He cocked his head at you, dark eyes running over your lips before looking back into your own, “Take your hair down.”
He always used such a gentle, tired voice, like he didn’t want to scare you and he could never find enough sleep, but the demand was obvious in his tone, eyes dark and predatory as they stared down at you intently. He didn’t need anymore command, knowing you’d do as he said just like you always did.
You didn’t dare disobey, sensing his need sizzling in the air just as strong as your shared want. You managed eye contact as you brought a hand up to the back of your head, taking out the black hair clip holding your hair together, the rain pattering on your roof almost too loud in your ears. He stared as your hair fell down your shoulders, cascading down your back in silky waves and framing your face. You swallowed, feeling the need to clear your throat as you put a hand through your hair and brushed it over your shoulder.
You saw his eyes run over your hair, the way it fell around your cheeks, his jaw clenching once more. He brought a hand up, big and heavy, running your locks through his fingers, imagining the softness of it as the sweet smell of apricot and citrus filled his nose, the signature flavor of your favorite shampoo.
You sighed at the pleasurable sensation on your scalp, head titling back as your eyes drooped, your hair clip falling to the ground noisily as you brought your hands up and grabbed his forearms. You might’ve been a little dramatic at just a few touches, but you were so needy, needy for this dangerous man you knew absolutely nothing about besides the obvious. He was a stranger in a suit, a stranger to you, but he somehow knew how to touch you better than any man you’ve ever been with.
He took note of your reaction, his own body twitching to touch you as he noticed the look in your eyes. He felt an intense need spark through him, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. He remained calm looking, but his eyes gave it all away.
Your head was yanked back, a pleasurable gasp leaving your lips as you squeezed his arms, looking up at him with your lips parted and breaths heavy. Your head stung, hair being pulled on in just the right way that had a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs, your body buzzing alive with feeling.
Bruce looked down at you, pressing the broadness of himself against you even harder, your breasts smushed against his suit, completely at his mercy. He looked down at you with an unraveled look in his eyes as he tilted your head up towards him.
He kissed you then, rough and hot, groaning into your mouth as his tongue played with yours, teeth clashing and breaths hot against each other. You couldn’t help but moan against him as he finally granted you what you’ve been wanting for so long now, scalp burning from his hold on your hair as your hands flew up and gripped at the leather of his mask, arms wrapped around his neck.
He was forceful and rough, his other hand crawling around your waist and lifting you off the ground with such ease it almost caught you off guard. You gasped into his mouth, his hand tightening on the hold in your hair as you grimaced at the pain.
You didn’t break the kiss, stuck on him as your heels fell off your feet and hit the floor. In two big strides you were suddenly lied flat on your bouncy mattress with Batman himself between your thighs, still holding your waist and head against him as he kissed you fervently.
Your skirt slid down around your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, pressing him harder into you as all you wanted was him, him everywhere and him all over you. You moaned against him, helpless and desperate, as the ridges in his suit dug into your stomach, his lips movingly hotly against yours as he grunted against you. His cape flowed around you, thick and smooth, trapping you underneath until all you could see was blackness, unable to discern the space between his body and yours.
You knew this was going to be quick; he was too rough, too impatient and needy. It must’ve been a bad night for him, but you didn’t pry no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much the questions bubbled in your throat and ached in your chest you knew you were in no place to ask. A part of you liked it that way, liked that this was strictly this. You liked that you didn’t have to answer to him, that you weren’t bound to him and he wasn’t to you. It was just simple, secrecy for a night of shameless lust-filled sex in return.
You both got what you wanted and that was enough. You appreciated that he didn’t go beyond that just as you didn’t. Outside of this room he was Batman, a dangerous vigilante some trusted and some hated, he was Bruce Wayne, an orphan child with more money and pain than he needed. But in the shadow of your bedroom, under the covers with you, there was no identity, no obligation, just two strangers seeking each other out in search of the one thing they both wanted, blessed with none of the other drama that followed a relationship.
With Bruce on top of you in this very moment, his hands gripping your body for no reason other than pleasure, you knew he would be gone before the night was over, and you’d be alone in your bed with bite marks and handprints on your skin to serve as a reminder of the man who gave them to you. You knew he would silently leave, slip away when he thought you were sleeping, you knew he wouldn’t talk or tell you any of his problems. He’d give you what you wanted and then slip into the shadows… you had to admit, It was the most perfect arrangement.
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╰✦・゚✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Batman didn’t plan on ever falling in love with you, but when he did, it had happened after a couple of months of doing what he did with you. But before he did, things had been going so well. You never intervened in his life and he never intervened in yours. Just as he expected, just as he preferred. It had been perfect, but somewhere along the way he had gotten too involved, started to trust you without even realizing it.
⋆˙⟡♡ At first, it started with him staying in your bed longer than he used to. You didn’t argue, comfortable with the heat his body gave you in the coldness of the night. He found himself dozing off after you would, your fluffy blanket soft on his skin and the mattress like a cloud for his broken body. He’d always be gone before you woke up though. You didn’t want to say anything about his little sleepovers, scared you’ll frighten him and he’ll stop. So you let him do as he pleased, enjoying his company albeit his silence.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never cuddled with you though, ever (don’t worry, he lets that slip too). Always stiff like a board on his side of the bed, expression crumbled with pain and peace. Sometimes he’d flinch, nightmares you never questioned him about but always noticed. Still, he’d wake up after about an hour, slip out your window, but not before giving you one last look, seeing how the moon shined down on your soft skin…
⋆˙⟡♡ Then, it was following you home after work, making sure you got home safe on those dark nights where it seemed like every shadow was following you. He’d be on the rooftops, claiming he was just curious and bored, cape flapping in the wind, when in reality he just needed to make sure you got home safely.
⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t know, but he was watching you much more than you’d ever suspect. He watched your home on the nights Gotham was quiet, his body knowing you were so close but oh so far. He thought about you when he wasn’t thinking about you, thought about the routine he had found in you, the unfamiliar closeness, the comfort he had found between your body and your bed sheets.
⋆˙⟡♡ He started kissing you more, flinching less when your fingers would graze his back. He let you look at him, look deep into his eyes when he was inside you, have your hands touching his face and his back without the security of his suit to hide him. You loved when he did that, feeling him under your hands, skin to skin as it should be.
⋆˙⟡♡ He let you see his scars in the light, didn’t care when he took off his suit and your bathroom light was on, shining down on his body and the sculpted muscle of it. He had learned you wouldn’t judge him, but he was still hesitant, suffering inside when he looked down at the floor as you gazed at him in awe… you thought he was so beautiful.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would watch you when you worked, watch as your boss would storm in and demand more from you. Bruce didn’t like that, would clench his fist and grind his teeth when you’d get scolded like a child, told to work harder when all you did was work. He’d have to control himself when your boss would walk past him on his way home every night.
⋆˙⟡♡ He started conversing with you more, holding you against his chest when you two were done. He’d ask you profound questions as you two stared up at the ceiling, you’d tell him your answer. He didn’t talk a lot, just liked to listen. It would be intimate, almost romantic. He’d listen to what you’d have to say and he’d learn, learn more about who you were, where you came from, and he’d find himself not wanting to leave, a dull ache in his chest every time you’d fall asleep and he’d have to slip out your fire escape.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never admitted it to himself, but he started to look forward to seeing you, found comfort in your small bedroom and the absence of life’s problems that came with it. He started to enjoy the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry from those candles you always forgot to blow out before work. He started to pick up on your little quirks.
⋆˙⟡♡ While gradually falling in love with you, Bruce would deny, deny, deny. He acknowledged that he was starting to feel things he didn’t want to, and he’d be incredibly disturbed and moody, more than usual. Alfred would even be a little peeved with him.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would find himself asking you how work was. He would be concerned about the bags under your eyes and the wrinkles in your clothes, not outright concerned but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He wanted to hear your voice.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would be very hesitant around you, scared he was doing too much when he’d touch you now. It wasn’t like before, when he would just grab and control. Now he was really touching you, trying to feel you, every dip and curve of your skin under his fingertips.
⋆˙⟡♡ He had gotten way too comfortable with you now, even he knew that. He relied on you and the comfort you gave, a feeling he’d been without for so long. He was like a cold soul lost in the woods, searching for something, anything, hollow, a warm body to bring him back. He found that with you, and he didn’t even realize it until he started to feel pain when he wasn’t around you, a pain in his chest like a knife was stabbing into his heart. He missed you but he didn’t want to…
⋆˙⟡♡ He stared at your face a lot, too intensely for your liking, thoughts behind those dark eyes of his he’d never tell you about if you confronted him about it. He just liked to look at you, watch you giggle and smile. He’d do it without realizing how intimidated it made you feel, how you’d have to blush and look away, pretend you didn’t notice. He just liked to look at you, soak in your expressions before he’d leave again.
⋆˙⟡♡ The signs were all there when you thought about it. The lingering touches, the admiring stares, the countless nights he’d watch over you. He felt like a creep, following you around so much, but he couldn’t help it. You were a pleasant distraction and he was a fool, easily succumbing to those feelings he had for you without even knowing it. They had been growing inside of him like a blooming vine… they started out small but grew into so much more, and he ignored it, until he just couldn’t take it anymore…
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ It was a quiet night in September, it had been raining for days and the coolness of autumn had just started to blow into the city. The trees danced with orange and red leaves, strewn all over the road and sidewalks, getting stuck under peoples rain boots and car tires. Your window was cracked, letting a cool breeze into your room that made you shiver, the savory smell of someone’s cooking wafting into your noses from the apartments across the way. You looked at your tv, black screen shut off but reflecting the blurred forms of your mingled bodies on your bed, arm outstretched on Bruce’s stomach, head lying on his chest. You could hear his heart, slow and calm just as he always was, pumping in your ear and lulling you to sleep.
You wanted to stay awake though, listening to the sounds of cars driving in rain puddles and horns honking, the occasional laughter of a passerby. A candle was lit on your dresser across the room, with the faint scent of vanilla bean and raspberry in the air just as Bruce liked. Your legs were a little sore, thighs tender from where Bruce had gripped them so hard, lips puffy from where Bruce had kissed them so much. You felt satisfied, pleasant even, comforted by his presence, the knowledge of his identity absent in your mind as you didn’t register him as a millionaire, or as a crime fighting vigilante, you never really did.
He was neither of those things to you. He was… he was Bruce, just Bruce, your Bruce. Not Bruce Wayne or Batman, and that was enough for you. You took him as he is not as he was, never questioned him about his parents or how Batman was even created. He appreciated that, didn’t like answering questions about himself he wasn’t comfortable with. He was comfortable with silence, but he didn’t mind hearing you.
He was awake too, didn’t want to fall asleep before you, something in his mind telling him he should leave already, not sink into the mattress any further and let himself relish in your warmth. He had responsibilities, duties, people he needed to save and crime he needed to stop. It was Gotham, something was always wrong and someone always needed help. But he couldn’t think about any of that stuff around you, his thoughts always either empty or crowded with your smile.
His suit was a mess on the floor, scrambled just like his mind, bat mask clear as day in his vision, lit up in a red glimmer from the light outside. It stared at him with its blank eyes, watching, the buzzing of a neon light loud in his ears. It’s like it was mocking him, patronizing him. He frowned at it, turning his head slightly away from it, like it was a reminder of what his true purpose was, where he should really be this late other than here in your arms. He knew he should go, felt his arm twitch like he was about to get up and unwind from you.
“Don’t you have somewhere you should be? Or are you gonna stay?” You mumbled sleepily, voice so quiet and sweet he almost didn’t hear it.
His eyes drifted to you, rubbing his fingertips on your rib cage and savoring the feeling of your smooth skin underneath him, against him. You were so unblemished, unlike him. A few scratches and scars here and there that held stories and memories, none like his. His were ridged and pale, covered his skin, they held memories but none of them good. Memories that served as reminders of why this was so wrong, of who he really was and who he needed to get back to once he left these four walls.
He thought about it for a minute, frowning at the ceiling fan.
Did he have somewhere to be? Yes, yes he did. He always had somewhere to be, that was the problem. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, he could be somewhere else, but he was here instead. He was here with you, here with you. He had somewhere to be, could be anywhere else, but he was here. Everyone always expected him to be where they were, expected him to save everyone. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t save everyone and he couldn’t be everywhere they wanted him to be. He was with you but he shouldn’t be. Guilt settled in his gut as he swallowed, hands itching like it was wrong to touch you.
His eyes, dark and somber like storm clouds, especially just as captivating, looked over your frazzled hair like he could see your face, knowing how exhausted you must’ve been from work and sex, how it was so late already and how you’d have to leave so early. Your breathing was slow and even, warm breath brushing over his chest from your parted pink lips, all cues of how you’ve already fallen asleep. He thought about your question, yes, yes he had somewhere he needed to be, he always did.
He didn’t bother speaking, just turned his head back and looked at the ceiling as his arm held you just a little tighter against him, hearing the splash of a car racing through water from somewhere outside.
He’ll stay for a little while.
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╰✦・゚✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ When he realized he was in love with you he left, he left for a long time. He refused to let those feelings blossom into anything more, grow into something more… dangerous. Love was dangerous, he was dangerous. He isolated himself from you, in a worse mood than usual. Alfred had picked up on it, knowing there was more going on than Bruce wanted to say. You couldn’t help the disappointment as the days turned into weeks, weeks of hope being crushed on with every night he wasn’t there.
⋆˙⟡♡ He told himself it was for the best, heartbreak was something you could heal from, death was something you’d never come back from. With his life, you would die. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t. He couldn’t subject you to that same fate his parents had.
⋆˙⟡♡ Still, he couldn’t stop himself from watching you when you’d walk home, still sitting outside your job, your home, watching you from a distance to make sure you’d be alright. He couldn’t sleep if he didn’t.
⋆˙⟡♡ He couldn’t sleep anyway. Eyes a dark purple and the ache in his chest getting so much worse. It was because of you he couldn’t sleep, bed empty and cold without you, mattress hard and firm unlike yours. His nightmares consisted of your death and his inability to save you. He was better off seeing nothing with his eyes open than your blood with his eyes closed.
⋆˙⟡♡ Alfred was concerned. Confronted his Master Bruce during breakfast when Bruce was silent and gloomy. Yes, Alfred knew he would confess eventually, just needed a little shove. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Alfred.”
⋆˙⟡♡ You couldn’t stop thinking about him either… work was slow and long, your thoughts muddled together as you couldn’t stop racking your brain for a reason, any reason, as to why, why he left. Did you do something wrong?
⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t want to say you missed him, you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. You felt almost stupid, like he had used you and discarded you, but wasn’t that the whole point? You were a mess, confused and feeling a different kind of lonely only a sad heart could bring you. You felt abandoned.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would hide up in his room and think, read books but not pay attention to the words. Alfred would bring him his tea and advice whenever he could, but it seemed nothing could cheer him up. Bruce felt a different kind of loneliness now than he had his whole life. When his parents died they were taken away from him, he didn’t choose to give them up like he did you. He felt like he had lost yet another person.
⋆˙⟡♡ He really thought about moving on from you, a part of him arguing thats what was best for you. But the thought of fully giving you up to anybody else angered him. You weren’t his but you’d always been in some way, his. He yearned to be near you again, an itch in the back of his mind only you could scratch.
⋆˙⟡♡ He drunk, a lot. Spent his free time as Bruce Wayne drowning in whiskey and scotch, heavy liquor bottles empty and discarded on the floor. He almost felt like crying, but he’d just pass out on his bed, too drunk to crawl under the covers. Sometimes he’d pass out in the common room, leg hanging off the couch and hair unraveled, Alfred cleaning up the mess and putting a blanket over him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He drowned himself in his work to distract from you. He was frustrated, angry, weeks having gone by without you having set him on edge. He was beating petty criminals to a bloody pulp, sending them to Gordon barely conscious. He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. Alfred would just sigh when a bloody Bruce would storm past him, ensuring his suit was cleaned before the next day.
⋆˙⟡♡ It was a late Friday night when Bruce let his anger take control of him. It was some petty thief thinking he’d run off with the bags of cash he’d stolen. Bruce didn’t let him speak, anger taking over him like thick ropes of lava in his blood, anger that had festered in his black heart for weeks, simmering under his skin waiting for the moment it could boil over.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was bloody and dirty when he came to you in a blur of anger and love, adrenaline running through him with a determination boiling in his bones.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ It was a dark cloudy night when you saw Bruce standing outside your window; you lay in bed, cozy and under the covers, bathed in the dim golden light of your lamp. You were pretending to read a book you’ve meant to finish with a frown on your face, mind full of memories and the fruitless desire to have it all back. It was a melancholic pain that throbbed under your skin, sharp and persistent like a plant rash, the memory of forgotten things plaguing your mind and wishing it could just all go back to the way it was.
You almost didn’t see him if it wasn’t for the thud on your fire escape; you jumped and the book flew to the floor with a thud. Your eyes widened and you felt a wave of excitement and relief flourish through your veins as you scrambled off your bed. You couldn’t believe it, heart pounding as you rushed over to your window and swung it open like an eager baker opening an oven door. It was a big window, one with a giant view of the street below and the park across the ways, big enough to fit a grown man in a heavy suit.
Your hands were almost frantic, eyes wide in disbelief to just see him standing there in all his glory, back to you like he used to be all those weeks ago before he left, left you, left you behind. The memory of his loss and betrayal flashed back like a pull to reality, all those sad feelings you pushed away coming full frontal in your head like a tidal wave in your fragile brain.
Bruce’s heavy stare burned through you and it was like you could feel it on your skin, like a million microscopic bugs crawling all over you, your body buzzing with electricity and your hands almost shaking. You felt a flurry of difficult emotions coursing through you that all muddled together in one big mess in your head; anger and happiness, relief and irritation. You couldn’t pinpoint on one, feeling everything all at once when you opened your window and Batman was stood on the other side of you in all his threatening grandness.
You hated that he looked so good despite the grime.
You were left stunned as all you could do was stare at him. This was a moment you’ve only dreamt about, wished for for days and countless weeks, fantasized about for hours on end. How you would react, what you would say, how it would all go… and especially how he’d apologize on hand and knee for you, atone for his sins and plead for your pardon. It was all meticulously planned and carefully thought out, and now here it was, the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long; it was finally here, staring at you in the face. And it was so funny how all those ideas and all that confidence you had just seemed to vanish now that it was time to confront them; you were frozen as you stared back at him, unsure of what to do next and too tongue tied to formulate a thought. All that planning, pointless in the face of its precipitant.
Bruce stared back at you longingly and painfully, breaths hard and heavy and knuckles bruised and sore. His eyes were smeared in that black paint he always used, thick with an unspoken emotional torture, like he was being tormented in his own mind at the mere sight of you. He was in a way; you were his reminder of why he left, the catalyst of his destruction but at the same time his anecdote. It was all very confusing and contradictory; all he could understand was that it pained him to look at you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away.
Blood was splattered over his cheeks and suit, his heart pumping in his ears as he looked you over, putting all the pieces of you back in his mind; from your face, to your pink pajamas, to the black socks on your feet, then back to your cautious eyes. You were all right, you were okay and he was so relieved. He felt a weight drop from his chest, knowing you were in no certain danger but he always worried for you if he couldn’t see you, a consequence of everyone he cared for always getting hurt some way or another. Bruce felt what he could only describe as happiness, a feeling he only got with you, hit him full on like a train, smacking into his heart as his throat closed up.
He had missed you.
He had missed you a lot, more than he ever wanted to admit, but he would gladly do so for you. He had missed your pretty eyes and sweet voice, soft hands and smooth skin, and your voice, calming and rich like honeyed pastries. You were beautiful to him, so beautiful, and he couldn’t believe he had shown up here once more, that he would risk ever putting it in danger. But he had to come, he couldn’t take it anymore… and if his love for you was that perilous then his soul be damned.
He noticed the subtle way your face crumbled as your initial excitement died down, settled into pain and sadness and concern; your eyes running over the blood on him, wondering if it was his, really looking at him and realizing that he was really here, back on your fire escape. He couldn’t believe it himself, but here he was and he didn’t plan on leaving, not unless you ordered him to. You were nervous, eager to touch him, feel the suit under your palms like you used to, but you were also too stubborn to welcome him back into your home so easily, hurt once and not wanting to be hurt again. He understood that notion all too well.
Bruce felt an unfamiliar form of courage jolting through him, a type of courage so different from the one he used to fight criminals every night. This was a type of boldness that made him just want to grab your face and kiss you, hard, make up for all the lost time between you and spill all his confessions in the space between his lips and yours, make you taste the apology on his tongue. All he wanted was to be here again, here in your room; his nose was already filling up with the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry, his muscles relaxing instinctively at the sweet smell of it, knowing he was safe here. He wanted so badly to be here again, but now that he was he didn’t know what to do.
Bruce admitted that he was a little disappointed at your reaction to him, that you didn’t welcome him back in with open arms and gleeful smiles, kiss him and hug him and show him how much you missed him. But he knew that was too optimistic. He knew your antipathy was to be expected; he could only imagine the amount of hurt he’d put you through if it was anything compared to his own. He could only imagine how many nights you came home hoping he was there, waiting for you like he always did, how many days you kept looking at the clock, wishing it would hurry up and you could just go home already, how many days you hoped it would be different from the one before, how much hope he must’ve killed.
He felt horrible, regret and guilt spinning in his stomach as his muscles twitched, itching to touch you again; you were a drug coursing through his veins, and after two months of withdrawal he could say he was positively hooked once more. But, he knew he couldn’t just grab whatever part of you he liked like a greedy child in a toy store. He needed patience, he needed to wait for you to warm up to him on your own terms, no matter how long that took.
So, Bruce just stood on your fire escape with his hands holding the frame of the wall, blood and vanilla heavy on his nose as he stared at you, breathing hard but calm, waiting for you to make a move, any move or semblance of invitation.
Your eyes ran over the blood on him, the awkward silence deafening with all the unspoken words and yearning you both wanted so badly to address. Your eyes narrowed at the red spots and stripes on his suit and face, dripping off his gloves, worry shooting through your buzzing veins. You took a step back away from him in discontent, curious as to why he has suddenly appeared after so long away, eyes looking him over like the situation has really dawned on you. It had been weeks, two months even, since you’ve seen him, seen his black eyes and pointed ears, seen the vague Batman symbol on the chest piece of his suit.
Memories were coming back wave after wave at the sight of him, ones that wanted you to embrace him, ones that were gradually persuading you to give up this act and just be thankful he was here again, back to you. But you knew better than that, knew better than to just simply overlook a mistake as monumental as the one he made. You needed to have some damn pride.
Despite that…
Were you happy to see him? Yes, yes you really really were. You wanted him to just take off his mask and kiss you already, hell, you didn’t care if he left it on because you just wanted him to kiss you again. You wanted to feel his big arms around you once more and feel his warm palms on the dip in your back. Have him lift you up and smile into his kiss and say those magical words you yearned to hear. You could try to act tough all you wanted but at the end of the day you were still just a girl, a sad girl who wanted to be held by the man she missed so much… but your anger was still so present, lingering cold in your veins and greatly overpowering any positive emotions you had.
You wanted a damn good reason for why he did what he did.
“What are you doing here, Bruce? I thought you had moved on.” You licked your dry lips, crossing your arms and glaring at him with distaste and a false sense of confidence, a faux act of strength and apathy to cover up the real pain you felt. Your tone was anything but friendly, standoffish and disinterested, conveying the anger you felt almost perfectly; if it wasn’t for the waver in your voice and the glimmer in your eye you would even believe yourself.
You frowned at him, a cruel part of you hoping he was feeling any kind of hurt, any kind of hurt like the hurt you’ve felt. But at the same time, you just wanted so badly to hear that he came back for one reason and one reason alone. You. You wanted to hear him say that he missed you dearly, that he was so sorry for what he did and that he’d never do it again. If you heard that, then maybe, just maybe, you’d forgive him. No, you definitely would.
Bruce almost flinched at your tone, but knew it was well deserved. He looked at you with guilty eyes, like he’d committed the most heinous crime (which in his mind, he did), frown deep on his lips where a cut was on his skin, swallowing down the nerves in his throat at the look in your eyes.
A string of fear curled in his chest and made him nervous, made Batman nervous, a fear of being rejected, of him telling you how he really felt and you not reciprocating it. He couldn’t bear it, the uncertainty. But he was also afraid of hurting you any more than he already has, arguing with himself that he shouldn’t have come. But he was already here and he couldn’t leave now, couldn’t disappoint you any more than he already has. He looked up at you, his chest fluttering when he looked into your eyes.
“‘Could never move on from you…” Bruce grumbled in that deep voice of his, sounding pained and earnest and genuine, pulling at your heart like a trained harpist and making your eyes burn with brimming tears. He meant it, meant it more than you knew, staring at you with so much emotion in his eyes it almost scared you to see it; it was so unlike him to be so emotional, a part of you grateful that he trusted you enough to show it.
You felt a tingle on your skin when you looked back at him, a spark of joy peeking through the dark clouds around you. I could never move on from you…
Bruce’s dark eyes flickered between yours, gauging your reactions, intense and brooding as they always were. They bore into you like he was laying your soul bare in front of him, seeing deeper inside of you than you thought was possible. It made you feel flustered and agitated at being examined so fiercely. His voice, my god his voice, so soft but so gravelly, made you flustered, especially hearing it again after so many weeks of going without it. It washed over your skin like a warm blanket and made goosebumps pop up on your arms, a chill going through your spine that made your heart spike. You were trying so hard to fight it, fight that feeling inside of you that wanted him so badly.
You almost scoffed at his proclamation, looking at him offended, almost too theatrically, too rehearsed.
“Well it seems like you did, so.” You shrugged stubbornly, not knowing what else to say, really, not wanting to speak too much or else you’re afraid he’d hear the longing stutter in your voice. You shook your head incredulously and looked at the wall besides the window, where he stood outside in the cold air still. Secretly, you wanted to bring him inside already, bring him between your arms and hold him against your chest until he was one with you, unable to leave and bound to you forever, souls entwined and breaths shared. That may be a tad dramatic, but that’s what you felt; you knew he needed to cross that barrier on his own… you also knew that the moment he stepped back into your sacred space, the moment his heavy black boot stepped onto your wooden floor, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure anymore, and you’d collapse in his arms like a dying bride.
Obviously, that couldn’t happen. You needed resistance, strength, a reason.
You couldn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the tears welling in your eyes and the vulnerability staining your face. It was too embarrassing and too real; you didn’t want Bruce to see how easily you got worked up because of him. You didn’t want him to see all of you just yet, wanted him to feel guilty for what he did to you. He hadn’t even said much, just a single sentence, and you were already a desperate mess hiding under a false security. It was always so easy for him to get to you and you wished you were stronger for it.
Bruce knit his eyebrows at that, subtly shaking his head with a frown as his eyes still searched for yours. He wanted you to look at him, to see the honesty in his words and the sincerity in his blue eyes. He wanted you to see that he was hurting too, just as much as you.
“I didn’t… I just needed some time away… I needed to think.” He confessed vaguely, his voice gentle like he didn’t want to spook you, quiet but just loud enough for you to hear. Bruce always treated you like you were so fragile, a slippery glass vase between his clumsy hands. He never wanted to drop you, hurt you and watch you crumble into a million pieces… but he already did, and now he was trying to glue them all back together, put you back together, but only if you’d let him.
That was something you had come to appreciate about him; his gentleness, so opposite of the image he represented, what everyone believed him to be. He wasn’t just Batman, vengeful and harsh and dangerous. He wasn’t just bloody fists and sharp edges. He was incredibly genuine and tender, complex and multilayered; he was more than the bat, the symbol, the orphan, the millionaire. He was intricately sewn together with all different threads, and over the course of the year you and Bruce shared together you’ve managed to pluck and pull them all, see the warm center inside his cold shell.
Those were sides of him only you got to see, only you got to witness, only you got the privilege to marvel at and cherish. It might have been foolish to think, and you certainly think so now, but you had thought that made you special, that you were the only one he trusted enough, cared for enough, to show that side to… that there was more affection sizzling between you than you both wanted to say… but that just made it hurt so much more when he left, it just convinced you that you were too gullible for love, too naive to tell the difference between love and infatuation. When he left, he made you feel stupid.
You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, your face twisting into an anger Bruce didn’t want to see. Your eyes flashed to him immediately, burning and piercing and blazing, his words bouncing around in your head like a twisted game of racquetball. To think? He left, for months, because he needed to think? It sounded so phony, a simple excuse to disguise the truth, a simple excuse that only angered your unspoken pain.
“To think? To think about what? You’ve been gone for weeks, Bruce! You just left, didn’t tell me anything, didn’t tell me why, but now you’re telling me it’s because you had to think? That sounds ridiculous. I think I deserve a better explanation than, you had to think.” You mocked him, scoffing in his face. You were frustrated and lonely, wanting, deserving, a better reason to justify the pain you went through when he left. You couldn’t believe he couldn’t at least grant you that, a credible reason why.
Bruce grimaced, eyes closing like the sting of your words had just stung him. He slouched, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get the words out that he wanted to. They were stuck in his throat, itching his tongue and wanting so badly to get out, but he was mute, could only try to explain himself. Besides, there were no words to express just how sorry he was, but he knew how right you were. You were always right. You did deserve more than that, you deserved a better explanation.
Bruce swallowed down his dry throat, clenching his jaw as he looked back up at you, aching to step through the threshold of the window and grab your face between his broken hands and kiss your tears away. He felt hot coils of guilt and regret wrap around his heart and squeeze, his chest collapsing in on itself.
“I-I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. I needed to think… and to do that I had to leave. I just needed to understand why.” He spoke raspy, voice gritted with anguish and sincerity, looking at you with such desperation it made your foot itch to step towards him, made your heart yearn to comfort him. He was downright pitiful, fingers holding onto the brick so hard it could crumble under his strength. He was slouched down, looking up at you with sunken eyes, begging and pleading without an ounce of shame.
You stared back at him, clenching your jaw so hard your teeth hurt. God, you really did just want to hold him again, kiss him again… the need was too much, burning inside you and crawling under your skin. You had your hands crossed over your chest like you were physically trying to hold yourself back, like you were trying to protect yourself against his woeful whims of persuasion.
You frowned at his statement, the rational part of your brain that was still logical and loyal to you making you want to question him more, learn more, find out more. Your shoulders slumped as you looked back at him confused, lips pulled in a frown.
“Why what? Think about what? Can you stop being so vague!” You said exasperated, wishing he would just say what he meant and stop being so damn secretive all the time. Especially now, especially here. He was the one who showed up here after all this time and now he was trying to just sneak by with it. You refused to let him, forced him to confront his own dilemma. You couldn’t see it any other way, blinded by your own rose colored rage that needed an explanation.
Bruce grit his teeth, working up the nerve to answer you as he looked down at your feet, looking physically pained. He wanted to tell you why, he wanted to tell you why so badly, but just as soon as he wanted to say it he was found at a loss for words, struck with that same fear again that made his words stutter. That same fear of being rejected, ridiculed, that fear of putting his heart on his sleeve and having you pierce it with a silver dagger. He was Batman, the shadow of shadows who dealt with worse pain than you could ever imagine. He’s been shot, stabbed, cut up, pushed out of a window, and any other horror you could ever imagine but somehow… none of that hurt would ever compare to the pain caused by your rejection.
You had the power to destroy him and you didn’t even know it. You didn’t know how much of him you carried with you, how easily you could make him fall. Against Gotham he was the Dark Knight, relentless, strong and menacing, capable of things you didn’t want to think about. Against you… he was nothing, powerless, a twig in your hand you could crush without a thought. He was weak against your beauteous thrall and he just wished he could’ve admitted that to himself so much sooner.
Bruce felt his heart constrict, his palms suddenly clammy and his throat suddenly dry; he swallowed roughly. His own heart pounded in his ears, beating under his hot skin, the reality of what he was about to say hitting him full force and he felt like he could pass out, right here on your fire escape, light headed and heavy chested.
He let out a big breath through his nose, gripping the wall between his bloody gloved hands, mustering up the confidence he needed and pushing his fear down, down and deep so it couldn’t be acknowledged anymore. He smothered his insecurities and doubts like a candle wick, clenched his jaw and cleared the smoke from his mind. Bruce looked up at you, eyes glimmering like fire light as they looked over your form once more. He looked up from your socks and your feet, up to your smooth legs and pink nightgown, up to your face, where he focused intently on your lips and nose and eyes.
You looked back at him, where he was staring at you with a type of ferocity and intensity it had your breath stuck in your throat, chills going down your spine.
“…Why I was in love with you.”
You swore your heart stopped.
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╰✦・゚✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Of course, you loved him back, and Bruce couldn’t have been happier about it. But, during the actual relationship he was very much still the same, but you could see that he was trying to be closer to you, it was just hard for him. You helped him, made him feel not so scared.
⋆˙⟡♡ You were patient with him, never judged or pushed him to do things you knew he had a hard time doing. He always wanted to talk to you about his parents but he would stop himself before he went in depth about it. That was something he needed time with, and you understood it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always doing small things for you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so focused on him. He would always smooth out your pillows for you, make you breakfast and be shy that he made something you didn’t like, he would even blow out your candle for you if you ever left it lit. He would give you small gifts, sometimes expensive, a bracelet or a necklace, a set of earrings his mother adored. You loved them all.
⋆˙⟡♡ You had to buy him those vanilla bean and raspberry candles you had. He set them up around his home because the smell reminded him of you and your house, his safe space.
⋆˙⟡♡ He still didn’t like to talk, but he loved to listen. He’d ask questions that were deeply intimate and personal because he wanted to know everything about you. He’d apologize for prodding but he really had no shame about it. He wanted to know you more, learn everything.
⋆˙⟡♡ He loved holding you in his sleep, you made his nightmares go away and made him feel less lonely. He would still flinch sometimes, keep his hands at appropriate distances away from your precious parts. He was a gentleman, that was for sure.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t sleep a lot still, so he’d always stare at you when you slept, brush his hand on your cheek when he’d leave in his Batman suit for the night. He hated leaving you, but knew he had responsibilities to his city he couldn’t abandon.
⋆˙⟡♡ He introduced you to Alfred, rather, Alfred went to clean up Bruce’s room early in the morning and found you two in a rather compromising position. He just chuckled and walked out while Bruce awkwardly scrambled to compose himself. You were mortified.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce liked to draw you a lot, most of the time from memory when he was bored on a late night, sitting on a rooftop with charcoal scratching on ripped paper. He didn’t show them to you, but you found them anyway.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce was soft, gentle with you, but sex was a different story, just depended on his day. Most of the time he was sweet, making up for leaving you and hurting you. He always carried so much guilt about it, even when you told him you were over it and understood why he did it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t come out with you as a couple to the press, as Bruce Wayne. He didn’t want them to badger you and question you, make you feel uncomfortable. He came to you a lot, his house was always under constant scrutiny from the public.
⋆˙⟡♡ He threatened your boss when you refused to quit your job. It was late, he was Batman, and your boss just so happened to walk past him. Bruce threw him against the wall with promises of pain if he didn’t treat you right. You had a sneaky suspicion your boyfriend had something to do with your now positive work atmosphere and sudden raise, but decided not to question him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always touching you, or kissing you, hesitant to show outright affection so he was subtle when he did it. A hand on your lower back, hovering over your jacket or gently pressing into it. A hand on your arm, a peck on your forehead, a kiss to your cheek when you’d fall asleep.
⋆˙⟡♡ He told you he loved you every night, rarely ever during the day. It was in his bed or yours, when it was silent and cozy, he’d whisper it in your hair or against your skin, and you’d smile and tell him the same.
⋆˙⟡♡ You never expected anything from him besides his love, but he always felt like he owed you something, grateful that you gave him this chance to be with you despite what he did.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was constantly worried about you, on edge when you would be out by yourself or come home later than usual on the nights he couldn’t see you. He would always think the worst, think you were dead and he was too late, someone found him out and was using you to blackmail him. All the worst scenarios to prepare himself for the worst outcomes.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is constantly having negative intrusive thoughts. You’ll leave him, he doesn’t deserve you, he should’ve stayed gone. He’ll go quiet and try to isolate himself when that happens, so you always try and support him and reassure him in any way you can.
⋆˙⟡♡ He still has such a hard time being vulnerable and talking about his past, but he tries with you. He’ll get tongue tied sometimes or a sentence will drift off before he can finish it, but he’ll try.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is always so busy he forgets to eat. You’ll constantly remind him food is good for you. So, some days he’ll go eating nothing at all, despite you and Alfred’s insistence. But when he does, it’s a big feast Alfred prepares for him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He is very sweet, a complete gentleman. He has the best manners. He always says his pleases and his thank yous. He’ll follow a question with, when you have a chance, if you can. With Alfred though he’ll be so distracted he’ll just walk away. He doesn’t mean to, just makes sure he’s extra gentle with you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He likes black and white films to play in the background when he’s not doing anything. Or slow, almost gothic music to really set the tone. He’s emo like that and I just know it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He goes to Alfred a lot for relationship advice, scared he’ll mess up and you’ll leave him. He wants to avoid making mistakes with you, so he’ll ask for help or reassurance on what to do.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce has a tendency to ignore any problem until it goes away, especially to avoid a fight with you. He’s confrontational when it comes to you, so he’ll let you have your way a lot of the time. He doesn’t like to fight with you.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ Bruce was sweet and shy, always making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He never judged you when you’d tell him your stories or your past, he never accused you of things, and he never raised his voice at you when things would get frustrating. He loved you too much, appreciated you too much. You had no idea how happy you made him even if his face didn’t show it.
He was still wary, scared you’ll leave him, scared one of his enemies will find you out and take you away from him. But he was always there, watching and protecting, hiding in the shadows, being the shadow, on the nights you didn’t know. He may have been Gotham’s protector, but he was also yours.
He loved you and was grateful for you, so grateful he met you when he did and that you trusted him enough to let him see every lovely part of you. He vowed to protect you, to cherish you, and he made good on that promise. Even going as far as to blow out your candle every day before you’d leave for work. Couldn’t have you burning your house down, now could he?
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Honestly, I could go on and on about this man so I think I have to end this here. But thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed, especially @diavolosbaby who requested this. I really hope you like it, and if you’re not satisfied or I didn’t answer your ask correctly then don’t be afraid to tell me 💕💕 constructive criticism isn’t bad mmkay ☺️💕
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neonovember · 1 year
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Hi babes!
Could you possibly write a battinson x sunshine vigilante!reader where the reader is just an absolute sweetheart in and out of the suit. Like she's super sweet to literally everyone she meets but she's also a badass vigilante. Maybe her and Gordon are close friends and that's how Pattinson meets her and he is just absolutely lovestruck when he meets her for the first time. Like a love at first site kind of thing, he's just absolutely whipped and enamored by the reader. Maybe written from Batsy's pov.
Much love babes
thank you so much anon for sending this prompt! I know this is super duper late, but it was a wonderful idea I truly wanted to do it justice. I made the reader a little morally grey cause I think it would be a little different, so I hope you enjoy darling! Feel free to send in any of your requests and asks and even if it takes time I’ll make sure it's done. (who I write for)
Carved in stone
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pairings: bruce wayne x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of drug trafficking, morally grey!characters, Gotham itself (its a warning alright), mentions of loss and grief, and a hint of touch!starved bruce if you turn it upside down and squint.
word count: 4.6K
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The darkness that surrounds Bruce as he steps into his cave is one that he embraces like an old friend. The light that shines from every frosted window of the Manor stabs his eyes with an insistent twinge akin to a razor blade that had been left to rot on a windowsill during one of Gotham's thunderstorms.
There is a child-like fear in the air of the glacier cave sheathed in its darkness, the kind that materialises into green monsters and pale ghosts in the thin veil of nightmares. The kind that causes your parents to check under your bed, behind your clothing rack, in your closet.
Places where shadows and darkness would settle and make a home for itself. For most children, that gripping fear would outgrow itself over the years, replaced instead with reaching the 5th bar on the playground, failing driving tests, and falling in love for the first time. That was life, but Bruce Wayne was hardly a normal child. He had surpassed his pupils years before they had even begun to walk on two feet, and yet, that gripping fear of the dark still sprouted open deep within his stomach every time.
He has to shake it off of himself, as he reaches for his seat in front of the blaring screens projected from his desk. What he had found was too important to be tainted by the pathetic fears he allowed into his mind. Placing the contacts into the surveillance reader, Bruce combs through the hours of footage captured by the camera placed over his pupil. 
He had been trailing a shipment of drugs and armed artillery that was masked as a children's book delivery that had frequently made its route through Gotham's city streets. You didn't need to be Batman to know that it wasn’t the next edition of Captain fuckin’ Underpants being delivered to the underfunded children's orphanage. No, greed had taken over any sliver of humanity within Gotham governors long before the barrel of murders rocked through the suburban neighbourhoods and left hundreds orphaned.
He could hunt those killers down, but the crooked thug that had massacred his family was something Bruce would never be able to make it right.
The irony burnt a hole through the veil of what was left of him.
Gordon had been no help in tracking those marked vans down, whispering under the guise of the moonlight one night atop Gotham PD’S rooftop that it made his officers nervous. ‘Jittery and anxious’. Especially after so many of their dear brothers in blue ended up neck-deep in the underground crime syndicate they were meant to investigate, only to have their heads on a stick at the bottom of Miller Harbour.
Oh yes, Bruce knew all too well how greed had the habit of seeping into the morals of even the most respectable men, corruption had a way of appealing like salvation when you had no choice. That's what Gordan had said, and Batman laughed at that, shook his head and spit out in venom,
“There is always a choice, Gordon”
So it was up to Bruce now, the vigilante sheathed in darkness to uncover every small detail that could lead him to where these vans were heading too. This was different however, there was an unsettling itch behind his eyes, something pressing into his mind, begging him to see. And it isn't until he catches the flash of silver from the corner of the warehouse that he notices that someone else has been watching them too. Clicking on the magnified frame, Bruce leans in to try and decipher the glimpse of a face turned to the side, obscured by a black hooded cape that seemed to camouflage them into the darkness. The facial recognition software embedded in Bruce's computer pulled up nothing, not even a single trace of a face like theirs, obscured as it was.
Someone that lived in the shadows as Bruce did, someone who made it a home for themselves.
Bruce needed to find out who they were.
Now suddenly, Bruce has an actual reason to go to Gordan.
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You rip off the latex body suit that enabled you to glide through the air, and shove your face into a navy hoodie in the backseat of your car parked outside the GCPD parking lot. It wasn’t safe but you had no choice, anonymity wasn’t pretty, and it sure isn’t easy.
But what you had found tonight, trailing after those marked vans that drove down the streets of Gotham like they fucking owned the place, was too sensitive to hold onto any longer than you had to.
Your eyes strain and survey the dark city streets filled with drop heads stumbling around and the thugs that fucked with them, for that same marked van charging towards you. You knew they wouldn’t dare come within the vicinity of the police department, and most importantly, you were smart enough to not leave even a hint of a trail.
It was irrational, but you knew enough of this life to know not to bet on rationality to keep you alive. You have to force yourself to shake it off before slamming the car door behind you and marching towards Gordan's office.
Officers decked out in uniform, glance at you twice before recognition fills their features, barking out hushed hellos and waves of acknowledgement towards you with confused faces as you walk through the department walls. You couldn’t blame them, your dark makeup had smudged from the humid air of rainfall and fog, and the incessant itch of your eye didn’t make it any better, even your cover outfit was washed in a deep midnight black.
They were used to seeing you in bright colours and skirts every time you met with Gordan to transfer any knowledge you had gathered the night before during your vigilance. Usually, you would wait until the next morning, when the mask of your pedestrian outfit and a sunshine smile would keep any questioning looks from the Officers around you at bay. To them, you were just a friend of Gordan who happened to actually like the last few pieces of Old Gotham. 
It wasn’t like you were putting on a facade, despite the incriminating outfit you wore now, you loved the colour as much as a child loves colouring outside the lines, your home itself was true to that. A true reflection of the warmth and sunshine you radiated, filled with potted plants hanging from ceilings and in corners, dyed pane windows that reflected warm hues of orange and yellow when the sun set over your studio apartment.
But that didn't mean you would let crime syndicates tear through your home, and this couldn’t wait until the next morning, no, no it was too personal, and oh how you loved mixing pleasure and business.
You couldn’t wait until you got their jaws crushed beneath your boot, watch their blood run through the city streets until it washed away all the crime, and the filth was clean.
You had a special hatred for people who exploited children, using them as a cover to transport drugs and arms had motivated you enough to spend the entire 3 nights straight documenting their every move, where their vans lead to and from when they would start their daily route of drug trafficking. It was imprinted into your brain, an obsession you would have to pretend was for the good of peace to Gordon, and not for your own twisted vengeance.
You don’t knock as you charge through the office doors of Gordon's chief floor, your connection to Gotham City’s Police commissioner gives you free clearance of the department, and your baked honey biscuits were good enough to bribe even the stone-cold assistant parked outside Gordan's office anyway.
You shut the door with an even loud ruckus, causing Gordan to sigh as he rummaged through papers stained with smoke scattered across his desk.
“Now what do I owe the pleasure of having Ms Sunshine in my office this goddamn late in the night?” Gordan says, not even having to look up to know it’s your loud boots against the hallway floors.
“Gordan” You reply, marching towards his desk until you are standing across from him.
“Yes?” Gordan replies, still skimming through the backlog of case files and police reports that seemed to double every night.
“Gordan.” You reply again, this time with an edge of urgency in your tone, and it’s sharp enough to cause Gordan to flicker his focus towards you.
“Those vans I was telling you about? The ones I’ve been trailing since August? I’ve finally found something, the cold must have loosened them up a bit because they got pretty fucking lazy” You start before Gordan cuts you off with a half-hearted sigh.
“You’ve been on them for months now Sunny, every bit of information you’ve squeezed out of them has led us to dead ends. Every time we’ve found a trail to their hideouts it’s packed up and shut down by the time we arrive.” Gordan replies before you shake your head quickly
“No, listen, Gordan, we’ve been looking at it the wrong way” You press on, but Gordan shakes his head
“I can’t afford the manpower Sunny, you know how my men have been feeling lately, the whole department is just holding their breath. Fucking restless, you damn near scared me marching in like that”.
You grit your teeth as you mutter under your breath, Gordan wasn’t listening to you, you didn’t need his men, they were all cowardly corrupt assholes on a power trip anyway. You just needed him, and he wasn’t listening.
“Sometimes you won’t always get to win every battle alright? It doesn’t work that way for us, you gotta save it for the big ones, the ones that are so bad you can’t even see them yet. You start putting your heart into it like you're doing right now? You’re gonna lose yourself along the way”
“They’re using fucking kids Gordan” You bark out when he begins another speech, you can’t help it. Gordans acting as if this is some small drug bust in a crack house. It’s way bigger than that, more sinister, it always is.
Gordan looks towards you wide-eyed, eyebrows furrowing as he opens his mouth to talk before closing it again.
You see that as a guide to continue,
“We’ve been seein’ those vans' as transporting the drugs through the cover of the orphanage, but they’re only using it to get to the warehouse. We can never find the drugs on them because it never was, they’re using the goddamn kids to traffick it, Gordan, fucking middle schoolers”.
“Jesus Christ”
“Okay, alright-uh” Gordon mutters under his breath as he gathers the paperwork strewn in front of him. He reaches into an unmarked drawer, pulls out a white card, and scribbles a mix of numbers onto it you had never seen before.
“Take this-” Gordon begins, motioning to hand you the card before you shake your head
“Gordan-”
“Take this, and meet me tomorrow, please” Gordon pleads, looking up at you, you wait a bit before nodding and taking the card from his palm.
“Come at the same time, but maybe next time you come barging in you at least change first” Gordon groans, knowing the litany of questions he was bound to get hounded for the second you left.
You roll your eyes, “I did” You mutter under your breath before saying Gordan's name again
“Thank you, Gordon, seriously, you're the only hope I have left in Gotham you know, the only one who actually cares what happens to this goddamn city,” You say
“I’m sure that’ll change soon Sunny” Gordan hides a smile, nodding towards you, before you leave his office quickly. You are too absorbed with the hidden message Gordan had said just before you left, to notice Gordans secretary staring into your back, what did he mean?
You ruminate over it as you pass the officers and down the precinct stairs, piling into your car and driving through backlit streets illuminated by just the moon in the sky and the sound of bats.
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The visions of the cries of children fill your nights and leave you restless in the morning. You know you shouldn't, but you spend the break of dawn surveying the barren city streets for any sign of their presence, and when your obsession leaves you coming up empty you pull over and step out into the harbour bay.
You stare off into the Miller manor, watching the violent waves of the river crash into each other. Some people had an unrelenting fear of the ocean, of what may lay in its depths, but you had grown to fall in love with its beauty.
It was simple in its destruction, washing away the dirt and filth of the world. You had wished to escape in it, swim down to the bottom where you would lay for eternity, let the waves crash into you and take you away from it all.
You spent the entire morning standing there, blinking back hot tears and the brick that formed in your throat when you began to think too much of what you had lost.
You went home, for the first time since yesterday, and slept until you forgot.
-- -
Decked out in a light-coloured skirt and your face free from the dark black eyeshadow streaming down your face, you marched into the police department once again.
This time the officers greeted you with a genuine smile, seeming to forget about the events of yesterday, and were even more elated when you uncovered the Tupperware filled with the cookies you had made. You figured food would make them forget about it all but it seemed Gordan had beat you to it.
Opening the door to Gordan's office, you can't help but let out a chuckle when you see the commissioner in the same position you had stormed into last night. Gordon perks up at the noise, rolling his eyes before collecting the papers into a neat file and walking towards you.
Gordan begins to say something before a loud commotion muffled his reply, you reach for your gun fitted into the holster on your waist, and shift your body to point it towards the door of Gordan’s office.
It begins to shake as the loud sound of metal on wood gets increasingly closer and you can't decipher it until it stops at the front of Gordans office to understand what it is.
Footsteps.
Your eyes catch the door handle and begin to turn slowly, and you take a tentative step closer to the door, forming into a defensive stance with your gun pointed straight ahead and your finger dangerously close to the trigger.
The door opens much like it had before, with a loud bang, and you aim your gun towards the darkness that follows.
“Wait!” Gordon screams towards you, but you don't dare to take your eyes off the dark figure missing your perfect shots. There is a release of compartments before the figure uncovers itself, and there he is, in all his beautiful and dark glory:
Batman.
Batman’s POV
“What the hell Gordon?” You murmur, the glow of the table lamp illuminates your features, highlighting every dip and curve and line and Bruce can’t help but stare.
“Listen, please put your gun down Sunny, I invited him alright? Because there is no one in this precinct who can help you half as much as he could'' Gordon says, and Bruce catches your scrutinising gaze that seems to penetrate him through his cowl.
He raises his eyebrows as if testing the waters to see if you'll really do it, but you sheath your gun back into the holster hidden under that patterned skirt that's got Bruce thinking thoughts he shouldn’t.
“Uh, I think this conversation is better equipped somewhere more..discrete. Follow me” Gordon coughs, before opening the office doors. Bruce follows the dark patterned shirt of Gordon back from a short distance, you by his side, the heat emanating from you causes Bruce to step further away.
Bruce moves like he knows the ins and outs of the building, his shoulders tense, and his eyes always searching, but his body moves fluidly through the halls like muscle memory etched into him and you can't stop staring.  Bruce catches your eyes once, his cobalt blues stare right back at you with no hesitation, a flicker of recognition flashes over his eyes and Bruce begins to piece the face that's got his heart stopping and his hands reaching all at once.
You shift your eyes to the wainscotting lining the walls of the precinct, and Bruce's chest burns with a desperate need to see you seeing him. Bruce didn't know what overcame him, it seemed like the fear of the dark was replaced with the fear of never seeing you again. Bruce didn't even know your name, just Sunny. Bruce wanted to see how it would taste on his tongue, speaking your name and having your reply.
“You sure you know your way ‘round this building Gordan?” You sigh, as it seemed you both were  through endless hallways
“We’re here” Gordon replies, before pushing a lever door that opens into the precinct rooftop.
Bruce steps out into the rooftop courtyard, the cold chill of the night breeze does nothing to the burning hot in his stomach, but your visibility shivers and Bruce has to stop himself from covering you with his own damn cape.
Gordan passes you his worn-out leather jacket and you take it gingerly before he nods to Bruce in understanding moving to the far end of the roof.
You step towards the edge of the roof, knuckles turning white as you grip the handrail and Bruce watches you gaze out into the sky-scraping towers of Gotham City, glistening under the pale moonlit sky.
“It doesn't look so bad from up here you know?” You murmur, and Bruce's eyes flicker from the city streets below to your gaze.
Bruce shakes his head “No, no it doesn't”
“But then, doesn't everything get uglier up close?” You continue, your gaze flickering back to the city skyline
“No, not everything” Bruce replies in a whisper, but it's loud enough to hear and you shift your gaze back to Bruce
“You were there, weren't you?” Bruce says, the recognition hit him the second you stared off into the city, that same dip in the cheek, that same mark on your jaw. You were sheathed in the cover of the warehouse darkness then, and adorned an outfit akin to what Bruce was wearing now, but it was you the entire time.
“I suppose it was, but how were you there, Batman?” You reply, eyes flickering down to Bruce's tall stature,
“Been trailing them for weeks, but every single thread of their trail-” Bruce says
“Is a loose end” You murmur, and Bruce nods in agreement.
“I know it may look like it isn't, but I've been after them for even longer, and it’s like this has become my entire life now you know? If they can’t be stopped, if I can't stop them then’”
“What’s the point” Bruce replies
You nod thoughtfully, it was why you had barely slept in the last month, barely ate, this vengeance, this thirst for justice, it consumed you. And now it seemed you had met someone who was consumed by it too.
“How did this” You gesture between Bruce and Gordan “alliance even form” You question, it didn't really hit you then but this was the known vigilante that had been plastered on the front of newspapers across Gotham, now standing, comfortably on GCPD’s rooftop.
Bruce hides a chuckle, shaking his head “It’s a long story, but you see that light projector there” Bruce gestures his chin to the signal hidden near the edge of the rooftop, tilted to the sky.
“It’s a distress signal, carved out in a bat wing, and whenever Gordan turns it on, I always come, no matter what”. Bruce says
“I’m not foolish, these people we're both after, aren't the normal crooks and pickpocketing gangs, and together we can put an end to all of this, and I know you I haven’t made the best defence compared to the hundreds of newspapers calling for my head, but I care, I care about Gotham-
“I know, Batman” You stop Bruce mid-way through his erratic tangent, reigning him back in with that heavenly voice of yours.
“Bruce” He replies, after a heated silence, and a flash of recognition fills you.
How could you not have pieced it before? You don’t know if Bruce sees the surprise in your eyes but it dissolves right back into the space between you.
“Bruce” You nod, his name taste sweet on you tongue and it has him yearning to hear it again.
“I thought I would be scared if I ever came face to face with Batman, but, all I feel, all I really feel is understanding. I know you, Bruce, I know you because I see myself in you. This long life of fighting, of putting your everything in your purpose. It gives you a reason to survive in this hellscape, but it also fucking destroys you.” You say, eyes searching Bruce’s .
“How did you get into this life?” Bruce says
“I know from this darn skirt that is yellow of all things it may not look like it but I’ve been fighting the plague of crime and greed that had taken over this city for years”
“First with the power of books that could lead me to become something those rich fucks needed and then with my fists after this city took something from me it had no right to. And honestly? I’m surprised I hadn’t run into you sooner”
“Don't say sorry because I’ve hated that word ever since it happened” You reply
Bruce nods, his grip on the rooftop rial tightening as he stares off into the city skyline, Bruce wore his loss like a tattoo imprinted on his forehead, anyone could see what the violence of this city had done to him without having to read the hundreds of newspapers detailing his parent's gruesome death.
But you, at first glance seemed like a damn tourist in this city, unfazed by the crime and death that seems suffocating to Bruce, radiating a kind of glow and kindness Bruce had long forgotten exists.
“And for the record, I don’t read the newspaper” You reply, causing Bruce to let out a chuckle
“Oh yeah? You’re too prestigious for ink on paper?” Bruce replies
“No, not really, I just like to get my news first hand, as an observer. My uniform may not be as prestigious as yours, but it gets the job done and is a hell of a lot more discreet” You reply, a smile pulling at your cheek.
“Discreet is definitely the word to call it, couldn't even decipher your face in a damn near million-dollar computer” Bruce replies
You look at him in confusion, but he simply shrugs in response and before you can let out a reply, Gordon comes back into view from whatever dark corner he had ventured to.
“Now that you have acquainted yourselves, why don't we find a way to take those sick fuckers down” Gordan replies, and Bruce catches the delighted expression that forms over your features. You nod enthusiastically towards Gordon's words, interjecting pieces of information that even Bruce himself had not acquired. Bruce watches you in your element, formulating a plan with a million other plans B’s, that same unstoppable desire to protect this city that drives Bruce to put on that cape each day, and it’s like Bruce is falling in love.
“So we’ll hit them from the orphanage rather than from it, hopefully, their lack of diligence continues in our favour, Batsy, you okay?” You reply, eyeing him in worry as Bruce stares back with a glazed expression before snapping back at the sound of your nickname.
“Batsy? Now that's a good one” Gordon chuckles
Batman eyes you in question to which you reply with a shrug
“Batman is too long, and I figured if you're gonna be callin’ me Sunny, I’ve got to give you a nickname too, right?” You justify, and Bruce fails to hide the smile that erupts across his face at the mention of him calling you Sunny.
“He’s smiling Gordan!” I made Batman smile!” You giggle, shaking Gordan's shoulders, and if Bruce could he would bottle that sound and keep it forever.
“That's definitely a first, isn't it Batsy” Gordon replies, and Bruce simply shakes his head
“Can we get back to what’s important here?” Bruce replies, but the smile in his voice is clear as ever, and you don’t know why but it fills you with a burst of joy in a place that had remained empty ever since your sister had left.
“Mhm” You reply, and Gordan shares a knowing look towards Bruce as if to say “I’ve found you out”, and for some strange reason Bruce wants him to, he wants the entire world to know he's completely enamoured and enthralled by you the second he stepped into Gordan's office.
“Alright, whilst you both were arguing over costumes, I got a distress alert from one of the squad cars surveying the area near the orphanage. One of the vans seems to be making some sort of detour, we’ve got to hit them now, I don't know when they will be this unprotected” Gordon replies.
“I’ve got a car waiting for me, so Sunny, you’ll ride with Batsy” Gordon replies, and Bruce doesn't have a hard time seeing the smile hidden behind Gordan's stern face.
Bruce bristles at the mention of having you so close to him in such an enclosed space, fearing you would protest out of fear of him and all the other insecurities Bruce had burdened. But you nod and smile towards him, and it's like every doubt, every worry is dissipated, and every anxious thought sounds so stupid because nothing else matters but you.
And so, just like moments before Bruce walks side by side with you down the endless corridors of the Gotham Police precinct, but now, with the heart scorching desire to follow you down a hundred endless corridors, to dampen the burn in his chest with your silken soft voice.
Bruce didn't believe in prophecies, or soulmates that transcended time and space, but right now it was as if you both were meant to be. A sacred bond that was carved into stone long before Bruce had started to lose himself in his own purpose, long before the fear of darkness had seized him all those years ago.
Bruce had thought you made a home in the darkness within you, but it was so different now. You embraced this darkness, this thirst like a mother embracing a child, carved it into you like a relic, until it transformed within you to become the light Bruce had been blinding himself to.
And Bruce pleaded for the first time, he begged to the midnight sky for the first time since he cried out for God to will the loss of his parents to be erased. Bruce was left with the bitter taste of a silent sky then, but now he’s on his knees, begging that you would make a home for him too.
Bruce wanted to take the darkness you carried, wanted to uncover it from your skin and bones until all that was left was the illuminating glow Bruce knew he would ruin. But he didn't care, for the second first time today, Bruce wanted to be selfish, and have you all to himself.
Wanted to feel your touch hold him until the burn of your absence was stamped away, wanted you to uncover his cowl and run your fingers through his hair, wanted to curl into your body and under your skin at night, wanted everything. 
Bruce wanted it all.
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the-wintershade · 1 year
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becoming unraveled | pattinson!batman
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series: staring into the echo | 1 | 2 | 3  pairing: pattinson!batman x reader  summary: bruce needs to hear the truth. wc: 2.3k+  genre: angsty, reader has doubts about feelings, sad, but has a happy ending (here it is!) 
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His voice, sad and open, calls to you. “Was it something I did?”
Your face wavers and your feet stop moving.
Of course, this has nothing to do with him. This is all about you. This is about a relationship that you’re realizing you imagined all in your head.
He did nothing wrong. He has a right to pursue and like who he wanted. You’re an adult. You’re responsible for how you feel. You’re trying to sit and deal with your emotions.
But you never meant for Bruce to feel like he could do anything to jeopardize what the two of you had. You just wanted to process and wait for it all to go away.
Slowly, you turn around. His shoulders timidly fold into each other. He looks so vulnerable. You can’t stand it.
You decide to try to tell the truth.
You can’t promise you would tell everything, that might be too risky if you’re trying to protect the relationship you have, but you would at least try to help him understand.
“No.” Your face scrunched into a look of concern. Bruce responds, becoming less sorrow-filled and more inquisitive. “Of course not, Bruce.”
“Then why do I feel like I did something to upset you?”
“You didn’t,” you shake your head.
He slowly pads closer, watching to make sure you don’t back away from him. You don’t this time. “You never said anything to me before you left. You didn’t let me check if you were hurt. I don’t think you were even going to answer my texts.” He stops right in front of you, your toes nearly touching. He reaches down and grasps your hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Tell me, what did I do?”
You swallow. Worry engulfs his eyes as they scan across your face, up and down your arms.
The last thing you expected was for Bruce to come and seek you out. You couldn’t help but keep asking yourself, where was this other woman?
You need to bring her up. While you enjoyed having him so close to you, so worried about you, and so insistent on making things right, you need to know what happened between them before you let yourself fall into him.
You close your eyes, scrunching your brows together in a grimace. You can’t believe you’re going through with this.
“What?” Bruce asks, noticing your facial expression, an anxious tone both softening and lifting his pitch. His grip on your hands tightens. “What is it?”
“It’s stupid,” you breathe.
“It’s not, whatever it is. Talk to me.”
You take a deep breath and open your eyes. You make sure to keep your gaze locked on the floor and not on him. He can’t read what he can’t see. “Did the woman with the red hair go back with you to the manor?”
“What woman with the red hair?”
You scoff. You knew this was stupid. Either he’s denying this on purpose or he really does not remember what you’re talking about. “The woman you were talking to when we got out of the building.”
His silence prompts you to look up at him. His expression twists in confusion, eyes shifting slightly as he sorts through his memories. “Oh! Selina.”
Just what anybody wants to hear. The bright recognition in his voice has you ready to confirm your suspicions about her going home with him. Then Bruce keeps talking.
“The woman with the red hair,” Bruce continues. “That was Selina. Selina Kyle. We’re working together to try to get information about the Riddler’s targets. Her friend is missing. She got a lead but lost them in the building explosion.”
You take another deep breath.
He didn’t answer your question. But now you’re more interested in questioning him a bit about the nature of their relationship. Even if you have to result to lower methods, methods you don’t even like the fact that you were about to use.
“You two seemed pretty cozy,” you murmur, trying to keep your eyes away from his face again. He would know what you’re doing if he looks you in the eye. You feel his confusion in the silence.
“She was pretty upset, but it’s not like that.” Bruce squeezes your hands. “We’re just temporary partners. Once we figure things out, we’ll go our separate—wait,” Bruce hesitates and you bite your lip to keep yourself still.
There was that partner word again. As much as you’re elated to hear that he doesn’t think of Selina in that way, it doesn’t dismiss the fact that you don’t know how he views your relationship. Your heart starts to race in his silence. “Are you jealous?”
You could lie, but you told yourself already that you wouldn’t do that. You need to stand your ground, no matter how scary that was. “I don’t know.” Your hands twitch in Bruce’s steady hold. “I just was confused. You looked at her like she was more than just a partner.”
Bruce starts laughing, and you would be lying if you said that it doesn’t tick you off a little. This is a very serious conversation.
You’re beginning to pour your heart out to him. If he isn’t going to take that seriously, you would stop talking to him entirely.
“If you’re going to laugh at my feelings, we can just talk later.” You start to back away from him, slipping your hands from his grasp, but he tightens his hold, keeping you planted where you had only taken a few steps back.
His eyes open as his chuckles die down. His gaze fills with clarity and…happiness?
Only a few moments ago he looked upset and confused, now he looks as if he had made a special discovery that helped him unlock a puzzle.
“I’m sorry for laughing. I do take your feelings very seriously. I just never thought we would get to this moment.” His eyes are so bright now; they draw you in, refusing to let you look away.
“What moment?”
“The one where I can finally be honest with you because I know you feel the same.”
Your heart picks up again. You’re starting to get whiplash from all of the emotional ups and downs.
But now, you let a bit of hope seep through, lightening your face and coloring your voice in tiny bits of giggles that echoed his.
Was he going to admit what you’d been waiting to hear? Did he see you as more than just a partner?
You anxiously shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Okay, out with it, Bat guy.”
Bruce gently drops your hands. For a second, you thought this is going to go differently, that he’s going to say how thankful he is for your partnership and talk about how he works hard not to jeopardize it.
But then he brings his hands up to cup your face, tilting your chin to look him in the eye.
“I didn’t sleep with her. I was up half the night worrying about you. I could barely sleep thinking you were upset with me.”
You sigh in relief, letting your eyes slip closed. The hope you kept firmly in check spilled forth through your veins, heating your veins and adding a flush to your cheeks. You meant more. You mean more to him.
“So, you see me as more than a partner?” You smile at him, knowing how tender and vulnerable your eyes look.
Before you would have locked your expression down immediately. Now, there’s no need. You’re safe with Bruce, even if the answer is a no.
That same tenderness reflects in the intensity of his stare. Then, he gently leans in, waiting for your foreheads to touch and for you to angle your chin toward his face before he presses his lips against yours. He drops a hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your hands curl into his shirt.
His kiss is firm but soft, and he surges forward to capture your lips again before leaning back to press his forehead against yours. “Yes, I see you as more than a partner,” he whispers against your lips.
Your stomach erupts in butterflies while your heart calms down. You could feel a puffiness starting to form on your lips.
He feels the same way. He really feels the same way.
“What about me?” Bruce pulls back to brush some of your hair away from your face. “Am I more than a partner to you?”
You smirk and reach up on your tiptoes to kiss him again, lingering longer than you need to. Your core warms as his arm tightens against your back. When you break for air, you chuckle. “I’m not in the habit of kissing my working partners.”
“Oh really?” Bruce laughs. “Well good. Otherwise, HR would have a file about a mile long on you.”
Your laughter is bright and smiley and warm. Bruce grins, a warmth in his eyes.
“You’ve been more than a partner to me for some time.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and running a couple of fingers along his skin. His breathing stops for a second before he demurely smirks.
Right as he’s getting ready to kiss you again, your phone rings. You check your watch.
It’s 8:05 am. You’re missing breakfast with Gordon.
You disentangle yourself from Bruce, but not without begging Bruce to let you go. His laughs follow you into your room. You answer the phone without looking at the caller ID; you already know who it was.
“Hey, Gordon. I’m so sorry. Something came up.” You answer, breathless and still giddy.
“That bat guy showed up at your place, didn’t he?”
You chuckle, ready to ask how he knew but then you remembered the bat signal the other night and how Gordon could tell something was wrong with you and how Bruce knew you went back to the department instead of going straight home.
“You told him to come here?” You ask.
Gordon is silent for a moment. “I recommended it.”
“Wow. Look at you, matchmaker for the department.” Bruce now leans against your door, looking at you on the phone with a happy grin. He must have already figured out who you’re talking to.
“You guys have a good thing going on. Figured all you needed to do was talk it out.”
“You’re really something Lieutenant. You knew he was going to show up in the morning?”
“No. I told him to wait till the evening after you’d blown off some steam. He’s the nutjob who thought the earlier the better.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm. Did he use the biscuit excuse?”
“As a matter of fact, he did.” You cock your head to the side to look at Bruce. He looks back with an innocently curious look on his face. You make up your mind to tease him about it later.
“That was a decent one,” Gordon hums. “A little on the nose for my taste, but it seemed to work because here I am with a pot of coffee in front of me and nobody to drink it with.”
“I’m still going to be there. I just might need 15-20 more minutes.”
“Fine. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“See you soon, Gordon.”
“Yeah. Hey. Bring that bat guy with you, will you? I think I’ve earned a free breakfast.”
“Will do, Lieutenant.”
You click off the phone and shake your head at Bruce. “What?” He knowingly smiles.
“You little schemer. You planned this thing with Gordon. And there are no biscuits! You lied to me.”
He grins, white teeth peaking out behind his lips as he walks closer. “You know Alfred has plenty waiting for you back at the manor. Plus, I needed somebody to run some thoughts by. I thought I was reading into the situation wrong. I needed a second opinion.”
“Hmm. I guess I can believe that.” Bruce comes to a stop right in front of you, bending down to press a kiss against your temple. Butterflies flutter in your stomach again.
It���s nice to know that all of your worries would lead you to this moment with him. Now, you don’t have to concern yourself with how he thought about you.
Bruce likes you and sees you as something precious in his life. It’s endearing as much as it was scary.
Your honesty paid off. The voices in your head are quiet now. The memories with Bruce change from black and white back to gold.
Now you could just be. Just be with him.
“Oh, also, Gordon invited Batman to breakfast.” You squeeze his shoulder as you walk around him to retrieve the clothes you were going to change into.
“He did?” Bruce’s face scrunches into a confused expression.
“He did. He expects repayment for his services in the form of an early morning meal.”
“Of course,” Bruce chuckles. “I should get back to the manor to change then.”
“Sounds good.” You set your uniform down in your bathroom before you quickly bounce back over to Bruce. “See you soon.”
You lean up and press a kiss against his lips. Bruce responds right away, a hand lifting to your cheek to draw you in, another holding your waist. His lips gently move across yours.
This is really happening. You’re together with Bruce. That the little voice that held on to him was right.
Bruce presses one long kiss to your lips before he backs away, smiling in a daze. “Drive safe,” he tells you, turning around to leave your apartment.
A warmth blossoms in your core that you haven’t felt in a long time.
That warmth follows you from the shower, to your car, to the diner, and expands again when you feel Bruce, now dressed as Batman, slide into your side of the booth, nudging your knee under the table.
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taglist! @beautifulgrungekid​ (I got u)
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imagine--if · 2 months
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Get ready for some more Batman and riddler fanfic in honour of the movie’s release (4th March) 😁🎉
I can’t wait for the second part next year 🥳
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EDIT: NEW RIDDLER ONESHOT OUT :)
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ladyelissarose · 2 years
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That should’ve been the plot.
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werdlewrites · 11 months
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Are You Happy? (Bruce Wayne x OC)
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summary: And despite the tears, the drunken nights, and the pleading for the pain to end - she never tossed it over the bridge like she dreamed of. But could never explain why she continued to wear it beneath long sleeves, hidden from curious eyes and even more sneaky cameras hidden around corners. Maybe it was a reminder that a girl like her could have a love like that, despite losing it like some tragically written novel. warnings: post breakup ouchies, mentions of two oc's falling out (i'm only mentioning it because it seems out of place BUT IT'S FOR THE STORY) wc: 1623
"Are you happy?"
The words play on loop. They run through her mind on track until the circuits begin to fry, letting the world around the two of them begin to fall into a standstill. The gears are burning, and she's unable to process anything outside of this small bubble. The chaotic mass of people dressed to shimmer and shine in the unruly grit of the city had become a blur, her attention zeroed in on the man before her. His face somehow stone cold, yet filled with sincerity and a genuine need to know the truth. The real truth, no matter how hard it hit, or how delicately she held his frailty in her palms. Like a wounded bird searching for care and warmth.
The chatter and thunderous sound of heels to tile had been drowned out by her own heartbeat, flooding her senses as it pushed blood with force. She swears for a moment her vision fills with crimson before blinking it away, idle fingers roaming over the intricate bracelet he made her swear to keep even at the end of all things. And despite the tears, the drunken nights, and the pleading for the pain to end - she never tossed it over the bridge like she dreamed of. But could never explain why she continued to wear it beneath long sleeves, hidden from curious eyes and even more sneaky cameras hidden around corners. Maybe it was a reminder that a girl like her could have a love like that, despite losing it like some tragically written novel. Maybe it was to keep nightmares at bay while she slept, filling her nights with only dreams as she walked through memories with him.
He's patient with her, watching. Seeing the twitch of her skin just beneath her eyelid paired with a knitted brow, and he knows what it all means. She’s upset to see him, and rightfully so. His face had only been seen on the screen or in papers, and even then was it a rarity. It had been a long time since she walked away, her rage leaving a scorched path along the steps of his home while he watched in silence, a fist at his side and regret in his heart. How long had it been, exactly? He held no concept of time as it all seamlessly blended together, his nights spent out there - deep within the city and days trying to understand the meaning of it all. He was glad she wasn't there to see him become this thing - something he had always been destined to be. Yet all the same, he wonders if he would find more willingness to sleep if he knew she was only a few feet away, safe.
"Yes," is her cool reply. Her chin out straight, shoulders pulled back with confidence and hands linked just over the velvet dress. His mind wanders, creating only a moment for the man to bask in - a fantasy, where he walks by her side with a hand gently at her back to feel the soft fabric against his fingertips. Yet she stands alone, tall and proud amongst the crowd. One could easily look over her as she blended in with all of the fineries, like she belonged - and she did. But his eyes always found her - a honeybee to a freshly bloomed flower, dusted with pollen and sweet nectar. He needed her, no matter their distance. No matter how far he had pushed her away. And yet the flower thrived, needing only the water and sun as she danced in the wind. She was happy.
She can't see the clench of his teeth or the fist in his pockets, but he nods in acceptance. Taking it for what it was and knowing it had all been for the best. "Good, you deserve to be."
The woman's fingers are clenched together, knees forced to lock in place beneath the gown to keep her from stumbling forward. She had to remind herself to remain grounded, to stay strong the moment she locked eyes on him - his presence earth shattering as he moved through the space with all eyes on him, hushed whispers of his unannounced arrival. Each move he made was typically monitored through media and spread throughout the city like wildfire, leaving a flock of sheep to follow just to get a good look at the mysterious man, the enigma. He had no invitation for the exhibition, and never needed one as he passed through the doors without question. He owned every step she took, and each breath that filled her lungs.
He owned her in more ways than one. She carries herself high above the rest to stay afloat as the flood of heartache washes in, all the while knowing someday she’ll surrender to its current and admit her truth. She was unhappy.
He had gone, leaving her nights cold, empty and skin burning for a familiar touch yet to be satiated. A year's worth of heartbreak unable to find ways to mend itself, though finding ease as his face sunk into the shadows for weeks at a time. Each photograph of his face ripping the wound wide open until he sunk away once more. And then, a long-time friend now distant, hardly heard from with purpose. A clear miscommunication as arguments tore them further apart, like a twisting thread until the tension snapped. They tried to tie the pieces back together with a coffee date, or a simple phone call - and more often than not, someone had stormed out with that rope growing thinner. The woman was constantly surrounded by people yet no one all the same, all speaking about business and without care for her. But this is what he had wanted, and this is what she was giving him, no matter if it killed her.
“You -” he pauses, eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape, or to see who had all been watching - and there were many. 
There were wandering eyes, looking to the art, to their friends, then back to the duo before gossiping about the interaction. Their time spent together had reached multiple headlines, paparazzi following their every move much to her dismay. Their separation didn’t keep their faces out of the prints, instead it fueled the city's curiosity, and each newspaper that landed on his steps was tossed into the fireplace. The world had nothing better to do than spread rumors on something they were clueless about. 
“You - uh,” Beautiful. He wants to say, “You look beautiful,” but the words are caught on his tongue, trapped by the fear of her response as she lays him out for all to see, shaming him. Trapped by the lack of confidence he once had when he held her in his arms - now out of practice and uncertain if he should say anything at all, after what he did. He chooses a safer route, watching her shoulders deflate to something more relaxed, though disappointed. “It was good to see you.”
Her lips pursed together, gaze falling down to stare at nothing in particular but more so to avoid his gaze for only a moment, searching for the same strength she held before he walked into the hall. But there’s nothing. She finds herself shaken, a mere shadow of the woman to boldly shake hands with strangers, eager to speak on pieces she’s spent weeks to months creating before they placed a heavy price for purchase. “Yeah, you too, Bruce,” she replies, a gentle but feigned smile shining beneath the dim lights. She’s unsure if it’s convincing, but the public eats it up and takes it home for something to talk about for the next few hours. And it’s enough to pull the smallest, crooked smile from the man before turning his back on her, moving through the exhibit slowly to drink in the sight as he eases his way to the main entrance.
When his back vanishes amongst the crowd, that’s when she finds herself weak against the rushing water. Her grip is loosening, a piece of her wanting to follow after him and say, “We’re a team. With and without the mask,” and refuse to take “no” for an answer. Sit her stubborn ass down in the rubble where he worked, absorb his frustration expressed in silent rage as he ripped equipment from the desk. Shit he could afford to break. He could lie and say he hated her, never loved her, never needed her - all in hopes to get her away from the darkness he surrounded himself in. But he was as stubborn as she was, and the fight for a peaceful resolution would last until every star burned out and the world went cold, and silent with death. So she stays behind, allowing their worlds to grow and flourish on different paths no matter how many weeds they come across.
“Ms. Whitlock?” The woman turns from the scene at the door, finding her assistant with clipboard in hand and a weary smile on her face - having stood in the distance with great patience, watching, and waiting for an appropriate moment to speak with the artist. “There’s a company manager that would like to speak with you. He has..offers for a commissioned piece.” The younger girl is timid, head hung low with eyes avoiding contact for shame of coming to her in such a sensitive moment. But the woman straightens her dress and pulls at the long sleeves, her shoulders now back as they once were with a forced assurance, shaking away the disturbance her old love brought with him. “Lead the way, Darcy-”
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dreamtinblackandwhite · 2 months
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"I think this is the first time I've hear you moan... it was like a fucking melody." Prompt.
Can you please do battinson x female reader smut. After he takes her virginity the night before, they wake up in his bed & have sweet morning sex. Y/n is still sore from Bruce’s big 🍆 so he goes down on her first and then has sex.
sing for me
battinson x female!reader note: thank you for the request :) I was all blushy writing this one, oops warnings: smut, NSFW, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), brief mention of cock warming word count: 1868
“Good morning, beautiful,” Bruce whispers into your ear as he presses a soft kiss against the nap of your neck. His hands gently glide across your unclothed skin; searching their way down your shoulder and across your torso before resting at your hip bone and gripping softly.
You’d barely just started to stir, mumbling an incoherent greeting as your boyfriend continues to press soft, loving kisses along the skin of your neck. “Last night was amazing, love; you are amazing…” he whispered again, gently nipping at your earlobe at the end of his sentence. You let out a small whine as a shiver runs down your spine. “Are you feeling okay? No… regrets?”
You rolled over to face Bruce, gently setting your hand on his cheek with a loving smile. “I’m okay,” you promised, kissing his nose gently. “No regrets. I guess, maybe I thought I’d feel different losing my virginity but I don’t… I just feel—” you paused to bite your lip as you tried to put words to what you were trying to say. “I love you.”
Bruce’s smile grew wider at your words. “I love you,” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours deeply. You spent a few minutes like this, your lips moving together passionately but soft and lovingly. You felt the butterflies in your stomach multiple as Bruce arched his hips towards you, pushing his erect cock against your stomach.
Images of the night before fluttered through your mind at the feeling: his kisses along your thighs, the way you came around his fingers first as he helped to stretch you out, the way he was so slow and kind as he pushed into you, the fullness you felt… God, the absolute fullness. “B-Bruce,” you giggled softly as you pulled away with a bright blush on your face. He had traced his hands down your thighs and was tracing soft circles against the sensitive skin just below your core.
“I think last night was the first time I’ve ever heard you moan, Y/N,” he whispered, looking into your eyes with his lust filled orbs. He voice was shaking and you could hear him swallow his own moan before you spoke again. “It was like a fucking melody. My own, personal, full band orchestra…” He groaned softly, dipping his chin down to kiss your neck more hungrily now.
You squeezed your eyes shut, chest heaving as his sloppy kisses ignited the fire between your thighs. “I would do anything to hear it again, Y/N; whatever you want, it’s yours; I just need to hear your moans from these perfect lips.” He gently reached a hand up to squeeze your chin ever so softly before pressing a hungry kiss into your lips.
You tried to stifle your moans still; it almost embarrassed you even though Bruce was here begging you for it. You and Bruce had only ever made out until last night, so the sounds and movements that accompanied the new pleasures that Bruce sent through your body still felt foreign. “Bruce,” you whispered, pushing against his chest slightly. “I-I want you…”
His eyes darkened slightly at your words and the hand that was tracing your thigh made quick work towards your folds. “W-Wait!” You quickly said, stopping his fingers at your pubic bone, just above your clit.
“What is it, baby?” Bruce whispered, gently brushing his hand through your hair. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know you won’t, and you didn’t last night, either,” you reassure as a blush crept over your cheeks again. “It’s just that, I’m sore…”
Bruce couldn’t stop the prideful smirk that crossed his face. He moved his fingers slower now, gently pushing the tip of his middle finger through your glistening folds to find your clit first. “I can help with that, love,” he whispered, starting to reposition your bodies carefully. You gulped as you laid fully on your back now and Bruce hovered himself down your body, tossing the covers onto the floor.
He lined a trail of sloppy kisses from your neck, across your breasts, over your stomach before stopping just before your folds. He gulped as he stared at your pussy that was aching for (and because of) him, licking his lips as he looked up at you through his eyelashes and placed a soft kiss over your plump lips.
Your lips parted as a soft gasp escaped and the smallest moan echoed from your throat. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut at the sound as he slowly pushed his tongue to part your folds. “So beautiful,” he whispered, using one hand to kept your lips parted while the other gently raises your thighs over his thighs. He keeps his eyes on you as he laps his tongue against you harder and more direct now, just barely grazing over your entrance as his nose tickles against your clit.
He gently uses one finger to rub circles around your clit while slowly pushing his tongue into you, feeling your gummy walls clench around his intrusion. “Woah,” you moan, raising your hips to the feeling; he smirked against you as he gently fucked his tongue into you.
He worked slowly, switching between gently sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you. He watched you slowly let go, as your chest heaved harder and more moans escaped from your mouth. “I’m going to finger you now, baby,” he mumbled against your clit. “Is that okay?”
You reached your hands down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Y-yu—” a strangled moan left your lips as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Y-Yes!” He chuckled softly as he gathered your juices on his middle finger before gently pushing the digit into you.
“Your so tight, my love,” he whispered as he craned his neck slightly to see your face as he started to pump his middle finger in and out of you. “Such a beautiful sight…” he moaned, watching your eyes flutter shut. He reached his free hand up to grope your breast lightly, teasing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
After earning another soft moan from you, he gently slipped a second finger into you and continued to pump at the same speed. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered as he took your hand and set it on your breast to replace his. He watched happily as your instinctively started to grope yourself and play with your nipple, moaning at the feeling of your own hands. He moaned softly, pushing his lips against your clit again as slipped a third finger in.
“Want you, Bru—” you cut yourself off with a breathy moan as his three fingers curled inside you. He moaned against your clit, lapping happily as you tightened around him.
“Are you going to cum, beautiful?” He mumbled against you, speeding his fingers up. You felt the coil in your stomach stretch at his words, barely noticing that was what that feeling meant. You nodded your head eagerly, your back arching slightly as it started to wash through you.
“F-Faster, please,” you cried out. Bruce quickly complied, pumping his fingers faster as your tightening walls tried to push him out; he latched his lips around your clit, adding another layer of pleasure as your coil snapped and your legs shook against his shoulders.
Bruce lapped at the extra juices from your orgasm, pulling his fingers out and using the slick to gently pump his very erect and uncomfortable cock a few times. “Think you can take me again?” He whispered as he crawled upwards so his face was hovering over yours.
“Please,” you whispered, still breathing heavily from your orgasm. “I want you inside of me.” He groaned softly at your words and stared into your eyes as he ran his tip through your folds, nudging it against your clit. “B-Bruce,” you voiced somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
He smiled at you as he gently pushed his tip into your entrance, slowly allowing another centimeter in with each of your heavy breaths. “You are – fuck – you are doing so good, love,” he praised, watching you blink rapidly as you attempted to stay relaxed and not clamp down on him. “That’s it, baby,” he reassured, grunting slightly as your walls squeeze around him, already milking his cock. “Hard parts almost over.”
Both of you let out nearly pornographic moans as he bottoms out inside of you, his face buried into your neck as you cling to his shoulders. “I feel like a fucking king inside of you,” he whispers into your ear, kissing your shoulder softly as he rolls his hips against you softly, helping you adjust to his size.
The moan he earns from the action could have sent him into madness, but he remained controlled as he started to gently rock his hips against you. He moved to watch your face as the moans escaped your lips, his dick hitting spots inside of you that re-defined everything you learned durin sex-ed in school. “That’s right, ma, sing for me,” Bruce moaned as he pulled nearly all the way out and slowly rocked back in.
He didn’t need to move fast or get any extra friction to get that feeling of his own high approaching already; the way your walls clamped around him and the heavenly sounds you were making underneath him were enough for that.
“B-Bruce!” You cried out as that familiar coil returned fast and hard. He reached his hand down between your bodies and started to feverishly rub your clit while his hips remained slow and controlled, thrusting deep and hard enough that you were nearly overwhelmed. “I-I think I’m cumming,” you moaned loudly, ignoring your immediate embarrassment from the lewd sounds that left your lips as you felt that pleasure wash across your entire body, making your toes curl.
“Fuck,” Bruce groaned, his hips stuttering. He had fully intended to get at least 3 more orgasms out of you like this but hearing you moan his name was hard to ignore.
“You feel so good stretching me out like this,” you moaned into his ear, not thinking about the consequences your actions would have on Bruce’s composure. He moaned loudly as he buried his face back into your neck and released his warm seed inside you, keeping his hips pressed against yours as he twitched against your walls.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled into your skin. “You are fucking amazing.” You giggled softly, whining as he pulled out of you. “Shh, my love,” he whispered as he rolled onto his side and pulled your back against his chest. He reached down and grunted as he pushed himself back into your cunt. “Feels so good, just want to stay here for a bit…” He reassures as you moan softly at the feeling of fullness again.
“I love you,” you whisper before yawning and nuzzling yourself backwards against him, earning a groan into your ear.
“I love you, so much,” he replies with a lazy kiss to your temple. You both fall back into a peaceful slumber thinking of how many mornings you’ll get to spend with his thick cock buried to the hilt inside of you.
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majahu · 2 years
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To Die on Your Lips
Chapter 1: Late Night Outbursts
Next Chapter
Robert Pattinson Batman x Gn Reader (angst, slow burn)
Note: This fic was just supposed to be a one shot but I got carried away so now it’s a full story lmao. Trying to use gender neutral language on this one. Let me know if I slip up. Comment or message to be added to the tag list.
Summary: With Bruce Wayne’s attention anywhere but Wayne Enterprises, Alfred makes the decision to hire outside help managing the company. After a while, you begin to share the butler’s frustrations with the company’s heir, the two of you constantly butting heads during working hours. Soon, however, your feelings towards your boss begin to change as you start to unravel one of his best kept secrets.
Warnings: angst, lots of yelling, graphic language, suggestive content (wink, wink) in later chapters. Minors DNI.
Word Count: 1.3k
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  You had been working for Wayne Enterprises for the better half of a year, doing everything from book-keeping to meeting with potential and current investors and not once had you received any kind of help from the company’s owner.
 You rarely saw Bruce Wayne except for the rare occasions where he was dragged to a mandatory meeting with the company’s board. Your interactions with him were mostly countless unanswered messages that you left on his work phone, asking for clarification regarding various paperwork, transfers of funds, etcetera.
 Mostly, your communication to your boss was through Alfred Pennyworth, his butler, who you bet did more for the company than Bruce Wayne ever did. It wasn’t fair that he was the face of this whole company, when it seemed like he’d rather be doing anything other than his fucking job. 
You were currently at your desk, your office being located at the very top of Wayne Tower (which was a pain in the ass when the elevator was being serviced; at least all the stairs gave you some pretty killer calves). One hand rested in your hair, while the other clutched a mug of drip coffee; it was your third of the night and you had hoped that it would help you stay awake long enough to go over the book-keeping you needed to, but all it had managed to do was give you a massive stomach ache. The glare of street lights barely reached your office window, and illuminated by the light of a single desk lamp, the majority of your office was bathed in shadows. 
Wayne Enterprises had several branches, and though they all had their own team of accountants and managers, you were entrusted with giving everything a final look-over to make sure that nothing was amiss. With so many employees and branches, it would be relatively easy for someone to embezzle a couple hundred dollars, thousands even, without being noticed. It could easily get lost in piles of paperwork had it not been for your or Alfred’s tireless efforts. 
 “Thank god I’m getting paid overtime for this,” you sighed, eyes grazing over lists of charges  from the past month from Wayne Electronics. There were, of course, deposits of investments that you easily recognized; the withdrawals were the tricky part. Most of them had clear names, some money even being transferred to various branches like Wayne Tech, others, the ones that you didn’t recognize, you scrawled down in a small leather bound notebook to bring up to Alfred or try to decipher on your own.
 The numbers on the page started drifting slightly to the left as your eyes came in and out of focus. 
 God, you were tired. 
 You had been at work since 8:00 AM and it was currently—you checked your watch—9:47 PM. 
 Your eyes fluttered closed, and you had nearly drifted to sleep when you thought you heard your office door creak open. 
 “I’m really starting to lose it,” you muttered to yourself, eyes warily scanning the dark corners of your office. 
 Sure enough, your door was closed. You turned back around only to come face to face with a shadowy figure standing at the front of your desk.
 “Jesus, fuck!” You shouted, nearly falling backwards in your swivel chair. 
 “What are you still doing here?” the figure said, voice strained like he hadn’t talked to anyone in a while. 
You blinked a couple times, eyes coming into focus, and sure enough there was the face of your boss, dimly illuminated by the lamplight of your desk.
 “Mr. Wayne?”
 You said, tilting your head to the side, “What are you doing here?”
 As your eyes further adjusted to the man standing in front of you, you noticed what looked like some intense dark circles under his eyes. “Maybe you should go back home and get some sleep…” you muttered, not really meaning to speak the words aloud.
 “What?” he said, the beginnings of a sneer on his lips. He seemed more annoyed by your presence in your own office than you would’ve expected him to be, especially since you were working overtime to help make sure his company was staying afloat.
 “Look, is there something I can help you with?” you said, bitterness creeping into your tone. It’s not that you meant to give your boss attitude, but you had had a long day, you were tired, and you wanted more than anything to be back in your apartment under the covers of your bed. 
 He paused for a moment, opening his mouth as if to say something before looking away from you, “No, it’s nothing. I noticed a light was on and I came to check and see if everything was okay.”
 You said nothing, staring blankly back at him.
 “You can go,” he said.
 Your annoyance at your boss was starting to bubble over, a long rant about responsibilities and leadership pulling at the corners of your mouth. You were so so tired, and you probably shouldn’t provoke one of Gotham’s most powerful men, but before you could stop yourself the words were flowing out of your mouth, 
 “You came to see if everything was okay?” you scoffed, “since when do you ever do anything for this company?”
 The man stared at you, brows knitting together slightly, his expression hardening. 
 Gripping the arms of your chair, your knuckles began to turn white as you leaned forward in your seat, “I have been working myself to the bone, coming in early, staying late, all to make sure nobody is taking advantage of how fucking disorganized this company is. You only ever come to meetings when Alfred drags you there like you’re some spoiled little brat, and even then you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. You could at least try to care! Or put nearly half the work in that your employees do, who, by the way, make a fucking fraction of your annual salary when they’re the ones carrying this place!”
 You were shouting now, and only when you noticed the expression on Bruce Wayne’s face did you shut your mouth, wishing you could retreat into the cushions of your chair.
 What did I just do?
 You had just lost your cool; majorly, by the way, in front of your boss. You were almost positive you were going to be fired for this.
 Bruce Wayne looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, or wrap his hands around your throat, or spontaneously combust. You weren’t sure what was about to happen, all you knew is that it wasn’t going to be pretty.
 He placed his hands on your desk, thumb covering the corner of your notebook. He opened his mouth, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. He leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours as you fought the urge to shrink away from him, “do you think I chose this?”
 “I never wanted to run this company,” he said, “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he tore his eyes away from you, casting them to look out of your window, studying the Gotham skyline, “do you know how hard it is to live up to his legacy?” he said quietly. 
 “Mr. Wayne I-” 
 “Don’t speak.” he said, pausing for a moment.
 “Every time I set foot in this place, I am reminded of what I’m not.” 
 “And I don’t need you, someone who I hired not even a year ago, to remind me even more of it or to pretend you know me and what I do for this company, for this city.” He said, his tone venomous. 
 Bruce Wayne looked back at you, his eyes narrowing, “Do you really think you’re such an invaluable piece of this company? That you can’t be replaced? You have no idea what goes on behind the scenes.” 
 He looked as if he wanted to say something more, like he was holding back. 
 Instead, his eyes studied you for a moment longer before tearing away from you again, “Get out.” 
 Not daring to say anything more, you stood, not even grabbing your notebook, and walked out the office door.
--
Tag List: @lesyeuxdebritty @rat-theghoul @withbeautyandrage
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thepaintedlady00 · 8 months
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Alright everyone! Update time 😂 I'm sick so I haven't been getting as much writing done as I'd like, but I am working on Nightshade Chapter 22. I do, however, have a question for y'all.
There are still like 30 or more chapters of Nightshade, but I'm really itching to write more just because I know a lot of y'all have been waiting for some of the other series to drop for a while and I don't wanna get burnt out of Nightshade content/inspiration. So I've been thinking that after Chapter 22 of Nightshade I'll take a bit of a break to post a few chapters of the Resident Evil fic as well as The Batman fic.
Obviously I'll give y'all a voice here so I know if the majority of you just want me to focus solely on Nightshade or if everyone's kinda wanting a bit more content. 😊
As always thank you all so much!
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nyeddleblog · 6 months
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After a lot of time, I finally came back AND I'M TAKING REQUESTS!
I write for:
Actors (Just message me and I'll check if I know them enough to write for them)
Marvel (Loki, Peter Parker, Moon Knight, etc)
Criminal Minds
DC
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the-wintershade · 1 year
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withdrawals from imagined things | pattinson!batman 
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series: staring into the echo | 1 | 2 | 3 pairing: pattinson!batman x reader  summary: bruce is supposed to be your partner. But now there's someone else. And now, every affection you've ever had dissolves in front of your eyes. That is, until Bruce has something to say about it.  wc: 2.3k+  genre: angsty, reader has doubts about feelings, sad, but has a happy ending (in part 3 <3)  a/n: know your worth people. know your worth.
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There were many times you and Bruce narrowly escaped battles. Many times having all your limbs and a working heartbeat was a miracle. 
None of those times included Bruce staring at another woman. Such transfixed care and concern in his eyes.
Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered you. Partners didn’t typically care if their partners had other people in their lives.
But you and Bruce worked together often. Like any good professionals, you made a good team. You cared about each other, looked out for each other, and protected each other. 
You had come to depend on him. Seeing him with someone else sent a warning through your head, sent an ache through your heart. 
Bruce was starting to slip away from you. It’s as if now he drifts somewhere out of your reach, even though in a few steps you could be standing right next to him. You don’t understand what was happening between him and that woman, but you know it has nothing to do with you. It will never have anything to do with you.
A wall that you didn’t see before now appeared between you two. It wasn’t a wall you knew was there either. You didn’t come to realize the depth of your affection for Bruce until now. Until it was already too late.
Your hand itches. Only minutes ago, your clawed your way out of the debris of the collapsed building you and Bruce were in. You reach up to flick pieces of brick off your face.
You can’t help but compare it to how images of you and Bruce. Light scoffs and tenderly sealing up wounds after missions. Warm smiles. Hesitant touches on arms and hands. Breaths stopping and restarting, either from laughing or proximity. 
All of it dissolves in the grey sunlight. 
You know there wouldn’t be more moments like those. The realization coils around your chest, your throat, your tongue. Hot. Unyielding.
Saying anything to Bruce would just make everything worse. You aren’t sure you’d be able to say anything at all. Your feelings of betrayal hang heavy on your face. It pools around your eyes. It distorts your vision. 
You understand it now. It’s not that you’re partners. It’s not that you felt something for him. You’re comfortable with him. You feel safe with him.
Felt. Felt safe. The instability in your core won’t let you feel that way now.
You turn your palms up and carefully fleck the tiny pieces of brick and dirt and pebbles off your hand. They leave small, deep impressions all over your skin; all are tiny reminders of barely making it out. It feels like a part of you had collapsed too. 
Lieutenant Gordon appears in front of you. So enraptured by your hand, you don’t notice two new police cars. A blur of crimson and cobalt washes the rising ashen dust in color.
Gordon’s voice is clear and focused. It’s nice to hear, to get some organization in the rambling starting in your brain. A visualization of Bruce and the red-haired woman laughing and bumping into each other flashes across your mind. You flinch.
“You alright, officer?” Gordon’s eyes work across your dirtied uniform and messy hair. You’re positive dust and cuts cover your cheeks.
You manage a nod and studiously avoid his gaze. Gordon would see right through you. Instead, you fixate your attention on another officer helping a man to an ambulance. 
You think you catch Bruce looking over at you out of the corner of your eye. It’s likely wishful thinking.
“Fine,” you sigh. “All the wounded are cleared. The building is one cough away from caving, but there should be some people working on it.”
You feel Gordon’s quizzical eyes on the side of your face. You blink, knowing you would have to look him in the eye before he would move on. He has to really see if you’re just as fine as you claim to be.
It’s endearing and frustrating how he knew your tone could say one thing but your eyes could say another.
You lick your lips and turn toward Gordon. “How is the inner city? Did our favorite villain get that far?”
It’s Gordon’s turn to look away, eyes scanning the scene briefly. “It went about as well as it could. The bastard’s fast. But the Riddler can’t run forever.” His eyes return to your face, a gently smug look on his face. “Only so many sewers to hide in.”
You chuckle and feel some of Gordon’s scrutiny waver. You finally look toward him. Bright splotches of dust and debris cling to his jacket. “Buildings fell near you too?” You mutter, reaching out to swipe some of the powder off his clothing. 
Gordon shrugs and sighs. A new smudge lingers where your fingers had been. You rub your hands across each other as he defeatedly answered. “Just one. Unlike you and the Bat here, we were a little late.”
A little late is code for casualties. Gordon’s jaw tenses and his eyes lose a bit of their sharp focus. He’s disappointed in himself. 
You knew isn’t his fault just like it isn’t the people’s fault either. They were victims of crime and chaos. Nobody could be everywhere at once. 
You’re used to checking in on each other, but this is one of the first times that Gordon vocalized his deeper thoughts. Sharing in sadness with your lieutenant was the last thing you were expecting. It makes you feel less alone, even if your melancholy came from different places.
You press your lips in a sympathetic line. “I’m sorry, Gordon.”
“Yeah,” his voice gravels. “There was a little boy this time.” He swallows and places shaky hands on his hips. “There won’t be a next time.”
You reach out to place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “No, there won’t.”
His smile tinges with sorrow but gratitude floats behind it. That’s good enough for you. You let your hand fall away.
Gordon’s gloomy slouch reminds you of your own. You spare another look toward Bruce. 
His eyes flutter over to yours. Then, he’s looking back at the beautiful, small woman in front of him. Before she could turn to see who Bruce was looking at, you duck and angle yourself toward Gordon.
A weak sigh blows through your nostrils. You hate feeling this way. 
Everything is tight and tense. Your words are becoming squeezed and painful. Talking is nearly out of the question. 
You need to do some quiet work, take a shower, and go to bed early. You don’t have the energy for much else.
You watch embers and soot float down in front of you. Gordon does the same. A comfortable silence of shared blues and dissociation stretches between you.
Gordon is the first to break it. “You going back with him?” 
You look at Gordon with unfocused eyes before you notice him tilting his head in Bruce’s direction. You couldn’t hide the bittersweet expression on your face even as you attempt a smirk. “Not today. Think I’m going to head to the station to write my statement. Maybe take a shower.”
Gordon nods and hums. His quiet response only further confirms that he senses something is up between his partner-in-justice and you. 
Normally, you and Bruce would leave together. You would trade information and conclusions, swap theories and leads to follow. Alfred would help too. Tea would be made, biscuits nibbled on, and when you were ready, you and Bruce would work on smoothing over cuts with bandages and emotions with comforting words.
Not tonight. Maybe no longer. You aren’t quite ready to process what that means. What that would do to you.
“Well,” Gordon muses, “take it easy. I’m having breakfast tomorrow at the diner just off of 26th if you want to stop by.” 
Your heart warms at his invitation. 
You know he invited you because he could tell something was wrong. Gordon always tries to support you. It felt nice that he wants to be there while you sort through it all. 
At the same time, you register that he might have asked because he wanted company too. He desires what you refuse to acknowledge right now. An opportunity to process what happened with someone who understood.
Smirking, you respond, “I might just take you up on that offer. See you soon, Gordon.”
You look over your shoulder once. 
You and Bruce lock eyes. You watch as he angles his body toward you. He starts to take a step in your direction. 
Then, you looked away. Walking to a squad car, you hail a ride back to the station.
Filing the papers is easy. Keeping your mind focused on the work instead of Bruce’s actions is not. 
Instead of the usual hour, it takes you nearly three hours to finish your report. Every so often your eyes would drift away, focusing on some random object. In the haze, you could replay the way Bruce leaned into the woman.
Woman. That’s how Bruce must have seen her. 
As a woman, as a beautiful, tough, and delicate person that should be cared for, should be loved. 
You’re just the partner. A person who helps sort out his life and nothing more. Sure, you two probably like each other’s company. Good partnerships require it. 
But that’s all. 
When you got home, you quickly got in the shower. While the water washes away the dirt, your mind is finally able to quiet for a few moments. You take your time washing your hair. The suds collect all over your hands and up your arms before you rinse them away. 
For a time, you’re able to start sorting through how what happened in that building. As you brush your teeth, you string together explanations for how the explosions were placed, why they denoted they did, and the chaos used to overshadow the governor’s press conference.
You couldn’t figure out why certain buildings were targeted the way they were. Hopefully, Gordon would have more information in the morning. 
You throw on your pajamas and exit the steam-filled room. The towel wrapped around your head sways as you walk to the fridge to eat something. Your limbs and brain are too tired to make anything, so you decide on some cubed cheese and already washed and separated grapes.
As you eat, you looked down at your hands, finding a few scrapes. 
A few weeks ago, Bruce cradled your hand so preciously as he had applied anointment and gently pressed a bandage against a deep cut. You just narrowly avoided a knife to the face, instead catching the blade with your hands and wrestling it out of your assailant’s grasp.
Bruce tensed the entire time you told him what happened. He looked almost furious but still, he managed to be so tender with you as he cleaned and patched your injuries. It made you feel cared for and seen in a way that you hadn’t in a long time. 
It made you think you actually deserved care. You could receive care from those who actually care about you. And somehow, they would want to volunteer this care without obligation. 
That’s what you used to think. Now you couldn’t be certain Bruce’s actions don’t come without a sense of obligation.
If you were gone, Bruce would have no one who would listen to him ramble on and on about what he thought. No one would be as careful as you were while you iced bruises and placed tape over stitches. He wouldn’t have a partner anymore. That was enough for anyone to feel obligated to keep their partners safe.
The dull scar on your palm glints in the kitchen light you left on. It’s the only light on in the room.
You sigh. Even the darkness reminded you of him. 
You want to stop thinking about it all, about how your heart hurt, about how the cheese and grapes don’t taste like anything because the grief over a relationship you realized you don’t have made it taste like flavorless mush, about how the disappointment was conjuring tears to your eyes.
You need it to stop. It’s all becoming too much.
After only two handfuls of cheese and three of the grapes, you place their respective bowls back into the fridge and walk to your room, keeping the lights off. 
The click of the fridge closing mixed with the click of your bedside lamp switch. This would be the only light you’d leave on. You have to. The darkness would just bring back things you don’t want to think about.
As you burrow under your bed covers, you turn on your tv to let its mindless drawl keep you from retreating too far into your memories of Bruce. 
The recollections of patch-up jobs start to take on a different color now. Instead of the soft warm hues you remember in them, they’re fizzling into deep grays and sharp whites. It’s like your brain is removing your emotional connection to them. Dulling them to protect yourself.
It isn’t working. The gold is always still there, still lingering behind the silvery clouds, fighting through their clumps in strands of warm light.
You give up, smothering your head with a pillow and adjusting till you faced your window with city lights peeking through the blinds. If you can’t get your little flicker of hope that you’re wrong about your new perspective on Bruce to go away, maybe you could distract yourself enough to go to sleep.
And you did. You watched cars peel up and down the now rain-covered streets. People huddle under umbrellas or streak through the rain. 
It’s numbing. Your eyes unfocus and droop close. Just before sleep gives you relief from thoughts about Bruce, a white circle appears in the sky. 
You try to close your eyes and ignore it; it will only give your brain more fuel to run on. 
But you know what the circle is as quickly as your subconscious does. The bat signal colors the back of your eyelids. You scrunch your eyes firmly closed and work to count sheep to finally get to sleep.
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qsphyxias · 2 years
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[breaking news] gotham stroll turns into gay angst
if you fetishize mlm relationships, get the fuck out of here!
synopsis ; (physical) hurt/comfort, as reader gets attacked by riddler and batman has to save his concussed ass
warnings ; cussing, blood, concussions, violence, male (he/him) reader
note ; i wrote this so long ago i just wanted to finish the draft and pump it out as the last batman fic im gonna do probably? who knows? maybe another batman movie will come out and the brainrot will settle right back in
words ; 1.6k+
⊱ ────── {⋅.𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝.⋅} ────── ⊰
The walk to the crime scene was quiet, surprisingly. One quiet night in Gotham City, the shittiest shithole of hell. But however stupid it was, you felt the want to actually enjoy the moment, instead of feeling en guard that nothing was going on.
Regretfully, that might've been an awful decision on your part.
Batman had suggested you go with him, but you were held back at the Manor due to wanting to finish analyzing new tech and weaponry. "Don't worry! I've been meaning to get a walk in the city of good ol' Gotham." You said half-sarcastically, eyes glued to the screen in front of you as Bruce glared searing holes into the back of your head.
"S/o..." He began, but before he could finish, you raised a hand behind you, "I know, I know, I'll be careful. Stop vexing me and go, Gordon needs you." With a grimace, he left as told.
Now here you were, head resting against the side of a stinking, rusty dumpster. The riddler, who had caught you off guard with an ice scraper, hovering over you. At least, you assumed it was the riddler, based on the greenish blob that you could barely make out, and the... weapon in his hand?
With a slight spike in heart rate, the fear-fuelled adrenaline took over as you decided not to take the chance of guessing whether it was a weapon or not. You shook your head, bringing yourself up but gasping as you realized you only made the riddler's job easier, as he was now eye-level with you and perfect height to strangle the life out of you.
'Shit, shit shit!' Your inconvenient position against the brick wall had been inconvenient at first but, as you know, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. The brick wall worked as a ramp as you jumped up against it and used your feet to launch yourself at the riddler, hands outstretched to grab the cloth in his hand to take it and incapacitate him with it.
However, riddler landed awkwardly, and that caused your hand to slip and crash against the wet concrete. Was it raining? That didn't matter, your wrist was fucking broken.
The adrenaline crash, the cold, and the concussion seemed to intensify and team up against you to give you the worst physical beating in the world. "Fuck, b- batman! Help! Someone… help!" It was the lowest of the low—at least in your opinion—begging for help like this. You could practically feel the vibrations of the riddler's chilling laugh run up your spine.
As if a miracle could help you.
But just as all was lost, just as you saw riddler through sticky eyelashes with his cloth in his hand ready to break your neck, it stopped raining, and… seemed to get dark. You hadn't known the time, but it's highly unusual for the sky to just crash to darkness all of a sudden, so… What was it?
You look up.
And there he was, pale blue eyes surrounded in black paint glaring back down at you. It was like a scene out of a movie; his cape blowing in the wind, his body twisting in slow-motion to give the riddler a nasty right hook before turning back to you with hidden worry in his eyes. Maybe it was the concussion talking, but you could've sworn he hesitated before the attack when he saw you.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the concussion talking, as he really had hesitated, leading the riddler to escape and splash away in the rain. The riddler may be dumb enough to anger Batman, the dark knight, but he knew he was efficiently ineffective for a winning chance against Bruce.
Plus, he had plans before getting pummelled by him.
Left disorientated, bruce was unsure as he leaned down to check on you, trying to tap into Alfred's radio. "Fuck,"
He didn't know what to do.
For the first time, in his extremely repetitive life, he didn't know what to do. Had you asked him a long time ago before he met you,—and not just met, actually knew and seen you—he would've chosen to go after riddler without a second thought. Leaving you there with a police called to your area.
Now… now he's not so sure. Sensing his silence and hesitation, you called out his name out of panic. "Batman? What are you doing, you- go chase after him!" You blinked the burning rain out of your eyes, wincing as you tried to get up, breath hitching as batman presses his hand against your chest and pushes you back down gently. Your voice had traces of anger, at him and at yourself.
God knows what you've done, if Bruce can't save Gotham because of you, you would never forgive yourself. Worst of all, you knew he would never forgive himself either.
"Fuck." You breathed out exasperatedly, a small laugh leaving you. "I'm sorry, Bruce. Fuck, I- I'm so sorry." You hiccuped, throat burning. Out of all the years of knowing him, you had never seen him hesitate this bad. Behind his massive shoulders, you could still see riddler's boots stomping away, before he disappeared fully into the fog. Yet he didn't move a muscle to see where he was going, nor did he ask.
You were so stupid, just listen to him next time goddamn it. You loved him, you loved his attention, but you didn't want to be a burden on him like this!
"I'm s-" He cut you off, courtly. "It's fine. He'll come back." Despite how strange it was, Bruce made his attempts at calming you down without even realizing it himself. "We need to go, you... have a concussion." You gulped down the apologies, nodded, grimacing internally at yourself at how submissive you were under his direct order.
——————
The drive back to the Manor was even quieter than the walk to the investigation. You frowned as the thought of that dreaded walk popped up in your mind. Deciding to break the tense atmosphere and think about something else, you perked up as you finally thought of an un-clichéd beneficial conversation topic. "So- How was the investiga-" As always, he interrupted.
"Is your wrist broken? I noticed you needed some help getting into the car." The eyes that had been earlier glued to the tops of his cowl, dropped to your hand that had been forming an ugly shade of purple and blue.
"It hurts less if I don't talk about it, haha." You joked, looking over at Bruce, just to met with a stoic face. "No, no, hold the applause." You rolled your eyes, your hand gestures following your sarcasm-laced words.
“You know..." you started again, already seeing Bruce's arms visibly tense up at your tone of voice. "I thought you were the type to look at the big picture instead of the…” you laughed as you gestured to yourself, a little lost as to where your short speech was going. “little details?”
Despite your efforts to tease him, Bruce remains visibly upset. “I wouldn't go so far as call you a 'little detail.'” he gruffly responded, almost saddened by how unnerved you were from nearly becoming one of riddler's next 'riddle'. His jaw clenched at the thought, and you smiled at the edgy sentiment.
“Don’t worry, the riddler will get what he deserves eventually.” You reached up to rest your unbroken hand on his armoured shoulder.
“I know he will.” You looked at him with a reassuring smile, as reassuring as you could with your bruised face. "I believe in you, Bruce. Always have, always will."
He paused, greased eyes shifting over to you for a split second in search of sincerity within your expression. Once he found it, his heart beat a little faster, and his hands around the wheel tightened.
"You have a concussion." He grunted, looking the way opposite to your direction, pretending to look at the side view mirror. You grinned at his reaction, before retiring back into your seat. "That, I do." You sighed blissfully as you let your head fall back against the head rest, relaxing as if your wrist wasn't broken and that you couldn't feel blood trailing down the back of your head.
"Are you alright? Back there, you were apologizing." He stated, glancing over at you for a split second to make sure you weren't sleeping.
You were.
In a panic, he reached over to shake your shoulder, half-driving and half-panic-shaking you. "S/o!" His voice boomed, the car swerved you awake. "Wha- huh?" you snorted, blinking awake, as if you didn't nearly make Bruce crash the goddamn car into a building.
"Stay awake, talk to me." He huffed, ordering you with a tone he knew you usually listen to. "Oh, yeah, you asked me a question; what was it?" You asked, somewhat groggy.
"You were apologizing earlier, I want to know why." He repeated, a little tense from your scare. He could see your mouth open and close like a gaping fish, and before you could start, he spoke again, "And don't say it's because riddler got away, and you think it's your fault; it isn't. And I know it's not just that."
Again, you weren't sure if it was the concussion talking, but you feel like he doesn't normally talk this fast. Was he nervous? That doesn't seem likely. "Why did you… sound like that?" he sounded unsure; at himself, his own words, and you.
"I would tell you, but you'd just tell me that I have a concussion." You rolled your eyes.
"S/o, stop shitting around." It was clear, he was desperate for a response. It showed in his eager tone of voice. You were quiet for a moment, trying to get your empty thoughts together and organized.
"I don't know, really. I love you, I guess." You shrugged, slouching in your seat as if you hadn't just confessed to the billionaire of Gotham City.
The car screeched to a stop, launching both of you forward. Bruce slowly turned his head over to look at you, shock decorating his sharp yet soft features. "What did you just say?"
⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰
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imagine--if · 2 years
Note
Headcanon request for Bruce when you’re sick?
A/N: Okay but protective batboy x10000 here 🖤🦇
Pairing: Battinson x reader (The Batman 2022)
Warnings: Overprotective loving Bruce Wayne 😍
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•♡ It really doesn’t matter how I’ll you are or how bad you’re feeling; just a cold or a headache, a massive fever, threw up a few times?? One sneeze and there’s literally an ambulance on standby parked outside Wayne Manor. No joke.
•♡ Bruce is just terrified of the idea of one of the only people left in Gotham that he loves getting hurt or sick in any way. Obviously, everyone gets sick now and then, but when it’s you??? His mind’s going don’t panic don’t panic don’t-
•♡ It’s not like he’s unprepared though!! Bruce being The Batman means he has plenty of first aid equipment and a patient Alfred to help stitch him up and get medicines, and he’s more than happy to help you too. Bruce kind of prefers doing it himself and being around you 24/7 to make sure you’re doing okay and are in as little pain as possible.
•♡ Bruce Wayne is an incredibly doting and gentle partner with you in general, so he’ll be just as tender when he’s making sure you’re resting and have, like, the whole week off work with one word from him to your boss. It’s not like you’re gonna struggle finically-
•♡ He’s 100% the type who’s willing to run down to the nearest shop for a specific food or drink that you want but he doesn’t have. Hardly anyone will notice him being Bruce Wayne because of his black hoodie pulled right up over his face and keeping himself to himself and all.
•♡ His voice is so smooth and soft if you want him to read to you or something, or Bruce will lay down with you in a comfortable silence and only break it every few minutes to ask if you’re okay and stuff.
•♡ Not totally related, but he also asks what you’re thinking a lot. Like, what’s on your mind, why are you looking at something like that?? Not at all in a demanding or confused way but more in pure wonder of who you are and wanting to understand you as much as he can because he’s lovestruck 🥺
•♡ Basically, being ill has its many advantages with Bruce because he drops everything to be around you and watches any friend who tries to visit or something so closely, standing near where you are protectively like they’re gonna throw a grenade at you or something 😂
•♡ But in his mind, can you blame him?! He has to be protective!! The love of his life is at their most vulnerable point right now and it’s his job to make up for it 😤
•♡ If being too close and affectionate makes him sick afterwards (it usually does, Bruce likes cuddles 🙃) then you’ll be able to take care of him and Alfred helps out with the typical cycle, it’s very domestic and cute 💕
•♡ Bruce Wayne 10/10 makes being sick worth it.
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ladyelissarose · 2 years
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“The Secrets of Gotham-Unmasked” Part 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10 + pt.2
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13 +pt.2
Chapter 14
Chapter 15 +pt.2
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18 + pt.2
Chapter 19
Chapter 20 +pt.2
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23 +pt.2
Chapter 24
Chapter 25 +pt.2
Chapter 26
Chapter 27 +pt.2
Chapter 28
Chapter 29 + pt.2
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
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