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deadricslover · 2 years

Note

I'm super new to your blog and you write incredibly !!! Your bruce wayne fics are by far my favorite. Im not sure if your requests are open, but if they are, could I request suitors trying to get with reader thinking they have a chance with her, not knowing shes married to bruce and he gets jealous? i think it would be interesting seeing that dynamic! if you dont want to take this request it's absolutely no problem, wishing you a happy day! <3

the jealous type

here's my Masterlist!

I'm so bad at coming up with names💀

a/n: my god, you're so nice ilysm <3. But yes! I would love to write that, it's a great idea:) also, You didn't specify which actor so I'll try make it as neutral as possible. I hope you like it but personally I feel like I could have done better:/ MY REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN <3 unless I say they're not 😭💀wishing you a happy day life too😘

summary: ^^^ in the request

warnings: not proofread! strong language, some cringe 'flirting' even after the reader saying no, nonconsensual touching of the reader/tw SA, mentions of alcohol, petnames. please tell me if I missed anything!

pairings: fem!reader X actor neutral!Bruce Wayne

wow I hate people like these strangers. who doesn't?

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Overlapping talk and loud music floods your ears to the point that you can't focus your senses on any sound in particular; it's absolutely overwhelming, but in an exhilarating, euphoric way. You hadn't felt like this in a long time, and you'd been missing this rush of pure adrenaline and joy.

You got a call from your old college girl friends a few hours ago, asking if you and Bruce wanted to go out because you hadn't seen each other in what seems like an eternity. You were worried because Bruce had lately been on patrol as Batman so goddamn much and you hadn't spent a night with him in weeks, but once you told your spouse about the plan, he was immediately on board. Showering, changing, and getting dressed took neither of you long, and you were both out of the house and in the car in under an hour.

Once the car is parked, you exit the vehicle and proceed into the bar, grabbing Bruce's hand. Your engagement and marriage rings shimmer and sparkle in the changing colorful lights of the club crowded with people celebrating 21st birthdays and getting the Friday night buzz as you stroll inside. Before you can locate your friends, their voices reach your ears, so you follow the familiar voices and giggles until you find who you're looking for. One of your friends notices you and is immediately all over you.

"I haven't seen you in ages!" She exclaims as she squeezes you into a bone-crushing hug, which you gratefully accept and reciprocate. "You did extremely well with the Mr., didn't you?" When she mentions your husband, she returns her gaze to Bruce, as you do as well. He's smiling and running his hands through his hair as he introduces himself to your pals, instantly making them like him due to his attractive demeanor. You basically drool over him even just at his sight, still after this long being Mrs. Wayne.

"oh, you have no idea" you reply smiling with your eyebrows raised.

You quickly say hi to the rest of the group with Bruce's hand around your waist and begin to catch up on events from the previous few years. Bruce learns some embarrassing anecdotes about you being drunk in college that he will never let you live down.

"Just guess where we found her," another acquaintance, who was your old roommate, says

"The last place I'd think?" he speculates, slightly side eyeing you in a curious manner as to what the answer might be.

"just that. We came home to find her fully dressed and passed out in the empty bath." She remembers laughing her head off at the memories, and you remember laughing with her because it was such a hilarious story.

Before he lets out a breath and asks, giggling lightly, "why were you in the bath?!" he has a puzzled yet delighted expression on his face.

"Hey, I'm the wrong person to ask, I was pissed," you remark, removing a finger from your drink to point at him to add drama to the situation.

"Who's up for another round?" When your ex-roommate's boyfriend notices that most of our glasses are empty, he questions the group. You all agree to the request, and volunteer to order them because you hadn't done so yet, and your legs were in desperate need of a stretch after standing in one position all night.

You collect the empty glasses off a few people ending with Bruce's who was standing next to you.

"thanks, my love. do you need some help?" he asks placing a little kiss into your hair to which you decline and depart to your destination. You order the round and sit on a stool waiting patiently trying not to stratch off the baby blue nail polish you had applied days before. Instead you fiddle with the cool metal of the ring on your ring finger, twisting it round and round waiting.

"Can I buy your drink?" a stranger asks you drawing you out of your daydream.

"No, thank you. I'm getting my friends drinks" you reply trying to be as kind as possible

"oh, come on. Surely you would let me if I rated you out of ten" he suggests. That's an even bigger no, thank you very much.

"like I said it's ok, I don't want you to buy my drink" you say slightly less kind turning slightly away towards the wood surface Infront of you.

"hmm. You get a nine out of 10 from me" After a brief period of thought, he says. Why is he still in this place? also, why nine? You continue to ignore his remarks and stare at the enormous array of bottles containing alcoholic beverages that will give many people headaches and hangovers the next day.

"...because I'm the one you need" ......wow.... so lame. he's really getting on your nerves now.

"come on ,baby, just one drink I promise you will want more aft-" you cut him off

"I'm taken, but it shouldn't matter. I said no."

"stubborn. I like that in a female...why don't I just..." his hand starts to crawl up your thigh and your heart starts to race, before you get to push it away a comforting presence makes their way to your side.

"hey, darling. Everything ok?" he asks 'innocently' and 'not knowing what's going on'. grateful he came over when he did you look at the man in front of you and say

"yeah. everything's fine, Bruce" you lie smiling, wrapping your hands around his forearm swiveling back around to the bar as the stranger walks away.

"everything wasn't ok, was it?" he enquires concerned.

"he's just trying to get in my pants, that's all. No big deal." you reply shaking it off. Bruce doesn't seem to be convinced that it's all ok so he states with slightly sad and concerned eyes

"it is a big deal, petal."

"it would be, but nothing happened" you reply to which he doesn't seem convinced but goes with it anyways. He tried to propose the idea of him going over but you shut the idea down.

When the drinks are ready, you thank the bartender and grab them and return to the gathering, with Bruce keeping a careful eye on you. You two swiftly distribute them and get back into the spirit. The chatter continues, and people soon find themselves having to get into each other's ears to say something because the volume of music and chatter is so high. Bruce turns to you and says something into your ear but speaks louder than normal so you can hear him.

"I'm gonna to the bathroom. I'll be back in a second, you sure you will be ok?" you loved that he was concerned but there was no need to be.

"of course I will. there's loads of people around" you assure with a smile and he promises you he won't be two minutes. The second Bruce departed your friends go to the dance floor and tell you if anything happens to go straight to them and yet again you assure them you will be ok.

soon after, the same thing happens and a guy stands next to you with a drink in hand and starts trying to chat you up. You thought it would be something gross like the last guy but he seemed genuine about what he was saying.

"I really like your dress"

"uhm..thank you." you reply uncomfortable Im the situation

"oh my days. I'm sorry that sounded awful, uhm I didn't mean it like that. I have a girlfriend...and I just wanted to ask where you got it. She has been wanting a dress like this and her birthday is soon." He seemed really sweet but you didn't trust him straight away. you told him where you purchased your outfit and he reveals his plans of proposing too soon into the conversation. You are confused as to why he is sharing this information to a total stranger but your glad he trusts you?

"Actually... as I'm over here. My friend over there thought you were were as he said ' a fine piece of ass' and wanted to talk to you." he says as the other guy starts walking over. There goes your liking for the stranger.

"hey, doll. wanna dance?"

"no" you reply dryly

"come on one dance." he insists

"I said no."

"fine. we can take it slow if that's what you want." he adds a wink to the end of the sentence making it even more revolting to you.

"what's a fine lady like you doing here all alone anyways?"

"waiting for her husband" you reply

"ahh that's one of those schemes that girls use to make guys try harder, right?" he asks completely wrong also.

"what scheme?"

"you know. girl code or something" either he is pissed of his game from alcohol or you're missing something about being a girl but you lean towards the first option because that's more reasonable.

"yeah, I think you've got the wrong idea of what girl code is" Bruce says returning and placing his head on your shoulder and arms around your waist from behind. Him showing up is a weight lifted off your shoulders and he can sense this. he always arrives at the right time doesn't he?

"no I think it's right. the lady will confirm" stranger number three states confidently

"'the lady' has a name and would also much rather come back over to me --her husband-- and have a good time. okay? good." he says as he drags you away, ....anger? radiating off his form.

"I could have handled it." you state the truth.

"I don't doubt that. You're a strong woman" he compliments continuing to walk holding your hand.

"why are you mad then?" you ask innocently wanting the answer

"I'm not. He's just a douche"

then it clicks.

"Bruce... Are you jealous?!" you exclaim not believing it.

"why would I be jealous?" he asks glancing to you quickly, clearly lying but hiding it suspiciously well.

You knew why. he thought you would leave him for them. as if. Bruce is way better than them and he knows it but can't help the thought of loosing you flickering inside his brain. "I don't know. You're THE Bruce Wayne. I don't see why any woman would leave you for some sweaty shit face that hit on them at the club. Bruce, you're so much better and surely you can see that too, because I'm sure all the girls and guys here would leave their partners for you. But I wouldn't let that happen, I'd go full dad protective mode. That's how amazing you are and how much you mean to me. Id be a really shitty wife if I let them say all that to me, wouldn't I?" you needed to reassure him and you think you succeeded.

"That was so sappy and cute, and I loved it. But I'm not jealous." he replies

"that's what a jealous person would say" you state back which earns a look from him before an idea pops into his head.

"wanna go home?"

honestly he couldn't have said anything better right at this moment. That's all you wanted to do right now, go home and get into bed with Bruce and That's what you were going to do.

"mmhhmm yes that sounds good" you reply. getting out of here and alerting your friends about your departure. The ride home was quieter than the drive here and the air was thick. You knew why and it was because Bruce was jealous wheather he would admit it or not. He was. It didn't take long to get home and to get ready for bed so the next thing you knew you and Bruce were wrapped up in eachother's embrace drifting to sleep.

"have you calmed down?" you inquire hoping that his sleepy state would make him more vulnerable to the truth.

"there's nothing to calm down from" be says sleepily

"there is. You were jealous and got all protective, it was cute."

"stop" he says whining with his eyes closed

"only if you admit it." you toy with the hair on the back of his head making it hard for him to resist.

"fine, I was jealous but with good reason. I didn't want the possibility of another man stealing you from me. Because you're my everything, sweetheart" his little speech makes you radiate joy and love for him. As he drifts to sleep you continue to stare at his perfect features and take it all in as if it was the last time you were going to see him. He was so pretty and handsome; why he thought you would leave him for some bozo you meet at the club was beyond you but it would never happen so he had nothing to worry about, you were here in his arms and that's all that mattered to him right now. that's all that mattered to him ever. you and just you.

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keep the requests coming!

#dc #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne fluff #batman begins #bruce wayne x reader #christian bale #christian bale x reader #robert pattinson fluff #robert pattinson #battinson #the dark knight #the dark Knight rises #deadricslover

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soulofapatrick · 6 months

Text

I Like Your Mind - Edward Cullen x female reader

Summary: As soon as you meet Edward, you're both drawn to each other with an intensity you never expected

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

I step into the Cullen house, my heart racing in my chest, and my mind filled with a mixture of fear and fascination. Bella has brought me here, introducing me to the family of her new boyfriend - Jasper Hale - and I can hardly believe where I find myself. I know their secret, the one they’ve been hiding from the world, the fact they’re vampires. And I know Edward can read minds which makes the whole situation even more daunting. But, as Bella races off to find Jasper, I’m left alone I the living room, taking in the stunning surroundings.

The Cullens’ house is unlike any place I’ve ever seen. The air is heavy with an unspoken history, and everything within is both timeless and modern. A grand piano rests against one wall, a dark mahogany masterpiece, and the soft notes of a melody linger in the air, a testament to the musical talents of the family. On the opposite wall, a massive bookshelf houses an impressive collection of novels and ancient texts. Their spines form a spectrum of human knowledge, artfully arranged.

My gaze drifts to the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the room, offering a breathtaking view of the dense, ancient forest that surrounds the house. The trees stand tall and proud, their branches intertwined like guardians, protecting the Cullens from prying eyes. The afternoon sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows that dance across the polished wooden floors.

As my eyes linger on the tranquil forest, my imagination takes flight. I envision myself running through the woods, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath my feet. The leaves would crunch softly with each step, and the intoxicating scent of pine and damp earth would fill my senses. My heart would race, and a rush of adrenaline would surge through me as I lose myself in the untamed beauty of the wilderness. But, what captivates me the most is the idea of running through the forest in the rain. The thought of raindrops falling like liquid diamonds from the heavens, pelting the leaves and creating a gentle, rhythmic melody, sends a shiver of delight down my spine. In my daydream, I am drenched, my clothes clinging to my skin as I twirl and leap through the woods, liberated and carefree.

The rain washes away all my worries and fears, leaving only the exhilaration of the moment. It's as if the world, with all its complexities and complications, has melted away, leaving only the simplicity and purity of the rain-soaked forest. It's a feeling of utter peace, a sense of being one with nature and the world, a sensation I've longed to experience again.

Lost in the serenity of my daydream, I sense a subtle presence to my right. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a strange but not unwelcome shiver runs down my spine. Slowly, I turn my head to see one of the Cullen brothers standing there, a striking figure with sharp, chiseled features. He exudes an air of quiet strength and confidence, and I can't help but admire his physical appearance.

As I take in his feature, I quickly realise that this isn’t Jasper, as Bella would undoubtedly be with him if he were here. Besides, Jasper is known for his blond hair, which contrasts with the dark brunette locks of the Cullen brother beside me. His eyes, however, remain a shimmering gold, and their intensity is captivating.

Going over Bella’s description, I recall that she mentioned Emmett to be big and buff. Emmett is tall and muscular. He has dark curly hair and dimpled cheeks. Despite his intimidating appearance, he is light-hearted and carefree. This man in front of me is almost quite the opposite with perfect and angular high cheekbones, strong jawline, a straight nose, and full lips causing my heart to quicken with a sudden realisation. In a hushed voice, I tentatively ask, “Edward?”

The name hangs in the air between us, my uncertainty evident in the way I speak his name. The Cullen brother gives a small nod, his eyes holding a hint of amusement and there’s a small smile on his pretty lips as he says, “Hello.” His voice is a velvet whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. My cheeks heat up in response, and I can’t help but feel flustered by his presence. Turning my face away from him, I gaze out at the enchanting forest, using the breathtaking view to regain my composure.

But just as I start to calm my racing heart, I sense his movement. Edward is moving closer, somewhat hesitantly as if he’s scared to do so but he moves so close I can feel the coolness of his chest against my back. The physical proximity is both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and I can’t help but wonder what his intention are as I continue to look out at the tranquil forest.

The peaceful silence in the room is broken by Edward’s soft voice, barely above a whisper, “I like your mind,” he admits, his words sending a rush of warmth through me, “It’s quiet.”

His words wash over me like a gentle caress, and I can’t deny the intrigue of his interest in my mind. It’s a compliment I could never have anticipated, coming from a vampire who can hear the thoughts of others. The intimacy of this moment is palpable, and I can sense the internal struggle within him, as if he’s torn between his desire to touch me and the realisation that we’ve only just met.

Despite my rational thoughts screaming at me to maintain my distance, I surrender to the magnetic pull of Edward Cullen. My back leans into his cool, sculpted chest, and the sensation of his icy hands on my hips sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through me. It's as if the enchantment of the Cullen house, the breathtaking view of the forest, and Edward's irresistible presence have combined to create a spell that I am unable, and unwilling, to break.

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to become completely enveloped in everything Edward. I’m hyperaware of how he feels behind me, the firmness of his chest pressed against my back, the subtle rise and fall of his breath against my neck as if it’s a force of habit for him despite vampires lack of need to breathe. His scent, a delicate blend of lilac, honey and sunshine, fills my senses and intoxicates me, wrapping me in a warm, inviting embrace.

The moment feels intensely romantic, the air electric with the unspoken connection between us. I know that Edward can read my thoughts and perceive my view of him, and in this vulnerable instant, I choose not to resist. I grant him access tot he unfiltered depths of my desire, allowing him to see and feel the passion that simmers beneath the surface.

The tension in the room crackles, the rain outside intensifying as if mirroring the fervour building within us. It's a clandestine dance of two souls drawn together by an unexplainable force. In this silent, electrifying embrace, I become an open book for Edward, my thoughts and desires laid bare, and I can only wonder what he'll make of the desires that race through my mind like wildfire

With a slow and deliberate movement, Edward turns me to face him, his eyes open and unguarded. They flicker with a hint of vulnerability, as if he, too, is uncertain of the depth of this connection. His gaze drops to my lips, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin as he hovers close. His fingers twirl my hair around them, an intimate gesture that feels like an attempt to memorise every part of me that he can reach. The air crackles with anticipation as I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this electrifying moment.

Edward’s gaze remains locked on mine, a silent promise of the depths of emotions and desire that lie beneath the surface. In the hushed room, our shared anticipation and vulnerability create an electric tension that’s impossible to ignore. His lips are tantalisingly close, and I can feel the coolness of his breath as he hovers near. It’s as if he’s about to kiss me, his intentions clear in the smouldering depths of his golden eyes. But he hesitates, his voice barely a whisper as he mumbles something about not being able to stop once he starts, a confession laden with both longing and restraint.

Unable to resist any longer, I tangle my fingers in his tousled hair, an intimate gesture that communicates my desire and intent. With a gentle, yet urgent push, I guide his face the rest of the way down until his lips finally meet mine.

As our lips meet in a hesitant and guarded kiss, a complex swirl of emotions and desires floods the space between us. Edward, despite his initial restraint, can’t help but respond to the fiery connection we share. His lips, cool and soft, brush against mine with a caution born of a lifetime of self-control. The kiss begins with a tentative exploration, as if he’s testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy.

The initial hesitancy slowly gives way to a growing intensity, and I can sense his need for more. His grip on me tightens ever so slightly, fingers digging into my hips, a delicate balance between desire and restraint. His response is careful, as if he’s constantly aware of his vampire strength, wary of causing any harm to me. The kiss deepens, his passion building, and the chemistry between us becomes an irresistible force that pushes us further into uncharted territory.

With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to walk me backwards, his lips never leaving mine, until my back makes contact with the cool glass of the windows, drawing a gasp from me. It has Edward smiling softly, golden eyes a little glazed as if in a trance of disbelief this is happening before his cold nose bumps my neck, making my pulse jump. I should be scared by how close he is to my jugular but I don’t feel any fear or anything, especially when Edward places a soft kiss on my jugular, a silent acknowledgement of the temptation that throbs beneath my skin. His lips are cold, but their touch is gentle, sending shivers of desire coursing through me.

My hands tangle back in his soft locks, guiding his lips back to mine, their coldness a stark contrast to the burning passion that courses between us. In that moment, I am both vulnerable and empowered, willingly allowing myself to be drawn further into this intoxicating dance of desire.

Each kiss makes me feel more alive, more connected to a world I never knew existed. The world outside may be drenched in rain, but in this electrifying embrace, a different kind of storm rages, a tempest of emotions and desires that we can’t control. His lips, cool and velvety soft, meet mine over and over again in a symphony of fire and ice, a fusion of elements that ignite a burning desire deep within me.

His body presses against mine, a solid and unyielding presence that leaves me feeling both vulnerable and empowered. The contrast between his cool skin and the heat of my own sets my senses ablaze. As we deepen our connection, the room seems to spin around us, and I lose myself in the feeling of everything Edward.

The room is charged with our passion, and I can feel it deep in my core. Every kiss is like a secret, a stolen moment in a world that is entirely our own. We lose track of time and space, our lips locked in an intimate dance that only intensifies the fever that has drawn us together in the first place.

But then, like a bolt of lightning in our own private storm, I hear Bella’s joyful squeal. Edward pulling away from me, and I let my face fall into the warmth of his chest, overwhelmed by embarrassment. As I hide from the world, I can feel the soft rumble of amused laughter in Edward’s chest, a sound that both soothes and electrifies me in equal measure.

“Fuck yeah!” Bells shrieks with joy and I flip her off over Edward’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around me, stifling a laugh as he can probably hear all of my silent insults and embarrassed thoughts thrown Bella’s way.

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, fingers carding through my hair and I just hum, letting my eyes flutter closed in contentment. I don’t care how quick this is happening, all I know is I need Edward and no-one else so I’ll live with the embarrassment if it means I can have Edward.

“You have me.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

Twilight Masterlist

#twilight #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight angst #twilight fluff #twilight smut #Edward cullen #Edward Cullen x reader #Edward cullen x you #Edward cullen smut #Edward cullen fluff #Edward cullen angst #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen fanfiction #Robert pattinson

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icabrth · 1 year

Text

Childish

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend finally finds out about your childish secret.

warnings: none

main masterlist

The two of you were such an unlikely pair; he was dark and vampiric (literally), while you were naïve and childish – searching for the good in everyone. Neither of your friends would’ve ever thought of or even considered you guys together. You weren’t overly emotional and you still acted your age, you just viewed the world a little differently. However, due to this he didn’t exactly know just how different you were until visited your house for the first time, to help you with an assignment.

You were busy tidying up all the clutter in your bedroom, and shoving a pile of clothing under your bed when Edward suddenly knocked on your window, startling you. You turned to the source of vibrations, eyes locking with the ones of your boyfriend.

You zoned out for a short moment, before snapping back to reality at the realization that all of your plushies were still scattered everywhere from your bed to the top of your wardrobe. Immediately shutting the curtains as you scrambled to pick everything up and hide everything. As you did, you didn’t miss the smirk forming itself on your face.

Just as you were about to pick up your favorite stuffed toy “Sunny”, (which was a grey elephant with Dumbo-like-ears) Edward beat you to it. As he carefully inspected it, you found a suddenly found the floor patterns very interesting. “Listen, they’re not mine–!” You pleaded, timidly lifting your head to meet his gaze. Though, you were met with surprise at his expression.

He was smiling – grinning, in fact. His teasing smile fit perfectly with his squinting blue eyes, you thought. The glimpse in his eyes stunned you, and you could no longer move as your body wanted you to. He spoke up, “Sunny, huh?”. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and he chuckled.

“I can read thoughts, remember?”

“Babe, I told you not to read my thoughts anymore!” You wined, stomping your foot as you snatched the plushie away from him. You sat down on the bed, facing away from him, huffing. You acted out of awkwardness in situations like this as you never really knew how to handle them.

Edward pulled you out of your thoughts and into his arms, the two of you positioned leaning against the bed frame. He kissed your cheek plenty times as his ice cold, firm hands came in contact with your chest. The way he did it was nowhere near sexual, he simply enjoyed being able to keep up with your heartbeat. “you’re adorable, you know?” He started as he played around with the elephant, holding it by its giant ears. “Is this one your favorite?” He asked you in a baby voice.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You laughed, “it’s not like I’m a baby or anything – I just like having these plushies, it’s nostalgic”. Although Edward couldn’t read your emotions, he practically sensed the way your heart fell.

“Hey, hey! You know I didn’t mean it like that!” His voice was soft, even when he raised it. “I get it, I still hold onto my first prom suit from the 1900s”.

“Did you even have prom back then? You giggled into his chest. “Sort of, I guess it was more like a ball”

#edward Cullen x reader #twilight x reader #x reader #twilight #fluff #fem!reader #Robert Pattinson x reader

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waynewifey · 8 months

Text

aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

sumary: aporia suggests “an impasse”, a knot or an inherent contradiction found in any text, an insuperable deadlock, or “double bind” of incompatible or contradictory meanings which are “undecidable”. [reference]

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

warnings: mental health struggle, miscarriage, car crash, a lot of internal dialogue

word count: 2k

A/N: the more i write, the more i put myself in this story. i feel like this ‘you’ is so complex i can’t help but try to explain her further. part four will be bruce’s perspective on all of this + an epilogue. i’m so grateful for the amazing feedback given on the last two parts and for the new followers, thank you so so much. i hope you enjoy this. (also this gif??? HELLO???)

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

the uncomfortable silence makes you want to scream. she told you that was a normal reaction and they couldn't get rid of those moments, they were essential for your self reflection. the problem was being alone with your thoughts, even for just one minute. they keep deciding you won't recover any time soon. everyone keeps holding you like a cracked vase. even negligence was better than being put under the microscope.

"i don't know what you want me to say" you respond, your gaze anxiously shuffling between the objects in the room. the woman's eyes, however, don't ever leave your face. she holds that journal like a scientist analysing a mutation. like you're some weird thing.

"you should say whatever you feel like saying." that's what she always answers. dr. quinn was extremely stoic, even for a therapist. you still liked her, though, because her pragmatic approach helped you shift your point of view and see yourself from an outside perspective, which made you want to help yourself. after weeks of feeling extra irritable, still trying to forgive your husband for lying to you, you realised maybe everything was too much for you to handle by yourself. you wanted to go back to the real world but before that, you had to do this. a quick chat with your psychiatrist and he gave you the contact to harley quinn.

"i think i've been way too mean to bruce" your confession has her nodding, like that observation had been made sessions before and she was waiting for you to realise that. "he's been so supportive and helpful, but sometimes words just fly out of my mouth and i don't even mean them"

"do you think it's easier to blame him than to come to terms with what actually happened?" you can't answer, because this was all you've asked yourself lately. you were a coward, hiding behind his suffering to prevent confronting yours. it's easy to curse him, to reject him, but it's not what you want to do. lately it feels like you don't have any control over your emotions and actions. you thought maybe if you pushed away the last person that still cared for you, you could disappear in your loneliness and finally stop hurting. "y/n you've been through something terrible. the kind of thing we never think it's gonna happen to us. i know it doesn't feel real, but you have to face it that it is. the thing about trauma... you have to keep living with it. you have to keep going, because it doesn't go away. but this is your life and you don't get to stay on standby. you hurt the people you love because it's better than hurting yourself. you told me you feel bad about it, so why won't you change?"

why won't you? you don't even know where to start. it felt comfortable living in sorrow forever. horrible, but comfortable. again, it was in fact easier to blame him than to accept this was reality. but he's right outside, been waiting for you for two hours, as he has done twice a week for over a month. you weren't being fair to him. he didn't deserve this. dr. quinn sees the defeat in your eyes and sighs in a mission accomplished type of breath.

"think about this, okay? we'll talk on friday." you nod, as if you weren't already overthinking it.

bruce sees you before listening to you. he's created the habit to stay in the waiting room with headphones in, blasting loud music. he didn't want you to feel like he was prying on you. he also didn't want to listen anything you had to say about him. you had the right to be mad at him, given everything that had happened. he knew you didn't mean it when you bomb dropped the word 'divorce' every now and then. it would take you some time to get back to normal and he wouldn't rush you.

you walk to the car quietly and get into the driver's seat. he agreed to let you drive to and from therapy. the office was actually in dr. quinn's house, a little bit on the country side of the city, if you could call it that. it was a 50 minute drive with no traffic, roads empty enough for you to drift off in you thoughts. he watches you drive, eyes brightening up a little more everyday. he realised that trying to shield you from the world wasn't going to work out. you need to learn how to be on your own. he needs to learn how to care for you while away.

"i'm sorry," you caught him off guard, observing the curves of your face. he frowns at the unexplained sentence. you glance at him but look back at the road. "for the way i've been acting. for pushing you away. for being too complicated. i know you're trying to help… thank you for staying."

"darling, of course. for better or for worse, remember? i'm never leaving you. we're getting through this, together. and don't you worry about me, i'll be okay when you are too, alright? you're doing great, i can see how much you're working towards it." he holds out a hand for you and you take it, intertwining your fingers. his calloused palms are softer now, courtesy of the months without batman-ing. they still embrace yours entirely and warm the cold tips of your fingers.

"i love you" the sweetness of that feeling dominates your tastebuds and it's almost like the day you started dating. that innocent type of love that consist of the pure enjoyment of each others company. however, your attempt to savour the moment is ruined by a shape in your peripheral eyesight.

"i love you too" bruce's voice is muffled by the anxious thoughts taking over your mind. the panic starts to overflow. he notices your body getting stiff and the wheel looking loose on your hand. your breathing lost it's rhythm to creaking gasps. there's something wrong. your eyes are frozen in a vehicle. he's seen this van before. maybe not this one, but an identical one, in a security camera tape in court. it looks exactly like the one that took you. "baby, hey, hey. i'm right here." you don't pay any mind to the man beside you. you can't, not when your instincts are telling you to run. not when you can feel the gun getting knocked on your head over and over again. bruce is saying something. the tears are blurring your sight. this is too much.

he's calling you screaming at this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you still haven't looked away from the van. there's a bump coming up, the car is dangerously fast and you're not driving at all. he goes for the wheel but isn't quick enough. the tires wiggle, going in their own direction. the car changes lanes, getting in the wrong way of the street. another car is coming and the impact isn't light. your head is thrown forwards, the airbag covering your face. the windshield shatters and little pieces of glass get stuck in your hair. the crash isn't too bad, you're both still awake and only the front has been smashed. but you get out hyperventilating, falling onto the ground and weeping.

bruce gets out as well, only a scratch on the forehead. he has to kneel on the dirt to hold you up. for a while, he doesn't say anything. the other driver is standing, phone in the ear. he's also fine. the cars were the only damage. two other drivers stop by, offering help. you wish he could help you, but it seems as if there's something inherently wrong with you.

— depression.

the weeks following the accident were harsh. it took a while to get you believing in recovery again. you still weren't sure. somehow there was press at the site, so pictures of you crying next to a car crash made it to the papers. there's minor commentary online about you faking it for your husbands popularity. most of the netizens feel desperately sorry for you and have painted you to be their new princess diana, the comparison seems wild to you.

you only go online every three days or so, because you can't resist the urge to know what bruce hasn't been telling you. jokes on you, he's actually been a lot more transparent lately. you agreed that the batman would show up to the sentence of edward nashton, to pressure the jury with his presence. it worked and the criminal got life without parole. the lawyers said that your public presence impacted on his trial, as 20 years was the standard. you were just glad he wouldn't do that to anybody else ever again. the case got national and your family from outside the state, that you not-so-kindly kept in the dark, started making contact, victimising you all over again.

but things were getting better, gradually. it had been almost a year and it felt like that chapter of your life was finally being finished. you were trying to get your life back, including your driver's license. it was suspended for a while after the accident, so now you had to submit a bunch of medical records to prove that you were mentally fine to drive again. that's how you found yourself in bruce's home office, searching everywhere for your documents. you could've asked him where he put it, but he had just fallen asleep in the living room and you didn't want to disturb him.

in one of the desk's drawers, you find a folder with the local hospital logo on it. you open it, shuffling through the papers you've seen before. only one stands out, with "ob/gyn" on the top of the sheet. you wonder if there's anything helpful there. your eyes start reading the words one by one, listing the examinations they've done on you. the subject changes abruptly.

the ultrasound analysis reports the miscarriage of an unknown pregnancy to the patient's spouse.

you feel like you're about to throw up. the world starts spinning as you force yourself to continue to read.

the fetus was estimated to be in the development stage of the beginning of the second trimester. the miscarriage was most likely a result of several mechanical trauma. dilation and curettage was performed with the patient in a medically induced coma.

you try to remember to breathe in and breathe out just like dr. quinn taught you. you expect the tears but they don't come out. the panic doesn't come. it's suddenly so quiet. it's not like a hole has been punched through your chest, it's like you have no chest at all. it's like you don't even exist. you somehow sit down, your body does. you feel as if it's moving on it's own and you're just watching from afar. your thoughts sound so distant, so irrelevant. you can only think of the baby that had once been inside of you and you didn't even realised. you didn't have the time to love him. you've had him there, right there, the thing you wanted the most in the world and he was taken from you. everything was taken from you.

if a tree falls on a forest, and there's no one around to hear, does it still make a sound? it felt like your fall was silent.

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a-fandom-reimagined · 9 months

Text

ALL OF YOU | BRUCE WAYNE X PLUS SIZE GN! READER (FT. ALFRED)

୨୧ type: fluff & angst | word count: 887 | tw: sfw, mentions of bullying but no actual descriptions of what was said or done. please enjoy

→ please note that I don't think I've ever written anything for a gn reader before so if I messed anything up (like how i couldn't figure out what the gn alternative for master/miss is) I apologize

requested: omg okay, idk if you would want to write this but; since i can't find ANY battinson x plus size reader stuff, could i request a battinson x gn plus size reader where bruce discovers his partner being insecure about themselves and tries to cheer them up? this would be angst mixed with fluff if that's okay with you :>

Everything is fine, you told yourself.

The limo pulled away from the curb merging into early morning rush hour. The annual Wayne Foundation Ball had ran hours longer than you'd intended. And as host, you couldn’t leave early. No matter how much you'd wanted to. You relaxed into your lover's embrace, drinking in his cologne. Basking in his warmth. It was the most relaxed you'd felt all evening.

You were almost asleep when Bruce's voice dragged you back to reality. "What's wrong?"

You opened your eyes. "Nothing." You couldn't even manage a smile to better sell the lie.

Tonight was supposed to be your night. And they took it from you…

Bruce frowned. "Don't lie to me. We're better than that."

You were better than that. And now you had shame to add to the long list of emotions weighing you down.

They were just words. Everything is fine.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. You didn't want to talk about it. Not with him. But you couldn't lie to him either.

Your fiancé kissed the top of your head, hugging you tighter. "Talk to me. Did someone hurt you? Did something happen?"

"It doesn't matter. It's not important."

"It's bothering you so it does matter and it is important. You've been talking non-stop about this Gala. You've been planning it for months. What happened?"

You pulled back to wet eyes and a broken smile. Bruce's jaw ticked, his expression chillingly blank. Bruce usually kept this side of himself hidden away from you. Was this the version of him that went out to hunt bad guys every night? Or was this just a small sliver of him?

"Sir, not to interrupt but would you like me to turn the car around?"

You'd forgotten the partition was down. Alfred's voice was low and clipped. Almost unrecognizable from the sassy, well-mannered man who'd been like a father to you over the past four years.

"I'll let you know." answered Bruce before returning his attention to you. "Please." he said softly.

You shook your head. "It's so silly. They were just words."

"What did they say? Who said it?"

You sighed heavily. He wasn't going to let this go. And it was stupid of you to try to hide it from him. The World's Greatest Detective… The World's Most Attentive Fiancé was more like it. "The…people at the gala were mean to me," you admitted in a small broken voice. You hated the way you sounded. You hated even more that you'd let it get to you. "There. I told you. They were mean to me tonight and they said awful things about my weight, how much I ate at dinner. One woman gave some diet pills she swears by in the bathroom. It shouldn't bother me. It's not like I haven't experienced this before. I am a plus-sized person, I know that but…I don't know. These people gather every year to give away exorbitant amounts of money to make Gotham a better, safer place to live. I don't know, I guess I just expected better. Dumb, I know."

"It's not dumb."

"But it is! Bruce, you put on a mask every night and go face down real villains. Real villains that cause real pain with real weapons."

Bruce's jaw dropped. It took a lot to shock him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything because they're just words, Bruce, not bullets! And I let them get to me. I've been miserable all night. That's why you caught me in the hallway tonight. I didn't get lost, I just got down crying in a broom closet and I was walking around and waiting for my eyedrops to kick in and hide the redness! Now, can we please just drop it and forget that this ever happened?"

"No we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you feel like you can't confide in me just because of who I am and what I do at night. They're not just words, Y/N these people bullied you. You worked your ass off to make this Gala the success it was. We've never raised this much money in a single night before and it was because of you. Y/N I don't care how minor or unimportant you think it is. You don't have to get roundhouse kicked into a dumpster for your feelings to be valid."

You swallowed a laugh. "When in the world did you get roundhouse kicked into a dumpster?"

Bruce smiles. "That's the point. The point is your feelings are valid. And you can come to me with any of them."

"And I as well, *[Master/Miss] Y/N."

You breathed easy for the first time that night, And smiled for the first time that night. "Thank you. Both of you."

Bruce smiled back, pressing his forehead to yours. "Feel better?"

You nodded.

"Good. Because you're going to tell me the name of everyone who bothered you tonight. And then Batman is going to toilet paper their house and slash their fucking tires."

You barked out a laugh.

Bruce pulled you even closer leaving a trail of kisses from your temple to your collarbone. "You're perfect just the way you are, my heart. All of you."

REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: ALWAYS OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | MASTERLIST

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neonovember · 1 year

Text

Do they know you’re with me?

pairings: battinson x fem!reader

summary: this city always found a way to take another part of bruce, until all that was left of him was Batman. But taking you? Now that was just downright stupid.

warnings: very graphic displays of violence, feral!bruce wayne, misogyny, assault, fluff, angst, literal murder

word count: 4.9k

a/n: watched batman for the second time and decided to dip my feet into the seeping black oil spill that is bruce wayne and his fucked up morals. + you end up driving the fucking batMOBILE

You don’t remember how you found yourself sprawled on the floor of a rotting warehouse 20 miles from the inner city streets of Gotham, all you can do is feel the brick stones beneath the weight of your body, scratchy and old, crumbling beneath the grip of your fingers.

The slits of sunlight that cast shadows across the floor look like mirages. The fuzzy edges of your vision not quite clearing despite your desperate blinks. You want Bruce, you want him now.

You scrawl to the bordered-off windows, stuffing fingers into the space between the pieces of bordered wood, trying to pry them open, you’re exhausted, you don’t know why, your entire body is just aching, your limbs limp and feeble, sore from an exertion you have no memory of. The thought makes you shudder unconsciously, why is it so hard to remember?

Your mind is a collection of big black oil spills, they spread, when you try harder to think back to hours before. You don’t like this, god, everything fucking hurts

You continue this limp pathetic excuse of an escape, eyes burning with tears as the wood refuses to budge, the flashes of Bruce teaching you self-defence engulf your mind.The smell of old rubber, your complaining and his gruff condescension clambering on the gym floor as he taught you a left hook, how to twist under an assailant, how to fight smart instead of hard, how to knock a 200lb man unconscious- it all falls flat now, settles on the floor amongst the rotting moss and burrowed insects, what a fucking joke.

You can’t help but feel the discerning glare on Bruce’s face at this moment, watching you stifle as if you hadn’t spent weeks together preparing for this exact moment.

You’re pathetic, he’s wasted air and time on you. The image of his face pulls the tears on your waterline down your cheeks, and you collapse against the warehouse walls as you crumble. You relish the burn of your nails digging into your palm, letting the burn radiate through your hand as you roughly hit your head against the moist rotting stone.

This was it, the last of your name left to rot next to wet hay and dust, all you’ve worked for, all you’ve done, swept away and taken with the autumn wind. You know it’s horrible but isn’t this such a pathetic way to die? Not in combat, the blood and dirt of your struggle signifying your sacrifice, but because you were weak, brittle and foolish like your father had always said.

You stuff a fist into your mouth, reprimanding yourself, you will die, you will get your head spilt on this floor if you don’t get up, right fucking now. Forcing back the guttural groan back into the ribs of your chest, you survey the damp warehouse for any way out, and your eyes catch the glint sparkling against the rays of the rising sun.

Metal, something hard, something you can use to pry open blanks. It might be oxidising into rusted dust in the seconds that pass but it’s something, and that’s good.

Staggering towards it, you hold your weight against the warehouse walls, practically hopping with your one good foot towards the sledgehammer. You grasp the metal into your weak fist, and relief washes over you as the weight of it reassures some real damage.

Your eyes catch the bordered wooden door, secured with a padlock drilled into the metal bars, this warehouse is left to its mere skeleton, the metal rotting as peaks of asbestos break free.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you shuffle your body towards the door, crouching closer to inspect the latch, your ears catch rambunctious laughter and the crash of bottles far to the right of the rotting warehouse. Your assumed assailants celebrating your capture perhaps, you shudder as you recall your unconsciousness moments ago. What else had they done to you?

Bringing the heavy hammer down into the padlock, the dust from the door flutters to the floor. You pause as you await the sounds of boots running to ensure your capture again, but it does not come. The laughter and boom of their festivities conceal your escape.

Giving the padlock two more hits, it finally gives way, cracking through the metal as you rip it from the door handle. You breathe through your nose as you take a tentative step forward, slipping through the gap you’ve forced open.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the pitch-black darkness that surrounds you, and soon you realise the warehouse is much bigger than you thought. Rows of brimstone columns hold up the rows of metal fixtures, slits of moonlight filter through the expansive window roof, the stench of old machinery and dye hinting to a possibly old fabric factory. You don’t want to consider how those big machines could be used against you, the idea pushed back down in your mind.

Shuffling forward, you catch the shadowy burst of light coming from your right, licks of orange and yellow crawling up the decrepit walls. A fire of some sort, surrounded by your assailants casts shadowy figures that seem huge and monstrous.

You begin searching for an escape, a latched window you could force open, some hole in the wall, anything. You come up empty, the towering walls looking down on you almost sealing your fate. You’re at the hands of these men to do as they would like, and for a moment you’d wish you’d listen to Bruce and let him attach that tracking device on your watch, violating or not.

You press your fingertips to your eyes as you try to think, the only plausible chance of escape is to move closer to the right wing of the warehouse and slip past their drunken state whilst their guard is let down.

Pressing your back to the wall, you venture forth, pressing forward with the tips of your toes as your sneakers squeak against the dirt floor. Making a turn your feet crash into a wayward liquor bottle, the glass chattering beneath your feet. You wince as you hear the men stop their guffawing at the sound, ears picking up your mistake.

“What the fuck was that?” You hear the gruff throaty sound of someone yelling.

“No idea, ya sure you kept our girl locked and tied??” Another replies, you have to keep from retching at the sound of them referring to you as “their girl”. The way their slimy mouths wrapped around the word had you sick.

“Don’t fucking tell me you forgot rookie, or else you’ll fuckin join her ass” The man from before argues, anger riddling his tone.

“Hey! Relax aight? He padlocked that shit, there ain’t no way she’s getting through it. So sit the fuck back down Daroll, it’s probably some fuckin’ rat. You know how this city is, with all its fucking filth clogging the streets, turning those animals into the size of goddamn cats” The man replies, in a calm tone. He seems to be the ring leader of sorts, the rest of the men falling in line and replying in unison.

“At least now we’ve got Bruce Wayne’s girl tied back there, this time we’ll get our goddamn compensation from this city. I’ll make sure of it” The man replies.

You shiver as they refer to you as some sort of bargaining chip like Bruce would send millions in a briefcase in return for your safety. You don’t doubt that he would, but the thought scares you to no end. If this played out how they wished for it, what would stop any common thief from snagging you off the streets of Gotham in return for their “reparations”?

Bruce had to set an example, and you don’t doubt the events that would follow would be a bloody mess of fists and broken bones. You can’t help it, but something deep within you preens at the thought, Bruce, clad in his dark element, falling over the assailants like a spreading darkness.

But the fear of being left to rot in some warehouse on the docks of Bleak island is still there, and who’s to say Bruce would even find you? Your body, left in an unmarked grave once they got what they wanted, or better yet, thrown into the city’s river to be used as fish bate.

“Bruce fucking Wayne, man if there’s one name I hate in this goddamn city. Shit, you can barely escape it from the way they’ve plastered his face on every inch of Gotham” A man says

“Ya know the news outlets, always love a fucking sob story, actin’ as if families don’t get massacred by us daily” The man laughs, and they soon join him, falling back into the harmony of throwing back beer bottles and throwing knives at rats scurrying away.

Once you feel their ears aren’t catching every tiny sound, you continue your venture through the warehouse, the grip of the sledgehammer is firm in your grasp and it tethers you to the ground. If they did find you, at least you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Catching the view of the group of men, huddled around a large bonfire, they each wear the same worn dirtied clothes, maroon jackets and washed-out plaid shirts that peek through. Beer cans and stunted cigarettes litter the ground, chests full of what you assumed would be weapons and drugs strewn about.

From the way their expansive shoulder stretch the material, you grapple with the fact that these men weren’t your typical scrawny thugs looking for a fix. They had decent muscle, the kind that could crush your neck within their grasps. And you were in their very own lion's den.

Gulping down the fear radiating down your back, you catch the stream of moonlight peeking from a cracked open door. A hope stirs within you, and you force yourself to swallow your fear as you calculate the very short steps you would need to make before finally escaping.

Stepping forward, your eyes are strained on the group of men, never letting your eyes leave them as you slip past from the shadows of the warehouse walls.

You’re so close, the door practically at arms reach before you are yanked hard by an invading hand, your neck rag dolls back as the mysterious man shoves you against him.

“No!!” You scream, as he leans into your neck, the faint smell of tobacco and beer causing you to wretch your face away.

“Looks like I found our very own little lady tryna escape” The man yells towards the huddled group at the centre of the warehouse. You thrash against him with all your might, limbs flying with little control as you try and rip yourself from his grip.

His chest is like a wall, laughing down at your frail body thrashing against his own, he presses your backside into his own as he grinds from the side of your eye.

“If you want it rough ya could’ve just said that doll” The man snarks, hand reaching down to grip your chest before you bite down on it, hard.

“You fucking bitch!!” He rips his hand from your mouth before his fist is colliding with your face. Your brain takes a minute to register the pain, almost blinded by the force of it, before you groan loudly. The white-hot pain spreads across your face and down your neck, throbbing with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

Your neck lies limp across his chest and he drags you towards the men looking on in amusement. Throwing you to the ground, your eyes meet scuffed boots that press against your bruising cheek.

You try and get yourself up before the boot is pressing onto your back, imprisoning you to the floor.

“Seems like you got in a little tussle huh?” The man you’ve recognised as the leader of the pack speaks down at you.

“You see, we wanted to make this as painless as possible for you, but now you had to go and try and escape didn’t you?” The man pulls you from the floor, dropping you onto a plastic chair that presses onto your back.

You don’t dare to look up to the man, he’s got a good foot on you and he looks at you like a formidable statue.

“Look at me when I speak to you” The man roars suddenly, pressing a dirty finger to your chin, forcing your chin to meet his thundering blues.

Forced to look up at him, you take notice of the features that make up his face. Blond hair dirtied with blood and dust falling over his face, the scratching scrawl of a yellow stubble that spreads across his jaw and neck. Brooding dark brows hang over his deep silver-blue eyes. His features are conventional in the way a Prince Charming or cover model would be, but the snark and deep hatred that seeps into every one of his features cast an malevolent shadow, and sets your heart to pound against your chest.

“Don’t you see? My men wouldn’t have hurt you if you’d- if you’d just listened. Why can’t anyone fucking listen, huh? Do you think I want to do this?” He screams at you, hands flying arms they press at his chest in some sort of act. His features morphed into a facade of anguish as if he had no choice but to chain you in a rotting cell.

You bite your tongue to stop your sharp mouth from scoffing in his face, the taste of copper is one you swallow regretfully. You eye his erratic behaviour, the way his body moves around like his a life wire, it’s one you’ve seen before.

Some unmarked drug that had taken over the streets of Gotham, one the GCPD has been scrambling to find out but coming up with loose ends. Bruce himself had warned you of its destruction on mostly unassuming teenagers and drop heads, the way the high would go on forever, before descending into a madness fuelled by the user's deepest fears. Sending you into a psychotic breakdown you can’t escape without throwing yourself from a building or shoving a pistol down your throat.

He seemed to be at the peak of it, relishing in the euphoria and grandiosity it granted him.

Your eyes catch the shadow of a winged cape, up high and cloaked in the darkness of the ceiling, and you have to press your fingers into your thighs to stop your face from showcasing the relief that washes over.

Bout damn time.

Your eyes focus on the man again but glancing from the corner of your eye as you catch your winged saviour perched on the ceiling's metal columns. He raises a gloved finger to his lips, mouthing one single word.

Distract.

You blink twice to show you understand, before diverting your eyes back to the erratic man who’s begun to sneer at you in disgust.

“What do you think you’ll get out of this?” You mutter, and he reels back at you in shock, before a smile pulls at the slit of his lips, eyes blazing with a fury that sets you on edge.

“I always knew he liked em’ mouthy” The man replies, before stepping forward.

“Bruce isn’t going to sacrifice the security of his name just to give you all some fucking pocket change. You think he’s that stupid?” You reply in a voice you hope is every bit steady and confident as you think.

That man narrows his eyes at you, as the rest of the men look on in eagerness. Ready to watch you get ripped to shreds by their beloved leader, salivating at the thought of you bloody and bruised by their fists.

“Bruce is too soft for this city, spending all his damn time boarded up in that manor, all that money just left to gather dust.” The man begins, resting his body against a barbed-wrapped bat.

“For years, Gotham had griefed that man, reconciling that The Bruce Wayne was no longer a symbol of hope for this city”

“But then there was you, that sweet little thing that forced him out of his fucking cave. And boy did the media love you, how couldn’t they? A precious doll that got Gotham’s billionaire to open his manor gates again” The man replies in disgust, spitting next to your shoes.

“And then he was back to being the public’s favourite rich, billionaires boy. All we’ve worked for, everything we’d done to prove he was like the filth that crawled through these streets out the fucking window”.

“Whilst people like me, like us, good hard working people, were left to get drowned by the muck and filth of this city. The swamp that sludges and clings to the streets. Now I’m not that religious, but how the fuck is that fair?”

“I know you aren’t stupid, different from the other woman he’s plastered to his side, anyone with two fucking eyeballs can see that. Which makes it all the more reason that we’ll get what we need no matter what”. The man smiles at you fondly, as if he hadn’t just threatened your life mere moments ago.

His eyes light up at the look of disgust you throw at him,

“Oh don’t look at me like that baby, It’s just business. Brucey will give us our well-deserved money, and we’ll give him back the one thing he cares about.” The man replies, before raising his bat to press gently into your chest.

“You.”

Your ears catch the swift swoop of air before your eyes register the enveloping black armour that glides across the warehouse.

It happens quickly, one moment the self-proclaimed leader is chanting, murmuring Bruce’s fate before he is knocked down by a batted creature

“The fuck?! Is that Batman-“. You hear the murmur of confusion litter the men, as they catch glimpses of a swallowing darkness descend into their safe haven.

The rest of the men don’t get a second to reach for their weapons before he's taking them down with his bare hands, picking them off, one by one like fleas.

You watch on as Bruce collides a man's face into another, smashing their skulls until their faceless and bloody. One brave thug throws a wooden crate at him, and he catches it swiftly, throwing it into another’s back.

The sound of splitting skin and the crunch of bone seems to go on forever, the grunts of Bruce’s voice the only sound he makes as he throws limp bodies like rag dolls across the dirt floor.

The rest of the thugs scurry like ants, escaping through the side door and jumping into rusting pickup trucks as they watch through the review mirror in heaving horror.

Batman has left one men in particular behind, wanting to take his time with them, the ferocity of his unneeded rage doesn’t escape him, his fists are practically dumb as they are split and bleeding from colliding with bone.

He’s shaking with it, the fear and malevolence that seems to drip from him like blood. His head is screaming, white noise blocking the outside world since the moment he found you missing. He knows at that moment that the deep dark part of his night city creature is rearing its head, he wants to destroy every single fucking thug that has ever even aided in your capture, preens with a burning desire to eradicate and burn their entire existence off the face of Gotham itself.

He hears the sound of your soft whimper, and he tears his eyes away from the groaning man at his feet. And for the first time since his fist collided with that fucking, he’s eyes glide over your frame hunched in the chair.

Jaw tight as he naughs his teeth, a growl escaped his chest at the sight of you, his baby, dried blood seeping down your neck as your left eye is swollen shut from the force of the punch.

Bruce steps towards you, tearing his gloves off to press his cold fingers towards your cheek, soothing and brushing the tears that streamed down your face.

“It hurts Bruce, it hurts so bad” You sob, and the sound retches at Bruce’s heart, his eyes set on the outline of a fist pressed into your perfect skin.

“I know baby, I know, I’ll make it better okay? I’ll make it better” Bruce replies softly, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The evidence of another man, daring to put he’s hands on you sends that same unchecked rage to burn through his chest, and Bruce turns swiftly at the man responsible.

He’s crawling away pathetically, his leg twisted at the awkward angle as he sobs in pain loudly. Bruce boots steps towards him, the towering expansive figure of what you could only describe as a brick fucking wall moving with ease as he watches on at him pathetically.

Reaching down, he reaches with a gigantic hand to drag him back towards Bruce’s feet. Pressing a foot to the broken bone, the man howls in pain as Bruce brutalising his wounds. It isn’t enough, the cries and screams of your attacker do nothing to satiate the flames of anger unfurling in him.

He wants him silenced.

Gripping his neck, Bruce roughly licks him up, dragging his limb body towards you. Picking up his face by his dark strands, Bruce forces him to stare at his work shaking him to emphasis what he had done to you.

“You did this no? You like beating women?? You dare put your goddamn filthy hands on her and you try to run away?” Bruce roars, pulling tight against the man’s hair as he gains enough energy to howl loudly.

“I think it’s only fair to apologise, it’s the least you could do” Bruce growls into his air before throwing him to the floor. The man looks back at Bruce in confusion, blooding spitting out of his nose.

“APOLOGISE” Bruce roars, it bursts through his belly like a caved creature and the man quickly complies, shaking in fear as he fold himself onto his knees, looking up at you behind clasped hands.

There is a gurgle as you look down, like he’s trying to speak the words but there is too much blood flogged in his lungs. It fills you with a concerning pleasure to see your attacker like this, shaking knees as he looks up at you, coughing and heaving, mouthing the words before restarting.

“I’m not sure she hears you, how about you say it abit louder” Bruce yells from behind, causing the man to flinch.

Finally regaining speech, the man fights through the tearing and failing of his voice cords, and screams out in sobbing chants.

“I’m sorry? ‘m sorry ‘m so sorry’ please!”

It’s all it takes before Bruce is picking him up by his collar, colliding a ginormous fist across his face, the wheezed scream leaving his barely intact throat as he beats him to the ground, hands coming down again, and again and again. Blood spraying across his unmasked face, a deranged look taking over that saw only one purpose.

The man begins to crawl away on his knees, a wheezing wet exhale leaving his chest every few seconds, a line of sludge blood follows him, circled him like a tail, he sputters as his lungs begins to fill with liquid, before upruptly shooting up and collapsing limp onto the dirt floor covered in shit, piss and blood.

Bruce turns to you, his footsteps hurrying to crouch down as he cradled your head in his strong arms. He shushes you gently as he rocks you back and forth, caressing you with the bloody hands that avenged you.

“Oh Bruce, I should’ve listen to you, if I hadn’t-I I had just, if I would’ve just listened-“ You strain, voice wobblying as the fear and anger burning through finally caught up. The adrenaline and numbing you felt moments ago now replaced by the reality of the situation you had found yourself in.

Bruce raises your face to meet his own, shaking his head as he wipes away tears

“Hey, hey, none of that, you being connected to me? It would’ve happened sooner or later. I just thought I could protect you from that-this” Bruce gestures to the mangled corpse surrounding you two “Just for a little longer. You held your own today, and god you looked beautiful doing it”. Bruce replies, a haze cast over his eyes as they bore into your own.

“I’m proud of you, and l’m just thankful your alive, alright?” Bruce shakes your shoulder gently to emphasis his point, causing you to let out a laugh that sends knifes down your lungs.

You grip him closer to you, your hands trailing againts the thick metal and fabric of his suit that seemed to stretch endlessly. Reaching further, your hand comes into contact with a wet lukewarm spot that seems to stream between your fingers. Looking down, your eyes bludge as you take notice of the deep jaggered gash stretching across Bruce’s midsection.

“Oh my god, Bruce you’re bleeding” You whisper, pressing a hand towards the bleeding wound spreading its wetness further and further.

And as if he hadn’t even noticed before, Bruce takes his eyes off of you for the first time, looking down at the wound on his stomach. Ripping through skin and muslce so fiercely, lol or a lighting bolt only thicker and redder with blood.

“It’s fine, just a little scratch” Bruce replies, however he doubles over you anyway, hunched figure holding onto your shoulders as the pain rocks through him.

“You’re going to bleed out, we have to get you to a hospital” You cry, tears burning your eyes at the thought of losing him. You had just got him back, it isn’t fair.

“No, no, no hospital, take me to Alfred” Bruce erases our, copper spilling out of his mouth as he coughs violently.

“How? Bruce I can’t, you won’t make it if I walk you or-or get a cab-”

“Honey, honey I need you to listen to me, you have to take the Batmobile, it’s the only way” Bruce replies, as you haul him up gently onto his feet, resting his arm around you.

“What? You can’t possibly think I’ll be able to drive that” You mourn, the Batmobile was another thing entirely, a second extension of Batman himself. You don’t even know if it was suited for anyone else to drive without you know, hurting them.

“I’ve got about 10 minutes before the entire contents of my bloodstream is emptied between those fingers” Bruce replies wincing, as he angles himself so that he is resting his body weight on his good foot.

“You’ve got to do this, I know you can do this” He groans out, a wave of nauseous pain takes over him and he topples over, retching.

You have no choice, despite the spine tingling fear of driving Bruce’s most prized position, your man needed you, and if you didn’t step up, you would lose him right between your fingers.

“Okay, okay” You huff out, breathing air from your mouth as you shuffle towards the exit of the warehouse, Gotham twinkles in the depths of the night, the crumbling infested towers and roads of filth alive even now.

The Batmobile comes into view, in all its indestructible and formidable glory, and you gulp as you approach the mass of a vehicle.

You slide Bruce into the passenger seat, before walking around the car into the drivers compartment, the cool ventilated air of the Batmobile does little to ease the anxiety jittering your bones.

Bruce rips a rug in half, holding it between his teeth before wrapping it around his stomach, forcing the wound to soak up the cotton. He reached for a latch in the batmobiles left console, ripping open a syringe filled with some sort of golden liquid, handing it to you, he nods againts your wide eyes, towards his naked arm.

“What??” You reply ghastly

“Just some pain killer hun, ain’t nothing different than an IV”

Shaking, you brace his arm, before driving the needle into his arm, pressing down the contraption as you watch the liquid golden seep into his bloodstream.

Bruce winces before letting out a huffed breathe of releif, blowing out some strands across his face before leaning back.

You gawk at the millions of contraptions and buttons of the center console, parts you notice belonging to any normal car while others seemed intergalactic. You know Bruce had a knack for inventing even the most daring gadgets, technology that veered on science fiction. But this was something else entirely.

As if sensing your trepidation, Bruce walks you through the powering switch, before pressing a button from his sleeve that promoted a holographic figure of Alfred.

“Master Bruce? Y/N? Is that you?” Alfred replied in shock, the brisket white hairs of his eyebrows pulled tight.

“Alfred, god, Bruce has been hit, badly, he’s just- he was saving me and now- now” You hastily reply, a half sob crawling up your throat as your forced to recount the prior evidence.

“Jesus Christ, Bruce always over estimated himself in all the years I’ve known him, but taking down a whole sector with no back up??”

“It’s just a scratch Alfred, you-” wheeze- “you need to relax” Bruce replies coughing loudly

Alfred peers down at him in disapproval

“It’s save to say, I’ll be prepping the operating room and phoning in Dr Proctor” Sighs Alfred, the turbulence of caring for such a man, for two men, aging him.

The holographic projector of Alfred shuts down, as Bruce shifts his face to look at you, beads of sweat has formed across his forehead, a thin sheen coating his face.

“Now it’s all you baby, get us home” Bruce replies softly, you reach towards his face to brush away the dark wet strands falling across his face.

Pressing a hard kiss againts his forehead, Bruce quickly reachers for your cheek, pulling you down to press his soft lips against your own, swallowing the pain and anguish whispered between the both of you.

You can’t help but let the tears stream down your face, and as Bruce glides his tongue along your bottom lip in a strangled moan, he licks them away quickly.

Shuddering with squeezed eyes, you peer at Bruce’s figure, layed across the passenger seat, heavy breaths wheezing through his chest.

You turn back to the wheel of the Batmobile, your hands grip the wheel until the leather squeaks under your fingers. Everything from this terrrifying ordeal falls away, the men, Bruce’s final victim, that room..it’s muffled by the thick air of the Batmobile interior. You are Bruce’s, and you will fight teeth and bone to ensure he doesn’t die saving you, after all his done, after everything that had happened.

Most of your life, you’ve never been able to know exactly what you want, or what to do, until Bruce had swooped into your life, cape and all. And now you have one purposes at this moment, and it comes to you clear as day. Deep as bone, beyond flesh and blood.

You get him home.

divider by @firefly-graphics !

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acciojaeyun · 2 years

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better than words | cedric diggory smut

this a repost. unfortunately, tumblr has deleted the original post as it was said to have violated community guidelines.

pairing: cedric diggory x fem!reader (gryffindor) warnings: smut/nsfw content, cedric diggory being an angel but a devil in the sheets oml kinks: overstimulation, daddy kink, dom!cedric, sub!reader, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, slight innocence/corruption kink if you squint prompts: “don’t worry, i’ll go easy on you,” “you say that as if hooking up with you is something i should be concerned of” “i like to take my chances”

a/n: in response to this request. thank you for this! again, this is situated in hogwarts. which means, this follows a personal fanon where hogwarts education started at 14. added: ergo, as this fanfic is set where they are already in 6th year, the students are technically 19-20 of age.

summary: cedric diggory was one innocent lad with not-so innocent desires. not everyone knew - not even y/n. and when they were locked up in a room because of a harmless party game - all thanks to fred and george.

Y/N was fucked. Absolutely fucked.

What might’ve triggered it, she doesn’t know. But she awoke with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead, all because of a certain Hufflepuff that she had been dreaming about at night.

Her mind wanders off to the dream vividly. Even Y/N herself couldn’t deny that even in her subconscious state, it seemed that Cedric Diggory consumed her thoughts. What had been harmless pining over him because of his rather innocent nature quickly escalated to Y/N trying to get herself off on her bed as her roommates quietly snored in their deep slumber.

She envies them, really. Having to not have felt hot and bothered over someone that she finds attractive to the extent that they’d be dreaming of them and having them almost as sexually frustrated as her as she is right now.

“Good Merlin,” she groaned, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as she regains composure from the explicit scenes in her head. Scenes she was positive she’d be thinking about again tonight - if, she would have some alone time tonight, she thinks. Especially when the infamous Gryffindor twins are hosting a party; and her, Y/N, being a student known to many in her dominant stature and easy-going attitude, being expected by many to attend to.

Considering she had so many things to attend to these days – that including daydreaming about corrupting Cedric Diggory’s innocent facade.

“Ah, Y/N!” Fred cheered as he sees Y/N take her seat at the Gryffindor table, face depicting such annoyance and frustration from being interrupted in her dream as well as the persistent dread of classes - with Potions as their first class in fifth year.

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying her best to ignore the older twin’s remarks on her bitter attitude by supplying herself food on her plate, but as she was about to fill her goblet with much needed orange juice to soothe down her dry throat, her wrists were stopped by Fred and was instantly squeezed in between the bodies of the two beaters.

“What do you want, Fred?” snarled she, making Fred and George exchange amused grins at each other, “Good morning, too, Y/N.” George laughed, taking a bite of her toast that she had just held for her to eat.

“So, Y/N, we’ve been thinking,” George started, turning his body towards yours, “Certainly doesn’t end well when the both of you think,” Y/N muttered, earning a light shove on the arm as Fred turns his body as well to face you, “How you offend us, dear,” Fred mocks a fake offence, laughing it off as you return a look of annoyance.

Fred cleared his throat, “You know about the party tonight, right?”

Y/N nodded, “You pretty much don’t shut up about it,” George laughed, “Right!” as he takes her goblet to drink from it despite Y/N’s gaze of warning.

“So, we have this game,” Fred started, then taking Y/N’s goblet from George’s hand for him to drink from as well. “And we -”

“if you keep on drinking from my cup, I’m not interested.”

In an instant, Fred brought the goblet down, chuckling slightly as he runs a hand through his hair, “Fair trade.”

“Seriously, what do you want?”

“Well, we know your attraction towards a certain Hufflepuff,” George smirked, raising his eyebrows at Y/N which she responded with an eye roll, “You didn’t really have to tell us, Y/N. We know just how you stare at that pretty boy.” Fred winked, laughing at her exasperated expression.

“And we have been dying to test out these products that we have just invented –” George starts.

“And some of it requires pyrotechnics,”

“Fireworks,”

“Sparks,”

“Those stuff.”

“And you need the help of a Prefect to not let you be caught.” Y/N finished for them as she swallowed the toast that she had been chewing rather slowly as her gaze wandered off to the boy who was silently eating his breakfast, laughing along with fellow Hufflepuffs.

Her breath hitched and she almost choked as their eyes locked, and the twins, noticing how Y/N had spaced out, followed her gaze, smirking afterwards as they landed on Cedric.

“Like I said, we know about your attraction,” Fred tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her attention back to them.

“And we can certainly set up a game that could let you have a shot with him.”

Y/N scoffed, drinking down her goblet, “Please,” she wiped her mouth, “Cedric’s too pure for the games that you have in mind. I bet he wouldn’t even go to the party, knowing you two.”

“Oh, but you are certainly doubting our charm, Y/N!” gasped George.

“George’s pretty good at inviting everyone in our parties, so that means we can surely invite your Diggory.”

Y/N, despite her disbelief, knew that Fred and George wouldn’t stop pestering her, had she not agreed to the deal. That’s why, as she wiped her hands with the napkin on the table, she shook each of the twin’s laid out hand, stating proudly, “You got yourself a deal, Weasleys.”

The day went by quickly as expected. And it certainly did not help that she had classes with the Hufflepuffs, enabling her to involuntarily stare at Cedric - as well as watch the twins successfully invite him to the party, mouth agape in surprise; to which the twins laughed at as George pushed her mouth close, with Fred patting her on the head.

“Told you.”

After a dinner with a very much unoccupied Great Hall, she found herself getting nervous over the party. Not that she wasn’t fond of parties nor was she excited of it, it was more of the curiosity she had withheld on the game Fred and George were planning tonight.

As she enters the rather crimson-lit Common Room, she finds herself being ushered by Lee towards the forming circle at the centre of the room with a glass of Firewhisky being pushed towards her.

“Oh, there she is!” George smirked, taking a swig of the Daisyroot Draught which he retrieved from the table behind him. Fred’s eyes wandered to her figure which was approaching the circle, winking at her as he nods his head towards the direction of the Hufflepuff who was leaning on the wall, hand tucked in the pocket of his trousers as he fixed himself with a Quintin Black.

Their eyes locked yet again, and she swears her heartbeat has increased as Cedric shot him a lazy grin, nodding at her to acknowledge her presence.

As she situated beside Fred who was congruent to Cedric’s position, the twins had introduced the game called 7 Minutes in Heaven (which the twins had explained they knew from Hermione who was a muggleborn, making the witch blush), Y/N couldn’t help but notice how many times she and Cedric have locked eyes. This interaction was not let unnoticed by the twins - however, this was unknown to Y/N.

Especially when as Fred spun the bottle for the next pair after Ginny and Pansy stumbled out of the room with hollers and cheers, George had discreetly pulled his wand from his back pocket, muttering a spell that has made the bottle point at Y/N first, then Cedric afterwards.

“Oh,” George grinned in a taunting manner, “looks like a soft Hufflepuff would be with a feisty Gryffindor.” he says, eyes flickering between the two whose faces - they knew, were as red as the room’s lights.

“Don’t worry, Ced,” Fred assures, sipping on his own bottle of Daisyroot, “we’ll make sure Y/N doesn’t scratch. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Fuck you,” Y/N muttered, standing up as she sees Cedric pushing himself away from the wall, chuckling as he shakes his hair, amused with the situation at hand.

“Well, you know the rules,” George winked, “Lee?”

Lee nodded with a smirk, wand waving to turn on the lamp beside the door that the trio had set up for the game, “It’s free of use.” stated Lee, tucking his wand away as Fred nudges him by his arm, grinning to themselves.

“Don’t worry,” Cedric whispers as he leaned towards her ear as they walked upstairs amidst the whistles and cheers erupting from the group. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“You say that as if hooking up with you is something I should be concerned of.” Y/N scoffed, hands folding on her chest to conceal the wavering pride in her voice.

The tall lad chuckled, “I like to take my chances.”

“Now remember, seven minutes, mates!” Fred called out, “Or you could take longer, just don’t go out of the room after the bell!” George added, making the people laugh. “Thanks for the reminder!” Cedric called out, locking the door as he pushed Y/N inside.

As they found themselves in a rather small room, Cedric sat on the edge of a bed that he internally laughed at - the prankster trio, he thinks, certainly knew what they are doing.

“Look,” Y/N started as she grunts in frustration when Cedric had done nothing besides stare at her in a gaze she was almost lost in as she paces around the room, “I don’t know why you’re agreeing to do this. I mean, I understand if you don’t want to let the twins down and all, but we could just pretend we’re moaning and everything if you’re not comfor -”

“Who said I wasn’t comfortable?”

“Well - uh,” she stammered, stopping in her tracks, “I - I was just guessing!”

She watched as Cedric stood up from the bed, his hands finding its way to her hips as she felt her chin being hoisted up to meet his face, “Well, daddy doesn’t like girls who aren’t sure, Y/N.”

Her eyes widened, “Wha -”

Y/N was cut off as Cedric immediately caught her lips in a needy kiss, pushing her towards the wall, erupting a moan as her back hit the cold stone wall.

Moan after moan erupted as Cedric took no time in undressing her from the dress that she clothed herself with. Hands immediately finding her breasts which were bare the moment the dress had landed the ground, “Merlin, no bra? What a daring little girl you are.”

Cedric’s mouth went down to suck on her breasts, with Y/N arching her back towards him. Her pussy dripping with arousal as she finds herself going dizzy about what’s happening right before her.

She finds herself being hoisted to jump as her legs were wrapped around Cedric’s torso, her hands immediately finding its way to hold on his dark, brunette-blonde hair to tug on the nape, emitting a low groan from Cedric.

A gasp escaped from her as Cedric laid her on the bed as Cedric travelled her body with nothing but just his tongue as he locked eyes with her, “So nice skin, just how soft I imagined it would be.”

He took his time in licking her body, sensually and painfully slow. Making Y/N impatient, knowing about how seven minutes could be just around the corner.

“Don’t be so impatient, angel,” Cedric chuckled, biting on the flesh of her thighs making her jolt up. The lad kissed the exposed skin of her thighs, “I bet that sweet pussy tastes so good,”

Y/N visibly shivered at his words, heart beating fast at the side of Cedric she didn’t know he had. All the while he looked so innocent, she never knew how Cedric had placed her in a trance that had her writhing on every word.

Cedric lunged forward, giving a kitten lick on her clit, which had her arching in such minimal movement. That man, Y/N swears, he would be the death of her. “Hm, angel,” he ghosted a finger over her glistening folds, making Y/N whimper at such feather-light touches.

He laughed, “And here you were moments prior thinking I wouldn’t fuck you.” he rolled his eyes, softly easing a finger inside of her, moaning at how her walls had engulfed his long finger.

All Y/N could respond was a moan, anticipating as she feels his hot breath against her pussy, just where she needs him the most. Cedric was taking his time, curling his finger every now and then to the spot which stimulates a reaction from her.

Her hands started to make its way to her breast, making Cedric halt, “Touch yourself and you’d be getting yourself off.” he warned, making her open her eyes in an instant, shaking her head after as she gripped on the sheets.

“I don’t like how you think you could touch yourself, darling,” Cedric tuts, now opening her wide by scissoring her, “especially when I’m touching you like this.”

Y/N toes curled, wanting to push Cedric’s face towards her cunt so badly. Eventually, her desires were soon answered as Cedric lunges his mouth yet again, his tongue and lips finding its way to her clit as he thrusted an additional finger inside of her.

“Oh, fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, “No, don’t close your eyes,” Cedric said, left hand pinching her on her thighs making her squeal, “look at me, I wanna see you fall apart.”

The Gryffindor so desperately tried in locking eyes with Cedric’s lust-blown gaze, trying so hard to not let her lash flutter against the top of her cheeks. Especially trying so hard when Cedric gives a soft bite to her clit then pulls away for him to play around with the pointer finger of his left hand.

Sooner, her thighs quivered around his head as Cedric simultaneously ate her out while fingering and scissoring her harshly, “So good, Cedric, oh god - oh!” she moans as her hips involuntarily bucked towards him, earning yet another pinch on her right thigh as Cedric bit on her labia.

“Stay bloody still,” Cedric groaned, fastening his pace as her walls tightened around his finger, “Needy little girl, you are,” he laughed, biting his lips as he finger-fucked her in a relentless manner.

“Cedri - oh, gods - please, please, please - shit!” Y/N exclaimed as the coil at the pit of her stomach snaps, Cedric muttering praises on how she had came hard.

He immediately went to lick her cunt as she emptied herself, wincing at the stimulation, eyebrows furrowing together as she feels Cedric pushing another finger in, “Hold that,” he orders, “Just to remind me of the first orgasm tonight.”

Y/N’s head shot up, “F-first?”

“Yes, darling,” he shot her a wicked grin, “you didn’t think we were finished, did you?”

“Cedric - wha - oh, fucking shit!”

“Daddy,” he corrected as his tongue yet again swipes over her folds, tongue lapping at the entrance of her pussy as his finger toyed on her clit, drawing circular figures faster than he did before. The Hufflepuff was devouring over the cries of his name, ego boosting as he knew that he was the one who was making her writhe, the instructions of the game at the far back of his mind.

He had kept his right hand on her stomach, pinning her down as she was trying so hard to pull away from the overbearing sensation. “Baby, you’re shaking,” he smirks, his condescending words going straight towards her cunt. “does daddy make you feel good?”

Y/N merely nodded as her back arches off the bed, she opens her eyes to see Cedric bucking his hips against the mattress to relieve himself off the desire to take you then and there, pounding into you as if there’s no tomorrow.

“Words,” he whispered, eyebrows furrowing at your stubbornness. Y/N exclaimed, shaking out a breathy sigh and moan, “Yes, daddy - yes, please, it’s too much!” she cried, as tears welled up in her eyes; a tear escaping as Cedric pinches her clit in between of his index and middle finger.

Her hands tangled in Cedric’s hair, trying so hard to ease the sensation as she finds herself approaching her high yet again, “Daddy, pleas -”

“You were just telling me you wouldn’t be concerned about me fucking you,” he spat, “now that I am, it’s concerning you now?” he taunted, kneeling on the mattress while holding her hips.

He opened her legs wider, pushing up a leg upwards as he orders for her to hold it above him, enabling the lad to have a deeper access to her overly sensitive cunt. Y/N moaned and whined in a drawl, squealing every so often as she hears the words of Cedric taunt her, “Be the daring girl you are and bloody take it.”

Cedric was practically making out with her cunt, and sooner enough, she was coming yet again on his mouth as she winced when Cedric didn’t stop in lapping at her entrance as if she never came, “Daddy, daddy, please - ” Y/N whimpered, gasping as she felt his tongue push her cum yet again inside her. He was driving her crazy.

“Since you asked nicely,” Cedric smiled as he licked his fingers clean, making Y/N sigh in relief, which was soon replaced by a gasp as she watched him kick himself out of his trousers.

“I’ll be trimming it down to three orgasms tonight.”

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imaginedisish · 2 years

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I Want You To Love Me (Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello friends!!! Here is the Bruce Wayne fic I promised!! This is a combination of the last two Bruce x Reader requests I got (reader finding his journal/a big fight with Bruce), so I hope you guys enjoy!! I based this on “I Want You To Love Me,” by Fiona Apple. It felt like it fit. Next post will most likely be chapter two of “Two Weeks,” (my Din Djarin chaptered fic). Also, lmk if you want a part 2 of this with smut. See you guys soon!

Summary: You and Bruce get into your biggest fight yet, which leads you to find something you shouldn’t have seen.

Warnings: Major mutual pining, lots of angst but eventual fluff. Cursing most likely, mentions of gun shots/wounds/blood/typical cannon violence. Probably some grammatical errors I didn’t catch.

Word Count: 3,095

The rain violently tapped against the window, threatening to break through the glass and flood the room. You almost wish it would. At least that would stop Bruce’s unwavering tirade on your supposedly irresponsible and dangerous behavior.

You had gotten a bit too close to one of the Penguin’s bodyguards during a bust at the Iceberg Lounge. You thought you were helping Bruce, keeping the guards off him as he went in for the Penguin. You underestimated their strength and overestimated yours.

And then, suddenly, as if out of nothing, you were dripping blood. You hadn’t even felt the stinging pain stemming from your waist until a few minutes after the shot had rung out.

You didn’t mean to get shot. That obviously was not a part of your plan. But, it happened. Luckily, the wound was completely external, and only just barely brushed up against you. Alfred was able to patch you up in seconds. It had cost you the mission, but you were simply thankful to be alive.

Bruce, on the other hand, was unfathomably mad. This was easily the angriest you had ever seen him. Once Alfred closed your wound, Bruce began his assault on your decision-making skills.

“What made you think that was gonna work?” He spits, his brows furrowing as he walks towards you. You watch Alfred back out of the bedroom out of the corner of your eye. You push yourself to sit up against the headboard of Bruce’s bed, grabbing at your side as the wound continues to sting.

You inhale deeply, shutting your eyes, mincing your words in a way to avoid further persecution from Bruce. “I thought I could take them,” You explain, your voice shaky in a mixture of pain and fear. “I guess I was wrong.”

Bruce shakes his head as he reaches the foot of the bed. “You guess you were wrong?” He scoffs, his fingers gripping tightly around the footboard, his hands forming fists as his knuckles turn white. “That’s the understatement of the year.” His eyes refuse to break away from yours, ripping into your soul, judging you for the crimes you seemingly committed.

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes as Bruce’s relentless words fill your brain. He was right. He was forced to stop what he was doing to save you. The Penguin got away, and you were left with less leverage and strength than you had started the day with. You had completely ruined the mission. It was all your fault.

“I-I��m sorry,” You choke. You pull your knees into your chest, clutching them tightly inside your arms. “I didn’t mean to-,”

He cuts you off immediately. “But you did, and it cost us everything,” He shouts. He finally breaks his eye contact with you, his head hanging in between his shoulders. You knew this was serious, but not this serious. This was about something else, and you weren’t going to allow him to project his stresses and fears onto you.

“It happened, and it’s over. We’re going to be fine,” You say, letting go of your legs to swing them around to the side of the bed. You place your feet on the wooden floors below, standing up and walking to Bruce’s side. “We’ll keep moving for-,”

He cuts you off again, his eyes opening as his head turns towards you to meet your gaze. “We?” His voice is harsh and heavy. “There’s no we anymore.”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. His words repeat over and over again in your head. This was far too overwhelming for you to handle, especially at a time like this. You blink just once and an army of tears storm down your cheeks.

“There stopped being an us when…” He trails off, as if he’s gauging whether he should say what’s on his mind. “When your brother died.”

You’re immediately brought back to election night. Your brother had just been elected mayor of Gotham. You had convinced Bruce to take the night off, despite his pleas to attend the celebration as Batman, lurking in the shadows. He gave into you, as he so often did, and you both spent the night as civilians.

And then, all hell broke loose. You watched your brother get shot, and from the wings of the stage, you were unable to do anything.

What Bruce didn’t realize was that you blamed yourself. Bruce had been right, and had you listened to him, your brother wouldn’t be dead.

That was the last straw, the thing that set you off. Bruce could attack your abilities, criticize your intelligence, but he could not blame the death of your brother on you. You figured the man who had been your best friend for your entire life would never say something so rude, so aggressive. He took it a step too far, and you weren’t going to let him win now.

You turn away from him and walk towards the door. You pause, turning to face him, hoping he could redeem himself. “So you’re really blaming all this on me?” You ask, your voice cold, laden with anger.

Bruce is silent. He doesn’t look at you. He keeps his hands pressed against the footboard of his bed, his back facing you. His silence is deafening. It says more than enough.

“Wow,” You mutter, forcing your legs to move back towards Bruce. You wanted him to hear you, to see how upset he made you. You stumble as you walk, having forgotten about your injury, and as if by instinct, Bruce rushes over to you. He grabs a hold of your wrist, and you try your best to wiggle out of his grasp, but he doesn’t budge.

“Why are you helping me?” You question, resentment bursting in each word that falls from your lips. “Aren’t I your problem?”

“No,” He barely whispers, as if he didn’t want you to hear him. His words shock you. If it wasn’t you, then what was it? What was making him act this way towards you?

He guides you through the dark, wooden door of his room and out to the hallway. After a few steps, Bruce stops, and twists the knob of a closed door. The room inside is massive, but not as large as Bruce’s. There’s a canopy bed in the center, dawned in white sheets. Most of the walls are covered in wooden bookshelves, and the ones that aren’t reveal the room to be a pale green.

It was beautiful, as if it was made for you.

Once he’s sure you’ve got your footing, he lets go of your wrist. You hate to admit it, but you instantly miss the contact of his skin on yours. It’s a feeling you’ve done your best to fight, a feeling that you’ve pushed down over the years.

You shove the thoughts to the back of your head and wobble over to the bed. You sit down on the plush mattress. It’s far more comfortable than you had anticipated, and you feel like you’re practically melting into the sheets.

But still, despite the room that’s clearly been made to match your tastes, the warm comforter, and Bruce’s denial that you’re to blame, his words continued to plague you.

There stopped being an us when your brother died…

You couldn’t hold back anymore. “If I’m not your problem,” You start, immediately regretting saying anything at all. But there’s no backing down now, you have to commit to the role you’ve given yourself. “Then what is? What’s going on?”

Bruce is silent again. His hands press down into the pockets of his sweatpants as he stares down at his feet. He isn’t going to tell you. He isn’t going to say a single word. You watch him take shallow breaths, one right after another. He finally looks up at you, running a hand through the bangs that lined his forehead.

But again, he doesn’t say a word.

He turns towards the door and grabs the knob. His steps are heavy, as if his mind is struggling to control his body. He’s unsure of himself. It’s clear that part of him wants to stay, to apologize, to make things right, while the other part of him is forever trapped in the revolving door of making Gotham a better place.

“Where are you going?” You ask, forcing him to stop for just a split second. But you already know the answer. There’s a brief moment of silence, where all you can hear is the faint sound of the central air whirling in the hidden vents of the tower. You wonder what else is hiding in this place.

“Out,” He says curtly. You could’ve guessed that.

And then he was gone.

——————————————————————————————————————

You’re starting to get restless sitting in the room by yourself. You aren’t tired, especially not when Bruce is out by himself. Sure, you messed up every now and again, but most of the time you were an asset to Bruce. You remember him saying once that he was shocked that he had ever done the Gotham Project without you. All of that was over now, though.

You decided you’d wait for him in the cave. You needed to finish the discussion. There was no way that this was how things were going to end. And so, you push yourself out of bed, clutching your wound in the process. You were surprised at the lack of pain as you walked towards the door and out into the hallway. The stairs weren’t too much of a problem either.

“You should really be in bed,” Alfred mutters. You turn your head to face him and smile softly. “Master Bruce asked me to make sure you don’t move a muscle. He’s quite worried about your condition.”

“I’m fine, really,” You ensure, turning towards the stairs down to the cave. “I’m just gonna head down for a bit.” Alfred nods in response, and you carefully start down the stairs.

You immediately notice that Bruce’s suit and bike are gone. You knew that it was Batman and not Bruce that had left, but this confirmed it. You had silently hoped that he had just gone for a ride to blow off some steam, but you knew that wasn’t the case. That would never be the case for him. You took a deep breath, hoping that he’d be alright by himself.

You shuffle against the cold ground, and you make a mental note to wear shoes next time you’re down here. You wondered how Bruce spent so much time in the cave. It was uncomfortable, freezing, and rather unwelcoming.

Bruce had left his music on. I Want You To Love Me by Fiona Apple reverberates against the uninsulated walls of the room.

I've waited many years

Every print I left upon the track

Has led me here

And next year it'll be clear

This was only leading me to that

And by that time

I hope that you love me

You Love me

After a few moments of walking around the cave, you finally sit down in a swivel chair in front of a desk. You look down to see a notebook, and you open it up. You start to read through the pages, each filled with data and logs regarding the missions you and Bruce have gone on. It doesn’t seem to be a personal journal, so you continue on.

But you were completely wrong.

You hit a less statistical entry. It started normal, discussing this last night out, but then quickly turned into something else entirely.

It was about you. You know you shouldn’t read it, but you can’t help it. If he won’t tell you what’s going on, you needed to find out for yourself. And so, you started to read the page:

I don’t know what to do. I have to keep her safe. She’s all I have left. If she ends up like her brother, I won’t be able to live with myself.

She got shot tonight, and it was my fault. I didn’t have her back, and if I just stayed a little closer to her the whole thing could have been avoided. I was so angry with myself that I took it out on her…I made her think it was her fault. But it wasn’t, none of this ever has been. This, and all of it, is on me.

I need to get her away from all this. I should’ve never let her join the project. She’s going to be another casualty, another thing I can’t control. The second her brother died, I should have told her to leave me, to leave Gotham. Keeping her here would be selfish. It doesn’t matter that I want her to stay with me, or that she thinks she wants to stay. She deserves to be happy, to live a life that means something.

I didn’t even know how to speak to her tonight. Her sitting in my bed, bleeding out, it was too much to handle. This is it, this is the last straw.

I can’t tell her how I feel, especially not now. It’s too late for that. And this hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before.

But I love her, more than words can say.

You blink away the tears in your eyes and they roll down your cheeks. You were shocked, but it all made sense now. His cold and callous attitude, his silence, the comment about your brother. None of it was rooted in hating you or blaming you. It was rooted in loving you.

Your breaths are shallow and uncontrollable. You feel like you’ve just ran a mile, like you hiked up a mountain and then proceeded to fall down the other side of it. Those were the words you had been waiting to hear for years. Your tears drip softly down your cheeks, dropping to the pages of the journal below.

The sound of a motorcycle screeching off in the distance, followed by the sound of the garage being pulled up, rips you from your thoughts. Your head whips over towards the noise, and you watch as Bruce enters the cave.

He notices you and your tears immediately, quickly parking his bike and taking off his helmet. He rushes over to you, kneeling down to your level, his hands firmly grasping your thighs in an attempt to comfort you.

“Hey,” He whispers, his demeanor completely different from before. “I’m so sorry,” He says, repeating the words as if he’s afraid you can’t hear them.

Bruce turns his head towards the desk and sees the journal. You watch him carefully, noting the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows harshly. He studies the journal a bit more closely, and his eyes widen as he realizes what page you’ve landed on.

You take a deep breath, ready to apologize as firmly and intensely as you possibly can. You wipe your tears away. “Listen, I didn’t mean-,”

“I love you,” He cuts you off. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest. You’re shocked at his kindness. His hands grip your thighs a bit tighter. “You deserve to hear it from me.”

“Bruce, I-,”

He cuts you off again, “But you need to leave. I can’t lose you too.” You can see the tears welling up in his eyes. There’s a soft, bittersweet smile playing upon his lips as his fights back his tears. “I love you so much, you have no idea…” He trails off, his eyes gazing deeply into yours. He sniffles a bit, tears finally spilling down his cheeks.

“I love you too, Bruce,” You whisper. “But I’m not leaving,” You say firmly, bringing a hand up to his cheek to swipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb.

His hands leave your thighs and he stands up. You shiver at the lack of contact, instantly being reminded of the frigid temperature of the cave. You stand up and follow him as he walks over towards the other side of the room. He’s pacing nervously, unsure of what to do or say next.

“You’re not supposed to love me,” He says, his back to you as he rests his hands against an open spot on a table.

You shake your head. “I’ve loved you since we first met, Bruce,” You say, apprehensively taking a step closer to him. “And you aren’t going to lose me, I promise.”

He whips around to face you, his eyes red from exhaustion and crying. “You can’t promise that, you know you can’t.” He takes a step towards you, his hand coming up to rest on the nape of your neck. The touch sends chills down your spine. It was something you had wanted to feel for so long. “If I can’t protect you, then-,”

You cut him off this time, “I can protect myself,” You say, shivering as Bruce’s other hand snakes around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. You were just inches away from his face, from his lips. The tension was palpable. “I’m staying. It’s not up for debate.” Your words are final, unwavering, firm. You’re not quite sure how you were able to get them out, given how Bruce continues to close the space between you and him.

“Why do you want this?” He questions, his breath brushing against your cheek. He looks at you in disbelief. “You could live wherever you want, I’d make sure of that.”

You smile softly. “Because it wouldn’t be living without you.”

And with that, his lips come crashing down onto yours. The tension resolves itself, melting away as he pushes himself closer to you, as if being flush against you just wasn’t enough. Bruce’s hand makes its way under your shirt, his fingers trailing across the skin of your back.

His lips part from yours, but his arms keep you pressed against his chest. He pulls you in tighter as his head burrows into the crook of your neck. He’s savoring you, cherishing you, as if in seconds you’ll turn to dust, disappear into nothing.

His lips brush against your ears. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” He whispers.

“Me too.”

And now you had it.

And I know none of this'll matter in the long run

But I know a sound is still a sound around no-one

And while I'm in this body I want somebody to want

And I want what I want

And I want you to love me

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year

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Mafia!Bruce Wayne x male!reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne, the main mafia boss in the Gotham city, is happy with his husband (Y/N). That is, until his husband is taken and Bruce nearly loses it.

Warnings: Violence, guns, descriptions of torture, Bruce being a good husband, kidnapping,

" Bruce! Five more minutes, please... " (Y/N) pleaded with his husband. It was early in the morning, a Friday none the less.

" I can't hun, I am already late. You are going to be late too. " Bruce said tying his tie.

" I won't, please Bruce. " (Y/N) said in a singsong tone and with a sweetest smile he could muster up.

Bruce chuckled at the attempts of his husband to keep him in bed longer. He sat on the edge of the bed and brought (Y/N) closer. He leaned down and gave (Y/N) a soft kiss on the lips.

" I have nothing in the evening, so we can spend evening doing what you want. How does that sound? " Bruce said, nuzzling his cheek against (Y/N)'s.

" You know me too well B. " (Y/N) said nuzzling his face into Bruce's neck and taking a sniff of his cologne.

" This cologne? "

" What? "

" It stinks. "

Bruce gently laid (Y/N) down and tucked him again.

" I will call you later so you can get ready for work hun. "

" Thanks Bruce. "

Bruce gave his husband on last kiss on the lips and left their bedroom with a smile on his face. His husband really has him wrapped around his finger and he wasn't even aware of it. Bruce chuckled to himself and shook his head.

His husband has the biggest mafia boss in Gotham city wrapped around his little finger and he is not even aware of that power. Unfortunately, some people also realized that power, the people who shouldn't be aware of it. Bruce is proud husband and he is not afraid to show it or to say it, but there were some concerns Bruce had.

There is apparently a new mafia boss on the horizon. Bruce wasn't worried that much because he made it clear that his husband is off limits and not to mention that his husband has a 2 bodyguards that watch from afar. (Y/N) had said he didn't want bodyguards, but Bruce had to put his foot down when it came to his protection.

(Y/N) had agreed to have bodyguards, but from afar. He didn't really like the fact that people were so close to him. So him and Bruce reached a compromise. Two bodyguards would be watching from a distance.

Now, Bruce was being driven to the meeting by his head bodyguard. He really didn't want to meet with him, he was supposed to have a day off and take his husband out for dinner after work, but this new mafia boss wanted to meet with Bruce Wayne, because Bruce controls this city and if anybody new wanted to come here and do business, they would have to come to Bruce Wayne first.

" Mister Wayne, if you could only hear me out- "

" I have heard you, mister King, I have, but I won't change the prices. All the prices are the same for everyone who wish to do business here. I can't give you a discount and besides, the product is not that good. "

Mister King sighed and took a sip of his drinks. He has heard about the brutality of Bruce Wayne, he wasn't dumb and he wasn't going to piss the Prince of Gotham off. Or so he thought until he remembered that Bruce Wayne has a husband, (Y/N) if he recalls the name correctly.

Bruce looked at his watch and noticed that it was (Y/N)'s break.

" If you are going to excuse me, I need to make a phone call. "

King wasn't dumb enough to protest and let Bruce leave the room to make a call. Bruce was waiting for his husband to pick and smiled once he heard (Y/N)'s voice.

" Hey B. "

" Hey hun, I just wanted to hear your voice. Did you make it on time? "

" I did, I was actually 15 minutes early. "

" Really? " Bruce asked, a bit suspiciously.

" Yes Bruce, I came 15 minutes earlier. "

" Did you eat anything? "

" I did. Alfred made me some Cesar salad and it was great. You need to give Alfred a raise. "

" I will, don't worry. "

Bruce could sense (Y/N)'s smile from a mile away.

" And you B? How is work? "

" Not bad, we just took a break from a meeting and I wanted to see how you are doing. "

" Boring office work, nothing interesting. Oh, I also know what are we going to do when you get home! "

" What is that hun? " Bruce asked, turning to look at the other mafia boss who was texting on his phone.

" We can make a pillow fort and cuddle or we can take a walk around the park. I wasn't there for so long, I heard that there were ducklings Bruce. Ducklings. "

Bruce smiled and simply replied with sure.

" Okay, I have to go, love you B. "

Bruce melted and replied with a love you and hanged up.

" Sorry about that, mister King, lets continue. "

(Y/N) was happy beyond belief. He was finally done with his work and he was going to spend evening with Bruce for the first time in weeks. Bruce's work schedule wasn't a 9 to 5 like (Y/N)'s is and that meant long hours and his husband coming in late during the night, while (Y/N) is sleeping.

He said goodbye to his coworkers and left the office. It got a bit colder and (Y/N) put his coat up higher. He noticed that the bodyguards weren't there. He remembered Bruce's words. If there are no bodyguards, go to a crowded place and try to blend and call him.

Just as he turned around he noticed somebody behind him. He tried to turn around, but a swift punch with the back of the gun to his nape rendered him unconscious. He fell down hard with a thud. He was out like a light.

The man took his phone and sent a text to his boss, writing it's done. Then another man came and they tied (Y/N)'s hands behind his back, gagging him and putting a bag over his head, but not before throwing the phone out, but making sure to leave it functional, as per boss's instructions.

They were all hesitant to do so, knowing that (Y/N) Wayne is Bruce Wayne's husband and that if he was harmed in any way, shape or form there will be hell to pay, but their boss wanted to send a message. He wanted to say that he was superior to the Prince of Gotham. They put (Y/N) at the back of a van and drove off to the chosen location.

Now Bruce was losing his mind. (Y/N) was supposed to be back home, but he wasn't picking up his phone. He called Alfred and the man said that (Y/N) didn't call him either. Then he called the bodyguards who were knocked out.

After that, Bruce wanted to have his phone tracked to see where his husband is. If the bodyguards were knocked out, then he was kidnapped, Bruce had no doubt about it. Now he needs to figure out, where he was taken and who took him. Once he answers the who, he will answer the why. And not to mention the hell will put the kidnapper through.

Bruce took a deep breath. He can't do things with out a plan. With his husband in question, Bruce can't make any mistakes or it will backfire. Now, he needs to send his people to his work and he needs to see what happened. Who would be dumb enough to kidnap Bruce Wayne's husband? Who?

Bruce's mind thought of the mafia boss he had a business meeting with, the angry look on his face when Bruce denied him what he wanted... Was that man really dumb to kidnap his husband in broad daylight?

Bruce clicked his tongue as he was driving to (Y/N)'s workplace. He was anxious now. He called (Y/N)'s phone once more. He froze oce he heard the familiar ringtone. He walked to the phone and kneeled down. He hanged up and rubbed his face. Nope.

" There are cameras around here, I want video footage. And have a team on standby. When I find the the guy who did this... "

" Sir? "

" Do what I just said and make sure that medical wing is ready for (Y/N). "

" Yes sir. "

(Y/N) blinked, opening his eyes. He tried to move his arms, but they were bound behind the chair. He frowned, but then realized that he was kidnapped. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

What did Bruce tell him? Don't show them that you are afraid and try to get along with them.

(Y/N) will do that until he is saved. He knows that Bruce will search the entire city from top to bottom to find him. He looked around to see where he is. It looked like an abandoned warehouse. He could hear the sea outside. Okay, he was on the docks then. All right, it's not so bad, but the docks were used for executions, so it was not so good after all.

He took another deep breath. Bruce was going to find before something were to happen to him. He was going to remain positive and not pessimistic.

(Y/N) looked up when he heard footsteps coming towards him. (Y/N) didn't recognize the man at all. He told himself to remain calm. He was not going to show fear.

" So this is the famous (Y/N) Wayne. I have to say, you truly are beautiful as they say. "

(Y/N) tried to remain as still as possible as the man caressed his face the way only Bruce can. He wasn't going to do anything stupid enough to get him killed. Bruce was going to find him. He would hold onto that thought for as long as he could.

" Your husband wouldn't budge with a deal, so I need to use you as a leverage. "

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response, afraid that if he were to say something, it would be something snarky and sassy. And that wouldn't be so good in this situation.

A slap to his face brought him back to reality. He licked his lips, feeling the blood on his lip. Asshole.

" When I am talking to you, you are to respond. Clear? "

" Yup. "

" Good. "

" Sir we have a location! "

Bruce jumped up to see the location pop up on a computer. It was the docks.

" Take the team and lets go! If the team gets there first, tell them to wait for me! "

The bodyguards nodded and left to gear up and to leave. It was the middle of the night and (Y/N) should have been in bed with him, not on the docks. Bruce entered his car and sped all the way to the docks, his men in the cars behind him. The team that Bruce ordered to be on a standby, was already on the location. Bruce felt his fingers twitching and his body being on edge. He was ready for a fight. He parked quietly next to the team and waited until everyone came.

" I would like to make this very clear. Now that we know who the perp is, I want him alive and (Y/N) is not to be harmed in any way. Am I clear? " The men nodded quickly and Bruce nodded. He took out his gun and looked at the big warehouse.

" I am coming hun, I am coming. " Bruce told himself before he led the team.

(Y/N) was in pain. A lot of pain. He was hit all over his body and face. He was sure that something was broken. It was hard to breath, so he concluded that it must have been the ribs. His nose was in no better shape and his lips were bloody. He was also hit in the head, making the side of it bleed.

He was close to breaking. He couldn't take this anymore. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Come on Bruce. (Y/N) needed him to save him now, he was in too much pain and wasn't as strong as Bruce. He is strong mentally and physically and could withstand any type of torture. But (Y/N)? Nope.

" Did we break your spirit so quickly? "

(Y/N) didn't have time to respond before he was kicked and thrown back, falling down onto his hands. He grunted from the impact, heaving slightly from the lack of air.

He closed his eyes, trying not to cry. The amount of pain he felt in that moment was indescribable. The pain shot to every single part of his body and he groaned.

" (Y/N)! "

(Y/N) opened his eyes when he heard Bruce's voice. Gunshots rang out and (Y/N) flinched. Bruce ran to him and quickly put the chair back up and cut the ropes on his legs and arms. Bruce quickly hugged him and kissed the top of his head, putting (Y/N)'s in his chest, making sure he didn't saw the carnage.

" Bruce... " (Y/N) sobbed, clutching tightly to Bruce.

" It's okay, we are going to home now, okay hun? "

(Y/N) nodded and Bruce picked him up. Bodyguards moved out of the way to let their boss through. Their boss was a good boss even before (Y/N) came into the picture, but once (Y/N) came into the picture, Bruce became even more human. And even the bodyguards were protective of (Y/N). That may sound weird, because they are supposed to, but there was something about (Y/N) that made him so loveable and easy to hangout with. He was nice to the bodyguards that were assigned to him, despite not wanting anyone to follow him.

" He is going to fully recover. He has bruises all over his body, his ribs were slightly cracked, but just make sure to have something cold as ice on them for the first few days and don't let him take any painkillers for the first 48 hours. And make sure he is laying down it's better for the ribs. " The doctor said.

" And what about his head? There was bleeding. "

" No concussion thankfully. Now, make sure he rests because of the ribs. "

" I will, thank you doctor. "

Doctor nodded and Bruce went inside where (Y/N) was laying in the bed. He was in their bedroom and Bruce felt relaxed. (Y/N) was back where he is supposed to be, in their home, in their bedroom. Bruce sat down on the edge, smiling at his husband who gripped Bruce's hand tightly.

" What did the doctor say? "

" You are going to be fine and make full recovery. We just have to ice your ribs and for the next 48 hours not take any painkillers. "

(Y/N) nodded and looked down on his lap.

" And that so called mafia boss? "

" Don't worry about him, he can't hurt you anymore. "

(Y/N) nodded once more and moved over for Bruce.

" Come on, I need some affection Bruce. "

Bruce smiled even more and laid down next to him, ever so gently embracing him. Bruce gently kissed (Y/N)'s cheek and wished him good night. Together they fell asleep, breathing as one and Gotham could breath easier tonight, knowing that Bruce Wayne's sunshine was safe and sound.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #robert pattinson x male reader #x male reader #fluff #some angst #but not much #batman 2022

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halesinger · 7 months

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⟡ 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 making art with you <3

✦ jasper is the type to put paint on your face instead of the canvas.

. you're painting your own canvas then out of nowhere you feel something cold and wet on your left cheek. you look over to jasper to see a shit-eating grin on his face and red paint smudged on his finger.

✦ rosalie is secretly a very talented artist.

. "your's is really pretty." rosalie's voice cut through your train of thought on what color you were going to use next. you smiled at her and gave a quiet 'thank you' in response. "i don't really like mine that much." you heard rosalie mutter. but when you look over the most gorgeous, realistic painting of the outside scenery is on her canvas.

✦ alice isn't the best painter but still enjoys it.

. she lightheartedly laughed at her poor excuse for a painting. you grinned along, still painting your own canvas of art. her laughter eventually died out so you looked over, catching her staring at you with a look of adoration across her features. "what?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. alice scooted closer and gave you a tight hug. "you're the best piece of art." she whispered.

✦ emmett is a messy painter.

. you were showing emmett techniques to make different textures on the canvases, but now he made it seem like he was just flinging the paint everywhere. "emmett!" you shrieked as he got some on your shirt. he laughed loudly at your reaction and continued shaking the brush. thank god you decided to place a towel down before this.

✦ edward would rather paint on your arm than the actual canvas.

. the canvases were long forgotten about, because edward wanted to see if the paint would look the same on your skin as the canvas. now it has just turned into him doodling on your arm. you giggled softly as the paint brush tickled a sensitive spot, causing edward to smile. "how does this look?" he asked quietly. you nodded in response and he continued moving up your arm to paint.

↳ sorry jasper's is short, couldn't think of anything for him. hope you enjoyed! :)

⟡ likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

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uselesssomebody · 1 year

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𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕣 - cedric diggory x reader

complete masterlist | harry potter masterlist

words || 𝟚𝕜

series masterlist || week to all hallows' eve

summary || in which the reader and cedric's friends like to play matchmaker

a/n || oh my god? more? but this time, it's part of a multifandom series! ➵ part of my 'week to hallows' eve' halloween countdown. check out the masterlist ^ ➵ i've never watched titanic; can you tell? ➵ i wrote this super late a night so please don't be mad if it is a little ass ➵ this was inspired by a convo with a friend but i realize that it is also veryyy similar to @creativepromptsforwriting halloween prompt (#418) & a audio on the g.w.a. subreddit so great minds think alike i.g. ➵ not yet proofread ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff

her friends had been quite adamant about the outfit that she was currently wearing. it was a period-type: long dress, hair pinned up into a half up-do. it was supposed to be the character of rose from the titanic. the red, seemingly expensive, fabric of her dress wrapped around her figure snugly, and she couldn’t help but find herself gazing just a bit too long at her own reflection in the mirror.

“move your hair out ‘f your face, hon.” she turned to look at her good friend, mavis williams, who was currently giddy at the thought of painting her friend’s face. she complied, pushing the straggling locks of hair on her face behind her ears. she tries to sit as still as possible as mavie attempted to place the light dust of blush on her cheeks and accentuated her eyes just slightly by adding a swipe of eyeliner to each. she marveled at her friend’s ability, knowing that she would have used much more time to complete the same task to the level at which her friend could.

after she was done, she stood up to smooth the wrinkles in her dress, grasping on the necklace at the vanity while mavie went on to do her own makeup - having dressed as cher from their collective favorite movie: clueless.

dottie had left about a half-hour ago to meet up with her ravenclaw friends, and martha had just left to go find her boyfriend. on the other hand, mavie and herself would meet with mavie’s hufflepuff boyfriend, and all three of them would head down to the gryffindor common room, where fred and george, with the help of angelina johnson, had organized a halloween party - advertised as transcending house boundaries, cause no one should be able to recognize anyone anyways.

she was excited to go, not seeing her own friends outside of classes that much and now finally getting a chance. she also did love the weasleys’ parties, a common sentiment shared through the school.

she watched as mavie finished up her own outfit, popping the signature stick of gum in her mouth, before - as if on cue - they both heard a knock at the door. mavie rises up, a smile she tries to suppress still beaming over her cheeks, as she opened the door and greeted her boyfriend. well, she says greeted - the girl pulled him into a jovial kiss almost immediately, having not been able to spend much time with him over the past few weeks. after the show, she joined the cute couple, and nodded at her friend’s boyfriend. he’s quick to greet her, friendly smile ever-present on his face.

“hey, connor! josh, right?” she refers to cher’s love interest in the movie, pointing at his boring-for-anyone-else outfit. truly, it didn’t work without the appearance of his girlfriend, but it didn’t really seem like the two of them would separate for much time tonight anyways.

as soon as they near the stairs, they can already hear the heavy bustling and chatter standard of a weasley party, seeing the common room flooded with people in all sorts of costumes as they ventured down. many were the standard: zombies, vampires, werewolves. there were a few fairies, elves and the like. then, there was an assortment of movie and tv characters. she glanced around for her friends, immediately finding dottie - who was in a white shirt and tight corset - with her ravenclaw friends, emulating a team of bloodthirsty pirates. martha went to greet her, with her boyfriend in tow, and she marveled at the cute outfit: baby and johnny from dirty dancing.

her friends were all talking amongst themselves, being shockingly distant to her and, for the life of her, she couldn’t tell why. deciding to ignore it, she broke away to go find the refreshments counter - a butterbeer had never sounded better. she filled a glass with the stuff - the sweet drink having been infused with something slightly more potent to really make this a party, and she absentmindedly glanced at who else was attending.

well, she says absentmindedly, but, truly, she’s looking for one person: cedric diggory. see, the girl had had an almost embarrassing crush on the boy for some time now, and the only people who knew that were her dorm-mates and close friends. half the reason she’d come to this party was because mavie had heard that he’d be here and, as pitiful as it was, she was really excited to see him.

“’lright there?” she’s broken out of her thoughts by a loud voice - voices. in the blink of an eye, she’s surrounded by hogwart’s double trouble, and fred and george both have somewhat expectant looks on their faces.

“hmm? yeah, yeah, i’m great! ‘t’s a nice party.” she nods back at them, plastering a smile to make it look like she was more tuned in to their conversation that she actually was.

“how come you sound surprised? all our parties are nice -” started fred, but george was quick to cut to the chase, knowing they had other guests to talk to (see: bother).

“we just wanted to say that you’ve got a cute outfit. pretty original of a couple this year, y’know? most of these other ones are pretty similar.” she’s nodding along, but, suddenly processing what they said, she’s a bit confused.

“couple? wait, what?” fred and george look at her for a moment, before looking at each other.

“uh, jack? like jack & rose?”

“yeah, we tend to zone out when dad puts muggle movies on but even we know that one.” then, suddenly fred smacks his brother’s shoulder.

“oh, george, she’s just messing with us,” if there was one thing the weasleys hated, it was getting beat at their own game of sarcasm, “good one, but you won’t pull fast one over good ol’ freddie that easily.” he laughs at his own comment, before him and his brother waved her off. except, the issue was that she truly had no idea what they were talking about. of course, she was well aware of the implication of jack when she was rose, but it was fairly obvious that she had come alone, right? and that jack, in fact, was not here with her?

she figured that the boys had just been messing with her, deciding to gulp down the rest of her butterbeer and make her way back to dottie. she was struggling with clipping on her corset as she spoke with a friend, so she went up behind her and helped her out.

“hey, dot.” she mumbles, and she tightens the clasp. her friend gives her a sweet smile of gratitude. suddenly, dot’s friend gasps and looks at her.

“oh my god, your guys’ costumes are so cute!” she smiles back at the friend, a little confused by her way of speaking but grateful nonetheless.

“yeah, haha, thanks. mavie really helped me out and, honestly, dot looks like she’s really gone all out for this -”

“oh, no, not dot!” the friend’s quick to clarify, “i mean the handsome jack to your beautiful rose.” she sent a playful wink to her confused face and, when she turns to look at dottie, she sees her suppressing a smile.

“dot? dot, what did you do?” she hisses to her friend, and all she does in response is shake her head.

“ask mavie and connor, it was their idea!”

“what was?” dot just shrugged. a little exasperated now, she left and set off on the quest to find mavis, infinitely more confused now than she was before.

as she weaved her way through the groups of people, she found herself looking back to apologize to someone whose toes she'd stepped on, prompting her to walk right into someone. they grasp at her biceps to steady her, a polite litany of apologies already leaving their mouth. as soon as she hears them speak, she recognizes them, hoping her ears haven’t gone too red.

“it’s - um, cedric, you’re fine. it was my fault, i wasn’t looking-” as she glances down to look at his own outfit, she stops. he does the same. for a moment, they’re both examining the other, the gears in their heads clicking into place with each second.

“connor…”

“i’m gonna kill mavie.” they both mutter the names of their traitors, before cedric looks up at her, and laughs lightly.

“god, i’m so sorry, this must be so awkward.” she immediately goes to shake her head, laughing as well.

“no! it’s not awkward. just…oh, mavie’s always been a bit extra about things like this.” she mumbles, trying to find a way to diffuse the situation. luckily, cedric’s much better at that then she is as, after taking a half-step back, he daintily grabs her hand in his and presses it lightly to his lips.

“rose.” he says it with affection, and she blinks, having to remind herself that it’s for the sake of the bit.

“jack.” she curtsies lightly in response, hoping the low light covers her blush.

“i was just about to get myself a drink, would you like one?” god, he’s such a damn gentleman, she thinks, before shaking her head.

“i’ve already had one, but i’ll go with you, if you don’t mind?” there’s the faintest hint of desperation in her voice, and she’s just hoping to god he doesn’t pick it up.

“that’d be lovely.” he holds his arm out for her, and she takes it delicately, knowing anything more would come off as too intimate. he’s really playing into the bit.

after getting himself a drink, they find seats near the edge of the room, the place slightly more reclusive and giving themselves an environment to talk.

“how’s your night been so far?” he asks conversationally. she sighs in faux exasperation.

“it’s felt pretty orchestrated, to be completely honest,” he laughs, and she does too, “y’know, mavie’s always trying to play matchmaker, but i usually figure out her ploys ahead of time.” he nods in agreeance.

“it’s the same with connor - he seems to be a bad influence on his girlfriend.” he says it in humor, with a fake accusatory tone.

“oh, i’m sure it’s the other way around.” there’s a beat of silence.

“we do make a cute couple.” he lingered on the word, before rephrasing, “a cute couple’s costume.” then, having noticed her face perk up at the first sentence and then again depress at the next, he attempts to hide a smile behind his glass, “i think we’d make a cute couple too.” she stares at him with narrow eyes for a moment.

“y’think so?” it’s a mumble, because she really, really hopes he isn’t playing games with her right now. he’s silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. his usual air of confidence had dwindled slightly, and she looked at him with big, questioning eyes.

“i’d - uh, i’d hope we make a cute couple.”

“you hope?” he laughs, before shaking his head and moving closer to her.

“i am trying to ask you out here. can ya, uh, help me out?” the last bit’s a joke, but she’s too busy processing his first sentence to notice.

“you - you want to ask me out?” she’s baffled, having assumed that all her previous affections towards him had been one-sided.

“i mean, if you’d let me. ever since connor introduced us, i thought you were just so sweet and i - uh - i guess i just didn’t have the courage before.” still in shock, she doesn’t answer for another moment, and he looks down at the ground, “i’m sorry, you can just say no, i didn’t -”

“no!” he deflated at the exclamation, ready to accept the rejection, before she shook her head, taking his hand, “no, i mean yes! i’d love to go out with you.” he looks confused, and it makes her laugh, “cedric, please. i would really enjoy going on a date with you.” he smiles, pressing another soft kiss to her hand.

“y’think we should tell them that this worked?” he said after a moment, in reference to mavie and connor. her eyes widened.

“oh, absolutely not!”

#week to hallows' eve #halloween #matchmaker #harry potter imagine #harry potter #cedric diggory #cedric diggory oneshot #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #robert pattinson

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yeollie-plz · 1 year

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Masterlist

Here is my masterlist with all my works! Enjoy reading!

Requests are open! Rules here!

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waynewifey · 9 months

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aftermath — b.w

part one - ‘dear mr. wayne’

part two - ‘aftermath’

part three. - ‘aporia’

summary: you escaped that warehouse, but part of you died in there. now, your husband helps you grief your own loss while trying to not murder your relationship.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: drama & angst romance

warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol; mentions of ptsd, anxiety and it’s symptoms; hospital setting; dubious science; dubious law enforcement

word count: 2.9k

A/N: thank you for all the positive feedback on part 1! there will be a part three because this post would get too long, so let me know if you’ll like to be tagged in that. my biggest challenge writing this was trying to give bruce the start of a redemption arc, please tell me if you think it worked. comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!

gotham, USA.

the continuous beeping sound wakes you up.

your eyes are still closed, blocking the intense light over your head. your senses are taken by the familiar scent: sandalwood, cinnamon and lemongrass soap. it almost feels like you're home.

but your feet are senseless from the cold and the bedsheets faintly smell like chlorine. there's a pinching ache in your arm and the scenario is complete. oh how you hate hospitals.

"how are you feeling?" back at home, bruce had learned the difference in your breathing as you woke up, which made pretending to sleep hard enough for you to give up. you open your eyes, finding yourself in a luxurious room. if it wasn't for the IV on your left side, it could easily be mistaken for a five star hotel.

bruce sat at a large light green armchair, about four feet from your left hand. you couldn't tell by his voice, but he looked exhausted. for once, he's wearing sweatpants. the puffy face and swollen eyes show he hasn't had much sleep. you, on the other hand, feel like you've slept for a thousand years.

"i have no idea. what's up with me?" his sigh has your heart racing and the fear of being a liability falls over you. a comforting hand lays on yours, his warms fingers grounding you to remember the last time you were awake. it felt like a nightmare and you desperately hoped it was. instead, the pain comes in flashes, the image of your husband being shot and the feeling of hitting ice cold water do too. it's all just so horrible you wish it wasn't real.

"they told me you were going to be fine, but i don't know." bruce feels as if a burden has come off his chest finally seeing you move. the last couple of days have been a torture of expectation and blame for him. "the doctor had you in an induced coma. you had a concussion on the river. your stomach was stitched up. he said..." he stops for a moment, this is obviously way too hard for him to go through again. bruce hasn't left the room ever since he was discharged. everyday, for two weeks, he kept overthinking the night before and the day during. if he had stayed up and talked about your relationship, you wouldn't be in that bed. if he looked for you in the morning, if he noticed your absence at work, if he hadn't put his phone on silent mode... there were a million of things that he could've done different so the most important person in his world wouldn't have gone through all of that. "he said the ptsd would worsen your recovery. this morning the nurses told me you were better, so i have to believe them. that's my only hope."

you need a moment to take in the words, finally deciding that you didn't want to discuss your health. there were way better people to pay attention to that in the building and it would only make you anxious. you can't help but stare at his eyes, your mind bringing up the image of your husband choking the man that kept you hostage.

"you almost killed him." the tone is of disapproval, bruce couldn't be any more confused. he frowns. bile arises from his stomach leaving a acid taste to his mouth.

"i would've, of course i would. y/n, you had no idea what i would do for you. i would fight the devil himself if it meant keeping you safe. that's why i do what i do. the batman, the politics, it's all for you. if i can make this world 1% better for you, for our children, to live on, it's worth it." his gulp is loud, adam's apple going up and down, showing how dry his throat was. the following words have his voice shaking, almost disappearing. "but fate keeps telling me that i'm not enough. no matter what i do, you keep getting hurt and i just-" bruce stares the floor. that's something he always did when saying harsh things, avoiding eye contact and not letting tears slip away. however, this time it doesn't work at all. he can hear his heart tearing up with every syllable, the physical pain striking his chest. he wants to beg you to forgive him, but there is a noble thing to do. his words are cut off by the creaking of the door and the doctor's footsteps. he's smiling, like this isn't hell. bruce shrinks into the couch, making himself ignorable.

"so... i have good news!" the blonde says, clipboard in hand. "we need to run some other tests and an x-ray, but you seem to be healing pretty well. we'll hold you in for a couple of days just to make sure there aren't any complications with your body and then you can go home. how are you feeling so far?"

you're surprised by the sudden change in the conversation and your brain needs a moment to think about something helpful. you do a body scan trying to identify any pain, but overall you feel good.

"hungry. like, starving." the doctor smiles, saying he'll get you a meal as soon as possible. he warns you that you may not be able to eat much just yet, something about your stomach shrinking. you nod, already feeling irritated by the recovery process. then he leaves and there's a loud silence until you get back on the previous topic.

"you just what?" you expect bruce to sit correctly again, but he doesn't. he looks so small in the shadows, so comfortable. you really don't want to talk about that anymore, but curiosity takes over. he doesn't respond immediately, so your heart pounds over the anxiety of hearing bad news. suddenly you feel so tired, you want him to take over all the decisions like he usually does. today, though, he seems open to suggestions, like his own ideas weren't suitable. how could you know someone so well but still have no idea what's on his mind?

"i think maybe you shouldn't be associated with me. any part of me." the world stops with your breathing. bruce wishes he could take it back. going over this conversation in his head made it seem easier to say out loud. you've been married for three years. you knew his ambitions for even longer. you chose this life and he has no right to take that from you. still, the ring on your finger weighs you down.

— DENIAL

you've learned to appreciate the winter winds. at the top of the wayne tower there were barely any, but tonight they caress your face with the gift of numbness. breathing in is both refreshing and painful. the scratched teacup warms your fingers, a small memoir from your childhood home, from times that won't ever come back. you used to be down there, frightened by dark alleys and gunshots. now you're on top of the world and nothing, not even that psychopath, can take that from you. you did relearn discomfort. ache. cold. it all made you appreciate life even more. in fact, the month that followed your hospital discharge was pure bliss. something about renewal, about rebirth.

bruce watched you from the living room, the wrinkled glass distorting your silhouette in the balcony. that was a good representation of how he currently saw you, slightly blurred and shaken. his cup would usually hold whiskey, neat, but it holds coffee instead. you keep saying you're fine and waking up screaming in the middle of the night. then he would hold you and you would be actually fine. so now he's staying awake through the night, sleeping three or four hours during the day while alfred takes care of you. of course they don't let you know, because you've denied every explicit help. as you get ready to sleep, bruce gets ready to stay in bed through the night, alone with his thoughts. part of him was scared to sleep. he was sleeping when you were taken, there's no way he would let that happen again.

it has been almost a year since he stopped patrolling the city. the news cover murders and robberies every day. alfred makes sure to come up with something for both bruce and you to do at those hours. he's taken a pause in promoting his candidacy, he couldn't handle the public eye for now. still, the marketing team insists that your kidnapping was good media, even though he never officially spoke on it. they publish notes about being away, about taking care of family. he can't see how that could be good in any way.

you open the glass doors, flashing your husband a sweet smile. you're in a red silk robe and your hair is still perfectly done. perfectionism was one of the side effects, as one may call it, of the trauma. you visited a psychiatrist about a month ago, since bruce insisted on it, and he marked all of the habits that made you happy as unhealthy. you never told bruce what was said in that appointment in hopes that he'll get over it. him treating you like a porcelain doll made you nauseous.

"ready for bed?" you ask, standing behind the couch and hugging his shoulders. you breathe in his scent, remembering the day you met. you were an executive in an overseas wayne enterprises headquarters that had just gotten transferred to gotham. they offered you six figures to take the second in command position, so you obviously got to know the first in command. in the beginning, you honestly thought he was an entitled brat that didn't work at all. overtime, you realised how much he cared about the company and how much he was pining over you. you gave him an opening and he asked you out. six months into the relationship, he told you about batman. he knew, somehow, that you would be forever.

he sets in bed while you're touching up in the bathroom. the night had to be perfect. you've hadn't made love ever since the fight and ovulation week had gotten you a little crazy. you check yourself in the mirror, thanking the hormones making you sexy. you crawl into his side, slower than needed, hair falling over the shoulder. "hi" you whisper, sitting diagonally from him and cuddling a bit. he says hi back, with a chuckle. you give him a little peck, which is all you've been doing for all of this time. he stays still, not pulling back but also not doing anything either. you try to take it as a good sign. your lips then reach his jawline and neck, leaving wet kisses all over his skin. your hands touch his shirt and go underneath it, tracing your fingers along his defined abdomen. a hand holds your arm, pushing you away. your smile fades and you frown your face to him.

"touch me, bruce" you not so much ask, it's more like a plead. he sighs, channelling all his will to stick with his decision. he puts a string of your hair behind your ear and you think he's going to properly kiss you.

"i don't think we should do this. you're not well enough yet." he doesn't sound so certain, but it hits you like a hard brick wall. this is harder for him than he lets it show, he's a man after all. even so, he can't see you like that for the moment. he sees you scattered and feels like it's his responsibility to assemble you again.

"i'm perfectly fine." you state like a grumpy proud child who's just lost a soccer tournament. he sees right through it.

"you're not, you're in denial." that simple word makes your mood swing: denial. it's the same thing the stupid psychiatrist told you. you can even hear his smoker's voice echoing in the office. it isn't true. you got over it, that's all. maybe some people take more time to do so, but you did just like that. you had a life to get back to.

you get off the bed and pull your robe tight again. "i'm sleeping in the guest room. good night." he doesn't follow and lets you be. in all honesty, he didn't know if he would have the strength to turn you down a second time.

bruce tries to fight the tiredness. even with caffeine running high in his blood system, he falls asleep for a while. the guest room is far enough that he doesn't hear the muffled sobbing. he wakes up not so long after with screaming. his heart races as he runs down the stairs, following the sound of your voice. his mind starts thinking the worst, but he finds you only having nightmares. he crawls in bed with you, without being kicked off. he lets you lay on his chest, one arm over your shoulder. his body warms yours up and you finally stop spasming. it doesn't take too long for both to fall asleep.

— ANGER

the penthouse is quiet. the winter is almost at it's end, so the pre-spring rays lighten the living room bringing warmness to your solitude. you sit uncomfortably, unknown to this feeling of absence. you don't feel him in the tower.

bruce said there was a non deniable meeting with his press team, because eventually he would have to go back to promoting his election, which would take place in the fall. you acted unbothered. yet, he's barely been gone for an hour and you can already feel the anxiety crippling. you only left the apartment for doctors appointment, still too scared to walk on the streets. and he was always there, too, holding your hand. so this is different.

alfred is downstairs upgrading the batman suit with a new technology he created. he invited you, but the darkness of the cave was definitely unrequited. that's how you end up lounging, in silence, staring at window. finally, you decide to try to watch something. you shouldn't really do that, because something could trigger a panic attack. but you're fine, you really are. enough with this nonsense.

shuffling through the channels, nothing gets your attention until there's a juridical show on. the judge is talking to the prosecutor, apparently, announcing the next witness to testify. the camera angle changes to the courtroom and expectant eyes turn to the wooden door. it opens slowly to reveal a knight in dark armour. you hold your breath. the jury buzzes and the room gets loud. heavy steps make his cape swing behind him, as he makes his way to the stand.

bruce had to make a tough decision. while you and him had been cleared from the trial, you with the psychiatrist report on PTSD and him with the marriage, the lawyers mentioned that the batman's testimony could be decisive for the accused to be found guilty by the jury. the public respected him. either they loved or feared him. so, even though he's never made such a public appearance, less even speaking, he had to go to that trial. he owed it to you. but you could never know. he didn't want to spark your interest in the case, you shouldn't have to go through it again. he lays his hand on the constitution and swears on it.

it doesn't feel real until you hear the judge.

"members of the jury, i present to you the batman."

it feels like a dagger has gone through your chest. there's a mix of feelings that have you almost throwing up. you feel like screaming and crying and blowing the fucking world up. how could he do that to you? that was your case, your life. you stand up only to find your legs trembling. you want to run there and testify. you want to tell the world the horrors you've been through and show them, including your husband, that you had overcome it. he was calling you weak right in you face and you couldn't bear the feeling of being chained up again. you're stuck in this hell of a tower like some futile damsel.

you stomp your way to the elevator, your mind set on leaving the building. but your heart stops you in your tracks pounding and almost vomiting itself out; you feel your toes numb and your legs can't stop shaking. the baritone voice still sounds in the apartment. you run to it and scream at the TV. you throw a pillow on it. that doesn't cool you down. your body is in motion while all you can see is red. you knock the coffee table down, shattering the glass and scattering like ashes the books that were on it on the floor. the noise still doesn't muffle his voice and you can't find the fucking remote control. you stumble across the room, throwing lamps and vases around. everything is falling down, in every sense. you grab a candle and let out a scream when you hit the TV with it, the screen going black and the noise finally ceasing.

alfred finds the room trashed, with you kneeling on the broken glass. there's blood on the floor. your body trembles with every sob. he cautiously steps towards you. you feel out of breath, tears burning your eyes. he holds you like a mother does.

"i'm sorry- i'm so sorry," he shakes his head, saying it doesn't matter. you wanna say it does, but there's simply nothing leaving your mouth apart from "i'm so sorry"

part three - aporia

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softboyluvr · 2 years

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hi hi hi! i absolutely LOVE your fuckin fics duuuude! it’s so hard to find cute cedric fics and i’m LIVING for yours hehe <33

i have a request if it’s not too much :)

cedric and a gender neutral!reader (but if it’s easier you can do fem!reader) having a rainy day inside of ced’s dorm and going through his wardrobe and taking his clothes until he catches you and just gives u so much love AUUUUGH-!

once again if this is too much of a request you don’t have to fulfill it!! if you have any questions dm me!!!!

much love, jaylen xx

hihihi!!! i was so happy to hear (read?) that you like my writing and i was sooo excited to get to write this request (it is so cute i kicked my legs a little) so i hope i did it justice and you like it <3

plain sight

cedric diggory x gn! reader

(no pronouns used)

warnings: intentional lower caps, not proofread

his clothes were really nothing out of the ordinary. except, of course, they were his. and they were soft and inexplicably warm but above all they all smelled like him. that’s why you found yourself standing in front of his wardrobe on a thursday afternoon while he was out on quidditch practice.

winter was fast approaching and you couldn’t ask your furnace of a boyfriend to keep you warm every night but, you knew a sweater of his would do the trick just fine. you also knew he would never notice some of his clothes being missing, as long as you kept it down to five items at most. he never noticed when you took his things or at least that’s what you thought.

cedric’s practice had ended earlier than usual today due to the expected rain that would soon fall on the castle. there was nothing he wished more in the world than cuddling up to you in his dorm room, except for perhaps a shower.

he all but skipped his way to his room, overly eager to spend the rest of the day surrounded by the smell of your shampoo while he listened to you talk. he silently opened his door as to not disrupt the peace of the hall and avoid drawing attention towards himself, and only as he closed the door to his prefect room did he see you. or well, the back of you. you were so lost in your mission of rummaging through his closet that you missed how he took a couple steps towards you and finally wrapped his arms around your middle, effectively startling you.

“can’t say i’m surprised to see where my clothes have been shipping off. i just wondered when i would see this scene with my own eyes” he said with a smile as he pressed his lips to the space right below your ear, leaving a series of kisses there.

“you knew?”

“of course i knew my love. your scent lingers when you return my things”

you turned in his embrace so that you were now face to face. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“why would i?” he leaned down to kiss your lips but you leaned backwards. earning a frown from him.

“you’re not upset?”

he squeezed at your sides and repeated his question. “why would i? it seems my things were made for you to wear” he again leaned down to peck your lips and this time you let him. “i even started to leave the things that didn’t smell like you anymore where you would find them and take them”

you laughed at this. “what?”

“i could tell which things were your favorite” the pull between your brows didn’t loosen. “the brown hoodie disappears more often than not, and sometimes i see my spare tie used as an accessory. you somehow always forget a scarf when we’re going down to hogsmeade and i saw my red sweater under my jean jacket in an outfit you wore sometime last week”

he fell back on his bed and sat there, face nuzzled on your chest. “i found all of those things lying around”

he hummed, eyes still closed. “you know i’m not a messy guy”

and he wasn’t, never a thing out of it’s assigned place. and yet the best pieces, your favorite pieces, were always lying around in plain sight. you looked down at him, his eyes now open and looking up at you. a smile making his cheeks puffy.

“i missed you today” he hummed and pulled you down to sit on his lap. pressing a loving kiss to your temple. “now what can a guy do to get you on that blue sweater you like and under the covers with me? i could use a nap”

————————

requests are open

#cedric x reader #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory #robert pattinson x reader

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pctterscars · 2 years

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always yours, e. cullen (part 2)

pairing: edward cullen x gender-neutral vampire!reader

summary: after coming back from volterra, edward has to deal with bella’s fateful decision, while you have to fight the inevitable battle within yourself about your feelings towards your best friend.

warnings: reader is extremely self-deprecating and insecure about themself, angst, non-canon edward (yk the healthy version of him), mentions of reader’s turning, there may or may not be a happy ending (kissing, implications to smut at the end)

a/n: sorry this took so long, i really don’t why it took so long but i wrote it nevertheless, also i hate this, also this is so long i’m sorry

PART 1 - i recommend you to read this part first if you haven’t already, thanks!

the next few months were terrible for edward, and it pained you to see how hurt he had become. his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked numb as if he didn’t have a reason for existing anymore.

the only times he’d smile was when you attempted to tell ridiculous jokes and he couldn’t keep a straight face.

he’d never found out about your true feelings for him all this time, and you were okay with it, but carlisle definitely wasn’t.

“you have to tell him.”

“carlisle, it’s better this way.”

“he’s miserable, and the only time he’s been smiling, or even remotely happy is when he’s with you, y/n.”

you sighed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“and, don’t you shake your head at me. you know i’m right. he deserves to be happy. you deserve to be happy.”

you opened your mouth to rebut back at your adoptive father, but he walked away before you could respond, leaving you speechless.

you couldn’t tell him, right? you weren’t enough to give him the happiness and light he deserves, right?

weeks passed by and edward didn’t suspect a thing, at least not to your knowledge.

carlisle would glare at you whenever he was in a room with both of you. but, since it was carlisle, it would be a calm and patient glare, never once hinting at any resounding anger.

you told yourself that you’d tell edward the truth, but deep down, it was evident that wasn’t the real truth. you were just lying to yourself to prevent this difficult conversation.

when the time eventually came, it wasn’t your choice in the end.

it was a calm night when it was just you and edward in the living room, you watching the current news on tv, while he was reading some heavy novel that had him furrowing his eyebrows every second.

the rest of your family went out hunting since you and edward went the night before. edward had really only been comfortable with hunting with only you ever since his break up with bella.

“alright, well, i have to get back to the hospital.”

“okay, try not to kill anybody.” edward had a slight smirk playing on his lips, beaming up at carlisle.

carlisle seemed amused and then stared at you with a knowing look in his eyes.

“was that it or did you need something else?” edward was confused as to why carlisle was still standing in the exact same spot.

“oh no, nothing from you, edward.” he raised his eyebrows, glancing at you.

you gulped and your eyes widened. “carlisle, can we please not do this now.”

“i think you’ve waited long enough, y/n.”

edward looked back and forth between the two of you, confusion etching his tired face. “what- what’s going on? y/n?”

“it’s nothing,” you sighed as you switched the television off and started to walk toward the kitchen.

“yeah, nothing. if being your mate is nothing.”

you stiffened and turned towards your adoptive father. “carlisle!”

“what? i don’t- i don’t understand. there’s no way that… y/n?”

it’s like you were paralyzed, you couldn’t move a single bone or muscle in your body.

you slowly turned towards your best friend, whose eyebrows were still furrowed.

“ed- edward, i can’t.” you whispered.

edward’s confused expression still stayed on his face and he turned away from you. “carlisle?”

“why do you think that you’re so happy after your breakup with bella, son? if she was really your mate, you wouldn’t have been able to heal so easily. why do you think only y/n can cheer you up?”

edward’s magical eyes widened in a flux of realization and he stared at you.

carlisle spoke one last thing to you before leaving. “i’m sorry, y/n, he had to know.”

“i know.” you sighed, knowing that you were going to have to talk about the inevitable.

you cleared your throat and smiled blankly. “so, there’s no way i can run away from this, right?”

edward was not amused at your lame attempt of lightening this awkward situation. “y/n.”

you flinched at his stern attitude towards you.

sighing, you explained, “fine. come on.”

you headed toward the direction of the patio outside, with edward cautiously following you.

once the two of you were outside, he initiated the conversation.

“why the hell didn’t you tell me you were my mate?”

you raised your eyebrows. “so, this is my fault?”

edward closed his eyes. “you know that’s not what i meant, y/n.”

“well, it sounded that way.”

“how long did you know?”

“edward…”

“how long?”

“a couple of years after my turning.”

you could tell he was trying to control his annoyance and his jaw tensed.

“that long, huh.”

“edward, i didn’t tell you because i knew it would have been hopeless.”

“what? i don’t-”

“you were never going to love me back the way i loved you, so…”

“of course i loved you!”

“what?” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“you really think i didn’t have any feelings for you, y/n?”

you shook your head, refusing to believe edward’s words. “you’re lying, edward. you didn’t-”

“when have i ever lied to you? how couldn’t i fall in love with you? or the way that your smile brightened up my darkness, or how you still remained strong even after the hell that bastard that murdered you put you through. or how i hate it whenever you put yourself down or your looks down, because you’re the most beautiful being, human or vampire, i have ever seen. you’re brilliant and absolutely magnificent. it was only a matter of time.”

you took a deep breath, even though you didn’t need to, to settle your internal struggle.

edward continued to talk, letting all of his feelings out. “but, you never told me of any feelings you had for me so i gave up, y/n. if i knew-”

“it wouldn’t have made a difference, edward.”

“what the hell are you talking about? we could have been happy like esme and carlisle are or rosalie and emmett-”

“no, i mean, you would have fallen out of love with me or left me for someone else. why wouldn’t you have?”

edward couldn’t believe your words. how could you think so little of yourself when all he saw was the complete opposite?

edward sighed and he had some kind of resentment in his eyes.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you asked so softly that if edward were still human, he definitely wouldn’t have heard the unknown timidness in your voice.

“why do you hate yourself so much?”

“edward,” you sighed exasperatedly, not warning to explain, “i was murdered because i was worthless. that was the reasoning that man had, he kept repeating it over and over again when i was bleeding out and being tortured, edward.”

“you really believe what some stupid bastard said about you?”

“well, it was true, edward, so… “

“y/n, you have to believe me. you are not worthless, okay? in fact, you are quite the opposite. you have to believe me.”

you shook your head, refusing to believe his words. “edward, even if i didn’t think i was worthless, i still wouldn’t have told you.”

“what? why not?”

“do you remember that night you were talking to me about bella?”

edward sighed, immediately regretting every single life decision he has ever made. “y/n-”

“you were so happy. and, you looked so in love, ed. there was no way i was ever going to ruin that, even if it meant sacrificing my own feelings towards you.”

“y/n,” edward started to say before you interrupted him.

“it’s okay, edward. i just can’t do this right now.”

you just wanted this entire thing to be over, whatever this was. you started to make your way past your mate to get back into the house, but edward’s cold yet comfortable grasp on your fingers stopped you.

“please, don’t leave. we’re not done, y/n. we can’t be.”

“i’m sorry.”

the next few weeks in the cullen household were awkward, to say the least.

you tried your hardest to avoid edward at all costs, which was obvious to every cullen. these efforts were made easier by the fact that you still had to attend school, the exact quality of education occupying your endless thoughts instead of your mate who was desperate for your attention.

you thought you were doing a wonderful job until edward eventually confronted you and gave you no room to escape this inevitable conversation, again.

sorting out the novels you had lying on the table near your window in your room, you were immediately alerted to a new presence, the one you were trying to avoid all these weeks, and you immediately lifted your head up.

“edward!”

“ah, so they speak.” edward grinned at you, but that grin soon turned into a soft and guilt-ridden glare.

“what do you want?”

“i think you know what i want, y/n.”

“we’re done talking about it. you’re still in love with bella and you were never in love with me in the first place. that’s it.”

“no! that’s not it! you can’t just pretend like we didn’t have that talk out on the patio all those weeks ago where i told you that i did love you.”

you gulped, shaking your head. “you didn’t mean it. i know you didn’t.”

edward’s jaw tensed. “you’re never going to believe me, are you?”

you turned away, not wanting to continue this conversation, when you felt edward’s safe presence in front of you. you turned towards him, looking anywhere but into his eyes.

those safe, golden eyes. they were broken, but strong at the same time.

“y/n.” edward was serious, having a stern look occupying his beautiful face. “would you please just look at me?”

at your ignoring of his demand, edward held your chin, which was turned away from him, and forcefully but gently turned it towards him.

he leaned so your foreheads’ and noses were touching. you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at his eyes. but, you knew he was looking into yours.

“please. you- you have to believe me.”

he was stammering, something that you had never seen him do. he gently grabbed your fingers and interlocked his own with yours. it felt like his pale hands were shaking and you were sure he’d be on the verge of tears if he was still human.

you finally looked up at him and saw the extreme desperation in his eyes. he was still staring at you.

“i don’t- i can’t-”

“y/n, please, i can’t do this without you. i- what can i do to make you believe me?” edward uttered.

“you really love me?”

edward nodded his head vigorously, so much so that you thought his head was going to fall off.

you still didn’t feel confident letting your guard down, you weren’t even entirely sure you still believed him, but you wanted to try. you wanted to believe your best friend.

“okay.” you softly whispered. “i want to believe you, but-”

“but?” edward’s nervousness was evident in his wavering tone.

“i’m terrified. i’m really scared of… everything. but i want to try. i want to try my best to believe you, edward.”

edward’s eyes twinkled while he held your face in his hands and rubbed your cheekbones. “i promise you, i will spend the rest of our limitless existences proving it you. please, y/n.”

you looked back down again at your fingers, which were still interlocked with your mate’s.

you faintly smiled, which made the golden-eyed boy’s heart swell with adoration.

“okay.” you whispered.

edward beamed. “okay?”

you looked back into his eyes, your faint smile twinkling. “okay, i will try to trust you, ed.”

he let out a laugh filled with relief and scrunched his nose against your own. “thank you. thank you.”

you smiled lightly, which soon turned into a nervous and albeit unnecessary gulp when you came to realize how close you physically were to edward, specifically how your lips were just inches away from being molded into his own.

the auburn-haired boy seemed to notice the same thing as his line of sight traveled from your eyes to your soft lips, which the iridescent boy had been aching to touch ever since he could remember.

his slender fingers had ghosted over your cheekbones with his nose pressed up against your own nose, mildly distracting you from his husky whisper against your lips.

“is this alright?” edward had murmured, his lips finally touching your own for a slight moment.

your mind was too hazy to answer with actual words but you managed to release a slight nod of your head, which gained a chuckle to grace his lips.

as he finally connected his lips with your own, it was as if a fire burning deep within your chest was finally being ignited, the raw flames finally being called upon after hiding within the chambers of your timely heartbreak.

his hands travelled from your cheekbones to below your jaw, finding its home as edward softly placed his hands on each side of your neck, his thumbs tracing the outline of your collarbones.

the golden-eyed boy lightly grinned as he ran his tongue slightly across your lower lip, eliciting a gasp to come from you, allowing his tongue entrance in order to deepen the kiss between the two of you.

as you two began to deepen the kiss when your tongues made contact, your hands traveled to his auburn locks, resulting in a deep, guttural groan from him as his hands lowered to tightly grip your hips like his very being depended on you, only you.

he pulled you as close as you physically could be to him as his lips continued to stay molded onto your own, and he lightly tapped your hips, signaling you to jump up and wrap your legs around his hips as his large hands wrapped around your back as he walked backwards and laid you on your bed, with your back against the sheets.

the cullen boy hovered over you, with his arms placed next to both sides of your body as your legs were still wrapped around his hips and you were the one to finally separate your lips from his as he whimpered and a faint smile painted your features.

you brought your fingers up to run them across his lips as he rested his forehead against yours and with a smile, he questioned, “why’d you stop?”

you scrunched your nose slightly and pretended to deeply contemplate your answer. “hm. i don’t really think you deserve an explanation.”

edward looked over your body as he groaned. “hm. well, dear, then why don’t i try making it up to you?”

the golden-eyed boy placed his lips onto yours again, while smiling which caused you to reciprocate while kissing him back and meshing your hands into his auburn locks.

as you two deepened the kiss, he held onto your thigh so that it would stay wrapped around his hip and groaned with urgency as you grabbed the collar of his button-up shirt.

it seemed as if what has been encompassing your fantasies and dreams for decades now was finally happening and you couldn’t be filled with more joy when your mate finally found out the truth.

the two of you could finally spend your eternities in utmost happiness, as long as you had each other.

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