#this what i thought his disguised was at the Wayne party
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𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞
A chance meeting with a stranger leads down the road of an inevitable devotion. Breeding a childish love into an obsessive attachment. The devil's temptation is all-consuming, only producing pain disguised as pleasure.
wc: 2906
The grace of his footsteps, despite his enormous figure, had seemed to incite an absurd curiosity within me. His attitude ranged from a spectrum even vaster than that of light, as he got along with almost everyone he met, yet peculiarly, seemed to never lose his morals or beliefs in the face of so many opinions and conversations.
I had paid no mind to him when he first marched through the halls of Gotham high, the whole school was abuzz with chatter, gossiping about this bizarre new character. He never dressed the part of being Bruce Wayne’s ward, often rocking hoodies large enough to drown in, colored a deep blood red that seemed to fuel the fury of the teachers. He was a delinquent in every right, yet he was also as intelligent in the same capacity.
Paid for by the one-percenters of Gotham, the library the size of a Manhattan penthouse was often eerily empty, met occasionally with the presence of a student trying to pay another for answers to an assignment. I was an exception in all such aspects, for neither was I rich nor conceited enough to believe in the fantasy that I would be handed everything in life. I would relish the silence of the library, a place I had made a home of by the second week of high school. Gotham was not a city for me, and the cheap apartment that I called ‘home’ was anything but its namesake, lacking everything that the library could provide.
I had heard the whispers of others, of how the girls were intrigued by the new kid to instantly desire him, and of how the boys spoke nonsense, fueled by a jealous rage. Though these polarized opinions had left me curious, I never thought it my place to ever participate in such an activity of imagining. That was a right reserved for the rich, for those who had time enough to do as they pleased.
Jason Todd sat in front of me, one fine day, in the library, so enamored in The Great Gatsby that he ignored my existence. Although caught off guard, I enjoyed the silent company, feeling as though I was not alone in my fated destiny toward deterioration as I spent more and more time in the library each passing day. Life had only begun to worsen with time, yet his presence had seemed to soothe me with silent comfort.
At first, I brushed him off just as I thought he had done of me, yet the more I saw him, I began to imagine as well. He had made me a rich woman, not materialistically, but rather metaphysically. My mind spent hours trying to reason why he stayed. Was the library his abode as well? Was he trying to read every book he’d laid eyes on in there? Why? Questions only left a hole, a desire to fulfill my curiosity.
“Hey.” Jason's soft voice, like the serpent tempting Eve, left me craving conversation. It was the third month of our silent routine when he finally spoke, soothing months of contemplation with a single word. Oh, how desperate I had been.
The days that followed after that interaction were like a daydream. Unbeknownst to most, Jason had a poetic soul paired with the heart of a hopeless romantic. He would bring my favorite coffee with a pastry to the library and set it beside me inconspicuously. He’d brush off every thank you, pleased by the apparent delight in my expression when I would realize what he had brought. These little gestures enabled us to evolve beyond the library setting, meeting instead at coffee shops near the school simply to study as we normally had done.
Our interactions were intimate, yet physical exchange was always kept to a minimum, with either party fearful of crossing the line and losing the other. But observing the way his massive body could maneuver through the crowds of people on the street, watching him eat with a linger of an animalistic instinct through his gentle facade, and catching his radiant smile whenever he laid eyes on me was fulfilling enough. Until it left me longing for more.
It had taken me a while to muster the courage to make a move to him. I had developed feelings for him that grew deeper with each passing day, and I couldn’t hold in my desire any longer. So, on a sweltering summer day, as me and Jason sat at the coffee shop we would always hang out at, I decided that I would do something. Jason, in his tank top and jeans, sweat shining in the glare of the sunlight, had left me a blushing mess, too embarrassed to think through what I should do to further our relationship. In my state, I had barely recognized how he seemed timider than usual, keeping to himself.
After an awkward afternoon in the quaint shop, I decided my endeavor was a lost cause. I got out of my seat, and walked to the entrance, motioning to Jason that I was about to leave. Together we walked out through the door, yet before we could part ways, he grabbed my wrist with a gentle grip. The sudden action caused me to swing around, crashing into his chest as I did. Before I could apologize, he used his free hand to take hold of my chin and tilt my face upward just enough to meet his lips.
The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. It was a moment of pure magic. In that fleeting instant, I knew with certainty that Jason was the perfect man for me, the one I had been searching for without even knowing it. As we pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, I felt a sense of clarity wash over me like a cleansing tide. In Jason's arms, I had found my sanctuary, my safe haven in a world full of chaos.
And to tie the not on such a precious moment, he had whispered, “Will you be my girlfriend.”
Since that day, Jason established a routine. He’d keep his distance until the night, when he’d knock on my door, littered with bruises, crying for help. The late nights were reserved for peeling away every layer of Jason’s being his traumatizing past and his blissful present. Then, there came days that I wouldn’t hear from him for days, never seeing him at school or at the cafe. He was like a ghost disappearing and reappearing as he wished, toying with my heart every time. Yet, he always managed to make up for his absence, knowing just the right things to reel me back in when I started to slip away. But despite the distance, despite the pain, I stayed because I loved him. I had fallen in love with his fucked up ways, his twisted dreams, a secret life he kept from me.
He wasn’t a bad lover, just an absent one. His appearance had become the highlight of my days, the way he’d caress me when we hugged, the way he’d hold me in his arms while we rested in my bed. Everything he did was able to erect a lustful emotion I never knew I had. He was by all means, perfectly imperfect. Human in all rights.
After we graduated, he became more and more distant. He’d never told me what he was up to, convinced that I would stay by his side no matter what. I felt as though I was more of a token anchor than a person to him. Existing just for him, as if I did not have passions and ambitions of my own. But he was right. His love was intoxicating, leaving me an obedient puppet who’d always wait for him. Yet the summer after graduation, when he left me for months, I finally began to become skeptical of our situation.
It was bittersweet to know that this time, he hadn’t stood me up due to his own volition. Fate was a heartbreaker, leaving love a longed-for feeling buried six feet in a grave that I could never see, even if I wanted to. Jason had a simple ceremony, with his blue roses placed upon the coffin as he was buried. A speech was given, tears were shed, and people departed more disturbed than they arrived. Or at least that was what I was told in a letter. The sender was one who shared the same address, the same life, the same ambitions as Jason, yet hadn’t the heart to allow his girlfriend the privilege of knowing about the late son’s departure from this world.
Bruce Wayne had known loss to a degree incomprehensible to the common man, and no amount of money would ever fix the wounds that bled him dry. Yet, this experience should have encouraged communication. If he was as heartful as the news portrayed him to be, sympathizing with those less fortunate enough to form a family full of grieving children, then how had he glanced over me? The same pain had haunted me, from the moment I felt Jason slipping from my grasp, becoming more and more distant until he left me forever. Bruce Wayne, through Jason, was depicted as a madman driven by an insane drive as persistent as the Joker’s scheming. Jason worshipped the man more than god himself, and yet he often came to me with pained sobs, unfulfilled dreams, and an unbridled rage that his ‘father’ failed to provide for.
Having never met the man before, I had formed a loose persona in my mind that I had assumed the billionaire was. Yet, my assumptions were solidified after receiving the curt letter, rather, note, written with such passive care that anyone would have thought it was merely as insignificant as a to-do list.
To whom it may concern:
We gathered to remember Jason at Wayne Manor. It's regrettable you couldn't join us. The Wayne family extends their condolences and offers assistance during this difficult time.
Pretentious, arrogant liars. Gotham’s elite were all the same. I sat in the restaurant for two hours, danced in the street on my way home imagining what I would do for Jason's birthday, and attempted to reason another one of his absences from the date before knowing. The sealed envelope sat on the doorstep, accompanied by nothing but a red seal that indicated its correspondent. It was a strange item to receive out of the blue.
With no notice, no knowledge of the life that Jason led among the elite, I was baffled by the harshness of facing a sudden reality. It felt surreal to imagine Jason of people dead. He was a killer, with killer looks, a killer smile, and a killer attitude. A body built to fight, and an aura as dangerous as a drug. He couldn’t have died, not my Jason.
I couldn’t comprehend losing Jason, enough that in such denial I had ventured to Wayne Manor, forcing my way through the ebony gates onto the gothic grounds of the mansion. At the front door, after incessantly pounding on the grandiose doors, I was finally met with the face of the butler, Alfred. Before speaking I stared at him for a few moments as I cleared my blurry vision from the uncontrollable tears that rolled down my cheeks. He seemed to recognize me, as he let me inside, placing a hand on my back for support as he looked toward me with an empathetic expression.
“Jason can’t be dead. I never saw a body, never heard a lick of what happened to him. You’re liars.” The words left like venom, hurting the old man enough to display his aching heart in his eyes.
“We all have lost someone very special, but we must accept it.” He spoke, attempting to keep a calm demeanor.
“Accept it? What the hell are you on about? A funeral I was never invited to and a body I have yet to see. How am I supposed to accept something that seems too imaginative?” I retorted, my anger laced with sorrow.
Silence hung heavy between us, but I pressed on, seeking the truth I feared. “He didn’t care, did he? He loved something more than he loved me, right?”
Alfred nodded, giving into his grief as his eyebrows softened, and his gaze moved to the floor, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.
“Can you tell me what it was that he adored enough to give his life for?”
“Justice.”
I laughed. Of course, he chased independence from his family, yet revered the so-called philanthropist guardian he had. Though he might have begun with the pursuit of true moral justice, Bruce skewed into a dangerous endeavor.
Bruce Wayne was a killer, not Jason, no he had a handsome impression, a soft smile, and a hopeful attitude. It wasn’t justice that Jason pursued, it was Bruce’s image of it. He was an imperfect man, his only weakness was the longing for a familial love he was denied by his own parents. One that I could never compensate for. He wasn’t my Jason, never had he been. I didn’t know Jason at all, I was the puppet, toyed with by the father and the son.
After six months of sleepless nights and living nightmares, I finally found a haphazard peace to settle in. I watched the sky every night, wishing that the hope that blessed Metropolis would make its way into Gotham and give me the will to move on with my life. But, as the general populace is fated to remain in the same cycle, trapped in the chains of modern capitalism, all I was able to do was make do with my shitty job, in my shitty apartment, living a lonely life, as devoid of color as the Gotham sky was of the sun. My visit to Wayne Manor had not changed anything, for I was still left in the dark regarding every manner in which Jason’s name was exploited, whether it be a fundraiser in his honor or a gala, I was always the last to know.
But without hearing his name, seeing his face, or feeling his touch for so long, I had begun to forget him. Out of sight, out of mind as the saying goes, and though I had forgotten everything, his soft voice still haunted me whenever I slept. I had fallen into insanity fueled by my imagination, one that left me feeling rich in broken pieces of a heart.
Tonight I sat at the edge of my windowsill, one leg resting on a loose brick outside the apartment, while the other remained crossed beneath me. With my head leaned back against the metal of the frame, I watched the stars twinkle in the night sky, like diamonds. It was a rare night, to hear the sirens go off occasionally. There were no screams, no gunshots no cries for help, only the ambience of the city. I took it as a sign, that change had arrived, that peace was mine to finally be in.
Closing my eyes, I decided that tonight was safe enough to let my guard down. To enjoy Gotham’s raw essence as a mother to the unfortunate. Her touch let my hair dance in the breeze, cooling my body from the heat of the day. Her sounds were a harmonic symphony lulling me into a deep sleep. But her motherly affection was short-lived, as the sound of boots hitting the fire escape had woken me from my lucid state.
The footsteps felt heavy yet sounded as soft as the movements of a ballerina. There was a familiar feeling about the situation, but I couldn’t quite place it, not until his breath hit the back of my neck. Even with the faint light from the neon sign, the man remained a silhouette in the darkness, bigger than what the steps had led me to believe. I didn’t move, waiting for the man to make the first move.
“Hey.” In the same husky voice in which he introduced himself to me all those years ago, Jason had come back, yet again tempting me to be consumed by him. At first, I thought I had finally broken, gone insane from the grief. I was done fighting my end when the weight of Jason's touch settled upon me. It was as though a dark cloud descended, shrouding me in a familiar embrace that I couldn't resist. His fingers traced the contours of my hand, each touch sending shivers down my spine, igniting a flame that I thought had long been extinguished.
I felt the pull of his presence, magnetic and intoxicating, drawing me closer with each passing moment. His breath, hot against my neck, tempted me to abandon reason and lose myself in his embrace. Despite the past, despite the pain, despite everything urging me to resist, I found myself unable to pull away. His hold tightened and his lips brushed against my ear, I knew that I had crossed a line from which there was no return. Swallowed by the shadows of Gotham's embrace, I had sealed my fate the moment I met him. I was fated to die a poor woman, yet the devil enticed me with a taste, and I will die a rich woman consumed by the unending pain of unreal love.
#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd#red hood#red hood x reader#under the red hood#arkhamverse#arkham knight#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth#angst#manipulation#toxic love
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some doodle since i havent posted in a while :'o
#riddler#edward nygma#batman unburied#the riddler secrets in the dark#this what i thought his disguised was at the Wayne party
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Gossip and Galas
Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.
Warnings & Topics: Alcohol, derogatory language, crowds, sexual references, comfort. 18+.
Word Count: 1.9K words
Summary: Shortly after her engagement to Bruce Wayne, fem!reader is met with the gossip that comes with it at one of his charity galas.
Author's Note: Finally made a masterlist, so go ahead and check that out for more fluffy stories like this. Comforting fics like this are just what I like for winter weather. I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday season, and I hope you enjoy.
My bracelets clinked against each other on my wrist, sliding down my arm as I lifted my hand to brush back my hair, my focus never leaving the man whose arm I was grasping. He stood tall, the suit looking almost small on his frame, smiling politely while he escorted me into the ballroom. This year’s charity gala was quite full, very few people had sent their regrets. The champagne gown that hung over my body glittered, matching the diamond jewelry framing my face.
One diamond I kept hidden in my fiance's arm, dodging the prying eyes full of curiosity. Everyone wanted to see the size of the rock he had placed on my finger, desperate to be the first to share the flaming news. He had only proposed a week before, and it had hit the news almost overnight. Now, it was a free-for-all to see who could get the inside scoop first.
Breaking through my thoughts, he tilted his head downwards to hum, “Did I tell you that you look stunning tonight?”
His comment pulled a smile out of my peach-tinted lips. “You’ve said that six times.”
“Then let me say it a seventh time, you look absolutely stunning.” With the gentlest touch, he placed his hand over my arm in a comforting gesture. The affection made me forget everything for a moment, before the inevitable began.
Guests from all directions began to approach us, important names from all over Gotham, curious voices disguised with polite words. His smile opened ten different conversations at once, and I contented myself with the image of a silent trophy wife. Naturally, I had plenty to say, many words I wanted to make heard, but this was neither the time nor the place.
As I moved my left hand away from Bruce’s arm to brush away a strand of hair from my face, someone caught it in a tight grip.
“What a beautiful ring this is! What a size! Your finger is going to get tired of wearing that…” My hand was immediately surrounded by a group of five or six women, all peering down at the newly acquired engagement ring. My natural reaction was to jerk my hand back, but as I did, I was met with disapproving and disheartening looks from the curious viewers. I slowly let my hand slide back into place, allowing them to inspect with judgemental astonishment.
I turned my head back to Bruce in a silent plea for rescue, but he was occupied with a champagne glass in his hand and several well-dressed gentlemen holding his attention. Now a small crowd was gathered around my hand, many pairs of eyes leering. Using my sweetest smile, I was slowly able to pry free from the spectators and rejoin my fiance in the moment. The moment didn’t last very long.
As more and more people moved past, my lips became a straighter and straighter line. When Bruce noticed that my grip on his arm was becoming a little too tight for comfort, he turned to me with a whisper. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, can we… start walking?” I turned my head in the direction of the bar.
“Of course.” He gently guided me in the alluring direction of sparkling wine glasses, leaving a small trail of party-goers behind us.
Several exchanged words later between the bartender, and he placed a glass of wine in my hand, which I began to sip instantly. “Sorry I’m getting so uptight, I always think I’m going to handle parties better than I do.”
“It’s okay. Don’t think twice about it.” He placed a kiss on my cheek before eyeing another group of guests walking towards us with conversation topics written all over their faces. “Do you mind?”
“No, no, of course not. Go on, have fun.” My smile was fake, but my love was real. I watched him move off into the crowd, entertaining the many who were trying to catch his eye. He was going to have a good time, socialize, and later tonight I’d get all his attention.
I moved into a corner, next to a large, decorative ivory pillar where I could ease my tension and finish my glass of wine. I watched another party of women moving past me, their stares nearly piercing my left hand. Quickly, I shifted my glass into my right hand and put my left behind my back. Not only did I feel judged, I felt ridiculous. Tonight I was supposed to be the princess on the arm of my prince, ravishing in the glory of the spotlight.
It didn’t feel like glory, and I didn’t feel glorious. I didn’t want to be on his arm right now. As exciting as it was to be nearly royal for a night, after all the comments, whispers, and questions, I felt used, almost dirty. Tonight I’d been called many things in overheard conversation. So far I could mark gold-digger, leech, and other appealing titles off the list.
As I took a rather embarrassing gulp of my wine, I could hear feminine voices moving closer on the other side of the pillar. I turned my head, ready to move to a more secluded spot, before I caught a snippet of their conversation. When I heard my name, I sucked in my stomach, trying to disappear behind the stone to eavesdrop.
“Did you see how vain she looked on his arm? I can’t believe how proud she is.”
“Especially after he probably pulled her out of the gutter. Who knows how many rich, brainless guys she’s played around with.”
“You know she’s just waiting to sink her teeth into that divorce settlement.”
“Can you believe he’s so dense that he’d buy her such a huge ring? Somebody’s gotta tell him before she runs away with the next moneybag that smiles at her.”
“He’ll definitely be single in a few months. Don’t worry, Liv, you’ll get your shot with him.”
“Where’d she even come from?”
“Streets, no doubt.”
“You know, that’s probably why he’s with her! He hired her and then…”
“He fell for her the first time she gave him head.”
“Girls like her…”
“I know. What a slut.”
Gold-digger I could handle. Leech hurt, but it was fine. Slut was a cut I couldn’t manage right now. Maybe if my social energy wasn't gone, I might’ve appeared from behind the pillar looking like a goddess and given them a smart remark that would leave their glossed mouths gaping and their confidence rattled.
But that wasn’t where I was at right now.
Instead I was back at the bar, fleeing their snickers and giggles, asking the bartender to hand over another bottle of Cabernet and to not ask questions. With the bottle tucked safely under my arm and the stem of a wine glass between my fingers, I fled to the safety of the private quarters of the manor. Before I ascended the first flight of stairs, I kicked off my heels, letting them lay where they landed on the floor. My feet immediately felt relief even while climbing flight after flight of stairs till I reached the master bedroom Bruce and I had come to share.
Realizing I had no corkscrew with me, I glared down at the bottle, calculating the quickest way to open it. I don’t need all my teeth, I thought to myself. Before I could get a chance to pry out the cork, the bedroom door opened behind me, startling me. I whipped around, my heart racing, feeling guilty for abandoning the gala and running away to drink alcohol.
“Thought you might need this.” Bruce stood in the doorway with a corkscrew, his face riddled with concern and a bit of amusement.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” I ordered, marching to him and taking it from his hand. “And don’t act like you don’t have a thousand people downstairs asking for you. Duty calls.” I tried to shoo him away with my hand before he caught my wrist and pressed a kiss to my palm.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I saw your face when you left.”
“Go away, I have a date with a wine glass. I’ll tell you later.”
“(Y/N).” He calmly ushered me away from the door and sat me on the foot of the bed.
“I heard some… people… saying… things… about me.” I managed to get out.
“Which people? I’ll have them removed right now. What did they say?” His fingers brushed away loose hair that hung in front of my face.
“Nothing. I don’t want to think about it. Let me just…” I looked at him and then at the waiting bottle of Cabernet.
“Absolutely, want some company?”
Yes. “No, it’s okay. You need to get back.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do! The gala has two more hours to run!”
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll go next year.”
“Right. I’m serious, you’re going to be missed.”
“I’d rather be missed by them than by you.” His eyes glared into mine with stubborn insistence. I sighed.
“I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”
“Not at all.”
“...Okay.”
Bruce grinned triumphantly before making his way to the cabinet in the corner of the room and retrieving another wine glass. When he returned, his arm automatically wrapped around my waist. “Tell me what they said about you.”
“It’s not worth it,” I replied, finally managing to open the bottle of wine.
“Allow me,” Bruce took the bottle from my hand to pour both our glasses and pressed a kiss behind my ear. “You’re going to tell me after you finish this glass anyway, might as well tell me now.”
My glare wasn’t enough to deter him from his quest for an answer. “They said you pulled me from the streets, and that I was a slut, and I was going to divorce you and run away with somebody else…”
“But that’s not true, is it?” He caught my chin with his fingers and tilted it upwards, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I didn’t find you on the streets, I found you doing what you’re best at, working hard and making a career for yourself. I can’t think of a more admirable thing you could be doing.”
I smiled at the flashback to when we had crossed paths in a business meeting. “Mhm.”
“If anything, I don’t deserve you. Not only are you beautiful, you complete me. You make me better.”
My eyes closed as he pressed a very passionate, loving kiss to my lips. His hand rested on my waist, stroking with his thumb, sending tingles up my spine. When my eyes opened again, he was smiling. I couldn’t help but do the same. “Okay. Thank you for… all of this. Leaving the party for me.”
“You will always come first. What else did they say?”
“They said you fell in love with me the first time I gave you head.”
He tilted his head, pretending to ponder the statement. “Well…”
Laughing, I gently shoved his shoulder. “Bruce!”
“Okay, okay.”
Below, the party-goers searched for us, but we didn’t return. The feeling was transforming, suddenly I felt like the most important and beautiful woman in the world. His world. There, with him, I started to feel myself not care what they said about me or what names they came up with. Here, I was just his. And that was enough.
#fluff#batman imagine#dc comics#dcu#fanfiction#female reader#batman#batman x reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader#dc batman#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne fanfiction#bruce wayne fanfic#batmom#batfamily#batman fanfic#batman fluff#batman fanfiction#dc imagine#dc#dc fanfic#dc fluff#fem reader#batman x fem!reader#batman x y/n#x reader#fanfic
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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 10
MASTERPOST
I hope you enjoy reading <3 comment and reblog, it relaly helps!
Underneath the hot summer sun, Damian lay fat on Danny’s belly as the older boy lazily drifted underneath the water’s surface. Well, drifting was a strong word, as Damian estimated they were still going at about 20 miles an hour, but considering Danny’s top speed, it probably was like a peaceful drift.
The ocean water was crystal clear, all the way down to the shallow floor beneath them, as patterns shifted and ebbed with the movement of the waves. It was very much welcome change from the dark ravine they’d just evacuated.
They swam close enough to the surface that Damian could occasionally peek his eyes over the water. It was probably the first time he’d touched air since he woke up a changed being. It felt hot, quite hot in fact. Damian looked up to the sun, before quickly ducking back down as the harsh glare blinded his sensitive eyes.
“You’ll get used to it.” Danny had said. Damian resigned himself to idly batting away at the surface, watching the streaks and waves created by the speed of his hands pushing the water apart.
It was amusing. The peace helped to keep certain thoughts out of his mind for a little. But Damian was nothing if not decisive, and he would put the concerns that nipped at his fins to rest.
“I take back what I said. Earlier.” Damian muttered.
“Sorry, what?”
“About you being a poor excuse for a hero. All I have done is antagonize and belittle you, and yet you still choose to burden yourself with me.”
“Damian I feel like we’ve been over this.”
Damian crossed his arms. “No, that was for leading you into danger.”
“Well your forgiveness coupon extends to past grievances too this time.” Danny said, a ghost of a smirk gracing his translucent skin.
“You have shown a great heroic spirit. When I came to Amity Island, the reports of your character were confusing, and contradictory. Now that I have seen your actions with my own eyes, I can see the truth…”
“Aw, Damian…” Good grief, he was about to start getting mushy again. Damian had to stop this.
“You are just as much an obnoxious goody two shoes as my eldest brother.”
“You know? I’ll take it, backhanded compliment or no.”
Damian slapped his tailfin on Danny’s stomach. The older boy only laughed, that same obnoxiously contagious mirth that only Richard could produce. Damian lowered his head into his crossed arms, disguising any peeking grin with a pout.
Knock, knock, knock.
Bruce Wayne had made a note to visit Fentonworks sometime during their visit, but circumstances have moved that trip up his timeline. He took in the maddening contraption that was this building. There was no building code in the world that would allow this thing to stand. Above the brick and mortar, winding metal pipes lead into what appeared to be a huge radio tower complete with observation deck. Bruce could practically feel the stress those pipes had to take. It was so top heavy it was a miracle a stiff breeze hadn’t knocked the entire house down. He would definitely not want to be the poor sap who had to enforce building codes round here. Considering the Fenton’s penchant for shooting first, it would not be surprising if they had shot at them, likely yelling accusations of “collusion with the sirens!”
However, these people were his best lead, and he needed to follow it. For Damian’s sake, and for his.
The door swung open, revealing Maddeline Fenton in her signature jumpsuit, the hood pulled down and hair slightly disheveled. From the search, or out of worry for her wayward son?
It had been a good twenty-four hours since Damian had been dragged into the water by an unknown party. The moment Bruce noticed the beeping alerting that Damian’s tracker was going critical, he went into Batman mode right then and there, rushing to the scene of the crime. However, what he found instead was fourteen-year-old Daniel Fenton standing over the peer, a haunted look on his face.
Bruce had asked him if he was ok, before local authorities separated then and corralled them away from the scene, setting up tape and warning signs. Bruce verbally wrestled with them, demanding to let him see if his son was alright. However, as far as they knew, he was just a normal man, in no way equipped to dive into the depths and fist fight sea monsters.
It was at times like this that he cursed the need for secrecy.
Bruce didn’t see Daniel Fenton again. When he asked around, nobody had either.
Barred from joining the search physically, Bruce was given free access to the security footage in the area, searching in conjunction with other investigators, as per his insistence. While he recovered barely anything useful for Damian, it did show Daniel’s last appearance being around ten minutes after Bruce had found him. Daniel had slipped out of the crowd, last seen heading toward the cliff-face on the far side of town. Bruce sent off the info to the police and GiW as soon as he found out.
That lead him here. To console, but also to interrogate.
“Oh, Mr Wayne! We weren’t expecting you.”
She led Bruce into the living room, seemingly a very normal and domestic place, but a closer look revealed dozens of spare parts scattered around tables and desks and shoved to the side to make room for more unfinished inventions. The living room was adjacent to the kitchen, and Bruce could almost swear he saw glowing blue slime dripping out of it.
“Jack! We have a guest!” Maddeline called out, before inviting Bruce to sit down with some tea. “I’m terribly sorry, we weren’t expecting visitors. And I’m so sorry about your son. That close to shore, our preliminary bouy should’ve been able to detect the attack. We’re not sure what happened…” she trailed off.
All these facts Bruce knew well. He had been briefed on them in the early hours of the search, while there was still much hope to be hand.
“Actually, Dr Fenton, I was visiting to give my condolences about your own son. I know with all the talk about such a high-profile case, it’s easy for other cases to be swept under the rug, but that would be unfair for you.”
Madeline’s face warped not into sadness, or depression, but confusion. “Excuse me? Danny’s been staying at Tucker’s house at the weekend.”
Bruce opened his mouth to interrupt, but Madeline beat him to the punch. “Sorry, please give me a moment.”
She rushed over to an old landline hanging by the wall next to a pair of precariously placed prototypes for some kind of futuristic gun. Rapidly punching in what he recognized was the Foley house’s number, Madeline yanked the phone out of its receiver.
“Angela? Angela, is Danny there, I need to speak to him… What?!” Madeline’s face twisted into shock. Her left hand cradelling the landline, her right hand stroking her hair repteadly. “Danny told me he’d be staying at your house. Yes, yes. Please do so. Thank you Angela. I’ll call Pamela now.”
She hung up. Another rapidly inputted number later, and a second call went through. “Pamela, I’ve been told that Danny’s been staying with Sam. Is he there? I urgently need to speak to him.”
This time, the response was very audible. Bruce could hear a raised, ranting voice, a far cry from the sickly sweet dulcet tones ‘Brucie’ Wayne had been subjected to the night before. “Pamela I need you to listen to me. Danny told me that he’d be staying with Angela. Angela told me that Tucker told her that they’d be in your house. And now you’re saying Sam’s taken them all to a camping trip on the mountain? Yes… yes. I know.”
Just at that moment, Jack Fenton, barreled into the room, emerging from a set of stairs leading into the kitchen, a tray of chocolate fudge cookies steaming in his gloved hands.
“Brucie Wayne!” The man put down the tray of cookies and rushed over to Bruce, where Bruce’s hands were almost crushed by the vigorous handshake the man gave him.
“Listen, Brucie,” Jack Fenton’s voice lowered. “I really wanted to say we’re sorry abou-“
Before Jack could finish what he was saying, Madeline grabbed him by the collar. “We have to go, Jack! To the SAV!”
Bruce stood up. “I’m coming with you.”
That might have been a mistake. Jack Fenton grabbed his hand again with that bone crushing grip and pulled him outside. Madeline pressed a button on a remote, revealing a garage housing the scientific marvel and engineering horror of the Fentons’ hand-crafted and customised tank of a… duck boat.
The exterior was sleek white with silver lines, with reinforced tires on the bottom and a hull wide enough to float on water. The top sported a radar dish, and Bruce identified several seams all across the boat, likely where some of the numerous weapons the Fentons made were hiding.
Of course, Bruce had seen this thing in action before, and the only thing worse than Jack’s sailing was his driving.
“Come on Brucie, we can talk more on the way!”
Meanwhile, in the middle of the ocean…
“It is pitiful how much Richard adores that, that Jaws film.” Damian’s disgust is palpable in his low glare, a disgust mirrored by Danny’s own gag.
“Dude, no way. I hate that fuckin’ movie so goddamn much. Imagine making a movie where tiny puppies start mauling people to death for no reason!”
Damian nodded, sagely. “It is anti-shark propaganda in the finest, and its disavowal by its direct is incredibly telling.”
“I think the Dolphin Mafia were behind it.” Damian considered this thought. How he would love for that to be true, so he could sink his teeth into some dolphin flesh in revenge for what they did to him and to shark reputations worldwide. “Like dude! Sharks are the cuddliest fish on the planet! They don’t even fight sirens, let alone humans. Pretty sure sea urchins cause more injuries. Hell I think the siren attack numbers are about to overshoot them.”
“If the Dolphin Mafia do exist, I will make it my mission to hunt them down, and devour them all.” Damian said with fatal finality.
A beat passed. Danny blinked. “Dude, aren’t you a vegetarian?”
“… Perhaps.”
“Isn’t it like, a moral thing for you? Don’t tell me the siren instincts are messing up your brain chemistry. I literally wouldn’t know how to explain that to Bruce and I’m already fearing for my life.”
“I am of my right mind. It is just that I intend to slay them regardless, so why let their flesh go to waste?”
“You know stuff doesn’t go to waste in the ocean? Like, if you don’t eat it, there’s a million other tiny organisms waiting in line for you. That’s how the freaking ecosystem works.”
Damian considered these words. While yes, it was a relief that killing the Dolphin Mafia (if they did exist) would not necessitate their consumption to prevent wastage, it was oh so tempting to dominate them in the traditional fashion of supreme ocean animals…
“It is worth considering. I will ponder my decision at a later date.”
“I’ll pretend that isn’t utterly scary.”
Damian’s thoughts turned to another pod of dolphins… “That being said, I should like to relieve Skulker of his hunting dolphins.”
“You mean hunting… doglphins?” Danny said with another infuriating grin. Damian went to bad it away, only to get stopped by the older boy holding him back with a finger.
“Let me finish my point! If you intend to continue making inane puns, this journey will be difficult.”
Danny laughed.
“I am serious!”
Danny laughed again, provoking Damian to launch himself at the older boy’s face with a snarl. The boys tumbled and tussled through the water as they play fought…
Bruce was beginning to get nauseous.
His pleas for safer driving went largely ignored. “Sorry Bruce it’s an emergency!” Which left him to helplessly cling to his seat for dear life as Jack pulled sharp turns at top speed, and barrelled through barricades.
The SAV’s alarm sirens (how ironic) blared at full volume as Madeline’s voice blasted through a megaphone. “This is a siren emergency! Please be on the lookout for Sam Manson, Tucker Foley and our baby sweetkins Danny Fenton! HOLD ON TIGHT BABY BOY, WE’RE COMING FOR YOU!”
Scanning the streets for the teens while praying for God for safety from a civilian’s driving was not on his agenda today.
“You doing ok back there, Mr Wayne?” Madeline asked. Bruce grimly nodded.
Jack Fenton swerved through a roundabout, heading for the mountain.
If Bruce’s intuition on teenagers was worth anything (and it had to be worth anything, considering the years he spent wrangling some of the craftiest, most rebellious teenagers on the planet), those kids were definitely hiding something. He just had to find out…
#dpxdc#danny fenton#merman#damian wayne#dcxdp#merboy#mermaid au#less angst#fluff#jaws is propaganda#jack fenton#bruce wayne#maddie fenton
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A little Jerome x Reader for @worri-wort! This one's part of a Valentine gift exchange in the Arkham Asylum Discord server. I may have gone a bit over the word limit. Hope you enjoy. Happy Valentine's Day!
Wild Card
Jerome Valeska x Reader - Mostly SFW(vaguely suggestive), small space/proximity, making out, caught in the act, most of this is buildup and banter until the end
🔞Minors DNI🔞
The job seemed simple enough on paper. You and Jerome would attend the Wayne Enterprises Valentine's ball disguised as a wealthy couple. As it was a masquerade event, concealing your identities wouldn't be an issue.
The scheduled speech for the evening would provide the cover you both needed to sneak away from the event and reach the security room. From there, it was a simple matter of waiting for the others, and finally putting your hostile takeover of the building into action. Easy.
Or... So you had thought.
Jerome had his own plans, far less subtle than what you'd been told. Given who he was and what he was like, maybe you shouldn't have been surprised. But as he shot the emcee in the head and dragged you on stage with him, you had to question just what he was thinking. But you didn't get to ask as a dramatic speech and the reveal of his own gunmen in the crowd soon led to a successful hostage situation.
Until it wasn't.
So much had transpired, your mind was racing, and now Jerome was dragging you through the corridor as the GCPD had, somewhere along the line, gained the upper hand. The next thing you knew, you found yourself hiding in a supply closet, chest-to-chest with your absolute wildcard of a partner.
"Why?" You asked bitterly.
"Why what?"
You almost wanted to slap that shit-eating grin off his stupid face. It hadn't left him once, even as the tide turned against you. "Why couldn't you just stick to the plan?"
"I did," he cackled. "My plan!"
You sighed and buried your face in your hands. Already, this conversation had exhausted you. "Yeah well... Could've at least let me in on the joke," you mumbled, barely audible. A long silence passed between you, and when he finally broke it, it wasn't quite what you were expecting.
"Wanna make out?"
"I'm sorry!?"
"It's okay, I forgive you," he snickered. The unamused look you gave him in response prompted him to sigh and roll his eyes. "Look. It's Valentine's Day, we're at a party, you're my date..."
"Fake date."
"Okay, okay! Fake date. But this whole thing..." With what limited space he had, he gestured between the two of you. "I mean it doesn't have to be."
You could only stare at him, speechless as you realized he was being serious. Not something you were used to in your interactions with him, but at the moment... Well, you had to admit, it wasn't completely unwelcome. As vexing as he could be at times, there was an undeniable attraction there.
"So?" He asked again. "You wanna make out?"
"...Y-yeah! Okay!"
No sooner did he have your consent than he moved in, his lips on yours. Dry and a little rough, but eager. As if he'd been waiting for this moment the whole night. In truth, he had. Although, as much as he enjoyed the proximity, a dimly lit supply closet wasn't quite what he had in mind.
Less than ideal circumstances aside, you reciprocated with an equal passion. Your fingers brushed the scars on one side of his face, and it was all the signal he needed to wrap his arms around your waist and(somehow), draw you in closer.
It was as his tongue began to probe your lips that the door swung wide open. "GCPD! You're under arrest!"
"Don't you know how to knock?" Jerome mocked as one of the cops grabbed and cuffed him, another doing the same to you. Your moment of intimacy had been cut short.
"Cock blocked by the GCPD. Who'd a thunk?" But Jerome wouldn't let it dampen his spirits. "Don't worry, babe. We'll finish this in Arkham."
The smile and sly wink he gave you as he spoke... As you were being taken away, you could feel your face begin to heat up. The smile and sly wink he gave you told you all you needed to know. That this wasn't an offer or mere flirtation, but a promise.
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This Bruce Wayne
Val! Bruce Wayne x Reader
Gender neutral reader
Requested by @potashiuhm
♡♡♡
Living in Gotham, you were used to all sorts of characters. Gotham was full of interesting and unusual people. Gotham was known for it.
Gotham was also known for Wayne Enterprises. Bruce Wayne is the richest man in the city. Everyone knows who he is, so when he walks into the room, all attention is on him.
Like now, as you stand to the side at one of his company’s galas, he has arrived and without introduction to anyone people gather to greet him. You watch from the other side of the room as he smiles at people and shakes their hands.
You’re here to write an article about his company, but you would rather be writing about the things happening in Gotham that some people seem to forget. The people who live here, but are struggling, all the while Brue Wayne is throwing a huge party for his company wearing a suit that probably costs more than your apartment.
Any story would be more appealing to you than Bruce Wayne.
You turn back to the gathering crowds in the room and ignore him. You had no reason to actually talk to him, just to report on his party. You don’t quite understand why there was a need for an article, other than just to make him look good to people. You roll your eyes at the thought.
Turning your back in his direction, you go to get yourself another drink and perhaps take a peek at the food being served. Maybe you can make a comment about that in the article.
Standing over the table filled with lots of wonderful looking treats, you think about what you’re actually going to say in your article. You have to pretend to actually like the man for it to be convincing. Your boss knew about your disdain for the man, but at the same time would remind you that you don’t actually know Bruce Wayne. You would just reply with ‘I don’t have to know him to not like him,’ and then just walk away.
The billionaire just caused you to have such a burning rage for him, even though he hadn’t actually done anything to spark this hatred. He just... existed.
Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed the very man you were thinking about approaching you.
Bruce Wayne knows you. He reads your articles often. Mostly, they are about him. You have a way with words that certainly captivate your audience, and for that he finds your articles fascinating. However, within your words he finds some... resentment. Though you try to disguise it, he can’t help thinking you don’t like him for some reason. Your words come off as strained to him sometimes.
So, seeing you here, he had to approach you.
A tap to your shoulder has you turning around and coming face to face with Bruce Wayne. Shock immediately sets in. During all these parties you’ve ever come to in order to write an article, you have never come face to face with Wayne ever.
This was a new development; one you can’t say you were too pleased about.
“Mr Wayne,” you say, finding your voice.
He smiles. It’s polite and his eyes seem to light up slightly. This smile was genuine, and you began to wonder where this was going.
“An honour to have you here,” he says.
You look around you briefly, wondering if he was actually talking to you or not.
“Me? Shouldn’t people be telling you that it’s an honour to meet you?”
Bruce laughs. You grow all the more confused.
“I suppose I do hear that often enough. Still, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says, holding out his hand.
You glance at it before reaching for it.
“You know who I am?” You ask him.
His smile seems all the more cheerful. “I do.”
You lower your hand after shaking his and stand awkwardly in front of him. He doesn’t seem to mind though.
“I read your articles,” he admits.
“Oh. I see.”
“Fascinating work,” he says.
“You think it’s fascinating? My works are mostly about you, why would that fascinate you? I’m pretty sure you’re aware about what happens at your events.”
He chuckles. You have a bite to you, and he likes that.
“Almost aware of everything. This is the first time I’ve actually taken notice of you being at one at these.”
You grin. “I prefer it when you don’t know I’m here.”
Bruce laughs again.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?”
“What gave it away?” You ask, dropping your smile. You might as well be honest with him since he seems to know already.
“Your words. Though you say such wonderful things about me and my company, I can’t help picking up your spite for me. Have I done something to offend you?” He asks.
You stare at him.
The way he is looking at you seems a little... sorrowful. He seems bothered by your lack of interest in him.
“I... uh... Well, I...” You can’t seem to think of what to say. It’s only then you perhaps realise what it is you hate about him. “It’s not exactly your fault...”
“I don’t understand,” he says.
You look around you. People are looking.
“Forget it. It was.... nice meeting you. I’ll be on my way now. I have all I need.”
You go to walk past him, but he reaches out, lightly brushing his hand with yours before pulling it back again. You stop as you glance at him, seeing his eyes shift to the floor before looking back up at you again. He hides his hands behind his back as if to stop himself from reaching out again.
“Don’t go,” he says.
You glance around you again. People are still looking.
“I have to, I’m sorry.”
You bow out, leaving as quickly as possible. Bruce wants to go after you and pick up where you left off, but his attention is soon stolen away by some other guests. However, as they talk to him, he can’t help but look up at the doors you just disappeared through.
A few days later you’re sitting at your desk. You had written the article from the gala that night and it had been published yesterday. You were currently gathering information for your next one. As you were scrolling through the web, your mail for the day gets dropped off at your desk. You stop your scrolling to pick it up and go through it.
The first couple envelopes were some potential story leads for your next one, which you would have to run by your boss. Though you know he’ll say know because he just wants to write about Wayne.
The last one was different. You stare at the envelope. Your name was written in neat penmanship on the front. You flip it over and open it, taking out the note inside. The writing on it was the same neat handwriting from the envelope, and you just knew who it was from.
The note was an invitation to Wayne manor.
You scrunch it up and toss it into the waste basket by your foot. You were not going to walk into that.
As you throw the note out, your boss walks by.
“What is that?”
“Nothing, just rubbish,” you say, turning back to your computer.
Your boss doesn’t believe you and bends down to fetch it out of the basket. You groan as they open it and read it.
“An invitation to Wayne manor? And you’re throwing it out?”
“Yes.”
“Go.”
You look up at your boss.
“What? No! I already attend his parties for you, I am not going to his house.”
“You are. We’ll need another story to tell, so why not tell one from inside his home. Give his fans and admirers something new to think about,” your boss says.
“No.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”
You glare at them. They glare back at you.
“Bruce Wayne has invited you to his home. It has your name on it and everything. You will go to his house. You will get another story. You will do it because I am telling you to do it.”
You sit back in your chair in defeat.
“Fine.”
Your boss smiles at you and leaves the note on your desk. You glare at it.
Damn him.
As the evening rolls in, you find yourself outside of his home. You’re buzzed through the gates and told to wait by the door. You sigh as you look around. The door opens and you turn to find yourself with someone you don’t know.
“Oh, um, hello,” you say.
“Mr Wayne is this way,” the man says, gesturing for you to follow him. You step inside and wait for him to close the door before following him in to the house.
You gather this is probably Wayne’s butler, because of course he has a butler.
You’re led into a nice open room where Bruce is standing by a fireplace, waiting for you. He seems pleased to see you.
“Thank you, Alfred,” he says. The man beside you bows his head and leaves. “You came,” he smiles.
“You invited me...”
Bruce’s smile falls.
“You don’t want to be here,” he says.
“My boss told me to come, otherwise no, I wouldn’t be here.”
Bruce gestures to the sofa in front of him. You sigh softly and sit down, looking around the room a little. It seems nice in here, though a little cold. You get the feeling he doesn’t spend much time in here.
“Why don’t you like me?” He asks.
“Is that why you invited me here?” You ask in return, turning to him.
“No... well, actually, yes.”
“You invited me to your home because you’re so bothered about one person not liking you?” You clarify.
“Not just one person. You.”
“This is a waste of time. I’ll write something lovely about your home, but I think I’m done here,” you get up ready to leave, but Bruce steps forward. His hand rises from his side, but he lowers it again. He’s restraining himself from stopping you.
“Please don’t leave again,” he pleads.
“What is it with you?” You ask him.
“I want to know why you don’t like me so much. I’ve never been bothered by this before, but now I’ve met you; I want to know.” He knits his eyebrows together and his lips pull into a frown.
You can’t help thinking he would look far more handsome with his smile.
“It’s not you. It’s the fact I have to write about you,” you say, sighing softly.
“I don’t understand,” he says.
“Look, I don’t have anything against you. I just didn’t want my career to be just writing everything about you and your company, and your galas, and the girls you take home. So many things happen in Gotham, but no one knows about them because all Gotham wants to hear about is who Batman is chasing away at night, and what Bruce Wayne is up to.
“I’m sure you are lovely underneath that public appearance, and I’m sure Batman is a swell guy, but I wanted to be a reporter when I was little. I wanted to report on the little things and make them more important than they are now. People forget half of Gotham struggles to pay their bills and feed their families. I could be making a difference in the world, but my boss sends me off to your parties only to get an article about the exact same stuff I saw last time.”
Bruce stands there listening to you.
“I don’t hate you. I hate that I have to write about you every single week while people struggle to live,” you confess.
Bruce bows his head down in silent thought. You watch him quietly, wondering what’s going on in that mind of his.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Sorry? For what?”
“For your boss thinking I’m more important than the people of Gotham. Perhaps I can help in some way.”
You shake your head.
“You don’t have to. Thank you for inviting me here, but I’ve got all I need now.”
Bruce steps forward again.
“Please stop trying to leave,” he smiles softly. “I would very much like to help you.”
“How?”
Bruce smiles at you.
A week later and you’re awaiting the responses from your article. Bruce and you had sat down and come up with a plan. Bruce threw a charity gala to raise funds for the poorer side of Gotham. You felt like he was just doing this because he wanted you to stay longer, but two days after that chat, Bruce threw the event and went off without a hitch. You attended as his guest of honour and spoke to some of his acquaintances.
Not only did he put in a large donation himself, but he raised quite a bit of money from his guests. At the end of the night, he went with you in person to donate the money. A day later you heard back from the charity thanking you for what you did. They were going to put those funds toward helping people.
You wrote all about it.
The responses were overwhelming. You had written about Bruce in a different light to your usual articles and people loved it. Your boss was over the moon as they patted you on the back and celebrated with the office.
As you were leaving work, you saw a sleek black car waiting outside of the building. Standing by it was Alfred. You walk over to it and watch him open the door for you. You climb inside and find Bruce smiling at you.
“I liked your article,” he grins.
You chuckle softly.
“You helped me write it.”
He smiles even brighter.
“Your boss just has you write about all the friends I have, and all the money I put into parties, all the girls I’m seen with. You don’t get to write about this Bruce Wayne, the one sitting here with you. I do what I can for Gotham, more than you know, but people don’t get a chance to see it often. You helped me.”
You look at him in silence.
His hand gently covers yours on the seat between you. Your eyes glance down at them and then back at him.
“Bruce....”
“Maybe you could write more about this Bruce,” he suggests.
“I would like that,” you smile.
He smiles softly too, his eyes bright. You like this Bruce.
“It’s a date then.”
Maybe there was still hope or Gotham after all.
#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#val bruce wayne#val kilmer bruce wayne#batman#batman forever#val bruce wayne x reader#val kilmer#val kilmer x reader#request
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Baby’s First Hero
AO3
Prev
Clark’s eyebrows shoot up as his jaw drops. When Batman had said he wanted to tell Clark who he was under the mask, Clark had not been expecting…this.
“You seem shocked.” Batman- no, Bruce freaking Wayne, says. Clark swears the other man’s lips twitch slightly, as if he’s suppressing a smile. Clark scoffs.
“Well of course I’m shocked. You’re- Bruce Wayne is- you’re smart.” He says, stumbling over his words. Bruce quirks an eyebrow up.
“Yes. I am.” He says simply. Clark huffs.
“I can’t believe you’re a freaking billionaire.” He grumbles. He should have at least suspected it, but as far as he knew, none of the other heroes in the League were rich. Which, again, he should’ve guessed that at least one of his teammates had some money. Another thought hits him and his eyes go wide.
“What?” Bruce asks, obviously hesitant.
“You’re a dad. Robin isn’t just a sidekick, you’re- wow.” He says. Bruce winces slightly and Clark suddenly remembers the articles about Dick Grayson. About the boy whose parents died tragically and the billionaire playboy who adopted him. “That’s really awesome, Bruce.” He adds, not missing the tension that had appeared in Bruce’s shoulders. Before he can say anything else, his phone rings. Smiling apologetically, Clark pulls it out and hits the answer button.
“Clark! How’re you doing, little brother?” Tom asks, immediately making Clark smile.
“I’m fine. How’re you guys doing? How’s the baby?” He asks. Tom chuckles.
“We’re all fine. Sabine and I were actually invited to a baking competition in DC. And we were wondering if you would want to watch Marinette for a couple of days.” He offers. Clark blinks.
“Really? Me? Like, by myself?” He asks.
“If you’re up for it. If not, I’m sure I could get my mom to watch her. But I know you aren’t able to come to Paris as much as you want, so I wanted to give you the option.” Tom says. Clark doesn’t even think about the logistics. Like the fact that his niece, who isn’t even a year old, will need around the clock supervision. Something that would be difficult for a superhero journalist to provide. He doesn’t think of any of that though. Instead, he just says:
“I’d love to watch her.”
---
“You really didn’t have to come with me to pick her up.” Clark says, arms crossed as he stands next to Bruce outside of the terminal. Bruce shrugs.
“You seemed panicked at the idea of taking her home in a cab. I have plenty of cars, and Dick’s at a friend’s house today.” He says, keeping his head slightly down. The man had sunglasses and a hat on in addition to an outfit that was far more casual than he’d ever seen ‘Brucie Wayne’ wear in public before. Clark wasn’t sure if the man’s disguise was obvious to everyone, or if Clark just thought it was obvious because he knew the man was trying to hide. Either way…
“Clark!” A familiar voice calls, making Clark glance up and grin widely. He walks towards his brother quickly, immediately hugging the man before giving Sabine a smaller side hug (since she was holding Marinette and he didn’t want to crush her).
“How was your flight?” He asks, and Sabine smiles.
“Surprisingly, quiet. Marinette slept almost the entire time. Though I’m afraid that means her schedule may be a bit off for you.” She says apologetically. Clark just grins.
“It’s fine. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” He says, before glancing back at Bruce who was standing awkwardly where he’d left him. Clark nods towards his brother and sister in law, and Bruce hesitates slightly before walking over.
“Hi.” He says quietly. Clark rolls his eyes, grinning.
“Tom, Sabine, this is my friend Bruce. Bruce, this is my brother and his wife.” Clark introduces the three, grinning at Bruce’s awkward attempt at a smile. He’d quickly discovered, after the reveal that Bruce Wayne was Batman, that ‘Brucie Wayne’ was very much an act. And that the man in question was actually very awkward, especially around strangers. How he had managed to pull off the ‘airhead socialite who loves parties’ for so many years was beyond Clark.
“Nice to meet you.” Bruce says. Tom smiles.
“You too. I’m glad Clark has some good friends up here. I know Martha and Jonathan were worried about him living in such a big city.” He says before glancing down at his watch and wincing. “We’ll have to catch up more when we pick Marinette up. I don’t wanna miss our next flight.” He says apologetically. Clark just waves it off, taking Marinette gently as Bruce takes the bag that Tom held out.
“Don’t worry about it. Let me know when you guys land safely, okay?” He asks. Tom nods, giving one last wave before he and Sabine walk away. Clark turns to Bruce, a thought suddenly entering his head.
“Uh, Bruce?” He says. Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Did you think to bring a carseat?”
---
It turns out that although Bruce didn’t think of a carseat, Alfred had. Apparently Alfred Pennyworth was Bruce’s butler/father figure/caretaker/advisor. He was a man who wore many hats. Lucky for them, because he would not have wanted to wait at the airport with Marinette while Bruce went out to try and find a carseat that would work for her. Setting Marinette down on a blanket with a few toys, Clark smiles and takes a step back.
“Thank you, for everything.” He says. Bruce nods.
“It was no problem. I do have one more thing, though, before I leave.” He says. Clark raises an eyebrow.
“What is it?” He asks. Bruce sighs, raising a finger up.
“I left the bag in the car. I’ll be right back.” He says, before slipping out of the apartment. Clark shrugs, plopping down on the ground next to Marinette, who simply giggled at him.
“Hey Sunshine, are you excited to spend time with your Uncle?” He asks, laughing as she coos and babbles back at him, crawling towards him. Just as Clark is beginning to think Bruce jumped in his car and drove away, he walks in.
“Sorry about that. Dick called to remind me about the onesies.” He says. Clark frowns.
“Onesies?” He asks. Bruce nods.
“When I told him that your niece is a baby, he insisted that we buy a onesie with my symbol on it, a onesie with your symbol on it, and a onesie with Diana’s symbol on it. So that she could decide on the best hero.” He says. Unable to stop himself, Clark laughs, shaking his head.
“That’s amazing. How do we do it?” He asks. Bruce’s lips twitch, a small smile forming on his face.
“According to Dick, we have to set them out next to each other and then let her crawl to them. Whichever one she picks will have the ‘honor of best hero’ until there’s a new baby to pick.” Bruce says. Clark snorts.
“Is he hinting that he wants a younger sibling?” He asks. Bruce shrugs, laying the onesies out on the floor.
“We can’t sit by them or the results would be biased.” He says. Clark nods in agreement, setting Marinette back a couple of feet from the onesies before moving to stand by Bruce and the door. Marinette glances up at them, giggling before crawling forward.
“What do we do if she picks Diana?” Clark asks. Bruce hums lightly.
“I suppose we have to tell her. Dick certainly would, and I don’t think either of us could actually lie to her.” He says. Clark snorts. His friend definitely had a point. Watching his niece head immediately towards the blue onesie with his symbol on it, Clark tries not to smile too widely. His smile falls as she pauses, tilting her head as she starts to change direction and head towards the Bat symbol. Glancing at Bruce, Clark doesn’t miss the smile on his friend’s face. He definitely doesn’t miss as the smile starts to fall, making him look back at his niece. She’d completely stopped just in front of the onesies. Clark holds his breath as she grins before lunging forward and grabbing the red onesie, giggling.
“Do we have to tell her?” Clark asks with a sigh. Bruce just nods.
“Unfortunately.” He says. Clark sighs again, but can’t stay upset. Not with his adorable niece giggling like a madman as she cuddles the red onesie. Maybe he could convince Diana to come meet her at some point.
Next
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The Wayne Kids Wreck Galas and Parties
Bruce used to hold a party or gala at the manor anywhere up to four times a year (so, once every three months-ish.)
Now, though, Wayne Manor Parties have a reputation for being disasters. Wayne Galas hosted literally anywhere except the mansion are fine. (Usually.) But the minute you get onto the mansion grounds *shudders* the kids consider it fair game.
This tradition started when Dick, forced back to Gotham for the galas, saw Very Uncomfortable Street Kid Jason trying to hide behind a pillar, and thought “oh god. Poor child. I'm going to go squirrel him away from the adults.”
This is also one of the first times Jason and Dick bonded! Also the first time Dick ever felt older brother instincts and was like must protecc baby. This Dick Grayson went “hmm, what is this strange protective feeling I have???” Older Dick Grayson has 5 legally adopted siblings plus 1 emotionally adopted sibling and absolutely knows what his big brother instincts are.
Admittedly Dick is still an attention magnet but it was easier for Jason to handle everything with Dick placing himself squarely between Jason and the other people. People trying to get around Dick and reach Jason would not succeed. Do not try to out-stubborn Dick Grayson. It simply will not work.
Then it turned into shenanigans! Just the two of them fucking with the rich people. Dick grew up in a circus. He wasn't poor, but he wasn't wealthy. His opinion of people who flaunt their wealth THIS MUCH is… not super high. Jason’s is very low.
Barbara saw what they were doing and was also like “hm. Protecc baby. Also: shenanigans.” Do not let her fool you, okay, Babs is a troll and an agent of chaos. Oracle spent her spare time cyber-trolling supervillains and she’s an icon for it.
Anyway Dick and Bruce actually have a fight afterward the gala and it’s basically "Bruce thinks Dick is jealous that Jason is getting the spotlight but Dick actually saw that Jason was deeply uncomfortable and thinks it was wrong of Bruce to put him in that position" and Jason is just frantically trying to make them stop yelling, and then Babs just steps in the middle and says wearily, "Both of you, shut up. Bruce, he is trying to tell you that Jason is clearly uncomfortable with the attention and that Dick thinks you need to do more to protect him from that."
Alfred says, "I agree that Master Jason looked uncomfortable, Master Bruce."
Bruce turns to Jason, crouches down, concerned, and asks him. Jason, shifting on his feet, mumbles out that he's never been in situations like this. (I.e. parties of stuffy rude adults who are thinly disguising insults.) Bruce immediately feels guilty.
He actually thanks Dick quietly before he leaves. Dick half says yeah of course and half calls Bruce an asshole for not noticing. Bruce is just glowing though because! Dick is looking after Jason!!!
From then on, Jason is usually not particularly visible at galas, and if he is he's hiding behind Dick, Babs, or Bruce. He's definitely there though. Because things subtly go wrong, or Dick accidentally spills his drink on someone who's being rude while Jason snickers behind him. It's just Barbara, Dick, and Jason causing trouble in ways that you know they're responsible for but nobody can actually prove. People mutter about it, and some say “oh, it's the street kid’s fault.” It's not; most of it is executed by Babs, since she's less visible than Dick and Jason. Jason is simply here to watch while Dick and Babs mess with people.
Bruce and Gordon are suffering. So is Lucius.
Alfred turns a blind eye. Every time.
Kate enables them too much. Kate absolutely loves these chaos children. They are angel children and she adores them how dare you imply they would ever—
Then Barbara gets paralyzed. She doesn't go to parties much in the year after that, but when she does, once or twice – no matter where they are, whether they're at the manor, even if Bruce isn't hosting – Jason is there, and anyone stupid enough to make a rude comment about Barbara's injury trips and falls on their face. (Generally, before that, Jason skipped the parties that weren't Bruce-hosted, citing school. After, though, where she was he was.)
The mayor, at one point, says something, and Barbara can only grit her teeth as he walks away. Ableist fuck, she thinks bitterly.
And then he trips, spilling red wine all over his crisp white suit, and goes stumbling face-first into the cake on the dessert table. He bolts up, spluttering, looking around furiously.
Someone... someone tripped him, Barbara realizes.
Jason appears at her shoulder and smirks at her, rolling a marble back and forth in his fingers. He was too far away to be considered responsible, but he has always had uncannily good aim. And in the ruckus, Barbara laughs, genuine and loud and clutching at her stomach, the hardest she has laughed since she lost user of her legs. Jason grins at the sound, bright and wide, eyes dancing. The mayor is glaring at them. Barbara does not care. Jason curls a hand on her shoulder and whispers fiercely, "fuck them all, Barbie. They have no idea how strong you are." Barbara grasps his hand, eyes stinging, and in that moment she has never loved him more. Because the others saw her as fragile and injured, but Jason never ever looked at her as lesser. He looked at her with faith, faith that she was strong enough, and she has never been more grateful.
Jason dies, less than a year after Barbara was paralyzed.
Her greatest regret is that she never told him that he was her brother. That she never told him she loved him, for the fire in his blood and the sunlight in his eyes.
Jason dies, and Dick retreats from the world. They don’t mess around at parties anymore. Dick doesn't go at all. He doesn’t care what the media says, or what Bruce says, not anymore. When Barbara does go – when she has to go, she goes just short of kicking and screaming – she grits her teeth and tries not to turn around and look for Jason sneaking between the tables. One time, a month or so after his death, someone is fool enough to make a comment about him. Barbara may be in a wheelchair, which makes it hard to stumble into someone, but rolling over their toes is just as satisfying. She apologizes profusely, but all she feels is vicious satisfaction. Her father frowns at her. She holds her head high.
The one, single time Dick is dragged into coming, someone is stupid enough to say something within earshot of him. Dick whirls around and punches them with no hesitation. All the party-goers shout in alarm, stunned. Dick refuses to apologize. "If you want to insult Jason," he snarls, "you'd better damn well make sure I never find out about it." And then he storms out of the venue, head held high. Bruce refuses to comment on the incident. He never makes Dick apologize.
Alfred spills hot soup on someone who says something when they think none of the Wayne family can hear. It happens twice, actually.
Bruce doesn't try to pull anything, when someone makes a comment about “the street rat who went and died.” He just levels them with a blazing glare far too intent for Brucie Wayne. "Say that again," he says soft, deadly, "I dare you. Say that about my son again." After that, Gotham's elite stop with the thinly veiled insults about Jason. The Wayne family’s wrath is not worth it, and they do not take kindly to people insulting one of their own.
It's Tim, and Cass, and Steph -- invited as Tim's date -- who restart the tradition.
Tim is a little more used to this scene than the others, but Cass is even less accustomed to it than Jason. And so Dick again stands between a sibling and the media. It’s the right thing to do.
Someone gets too handsy with a woman, and just like Jason would, Cass subtly trips them.
Someone says something ableist about Barbara, and Tim spills his drink on them, apologizing profusely, steel in his eyes.
Someone tries to crowd Cass, and Steph treads on their foot with her heels.
Before they know what’s happening, Dick and Barbara are pulled back in the rhythm of disrupting the party.
Steph dies, Jason comes back, Damian shows up, Steph comes back. By that point, nope, it's chaos. Because if there is one thing all of Bruce's children and sort-of-maybe-not-but-probably-children agree on, it is that parties are stupid and Gotham's elite are rude assholes who absolutely have it coming.
Kate and Selina join the fuckery from time to time.
Duke joins the family and is immediately roped into the chaos.
Not long after, Babs invites Jason to a gala. He’s chilled out and reconnected with the family enough that, even though he’s not legally alive, he is 100% willing to show up and fuck with people. When she invites him, Jason just grins like an absolute bastard. She grins right back. Bruce has no idea what’s coming.
This is when everyone finds out that the "fuck with the rich" tradition was absolutely not started by Tim, Cass, and Steph, but by Dick, Jason, and Babs. Babs fondly tells the story about Mayor Hill faceplanting in a cake, his white blazer and pants covered in red wine. Jason cackles. Dick bursts out laughing, because he hadn't known about that.
So if the entire family is there, 90% chance Jason is too, dressed as wait staff, or wearing a suit and schmoozing. Sometimes he even gets a job as security, though not for Wayne events (Bruce doesn't usually hire much security, since he doesn't want them finding out. Y'know. Batman. Everyone in Gotham thinks he's an idiot for it.) It's approximately ten times more chaotic with Jason there, because he takes everyone’s separate chaos and combines it.
Jason suggests to Damian that he let his pets loose on one party and pretend that they got loose on accident and Damian is like holy shit. So Damian is with Bruce so that he has an alibi (partly with Bruce but mostly with all the nosy people at the party) while Jason lets the animals out. Alfred pretends not to notice.
It's an absolute goddamn mess. Damian is acting frantic, all "FATHER! THEY MUST HAVE GOTTEN OUT OF THEIR ENCLOSURES SOMEHOW!" while trying so hard not to laugh. And the thing is, he and Jason didn't warn anyone about this. So none of the other Bats have a single goddamn clue what's happening, other than that Damian’s animals are loose.
Everyone at the party is going “someone must have let them out!”
But all the children are accounted for???
Because it was Jason.
Bruce knows it was Jason, but Dick and Barbara both swear up and down he was out on the veranda with them the whole time, Bruce, really, and Steph says she did see Jason with them – and after all, Bruce was inside, so he couldn't see where the three of them were standing. So Bruce grudgingly lets it slide.
(Later, he checks the security footage, though he never mentions it to anyone. It’s just out of idle curiosity -- he doesn’t actually mind all that much when his kids mess with people, it’s usually funny and often, their target had it coming. It turns out Jason was absolutely nowhere near the veranda until the last minute, when he appeared just after the animals, barely containing his laughter. Dick and Barbara just covered for him without hesitation, even though they could tell he was responsible. So did Steph.)
(His children are terrible.)
(He loves them dearly.)
Then Jason finally legally comes back from the dead. And by this point, he is absolutely capable of shmoozing with the rich. It's maybe even more of a nightmare than Jason being there while pretending to be someone else.
Every single Wayne manor event gets ruined. Bruce can no longer host at the manor or in the gardens. He's given up. Wayne manor events are dreaded by the entire Gotham elite community because you can't turn it down without looking bad but you know it's going to end horribly. Usually if it’s not at the manor, it’s safe. Usually. 90% of the time. (Okay, fine, it's more like 80%.) But if all the kids are forced to be there, it doesn’t matter if it’s at the manor or if it’s even a Wayne-hosted event. They will wreck it. Look, you're the idiot who put a bunch of bored-out-of-their-minds Batkids in one place. This is on you, man.
Sometimes there's a plan to screw up the party. Usually there isn't, and the kids just improvise.
One time Selina helps them lure approximately three dozen cats into the manor and set them loose on the party, and that is the day Damian decides that Selina is an acceptable partner for Bruce.
The kids eventually take to wearing comm devices so that they can coordinate their shenanigans and Bruce is actually, genuinely dying over here, children you are killing me you are KILLING your father-
Whether he’s dying of laughter or stress or a combination of the two varies from incident to incident.
Bruce has long, long since given up. Honestly, he gave up when Damian joined in and started wrecking his own unique kind of havoc, and that was before Jason started coming again. Lucius and Gordon are suffering. Alfred is quietly amused. Kate and Selina are cackling in the background. The kids think it's hilarious.
#dc#dc comics#batman comics#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#barbara gordon#oracle#cassandra cain#cass cain#black bat#orphan#dc orphan#stephanie brown#steph brown#spoiler#batgirl#tim drake#red robin#damian wayne#robin#duke thomas#signal#alfred pennyworth#batsiblings#batbros#batfam
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Can you make headcanons? as Colins, Billy, Chris and Damian are adopted by Dick because of a superhero emergency and have to live as his children for 6 months, but after those 6 months they don't want to leave.
(I know some people think it's disrespectful to Bruce, but I don't think Damian being adopted would erase his relationship with Bruce, it's like "oh my gosh, now I have two dads") Sorry, english is not my first language
Of course!
don't worry actually my First language is portuguese so it's the same with me
I don't think it's disrespectful and come on Dick is a father figure to a lot of people
"Strays birds"
The justice league was in a mess, they needed to withdraw indefinitely to investigate the scarecrow and his new henchmen, and the worst the new gas mainly affected children,And then Shazam/Captain marvel was taken off the mission almost immediately.
Damian,Colin and Chris are 10, Billy is 12.
As the entire league was out this meant that Clark Kent would also be out for months, after a big selection Dick took it upon himself to take care of clark's foster son Chris.
After much insistence Dick manages to convince Billy to stay in his care too, emphasizing that Billy would still be independent of him, that was just an unusual situation for his own safety.
And just when Dick thought things had calmed down, Damian, his younger brother, Suspicious and constantly self-protective, but managed to open up to the two boys and his new older brother.
Colin came months later, when Damian on one of the rare outings found Colin, an orphan boy who was used in the experiment by the scarecrow, Dick was forced by himself to take care of the redhead.
Dick took everyone to bluehaven with him, compared to Gotham bluehaven was heaven and so much more peaceful
......
Mornings start with the kitchen smelling of scrambled eggs and chocolate milk, sometimes with laughter from the boys and sometimes with Dick trying to cheer them up.
At first Damian and Chris don't understand what Colin and Billy say in slang so Dick would translate for them, but now the four of them have their own language and Dick doesn't understand anything they say
The four have already escaped from the apartment when Dick went to do the monthly shopping, Billy disguised himself as Shazam and one of Dick's coats and so they went to batburgers -bluehaven Version without adult supervision, Dick freaked out.
Damian, who still didn't know anything about the United States other than books and research, ends up spoiling his "brothers" by accident, after all, the wayne-al ghul's fortune is huge and Damian loves to give gifts
Chris speaks Kryptonian when scared, Damian speak mixes of Chinese Arabic and English when scared
Billy and Colin Don't understand an ounce of what is said when Damian and Chris do it.
The four at some point started to treat each other like brothers, Dick ended up becoming a father figure to them without even realizing it.
At some point the boys had to go back or start (in Damian's case) going to school and well it was just a big mess! Damian was suspended for having a kitten in his backpack,Colin kicked a guy, Billy argued with a teacher and Chris refused to participate in physical education classes.
Chris was bullied, Damian and Colin went to defend him, Billy went to appease everyone but they got suspended.
The boys ended up super attached to each other, this started to become clear when Colin disappeared into a crowd of people and everyone freaked out.
Billy helps Damian hide the stray kittens and puppies he catches around
Colin may not like tight spaces but he got used to it and liked getting hugs often.
Damian and Chris are the chaos duo even if the poor kryptonian doesn't realize it, On Chris' first birthday away from his parents they ended up setting the party on fire unintentionally
Six months went by like water running down the sink when Damian couldn't reach the faucet, but none of them were prepared to walk away from each other.
One of the boys ended up calling dick dad by accident, Dick cried
Damian did want to see his father, but at the same time he didn't want to.
Chris sure missed his parents, but felt guilty about leaving his new family.
Colin and Billy eventually got used to living with this messed up family and strangely didn't feel good about leaving it behind.
Now some dialogs!
Dick : What is the problem?
Damian:
Billy :
Colin :
Dick : Where's Chris?
Billy : bath.
Dick : no he doesn't
The three: so...
-----------
Billy trying to give good advice: do what your heart tells you to do
Colin : so i go slepp
Damian and Chris : fine
Minutes later
Dick : Why is the toaster on fire?!
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Dick trying to calm the boys down puts a movie from his childhood
Damian : Why doesn't the wolf enter the house?
Chris : Because the house is made of bricks, Dami
Colin : And the wolf can't break the window?
Billy : We are raising a burglar.
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The tiny three : we can have more cookies?
Billy : What did Dick say?
The tiny three : he said No
Billy : so it's
The tiny three : but...he is not boss of you
Billy : okay okay this is a trap and i know that
The tiny three: You are the worst big brother in the world.
Billy : We can take it when he sleeps
---------------------
I hope you like it ✨:D
@moonderly
#chris kent#batfamily#Dick grayson#damian wayne#colin wilkes#billy batson#dick have four children#jon is with lois at FBI base#bird#robin#batman#batkids
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All Men Have Limits - IV
Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne
Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.
Word Count: 3,800+
Previously on…
As Y/N packed her bags, she was also brainstorming her route once she got to her safe house. She’s just stay there for a couple of nights. Then she’d leave town. Gotham wasn’t safe for her right now. And if she was out of city limits, The Court of Owls had less influence. Though she didn’t doubt they’d send an assassin to the other side of the world to hunt her down.
Y/N looked around her extravagant room.
She doubted she’d ever be back here.
Things were getting…complicated.
It was a cruel reminder for why she kept to herself. People meant drama. Drama meant distractions. And distractions meant she wasn’t focused on the task at hand – which was bringing down the corrupt.
Y/N was just zipping up her duffle when there was a knock on her door.
“Come in!” She turned to see Dick walking in.
He eyed her bag. “What are you doing?”
“I was just about to go pack up my equipment in the cave.”
“No, you’re not. You’re staying here,” he confirmed.
She gave him a repulsed look. “Uhh…No, I am not. This mansion is about to be flooded with unidentified members of The Court.”
“Sure is,” Dick smirked. “But I have a solution.”
He held out his hand to show a bracelet. It looked expensive. The band was gold but there was a giant garnet gemstone at the center of it.
Dick handed it to Y/N.
“You shouldn’t have?” Y/N asked with confusion.
“I called in a favor with an old friend. She’s a magician.”
Y/N tried not to laugh, “A magician?”
Dick gave her a playful glare. “Yeah, a magician. But it’s not tricks and gimmicks. She knows actual magic.” He tapped the gemstone. “When you wear this, you’ll look like a different person. It’s a cloaking spell.”
“Why didn’t you guys suggest this right away?”
Dick sighed. “Bruce isn’t fond of metas and…magic.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just leave?”
“I would rather have you in disguise with our eyes on you, than have you out of reach,” he explained softly. “When you’re wearing this, all of us will still be able to see the real you. But not anyone else.”
“I don’t want to go to this stupid gala. I’ll just wear this and stay in my room or the cave.”
“Well…that’s the other part,” Dick cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re gonna be my date.”
Y/N blinked in surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked her on any kind of date. Not that Dick even asked. He more so told her.
“That wasn’t exactly a request, Dick.”
“Everyone knows everyone. If you’re by yourself, people will ask too many questions. But if you’re my date, no one will think twice why you’re there.”
“I-I don’t have anything to wear…”
Dick laughed lightly. “Alfred already sent out for a dress and shoes for you.”
“…why do I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”
“Come on, Y/N. You know it’s not like that.”
Y/N remained annoyed.
“I’ll be here at your door around 8 tonight, k?” Dick gave her a soft smirk.
“Fine.”
———————
This was just another night for Dick. He’d been dragged to enough of these stupid galas to know the drill: wide smiles, forced laughter, and lay the charm on real thick. With the way this family handled their identities, they could’ve been a family of actors instead of vigilantes.
Dick straightened his cufflinks as he made his way to Y/N’s room.
He could hear the murmur’s of the guest from the ballroom, proving just how many people were attending for the sound to reach him in such a giant manor.
There was a part of Dick that half expected Y/N to be in her usual baggy sweaters and leggings when he opened the door. A silent protest that she wasn’t going to be anyone’s arm candy tonight.
Dick knew he didn’t give her much choice.
When his family had been discussing the situation, Dick tried to off to stay hidden out of sight with Y/N. But Alfred was having none of it. They all knew he took these events rather seriously. Especially one that was started and named after Bruce’s mother.
Dick knocked and turned his back to the door, he double checked there were no guests exploring where they shouldn’t be.
When the door opened, Dick turned around and was stunned to silence.
“Is this bracelet working on you or do I really look that bad?”
Y/N shifted as he stared at her like she’d cast a spell on him.
Dick was seeing Y/N. That was for sure.
“I see the dress fit,” he finally spoke.
What the hell was the matter with him? That’s really what he chose to say?
Though Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “That it does.”
Dick woke up a bit and cleared his throat. “You look…beautiful.”
He never had a problem charming women. So why is he suddenly talking like a total cave man?
“Don’t look so surprised,” Y/N call him out teasingly. “Just because I dress like a scrub every day doesn’t mean I don’t know how to clean up.”
His brow furrowed at the first comment. “You’ve never looked like a scrub, Y/N.”
OK. OK. He was getting back to his normal self.
“Well…” Y/N broke eye contact from her bashfulness. “Thank you.”
Dick held out the hook of his arm. “Shall we?”
Y/N inhaled, “Right.”
As soon as she hooked her hand onto Dick’s bicep, a wave of relief washed over her. She wasn’t doing this alone; she was doing this with him at her side.
“So, what’s the the plan here?” Y/N asked nervously.
“The plan is to blend in. Don’t talk to any press. And…” He smirked. “It wouldn’t hurt to try and have a good time.”
“Right. I’ll try to do that while I’m in a room possibly filled with people who want me dead…” Y/N sighed.
“Not ‘possibly.’ There will be.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Way to make me feel better, Dick.”
He laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time. Damian, Tim, and Bruce will be there, too. And somehow Alfred convinced Jason to even make an appearance. You’re not in this alone, Y/N.”
“Mhmm,” Y/N answered as they arrived to the party. She didn’t bother hiding that she was still extremely nervous and on edge.
“I did really mean it,” Dick told her quietly.
His tone made Y/N tear her eyes away from the party to look at him. “Really mean what?”
“You look beautiful.”
His words didn’t fumble this time. He was confident and clear, leaving no room for doubt or insincerity.
Y/N gave him a shy smile.
“I’m guessing a drink would make this a bit easier, huh?” Dick offered.
“Yes. Yes, it would.”
Dick guided her to the nearest bar.
All the staff knew what the Wayne family looked like. Which meant the bartended skipped over all other guests and b-lined for Dick when he requested a drink, and then looked to Y/N to order what she wanted.
There was loud laughter from a group of people near them. Followed by a voice that Y/N thought she knew, but still sounded a bit off.
When Y/N looked over, she realized it was Bruce talking to a group of guests, who were absolutely fawning over him. He was smiling and laughing, and taking very frequent sips of his drink.
This was Bruce Wayne: the character. Charming playboy, debatable narcissist, and spoiled brat. But in the eyes of Gotham’s elite, he could do no wrong.
Y/N wondered if Bruce had ever considered bringing her as his date. ‘Don’t you start,’ said a voice inside her head.
Dick followed her eye line.
“Doesn’t it make you nauseous watching him like this?” Y/N mumbled.
“Not Dick. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Jason answered.
Dick and Y/N turned to see Jason and Damian.
Yes, Dick adopted Bruce’s charm. But he didn’t rip himself into pieces, building characters that were unrecognizable to the people who actually knew him. Dick’s charm was a part of his personality. His flirtations came naturally. But he only used them on people he intended on building a genuine connection with. (Though Nightwing was guilty of using said charm on targets during missions a few times.)
Y/N looked around for Tim and saw him talking to what appeared to be serious businessman. He was the only one carrying on the legacy at Wayne Enterprises. If any of the boys needed to be here, it was Tim.
“Shouldn’t you guys be making rounds or something?” Y/N asked.
Jason shrugged. “People only cared about us when we were cute kids. Now we’re just spoiled adults who are the product of nepotism.” He smirked down at Damian. “But this one isn’t out of the clear yet.”
“Don’t remind me,” Damian groaned. “At the last one, a woman pinched my cheeks as if I was some toddler.”
“I thought I was about to watch him murder someone,” Dick added.
“I wanted to,” Damian clarified.
Dick started talking to Jason about something.
It provided Y/N the perfect window with the youngest Wayne.
“I’ll sneak you alcohol if you do a mercy killing for me,” she offered Damian.
The boy looked amused but gave no indication that a deal was made.
“Your date that awful?” Jason teased as he smirked at Dick, who ignored him.
“Do you have the hearing of a dog? Fuckin’ Christ.”
The four of them stuck together for most of the night. Tim would touch base with them every so often. But he kept getting dragged away by board members or partners or anyone that wanted to kiss the ass of the future head of Wayne Enterprises.
Dick and Y/N were laughing at Jason about something when Dick’s face suddenly fell as he spotted something on the other side of the room.
“God damn it, Damian.” Dick hissed as he put his drink down on the nearest counter. He turned to Y/N. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”
Y/N just nodded.
But then Jason seemed to spot the youngest brother as well.
“I should probably help him and do some damage control,” Jason sighed.
Y/N laughed and nodded for him to go ahead.
“Now you can see why I avoid these shit shows.”
She laughed but pushed him away, “Go help Dick.”
Now that Y/N was alone, her senses was hyper focused on the party around her.
As she reached for her drink, she noticed that her surrounding area had gone eerily quiet. And she felt far too many eyes on her. There were hushed whispers and even gasps.
“Would you care to dance?” A voice asked from behind her.
Y/N’s entire body tensed.
She turned to see Bruce waiting patiently for her response.
But the look on his face was that of a man she didn’t know.
Bruce had a charming glitter in his eyes and his smirk was arrogant.
Y/N looked around at their audience, then at the dance floor. She was desperately trying to remember the last time she danced with someone.
“Umm…I don’t really know how–” her words came out so slowly.
“How to dance?” Bruce offered.
Y/N nodded.
“You just need a good partner,” he reassured her as he held out a hand.
‘What a fucking line,’ Y/N thought as she tried not to roll her eyes. She half expected him to add a wink.
Bruce guided her to the center of the dance floor and then pulled her closer with his right hand while his left wrapped around her hand.
Y/N wasn’t expecting him to pull her so close, but their body’s were now pressed together.
Bruce moved his mouth to her ear. “Relax,” he murmured.
“It’s hard to relax when you’re using me to set up your new flavor of the week,” she criticized. “Everyone is watching us.”
Bruce may be used to such scrutiny, but Y/N had zero experience with it. And it was safe to say she hated it.
“They’re not looking at me. They’re looking at you,” Bruce corrected.
“A woman who’s not even me. It’s just the dress.”
“I’m happy you like it, seeing as I picked it out,” he commented smugly.
Y/N’s chest tightened at the revelation.
“I see the real you right now, and that’s who I asked to dance.”
Y/N wanted to make a run for it. She didn’t want Bruce with an audience. She just wanted him to herself and she wanted him as he really was.
But her brain shut down for just this song and she followed her heart.
If Y/N concentrated hard enough, she could ignore all the invasive gawking. If she closed her eyes, it was just her and Bruce. So, Y/N tucked her head into his shoulder and let Bruce glide them across the floor.
Somehow she felt that Bruce was allowing himself this as well.
One song was not enough for what they both needed and wanted.
But Y/N would take what she could.
Though what she did not expect was to finally pull away to see Bruce looking utterly heartbroken. As if pulling away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. And for the first time, Y/N legitimately considered that Bruce might want the same thing as she did.
He’ll just never act on his feelings.
If Y/N had blinked, she could’ve missed the moment of honesty and vulnerability Bruce had colored all across his face – bleeding from his eyes.
Because, the next moment, the character was back.
As the party clapped for the band, someone called Bruce’s name. And their locked stare was broken.
And just like that, Y/N was snapped back to reality as if someone threw a bucket of freezing water over her.
Now that Bruce had moved on, no one bothered to keep their voices down. And the upperclass women of Gotham made it loud and clear that they were not pleased with Y/N’s presence.
“Seems he’s found his next prey.”
“She looks half his age, of course he would go for her. Typical man.”
“She’ll eventually learn like we all did.”
“I still say he was the best lay I ever had.”
“Remember when we both slept with him in the same week?”
Now Y/N wasn’t just brought back to reality – she was put in her place.
Before she could even realize what was happening to stop it, her eyes were filled with tears. She had to get out of there.
“Excuse me,” Y/N whispered desperately and she tried to push her way through the crowd.
As soon as she made it outside, she let out a gasp. The fresh air helped, but it wasn’t enough.
There wasn’t any guests outside, but Y/N didn’t feel a safe enough distance from the party. The gardens and maze were in her peripheral and it took her all of two seconds to decide that would be her safe haven.
She hurried through the maze and prayed that no drunken couples had tried to also sneak away from prying eyes.
But when Y/N reached the center of the maze, she was alone.
A fountain sat in the middle and the sound of its moving water calmed Y/N down a bit. But even that couldn’t stop her tears from finally escaping.
Y/N sat on the edge of the fountain as she tried to get a hold of herself. She could only imagine what this was doing her makeup that she spent an hour doing.
‘What a waste,’ she thought.
Her escape was short lived.
Dick called her name repeatedly from a distance.
Y/N panicked at the idea of him catching her crying. She quickly tried to hide any evidence of tears and pull herself together.
Dick finally caught up and let out a sigh of relief from behind her.
“Y/N, you can’t run off like that,” he tried to tell her.
He opened his mouth to lecture her further, but when he finally made it around the fountain and was facing her, his concern shifted.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing,” Y/N struggled to speak without sounding nasally. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You were crying.”
“I’m fine,” she tried to laugh. “Seriously, Dick.”
But he wasn’t having any of it. He moved to sit next to her on the edge of the fountain. Without hesitating, he wrapped an around her shoulder and pulled her into him.
“Come here,” he muttered softly.
Why did it feel so natural for him to do that? Like he’d done it a million times before?
He rubbed her arms. “Jesus. You’re freezing.”
Then he was taking off his suit jacket and putting it over her shoulders. But he didn’t miss a beat, quickly bringing her back into his arms again.
“Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Dick asked after a few minutes of silently comforting her.
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid to me if it made you cry.”
Y/N took in a shaky breath, feeling like she was on the cusp of crying again. “I’m just like the rest of them.”
Dick waited, feeling like she needed to say more before he spoke.
“They were whispering terrible things. But it was everything I already knew. I’m just another stupid girl that managed to convince herself that she was different.”
Dick was silent as he processed his words. It wasn’t hard for him to know Y/N was talking about Bruce, even thought she never uttered his name.
“I’ve got an idea,” Dick announced. “Let’s ditch this stupid gala. Get out of these clothes. Put on some sweatpants. And I’ll have Alfred order us as much pizza and wings as you want.”
Now Y/N wanted to cry for a completely different reason.
Dick was the sweetest man she’d ever met.
“Sound like a plan?” He asked her when she didn’t respond and instead just stared into his blue eyes.
Y/N nodded.
“We can even invite my good-for-nothing brothers if that’ll make you happy.”
Her first instinct was to say yes. They all amused her beyond belief. Watching the way they all interacted with each other was like watching a reality show. And it was always obvious how much they loved each other deep down – even with Damian, who would rather die than admit such a thing.
But if all of them were included, who knew when Bruce would eventually make an appearance. And Y/N just didn’t think she could be in a room with him again tonight.
“Just you and me,” she clarified.
That seemed to please Dick and he nodded.
“Just you and me,” he confirmed as he offered her a hand up.
When they started walking back to the manor, Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close to his side.
“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me,” but she said it through a smile.
Dick looked a bit nervous, but nodded. “Alright.”
“Do you know how to order takeout on your own?”
Dick threw his head back and laughed. “How dare you!”
He pinched her waist, making her yelp. But he didn’t let her escape his hold. “Yes, I do. In fact, when I’m at my own place, I live off takeout. And let me tell you, no one can order food quite like I can. Thank you very much.”
Once they reached the second floor of the manor, the two of them parted ways to changed out of their fancy clothes.
Y/N washed her face, scrubbing the layers of makeup off. But before she could rid herself of the evidence, she noticed the smeared mascara and eyeliner.
Words could not describe the relief of putting on baggy sweatpants and a hoodie and fluffy socks after wearing a fitted gown and high heels.
30 minutes later, just as promised, Dick was bringing up a huge pizza and a box of wings to Y/N’s bedroom.
They ate on the floor. Dick managed to light the fireplace that was in there, because Y/N didn’t know what to do with the thing. The television was on, but neither of them were watching it. It was simply white noise.
Two hours later, Y/N was laughing so hard at a story Dick was telling her that she had tears in her eyes and her stomach hurt.
“I don’t believe you!”
“I’m not kidding. Ask Jason. He took my clothes and I was ass naked, running through the streets of Gotham. I wanted to kill him.”
Y/N grabbed another wing and got sauce all over her face.
“What?” She asked when Dick was watching her with adoration. “Do I have sauce on my face?”
He tried to hide his smile. “Nope.”
She knew he was lying and then purposely smeared more sauce around her lips. “How about now? Do I have anything now?”
“No. Nothing.”
“On a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive am I right now?” Y/N laughed as she wiped the sauce off her face with napkins.
“11,” Dick responded without hesitating.
The playfulness was sucked out of the room when they both heard how serious his tone was.
Y/N’s face went somber as she looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.” She laughed lightly, “I’m a lousy date, huh?”
“That’s not true,” he immediately shot down. “This is the most fun I’ve had…” His words died out when he realized he couldn’t even remember. “Well, it’s the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”
“Me too,” she replied with a quiet sweetness.
Through her full-body laughter, she had moved closer to Dick without realizing it.
He glanced at her lips. He just couldn’t help himself.
The thing about Dick wearing his heart on his sleeve was that it was nearly impossible for him to hide his feelings, his desires. It was all in those blue eyes of his, waiting to easily be read by someone.
And while Y/N looked at him looking at her, she felt beautiful. Because that was all Dick could possibly think as he stared at her.
Neither knew who leaned in first. Perhaps this was their dance that they weren’t able to have earlier.
But they made up for it by sharing an impassioned kiss now.
Dick’s lips were softer than Y/N expected. His hands gripped her waist possessively, making it very clear what he wanted – but still being ever so gentle and soft with his touches.
One of Dick’s hands moved from her waist up her back to tangle his fingers in her hair. He tugged on the strands and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.
They both could slightly taste the pizza and wings on each other’s lips, but neither of them cared at all.
The kiss didn’t last long enough for either of their liking.
But Y/N pulled away anyways, gasping for air a bit.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he whispered through hooded eyes as he brushed some hair away from her face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile,” he added with a smirk.
But Y/N wasn’t really sorry about the kiss.
She was sorry because she knew that things were far more complicated than ever.
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Part V
Happy Valentine’s Day!!!
Please, please, please write me a book report of what he thought of this chapter. It will be your VDay gift to me 😘
#all men have limits part 4#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne reader insert#bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson reader insert#batfam#dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne#batman x reader#nightwing x reader#batboys#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing
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Getting to the truth.
You’re Bruce’s assistant, but more than that, you’re his friend – his only friend. So, naturally, when he arrives at his own party injured and looking worse for wear, you’re worried. But there’s more than one truth-bomb in store for you!
Note: I had no idea how to finish this one, so it’s a bit garbage (you have no idea how much I wanted to change it up and have it basically be the fic version of Secretary, but alas, this is boring and smut free), but I’m so here for an emo millennial Bruce Wayne and a lil but of humour with my angst.
“Why am I organising a ball for all of Gotham, when Bruce won’t show up?” you sighed, turning to Alfred.
“Listen, I’m just the butler. How am I supposed to know what Master Bruce gets up to at night?”
“You live here, Alfred.”
Alfred leaned in close, peering at you from above his round spectacles. “And you’re his very beloved assistant.”
“Don’t remind me,” you huffed. “They’re only showing up for him, you know. They don’t care about the Wayne Foundation. Orphanages and education. He’s the richest man in Gotham, and no one’s seen him in years. The press would kill for a glimpse too.”
Alfred was fond of you. He always had been. He reckoned you brought a little bit of light to the place the second you walked into Wayne manor, fresh out of college. So, you knew his words were sincere when he spoke, with a gentle pat on the arm. “Well I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”
“Good enough for me,” you said, turning towards the door. “I’m going home to get ready. There’s a new Dior suit hanging in the wardrobe. Tell the boss to wear it, will you? And remind him to tuck his shirt in. That’s if he decides to show up.”
It was a night of your own making, and you watched it unfold from the lobby. Checking off names. Stopping drunken high society snobs from vomiting into 17th century vases. Directing everyone and their dog towards the bathrooms. But, for the most part, you found yourself alone, dancing with yourself in the cracks of pale moonlight that streamed like silver ribbons on to the sparkling checkerboard floor. No sign of your boss.
Until something caught you off guard. Quiet, shuffling footsteps over by the study at the foot of the staircase. A dark figure emerged from the shadows, hobbling, ascending. Step by step.
“Hey! You can’t go up there!” you called.
The figure moved faster, breaking into a pained jog.
With nothing else to do, you threw off your heels and sprinted after the intruder. Taking the stairs two at a time. They were heading for Bruce’s bedroom. No one, not even the various women he liked to entertain – not even you, as close as you were – went in there. He was a tremendously private man.
Finally, reaching out, you managed to grab their arm.
The figure flinched away in pain, then they turned to you.
“Bruce?” you gasped, feeling your heart race at the sight of him. His dark hair, unkempt and dishevelled; jet black rings around his eyes. His whole body seemed to tremble and heave. “What happened to you?”
“It’s nothing,” he said. Then he broke out into a witter. “Go back downstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, I’d hate to miss out on all of your hard work. I just need to–”
But you pulled him back, swiping your thumbs through the muck beneath his eyes. They were blue, but they always looked so dark. Like a pained void. “You need to clean yourself up. Let me help you.”
“You don’t need to see me like this. Go and enjoy your evening. I’m speaking to you as your boss. Please. Go.”
“Yes, Mr. Wayne.” You straightened up at his words and turned away. But before you reached the stairs, he called your name. If looks could kill, Bruce might have been a heap on the floor. But those eyes, again, dulled any hurt you felt about the distance between you.
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
You couldn’t look him in the eye. It was a battle even just to thank him politely for the compliment. And your legs shook all the way back to the lobby, through a strange mix of worry and giddiness.
You kept yourself to yourself for twenty minutes, alone with your panic, before Bruce returned. Gone was the darkness around his eyes, and his hair was neatly slicked back. He cut a strong, proud figure as he walked towards you in his suit. Even if he was sporting a limp and clutching his side with every step.
“I thought I told you to enjoy the party?” he smiled.
“Sorry, Bruce. There’s just no one to watch the door and show people where the…” You trailed off as he gently took your arm, leading you through into the reception hall. A warmth radiated from him, soothing but stoic. Nothing like the frantic panic from before.
“Help me get through this,” he muttered as the room fell silent. All eyes on you and Bruce.
The party quickly resumed; music played and the chatter of the guests around you echoed through the hall. Occasionally, beneficiaries of the Wayne Foundation would introduce themselves to your boss, or business bigwigs would try to bend his ear about trade deals and contracts and bureaucracy. But one thing was constant throughout the whole ordeal – Bruce’s hand never once left its place on your waist.
You could feel it there. The way his fingers would trail through the material of your dress as people talked and talked and talked to him. And the tension, when he balled his fingers up into a fist when faced with people that he just didn’t have time for. All those little cues forced the question from your lips. “Would you like to dance?”
You knew he didn’t dance. He hated it, in fact. But in that moment, the gratitude was evident on his small, weak smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Something was wrong, though. He flinched when your hand draped over his shoulder. His gait was unsteady. And no amount of makeup could disguise the bruise underneath his left eye. You kept glancing up at it as the two of you daintily spun circles around the room. And he kept glancing down at you, knowing now that you had noticed.
The song ended and Bruce’s hands dropped to his sides. “I think I’ve had enough for one night,” he said with another defeated smile. “People might begin to talk.”
“I think we need to talk, Bruce.”
His eyes darted over his surroundings before they returned to you; his lower lip pinched between his teeth.
“Please,” you pressed.
“Come with me.”
You and Bruce slumped into two cosy armchairs in his study, with a roaring fire, a coffee table and two glasses of scotch between you. “Don’t think Alfred and I haven’t noticed you sneaking off all the time.”
Bruce rolled his eyes and stared at the flames. “I’m your boss, remember?”
“You’re also my friend. And you also looked like crap earlier. Who did that to you?”
“It’s nothing,” he said, shifting in his chair, letting out an audible groan.
“They obviously hurt you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“No you can’t. I think me being here says that much. C’mere,” you said, beckoning him.
“When you’re right you’re right.” Bruce might have been your boss, but he still knew better than to defy you; he slumped to his knees and shuffled over to you.
“Let me take a look at the damage.”
For the second time that night, Bruce recoiled from your touch as you gently pulled up his shirt, exposing a galaxy of bruises along his ribcage and a large, makeshift dressing on his lower abdomen. “Easy,” he said, swatting your hand away.
“How did you get that?” You peeled it away from his skin as gingerly as you could manage. Rather than concern, your voice grew cold. Serious, even. “What have you been doing?”
“I’m a little disappointed,” Bruce remarked through gritted teeth.
“How so?” you asked, running your fingertips over the slap-dash stitches that held together the vivid red gash.
“I thought this was something else.”
“Something’s eating you, though. And who did these stitches?”
“I did,” Bruce said, his jaw clenched.
“Can I redo them?”
Bruce was growing breathless by the time you finished inspecting his wound. “First aid kit’s in the top drawer of my desk,” he wheezed.
“Rubbing alcohol, too?”
“It’s all there.” Bruce wearily watched from the floor as your pale outline trailed its way across the study. His heart growing faster. “You really do look beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet and spiked with hope. He couldn’t meet your eyes when you looked up from rummaging in the drawer, so he stared down at the rug, finding interest there instead, with one hand clawing through his hair. “What was it that you wanted to ask me, by the way?”
“I really don’t like repeating myself, so cut the bullshit, Bruce.” You were so matter of fact, breezing back over to him and joining him on the floor. “I wanted to know where you go at night.”
“If I told you the truth, then you’d have me shipped off to Arkham.”
You poured some of the alcohol on to a cotton swab, keeping your eyes on Bruce. There was always something so defeated about him when the two of you were alone, that no one else ever got to see. And something always got in the way of him being honest with you. “Want to bet on that? How do you know I’m not already considering it?”
Bruce almost chuckled, but the sting from his side made him draw a sharp breath. He studied you out the corner of his eye. “Do you really… want to know?”
“It’d be nice to not have to spend my evenings with Alfred, who worries like a mother hen.”
Bruce choked out his next string of words in quick succession. “Can I tell you something first?”
“Before I cut you open?” you quipped.
“Preferably.”
Before Bruce reached the end of that word, you had already snipped through his self-administered stitches, revealing just how deep the wound actually was. Your feeble attempt at being jovial quickly switched to a reserved kind of worry.
“You’re the first person who’s ever really understood me. You never pry or say too much. You’re always there. And you have such a low tolerance for bullshit. You don’t coddle or bow down because I’m Bruce Wayne. Plus it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t in their sixties or who knew my father…”
You hummed in acknowledgement, neatly weaving the wire through Bruce’s skin. Too focused on the job at hand to really get what he meant. Until his fingertips brushed over your jawline.
“You’re my only friend in this godforsaken world.”
“Besides Alfred,” the pair of you said in unison.
Biting back a fit of laughter, you stroked his cheek and he keened, like an animal craving affection. “What are you trying to say, Bruce?”
Every fibre of Bruce’s being tensed with renewed panic and a tinge of awkwardness. His wide eyes searched for something, anything, to focus on, as long as it wasn’t you. “I’m…I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m–“
With a mental fuck it, you threw caution to the wind. You couldn’t stand hearing him bumble on like this. Closing the gap, your lips crashed on to his. He tasted like scotch and cigars, and this much of him was never going to be enough for you. Just when your hands tangled through his hair, Bruce pulled away.
“I’m the Batman.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Bruce nodded.
“I would’ve settled for ‘I’m in love with you’ you know.”
He sighed, sitting back so casually now that the difficult part was over. “That, too.”
“You can’t lie to me anymore, you know that, don’t you?”
He nodded again.
“So,” you said, glancing around the study, “which bookcase is actually a revolving door?”
“Huh?” Bruce asked, pulling down his shirt.
“Secret lair… a bat cave, if you will.”
“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. Then he pointed towards the bookcase behind you. “It’s that one. Pull out Ulysses and it’ll… spin right round. Be careful not to let the bats out, though. They’re kind of like my pets.”
“Fuck you, Bruce.”
“I can show you if you want?” he said, hopefully, as he scrambled to his feet.
“I’ll settle for another kiss. And you getting some rest.”
“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“What, the bat part or the other part?”
Bruce chuckled and planted a small, soft kiss to your forehead. “Both.”
“I had my suspicions. One thing’s for sure though…”
“What?”
“You might need a few pointers with your eyeliner.”
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Wendigo
Chapter. 23
Christmasland October 29 th:
Charlie said goodbye to his children assuring them that he would come back with food, as he always did. With Millie he said goodbye apart:
- Dad, be careful please ...
- I will, my girl. You stay tuned. I'll try to get that bastard to end up in Christmasland so you can play with him and have fresh meat.
-I don't want anything to happen to you ... Millie said half sobbing and hanging on to his neck. I had a really bad time when you were away so many years.
Charlie hugged her, kissed her forehead and said:
-Don't worry, sugar plum. It will not happen again. I promise you.
Millie held him for a while, kissed him, and added:
- Dad, try to get Vic McQueen out alive too. I don't want Wayne to lose his mom.
Charlie nodded and said:
-I'll try.
MIllie stared until the Wraith's taillights faded.
30th of October
Lou, Vic, and Wayne dropped Hooper off in a kennel and caught the plane to Boston. They stayed at the Hilton and Vic took Wayne to Haverhill and left him with Linda.
- Be good, Wayne- Vic said.
-Of course, Mom.
Without his grandmother knowing about it, he said:
- Be careful with that guy. I don't want to lose you.
- Wayne ... how did you find out about...?
- I heard you and Papa talking.
Vic hugged her son and whispered:
- Easy, Maggie said I could beat him.
- As long as Mr. Manx helps you ...
- Wayne, Mr. Manx and I have made a deal to kill that guy ...
Wayne nodded but was uneasy. Vic went to collect her Triumph from the storage room he had rented and left it in the hotel parking lot where the party was being held.
When she went up to the room, Lou was waiting for her with the costumes he had rented for the party.
- Well, this is what I found. It is seen that people have devastated with this type of clothing.
The two of them tried on the suits. Vic was wearing a short reddish dress and wearing gloves as a complement and Lou in a light colored striped suit.
They took pictures of themselves and sent to Wayne. He said:
- Mom will be the prettiest at the dance. Everyone will want to dance with her….
- Well, they have it raw, son. Mama does not know how to dance much to say, said Vic
- Dad, you look more like Michael Clarke's Kingpin.
- Thank you, son ... although I don't know how to take that comment...
Vic chuckled.
October 31. Halloween.
Vic and Lou took the opportunity to walk and tour Boston and in the middle of the afternoon they called Wayne and asked him what he would be dressing up as. He told them that he would disguise himself as Daredevil.
-This is my boy. Although you could have dressed up as Batman- Lou said.
-I do not like it. Also when I can I want to change my name and leave just Wayne.
- Wow, you just gave your father a dislike- Vic said laughing
- Will you let me do that, mom?
- Sure you do, honey.
The two of them talked some more and said goodbye to Wayne. Vic just hoped it wasn't a final goodbye.
For its part, the Wendigo was watching Linda and Wayne's house. Around 18:00 in the afternoon, he got out of his truck and went Linda’s house. He rang the bell and Linda opened it confidently thinking that they would be kids collecting candy but she ran into James. He pushed her inside her and said pointing a sawed-off shotgun at them:
-Still you two.
James tied them to the chairs and prepared the bombs.
- Who are you and what do you want from us? - Linda said
- Your daughter ... James said absentmindedly as he finished assembling the explosives that he wanted to put in the house- If she does what I want you won't be hurt.
Linda did not miss the bulge in James's pants and she prayed that the police would capture that maniac. James gagged them, took a picture of them, and said:
- Goodbye, Mrs. McQueen.
And he left to get to the party on time.
Shortly after mid-afternoon, Vic's room phone rang out. The receptionist said:
-You have a call from a relative of yours, will I pass it on?
-Yes.
Vic and Lou glued to the phone. A familiar and soft voice said:
- Vic?
- Charlie… For a moment I thought you were the Wendigo. Listen, you come to picks us up at the hotel at eight and wait for us at reception. Agree?
-Of course
- And when you take us to the other hotel, go straight to the parking lot of the other hotel so the police don't see you.
At 7:30 PM, Charlie was waiting patiently for Vic and Lou sitting in a reception chair, while the female receptionists kept their eyes on him. Some tried to get closer but Charlie made it clear and politely that he was not interested in them.
At five to eight Lou came downstairs and looked around for Charlie. Charlie saw it and walked over
- Good evening, Mr. Carmody. ¿And Vic?
- Putting the finishing touches on ... Well, do you think I look like a man from the 30s?
Charlie looked at Lou with barely concealed contempt and said:
- Better not give my opinion.
Charlie hated that man, who had taken away what he longed for most in this world. And the worst part is that he had to admit that Carmody loved Vic with all of his heart and she reciprocated, until Carmody died, Charlie knew he had no chance with Vic.
After five minutes she came down Vic. She was so beautiful and different that Lou and Charlie were amazed and more than one man in the room turned to see her.
-Oh Lord. Who are you and what have you done with Vic Mcqueen? - Charlie said humorously, taking her hand and kissing it.
- Look, you're old-fashioned, Charlie ... - Vic said, half jaded, withdrawing her hand. - Let's go to that fucking party now and get it over with. These damn heels are killing me ...
Charlie snorted, put on his chauffeur's cap and said:
- Oh, Vic, that vocabulary ... You will never be a lady ... Anyway, let's go
The three of them went outside to the Wraith. Charlie opened the back door for them and said:
- Come on, get up.
- Nothing strange will happen to me if I go up behind, right? Lou said suspiciously.
- Don't be afraid, Mr. Carmody. The Wrath only transforms children and that takes several hours, even days.
The three of them got in the car and went to the party.
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To Marry a Vigilante: Part 13
MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next
To Marry a Vigilante: Part 13
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Marinette wasn’t sure what to expect from school after her reveal. Their plan was to make it public that she was ‘dating’ Damian Wayne, but not her identity as the MDC. That plan failed when she panicked and tweeted about it. By now, pretty much everyone knew about it. Especially after Jagged Stone went forward and confirmed it. She loved the rockstar, but he was like a wild six-years-old when left without supervision. It was impossible to reverse it.
The other problem that was making her very anxious was the new Hawkmoth. Her class was already called the Akuma Class not without reason. Now, they would be probably split into different groups, which could serve to make her suffer more. Not to mention how much Lila would be making her life a nightmare now.
She dressed in the standard Gotham Academy uniform and waited for Chloé to finally arrive. The blonde’s arrival was foreshadowed by the sound of a loud rant.
“...they can’t expect me to wear these rags!? The purple will totally clash with my lipstick! And the black and white? What is it, the Seventeenth century?” She was already dressed, but clearly unamused by what she was forced to wear.
“Hi, Chlo.” She greeted her best human friend.
“Mari-bear! How can you stand by this fashion disaster?!”
“I don’t mind. We must wear it only at school.”
“Ugh! I need to pack spare clothes then!”
“Or you could… you know, stay in the uniform?” The bluenette smiled. “I mean from what Damian told me, it’s pretty common to see groups of students still dressed in their uniforms after school.”
“These rags?!” Chloé shouted, slightly agitated
“I’ll make you an MDC original uniform once I get my hands on specifications. Deal?” Mari giggled at her friend’s antics. She was supposed to be the one criticizing fashion here.
“Fine. But it’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! After classes, you and I are going shopping for some better make-up for me and actual make-up for you.”
“Sure! We can also visit the Botanic Gardens again. Just the two of us?” The girl suggested.
“Perfect. Won’t Lover-boy have a problem?”
“Nah. Damian won’t mind. We’re not bound by the hip, you know?”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Chloé smiled.
“You…!” Marinette giggled. “I heard you’ve been spending whole days in the gym with my cousin. What’s that about? I thought you would be more interested in pestering Tim about detective stuff.”
“I decided to start exercising. Cass is a great trainer for your information,” she huffed, but the smile on her face let Mari know it was just Chloé being Chloé. “Besides, have you seen your mother? She is nearing fifty and looks drop-dead gorgeous. My mother would kill for that body at her age.”
“Suuuree.” The bluenette giggled. “Let’s go. Alfred will drop us at school.”
In the entrance hall, they were met by Damian, who wore his own uniform. Sabine, Tom, and Bruce were there to see them out. After the standard round of goodbyes that awaited children when they were supposed to start a new school (Sabine filling the mother role for Chloé), Bruce looked critically at Damian.
“You know that you can only bring the sword on Tuesdays and Thursdays when you actually have practice?”
“Tt. I’ll need it today.”
“Damian…” He glared at the boy, only to be met by an equally fierce gaze.
“Fine. But I’m keeping the dusters.” He bargained. “That’s not negotiable.”
“You know the rules.”
“Tt. With a madman after my wife, I reserve my right to having means of self-defense.”
“Fine. But only if Akuma shows up and the two of you can’t transform. I hope I don’t need to remind you that Gotham is not Paris? People are much more observant here.” He warned them.
“Don’t worry Mr. Wayne.” Chloé dismissed him. “I’ll make sure those two are behaving.”
“I already feel better.” He deadpanned.
“Hush! They are smart kids and can deal with their problems. Right, sweetie?”
“I… I hope?” Marinette was not exactly convinced but tried to smile.
“You’ll do great.” Her father reassured her.
“Okay. Let’s go.” She put on her sunglasses. The thin black frame surrounded the twin large tinted glasses that hid a large part of her face. Nobody would know it was Kaalki in disguise. She would need the glasses to not be bothered by the press. At least she hoped they would help.
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They arrived with half an hour safety cushion, which made them one of the first on-site. Damian led them to the Principal’s office first to get their schedules. Mr. Hammer was already waiting for them. He wore formal clothes with a green vest over a white shirt, yellow-brown trousers, and to finish it he had a dark-green cape with a white collar made of fur.
“Ah. Mr. Wayne with his girlfriend,” He spoke the word with utter loathing, which was pretty strange. Marinette never met him before. “I seem to remember to have expelled you last semester”
“Tt. You also expelled me the previous one. Four times. And the semester before. Two times.” He didn’t bother to hide the grin. “Except the paperwork never left your office.” He pointed at the large stack of papers on one of the shelves, with a golden plaquette reading ‘Damian Wayne’.
“Hm… Indeed.”
Damian stopped himself from interrupting him to educate him on how to talk with and about Marinette.
“Um… Professor Hammer?” speaking of the angel. “Thank you for accepting my class for the exchange program.”
“Yes. Your school was kind enough to send the records of all the students. Yours including.”
“Great. Is there anything…”
“I didn’t finish.” He snapped at her. “You have a very interesting file, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He dropped a rather thick folder on his desk. “Class president for three years, engaging in various charities, supporting drama club, brilliant gymnast and martial artist.... thief, bully, conflict child.” He added in an angry tone. “I don’t know about France, but here we often call such girls H.B.I.C., which is an acronym for…”
“Tt. I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to refer to my Angel as such. She is the victim of theft, bullying, and ostracization by her class. If you read the files, you know that each person in that class holds significant sway, and the headmaster of that school is easily swayed. I’ve spent a semester at Françoise Dupont and that establishment is in simple words… lacking.” Damian almost spat the last word. He wanted to tell the headmaster more, but Hammer was ignoring him.
“In Gotham Academy, we pride ourselves as a prestigious institute that helps students develop their full potential. I don’t care how it worked in your previous school, but I expect you to behave. If you start conflicts with the students, I will be forced to expel you, as per the exchange program regulations that your parents signed. And this time, the papers will leave my office.” He glared at Damian, who in response grinned. “The school is surrounded by a high wall and a river, so you don’t have to worry about paparazzi. If such is caught on the premise, he will be dealt with harshly.”
“What about students taking photos?”
“I’m sure you can deal with them.” It was Hammer’s turn to grin.
“But… But…! That’s unfair! And enabling!”
“Life is not fair. If it was, I would be living in a castle somewhere in the stormy peaks of Scotland. Instead, I’m here.” He handed both of them their schedules and ushered them out. Chloé was waiting outside.
“So? How did it go?”
“He doesn’t particularly seem to like me. It might’ve been because I’m dating a boy he expelled six times last year.” She glared at his husband.
“Tt. He just dislikes me because in the first year I accidentally detonated the head of his statue. And then the next year I detonated the replacement.” He shrugged.
“How do you even accidentally detonate the statue’s head?” Chloé asked.
“Chemistry homework?” Damian suggested
“Archery practice?” Marinette supplied.
“Science class gone wrong?” He continued
“Secret weapon cache activating by itself?” She added.
“All of the above.” Damian finished.
“Okay. Honey, are you sure you want him? We can still return him to the store and find one that is less rabid?” The blonde joked.
“Tt. Over my dead body.” He growled and grasped Marinette’s hand.
“Calm down, Damiboo,” she grinned at the name, “nobody will be separating you two. But for now, we need to go to the chapel for the welcome party.”
“Tt. Call me that again and I’ll…” He started, but then Marinette’s glare shut him up.
The girls walked away and Damian almost rethought his stance when the blonde dared to whisper “Whipped” when she was passing him. Marinette didn’t notice, already too focused on describing the meeting with the headmaster.
-----
“...furthermore, the North Hall remains off-limit to all students. You will have your rooms assigned before the lunch break.” Hammerhead finally finished his long and boring speech. The girls were lucky enough to have a peaceful if uninteresting welcome ceremony. Sabine sat next to them, which served as a very strong deterrent from any idiots trying something stupid, like taunting her or bullying. Caline was sweating each time she looked at the other chaperone. Sabine didn’t bother with niceties and could (and would) totally destroy her at moment’s notice.
“Hi. I’m Erica Layton. I’m the school president and it’s my pleasure to welcome you to our great school!” A cheerful blonde walked onto the stage.
She wore a standard GA uniform, but Marinette recognized it as tailor-made, with high-quality materials. Marinette immediately took to dislike her. She had an aura similar to Lila. Falsehood and malevolence. Her smile was precarious and she swept the students with her gaze. She zeroed on Marinette for a second too long and the bluenette could feel the headache coming. She tried to remember what Damian told her about the school president, but the position was supposed to be held by a girl named Boyle.
“I hope you’ll fondly remember your time at our school. There are many clubs that you can join. If there is one that you wish to start, you’ll need a group of at least five students and signed permission from one of the teachers. You can find more information on our website. Each of you will be assigned a dorm according to the survey you filled…”
“Excuse me!” Kim, who just received a whisper from Lila, stood up. “From what we were told, we were supposed to stay with host families. What gives?”
“Oh! I’m sorry nobody informed you before. Sadly, we didn’t get enough volunteers, so the plans had to change.”
“But… but… Marinette is staying with the Waynes!” Alya protested before sending the girl in question a hateful gaze. Sabine glared back and the bespectacled girl shivered and quickly turned back to the stage.
The woman stood up and addressed the class herself. “Marinette is staying with me and I’m staying with my niece and her guardian. I hope that will clear any and all confusion.” Her glare told them that the conversation was over.
“Yes…” Erica awkwardly started again. “Let’s continue.”
Marinette made sure to note everything the school president spoke about. She was certain her class had more important gossip to focus on and later would have no idea about anything. She would just have Chloé send them the picture later.
After the event was over, Marinette and Chloé stayed back to photo the notes. Sabine made sure that all other Parisians left them alone, urging them to run to classes. The two left maybe two minutes later, walking calmly to their new classes. The girls would have all the same classes and there was hope that none of the other students from Françoise Dupont would pick the same.
When walking through the corridor, Chloé finally brought up Alya’s reaction to her mother. The two laughed at how scared she was of Sabine.
Out of the blue, a hand pulled Marinette to the side and the doors closed behind them in complete silence. She managed to give a weak squeak before that, but her best friend didn’t notice. It would be a moment before Chloé realized her best friend disappeared. By then, the doors had been already locked and she would not differentiate them from other locked doors in the corridor.
“So… You’re supposed to be the famed girlfriend of Damian Wayne?” Marinette heard once her head finally stopped spinning. She was sitting on a chair with ropes tying her down. Five girls stood there, surrounding her like vultures.
“Huh? Yeah. Damian and I…”
“I didn’t give you permission to speak.” The middle one, blonde stopped her. Marinette recognized her. It was Erica!
“Yeah! You think you can just swoop here and try to steal Erica’s man?” One of the companions asked indignantly.
“Damian was not dating anyone when he came to Paris.” The french girl confidently defended her right.
“Of course he wasn’t. He is the Ice Prince of Gotham Academy.” Erica dismissed her. “But I had the first claim to him.”
“I don’t exactly follow…” Marinette, for all her shrewd tactical mind and lessons from Damian, was still mostly clueless of how rich, bratty teenagers worked. Chloé was supposed to be a unique case, not a rule.
“Sorry. We started on the wrong foot.” The lead blonde changed her strategy. “Erica Layton.” She extended her hand. Marinette shrugged, took a deep breath, and tightened her muscles. The rope they used to tie her snapped and she stood up to take her hand. Other girls stared at her with a weird expression.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Her handshake might’ve been a bit too strong, she did it on purpose.
“Listen, Dupain-Cheng. There is a social hierarchy in this school. I just so happened to be on top. We can be friends and peacefully resolve our differences...”
“I’m sure we can be at least neutral to…”
“I didn’t finish.” Erica seethed. “Of course, friends don’t steal other friends’ men. So, if you’ll break up with Damian, I can get you to the top of the food chain. You will be safe from that Lila girl and untouchable by anyone. It would be a shame if something happened to your online store after all. Or if your social media suddenly ended under attack by bad reviews.”
Marinette stopped smiling halfway through that speech. By the end, she was openly scowling. She broke the handshake and glared at the blonde on the opposite side. Her mother taught her the glare. It was the ‘you’re in over your head’ glare.
Only one of the girls had the decency to shiver. Others seemed too stupid and too convinced of their own superiority to take Marinette seriously.
“Let’s make it clear.” The girl started with a very cold voice. “You want me to break up with Damian, just so you can try, and fail, to get him for yourself? And if I don’t comply, you threaten my online shop and my social media? All for protection from Rossi and her lapdogs?” She allowed herself a laugh. “That’s a good one.”
“You little bitch!” Erica shouted. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am at the top of the food chain here. I rule this school. I’m the Gotham Academy’s golden princess!”
“And I’m above the food chain.” She quoted Damian. It took all her willpower, acting skills, courage, and boiled-down anger to continue. “You might be the princess, but I’m the queen here. And you have nothing that you can take from me.”
“Everyone has some dirty secrets. When I’m done with you, you’ll be too afraid to even show up at school!” Erica shouted. Marinette’s cool gaze swept over the room.
The bluenette didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she walked over to the locked doors and grabbed the doorknob. At first, it was locked and didn’t want to budge, but with a stronger twist the old mechanism gave over, and the doors opened.
Outside, Chloé was already on the phone with someone.
“...Nevermind. I found her.” She hung up and turned to her best friend. “Maribear! Where have you been?”
“I just met the Rossi of this school. She thought she could offer me friendship in exchange for Damian. Like that would ever work.” She gave a cold giggle. When they turned the corner Chloé found the nearest bathroom and dragged Marinette there. Once they were safe from any prying eyes, shel broke into sobs in the blonde’s arms.
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Masterlist // Next
#miraculous#Damian Wayne#miraculous ladybug#miraculous lb#Damian al Ghul#damienette#maribat#marinette dupain cheng#BAMF Marinette#marinette x damian#maridami#batman#Miraculous!Sabine#BatFam#maribat au#matibat#Assassin!Sabine#miraculous sabine#BAMF Sabine#redeemed!chloe#MLB#mlb x dc#League of Assassins#arranged marriage AU
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Hi! Can i just say that i absolutely love your writing and your vibe as a whole? 🥺💞 If i may, I’d like to request a fic where the reader is a very well known socialite, but she gets very bored of her life and wants something different. She suddenly meets J in some sort of situation and becomes infatuated with him & his lifestyle. You must be busy with other requests & your personal life, so if anything, i just want you to know that i love your writing! 💘
Sweet anon!!! AKADJSBAJSND 😭💖 I’m SO sorry this has taken me so long to get to and I hope you see it!! This was a really fun one and I had a great time writing it so I really hope you like it 💕
Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, first time meeting Joker
Word count: 1,954
Warnings: tension, light violence
Something Different
Another boring party with boring people in a boring place. How many more of these must you endure?
Ah the fabulous life of the daughter of Dr. Thomas Elliot, famous Gotham City surgeon and longtime family friend of the Wayne family. Being born to one of Gotham’s founding families, she lives a life of luxury. Chauffeurs, butlers, ritzy charity events, fashion shows, brand promos, intense boredom. You were certainly grateful for the fact that finances were never something you had to worry about, but at the same time, money imprisoned you. It controlled your every move like a puppet master. Stand like this, wear that, speak this way, don’t forget to smile. And don’t even think about having your own dreams. You had access to all of the means in the world to do whatever you want, right? Wrong. If it’ll tarnish the family reputation on any way, its not gonna happen. Ever. And you’d be surprised at what they consider “tarnishing.” Learning to drive, going to school, coloring your hair, going on dates, having a job, getting ice cream with friends. What friends? You never got to experience these things. Things that were normal. Now you were in your late twenties and the life of the average young adult was completely foreign to you. Its been ten years now. Since you started to hate this life.
You were attending yet another fundraiser at Bruce’s place. What was it for this time? Friends of the Gotham Railway? Society for the Performing Arts? Gotham Heights Country Club’s new golf course? District Attorney Harvey Dent. Didn’t he just get elected? Okay then. It really doesn’t matter anyway. They’re all the same. Gourmet hors d’oeuvres, expensive champagne, some phony inspirational speech, bland conversation, smile through how much your feet hurt in these heels, send a check tomorrow. The predictability you lived your life by was astonishing. When were you finally going to get to do something different?
You lifted another glass of champagne from the tray drifting past you and took a heavy sip. Can’t get to drunk though, what would the media say? You were tempted to do it on purpose, just to mix things up for once. The sound of rough whirring broke you out of your melancholic trance and you turned to see a helicopter landing on the roof top balcony outside. The man himself arriving ever so fashionably late. Linking arms with three women you could only assume to be models, how classy. And here comes the motivational speech. I believe in Harvey Dent, a safer Gotham, optimism, face of our bright future, blah blah blah. Now everybody claps. Just wonderful. Back to our mindless mingling.
The evening continued on like they all do. This time you were stuck trying not to stare at the speck of food stuck in Mr. Kane’s teeth while he droned on about the new hotel, they planned to open it across from the opera house. Would it be uncouth to express to him how little you care about any of that? When you were seconds away from excusing yourself for a bogus trip to the ladies’ room, a loud boom rang out from the entryway. You spun around and your body froze at the sound of his voice.
“Goood evening, ladies and gentle-men.”
It felt like ice was running through your veins when you saw him. Purple suit, shotgun over his shoulder, unkempt green hair, painted face. His face. Covered in white with black swallowing his eyes, bright red over his mouth and crawling up his cheeks in a wicked grin. On the news they called him The Joker.
“We are… tonight’s entertainment! I only have one question… Where. Is. Har-vey Dent?”
He was so tall, walking with a slight slouch but had an air of confidence like you’d never seen. Like he knew just how much attention his presence attracted. No, attention it demanded. Like he knew you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He made it look effortless. Almost like he was bored by it. He tossed food into his mouth, chewing noisily while he spoke. Then he stopped and turned to walk toward the crowd, pointing his shotgun toward the people in front of him before moving on down the line. Your feet grew cold when you realized he was heading in your direction. He tossed champagne out of a glass before mockingly tossing his head back to let the last drop hit his tongue. You couldn’t move a muscle as he leaned in and muttered questions at the people standing nearby. He kept coming. Your heart pounded, climbing into your throat as he got closer.
Then you could see it. It was scars. The red smile stretching across his face, it was painted over scars. Someone had cut through the corners of his mouth on both sides, leaving behind a twisted, permanent, grin. It made your stomach drop. He said something to Mr. Kane, but you couldn’t hear it, only the blood rushing in your ears. He got so close. You swore you could feel the heat from his body, smell something sharp like acetone.
“You remind me of my father.”
Then he suddenly grabbed Mr. Kane by his collar and growled, “I hated my father.”
“Ok, stop.”
Mr. Kane was shoved into you while Joker turned to face the voice coming from behind him. Rachel Dawes, Bruce’s friend for as long as you could remember.
“Well, hello, beautiful. You must be Harvey’s squeeze-ah. Hm?... and you are beautiful.”
He circled her like a wild dog stalking prey, practically licking his chops. Relishing the feeling of cornering his victim. Waving a knife blade at her.
“You look nervous. Is it the scars?... Wanna know how I got ‘em?”
Then he reached forward and gripped her by the back of her neck and her face. You felt your cheeks abruptly grow warmer. He pulled her closer to him, holding her there, not letting her look away. A thought suddenly cut through you mind like the knife in his hand. You wondered if the leather of his gloves felt warm or cool on her skin. Your heart fluttered and a shiver ran down your back. Why were you thinking about that? He intruded without warning and started threatening people, but here you were wanting to know what it was like to be that close to him. You found yourself wishing you were her, just to know what it was like, him touching you.
You hung on to his every word. He had a wife once, who told him he worried to much, that he should smile more, she gambled, got in deep with the sharks. They carved her face, had no money for surgery, she couldn’t take it, he just wanted to see her smile again, he didn’t care about the scars, he stuck a razor in his mouth and did that to himself. He… he did that to himself?
“And you know what? She can’t stand the sight of me! She leaves. Now I see the funny side... Now I’m always smiling.”
You blinked and the next thing you knew, punches were being thrown and men in clown masks were falling to the floor. Batman. The masked vigilante everyone was talking about. He seemed to appear out of nowhere, coming out of the shadows to beat up the bad guys. Reality struck you in that moment. This was real. This was happening. The word surreal doesn’t quite cover it. You wanted something different. Well, this was different. Instead of fear you started to feel something else rising up from inside of you, tingling up your back. Excitement.
A punch from a clown masked man landed square on Batman’s jaw, sending him to his knee and giving Joker the opportunity to start kicking him in the stomach. All you could do was watch, spellbound by the violence occurring before your eyes, wide with anticipation. It almost happened too fast for you to see. He really had nothing holding him back. He couldn’t care less about what people thought of him. Showing up in face paint and a purple suit with a posse of men disguised as scary clowns, commanding even more attention than Bruce. He basked in it, not caring one bit what they thought, only that he left an impression. He did. Especially on you.
You blinked again and he had Rachel. He stood behind her, his arm wrapped around her chest to keep her from running, his other hand waving a handgun in the air. He wasn’t going to drop the gun, not unless Batman took his mask off, show us all who he really was. Then the window behind him shattered with a shot from the gun and he dangled Rachel by her arm out into the open air. Your chest felt tight, as helpless as everyone else watching and unable to do anything about it. But you still couldn’t shake the thrill you felt buzzing in your arms and legs, fogging your mind.
“Let her go,” Batman’s hoarse voice demanded.
Joker squinted his eyes and grinned with ironic amusement as he answered, “Very poor choice of words.”
He let go. His laugh reached down to your bones and held on, pulling you toward him while Batman dove out the window after Rachel. You didn’t know what you were doing but you couldn’t stop yourself. Your feet kept carrying you closer. People all around you started rushing for the exit, running from the taunting men in clown masks like the crowd at a Halloween fun house. Except this was real.
You kept your eyes forward, getting within a few feet of him when he turned and saw you. A chill washed over you, both icy cold and burning hot at the same time when his eyes traveled up and down your body where you stopped in your tracks. Your skin felt like it was on fire.
“Hello, there,” he purred.
You opened your mouth to speak but no sound came out. You just stared at him. Then he started to saunter toward you, slowly closing the gap that separated you, and you almost couldn’t breathe.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a sideways grin. “Aren’t you a pretty little flower, hm?”
Your heart fluttered and your lungs pulled in a sudden gasp of air, that sharp smell filling up your senses. He was right in front of you now. He was right in front of you and you could undeniably feel the heat radiating off of him. Your heart pumped faster, the adrenaline in your veins saturating every tissue. That tingling in your spine came rushing back as his tongue flashed out of his mouth to run along his lip.
“Can I, uh, help you with something, little flower?”
The last sounds of panicked voices faded, and it was completely silent. You were alone. With him. Fear tried to wrestle for a place in the front of your mind, to pull you away, to make you run back toward the door, but the allure you felt was too pervading. You remained still, trying to steady your breath while the gaze from his black-rimmed eyes seemed to swallow you up. Sirens started to echo in the distance.
Then your voice found its way out of your mouth, “I… I just wanted to… um, to get closer.”
His eyebrows shot up and his grin widened as a low hum rumbled in his chest. Your brittle nerves nearly shattered when he lifted his hand and gently took hold of your chin, lifting it and stepping forward to press his chest against yours. “Mmm, this close enough?”
His gloves, they felt cool on your skin.
Taglist!
@youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns
#ledger joker fic#ledger joker x reader#joker x you#Heath Ledger Joker#the dark knight#tdk joker#joker fanfiction#one shot#anon request
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Bail Out: 05
(Bruce Wayne x Reader)
A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series
Chapter 05: “No Fun”
Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.
Word Count: 8500+
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Swearing and Slight Violence
Author’s Note: So glad I could finish this on time. Now I’m impatiently working on the next part. When you read it, you will know why. Thanks again for the wonderful response. Enjoy!
Chapter LIST
The rapid sound of gunfire, infused with blood curdling screams, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel. The scene you witnessed, was never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.
Just when it seemed trouble had finally set you free.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(A Few Days Earlier)
Allison Hughs was your quintessential fun-loving, living in the moment party girl with complete control over the pace of her existence. Apart from all that, she was also a loyal friend, blindly following you to the ends of the earth in ranting.
“SHE DID WHAT?”
Her inquiry was loud and dramatic, to which you nodded.
“Yep” you replied, “She straight up went there…”
Safe to say, the ‘She’ that was being mentioned here was none other than Clara Bennett, the Consultant who slithered her way into Wayne Enterprises, solely to make exaggerated inspections on HR Operations, and to make your cooperate life a living hell, drenched with self-doubt and insecurity. It certainly traveled up a notch when she proactively invited you to take part in a Basic HR Crash Course, that was mainly designed to New Recruits. Simply because she assumed that you would find the Course ‘helpful’ to your own line of work. The fact she indirectly implied a trace of incompetence in you caused so much embarrassment.
“The hell is that bitch’s problem though?”
Allison kept inquiring, as she wiped off the milk from her lips, “Seriously…” she muttered, standing by the opened refrigerator in her pajamas.
“Yeah” you continued to nod, as you stuffed a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, “..and Lillian…being my senior since day 1, didn’t even treat me this way” you added, with a full mouth.
Already dressed for work, little did you expect to see Allison awake and engaged while you had your breakfast, “I look like a fucking joke…”you muttered, after finally gulping the food down.
“Hey!”
Allison cried, pointing her index finger at you, “Don’t you dare give up” she said with seriousness, standing before you, “You need to stand your ground and carry on with dignity…” she continued, her tone quite similar to a heroic speech, “Make Lillian proud she left you in charge…” she added, putting both hands on the table. Leaning forward, she took a closer look, “This will be good for you…” finally as her voice grew soft, she flashed a soft smile. You could not help but look at her affectionately, as you exhaled deeply.
“Talking to you makes me feel so much better…” you admitted. Pleased, Allison stood up straight.
“That’s why I’m your hype man, Sweetie!” she said, turning towards the window, “Watch out Gotham! The Bruiser is here to SLAY-”
“HEYYY!!-” your shushes exited along with your embarrassment. Your friend covered her mouth quickly.
“Sorry, Sweetie….” Allison whispered, taking the hands away, “But it just sounds so badass…” as her tone grew normal once more. You shot her a deranged look.
“Do I look like someone who deserves the name?” you inquired.
“Well…” she said, folding her arms, “…the fact you punched that guy is a good enough reason…”
Shaking one’s head with a chuckle, you watched her head to the bedroom with a maniacal laughter. The sudden vibration of the table forced you to look down at your phone. The chuckling stopped, permitting your pulse to quicken with liberty. Rubbing your neck nervously, you proceeded to read the text from the only sender who was capable to send you through an emotional wild ride: Bruce Wayne.
Sorry, long night. Good Morning!
Pausing for a few seconds, you exhaled loudly as began to type:
No worries. Hope your day goes well, Mr. Wayne.
Being an appropriate response, you sent without hesitation. Long night?, could it possibly truly mean a hectic night of crime fighting and city saving in disguise? A strong urge suddenly arose to pull up the search browser on your phone, and type in the words: Batman. And what appeared first in the results certainly made your eyebrows rise with curiousity.
“Ali….” You yelled loud enough for her to hear, “You’ve heard of a website called… ‘Where’s the Bat’?
“EH?”
Her response was equally loud and echoing, “Oh yeah…” she added, whilst you opened the web page, “…Matty was talking about it sometime back…” she continued, “Some nerdy site about The Batman…”
“Damn!”
The word abruptly left your lips as your eyes widened. For you were treated to such a sight, “Ali…get this…” you said, proceeding to read the description of the page, “Welcome to ‘Where’s the Bat?’ Your Online Resource for all things Batman: Gotham’s Caped Crusader…” you squealed excitedly, “Ha! It’s a freakin’ fan site! Oh! Oh!” you exclaimed as you continued to read out loud:
“… reliable sources from our very own admins and enthusiasts all over Gotham City…” with a whistle, you nodded, “These folks are not kidding around, huh?” you muttered, letting your finger slowly scroll down, “And they have posts on almost every appearance he made in the city…” you said out loud, yet it seemed that Allison was never interested.
The Website backdrop was in black, but encompassing a very beautiful design concept. The immaculate detail was beyond believable. Detailed posts on possible weapons owned, vehicles, fighting styles and costume, Photos ranging from Low Quality to High, even blurry videos by camera phones, it was certainly a network of information. Your eyes widened when you saw the recent post title:
Batman and The Bruiser?
“What the-?”
Muttering to yourself, you clicked on the article.
“…also known as The Bruiser (Click Here for the Viral Clip) was spotted nearby when a group of muggers had reportedly attacked her. According to the anonymous source, Batman had arrived right on time. A clip of the incident may not be available, yet we did manage to find a small clip as he escaped the scene. And according to Gotham PD, the Caped Crusader had appeared once again to The Bruiser’s aid the night after. As much as we feel sorry for the bad luck The Bruiser attracts, we could only be nothing but envious of her opportunity to meet the Dark Knight twice. And some of us could not help but wonder: Could romance possibly be in bloom between the two?”
“What?”
Nervous chuckles were all you let out as you whispered, “Hah! In your dreams, fanboys…” you uttered, closing the browser, “Batman would never go for a woman like me” you said, almost dropping the phone by its sudden vibration. For a reply was received.
You too. Stay out of trouble :)
“And you stay out of my head” you said to yourself, putting the phone back on the table. Covering your face, you could only groan with frustration. Ever since that evening at the hospital a mere week before, casual texts from Bruce Wayne began to appear on your phone, starting off on the very next day:
Couldn’t thank you for running that errand for Fox.
The errand, meaning the black box that Mr.Fox entrusted you with. A small yet long box which was quite light. The very box that granted you access to his penthouse and to the friendship with Alfred Pennyworth.
Just doing my job, Mr.Wayne.
You remember replying that day at office. It was not exactly necessary for him to thank you this way, yet his action was commendable. He did not hesitate to quickly respond:
Much appreciated.
Just when you thought it was the end, he greeted once again two days later. During an important meeting, for example:
Hi there! Is Ms.Foster enjoying the gift?
Once the meeting wrapped up, you made sure to respond :
Very much, from what I know. You’re making motherhood very easy for her.
You would be lying if you did not look forward to write him back. The manner your fingers tingled was quite evident.
That’s a relief.
Clearly with his corresponding reply, he displayed quite an interest in conversing with you, by finding meager excuses to obtain your response. Yet, a part of you wondered what his actual intentions were. Be professional, a phrase that lingered in your head always. A warning, more like. As much as the desire to carry on the message thread was strong within, you did not reply back.
Two days passed, and surprisingly you were dying with curiousity. Could it be that his intention to communicate had finally gone? Or could it be that you were finally missing him? Forming a clever excuse to obtain his signature, you liaised with Jessica, only to find out Bruce Wayne was currently on a business trip in Singapore.
Intoxicated with impulsiveness, your thumbs grew stubborn as they formed a message on your phone:
Heard you’re in Singapore. How is it?
“Shit! Roaming Charges!”
You sighed, your palm slapped over your forehead. Putting the phone away to enjoy the view of the bus ride, you sincerely hoped he would never notice. But to your surprise, the phone vibrated instantly:
Loving the Food here.
Despite roaming charges, he was kind enough to reply. And that touched you very deeply. Then again, money was never an issue for a man of his stature. him. However, you were not Bruce Wayne. Still, a few extra dollars seemed nothing compared to the inner secretive joy you indulged in as you replied:
Not surprised. The Bakkwa over there is to die for.
He did not reply. He did not do so for a day and two. You grew worried, if he was really knee deep in business, or literally knee deep in trouble. But the next morning, you were finally assured of his safe arrival back to Gotham, especially when you found a gift at the door. A Gift which came in the form of a beautiful red box full of Bakkwa, the Chinese sweet dried meat, one of your favorite treats. You did not miss the handwritten note inside:
You’re right. It IS to die for. - B.Wayne
Chuckling with happiness, you were only compelled to quickly text him a grateful reply:
The Bakkawa enthusiast sends her Thanks.
To which you finally received a reply this morning as you indulged on your cereal:
Sorry, long night. Good Morning!
Groaning in frustration seemed rightfully reasonable for you. Stressing out seemed rightfully reasonable as well. Who would not, when there was a storm that brewed inside of you. A storm of emotions that contained the sticky quality. The adhesiveness that was stubborn to the core. For if you look at the situation in it’s entirety, this was not your average instance of a man and woman forming a textual habit in order to know one another. You were an acting Head, informally socializing with the owner of Wayne Enterprises. Being in HR, you could already feel the weight of unprofessionalism heat on you. That guilt which already seemed to haunt you subtly. Thus, not responding further seemed logical, yet it certainly was a hard pill for you to swallow.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“You sure you don’t want anything? Coffee or Tea?”
You asked Officer John Blake, ushering him to his seat as you sat down. He shook his head.
“I’m good, Ma’am” he said with a smile. Smiling back, you were drenched with guilt. A week earlier, the police officer had requested to meet, yet with your unexpected work load, you reluctantly had to send him back the previous time. Forcing him to wait so long for a week was something you knew you would go to hell for. But John Blake did not judge, or as it seemed from his expression.
“Didn’t know you were running a tight ship here .” He said, looking back to witness the bustle in the main hall outside.
“Well, the Head’s on Maternity leave so…I’m stuck here, hehe…” You answered nervously, “Once again I’m so sorry Officer. You said it was something urgent?”
“It’s about the two attacks…”
Blake said, capturing your attention. “Now I’m sure you’re probably wondering if those are simply coincidental or something more…”
“I honestly have been afraid to go down that rabbit hole, but yes I did wonder…” you replied. Looking sideways, he finally turned your way as his lowered his voice:
“I have reason to believe Erik Henderson may be connected to this…”
The image of the mocking man, and his bloody nose flashed before your very eyes. Given his anger, it could be a high possibility. Yet, you were in disbelief.
“What gave you the idea?” You inquired with curiousity. Blake kept his police his hat on his lap securely:
“The men who attacked you, the ones we arrested…” He said, to which you nodded in acknowledgment, “They were bailed out the very next day by-”
“-Henderson’s Legal Team?” You asked blankly, for you were still in disbelief. Blake nodded.
“I may be wrong” he said, “Bailing the people who attacked you, it could also just be a power move, maybe to scare you off…” he added, leaning forward, “So far we cannot be sure…” He continued, “But I think it’s best for you to keep an eye out-”
Your eyes suddenly darted towards the phone screen. For an email just appeared in your personal inbox with a title:
“Job Offer for General Manager”
Eyes widening, you were certainly not expecting that. Quiet for a few minutes, you found yourself staring at your own table, for you were confused beyond all measure with everything you just heard and saw.
“I’m sorry...” Blake began, shaking you from your thoughts, “ if I’m causing you any discomfort-”
“No…it’s alright” flipping the phone downward, you shook your head with a soft smile, “I just…all this was just so unexpected. Didn’t think there would be any possibility for anything like this, that’s all” you said, smiling even more, “I appreciate the information, Officer”
Truthfully, you were nothing but grateful to the man. Perhaps it was because he was the arresting officer who was in charge of that fateful night. Nevertheless, he was nothing but kind to you. Blake grinned widely.
“The Precinct still thanks The Bruiser for Common’s Coffee” He said, to which you were genuinely surprised.
“Oh! I’m glad-”
“BOSS!”
Greg’s cries forced both of you to look to the door. Distress never looked good on Greg. Giving a heavy sigh, he began:
“ I’m sorry to keep doing this but…” he said, “Clara’s gone off the rails!”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As he made his way down the Lobby through the crowds, John Blake made his careful observations, fascinated by all that he glanced upon in the Wayne Tower.
“Officer Blake!”
Stopping in his tracks, John turned upon hearing a familiar voice. He smiled.
“Mr.Wayne…” He addressed, “Didn’t expect to see you here”
Smartly dressed in a pinstriped three piece suit, Bruce Wayne stood before the much younger man with a reciprocative smile.
“Well,” he began “You can’t just play hard….so…”
Nodding in acknowledgment, Blake held on to his hat. With the silence between them growing longer, John began to speak:
“I’m actually just coming down after meeting one of your Senior Managers” He said, which caught Wayne’s attention.
“Who is…?”
When Blake provided him with the name, Bruce nodded nonchalantly.
“Is this anything to do with the Henderson case?” He asked, suddenly growing serious. Surprised by his knowledge, the officer nodded.
“Yes….” Blake added. But then again, there was nothing to be surprised of. Given Wayne was in the hotel when it all happened.
“How did she take it?”
“Surprisingly pretty well” Blake said, as he began to walk alongside Wayne ,“But she seems to have her hands full today, doesn’t look too good” he sighed, involuntarily empathizing with her. And given Wayne’s subtle yet concerned expression, Blake realized he was not alone there. Finally reaching the exit, the officer was compelled to do the unexpected:
“Since you were a witness to the incident,..” he began, making Wayne look at him, “ I think it’s probably best that you also know…”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You have always put your trust in Lillian Foster. That trust had lasted throughout your time in Wayne Enterprises without forsaking you for a mere second. Thus, you were certain she did the needful in approving the Revised Policies and Regulations before taking her leave. For you had personally witnessed it.
However, when a company email from Clara Bennett to Lucius Fox claimed HR was seemingly incapable of carrying out their operations under the current leadership, you were not surprised to find your anger making an appearance.
And the embarrassment you had to face when she even went so far as to copy you and your managers in to that said email. Professional was nowhere near this behavior. For this was simply child’s play. The panic all your department staff went through was understandable. Especially when they worked only to their very best.
“You wanted to me see me?”
Clara asked, as she entered your office. Raising your head up, you threw a cold expression her way:
“Close the door please”
Your tone was stern. Looking around, Clara furrowed her eyebrows.
“But aren’t you supposed to-”
“I’ll take my chances, Ms. Bennett” You interrupted her, lips forming a tight smile. With an uncertain nod, she closed the door shut, before taking a few steps towards you. Slowly getting up from your desk, you quickly walked over to her. It was now or never.
“We saw that little email that you sent to Mr. Fox.”
You stated, to which she did not flinch. Scoffing, your hands rested on your hips, “I know how things work: When people mess up, even after many warnings, they get complained about to the superiors…” you said in a matter-of-fact tone, “But…” you paused, as you were on a dire attempt not to explode, “how can you expect us...” Surprisingly you felt emotion trickling in, “...to take this lying down when you DIDN'T PERFORM EITHER OF THOSE ACTIONS?”
With your voice surprisingly getting louder than expected, Clara found herself folding her arms in defense:
“Look, I get it...” She said, her smile suddenly faded, “You don’t like me snooping around”
You scoffed in disbelief, “Ms.Bennett, this is not you snooping around. This is you desperately finding excuses to make US LOOK BAD” you stated loudly, “I mean…What exactly on the policies and regulations are you complaining about?” You inquired. And to your surprise, Clara grew quiet before she finally answered:
“I just...” she paused, as if she was seeking excuses, “...don’t understand why the Policies couldn’t be circulated if they were revised”
Your jaw dropped in disbelief, “What are you talking about??They were already revised and circulated” you answered with certainty, appalled by the childish games that were being played.
“Well…” pausing again, “I don’t see them in the Public Folder”she said stubbornly, to which you sighed, rubbing your temples, “ And according to my sources, It’s Paula Yang’s responsibility, am I right?” Though authority was rife in her tone, you could sense the menace that lingered invisibly.
“Ms. Bennett...” you gritted through your teeth, taking your hand away, “Paula is on bed rest after breaking HER LEG...from a biking accident last weekend” you burst out, “...if you looked up on our employees with the SAME ENTHUSIASM you did on our work, then you would probably know that” you spat, fuming with anger, “But If you expect me to deprive her of her paid leave, JUST SO she could just limp over here to UPLOAD SOME POLICIES to a server? then you’re sorely mistaken! ” You cried out, panting.
Subtly shocked at your response, Clara stood silently. Given her reaction, it was quite evident something disastrous would soon follow. Your threw your hands up in defense.
“Fine” you said, “If you prefer to pin this error on me, please do. But… not the department” you said, as your voice grew soft , “...please” you breathed.
Closing her eyes for a few seconds, Clara opened them once again, shooting you a stern glance.
“Do you know…what I was told about you before I came here?”
She posed a rhetorical question, to which you rightfully did not answer to, “An unprofessional thug, with anger issues.” She said.
In all your years of working at Wayne Enterprises, this was the far from what you had ever heard from anyone. The silence ruled over the atmosphere for a few more seconds.
“So I came in with a mission...” Clara went on, “...to tame you. Or to rile you up enough to expose who you really were” she said harshly. Folding your own arms in defense, you took a deep breath:
“Well,” you began, “I believe I was angry For the right reasons. So no regrets here” you answered with confidence. Whatever consequence that may follow, you were not aware of, for your justified rage may possibly have outdone yourself this time. You only wished Lillian would forgive you.
“But…”
Clara paused, “...from the way you stood up for your employees and your department…,” she said, as her expression softened, “ I guess… I was badly misinformed.”
Confusion took over you for the next few seconds, as she looked straight into your eyes before taking in a deep breath:
“I’m sorry!”
Your eyes widened, “P-Pardon?”
Sighing, Clara reluctantly rubbed the sides of her thighs:
“I’m sorry…If I insulted you in any way” she said shyly in a low tone, “Honestly speaking, no matter how much I tried to deny it, everything seems to be running smoothly” She added.
Relief quickly washed over you. Leaving you questioning reality all the sudden.
“ I would gladly leave you all alone but..,” Clara smiled, “I’ve been contracted here for a while. So, I hope we can all cooperate together till I leave. Maybe a fresh start?”
Extending her hand to you, she presented a genuine smile. A smile possibly carrying hope to gain your trust. Sincerely impressed by her bravery, you smiled back:
“Sure, Apology accepted” You said, shaking her hand, “I really appreciate it, Ms.Bennett”
“Clara, Please.” She insisted, “Ms.Bennett just pisses me off even more”
Chuckling together, you nodded, “Okay, Gotcha”
The phone rang loud to your surprise. Giving her a friendly wave, you quickly moved to your desk in a cheerful manner, growing even more cheerful upon seeing the extension on the phone screen.
“Mr. Fox!” You answered, as you sat down, “How can I help you?”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Since the fateful day she first laid eyes on him in his glorious return to Wayne Enterprises until now, Jessica would certainly never not blush whenever Bruce Wayne politely greeted her. Upon seeing her red face, he stepped into Lucius Fox’s office, walking over to find the CEO on the phone wearing a smile on his face.
“Don’t worry about it.” Fox said over the phone, “So you’ll come? Perfect…” He smiled, nodding at Wayne as he finally appeared in his eye line, “Hope to see you then” He added, hanging up the phone.
“I have to admit…” Fox began, ushering Bruce to sit, “… seeing you here every day at Wayne Tower is a happy surprise” He said. Bruce smiled.
“Everything alright?” He asked the CEO, “The Audits aren’t happening till another month or so..”
“No…” Fox shook his head, surprisingly impressed, “ I was actually wondering if you would…like to join me in the Company Dinner, this Thursday night. It’s a little gathering I normally do with the Heads of Departments...” he continued, glancing upon Wayne’s confused expression, “...to form a closer bond and… give them morale” He said, tilting his head. As much as the sentiment was kind, Wayne sighed with exhaustion.
“Mr.Fox, you know very well how I rather be stuck in the basement than go to that…” he said, slowly getting up, “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass”. Offering a polite smile, he turned around to make his leave. When opportunities to make a choice were given, he would certainly rather choose to not wear that mask in public. It tired him.
“She’s coming too”
Bruce froze, the moment Fox’s words reached his ears. Turning to him, he raised his eyebrows.
“She?” He began, “You mean…she?” He asked, highly emphasizing on the said pronoun, for both of them knew the person being discussed.
“Yes” Fox said, “Just got off the phone with her as you came in” he added, “I just thought you would like to know” with nonchalance, he casually put on his glasses.
Silently nodding, Bruce turned back to resume walking. Only except he halted once again, just to spin back around smoothly.
“Thursday…what time?” He inquired with genuine curiousity.
Being a man of his age, Lucius Fox could not help but smile at his response.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Being the workaholic, Lunch Breaks was nothing short of special for you. The moment the last bite of your delicious meal reached your lips, it was off to work once again, giving you ample time to finish your tasks. But this Wednesday, you cast that usual habit away, taking the luxury you rarely took during this entire decade.
Just to decide on a dress.
With your lunch on the desk and Allison on speakerphone, your eyes moved back and forth from two beautiful dresses on the website. With Mr. Fox casually inviting you to the Company Dinner, all you longed to provide was a good impression. Most women in your position would feel greatly pressured and stick to a salad just to fit into the dress. However, you were far too greedy to ignore the great Spaghetti Bolognese that was on the table before you.
“Sweetie, You know I love you, So why won’t you fucking listen to me?”
Allison’s echoed out loud, as you stared at the screen with concern.
“Cause it’s a crazy idea, that’s why ” you said, stuffing pasta into your mouth, “Better go with the black one…” you said with a full mouth, pointing at the long sleeved black dress, “It’s tame, and I can just blend in with crowd” squinting, you attempted at imagining yourself in the outfit.
“Boo! BORING”
Allison’s response was quite obvious.
“Hey!”
Clara’s whisper reached your ears, urging you to find her standing by the door with a smile. Ever since the intervention, the atmosphere underwent a surprising change, and all was well with the both of you. It was quite unbelievable how cooperative she had become.
“I’m sorry but...could I borrow a twenty?” She asked politely in a whisper, all in order not to intrude your call.
“Sure…” You whispered back, reaching into your bag to grab your purse, “Hah! Lucky you, that’s all I have” You grinned, fishing out the only dollar note as she headed over to take it from your hand.
“Hey! Hey! Sweetie, Did I lose you?”
Allison’s voice brought you back to the phone call.
“No! No! You didn’t…Sorry! Argh!” Groaning in frustration, you looked back at the computer screen, “I don’t know what to do, Ali…” You muttered.
“What is it?”
With her still standing there, Clara finally asked out loud. She genuinely looked concerned. Embarrassed, you pointed at the screen.
“No it’s just…” you paused, “I have to go to this Cooperate Dinner thingy tomorrow, and I don’t know what to get…” you added, “…the Black or the White”.
Silent for a few seconds, you stared at Clara as she rubbed her chin with seriousness, while making a careful observation at the screen. Finally, her fingers snapped loudly.
“The White One…”
Confidence oozed out of her voice as she replied. Looking back at the dress, you took a deep breath. V neck on the front along with a low cut in the back, the pure white silk evening gown certainly possessed the potential to be a show stopper.
“I mean…Why be afraid to stand out?”
Clara’s words, they rang in your ears so loudly. Pointing at the dress, she continued:
“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you”
The manner in which she uttered, you were suddenly filled with enough power to head out to the battlefield. Her words, they were simply invisible embellishments to the dress, making it the armor and the secret weapon. It simply became powerful. And finally, you were convinced on which dress to finally purchase. Lips forming into a warm smile, you thanked her inaudibly.
“YAY!”
Allison cried out on the line, “Whoever just said that, I agree with you”
Chucking, Clara cleared her throat and looked at your mobile phone.
“Hey there…It’s Clara by the way…” she said to Allison. You suppressed a huge grin as you imagined Allison’s surprise upon hearing that.
“Oh…YOU’RE Clara?…” she said, pausing, “Well I like how you think, Clara” she said happily afterwards.
Relieved by the sight of both your best friend and your new friend being acquainted, your eyes moved back to the beautiful dress.
“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you”
Clara may be right. But you were a simple woman, and your wishes were just as simple. Little did anyone know how your heart simply longed for just one person to indulge your presence for the entire evening. But the possibility of that, was just your wishful thinking. You could only hope for the evening be as successful as imagined. As long as it had the perfect touch of jazz piano playing in the background.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
With notes played with the fluidity of a free flowing stream, the jazz piano music was certainly better tonight than it was that Friday evening weeks ago. With tonight, you only hoped to replace the horrid memory of violence that linked the genre of music with an evening more refined. For tonight, you were no violator, nor a drunkard. You were merely a lady in a beautiful, silk dress.
Walking through the Lobby in your silver open toe heels, you came into the realization of how the dress simply became you. Contrary to your fears, it embraced your curves effortlessly, while the material was kind to you, caressing and cooling your skin.The dress itself contained a sense of assurance you would most likely receive from a trusted friend, some good Samaritan, kindly whispering positive affirmations. Fashioning the outfit with your Mikimoto pearls, you felt you were prepared enough.
You were punctual, fortunately. Lillian would have been proud. When you arrived at the reserved table, the other Heads were just about to take their seats. Cold, curt nods were passed on to you the moment they caught sight of you. Lucius Fox, however was humble enough to smile widely upon seeing you.
“I appreciate you coming in tonight…” He stated, as he politely ushered you to your seat, which granted you access between him and Head of Legal, Ted’s Boss, “This is usually Lillian’s gig” he said.
“Yes I heard,” you agreed while sitting down together, “And she does it flawlessly”
“I think you’ll be able to hold off your own” Fox assured, quite impressed by your appearance tonight. You smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Fox” you nodded, looking at him, until he suddenly rose from his own chair.
“Ah! The man of the hour”
He said as he looked ahead, “…so glad you could come, Mr.Wayne”
The mere mention of that man’s name made you turn forward in a flash. Bruce Wayne was simply Suave incarnate. He certainly brought forth great depth to his presence everywhere he set foot on. You swore the airways inside began to dry out as your breath was taken away in secret. However, that breath was quickly stomped and discarded recklessly when you realized he was no alone. With a beautiful woman on his arm, he arrived at the table.
When that strong, sour feeling came over you, you were mature enough to admit it was simple jealousy. Yet then again, the playboy lifestyle certainly was demanding. The flashing smile Bruce wore slightly disappeared , when his eyes met yours from the corner of the table. With your sour jealousy stewing you, it was a sheer relief that he took his seat on the other far corner.
“Really Mr .Wayne, This is such a pleasant surprise”
Mr. Kline, Head of Accounting mentioned with joy.
“Well, Mr. Fox is getting better with power of persuasion, I suppose ” Wayne said, looking at Lucius, “So...” rubbing his hands together, he smiled, “What are we all having? My treat...”
To everyone’s delight, the night certainly started off on a positive note. According to the trusted word of Lucius Fox, Sushi was the prime choice of food on every single dinner . It was the shared interest with all the Heads by coincidence. Thus, becoming a tradition.
Fortunately for you, you knew your way with Japanese cuisine enough to save your face. Wine and Sake were in abundance in the table, leaving most of the Heads and Wayne’s date quite excited with intoxication. It was certainly a surprise for you, to see the Heads break out into wide smiles and childish attitudes once the alcohol entered their systems. They did not speak much with you, which you were fine with. You were the new one there , after all. But with Fox next to you, you felt a fatherly figure watched over you. You listened to him with earnest, which was not so difficult with his charismatic voice.
You also longed for a distraction. A strong distraction from Bruce Wayne’s eyes secretly claiming ownership over you the entire time. Could he be watching Fox? Or you? You honestly did not know. As much as your inner heart jumped for Joy by the thought of him watching you, confusion ruled supreme.
The turn of the conversation topic from Work to Sailing suddenly tempted the Heads call Mr Fox over to the other side, forcing him and Bruce to change seats instead. His date did not even notice, as she was busy engrossed in her phone. Though you were at your element, calmly eating your maki rolls in silence, your heart beat increased in an instant when his presence nearby was confirmed. His aura gently murmured a greeting of affection, urging you to look up from your plate. Covering your mouth, you politely swallowed the food. With the others engaged in their own little world, it seemed that you and Bruce were suddenly left to yourselves.
“Thank you again for the Bakkwa”
You began, clearing your throat “…it was heavenly” you said, smiling whilst flashing your full red lips. Smiling back warmly, he leaned forward to the table.
“I don’t wanna brag but...” he paused, “I found that store all by myself” He said softly, as it was a dramatic secret. Eyes widened, you played along:
“Oh! I find that hard to believe” You said, chuckling.
“Ask me the address, I dare you” He said blankly, making you chuckle harder. Nodding, you generously accepted his kindness. Be it text or face to face, talking to Bruce Wayne symbolized pure joy to you.
“Well, well, well…”
An eerie voice, a voice that haunted your intoxicated memories, and a voice that caused the hairs of the back of your neck to stand. It was a voice you knew well. So bloody well.
“Isn’t this a surprise?”
The entire table looked over to find Erik Henderson. With a gracefully beautiful and age appropriate woman standing beside him, Henderson was as smug as he could be.
“Mr. Henderson...” Fox said. Henderson looked right at him.
“Lucius...” He uttered, without casting a single glance at Bruce Wayne. The sight of him brought a sense of fear to you. According to Officer Blake, he could very much be responsible for all the attacks you were victim to during the past few weeks. The possibility was high. Thus, the intimidation was justified. Funny how the intoxicated group of Heads managed to maintain their frozen states for a few seconds. As if their buzz was killed right off.
“Well,..” Henderson began, maintain his unimpressed expression, “I wish you all have a pleasant evening” He stressed , slowly turning to leave.
“And You!”
A gasp left you the moment he spun back to point his index finger at you with such ferocity and anger. With bated breath, you wondered if time froze.
Until he suddenly smiled at you.
“You behave now...”
He said mockingly, chuckling with power as he finally left the table. With the awkward silence taking control, embarrassment injected itself into you. The way he spoke to you was certainly disrespectful. So much so, your right hand quickly clenched into a tight fist , forcing you to revisit the trauma even now by his cruel words. All your anger, centralized into this fist.
But that anger suddenly vanished into thin air, the moment you felt Bruce’s palm rest over your fist. A literal warmth spread across every cell on your being, as his palm comforted you, and empathized with you more than ever. A few seconds of that sent you to a level of peace you never visited. The fact that a man such as he was with his inner conflicts could still heal you unexpectedly, it was magic to you. Finally looking at him, you nodded with gratefulness, leading him to take his away politely.
With silence still in charge, you were guilty of your past actions ruining tonight’s occasion as well.
“Maybe it’s the alcohol but...”
Kline slowly began, “...that Henderson’s face always reminds me of an…animal…” he remarked, breaking the ice, “l can’t place which one exactly...” He struggled, snapping his fingers away to remember.
“A Bat?” Another Head inquired.
“YES!” Kline yelled out loud, causing others to finally laugh and feel the comfort take center stage once more. Letting out a sigh, you were relieved to let them converse and make merry. You were occupied enough, recovering from Bruce’s sudden touch.
“...and speaking of Bats...” Kline slurred out, “That Batman fella...”
“-He comes up every time…” Fox yelled towards your direction with a sigh, while the others clapped in glee. Being so popular, it was no surprise that many consider Batman to be a celebrity of his own right.
“-wonder if he ever has any off days?” Kline sniggered, red in the face with sake.
“Ha! Like paid leave, you mean?”
“And don’t forget insurance! Boy! that man needs a big one”
“Hahaha!”
“Mr.Wayne! Mr. Wayne!” Kline yelled at Bruce, “Any idea about him from the grapevine ?” He inquired.
“What?” Bruce asked, “…that Looney!?!” He added with an amused smile, “Eh! Not interested” he replied with an unimpressed tone.
“Why?”
It seemed that everyone was curious. Even you were.
“Because...”
Bruce paused, “Well…he’s a Looney! That’s all….” he laughed, shaking his hand in the air with dismissal. His carefree laughter infected the others, except you. As you were too occupied observing him, you could not even focus. He may have not worn the cowl, but he was certainly wearing his mask. Noticing your stare, Bruce turned to find your face filled with a soft smile.
“You really don’t mean that about the guy, right?” You murmured softly. And all the sudden, that carefree expression of his slowly melted away to reveal his true form, unmasked.
“No”
Calm and collected, he shook his head with a gentle smile. A sudden urge to embrace him was birthed in you for some reason, it was certainly out of your control.
“Hey! Lillian’s Backup!”
You jumped upon hearing Kline call you out loudly. With all eyes on landing towards your direction, you quickly sat up straight, “What’s your take on him? The Batman?” Kline inquired informally.
“Oh!”
Pleasantly surprised, you were speechless for a few seconds. What were you to say really?
“I -I rather not say...” you admitted, as you found yourself chuckling shyly.
“Eh!” Kline muttered, seemingly unamused, “She’s no fun”he claimed, “…not like Lillian now, is she?”
The others hummed together in agreement. They may have gotten lost in their own world of conversation once again. Yet, the words Kline blurted affected you deeply.
“Well….” You sighed, “Nothing I haven’t heard before”
“What is…?”
Bruce’s inquiry made you look at him. Placing both your elbows on the table, you took a deep breath as you kept a brave, fixed gaze at him:
“You’re.. no… fun”
You said, in a low yet strong tone as you emphasized on every word with pain, “…that one”
“I find that hard to believe” Bruce said. He did not flinch. Instead, he accepted your stare and held on to it firmly. Even with the golden lights you were still able to make out the beautiful hazel green eyes of his up close. His gaze, it was as powerful as anything physical. As if his eyes could caress the back of your neck, brushing the loose hair from it, leaving nothing but shivers on you.
Finally breaking free from it, you sat back with a chuckle.
“Well” you began, “…you obviously haven’t met my ex”
You watched his eyebrows furrow the moment those words exited you. Taking a huge sip of wine, you pressed your lips together.
“He said I fall too fast....” you began, “or care too much...or something”
Revisiting that dark period in your life was akin to walking a thousand miles backwards, just to get your heart pricked by sharp, rusted nails. The mere image of it forced you to gulp more wine.
“Well, Where is he now?”
Bruce asked softly. Taking a third sip, you looked back at him:
“You mean after he cheated on me?” You asked, chuckling sadly, “…He flew off somewhere…with his new girlfriend” you said, sighing “Apparently I was too predictable and doesn’t play hard to get”
“Then…” Bruce began, “…what about you throwing punches at Henderson?”
“That?” You widened your eyes, “Oh that’s just the whiskey”
Laughter ensued, breaking the tension between the two once again. Truthfully, you felt much at ease right then.
“I bet you don’t have that problem, playing the field and all” You said, holding on to your wine glass. Bruce smiled.
“Ah! Getting too attached doesn’t help anyone, I guess” he answered. And for some reason, you could empathize. Now more than ever.
“True...” you agreed, looking at him. However, that warmth you carried for him was also enlarged, and suddenly emotion overpowered logic.
“I know this is the corniest you’ve heard always….” you paused, “…but when the right person comes along...it’s so worth it” you continued, taking a deep, shaky breath, “…even if your heart gets broken into millions...billions of pieces”
Your eyes locked onto his with every word you uttered, and to your surprise, he did not look away. For a moment, his gaze on you translated into deep belief. For a Moment, his gaze dismissed every other occupant in the restaurant, except you. For a moment his silence proved that anything was possible.
Until you realized, never was life that easy.
“But like I said…”
You added, blinking away the heavy stare, “... it’s not your problem” You said, fiddling with your clutch purse mindlessly.
“Actually I-”
“Whoops!”
You sniggered when the clutch purse dropped out of your hand. Laughing together, you both found yourselves bending down to search for it.
“Let Me get that-” Bruce volunteered, as he spotted the purse, grabbing it for you.
“Thank you” You murmured shyly, reaching out your hand to take it.
The mere act of a clutch purse being transferred from one hand to another never felt this intense. A circus act commenced inside your stomach all the sudden. The manner you found yourself blushing, certainly proved his effect as a whole. The warmth of his palm earlier, it brought protection and comfort in the time of danger. However, the slightest brush of his fingers just now, it birthed confetti of butterflies, causing the internal circus to go berserk.
As he looked you up and down, you prayed he did not notice the red on your cheeks. For this man had such power over you, it was sheer chaos. But a beautifully, addictive one.
“Your Dress...” he breathed, making your own breath shake, “You look very-”
“Bruce!”
A seductive voice emerged out of the blue, as you realized it was his date walking over to his side. Being one of Gotham’s most well known supermodels, she exuded beauty with her tall and thin frame and brunette locks flowing down her shoulders. Wrapping her goddess-like arms around his neck, she whispered a few words to him before heading over to the restroom area. Compared to her, you felt like a little cinder block.
“She’s beautiful...” you muttered hoarsely, looking down at your wine. You heard him sigh uncomfortably.
“Listen...” Bruce began, causing your heart to long for hope, “I-”
“Would you like anything else, Sirs?”
The emotional roller coaster unexpectedly finished its ride when an over enthusiastic waiter’s loud voice caused everyone in the table to look up.
“No, Thank you...” Fox said, slowly getting up, “Actually, I think might head home now”
“And I will join you”
You said, standing up in a flash, “Ladies, Gentleman...” you nodded to the Heads, “...Mr. Wayne”
Giving him a slight nod, you turned to follow Lucius Fox. You dared not turn back to see his face. That would just show weakness. Just walk away, it was the right thing to do. The longer you will linger, the stronger your attachment will be. The stronger your need to love him will be. And what would be the use of strengthening that existing love, when the odds were always in the way?
Seduced by the women with the highest standards of beauty and power, you obviously must seem like nothing for a man such as he. You were simply charity, the employee in need. Perhaps your ex was right, You really were no fun.
Besides, being jealous was never your right, not especially when you did not even pour your heart out. And when you would not even consider doing so, being tied to morals, ethics and rules?
And if he even had not shown you his own heart, what gave you the right to be angry with anyone, except yourself?
You asked yourself, why were you wasting your time?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Allison’s eyes grew wide with excitement the moment you arrived home.
Clutching onto her bowl of popcorn, she watched you close the door and lean against it to look back at her. Though her hair was in a messy bun, she still managed to pull off ‘homely cool’.
“So...” she began softly, “How did it go?”
Silent, You took a deep breath, not knowing where to begin.
“Well-”
“-Did you make Wayne cream his pants?”
Allison cut you off with glee, seemingly over excited. Jaw dropped, your face contorted with disgust.
“Ali! …ewww”
You exclaimed, seeing her perverted expression and suggestive eyebrows. Truthfully the thought of it brought some laughter soon after. You felt calmer.
“Well, did he?” Allison was persistent.
Pushing yourself from the door, you began to take off your shoes, “Well…” You paused, “I think he liked what he saw” you said smiling shyly.
“Yeah?” Her excitement still intact, as you sat next to her.
“I think so…” you said, reminiscing those precious moments his blessed eyes watched only you, “…but…” you paused, “it doesn’t matter…”, Sighing, you shook your head frantically, “…cause he was with a Supermodel tonight so...”
“Supermodel? Sweetie, I’m sorry” laying her head on your shoulder, Allison sighed in response. Patting her on the lap, you got up. Just like that, the little giddy excitement between two women suddenly crashed and burned upon knowing they were hopeless going against a supermodel.
“Hey! by the way…” Allison began, “…did you give money for Mrs. Hernandez’s going away party?”
You froze.
“Shit!” You cried out, “ I forgot!”
Mrs. Hernandez was one of the lovely tenants in the apartment building who will be moving out this week to go live with her son. All tenants were supposed to pool in for the going away party, today being the deadline. Opening your purse with haste, you groaned.
“Damn it! I don’t have any change...”
Of course you did not. Not when you gave away your last note to Clara yesterday. With the current use of cards and e-payment, you rarely used cash these days.
“Me neither, Sweetie”
Allison replied, mindlessly staring at the television. You sighed. Transferring the money will not do as it wont be convenient for the others. And being a bad tenant was the last thing on your mind.
“Screw it!” You said, “I’ll just go get some now”
Running to your room, you proceeded to change.
“Cool…” Allison uttered quietly, until she remembered, “By the way, can you also get milk?”Allison yelled to your room, “WE’RE OUT ALREADY!!”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If wearing an elegant dress brought out the glamorous woman in you, then leggings and an oversized black hoodie brought out the homebody. With the hood over your head, you dug your hands in the deep pockets whilst standing at the line for the ATM. What was taking so long?
Almost 11pm, yet the neighborhood was bustling more than usual. In fact, it fascinated you. Younger folk in higher numbers lingered hanging about by the Bodega. You wondered if a party was taking place somewhere nearby, as most of them wore clothes with a similar vibe. Some danced to the loud music that played, some drank sitting on the pavement, while some lined up in front of you in the ATM line. Was it a party? Or a flashmob? Or were you suddenly intruding the filming of a music video? It simply seemed so unrealistic. Could it be the sake and wine were forcing you to imagine all this?
Then moment your phone started to ring, you knew you were not imagining. Not when the phone vibrated in your hand, not when the name of the caller caused you to breath deeply.
“Mr.Wayne?”
His breath over the phone sent shivers down your spine so subtly. Attraction was indeed a strange phenomenon.
“Hey! Did you go home okay?”
He asked. Nodding, you looked around.
“Of course.” You replied, “Mr. Fox was kind enough to drop me straight home”
“Good. Good,”
As he muttered in a rush, you heard him exhale, “ Listen, can we talk? ”
Nervousness took you over with a sudden burn in your face. What must he wish to say? Was he attempting to confirm what you already dread about? Was he fully acknowledging your desires to be futile and hopeless? You kept quiet as he continued:
“About tonight…I really-” he paused, “Where are you?”
The loud cheers of some of the younger folk interrupted the conversation. Amongst the crowd, a lone figure walked over to the middle of the street.
“I’m at the Bodega nearby my place” you replied, trying to be nonchalant with him. However, somehow that lone figure standing managed to capture your attention, "Huh! Strange...”
“What is it?”
Your eyebrows furrowed the moment the figure turned to face your direction. Familiarity was quite strong in him.
“There’s this guy here…” you said, “… who looks just like-”
You froze, “Oh no!” You breathed.
The moment the figure effortlessly pulled out a portable machine gun from his oversized long coat, it clearly dawned on you on who he really was:
“Mr. Slender?” You muttered to yourself.
Pointing the weapon upwards, loud and rapid shots were fired, causing panic amongst the public. The shock forced your hands to lose control, almost dropping your phone to the ground.
“Hello? Hello?”
You heard Bruce loud and clear, yet you were not in the right state of mind to respond. The chaos, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel.
“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND, NOW!”
Mr.Slender bellowed, finally revealing his masculine and controlled voice. The public, including those inside the Bodega made their way to the ground. With Mr. Slender’s reinforcements inside the building, it was made sure no one were to reach out for law enforcement any time soon. Just when it seemed all had complied to his command, one obstinate young man rose up quickly.
“Hey man!” The man cried out, walking over to him, “Be cool…Be-”
“I SAID ON THE GROUND!”
Blood curdling screams erupted from the crowd when Mr.Slender brutally fired at the man, sending him flying back, falling on to the ground like a bloody piece of meat. Given the continuous reactions from the people nearby, he was certainly dead. Emptiness and fear swallowed you whole upon witnessing this.
“DON’T EVEN THINK OF BEING STUBBORN!! ”
Mr.Slender yelled out, brandishing his gun around, “MY DEMANDS ARE SIMPLE...”
He continued, “I’M LOOKING FOR ONE PARTICULAR PERSON…” he said, “AND I WILL NOT LEAVE…UNTIL THAT PERSON STEPS FORWARD!!”
Scenes such as these, they were never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.
Especially when the person he was looking for, was you.
——————————————————
Chapter 6 HERE
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Devil in Disguise -J.T.
Summary: Halloween parties in Gotham were nothing short of an all out affair, so what happens when you get dragged to one against your will held at Wayne Manor?
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Word Count: 738
Warning: fluff, terrible pick up lines
A/N: To the Anon that sent this in, I had so much fun writing this! It was adorable and want to write more. This was on the shorter side, I am sorry. Send me more requests guys! I am desperate!
“Go on (y/n), go talk to him!” your best friend urged. She gave you a shove, you glaring at her as she continued to try and push you towards the taller guy at the end of the bar. It was Halloween night, and you were dragged out of your cozy apartment by your ever-so-loving best friend Alex against your will.
You tried to play the excuse of not having a costume, but of course Alex came prepared and had bought you an angel costume. It wasn’t a bad fit, but the cleavage dipped a little lower than you had hoped and the length of the skirt was a little too short for your liking but you were still comfortable.
Gotham seemed to thrive on Halloween, and it seemed that everyone was having a party. But none of them were as coveted as the Halloween Party thrown in Wayne Manor, the very same party Alex had managed to get tickets for and you were currently present at. You had yourself mostly convinced that she had sold her soul to get those tickets, but maybe the night would not be as bad as you were thinking.
The music was loud, and you had held the same drink in your hand for the last hour and a half. It was different from the normal galas Bruce Wayne held, this one seemed to be planned by all the kids he had adopted over the years. The walls were decorated in fake webs, balloons and streamers and the lights were filtered with orange and purple so it was a darker setting.
The guy in question that your friend was trying to make you go talk to, was on the opposite end of the bar that you were on and was not-so-subtly stealing glances at you. You let out a sigh as you threw back the last of your drink, hoping the liquid courage would help you out a little bit before closing the distance between the two of you.
Jason had seen you coming from a mile away, he had almost made the first move but it was a pleasant surprise when he noticed that you were walking towards him. He had decided to dress as the devil, the inside joke being that he was such a pain in the ass that the devil had to kick him out of hell.
No one had found that funny except Stephanie and Damian. Tim tried to hide his laughs, but the glare he got from Dick and Barbara shut him up quickly.
Adjusting the horns on his head, he turned his body towards you taking in the angel costume you had worn.
“You must be from heaven, because I think I just found my guardian angel.” he said, sipping his drink to hide the smirk on his face. What he wasn’t expecting was you to respond back the way you did.
“You must be the devil because it just got hot in here.” you countered, a grin present on your face. It didn’t fade when you saw him almost choke on his drink, suppressing a slight giggle.
Jason’s eyes went wide, he must have died again and gone to heaven. There was no way in hell a girl like you would be openly flirting with him like this on earth. He let out a chuckle and held out his hand to you.
“Jason, and what’s your name angel?” he asked.
You took his large hand in yours, feeling the rough callouses he had and shook it. “(y/n), and how do you know I’m not a devil in disguise?” you asked.
Jason laughed, pulling you closer. “Well, how about a dance with the devil?” he teased. You let out a laugh as you nodded, and the two of you walked to the dance floor.
He held you close to him as your bodies moved in synch, who knew that you would find your own fallen angel while at a Halloween party? You for sure never thought that you would, but when your eyes met his you felt yourself being drawn further into his enchanting eyes that almost seemed unnatural.
This had turned out to be one of the best nights of your life, you had spent the entire time on Jason’s arm to the point it almost felt natural. Maybe the opposing costumes were a sign from the beyond that you were meant for each other.
#Costly Affairs#Jason Todd#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#jason todd x reader#jason todd reader insert#halloween prompts#halloween#fluff#DC comics#BatFam#batfamily#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x reader insert#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#red hood#red hood fic#red hood fanfiction#red hood x reader#red hood x reader insert#red hood x y/n#red hood x you
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