#The batman imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetums0kitty · 1 year

Text

Good Things in Small Packages

Edward Nashton x Soft!Dom reader

Warnings: Bondage, edging, 18+, Minors DNI.

Summary: Eddie won't listen when you say he's beautiful, what better way to convince him than a game of cat and mouse

Commission for @lovesickrobotic

“Lovely, just lovely.” Placing a long revenant kiss onto the cherubic cheek of the man securely bound below you. His lengthy form contorted slightly pushing himself further into the mess of pillows you had set him against. Pouting you leaned over and gently grasped his flushed cheek tilting the rounded face of your beloved. Edward was caught instantly within the intensity of the gaze. From the way you held his face gently stroking the right side with your left hand while the other was tracing the tendons of his throat. His pulse was racing wildly causing a gentle giggle to bubble up and out of your chest. "Eddie!" cooing you lent forward and placed another kiss on his fervent skin eliciting a shrill whine that buzzed your lips pleasantly. Edward squirmed under your touch but it was no use the silken fabric contoured around his plush form binding him to your will. Which, presently was to absolutely drench his entire being with as much affection as you could. Usually, Eddie would shy away from your praise, ducking his head to avoid the intensive expressions of love you desperately longed to lavish him with. Well! No more could he dodge you, once and for all you were going to worship Eddie the way he deserved.

Moving your lips downward you began to pepper little pecks and licks into the lower portion of Edward's face. Making doubly sure to reserve your slowest kisses for those points on his neck that pulled the sweetest sounds from within. "Y-Y/N I-!" nipping lightly at his Adam's apple Edward was bucking below you wildly. The contact with your soft lips and curved form was entirely too much and nothing at all. Internally a war was brewing in your beloved. The softer part of Edward was clawing fiercely to accept your affections, sink himself back into the pillows, and stuffed toys you had placed around his bound form in devoted adoration. But no matter how he tried the nagging voice in his brain slithered in whispering that he wasn't worth your love, and didn't deserve to be cared for in this way. There wasn't a time before meeting and falling in love with you that Eddie was shown this level of care, why should he get used to it now? Why should he grow fond of the feeling of your lips on his feverish skin… When… when… Before the negative spiral could truly take root you had crashed your lips to his in a fervent kiss chasing away the storm clouds and refocusing Edward's attention on you.

"You're thinking too much!" cooing in a sing-song tone. Your nails gently scratched his scalp stroking Edward's soft brown hair. Leaning into your touch your boyfriend mewled forlornly. "Sorry… I guess I'm not good at this whole… being loved thing." shrugging to the best of his ability despite the bindings. Frowning slightly as you thought of how best to get Edward's mind focused where it really belonged. Slowly a wicked grin formed on your lips. "Eddie~!" purring seductively as you sensually stroked his protruding stomach. You adored every inch of his lengthy body but his tenderly soft tummy was your favorite. He was staring at you with a slightly concerned expression saying nothing. Kissing his cheek you leaned into his ear whispering lowly "You wanna play a game?" Words dripping with seduction watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed shallowly. "What kind of game?" came his nervous reply. Giggling you wrapped an arm around his shoulders as you tugged him flush to your body. The sides of your breasts were pressing into his pallid chest. With every breath you took, they pushed tantalizingly close to his. "One we can both win.. one that lets me open you up. You are my special gift aren't you?" With the way, the bright green pupils behind his lenses were dilated you knew you were on the right track. "I- uh.. yeah." the reply was lame but blood was quickly rushing out of Edward's brain as you began to kiss your way down his body.

"Wha-ahh-t's the game?" voice cracking as your warm, wet tongue swirled around his quickly hardening nipples. Causing a hissing sigh from his plush lips when you began to suck gently. Kissing and licking the buds. Your other hand rolled the pert nipple under your thumb. Eddie's chest heaved as he moaned from your worship. Popping off his chest you kissed between his collarbones and laid them into his sternum. "Mm, since you can't seem to find it in you to accept my praise.. even though it's the absolute truth! I thought we'd try a little "positive reinforcement" using your fingers to continue to massage his chest. "How are you going to that?" his voice melted into a high-pitched whine of disappointment as you moved downwards licking lazily around the ribbons that crissed and crossed over his stomach. Bits of him sagged over the bows. He was your beautiful gift. Time to start unraveling the wrappings that held Eddie to earth. Nibbling gently at the pudge that resided there. It always struck you dumb over how beautiful he was in all his soft curves and long features. There was a grace in how his brow furrowed while working out a puzzle, how fast his brilliant mind would work out a problem and find the answer. However, you found him most beautiful at the precipice between brilliance and pure animal lust. Emerald eyes locked onto your hand as it slowly drifted down between his soft thighs. Gently running your nails between the binds around his flesh, twirling around his already leaking cock. You giggled softly as his hips bucked into your phantom touches. "God Eddie…" breathing heavily as you pressed warm, worshipful kisses around the skin of his inner thighs, before drifting your mouth over and hotly kissing his weeping cockhead. Listening to the sweet sobs that fell from his throat all while you worshipped him. Suddenly you bent up from between his legs using the binds at his chest as leverage to bring him in for a kiss that was all passion, yet still gentle. Softly exploring the cavern of his mouth with your tongue. His danced along yours in a fluttering mating ritual that pulled a guttural groan from deep within your throat.

Pulling way to cradle his flushed cheeks you gazed down at his little love-drunk smile. Gently you moved back down his body sitting between his thighs. "You ready to play the game sweetie?" Looking up at him through your lashes catching sight of his quickly bobbing mess of tawny brown hair "M'ready….." hips squirming together to the best of his abilities, you sighed quickly pinning him down. "Easy Eddie!" Cooing you gently stoked his thigh letting your hand fall to the taught base of his cock, where your silky soft hand ghosted up the shaft gripping it firmly in the middle. Letting it rest as you looked directly into his blown-out eyes, nearly black with lust. "The game is simple, I'm going to play with your cock and every time I compliment you, you're going to repeat what I say back or I'll stop stroking. Gluping down the lump in his throat your sweet little gift nodded shallowly to show he understood. Smiling at his acceptance you placed your other hand on his lower stomach, petting the flushed skin that resided there. "Good boy."

It was then time for the game to begin. All at once you had spit into your hand and then began to slowly pump his cock. Up, down, up, down, it was methodical the way you were massaging his skin. Thumb traveling up to circle his red tip. Your hands were heaven on earth for Edward as low sobbing moans flowed out of him. Enjoying the way his chest heaved as all the mussels in his body strained against the ribbons. In a moment your hand stopped pulling his attention to your face. "Eddie… You're so beautiful, the most beautiful person in Gotham." Starting with a hard one probably wasn't fair, but it was for the best. Almost gagging on his words Eddie's broken little voice choked out "I-I'm beau-fuck!" Your pointer finger and thumb had formed a ring and that was what currently was rubbing against his throbbing shaft going from feather soft to tight against him in an instant. "I-I- I'm beautiful! T-the most beautiful person- in Gah-Gotham!" squealing at the end as your nails brushed his leaky slit. "Good job Eddie!" cooing his flushed, sweat-covered skin, the silly round smile painted onto his cheeks Time for a harder one." You matter so so much, I don't know what I would do without you." He squeaked as you kept rubbing his cock milking the compliments from his lips. The same way you were milking the pre-cum from his tip.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut, in an almost pained expression, Your words, he heard them, they slammed into his heart like a fright train but he just couldn't get them to repeat, "Y-Y/N I can't- I'm not!" babbling as his body kept pulling at the ribbons, thrashing back into the large squishmallow he was snuggled into. Tears had begun to form on long bottom lashes, and the pink rose petals of his bottom lip wobbled tragically. Still, your hand deftly continued to rub at him. "Yes you can baby, I know you can." crooning softly. Your warm lips kissed his stomach lazily as you rested your head on his lower abdomen. "You don't want me to stop do you?" before you could finish asking Eddie shrieked no. Laughing slightly at the response you smiled while using your other hand to wipe his tears. "Recite." firmly holding his cock in place.

"I… matter so, so much" Choking down a sob as you kept massaging his dick Eddie managed to continue his recitation. Over and over your words were pounded into his skull as you expertly kept him on the edge of his orgasm. Finally coming to the very last set of words for him to repeat. Smoothly you had settled into Eddie's side a fitting place to be when he reached his end. "I'm a very good boy, who is going to cum all over my hand." In his state of delirium, Eddie didn't notice your command. Too busy being a blushing fucked out mess he mumbled the words back. "M'a very good boy… Gunna cum all o'ver your hand." It wasn't until you were letting go of his cock and he felt the thick ropes of cum hitting his stomach that he realized the whining moans were his own. You soothed Eddie through his orgasm gently cradling him in your arms as you stroked his hair. "Thank you, baby, you did so good for me." Peppering kisses into his cheeks. Coming down for his high Edward snuggled into your arms. He was stripped bare and laid out before you. But instead of mocking him or ripping his heart out you took the parts of him that sagged with lack of love and filled it with your adoration for him. "I- love you Y/N.." gasping between heaving breaths. You simply returned your lips to his kissing Edward as if your lives depended on it.

421 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

Note

Bestie- u didn’t just deliver u served and I’m the greedy gremlin who’s eating this up, that was amazing, he’s so skrunkly I love him 😔Ur gonna kill me here but bestie I need them to meet I can’t 😩

This is the effect of me doing sudokus and crosswords in the ethics lecture... Was listening to Jasmine Thompson's cover of 'Rather Be' while writing this and honestly?? A whole mood

Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5]

That day felt weirdly long as if hours were stretching out as much as the universe would allow them to. You haven't felt that tired and fed up in quite a while, dreaming about the soft comfort of your own bed during your commute back home.

Home, however, had another surprise in store for you:

"Perfect timing, Eddie," you said to yourself as you tore the envelope off your front door. "Could use a little pick-me-up."

You opened the letter and couldn't help the surprise at the front of the card you were given. For some reason, it said "Invitation" in fancy, glittery writing. Inside, on the left side was another torn-out page from a poetry collection.

Underneath an apple-tree Sat a maiden and her lover; And the thoughts within her he Yearned, in silence, to discover.

Under the piece of a poem were written only two words: "Meet me". Your gaze followed the vague message to the right side of the card where a small map was drawn. It looked like a bird's view of a restaurant or a bar with a question mark drawn over one of the, as you had assumed, tables like the little map was the continuation of the unfinished sentence. On top of the drawing was scribbled an address, a date and an hour. You were supposed to meet him in a week's time.

From that moment on, you could hardly think about anything else and, little did you know, so did he. It was going to be a fateful Wednesday evening.

"That's the place," you whispered to yourself as you checked the GPS on your phone again.

You found yourself standing before a desolate diner that looked like it was taken straight out of Quentin Tarantino's movie. But you had to admit that the Pulp Fiction feel to the locale was charming in some way as if gracefully continuing your dilemma whether you were now the main character of a rom-com or a slash horror film.

"Here goes nothing," you said with a sigh. With each step towards the front door of the diner, your restlessness was only increasing.

The bell near the door chimed cheerfully as you hesitantly entered the building. At first, you couldn't see a soul inside - even the waitress was more of a cryptid as you could only hear her quiet chatter with the cooks coming from the kitchen. They left the door slightly ajar. According to the drawing, the marked table should be the one under the vintage-style graffiti with a pin-up girl holding a tray of apple pie. Your heart stopped for a moment, seeing that the booth was occupied.

Ever since he sat down in that booth, he'd been eyeing the door, waiting for the fateful moment you enter. The muffled laughter of the waitress rung in his ears and Eddie was half-convinced that she was laughing at him. After all, who was he to ever believe that you were actually going to show up? That you would be anything but disgusted with him?

He watched as you checked his little drawing once more. You turned your head towards him and Ed could swear the time actually slowed down if not entirely stopped when your gaze met his. The moment you realized that it was him, a bright smile appeared on your face, making Eddie's palms even sweatier than they already were. He just knew he was going to mess things up - there was no way in Hell that he could impress you. That much was obvious to Eddie.

You were just so... unreal to him. There he was: the loser, the loner, the butt of the joke and there were you, the epitome of grace approaching the table he was sitting at. He couldn't believe his own senses, some anxious beast still gnawing at his thoughts, that you didn't immediately turn around and left once you saw him.

"Hey," you said softly as you sat down across from him.

"H-hi," he nervously stuttered out.

Eddie looked more or less as you expected him to: a quiet, kind of awkward and easy-to-overlook guy who had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Your friends always found it very amusing that you had a thing for underdogs. No matter how strange it might sound to anyone else, you thought there was a certain charm to his awkwardness like an adorable deer caught in headlights.

"You have great taste." You waved the "invitation" card before putting it back into your purse.

"In what?" Eddie asked sheepishly. His mind was fluctuating between blankness and intrusive thoughts, so coherence and reason weren't something he could count on at the moment.

You shrugged. That bright, showstopping smile was still on your face and Eddie felt he wouldn't be able to look away from you even if he wanted to. "Poetry. Flowers," you counted. "Girls."

His chubby cheeks turned crimson red at your words. Your confidence made him even more aware of his incapacitating insecurity. Eddie believed his intrusive thoughts: there was nothing he could delight you with.

"I loved your riddles," you confessed. "You're really good at it."

A flutter of his heart and a ray of lovesick hope.

473 notes · View notes

kaleidoscopewritings19 · 1 year

Text

Bruce Wayne x Female!Reader

Title: “Bringing Me Out of the Darkness.”

Pairings: Bruce Wayne (Battinson) and female reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression, mood swings, and anger.

—————-

Bruce felt like his life was mostly consumed of darkness. His parents being killed right in front of him, messed him up in more ways than he could count. He was traumatized, he was frustrated with himself; he could have stopped it.

That was what he remembered every year that marked the anniversary of their death. Bruce was reminded year after year, month after month, week after week, and day after day: “I could have done something. Anything. There could have been more that I could have done.”

And if anyone tried to tell him differently, he would get mad. Boy, was Bruce filled with anger. He couldn’t remember a day he was happy. Not until he met you.

Before then, there was no use in trying to remember what true happiness felt like. But that anger was still there, he felt it every night when he was protecting Gotham, he felt it when he would be fighting a criminal. He felt it randomly at night, in the morning, and even when he felt content, the anger would creep its way in. The depression would set in at random points in the day or month; he would be content and happy, and his mood would change entirely.

He always told Alfred that no one would want to deal with his erratic emotion changes, and yet, here you were. Five months in, and you hadn’t run away, or left him because of it.

One night, in particular, was hard on Bruce. It had been twenty years since the death of his parents. He watched the clock tick to the exact time, at which they died; 8:28 PM. He was on a building looking down at the city of Gotham, and he could feel the tears sting his eyes.

He was 32 years old, and still in pain from his parent's death. The anxiety, the brokenness he felt inside, took the air from his lungs, making him collapse to the ground. Bruce had to go back home; he couldn’t stand another second in the filth that filled Gotham’s streets.

When he had gotten back to the manor, he didn't even bother to undress out of his suit. Instead, he trudged up the stairs, and went into the bedroom he shared with you. He could hear you singing in the shower, and he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bathroom door.

You were this bright, ball of sunshine, and he felt like the dark clouds that would ruin a perfectly beautiful day. He prayed and hoped that he would never drag you down into the darkness with him.

He didn't know how long he sat there in his thoughts, nor did he ever hear the shower turn off. But when he looked up, you were standing in the bathroom doorway with a blush pink babydoll nightgown on. Your wet hair was wrapped in a towel, and Bruce hadn't seen anything more perfect in his life.

His eyes followed down your body. "Bruce, are you okay?" you questioned. When he didn't answer, you slowly approached him; his cowl was still on and you took it off, setting it on the night stand.

Bruce's hair was sweaty and messy from the cowl. Your hands ran through his hair, and Bruce leaned into your touch. You knew it was the anniversary of his parent's death, so you sat down on his thigh. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you cradled him into your body.

The very town his parents tried to help and fix, took his parents away from him. Bruce questioned out loud, “Why do I protect the city that will never change?”

Your hand went to the chest of his suit, and it hovered over where his heart was. Warmth spread through Bruce's body as your index finger lifted up his chin so you could look into his eyes. When his eyes met yours, your forehead rested on his; your words came out like silk:

"Because of this.” You said while rubbing over his heart. “You protect it because you want it to be a better place, Bruce. You're protecting those who are not able to protect themselves. You give people hope. You are being the person you wished was there for you when you were in that alleyway." you whispered that last part.

He knew you were always stepping on eggshells around him. He knew you never wanted to say the wrong thing, or hurt his feelings, or reopen old wounds. But you were right; the words you spoke were nothing but the truth, he had just forgotten why he did what he did.

"Why are you with me? How can you put up with me being like this all of the time?" he questioned. He hated this part of him; he always had to be reassured, but he couldn't help it. But you understood. You didn't get mad or judge him for it either.

Your nose brushed his, "I know this day is hard for you... I know life is a constant battle for you... But I am here, and I'm not leaving. I'm here as long as you want me to be here, because I want this, I want you, Bruce." he watched your lips as you spoke these words to him.

His breath got caught in his throat, when you hand caressed his cheek, "I love you, Bruce. I will love you on the good days and the really bad ones."

Bruce had finally felt the anger, the sadness, and the anxiety leave his body. He felt content and you leaned your head on his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. "Thank you." he whispered with a breath of relief, and contentment.

When you laid down next to him on the bed, you wiped the black makeup from around his eyes with a makeup wipe. You pressed a kiss on his temple, then his forehead, under his eye, on his nose, and on his chin. Your lips were like a medication for Bruce, and when you pressed a kiss to lips, he held your face close.

He didn't want to pull away from you, so naturally the kiss deepened, and became more intimate. Bruce had never gotten this close to anyone before, and with you, he wanted to be closer. He had finally let you in, and he was glad he did.

Bruce hovered over you, and he leaned his forehead against yours, "Thank you, Y/N." He pressed a long kiss to your lips, "I-I love you." he whispered against your lips. And once more, he thanked you, "You are the light in my darkness." A smile broke across your face, and you pulled him back down to your lips.

That night, he didn't look at the clock to see the time. Normally, he would sit there and recall what he did every hour the night his family had died. He focused on you, and the future he wanted with you. He had to make Gotham a safer place for you. Bruce had to better himself for you, but more than anything, he wanted to be better for himself too.

When you had finally fallen asleep, Bruce watched you intently. His fingers gently pushed the hair from your face and whispered one last time: "Thank you for bringing me out of the darkness."

--------------

I hope you guys enjoyed this! This is intended for the Battinson Bruce Wayne, but you can picture whichever version of Bruce you want. Feedback is always helpful! <3

#bruce x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x batmom #battinson #the batman 2022 #the batman x reader #the batman imagine

162 notes · View notes

madwomansapologist · 9 months

Note

Mint chip — how did they court their lover? + Bruce/Batman 😳🙏

mint chip — how did they court their lover?

⤷ with: bruce wayne

I actually can talk about it with proper knowledge because he's my husband. So much easier that way.

It will really depend on who you meet first. The whole flow of your relationship (either it's as friends, enemies, lovers), can be decided in minutos upon Bruce meeting you.

If you meet Bruce Wayne first, his whole playboy persona will be an important part of your first interactions.

If you're a reporter who can see through his act, than there would be a sense of a shared secret between you both. You made through one of his many masks, which brings you closer to the real person. In cases like that, his courting will be more honest. There is no need to pretend to be shallow.

He will watch over you, both as Bruce and Batman. He will watch you on the news, hear all your programs during work (it help him focus), read your articles. Then when he talks to you, he can talk about the things that matter to you. He will also watch recording the news whenever he know you're on a dangerous place. He will protect you from afair without you even knowing.

If you're someone from his friend circle, another bilionaire of Gotham, than he have this mask he won't let go. But even tho you had to deal with his act, there is some sense of belonging. Of understanding him. Bruce can pretend from whoever long he need, but there is no way to foolish a real friend.

You care about him. You can see how he apparently doesn't sleep. That he's always in pain somehow. And when Bruce understands that his act didn't fully confused you, then he knows he have someone caring for him. Someone able to look at him and call his bullshit out. Someone that will kick him off parties saying he needs to sleep or he will never see you again.

If that's the case, than Bruce will court you as most imagine. Flowers, caring for you during your day by day, showing his more possessive side during events. In some ways, Bruce will be trying to give all you care back to you.

Now as an enemy, that would be kind of dificult for the both of you. You two have diferences that can't be overlooked. There is a abysm between you both, and somehow that's what brings you closer to one another. There is a sense of understanding, of longing, that can only be shared by two enemies.

You both have secrets. Masks and more masks to protect yourselfs. Is he Bruce Wayne, the man that suffers and loses and pretends, or is he Batman, the thing that endure and change and pretend? Which one is the real one and which one the act? How could he ever come to an answer for that?

And you, the love he feels for you, will just make those questions harder to answer. When he fights with you, he would rather not hurt you. If he sees you, he would observe you for more reasons than just the public safety. When he has the chance of really stopping you, somehow he can't.

What every situation has in common is that Bruce will love from distance before getting close. He will protect you, you being able to do it for yourself or not. He may stay away out of distrust, to protect, to learn more about you: let's not forget, he's a vigilante but first he's a detective. Bruce will make sure that he understands you before doing something.

You may know just one side of him, but do you really? Because when you care about Bruce's sleep, you are caring for Batman's rest. When you care about Batman agressive choices, you're caring about Bruce's heart. When you try to understand one side of him, you are also trying to understand the other.

Either way, that will make Bruce care about you. And isn't his whole identity about caring for others? Isn't it what makes him get out of bed every single day? Bruce cares. He deeply, really cares. And if you're on the list of people he loves, then you will be safe. Not matter what it takes.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

111 notes · View notes

imagine--if · 2 years

Note

Headcanon request for Bruce when you’re sick?

A/N: Okay but protective batboy x10000 here 🖤🦇

Pairing: Battinson x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: Overprotective loving Bruce Wayne 😍

•♡ It really doesn’t matter how I’ll you are or how bad you’re feeling; just a cold or a headache, a massive fever, threw up a few times?? One sneeze and there’s literally an ambulance on standby parked outside Wayne Manor. No joke.

•♡ Bruce is just terrified of the idea of one of the only people left in Gotham that he loves getting hurt or sick in any way. Obviously, everyone gets sick now and then, but when it’s you??? His mind’s going don’t panic don’t panic don’t-

•♡ It’s not like he’s unprepared though!! Bruce being The Batman means he has plenty of first aid equipment and a patient Alfred to help stitch him up and get medicines, and he’s more than happy to help you too. Bruce kind of prefers doing it himself and being around you 24/7 to make sure you’re doing okay and are in as little pain as possible.

•♡ Bruce Wayne is an incredibly doting and gentle partner with you in general, so he’ll be just as tender when he’s making sure you’re resting and have, like, the whole week off work with one word from him to your boss. It’s not like you’re gonna struggle finically-

•♡ He’s 100% the type who’s willing to run down to the nearest shop for a specific food or drink that you want but he doesn’t have. Hardly anyone will notice him being Bruce Wayne because of his black hoodie pulled right up over his face and keeping himself to himself and all.

•♡ His voice is so smooth and soft if you want him to read to you or something, or Bruce will lay down with you in a comfortable silence and only break it every few minutes to ask if you’re okay and stuff.

•♡ Not totally related, but he also asks what you’re thinking a lot. Like, what’s on your mind, why are you looking at something like that?? Not at all in a demanding or confused way but more in pure wonder of who you are and wanting to understand you as much as he can because he’s lovestruck 🥺

•♡ Basically, being ill has its many advantages with Bruce because he drops everything to be around you and watches any friend who tries to visit or something so closely, standing near where you are protectively like they’re gonna throw a grenade at you or something 😂

•♡ But in his mind, can you blame him?! He has to be protective!! The love of his life is at their most vulnerable point right now and it’s his job to make up for it 😤

•♡ If being too close and affectionate makes him sick afterwards (it usually does, Bruce likes cuddles 🙃) then you’ll be able to take care of him and Alfred helps out with the typical cycle, it’s very domestic and cute 💕

•♡ Bruce Wayne 10/10 makes being sick worth it.

455 notes · View notes

rebelliousstories · 6 months

Text

Poinsettia

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Selina Kyle x Reader

Fandom: The Batman (2022)

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Mentions of Death and Angst

Word Count: 1,627

Masterlist: Here

Summary: A little Christmas cheer in their dreadful New York apartment.

“Selina! Sel? Where you at girl?” A voice called out as the door to the shabby New York apartment opened and shut behind the figure. She carried something in her gloved hands, but hid it behind her back when the young woman she shared her home with came through. Her cropped hair was wet, indicating it had been freshly washed. Along with that, the smell of soap crept through the apartment from the shower that had happened before she arrived home.

“Hey baby. I’m here. Sorry, I needed a shower. I felt gross after the club.” Selina came over and pressed a small kiss to her lover’s lips. Her hands wrapped around her waist and felt something behind her back.

“What’s behind your back?” She asked directly. Her girlfriend looked away impishly but refused to offer a response.

“It’s nothing.” She drawled out. Selina leveled a look at her partner and soon retracted her hands to look her more directly in the face.

“Babe?” Selina asked yet again, staring her dead in the eye.

“It’s your Christmas present, okay? Just, let’s go to bed and promise me you won’t look under the tree?” She pleaded and stepped closer to her girlfriend yet again. Selina did not move away, but did cross her arms as her lover tried to be sweet on her. It took several minutes of big eyes, and a smile before Selina relented.

“Fine. I won’t look. But you better hurry up.” She pressed a loving kiss to her girlfriend’s lips, and walked away. The woman, still standing with her hands behind her back, watched her girlfriend’s hips sway as she walked away. She brought her hands back around the front of her body as she walked over to their tree. There were only a few gifts underneath the tree, but that was okay. They did not need much, just each other. She set the big box down behind the other gifts almost out of view, before she stood back up. Her outer layer was shed before she left the living room; her scarf, gloves, and coat were placed on the couch before making her way to the bedroom.

When she got in there, Selina was already reclining on the bed beneath the covers. She held something in her hands, something that her partner recognized immediately. The only remaining picture of her and her mother that Selina held in her possession. Often times, their nights would end with her pulling the picture out of Selina’s hands after she had fallen asleep to keep it from getting lost or damaged. It comforted the woman to hold it; the last remaining thread of innocence she had left. No words were spoken as the other woman got ready for bed. Cleaning her face, brushing her teeth, covering her hair, all of it was done with speed and accuracy you only get from doing the same routine for years and years. Eventually, she climbed into bed with her lover and pulled her into her chest. Selina’s hands still held the photo as she laid her head down on her girlfriend’s chest.

“Your mom would be proud of the woman you have become.” She whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. Selina continued to stroke over her mother’s face in the photo, but her eyes were drawn to something in the corner. A brilliant splotch of red and green were in the corner.

“Did I ever tell you about this photo?” Selina asked, sounding very far away in her own head. She had, in fact, told her lover the story behind this particular photo. But that was not going to stop her from encouraging Selina to tell it again.

“Tell me.” She whispered, pressing another kiss to the head on her chest.

“When I was a kid, my mom couldn’t afford to do a big Christmas. But she would take me to the heart of the city to look at the lights. The one thing we got every year, from the same vendor, was a poinsettia plant. They would sell it to us for a fraction of what they were originally selling it for because they knew my mom. After she died, I never went back. I couldn’t without her.” Her voice trailed off, still lost in her own world as she remembered the snow filled nights where she went into the city to get those plants. Selina felt another kiss placed to her hair, and her lover’s hands rubbing up and down on her arms to soothe her.

Her lover stared at little Selina in the photo and smiled to herself. But her lover’s breathing slowed and eventually Selina was fast asleep. Her body went limp, and the photo dropped on her girlfriend’s stomach. She picked it up and stared for a moment longer, before placing it on her nightstand to protect the picture, turned out the lights, and went to sleep.

Snow filled the air when the couple awoke Christmas Day. They stretched and laid in the warm bed as they tried to wake up. However, with the day off, neither one cared too much about getting started on their day at a reasonable time.

“Merry Christmas, Sel.” She whispered to the woman that was now face to face with her on their sides in bed.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” She replied, laying a kiss upon her lover’s lips. Selina laid there for a moment more before she pulled away, and got out of the bed to head into the bathroom. She began to brush her teeth when her girlfriend came and hugged her from behind.

“My morning breath really that bad, huh?” She joked as she began to brush her own teeth. Selina chuckled lightly, trying desperately not to choke on the toothpaste in her mouth at her lover’s comment.

Once they were both done, a quick breakfast was had of a couple sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but it was enough for the couple on their budget. They made their way to the couch, where she had to move her outerwear from the previous night, and laid down on the couch. The radio in the corner of the room was on a station that played Christmas songs non-stop, which provided some noise for the couple to have in the background. They watched out the window for a while, just enjoying their time together. But eventually, Selina got curious about the large box that was tucked near the wall behind the tree with the rest of the presents.

“Can we open them now?” She asked her girlfriend, turning in her arms to look her in the eyes. When she nodded, Selina excitedly got up and immediately went to the large box behind the tree.

“Wait!” Selina stopped at her lover’s exclamation. She looked like a little kid with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Just, save that one till the end? Please. Trust me.” She explained, and while Selina was upset to not find out what her lover brought home last night, she relented. They spent a considerable time opening the gifts from one another. Their gifts were usually practical, but there were a couple that were pure wants rather than needs. A new wig, a refill on Selina’s favorite perfume, and a beautiful leather skirt graced Selina’s hands but she was itching to go look at the present behind the tree. Seeing her lover’s eyes drift over, she gave Selina a nod to go to the mystery present.

She got excited and ran over to grab the present. Placing it in front of her on the floor, Selina tore into it like a little kid. This was much bigger than their usual presents to each other, which got her curious. She tore off the wrapping paper and used a nearby knife to open the tape that closed the box before her. When she opened the flaps, however, she stopped. The smile fell off of her face, and her hands froze. Her lover sat on the couch, watching her from a distance with a tense stance. She was no sure how she would react, but this was making her nervous. Selina reached her shaky hands into the box and pulled out what was inside. A poinsettia plant with a very specific tag attached to it. The tag of the business she used to get it from as a child. She was at a loss for words as she looked towards her girlfriend on the couch with watery eyes. Without saying anything, her lover took over.

“I thought it might make you happy. It wasn’t difficult to find the business. And when I mentioned the Kyle girl was who I was getting it for, they were really excited to hand it off. Said they wanted me to bring you by at some point.” She explained gently. Selina wept as her hands traced the petals delicately, but she still said nothing. In a flash, the plant was set gently on the ground, and she had found a place in her girlfriend’s lap. She kept pressing kiss after kiss to her, cradling her face in her hands. Finally, coming up for air, Selina spoke for the first time since she opened the box.

“Thank you.” She whispered. Repeating her thanks, she kissed every inch of exposed skin in between her words. Her lover rested her hands on Selina’s waist and allowed her to do what she needed without impediment.

“You’re welcome.” Her girlfriend finally replied.

And there they sat. Selina perched in her girlfriend’s lap, pressing kisses and sweet words of endearment and thanks to her. And her girlfriend, happy to be able to bring just a little bit of happiness and light to their gloomy apartment in an equally gloomy city.

#rebelliousstories #writing #25 days of ficmas #25 days of christmas #ficmas 2023 #christmas imagine #the batman imagine #the batman #selina kyle x reader #selina kyle imagine #selina kyle #catwoman imagine #catwoman

24 notes · View notes

starfirette · 1 year

Note

LOVED living a lie! I need to see a part two where reader finally has the family she’s always wanted with someone else and Bruce is forced to watch through pictures she sends Alfred who shows Bruce. Kind of based on that Taylor swift song Last Kiss. I want the angst to leave me heartbroken. If you can’t and you have something else in mind that is totally fine 😊

He was a lonely, little boy, waiting for his schoolyard playmate to return

♥️I don't even know what to say other than this is at least five months overdue 😶 welcome to the renaissance...?

♥️part two of Living A Lie | masterlist | requests CLOSED | I will never apologize for Tom Welling! Clark Kent being the only valid Clark Kent 🥹 but I guess technically it can be whatever Clark Kent you want; this post was queued at 1:30 because Star is a dumbass and doesn't ever sleep even when she had class!!!!! EDIT: I just reread the first part. Bruce and Y/n were engaged 😶not married. So I'm going to make a quick edit to the first chapter and if you remember that mistake, no you don't

Mr Pennyworth was a former MI agent, and this fact might have attested for him being a remarkable liar.

Even to Master Bruce.

It was easy to say that he wasn't sure what Mistress Y/n was up to when Bruce mustered up the courage to ask, his shoulders rounded at the edges like the worn cover of a hardback book. But hardback books were typically worn because they were loved; Bruce was worn because he had no love.

The divorce had been finalized for at least an entire year, now. The state of Illinois requires that a couple has irreconcilable differences before divorcing, and any couple who has been separated for at least six months already is assumed to be in the daunting face of irreconcilable differences. The easy part about this was that Mistress Y/n could say that she wanted children and Master Bruce didn't: that was a difference that was irreconcilable by nature. Pepper in the fact that she had caught him in a compromising position and she had been granted her divorce exactly nine months and seven days after she'd left the gala in tears with the vague feeling her whole world on the verge of collapse.

Mr Pennyworth was a liar because he knew what Mistress Y/n was up to-and he didn't call her Mistress anymore. He called her Y/n, or Miss, because some things never change.

While Bruce had always been like the dark side of the moon, Y/n had been transformed into the sun. She'd gained weight: her face was plump and her tummy had rounded out.

Her eyes were alight with a new regard for life.

And her hand was typically intertwined with a man's. One man.

He was taller than Bruce; perhaps his shoulders were somewhat wider, and his eyes a starkly deeper blue. His hair was curly and dark, and he regarded you with a love so strong it made even Alfred’s heart sing.

So, Mr Pennyworth was a liar because he knew exactly what “Mistress Y/n” was up to. She was celebrating with her friends the unexpected pregnancy she'd tested positive for after two years, eight months, and twelve days.

There was nothing bittersweet about it. Alfred loved Bruce deeply, like his own child, but he could see where Bruce had greatly fumbled the ball.

No, there was nothing bittersweet about this pregnancy.

Alfred had been aware of everything Y/n was up to because she stayed in contact with him. Sometimes the two met for lunch in Star City. He was family to her and she didn't have much of that, so how could he break such ties for Master Bruce’s sake? He couldn't. That's how.

Even though he loved Bruce so dearly-like his own flesh and blood!-he wouldn't resign himself to forfeiting a relationship with a dear friend.

If he loved Bruce like a son, then Y/n was certainly his daughter.

He knew that Y/n was shocked at the sudden pregnancy. He knew that she had been frightened at first-too frightened to tell her boyfriend. She had gone to Alfred first, afterall. She was on the cusp of tears; she tried so hard to stay composed on the line.

Like a father would, Alfred had calmed Y/n down; soothed her, gave her encouragement, and convinced her to tell her boyfriend.

The man in question was over the moon with happiness. Not that Alfred had any doubts in the matter. He had suspected the man in question would be rather happy.

It was just a few days later that Y/n informed Alfred she was now engaged, just for tradition’s sake.

There was a lovely little engagement party, and then a small, Metropolis courthouse wedding ceremony where Alfred had been Y/n’s witness. She wore a lovely, knee length white dress with a net wedding veil. She wore baby blue, wrist length velvet gloves, which had actually belonged to Alfred’s late wife. That was her something borrowed and something blue.

The groom bore a stunning black suit, with his curly hair swept back and a pair of thick, black glasses sitting on his nose.

Y/n had briefly been an L/n once more, but she looked her happiest when she was officially declared a Kent. It didn't seem to matter that the wedding was rushed. Alfred had a suspicion that this engagement had been a one sided plan for a few months, now; judging from the way Clark had heartily shaken hands with Alfred while sweating up and down to keep her happy , Alfred could just tell that he'd been planning this for a little while longer than he was letting on. From the calculated respect you both regarded the other with, to the mutual love and adoration, it was easy to see that you had found your true love.

Upon the conclusion of the ceremony, the wedding party loitered on the courthouse steps with the groom conversing happily with his witness while Y/n and her own did the same.

“Won't you stay a little while?” Y/n asked Alfred. She had plucked the hair pins out of her head, removing the net veil and moving her hair back into standard position. “I miss you.”

Alfred kissed the top of Y/n’s head.

She didn't know that he missed her, too; very greatly. Alfred would never tell her that her presence in the manor had always been reassuring. She had been, for lack of a better term, his security blanket. She had kept Bruce happy and well grounded. Alfred had unfortunately become dependent on her for that sense of ease.

Guilt often chewed him away for this.

Bruce’s well-being was pinned on her for a long time, and now that she was gone? Alfred worried for his master.

However, that isn't the only reason he misses seeing you prance happily around like a child in big girl clothes.

Truth be told, Alfred tended to see children when he looked at both you and Bruce. A little girl with her boy, dragging him around and playing happily while he pretended he didn't like it--but he actually did.

Where had the time gone?

Looking at you now, in your vintage wedding gown on the steps of the courthouse, he sees a child still. So wide eyed and happy spirited. You'd always be this way. Always.

“I miss you, too,” Alfred told her. “I'm never far away. Is a forty five minute drive too much for you to bear?”

Y/n rolled her eyes with faux contempt. “I suppose not. But it's forty five minutes both ways! Oh.” She started to pull the gloves off by the fingers when she remembered them.

Alfred stopped her. “Keep them,” he implored her. “I want one of my children to have family heirlooms.”

Struck by sudden emotion, Y/n’s smile fell into a quivering pucker of lips as she hugged Alfred tight. “I love you.”

Alfred kissed her hair one more time. “I love you, too.”

Mr Pennyworth would lie that evening when he returned home. Given that he'd been asleep all day, Master Bruce was none the wiser of Alfred’s trip to the city.

Home was home, still.

The manor was the same as it had always been and likely always would be.

He trekked up the staircase to awaken his master-the one child he still had to worry about.

“Long day, Alfred?” Bruce asked in a thick, tired voice as he slowly peeled out of his bed. His torso was beaten; ghastly swollen and painted with thick, scabbed over gashes.

Mr Pennyworth helped Bruce into a button down shirt.

“Not at all, sir,” Mr Pennyworth said. “Mistress Al Ghul has left a message for you, sir, something regarding the usual issue. Shall I call her?”

Bruce waved a hand. “No,” he groaned. “I’ll…do something. Any other messages?”

“None, sir.”

“None?”

“You heard me correctly, sir. Shall I prepare a meal?”

“Breakfast sounds lovely.”

“Does dinner for a human qualify as breakfast for a bat, sir?” Mr Pennyworth quipped.

“I should think so,” Bruce muttered.

“Very well,” Mr Pennyworth confirmed with a nod. He made a turn out of the room before glancing back to Bruce to ask one more question.

A little boy with weary eyes and an oversized shirt hunched his shoulders. "When will Y/n come back to play?” the boy asked in a soft voice.

Mr Pennyworth’s earlier question was long forgotten as his mouth went dry. “...Pardon me, sir?” Mr Pennyworth said as he feigned absence of a belly ache.

It took only a blink for Alfred to see Bruce's tre self: grown and hunched at the shoulders, buttoning up his shirt as he tried to appear neutral. “Have you heard from Y/n recently?” Bruce repeated.

Mr Pennyworth weighed his options in half a second. Y/bwouldn't be angry for Bruce to know the truth-it wasn't Y/n's sake he was keeping things a secret for, however. Unlike Bruce, Y/n was understanding. She would have been just fine to know what Bruce had been up to. But Bruce was rash. He was quick to judge, whether in others or on himself. It's that reason that Mr Pennyworth suavely replied, "I have not, sir. Did you require anything else?”

Defeat echoed in Bruce's eyes. “That's all,” he said.

He was a lonely, little boy, waiting for his schoolyard playmate to return and drag him around. But she never would.

That's one thing Alfred would never lie about.

#clark kent x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman x reader #the Batman imagine #Superman x reader #Smallville #?#how the fuck do I tag this?!#i wish queue well #bruce wayne imagine #dceu imagines #dceu x reader #dc x reader #dc imagines #requested!#starfirette renaissance #starfirette writes

346 notes · View notes

hollandorks · 2 years

Text

shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter twenty

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: yay I got to post more than once in a week! I actually have the next two chapters written, and most of the epilogue--we’re in the home stretch now!

Series Masterlist

word count: 4685

Time to fuck shit up, she thought to herself. And then she struck.

The first bit of flood water was trickling in when y/n kicked out at the man nearest to her, which just so happened to be the man whose nose she’d already broken. He was in the process of clipping himself into some sort of harness connected to all of the supports and rigging. He hadn’t quite managed to fasten it when both her feet, still bound at the ankles, smashed into the backs of his knees.

Eyes wide with fear behind his glasses, the man was knocked off balance and wavered right at the edge as a voice came over the loudspeakers.

“Everyone, everyone, if I could just get your attention.” It was the new mayor, Bella Reál. “Please! I just need your attention!”

As soon as the words echoed into silence, the man tipped all the way backwards and fell over the side.

I think I just killed that guy, y/n thought distantly as screams erupted below her. Several of the men around her panicked for a split second, and then a shot rang out. Y/n rolled closer to the edge just in time to see the new mayor go down. She cursed around the gag in her mouth.

A familiar figure darted forward and dragged Bella Reál out of harm’s way as more shots exploded all around her. Gordon.

Y/n reached up and yanked her gag out and rolled onto her back. Not a moment too soon–another of the Riddler’s followers had aimed the butt of his rifle right where her head had been a second before. The blow would have knocked her out at best or over the side to her death at worst. The rifle clanged against the metal so loudly it jolted her. She instinctively rolled even farther out of the way.

The man narrowed his eyes and aimed the barrel of the rifle at her.

He was going to kill her.

She stared up at him, breath trembling, and waited for the shot.

A series of explosions rocketed across the supports of the domed glass above them, flames lighting the night for a brief moment as glass shattered. In the midst of the flames and glass was a dark shadow with wings.

Y/n’s mind flashed to another night, another explosion, another time his cape had been blown open wide like wings.

She covered her head as best she could with bound arms and curled into a small ball to avoid the glass. Even as she did, she laughed almost hysterically. The relief that poured through her was so great it would have sent her to her knees if she hadn’t already been down.

The glass stopped raining from above. There were more shouts and gunshots, the sounds of chaos piercing the air.

Y/n struggled into a seated position. The man who’d been about to shoot her was laying on his back, groaning as blood trickled out from gashes in his mask. She winced at the sight but quickly kicked his rifle away then snatched at the pistol holstered at his hip. There was a bit of pain at her back from the shards of glass, but somehow she’d managed to avoid the worst of it.

Above her, Bruce swung through the air with his grappling hooks attached to two of the masked men. For some reason she again remembered that night–the night Marie had died, the first time she and Bruce had truly fought together.

She sucked in a sharp breath around the pain of the memory and aimed the gun at one of the men shooting at Bruce. The shot hit the man in the thigh and he went down. Bruce’s rules kept her from using guns as much, but she still made sure to stay in practice. The tunnels beneath the manor made for an excellent shooting range.

Bruce was darting around the metal walkways a couple of levels above where she was. She took another shot as he grabbed for one of the huge metal support beams and slid down it to the level she was on.

His eyes met hers for just a moment. Even from so far away, she saw the relief on his face.

She noticed the man behind him just in time to shout, “Move!”

Bruce reacted instantly, rolling out of the way of the shot and tackling the man at the knees with one smooth motion. Heart in her throat, y/n imagined Bruce going all the way over the side and down into the crazed crowd below. But that didn’t happen–he merely leapt back onto his feet and took off, heading towards her. She saw him take a shot to the back like it was nothing, fighting his way towards her as if his life depended on it. As if her life depended on it.

She really needed to get out of the ropes binding her, she thought.

As if her silent plea had been heard, a familiar form materialized next to her, dropping down from above onto one of the men’s backs. The man went over, swinging wildly from the harness he was attached to.

“Hey,” Selina said casually, as if they met all the time surrounded by crazy masked men intent on killing them.

“Selina!” y/n said, no small amount of relief in her voice. “How–”

“Here–” Selina started to untie the ropes at y/n’s, but stopped as three more masked men converged on them.

“How many of these fucking guys are there?” y/n muttered as she took another one out with a shot to the leg. It went wide, though, and hit him in the abdomen. He toppled over the edge, swinging from the wires he was attached to, as Selina aimed kicks at the other two men. She moved fluidly, like a dancer, the sight almost hypnotizing y/n for a moment.

Then Bruce was there, his blue eyes wide with panic as he dropped to his knees before her.

Y/n formed his name on her lips, so relieved to see him that she almost said it out loud. Bruce cupped her face and took a deep, steadying breath for a split second before refocusing on her bound ankles and wrists. .

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears suddenly burning her eyes. “I texted you and then he knocked me out and took my phone and I didn’t know–”

Bruce caught the barrel of a gun without looking, using the momentum to shove another masked man over the edge of the platform.

“It’s okay,” he said. He hesitated, tugging at the knots of the ropes binding her ankles and wrists, but they were too tight. He bit back a curse. His hand lifted, and everything around y/n seemed to slow as he took out the bat-shaped blade at his chest.

It had been more than a year since the gala. More than a year of loving Bruce, of being with him, of making herself touch the blade that had almost killed her over and over in order to desensitize herself to it. She had often snuck it off of the suit for a while, hands shaking, because she knew the blade held no power, knew that Bruce had never intended to use it on her, knew that she shouldn’t still be scared of it when it wasn’t his fault, had never been his fault.

And still she flinched.

Bruce paused, the world around them going quiet.

Y/n snapped her eyes up to his face, nodding her head quickly. “It’s okay, it’s fine, it’s fine,” she said hurriedly even as her voice shook. Bruce’s expression was tormented, pure anguish lighting up his blue eyes and tensing the line of his jaw. “Just do it,” she said and squeezed her eyes shut.

A soft noise, and then her hands and feet were free and Bruce was tugging her to her up on her feet.

She opened her eyes in time to see another barrel of a gun pointed right at her chest.

Faster than a blink, Bruce was in front of her, the force of the blast to his chest knocking him back a step. And then he was roaring as he ran towards the guy who’d taken the shot. He tackled him by the waist and used the momentum to swing down below them to a bigger platform. That platform was actually the top of the centerpiece of the stadium–a huge digital sign that currently showed Bella Reál's face in three hundred and sixty degrees of LED screens.

There were even more men down there, and all of them were suddenly focused on Bruce. In front of her, on a walkway, Selina grappled with another man, her long nails whipping across his face like claws.

Bruce needed help and needed it immediately.

But y/n was still holding a gun. She slid onto her stomach to use the metal beneath her to steady her aim. She could do this, at least. She could buy him some time, provide a distraction.

She took a breath, and fired twice in quick succession. The first shot hit a man in the shoulder. The second missed altogether.

Two more men grabbed Bruce by the cape and dragged him towards the other end of the platform.

Y/n cursed. She might hit Bruce from this far away, and she wasn’t the best with moving targets. But Bruce freed himself in the next moment and stepped out of the way as two men on either side of him shot in quick succession.

“Fuck!” she shouted as one of the wire supports on the platform snapped and the whole thing tilted.

Y/n scrambled for a way down there, a way to help Bruce up. The floor way, way below them was slowly filling with water and more and more people as they fled inside. If Bruce fell from that high, there wasn’t enough water to break the fall. He would probably break his neck or back or skull and–

There was a small explosion right as y/n started down a ladder. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see smoke of some sort completely cover the platform, hiding Bruce from her sight.

She really hoped Bruce had done that on purpose.

She froze on the ladder, wavering as she tried to figure out what to do. She looked up and locked eyes with Selina, who was standing next to an unconscious man, her chest heaving. She nodded once at y/n, then disappeared from view as she turned and ran the other way.

There were shadows moving in the smoke now, shouts of alarm, gunshots.

Fuck it, she thought, and descended the rest of the way. Her feet hit the next walkway down. The smoke was already clearing. She felt no small amount of relief when she saw Bruce was fine and still fighting.

Y/n knelt and aimed at the man closest to her. He was between her and Bruce, his rifle coming up to his shoulder as he aimed for Bruce’s back.

She fired twice. One shot hit him in the leg, but then the gun clicked. It was enough to send the man down though, his gun disappearing over the ledge and into the churning water below.

Y/n felt rather than heard the man come up behind her. She whirled and chucked the now-empty pistol at his head. It bounced off with a loud clack and stunned him enough that she could kick his legs out from underneath him. Over he went, the harness catching him like it had so many others.

She turned back towards Bruce right as another shot went off. The shot caught him straight in the chest, point blank.

Bruce went over the edge.

Y/n screamed and ran.

No! she thought desperately. She didn’t know if the water was high enough and–

And the man who’d just shot him was on his feet, gun aiming for Bruce’s head.

A primal sound of rage tore from y/n’s throat as she abandoned all reason and launched herself at the man who was trying to kill Bruce.

She tackled him, hitting the metal walkway hard, her teeth jarring even with the masked man as a shield from the worst of it. She punched him in the face twice, her rage making her hits powerful and sure. He went limp.

Y/n wasted no time and scrambled for Bruce, who was hanging on with just the fingertips of one hand.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she gasped as she wrapped her hands around his wrist and yanked.

Bruce groaned in pain. God, he was so heavy. Y/n vision blurred as she pulled and pulled and pulled. Then Selina was beside her, and it was so much easier between the two of them to haul Bruce up between them. As soon as he was flat on his back on the walkway, Bruce went limp, unconsciousness finally pulling him all the way under.

Y/n gasped, arms trembling, the rage leaving her as she met Selina’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, not caring that all of her fear and worry and love for him was leaking out all around the edges of those two words.

Selina nodded and looked around. There were no more masked men left standing. There was still chaos and panic below, but up there in the rafters, it was finally quieting down.

Selina stood. “See ya around,” she said with a slight tremble. She winked, and walked away, leaving y/n alone with Bruce.

She huddled over him and laid her head on his chest. He was still breathing, thank God. She took a deep, trembling breath and steadied herself. Her fingers pushed at the plates of armor at his chest, sides, and abdomen, searching for blood. She didn’t see any. Tentative relief bloomed within her.

The worst was over. They had done it.

Bruce suddenly jerked awake, groaning again in pain, his eyes wild with fear.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” y/n said, touching her bare fingers to his cheek where he could feel it. Bruce’s eyes met hers, and he settled. “We did it. Somehow.” She let out a small laugh that sounded a little hysterical. “It’s over.”

Bruce relaxed as her fingers stroked the stubble on his cheek. God, she wanted to kiss him. But she held back, just in case anyone saw.

“We have to–” she started to say, but white hot pain exploded against the back of her head. Something grabbed her ankle and pulled. Her body dragged down Bruce’s armor and over the metal walkway. She could barely see over the pain, but she struggled fiercely, her foot connecting with something solid. Bruce was already reaching for her, but he was too hurt, too out of it.

Y/n curled her fingers into claws like she’d seen Selina do and made a swipe at what was hopefully her assailant’s face. Something snagged under her nails, hot and sticky, and she knew she connected with at least some skin even as the man yelled and more pain blazed across her ribcage.

She glanced up right as Bruce came roaring towards them. He hauled the man off of her, his fists flying so fast she could hardly see them. He hit the man again and again and again and again. A primitive sound was tearing from his throat, all animal, its edges shrouded in pure rage.

Her lips formed his name again, but no sound came out around the pain in her head. Bruce didn’t hear her.

Then another voice joined the fray, shouting, “Hey, hey! Take it easy!”

Gordon. He pulled y/n up to her feet with one arm and passed her off to an officer as he reached for Bruce with the other.

Bruce whirled, fists raised, growling low in his throat. He was all animal, something primal within him lining him in shadows. He relaxed marginally when he recognized Gordon. Gordon seemed to sense what was happening within Bruce, his hands raised, his tone gentle as he spoke.

Bruce’s breaths heaved out of him, each pant harsh and edged with pain. His eyes glanced wildly around until he saw y/n, an officer’s arm around her as she winced with pain. Seeing that she was safe, Bruce finally settled even further.

The world spun ever so slightly beneath her feet. Two head wounds and being drugged all in the same night probably was not a good combination, she thought hazily, even as her eyes searched all over Bruce for obvious signs of injury.

Bruce stepped around Gordon towards her. He reached for her, then seemed to realize they were surrounded.

“Thanks for saving my ass,” she said lightly. But with her eyes she said, I love you, I’m glad you’re okay, that I’m okay, I love you.

“Who the hell are you?” Gordon said to the man on the ground as he yanked off his mask.

“Me?” the man said, voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it. “I’m vengeance.”

Everyone went still at the familiar phrase.

Y/n snorted. Heads all around whipped towards her. “See?” she said to Bruce. “I told you it sounded stupid.”

Bruce sighed, but some of the tightness from his jaw eased.

There was a sudden violent crash from below them. They all rushed to the side of the railing and watched in horror as the glass doors at the front of the stadium came crashing in on a huge wave of water. Cars, signs, dumpsters, everything imaginable came washing in on that wave.

The sounds of panic below them reached a fever pitch.

The stage that had been set up for the event went caving in under the force of the water. The lights across the top crackled with electricity as the water took down everything in its path.

Bruce’s hand rested on y/n’s back for just a moment, the touch so light she might have missed it. She looked up to find him already looking at her. He glanced at something behind her, and then murmured, for her ears only, “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t have time to think, let alone speak, before he launched himself over the railing, used his grappling hook to swing across the open space, and grabbed onto the giant wire that was sparking everywhere. It crackled with electricity.

“No!” y/n cried out as the officers and Gordon all gathered around her.

Bruce popped out the blade on his chest and met her eyes.

Then, with a swipe, the wire was cut, and Bruce went plummeting down, down, down into the water. Y/n didn’t miss the arcs of blue electricity sparking over his suit.

She screamed, leaning so far over the railing that Gordon cursed and hauled her back by her belt.

“Let me go!” she growled as she struggled away from him.

She couldn’t catch a fucking break, could she?

“Y/n–” Gordon said even as he let her go. She blinked against the sudden onslaught of tears, leaning over the railing again as she peered through the flickering lights to the turbulent water below. There was no sign of Bruce.

She didn’t give it another thought. She wasn’t going to let that self-sacrificing jackass die, not after everything they’d already survived, not when they were so close to the end.

Y/n swung her legs over the railing, took a deep breath, and jumped.

Gordon shouted after her as she fell. The air went screaming past her, so fast it stole the breath she’d taken just before her jump. And then she hit the water, so hard her bones jolted.

Everything went dark for a second.

And then there was a strong grip on her arm. Up, up, up she went, the water freezing, until her head broke the surface and she inhaled with a wild gasp.

“What are you doing?” Bruce growled as if she was the only one making insane jumps into floodwaters.

“I thought you were dead, you asshole,” she shouted back, smacking her fists against his chest. He winced and sucked in a breath. She remembered, too late, that he’d been shot point blank in the chest earlier. “Fuck–Sorry–”

“What–”

“I came to help,” she said stubbornly. She could actually almost stand in the water, though it was still rising and still freezing as hell. “God, I can’t believe you aren’t dead. I can’t believe I didn’t hit my head on anything. Fuck.”

Bruce stared down at her. He looked so shocked to see her in the water next to him that she couldn’t help but laugh. Even as he stared, he took a flare from who-knew-where and struck it, lighting the air around them red with its flames. Shadows flickered across his face.

She sobered as another scream tore through the air around them. “Sorry, I didn’t–I saw it shock you and I thought–”

Bruce softened a little. “The suit protected me,” he said.

“I had to be sure,” she said. She ached to hold him, to touch him, to get him out of the suit so she could see how hurt he really was. But there were still people that needed help, all around them, the entire city flooding. “Now give me a fucking flare so we can get this done.”

He almost smiled at her, almost. And then he struck another flare and handed it to her.

Together with their twin flames, they waded toward the remains of the stage, all of that heavy metal warped and twisted by the tidal wave that had come ripping through. Hands poked up out of various places, people calling for help as soon as they caught sight of the flares.

Bruce pulled on pieces of the supports to make a way out.

There, trapped beneath, were dozens of people. Y/n’s heart stuttered. As dumb as Bruce’s little stunt had been, these people would likely have remained trapped until they’d drowned if he hadn’t come down.

They all stared up at Bruce’s imposing figure with fear and awe.

A little boy grabbed Bruce’s hand first, breaking the ice and jolting everyone else into movement. Bruce hauled him up and over and passed him to y/n.

“Hey,” she said, recognizing the boy. “Remember me?”

The boy peered up at her. He was shaking. Some of those tremors eased when he saw her. “Mrs. Wayne?” he said in a small voice as more and more people were helped by Bruce out of the wreckage of the stage.

She grinned as the boy’s mother came up behind them in the water. “Not yet, but soon. I think I’m going to get married as soon as the courthouse opens up, after all of this.” In front of her, Bruce tensed a little even as he continued helping. He glanced over his shoulder at her, just slightly, enough for her to know he’d heard. Was that another almost smile?

The woman–Mrs. Mitchell–glanced at her in surprise before she, too, recognized her. “I don’t blame you,” the woman said as she helped the next woman get out of the warped metal. “These days you never know what’s going to happen.” There was a wistful note in her voice. Y/n got the boy to get on her back as they helped more people. Even the new mayor Bella Reál was there. Her abdomen was bleeding still, hastily bandaged, but she was alive.

“Yeah, you never know if a psychopath is going to try to kill you, drown the city, or shoot at everyone,” y/n said a little cheerfully. She patted the boy’s arms around her neck. “Good thing Batman’s around,” she said, low enough for only the boy to hear.

Together, she and Bruce led the people safely through the wreckage, helping more of the trapped and injured as they went. They made it to the stairs, able to get to higher ground where some first responders were waiting.

High above them, Gordon and other police officers had rounded up the Riddler’s men and were securing them.

Everyone was being ushered to the roof as the waters continued to rise.

The boy grabbed y/n’s hand tightly with one hand and his mother’s with the other. He was strong for a kid, and her fingers ached.

But one person wasn’t following.

She managed to extricate herself from the death grip on her hand and lurched forward just in time to snatch a corner of Bruce’s wet cape.

He jerked to a halt.

“I told you so,” she blurted when he turned towards her, though that hadn’t been what she’d intended to say at all. She could tell he was raising his eyebrows at her even with the mask obscuring them. “No capes,” she said. “Remember? The Incredibles?”

And there, finally, was a true smile. Bruce hummed. She could feel eyes on them all around as people poured past, headed for the safety of the stadium’s roof.

“Where are you going?” she asked in a whisper. Her head ached and she felt unsteady on her feet. And, if she was being honest, she was pretty sure she was concussed because she felt seconds away from vomiting even though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. That, or she’d inhaled nasty seawater which was likely laced with Gotham’s sewage. The thought only made her stomach turn more.

“I’m going to make sure we get everyone out.” His voice was soft, but edged with hard gravel from exhaustion and pain and the remnants of adrenaline.

“I’m coming–” y/n said as she stepped forward, but the ground chose that moment to lurch beneath her and she almost went down. Bruce caught her forearms.

Nobody else seemed to notice the sudden movement of the ground.

Damn, maybe she was concussed.

“You need to go up to the roof and get medical attention,” Bruce said. That edge of gravel in his voice turned sharper, harder. His blue eyes were bloodshot and worried.

“No, I need to stay with you–” Her voice was pitifully small. But she couldn’t leave him. Not now, not after everything. “Please,” she said in a choked whisper, because her head really did hurt, and she just wanted him to crawl into bed with her, safe and warm and happy.

“I’ll come for you soon,” he said softly. His gloved fingers gripped her forearms and oh, how she wished his hands were bare so she could at least feel his touch since she couldn’t kiss him with so many witnesses around. “I promise. I’m just going to help Gordon and the others and check for survivors, then I’ll come up before they start evacuating.”

Y/n closed her eyes and forced the tears back. “Okay,” she finally said. She opened her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, so quiet it was barely a breath.

“I love you,” he said back, just as quietly.

“Be careful,” she said. “If I could help–”

Bruce softened a little more, for her eyes only. “I know,” he said. He squeezed her arms, and then he strode towards where Gordon was watching and waiting to organize the relief efforts.

A small, cold hand slipped into hers. She glanced down in surprise at the mayor’s son, whose name she still didn’t know, who merely blinked up at her and said, “Your head is bleeding.”

The boy led her up to the roof, where dawn was breaking.

Y/n heard the words “minimal casualties from the shooting,” as a paramedic came to check her out at Mrs. Mitchell’s insistence.

Relief washed over her.

Things were far from over, but they had done it.

The Riddler was in jail.

Falcone was dead.

The masked men had been stopped.

They had kept things from being as bad as they could be, even though Gotham still had a long, long way to go.

They had survived the night.

As the sun slipped and spilled over the horizon, y/n took her first deep breath in days.

They had done it.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts @cat-purrsonified @blue-aconite @junggoku @ohheyitsrowan @angxlictexrs @avengersgirllorianna @brynhildrmimi @takeyour-pants-off @twilightdollie @p-writes @lady-x-red @xingqiusliegee @scxrletwitches @justine-en @philiasoul @srryxmate @thecherrybombcom @minstens @blossomedfloweroflove @zaminoo

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #the batman x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #battinson imagine #the batman imagine #battinson fic #the batman fic #the batman #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne #battinson #robert pattinson #sitn #shadows in the night

188 notes · View notes

sweetums0kitty · 1 year

Text

Mask Maketh The Man

Another Sav fic so soon?! What is this productivity? Anyway! This is another request from my good pal Bunny! @lovesickrobotic I hope you enjoy Bun! <3 Btw my requests are openhttps://www.tumblr.com/sweetums0kitty/717181379533815808/requests-are-open Shoot me an ask!

Warnings: None just pure fluff

He was beautiful, regal, and powerful, so different in his fearsome regalia than when he's just your mild-mannered Edward. He had finally assembled the complete outfit after months of searching Edward was finally the Riddler. "Well… How do I look?" came his modulated voice sending a cold shiver down your spine. His already piercing gaze was heightened by the way the clear frames of his glasses were set over the bridge of the mask. He looked like death, he was an angel of vengeance… Edward was everything. "You're- oh my god, this is really happening!" laughing as you pushed your hair out of your face with a deep sigh. Eddie stepped forward and you instantly stepped back from his hulking form. Arms hanging lamely by his sides he lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck but stopped when he was reminded of the plastic wrap at the back of his skull. "Do I scare you like this?" he insinuated taking a step back with a forlorn tilt of his masked head. quickly you stepped forward attempting to soothe Eddie. "No, no! I'm not… You don't scare me! I'm just worried… What if you get caught?" beginning to pace back and forth in front of where the Riddler stood. He snorted and you turned quickly to glour at the masked man before you. "It's a perfectly valid concern!" Sighing the hot breath fogged the lenses of his mask making Eddie look a bit less fearsome. "C'mere" gesturing for you to come into his long protective arms. Obediently you stepped forward and instantly the warm, comforting presence of Edward enveloped you. Resting your head on his chest you could breathe in the familiar scents of coffee and old paper that made Eddie your Eddie. He was so tenderly soft it was hard to imagine the hands that gently stroked your hair, shushing all the niggling doubts that plagued you could be used for such gruesome violence.

Gently he bent forward hooking leatherbound gloves under your knees and bringing you almost effortlessly (He was a bit out of breath, he did always say he wasn't physically gifted. But for you! An effort was made) to the couch before sitting down with you snugly perched in his warm lap. The old futon groaned under the combined weight but held fast. Sitting curled up in his arms you felt truly safe, like nothing in the hellish streets of Gotham could take you from Edward. Still like a child afraid of the monster under the bed, you needed reassurance. Turning to face Eddie you hesitated to touch his face. Emerald eyes held your gaze and you could just see the way his brows were furloughed with the crinkle of the skin around his eyes. "Angel?" one gloved hand reached up to touch your cheek and instantly it clicked. "Can I touch your mask?" the words flopped from your lips in one undignified lump. "Of course, you can.." a bit incredulous that you would even ask to touch him. Even so, your hands gingerly met the vinal of his mask in an exploratory touch. Ghosting fingers over the shapeless face covering you could feel where his gorgeous nose was encased, down further and there were his cherubic cheeks and down once more and you were brushing over his lips. "See I'm still me, just better." whispering as you worked the hooks of the facial covering off so you could properly hold the reddened cheeks of your beloved. Letting the mask flop between the two of you as you bent forward to press a kiss into the plush petals of his lips. Instantly you melded with Edward. Lips dancing together as you cradled each other's cheeks. Finally pulling away to rest your foreheads together. "You're already amazing Eddie." gently kissing his nose. Snuggled under his chin you felt like renewal could be found within your love.

95 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

Text

"Despicable" - yan!Bruce Wayne x Reader

A/N: currently reviewing my book to send it out AGAIN because apparently, I can't let go

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || Batman-inspired playlist

SUMMARY: While Seline is Bruce's eyes at 44 Below, he spots someone absolutely showstopping. Unfortunately, you're Joker's girl. Bruce is determined to save you from that despicable criminal.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

[TW: yandere themes, explicit language]

Part of Bruce was glad he didn't step foot inside 44 Below. Judging from what Seline was showing him, it was nothing more but a relatively glorified dive bar. It seemed as if corruption could be the sweetest fruit if one simply made it look out of reach or in some way special. It was the pinnacle of human pride and greed to always desire the unattainable.

Despite the supposed prestige of the underground club, he could hardly notice anything out of the ordinary when compared to any other bar one could find in Gotham: young women in skimpy clothing and old, rich men who salivated over them. Drugs. Alcohol. Smuggling. Trafficking. The only visible difference was very superficial - their clothes and jewellery were significantly more expensive. Aside from that one easy-to-overlook detail, 44 Below was exquisite in its lack of exceptionalism.

The swarm of people seemed to be unending. Although the lower level was supposed to be more deluxe, more selective, there was about the same amount of people as on the upper level. Seline was walking through crowds of personalities too important or powerful to want their attention on her. Turning her head in all directions possible, she had nearly given herself whiplash when her stare merely glazed over a figure so brilliant they could hardly be perceived as real; an after-image of a fabulous fantasy:

"Wait, turn around. That woman in a green dress by the bar. Who is she?"

"Fuck no, Bruce," she hissed back at him as she continued marching on. "You know a guy who goes by 'Joker'? The psychopathic mass murderer? That's his girl."

"Look at her," he demanded again. "I need time to scan her face. What do you know about her?" It was a generous half-truth: while he did need time to perform scans, he didn't need yours specifically.

Seline let out a heavy sigh. Reluctantly, she directed her eyes towards you - leaning against a bar, drinking an Old Fashioned, and nibbling on honey-coated roasted cashews. Needless to say, you were completely oblivious to the attention you were getting at the moment. If you could have your way, you wouldn't have been there - 44 Below was an over-glorified workplace for you, waiting for someone who might need a little favour they're willing to repay for.

Bruce's thoughts were running rampant but they lacked coherence. There was a strange feeling in his chest - one he couldn't quite name but it was completely overwhelming and it forced his attention to focus on you. His eyes were eating up your image, his insatiable hunger only grew as he stared at you. The longer he admired your aloof demeanour, the more he was unable to find any flaw in your appearance. It seemed like something taken out of a cliche movie: a diamond found among the filth. How could you have ended up with some lunatic?

You were leaning against the bar counter, bored out of your mind as if you were waiting for someone to show up and get you away from that disgusting place you never quite fit into in the first place. He could be that someone... He wanted to be.

"Ever since Joker got locked up, she's taking care of the business. The whole operation went deep underground and now even the unimportant people wear designer clothes."

"How do you know all that?"

"Penguin's her fan." Seline seemed to not have noticed the lack of emotions in his tone. Bruce wasn't very interested in the criminal part of your life - it will all be left in the past soon enough. "Oh, shit, she noticed me."

Bruce's heart jumped in his chest as if there actually was something that could frighten that man or take him by surprise. Staring at the screen, he met your warm gaze. Words became stuck in his throat, completely awestruck, although you weren't even looking at him per se - you didn't even know about his presence. And he realized he knew no greater frustration.

"Hey, Seline, how are things going on?" you asked. The cheerfulness of your voice seemed genuine. "Haven't seen you working 'round here before."

Dear God, how he began yearning the moment he heard your voice. What darkness and bliss would it bring him to hear you speak his name?

"I'm doing some overtime."

To Bruce's utmost pleasure, you leaned towards Seline. Your face was the only thing on his screen and he truly wished it could stay like that.

"The offer still stands," you whispered. Your eyebrows raised slightly and your eyes had that soft gloss over them. "Give me a call and you'll make a better dollar in better circumstances."

"What offer?" Bruce inquired but Seline ignored him.

"Thank you but I'm still not interested. I'm good."

She promptly turned around and began walking away, her eyes shying away from the bullyboys you brought with you. Rumour had it they didn't need much to happily get involved.

"What offer, Seline?" Bruce repeated. He sounded impatient.

"None of your business," she spat out as she entered the bathroom.

His eyes became bloodshot and dry from staring at the computer for so long. He knew not how many hours had passed and, to be frank, did not care. Nirvana was playing in the background but he barely registered the sounds. None of his attention could be diverted from the picture of your face. Bruce knew perfectly well what he had to do, it was the question of how that kept him up until the early hours of the morning.

The obsessive thoughts inside Bruce's head were too loud to let him hear Alfred come in. "Who's that?"

"Someone important," he answered quietly. For a moment he felt angry that someone else was looking at you but he quickly dismissed that thought as he did with most of his emotions.

It was true but not in the way Alfred understood. Perhaps, Bruce himself did not yet understand the nature of your importance. It was as if he was frantically evacuating and kept asking other people what was going on; smoke was burning his eyes but he did not know the source of the fire.

Seeing as Wayne was even less talkative than normally, Alfred silently left him to continue doing whatever it was that he was doing. Sometimes he got tired of nagging at a grown man.

As it was mentioned before, Bruce knew what he had to do - it was a fact, not a thesis that had to be proved. He was going to save you from that animal you lied to yourself you loved. Bruce had a habit of subduing his feelings, therefore he told himself that it was simply his duty to return your independence to you, completely ignoring the overwhelming yearning that burned throughout his body. He made up his mind that he was going to save you from the filth you'd been stained with, no matter whether you wanted it too. Bruce had seen evil and he was convinced he knew what was best for you.

Oh but Cupid could be a truly despicable beast.

421 notes · View notes

kaleidoscopewritings19 · 1 year

Text

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Title: “Secrets will be told” SERIES PART 3

Part 1

Part 2

-TWO YEARS AFTER THE EVENTS OF PART 2-

Pairing(s): Bruce Wayne (from the show Gotham) and Female reader. BOTH BRUCE AND READER WILL BE 26-28 in this part.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, other than that, none

Summary of series: Bruce Wayne was captivated when he met Y/N, and the feeling was mutual. Dating turned into being engaged and engaged to married. They knew each other’s secrets and told each other everything; they confided in one another. But once Y/N follows Bruce back to Gotham, he begins to change... He becomes secretive, is he having an affair? Y/N needs to find out the truth.

----------------------

The Day after the Wedding

We chose to go to Bora Bora for our honeymoon. Bruce had rented an overwater Bungalow. I haven’t seen him this calm in almost two years; not since he proposed. He has not been calm since Jeremiah Valeska escaped Arkham. Jeremiah has been running loose for two years, and there has not been an encounter with him yet.

But being here, being surrounded by a big body of water and by a literal jungle, he has been at peace. I was lying out enjoying the sunlight, and Bruce was across from me doing push-ups. For the last two years, he has bulked up a lot; he worked out every single day, sometimes twice a day.

I brought down my sunglasses, and I watched the newly formed muscles tighten with every movement. But what caught my attention, was the scars along his spine. I stood up and walked over to where he was, and my fingers gently pressed against the faded red and white colored marks. “Bruce, what happened? When did this happen?” I asked, and he sat up.

“I don’t know years ago, maybe?”

“No, some these are recent. Why do you have scars, Bruce?” I questioned again, and his hand went to my cheek. “Baby, when I do jiu jitsu, and other things like combat training, I tell the guys to not go easy on me. That’s all they’re from.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and helped me up off of the ground. “Do you want to join me for a swim, Mrs. Wayne?” he asked, and I smiled. My heart fluttered at his words, Mrs. Wayne. I was now Mrs. Wayne. He turned to look at me, “What? Oh-- do you like it when I call you Mrs. Wayne?”

Another smile broke across my lips. Bruce pulled me by my hips, and he brought a gentle, yet hungry kiss to my lips. He kissed down to my jaw, and then worked his way to my neck, “You so gorgeous, Mrs. Wayne.”

It wasn’t too long until we were back in the bed again, and I never thought about his scars again. Two full months of honeymoon bliss; being married to Bruce has its perks. He was able to stay away on a vacation for as long as he liked.

---------

-TWO MONTHS AFTER WEDDING AND HONEYMOON-

When we got back home, Bruce became tense all over again. I wasn’t even sure how to begin to help him at this point. He started to become distant and more quiet than usual. Hours were spent at the gym in the mornings and we would pass each other by as I was going out the door for work.

After our honeymoon, things changed-- he began coming home late at night, and then he would disappear in the middle of the night. The first few weeks, I did not really pay any mind to him leaving. But after a month of him leaving our bed at midnight, I decided to follow him.

I waited until he was out of bed for five minutes, and I grabbed my robe and quietly made my way down the stairs. He was not in his study, nor was he anywhere else in the house. All of his cars were parked in the garage, and when I came back inside, I bumped into Alfred.

“Oh, Mrs. Wayne, you are up late.” Alfred said, and my hand went to his shoulder. “Please, call me, Y/N, Alfred. I was looking for Bruce. Do you know where he went?” I asked, and he hesitated.

“Sometimes Bruce has nightmares. Caused by the death of his parents; it still troubles him deeply. Sometimes he will go out for a run to tire himself out.” Alfred rambled, and I sighed.

I whispered a quiet: “Thank you” and made my way to the kitchen. Pouring myself a glass of wine, I waited for Bruce. I was sitting at the kitchen island, and I looked down at my wedding band and engagement ring. Shaking my head, I picked up my cellphone and tried calling Bruce. Each call went to voicemail, and each time he didn’t answer, my heart would drop. But an all too familiar jingle was playing across the room. With the phone to my ear, I walked over to the stove and Bruce’s cellphone was sitting next to it. He left his phone. Why? I hit the “end call” button and slammed it on to the counter. I brought my glass of wine to my lips and took a long drink.

The wine must have been making me emotional, because my thoughts began to wander. Bruce leaving every night at the same time, and not coming back until four or five in the morning. That led to one explanation: Bruce was having an affair. Two months into our marriage, and he wasn’t happy? It didn’t make sense. Was I doing something wrong?

Before I could finish that thought, Bruce crept through the hallway across from the kitchen. I wiped the tears from cheeks, and quietly went into the living room. I did not have the energy to deal with this tonight; I had to find out more before I accuse him of something he may or may not be doing. But I also could not face him tonight, and I grabbed a blanket and laid down on the couch.

When I woke up the next morning, my head was throbbing, and I was back in our master bedroom. Bruce was buttoning up his shirt, and when caught glimpse of me in the mirror, he smiled. “Good morning, babe. I put some Tylenol and a glass of water on the nightstand.” Bruce said as he nodded towards the nightstand.

I gave him a small smile and took the pill along with the water. A small bruise adorned Bruce’s jaw, and I cocked my head to the side, trying to get a better glimpse of the purple and blue bruise.

I threw the covers back and my hand went to his jaw, “Did they have to hit you in the face?” I questioned and his eyebrows drew together. “What- what do you mean?” he asked.

“Your jiu jitsu group... That’s who hit you, right?” I questioned and he sighed. “Oh. Yes. Practice got a little rough; that is all.”

I folded my arms up to my chest, “Was that after you left at midnight? I thought you went on a run. At least that is what Alfred suggested you were doing.” Bruce turned to me as he tightened his tie.

“I went on a run. Then after that I went to the gym. I couldn’t sleep.” he said, and before he could walk away, I shook my head. “Your cars were in the garage. Surely you didn’t run all the way into the city.”

“I called a cab. And I came home in a cab.” Bruce grabbed his suit jacket, and he walked out of bedroom. Tears brimmed my eyes, he was lying. There was no cab. He never calls cabs. His cellphone was on the counter.

Bruce lied to me and that was enough evidence all in itself. He got the bruise from somewhere else, and I was going to find out. I picked up our bedside telephone and dialed the number to the gym Bruce frequented.

“Hello, Donnie’s gym, how can I help you?”

“This is Mrs. Wayne. I am calling in regard over my husband Bruce Wayne’s account. I’m paying bills this month and was wondering what I owe you for this month, Donnie?” I asked.

“Ah Y/N! It’s good to hear from ya. Now, Bruce hasn’t been to the gym since before you guys tied the knot. He hasn’t been in uh--- maybe two years? I do appreciate his donations though. Keeps the place running.” Donnie said, and my grip tightened on the phone.

“Oh. I see. Well, how much does he donate? I can fill out a quick check and mail it to you.” I say, and Donnie sighed.

“Usually $2,000.” I scribbled down the amount on a sticky note, “Well, thank you Donnie. Bye-bye now.” I say before hanging up the phone. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the diamond ring on my finger.

I wiped the tears away before they could fall. I was going to Wayne Enterprises, and this was getting sorted out now.

-----

When I walked into the building, I was greeted by multiple people. “Mrs. Wayne, would you like me to call up to Mr. Wayne and inform him that you are here?”

I shook my head, “No, I am here to surprise him.” I say before the elevator door closed behind me with a ding. The elevator door stopped at the top floor, and I walked out of the elevator. Bruce’s main secretary Sidney looked up from her computer screen: “Oh! Hi, Y/N! How are you?”

“I am great, thank you. Is Bruce in a meeting?” I asked, and she shook her head. “No, a matter of fact, he just went back into his office.” I thanked her and walked over to Bruce’s office door. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, and a woman was standing next to Bruce looking out the big glass window.

They both turned and looked at me; Bruce’s eyes widened, and the woman’s eyes trailed over to look at Bruce, and then her attention went back to me.

---------------

Hey guys! Sorry I didn’t post this sooner; I got super busy with school and studying. I know these chapters are fast paced, and I apologize for that. But I hope you enjoyed, Comment if you want to be added/removed from taglist.

TAGLIST: @rl800 @auspicious-lilana @theclassicvinyldragon

#dc comics #dc heroes #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #gotham #the batman imagine #batman x reader #alfred pennyworth

74 notes · View notes

madwomansapologist · 1 year

Text

Bruce Wayne meeting you would include

Masterlist | Taglist | Library | More Bruce Wayne | AO3

synopsis: When a new journalist moves to Gotham City (and by choice, can you believe that?), Bruce Wayne discovers that he isn't prepared to overcome everything and everyone.

warnings: fluff. grumpy x sunshine. optimistic reader. being a hostage in a bank robbery. threats of murder. fighting. no one dies cuz he is Batman duh.

note: basically, I love him so much that I took the reader-insert and turn it into a author-insert by making the reader a journalist :D

• Who, in full conscience and access to information, would choose to live in Gotham City? Well, you did. There were many reasons for you to not leave your old life behind and move to Gotham (the majority of them involving violence and death), but you also had so many reasons to forget about all that and at least try.

• You have a reputation in the journalistic world, and the Gotham Broadcasting Company has expresed interest in having you as announcer and columnist. And it turns out that Gotham is spending a lot of money into convincing people with degrees to stay there. Is not like you would be rich or anything near that, but it would be easier than in your hometown.

• Also, its not like the place you lived before was that good. You found a really great job that actually pays well, a great apartment that costs quite the same as your old one, and maybe there you could do something good. Thats why you chose this job: to spread knowlegde is to change peoples lifes. And in a city with such a bad political environment, anyone with good intentions will make a difference.

• Like Batman. Not that you think of yourself as someone as great as Batman, but you can't help yourself from daydreaming. Batman is there, making more good things than half of the elected politicians, and for what? He is not gaining money, or fame, or status. No one knows who he is. He is just helping because he can.

• Would he agree to be interviewed if you was a hostage in a bank robbery? A bank robbery happens at least once a week, so maybe...

• What you didn't expect was that, well, it would work. Not that you really was a hostage just to get a interview with Batman, you were just trying to solve a problem with your bank manager and then one person screamed to everyone to lay on the floor and one thing lead to another and suddenly you were a hostage.

• The only thing everyone need to do was to lay down in silence but what did a women just did? Yes, she runaway. While crying. Really loud. Obviously it wouldn't work, but it did start a clutter. You felt one of the thieves lifting you by your hair and demanding to everyone to shut up or they would start killing people.

• And then Batman came in. And he was... wow. He jumped into the bank by a windown, crushing a thief and fighting with two others near. The man holding you started to walk backwards, yelling something to his gang. They did fought back but who would win against Batman? When remained just the man holding you and Batman, he did threatened to kill you. But with just one move Batman threw his bat shapped blade and the thief fell back, already unconscious.

• You would have fallen to the ground if it wasn't for him. You may be dead if it wasnt for him. Batman was more than just a guy with a mask. He was a hero. Your hero. And when he asked you, with that rough and deep voice that chills you to the bones, if you were hurt... of course you said the only thing that no one with a good mental health would say.

• "Are you interested in giving an interview to Gotham Broadcasting Company?"

• Bruce Wayne is prepared to everything and everyone. He is ready to defeat any hero or villain. He knows how to use all kinds of weapons, and how to transform anything into a weapon. Bruce knows all types of combat styles, is polyglot and is can manage his family enterprises. And yet, that took him by surprise.

• Batman didn't answer you, not with words at least. Because that night, trying to sleep but failing miserably, you could still hear his laugh. And it was enough. At least by now.

• If only you could imagine that, at same time you were hearing his surprised laugh on your bedroom filled with moving boxes, Bruce Wayne was thinking about giving an interview to Gotham Broadcasting Company.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

130 notes · View notes

imagine--if · 2 years

Note

Could you do some yandere Battinson, Pleaseee? I'm thirsty for it 😩

A/N: The hell I can 😍 made relationship hcs based on it, enjoy!!

Pairing: Battinson x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: Obsessive loving behaviour 🦇

• As if Bruce not being a yandere in a relationship isn’t enough already 😂

• He’s very perceptive and observant, especially with reading your expressions or moods when they’re out of the ordinary. Maybe someone upset you? You need Vengeance? Literally?? Boy’s gone.

• Bruce is naturally protective, since you’re one of the few people left that he genuinely cares for. He can’t let anyone take you away from him, and will go to drastic measures to ensure it. He lives for you, The Batman is for you… you’re his everything 🖤

• He’s a lil shy with initiating cuddle or kissing sessions, but once you start them, he doesn’t want you to stop. Your touch and affection is the warmest, most comforting feeling Bruce has had since his parents died, and he’s addicted to it.

• Bruce likes keeping tabs on where you are and isn’t very good at being subtle 😅 he might be fighting crime outside and peeking in through the windows of your room in Wayne Manor with his binoculars, and probably has cameras set up - but not so much to be controlling or anything, more to check you’re doing okay

• He has irrational fears of abandonment, like, coming home and you not being there even though there’s no chance of it happening 🥺 so being able to see you on a screen and hold your hand at home calms him instantly

• Whenever he’s dazed by what he sees and feels a bit depressed, he always comes to you for silent comfort and gets annoyed at any interruption

• Bruce Wayne as a yandere wouldn’t be so much about literally tying you up to make sure you stay safe and he could never bring himself to hurt you, and since he doesn’t kill/use guns he finds his own ways to deal with your problems.

• Yep, your problems are his 🥰

• He’s very protective and clingy in his own way, and everyone Alfred can see it clearly; it’s a good thing though, man’s in love 😍

418 notes · View notes

gaypirate420 · 2 years

Text

Public appearance // Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne x male!reader.

Part one.

Bruce Wayne, a client of yours calls you again, you think is going to finally do your job, but it isn't anything like that, again.

September 25.

I'm too distracted by my informant, I got too attached with a random civilian, with him.

I don't think I'm good enough for him, I'm not good at all for anyone.

I'm afraid my darkness will consume his shine, afraid of his fire that kepts me warm will get extinct because of me.

You got out of the shower and wrapped your waist with a towel, you took a deep breath and sat on your bed.

You look at your wallet, you haven't had the necessity to work since two months ago.

You remember your date with Bruce very well.

He was anxious, shy, respectful, he is so soft spoken that the noise of the restaurant was making it hard to listen to him.

Your phone started to rings and you looked at the contact name with curiosity.

Bruce W <3.

You grabbed your phone immediately.

"Speak to me." You said softly, you got to your closet.

"A-are you busy today?" Bruce asked, his voice soft and low as always.

"I'm always free for you, honey bunny" You teased, Bruce felt his cheeks warm, those pet names are driving him insane, he missed them so much, he misses you saying his name.

"Okay—"

"I need your services—" He said shyly, you smiled and stopped everything you were doing.

"I have to attend an event tonight, a gala, I want you to go with me" He cuts you off before you get the wrong idea, you chuckled softly.

"What do you want to do with me, honey bunny?" You said softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, your face inches away from his.

"I want to have dinner with you." He said shy.

"You really want to show up with a random dude at a very public place again?" You sat on your bed, Bruce sighed and look at Alfred who was on the other side of the table room with a smirk.

"It's not—a random dude It's—you" He said softly, this time lower and more shy, you smiled and felt your cheeks warm.

"Right, gummy bear, I'll wait for your car, but my nice suit was—destroyed by the Batman can you believe it?" You said offended.

Bruce cleared his throat with nervousness.

"Batman?" He asked a little more cheerful, you nodded and put on your pants.

"I'm kinda his best friend and he saved me from a dude a week ago, unfortunately he couldn't save my suit" You explained and put on a shirt with a Batman logo.

Bruce chuckled softly, this was probably the first time you had heard him laugh.

"I'll buy you a new one, what do you want?" He asked nicely, you hummed while you put on your shoes.

"One that matches with your suit" You whispered, Bruce nodded with a little smile and grabbed paper and a pen.

"Right, what else?—"

"And pretty earings too, you know I'm a man with expensive taste so ummmm diamonds or rubies will do" You teased and chuckled, Bruce smiles after hearing your laugh.

"Alfred will go to your apartment in 15 minutes" Bruce instructed, the butler nodded and stood up.

"But I haven't done my make up yet" You commented.

"You'll do it here, food will be served too." Said Bruce softly, you hummed in agreement and ended the call.

Batman needed eyeshadow last night, he burrowed from your backpack and didn't returned, he hopes you haven't realized yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the first date with Bruce, his butler Alfred asked you a lot of questions, quite personal ones, he treated you like a regular on the manor despite being your face time there.

This time was no different.

"Master Bruce is very glad that you accepted his invitation again, he adores your company." He said softly, you smiled and feel your cheeks warm again.

"I enjoy his company too" You said softly.

Alfred opened the door and you saw Bruce reading the news paper.

"Hello, pretty boy" You greet him with a smile, Bruce waved slightly at you.

"Batman merch?" He asked the most normal way he knew.

You noticed that Bruce gets uncomfortable when you mention Batman, is he jealous? Or maybe he doesn't like the vigilante like the other millionaires of Gotham.

Or maybe, just maybe.

Nah.

"What? I gotta support him, I made it myself you think he'll like it?" You joked looking at it, Bruce smirked.

You put your make up box on the table and got closer to Bruce, you played with his sunglasses.

"He'll love it." He said softly, you smiled, God he loves your smile.

You don't have a sense of personal space, Bruce realize that very quickly the first time he meet you.

But he doesn't mind at all.

"Hungover?" You asked looking up to inspect the gothic architecture the Wayne manor has, it was intimidating, scary, dark and misterious but gorgeous.

Just like him.

"Just sensitive to the light" He explained, you nodded slightly.

"Mister ___, Would you like to see the suit Master Bruce got for you?" Alfred asked from the door.

"Ohhh yes please" You said cheerful, you places a quick kiss on Bruce's cheek.

You grabbed Alfred's arm and started walking with him.

Bruce felt his cheeks burn.

He took a deep breath and opened your backpack, he retuned the eyeshadow, then sat back down trying to process your actions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got to Bruce's room, he looked at you with wide eyes.

After a quick meal with Bruce you did your make up, you had a moment of relief after the eyeshadow you thought Batman took was on your backpack all along.

"How do I look?" You asked with a shy smile, he makes you nervous, he is really pretty.

"You're very handsome" He said softly, you smiled and got closer to him, your fingers brushed his shoulder, you looked around for his tie.

You grabbed it and pass it around his neck.

"You are so pretty, Bruce" You whispered, you did his tie and patted his chest.

You lean over and kiss him on the lips quickly, Bruce grabbed your jaw, his fingers aren't soft, they're a little rough, weird for a millionaire who hasn't had to work.

He leans over and kissed you, you gapsed a little, he is good kisser, shy as always, afraid even.

"Master Bruce? You need to leave in 10 minutes if you want to be there on time" Alfred said from behind the door, you looked at Bruce who gave the door a murderous look.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: this is part two! Hope you like it.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x male reader #battinson x reader #battinson #the batman imagine #the batman x male reader #x male reader #batman x reader

192 notes · View notes

twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

Text

Making Headlines [Part 16]

Words: 4.4k+ Summary: The truth comes up. Warnings: Rich people being their privileged selves. Fem!Reader. Lying/being lied to for years. Lack of proofreading - I did the best I could. Parts: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen [Series Masterlist]

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

You've noticed how your sleep has been getting lighter with time. You’ve started finding yourself waking up to the soft sound of the rain hitting the windows, a little bit of a harsher wind hitting the glass, and, especially, whenever he’s walking through your apartment.

Only after noticing the familiar pattern of the steps on your hardwood floors or tiles, and possibly speaking to him for mere seconds, your sleep goes back to being how it usually is, deeper and heavier.

And, just as expected, tonight, you get to wake up with that exact noise. You keep your eyes closed, listening to Bruce's steps getting closer to your bedroom. You wait it out, and the sound stops as you assume he has gotten to your bedroom door.

In no time, you feel the bed dip next to you and a hand is laid on your hip. You open your eyes and stare back at him. Bruce’s hair has a few drops of water from the rain, his clothes are their usual black and the rest of his face is lost in the room’s darkness. He's sitting just beside your laying body, at the side of the bed.

You lay your land on top of his on your hip and look up to your bedside table, checking the time.

“You did not just wake me up at 3:30AM.” You whisper at him.

You hear his exhale through his nose, obviously finding your complaint amusing, and look back at him. He moves his head, not noticing your stare, and looks out of the large windowed wall of your bedroom. You watch him as the city lights escape through the crack of your curtains and illuminate his face for you.

Bruce is more than distracted. The lights in the distance are able to almost bring him into a trance, and you’re not able to pull him out of it. You look out as well, trying to understand what he’s looking at, but before you do, Bruce looks away and smooths his hand over your side.

“You better go to sleep.” You tell him. “I have an early meeting tomorrow, and you are not ruining my mood for that.”

He doesn’t answer verbally again but he does get back up from the bed. You notice the way your skin loses warmth as his hand is pulled away and watch as his figure moves before you. You watch him, almost lost in the dark room, and he pulls his shirt off himself, as well as the rest of his clothes.

When Bruce lays down on the bed, you’re quick to get closer. Your eyes meet for just a little bit, and Bruce is unable to see a lot of your face as he’s the one facing the light this time. You watch him, though, without a problem, and it’s ridiculous how easy it is to see it.

Another bruise. One just right at the end of his jaw. One someone probably wouldn't even notice if his skin wasn’t so fair or, really, if they weren’t looking to find one - just like you do.

Your hand lifts and lays near the bruised skin, your fingers carefully brushing over it. Bruce stares at your dark shadowed form as you do it, all while he curses himself out in his head for not even trying to hide the bruise he absolutely forgot that he had. He doesn’t freeze or get ready to get bombarded with questions, he knows you won’t ask anything. You have never done that, and he knows that you’ve seen every single one of them.

Maybe Bruce should feel guilty for not telling you the truth, but, deep down, he knows that he doesn’t feel this way because he will tell you the truth eventually. Only when the time seems right and whenever things calm down in both of your lives. Only then he will tell you and he does not have one thought that could ever make him change his mind about this.

He will have to endure your comforting and silence about his scars and his bruises until then and endure the possibility of any feeling of pity or worry as well. He will have to see the way you stare at them as you always do and then the way you force yourself to look away and act normal. The way your smooth hands move comfortingly past them. So softly that Bruce swears the pain disappears when he feels them.

Your acrylic nails brush through his hair next, all of it as your way of faking ever noticing the bruise on his face. Bruce quickly lifts his head off the pillow and lays his lips against yours. Your head continues to rest on your pillow as your lips move against his, and your hand on his hair moves to the nape of his neck.

The kiss is soft and careful for both of you. Bruce lays his arm beside your body, hovering over you more comfortingly, and your back now lays on the bed. Your lips separate, and the two of you directly stare at one another. Only one visible side of both your faces, but enough for the two of you.

Your fingers move through the shorter strands of Bruce’s hair,, and you notice him looking over to your bedside table. He closes the space between you one more time and kisses you.

When separating on this one kiss, Bruce won't have you awake for any more minutes due to tomorrow’s events on your schedule. So, he lays back down beside you. Not yet comfortable with the position, and before you can even process it, Bruce flips you with him and makes you lay half of your body on his.

One of your hands lay over his chest, and Bruce’s arm holds you securely close to him. You close your eyes, ignoring all of your possible saddening thoughts, and force yourself to feel your need to rest. Bruce stares out of the window once more and watches as the Bat logo still shines in the clouds of the storming night. He stares at it and rests his head on yours as he does so.

In the space of a few minutes, Bruce feels you entirely relax next to him, and his eyes keep trained on the outside. His arm around you doesn’t hold you in any way less tight, and his hand has begun to move on the side of your body all over again. His body, by continuously sensing and understanding who leans against him and whose peaceful exhales hit his skin, relaxes and, very slowly, makes Bruce fall asleep.

Bruce’s eyes close and, together, the two of you sleep your entire night holding one another.

(...)

“Thank you, everyone.” You say, dismissively as soon as the meeting comes to an end.

Everyone in question slowly stands from the long conference table, and you stay in place, having been the one to stand first at the head of the table. You watch as all of your workers gather their laptops and other materials to abandon the room patiently.

You offer your best imitation of a pleasant smile every time they look at you and continue to hold your own hands behind your back. Anxiety grows inside of you as you can’t wait for everyone to walk out and leave you with yourself. All while you continue to watch as people talk amongst themselves and offer their goodbyes one last time to you.

You look down at your things inside your bag as it stays open on the floor, just beside your feet, and your heart only beats quicker. Your assistant stays near the open door, thanking everyone as they walk by her to get out of the room, and the two of you stand in almost identical poses. People continue to leave at their own pace, and you sigh to yourself when looking upwards once more.

To say waking up today was hard is a true understatement. It was a cold morning. One where you couldn’t even begin to find the courage to reach for the AC to heat up the room, so, you clung to the bigger man beside you under the blankets instead. It made you lose at least 30 minutes of your morning routine, but, still, it was an awful temperature to wake up to.

It wasn’t until Bruce got up and turned on the heat that you felt obligated to move. And Bruce? Oh, he walked back to bed. He slept some more, which made it seem that he wanted to rub it in your face how he has the privilege of not worrying about work. Your urge to throw a shoe at him only got worse when he had the audacity to go to the kitchen to have breakfast with you. It’s nice of him, sure, but it wasn’t nice when he revealed his plans for the day to you. “Sleep more” He had said.

The little shit.

He watched from the bed as you got ready for work, from dressing up to doing your makeup. He also found it extremely amusing how you spent most of your time choosing the right shoes, and that actually made you send him a glare - to which he grinned at.

You push the memories aside, feeling the corners of your own lips genuinely pull upwards, and watch as the last person walks out of the meeting room. You close your eyes for a second in relief and grab your bag from the floor.

Your assistant moves just as quick. She closes the door right as the last person walks out and closes some of the blinds of the glass walls that face the table. When she turns back to you, she already finds you displaying all of the documents at the table.

It’s pretty interesting to see how serene you look or how gracefully you move when the task can only be stressful in her mind. Your assistant only knows the theme of the job, but her curiosity makes her not hold it in anymore. She begins to walk toward the long table, and her eyes meet the documents. She notices your stare at her, but neither of you says anything.

She knows that you’re looking for various examples of the company's growth and decline. From its extractions and intakes every month. Its growing in popularity when it comes to the attraction of new clientele. Its success with marketing - before and after every new marketing team put in place at the company. Lists of names of all that were in the higher seats of the company when the numbers grew and fell. And an even bigger list of all the names and companies that your company has ever been in touch or partnered with for the past years.

The documents fill the table, yet you continue to pull out more of them from your other bag, just behind your chair. You never say anything to your assistant, nor do you ever complain about having her there, standing and watching, awaiting your next move.

As you slowly put down the last piece of paper, you now stand beside your assistant. She quickly fetches you a pen, and you take some time to look away from all of the documents to grab it.

“M-may I ask something?” She asks you.

You look away from the pen over at her and nod.

“Why…” She leans into one of the pages facing her, the first one you put down, “This year in particular?”

You bring your eyes to the paper her finger is laying on and quickly bring them up to her once more.

“It was two years before I made my first headline.”

Still confused, your assistant lifts her finger off the paper and nods at you, acting as if she understood what you just said. She looks through the rest of the documents now, checking their dates and noticing that the last one was extracted just at the start of this week. The table is simply full of them because they are all of the papers that connect the timeline between those two years - then and now.

You carefully read the information in front of you. Your anxiety has calmed down, yet it still burns deep inside of you. It may be because of all that you may find, but it can also be due to the lack of things that you may also find. Your fingernail taps on the table as you continue to stay focused on the paper and take notes with your pen about all that you know of each number presented to you.

From each downfall to each upbringing of the company, all of it has a reason to happen, and you write down every single one that you may find in this table - from marketing to partnerships, everything.

Your assistant stays distanced from the papers as you work, but her mind stays in play. She has no idea, at first, of what could be that you’re looking for. Again, she knows that you’re looking at the company’s rate of success and failure throughout the years as that is exactly what you told her you would be doing today. But… Why that year?

She knows quite a lot about you and your career as she has been your assistant and secretary for some good years, but she knows nothing of your personal life - nor does she wish to. You have been in the news ever since you were born. Both of your parents are successful. A baby coming from that pair made a headline at the time, she knows that, but that is not the year of the headline you seem to be looking for. May you mean your first headline as the company’s owner?

That question makes her steal a look at the year on the page one more time, but, much to her disappointment, that is not the year in question. Millions of questions flash through her mind as she thinks of all other possibilities.

You move 5 papers aside, joining the first year that you have on paper in one small pile, and move on to the next one. You write down and underline all that you need to know, or that you think could be needed to know for the conclusion you’re trying to get out of all of this. Yet, still, these first years would make you conclude nothing but the introduction of two companies in the list of partnerships.

You move on to the next pile after joining together the previous one and notice how your body seems to react to the innocently typed year.

You underline the very specific month in all of the papers and simply write down quick letters “B.W.” just beside it. You lay both of your hands on the table and hover the paper as you read them.

That is exactly when your assistant finds the answer to her question. It’s not your first headline of all time, not your first headline associated with the company, your first headline as the boss of the company, or your first headline by yourself. It was simply your first headline with 'the prince of the city', and the first headline that made your name be dragged through the mud by so many mouths in the media outlets.

You circle the large numbers of extractions and intakes of money from that year forward. From before and after the headline. You watch as the total calculation stays printed at the end of the page, showing a clear decline in business.

You stay silent, continuing to move along through the years, moving carefully and joining in the piles, trying to find the new truth that could be the justification for so much in your life. Year after year and pile after pile, and you continue to have nothing.

By the time you’re done with all of the papers, the rude sound of a phone ringing loudly fills the entirety of the room. You hear your assistant swear at herself in a whisper while standing just behind you, and she moves to put down her things and pull out her phone from her pocket.

The contact name flashes on the screen, and your assistant quickly brings her eyes over to you. She watches as you stand straight once more and look over at her to try and see what is taking her so long with the phone call.

“It’s your mother, ma’am.” She tells you carefully.

“Talk to her outside.” You tell her, already facing the table midway through your sentence.

She watches as you stare at the paper and rebegin to tap the end of your pen on the wood. She takes a few steps back and walks out of the room, ready to listen to your mother’s orders or plans, just like any other end of the week.

You stay in place, reading carefully as the door closes behind her. You underline the last group of numbers and stand back straight, creating the new pile. You take a step back and look at all of the piles before you.

Confusion is what substitutes all of your emotions suddenly when all that you feel is the lack of a piece in your puzzle. The lack of the justification that you’ve been searching for.

You walk closer to the table once more and pick only a few piles. You line them up and notice how the first ones all have a thing in common, the decline of money and succession of the company, and the other group of piles the increase of said money and succession.

The first group of piles includes the year of the headline, the two following years, and one many years later - close to the time you finished college. The second group of piles is larger, much larger. It has the second year prior to the headline, the 5 years before your joining of the company, and then all of the years that have you as boss.

Your heels click as you quickly grab the two years prior to the headline, as well as the headline itself, and fetch the papers you need. As you stare at the lists of names, you tighten your hold on the pen.

You throw the pen onto the table, making it roll to the floor, and grab the paper which has the profit of the company in a graph. You lay each graph side by side.

You read your own annotations out loud and then walk over to papers of the following years once more.

Putting all of the papers side by side, you stare at all of them again. You intake sharp breaths and read everything one time, two times, five times. The words before you don’t change as the truth stays in printed words just before your eyes.

The company suffered from the headline of your teenage years, they said. They said all of that yet the precise answer is right in front of you now.

That being that one of the most prominent investors of your father’s company pulled out in the month following your headline. Again, one simple company pulled out, and, naturally, the money of your father’s company dropped.

The logic is: no money to spend, less money to make. But the reality is that, in the following years, there was a new presence: Five other companies. All of them are still affiliated with you and make up for the largest partner deals you and your father have done in all these years.

You pull out your phone and type in the name of the said investor. The news articles of years ago flash before your eyes, and anger builds inside of you. Your company lost its primary investor, it didn't suffer. And that same investor is a nobody in the year you live in now.

They lost the company to bankruptcy and have always been a large spokesperson in the years prior to their problematic separation with none other than Wayne Enterprises. All of it simply 4 years before their separation from your father’s company.

You put down your phone and gather all of the lists of partnered and affiliated companies your business has had, from the headline till now. You pick up your laptop, which was abandoned at the end of the table by the time the meeting was over, and begin to do your research: writing down every name and reading the title of every news article that appears before you.

All articles miss one thing and one thing only yet you still keep on going. Your breath has begun to feel stuck in your throat as you type and as you read, and nothing facilitates it for you.

As you reach the list of this year, you notice that it simply has minor changes when it comes to partnerships, but you do your research still.

The door of the room opens after two knocks, and your assistant walks back in, phone in hand. She closes the door behind her and her eyes meet you, staring at the screen with a focused expression on your face yet hiding your every other emotion.

“Your m-” She begins but something stops her.

You had lifted a hand to make her wait and that was enough to make her stop talking.

You read the final title of the headline and quote from the said website and write down the final two letters on the list “W.E.”. You close your laptop and pick up the paper from the table.

This year has been the best of years when it comes to the company's success, with or without you leading it. Money has never been so high in the graph, and no company from your list of partners has pulled out of business or gone against you even once in the space of 6 years. The only changes that appear on those lists are newer names - smaller companies wanting in, and being sold off to you and your company.

You have made more money than your father has ever done as boss of the company. And you have made 30 times the money that he lost when you made the headline with Bruce.

That same headline destroyed you. The media knew that and made it even worse. They circled your name with lies and repeated your public humiliation in thousands of articles in the following years. You were mentioned more times as the girl rejected by Bruce Wayne than anything else. Soon, that nickname changed to the woman that owns one of the fastest growing companies in all of Gotham.

You stare at the list one more time and close your eyes.

You’re the owner of one of the fastest growing companies in all of Gotham, and all of it as you stand beside other companies that you have continued forward with you. And all of them are affiliated or have been happily affiliated before with Wayne Enterprises.

You have no idea for how long truth has been printed, but you have been fed lies for years.

You look up at your assistant, who stands patiently awaiting her time to speak her news to you, and you open your mouth to speak.

“I need you to fact-check a few things this afternoon if possible.” You tell her.

“Of course. What is it about?”

“I need you to know if all of these companies,” You lift the paper for her to see which paper it is, “truly are or have been ever affiliated with the Wayne’s. As well as their relationships with them at present time.”

The mention of the name of the company comes as a surprise to the woman before you, but she quickly closes the space between the two of you and takes the paper, carefully, from your hands. She takes a quick look and offers you a shy grin.

“Of course. I will try to have it done before 6.” She tells you.

You grin back at her as a thank you and notice as she stays silent for a little longer. You bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself from your hidden anger and point towards her phone in her hand.

“What did my mother say?” You ask, voice as monotone as ever before.

“Oh, yes.” She remembers, “She called to ask if you’re still attending Friday’s dinner.” She tells you, fixing her posture as she speaks.

A sick grin grows on your face, but your assistant is blind to its true meaning.

“I am.” You tell her, “At my parent’s house, correct?”

“Yes.” She nods with her usual gentle grin, “And she also asked for you to do something.”

“Which is?” You ask her.

“She asked for you to not bring any unwanted company.” She tells you, “She emphasized the word quite a lot.”

Your blood boils at the indirect mention of Bruce, and the memories of the morning of just previous days enter your mind. The way they looked at him or mentioned him while talking to you. Yet as the truth makes a comeback to your head, all of their actions appear to be nothing but childish to you.

You smile at your assistant, making it appear as if your mother’s quoted words are nothing but a clear inside joke between the so loving mother and daughter, and she smiles back at you.

“You can reassure her that he won’t be there.” You tell her.

“Of course, ma’am.” She answers you right as she begins to type back your mother’s contact as she takes a step back, “If I may be excused?” She asks, holding up the phone.

“Of course.” You tell her with a nod and a smile.

Unsurprisingly, your mother picks up the call after its first rings, and your smile stretches. You hear your assistant saying the words “I spoke to her” as she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, and your gaze falls back down to the table. You tap your nail on the wood a few times and shake your head as your smile falls.

Good thing today’s already Thursday.

There will be a lack of Bruce in the next parts. He will be there in mentions, but not really there (if that makes any sense). Hope that is okay!!

Taglist: @nadjababygirl@keepingitlokiii @duwcsd@afro-hispwriter@ikeashark69 @cansi09 @harlowhockeystick @wojciechovsk @mr-robot-x @reggxe-a @xxh0neyg0rchxx @yeehaw-wife @goldbvtton @blossomedfloweroflove @ttae-yong @deadflowerd @deardiearyy @staticspouse @boobabietch @egar-allen-hoe @piggyinthesea @verymuchsugoi @toomanystoriessolittletime @happyladybee @kiryoutann @darling-imobsessed @atomicsoulcollecto @blue-aconite @that-girl-named-alex @lauftivy@the-blueatlas @bloodyxheaven @loverofminesworld @bethoconnor @solango @livelaughloove @rdtbattinson @starfulmaeum @ruiaana @horizonboundloner @dc-marvel-96 @thewonderanazombie @e2194 @shimmeringgrim @ms-dont-care @zvts @fanficlov-3-r

If I’m not able to tag you, please check your settings, it could always be something on there. If you’d like to be a part of the taglist send me an ask, leave a comment or send me a DM ❤️

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #battinson x y/n #battinson x you #battinson x reader #battinson #robert pattinson #batman x reader #the batman x fem!reader #the batman imagine #the batman x reader #batman x y/n

176 notes · View notes