#Bruce wayne/OC

[i-mushi]

Chapter 6 of Prime Directive!

It's up!

#batman x oc #batman/oc #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne/oc #fanfiction

[punchdrunkdoc]

Just Breathe - Epilogue

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

4 months later…

An elbow to the solar plexus was not the ideal way to wake up in the morning. 

Especially after only a few hours sleep.  

And especially when said plexus was already sore from an encounter with a baseball bat-wielding thief the night before. 

Bruce groaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing the bruised area below his chest. He glanced over at Beth in concern, knowing what he would find. 

She was having a nightmare.  

Her hairline was damp with sweat, and deep lines creased her forehead. Her arms and legs jerked as if she was trying to escape from something.

It was a familiar sight - she’d been cursed with nightmares since her kidnapping. But they’d been getting less frequent over the past few months, and this was the first one in a while. 

He rolled back towards her, and stroked her hair. "Beth," he murmured into her ear. "Wake up, sweetheart. Its just a dream." 

He kept up the litany of soothing words as he ran his hand up and down her arm, the strong caress meant to ground her in reality, instead of whatever scene was playing in her mind.  

Eventually, it worked. 

With a gasp, she woke. She blinked up at the ceiling for a few moments, before turning to face him. Seeing that he was wide awake, she sighed. “I woke you up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Do you want to talk about it.”

She rolled on to her side and snuggled against his chest. He rubbed her back through the t-shirt she wore to bed. His t-shirt. She still liked to wear his clothes - and he still loved seeing her in them. “Its the same as usual,” she replied. “I’m in the lab. Trapped and alone.”

She’d described it before as an amalgamation of her childhood nightmare with added details from her kidnapping. “Do you, um, need to talk to someone? Professionally, I mean?” he asked cautiously. 

She peered up at him. “Is Bruce Wayne recommending therapy?”

He rolled her eyes at her teasing. “I’m just worried about you.”

She scooted further up the bed until they were eye-to-eye on his pillow. “I’m fine. I’ve been dealing with nightmares my whole life. They usually just flare up when I’m anxious about something.”

“What are you anxious about?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You have to ask?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re over-reacting.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut-off by the sound of her alarm clock blaring. 

“Shit!” she yelled. She sprang away from him to shut off the noise and he chuckled into the sudden silence, looking forward to the upcoming chaos that was Beth in the morning. 

Four months of being a couple had taught him a lot about Beth Carraway. One of the things he’d learned was that she liked to sleep - a lot. She always set her alarm to give her the absolute longest time possible in bed. Which meant she only gave herself just enough time to get ready for work…and there was no slack in her routine.  

No time for a leisurely breakfast or to catch up on the daily news. No time to hit the snooze button and indulge in some morning kisses... 

And definitely no time to continue their conversation about tonight. 

Instead, Beth jump out of bed and raced for the shower, the water coming on moments later.  

Bruce loved their routine, despite the havoc of their mornings. Beth had shifted her hours at work which allowed her to finish by late afternoon. She would come straight to Wayne Tower, where he’d be prepping for his night as Batman. They would eat dinner, and spend several hours together, before he left to patrol the city. She would go to bed, and he’d crawl in beside her in the early hours.

It wasn't the most conventional schedule, but it worked for them. Watching her walk through the penthouse, kick off her shoes and greet him with a kiss was the best part of his day. Going to sleep with her in his arms, was the best way to end his night. Especially since - as she was a light sleeper - she would usually wake up when he got into bed, and they would make love.

Like last night. 

He relived the encounter in his head as Beth flitted back into the room, towel tucked around her. She grabbed a pair of panties from the dresser drawer and hopped into them on her way back to the bathroom. 

She’d officially moved into the penthouse - and into his room - a month ago. There’d barely been a discussion about it; she spent very little time in her apartment, and when she mentioned her lease was coming to an end, it seemed obvious that she would move in with him. 

Luckily, she agreed. This mouldering old tower only felt like home when she was here. 

Bruce stretched and got out of bed. He'd crash for several more hours once she left, but he enjoyed being awake for this - seeing her so at home in his - their - space.  

He leaned against the door jamb of the bathroom and winced as she injected the daily dose of serum into her thigh. The long needle and syringe had been replaced by a small subcutaneous delivery device, but he still hated watching it. "The sooner the lab develops a tablet form of that, the better," he commented.  

She shrugged. "It's amazing that I have this at all. I'd inject a javelin-sized needle into my spine if need be."  

He winced again at the imagery. But in truth it was amazing. The pharmaceutical company had managed to reverse engineer the serum in record time, removing the harmful mood stabiliser at Beth's request and producing enough serum in the last couple of months to keep her stocked for a year. 

It helped that their anonymous new owner was generous with the R&D funding... 

But the expense was a small price to pay for the freedom it gave Beth. 

Freedom which he benefitted from immensely. Now that she was able to experience skin contact, it was like she was making up for years of lost time. They made love constantly. They kissed even more often that that. She loved to hold his hand, and brush her fingers through his hair. She would graze her fingers against his arm if they passed each other. 

Like now - Beth trailed her fingers across his bare chest as she squeezed by him through the bathroom door. He smiled and turned to watch her shrug into her work clothes and quickly tie her hair back into a ponytail.

She was ready to go. 

She stopped by him on her way out the door, stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Sleep well.”

He caught her hand to hold her with him for a few moments longer. “I’d sleep better with you beside me. Do you have to go?” he asked, only half-joking. He never felt like they got enough time together. 

“Yes. Someone needs to earn some money around here.”

“Ha, ha.” Turning serious, he squeezed the hand that he held. “Beth…you will still come tonight. Right?”

She frowned and studied his face, obviously seeing the real fear in his eyes. “Oh, Bruce, of course I will. I’m sorry for making you think otherwise. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

  ———

 A little nervous. 

Understatement of the century.

She was anxious as hell!

But she would suck it up, and deal. For Bruce. 

This was important to him. 

He had resurrected his mother’s charity foundation and was hosting its first benefit in twenty years. It was another step in his evolution from recluse to responsible head of his family’s organisation. Another step in rehabilitating Bruce Wayne’s image, and restoring his family’s legacy. Another step in his new quest to use his privilege and position to help the city. 

By night he would guard the city as Batman, inspiring fear in Gotham’s criminals and hope in its citizens. 

But by day, Bruce Wayne would restore the city to its former glory through philanthropy.

And it started with a gala. 

Which he wanted Beth to attend with him…as his date.

It wouldn’t be their first outing as a couple - far from it.

In fact, their first outing had been the day after their first night together - but it hadn’t been a happy occasion. The two of them had stood at the edges of a grave site, watching from afar as a small coffin was lowered into the ground, marked with a simple headstone: 

George Ryan.

After the funeral, as the small procession of mourners had broken up and made their way out of the cemetery, Bruce had remained in place, his eyes locked on that grave.

“Are you okay?” she’d asked.

“I just keep thinking that I should have done more.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just…more. The next time I come across a kid like that, I’m going to try something different. I know I can’t save everyone - I’m not naive. But I have to try.”

She’d leaned against his side and squeezed his hand. “And that’s why I love you.”

They’d ventured out a few times since, but they both preferred the sanctuary of Wayne Tower, where they could be alone, without the world intruding on their happiness. 

And without the paparazzi getting in the way.  

They’d been caught once - emerging from one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. Bruce had treated her to a night on the town to celebrate her birthday, and they’d been spotted leaving the venue. Luckily, it had barely made a splash in the tabloids, with her dismissed as just his latest floozy.

Tonight was different. Being Bruce’s date for such an important occasion - one the press had been talking about for weeks - would be a statement of intent.    

After tonight, the whole of Gotham would know they were a couple. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for the scrutiny that would come from being the woman who had taken Gotham's most eligible bachelor off the market. High society mothers, gossip rags, social media trolls…they’d all be coming for her. 

So yeah. She was anxious.

Verging on terrified. 

“Are you ready?” Bruce asked. 

She took a deep breath, adjusted the neckline of her strapless, midnight blue gown…and lied. “Yep. Lead the way.”

He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, and they stepped into the packed, glittering ballroom together. 

 ———

 “Well? Has it been as awful as you feared?” Alfred asked, coming to stand beside her. She was tucked into a relatively shadowed alcove at the back of the room. Bruce had gotten roped into a conversation with Mayor Reál about the Renewal fund, so Beth had taken the opportunity to fade into the background a bit.

Hours of making small talk had worn her out.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You knew?” Beth asked.

“That you were dreading tonight?” He chuckled. “Yes. I had an inkling.”

“Bruce didn’t see it.”

Alfred shook his head. “Bruce may have shunned the limelight for the past decade or so, but he was born into it. He’s used to the scrutiny. And he’s learned to ignore it. But for someone new to all this…I can understand how daunting it must be.”

She laughed. “You could say that.”

“But I’m proud of you,” Alfred continued. “I know what it took for you to walk through those doors with him tonight. And I want to thank you.”

Beth shook her head. “Tonight meant a lot to him. I would never have let him do it alone.”

“I wasn’t just talking about tonight.” Alfred faced her and took her hand. “Thank you for bringing him back to the world. This is everything I wanted for him.” He gestured to the gathering behind them, where Bruce was still taking centre stage. “To come back into the light. To carry on his family’s legacy. And to find a new family of his own - you.”

A lump formed in Beth’s throat at the sincerity in Alfred’s voice. But she didn’t know what to say. She felt humbled by the father-like praise - something she’d never experienced in her life. 

And as for his gratitude? 

She didn’t feel worthy of that. 

All she’d done was love a man that she found utterly loveable. 

She was spared having to respond by a soft gruff voice. “Beth?”

She turned to find Bruce walking towards them, a small smile on his face. “Can I have this dance?” he asked.  He noticed Alfred standing next to her, and added jokingly, “Unless you’re already spoken for.”

“She’s all yours,” Alfred said. He nodded to her and released her hand. She returned his nod, a silent acceptance of his beautiful words, before joining Bruce on the dance floor. 

 ———

 Bruce sighed as he collapsed back against the seat of the limo. 

Tonight had been a success, and it felt good to have resurrected a positive facet of his parents’ legacy. But he’d not exactly been in his element. Mingling with the crowd of business magnates, celebrities and politicians that made up Gotham’s elite had been torturous. 

He’d have rather taken on a gang of twenty thugs in a fight. 

But the money had flowed in, and it was all going to a worthy cause. Bruce Wayne was good for something, after all. He didn’t have to ignore that part of his life in order to change the city. He could embrace it, and take on the filth corrupting Gotham from both angles - in the light of day, and the dark of night.

With Beth by his side for both. 

He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed gently. “Thank you,” he said. “For putting up with this tonight. I know it can’t have been much fun.”

She tilted her head to regard him fondly. “You don’t have to thank me. You know I’d do anything for you. Besides,” she continued, “I should be thanking you.”

“What for?”

“For the charity you picked for tonight. It didn’t feel like a coincidence.”

She was right - it wasn’t. When Alfred had given him the list of potential organisations to honour tonight, one had stood out above all the rest. 

A shelter for women and children fleeing abuse. 

A shelter which could have helped Beth and her mom all those years ago, had they made it to Gotham together. 

He shrugged at her thanks, and returned her words. “I’d do anything for you.”

She smiled at him as she fished her phone out of her clutch. 

Another thing he’d learned about Beth? She was a bit of a workaholic - even in her downtime, she couldn’t resist checking her emails. 

He tilted his head on the headrest and watched her scroll through the device, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth in concentration. The lights of the passing city bathed her in a flickering glow as Alfred drove them back to the tower. 

A quick intake of breath caught his attention. “Something wrong?” he asked

“I got a reply from my aunt. She wants to meet me.”

 ———

 A couple of months ago, Beth had made the decision to contact her mother’s family. 

It was born of an orphan’s desire to connect to the people who shared her blood - people who weren’t murderous sociopath’s named Montrose. But it was also for her mother’s benefit; Beth had managed to find her grave in a small plot in Gotham’s cemetery reserved for unidentified remains. She wanted her mother moved to a proper resting place, with a fitting headstone…and her family deserved to be part of that process. 

Tracking down the surviving members of the Parker family - her mother’s sister and a few cousins - had been relatively easy.  A much harder task was contacting them out of the blue. Beth had settled on sending a long email, detailing her story and what she remembered of her mother. And her death.

She’d agonised over the wording for weeks, finally sending the missive just a few days ago. 

And now she had a reply. 

Beth paced the underground lair, her high-heeled shoes clacking on the concrete ground and echoing beneath the sweeping staircase. The heavy silk skirt of her ballgown swished audibly as she traced a route back and forth in front of Bruce’s car. 

He finished strapping on his gauntlets, and caught her arm as she passed. “Beth stop. Why are you so anxious? You had to know they’d want to meet you.”

She took a deep breath. “There’s knowing in the abstract, and then knowing. You know?”

He laughed softly. “I guess.”

“I’m just…I’m worried they’ll hate me. That they’ll blame me. She only stayed with that horrible man because of me. She died because of me.”

“Hey.” He swept her into his arms and rubbed her back. “You were just a child. And she was your mother. She wouldn’t have blamed you for any of it, and neither will they. They want to meet you because you’re family. This is a good thing.”

He felt her nod against his chest. “You’re right. I’m being ridiculous. Blame it on exhaustion.” 

To punctuate her words, she yawned and sagged against him. It was close to 3am, so it was no wonder she was dead on her feet. “You should head up to bed. I’ll be home in a few hours - I just want to follow up on that lead on the drug dealer from last night.”

She stepped out of his embrace and leaned her weight against the workstation behind her. “Yeah. I’ll need a decent night’s sleep to sort out everything for the trip. I need to arrange time off work…and I’ll need to find a place to stay in New York, in case things are too awkward at the family home-”

“For us to stay,” he interjected.

“What?” She sounded confused.

“I’m going with you.”

She gaped at him. “I- I just assumed…,” she stuttered. 

“That I would let you go alone? That I would make you face that alone?”

“But when’s the last time you left Gotham, even for a night?”

She had a point. It had been years - a lot of years. But that didn’t matter. “The city can survive for a couple of weeks without me.”

She still looked shocked. “I can’t believe you would do that.”

“Beth…I’d do anything for you. Remember?”

Two days later…he proved it. 

He stood in the foyer of the penthouse, suitcases at his feet, waiting for Beth to join him. 

“Remember to call if there’s an emergency,” he reminded Alfred, who waited beside him. “I’ve set up an alert system on the police scanner downstairs - if there’s a major incident, you’ll get an early warning, so you can let me know-”

“I know, Bruce,” Alfred said patiently. “You’ve told me a million times. Things will be fine here. Enjoy your vacation.”

“Vacation,” Bruce repeated with a disbelieving laugh. 

“Yes, a vacation. Try to put Gotham out of your head and just live in the moment. Enjoy the sunshine - that’s the warm, light stuff that comes down from the sky during the day.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Alfred’s sarcasm, but the older man just smiled in response.

Just then, Beth came skipping down the stairs in a flowery sundress, waving her sunglasses above her head. “I found them,” she called out. 

“I guess we’re off,” Bruce said to Alfred. He pressed the call button for the elevator and ushered Beth inside, following her with their luggage. As the doors slid closed, the last thing he saw was Alfred waving goodbye, a proud, delighted expression his face.

In the parking garage, Bruce steered Beth to his vintage corvette. They’d decided to make the journey into a road trip instead of taking one of his private jets. It would be just them, the open road, and 300 horsepower beneath their feet. 

But she stopped dead at the sight of the car. “We’re taking this?” she asked, her voice squeaking with surprise.

“Well, I figured the ‘batmobile’ would be a little conspicuous,” he replied. She still insisted on referring to his car by that awful moniker…and to his consternation, he was starting to as well. 

“And this isn’t?!" she cried. "It’s a 1963 split window corvette - one of the most rare and collectible cars on the planet! Its gotta be worth, what, a half a million dollars?”

“About that,” Bruce shrugged. 

“And you want to take it on a road trip? Are you insane?”

He just laughed as he stowed the luggage in the trunk. “It’s a car, Beth. Cars are made for driving and enjoying.”

She bit her lip, looking anxious. He couldn’t resist teasing her. “I was going to let you do most of the driving…but if you’d rather we just took your car, or rented a Volvo from the nearest Hertz, we can do that instead…”

Her head flew up. “No! No, no, we can take this!” She snatched the keys from his hand, as if worried he’d change his mind. She opened the driver’s side door and settled into the seat. She smoothed her hands over the steering wheel, and glided her fingers over the leather-covered dashboard. Any potential damage to the car would be worth it after seeing her obvious joy and reverence.

She put the key in the ignition, but paused before turning it. “Are you sure? Really sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’d let me drive this.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

It was becoming their mantra - the guiding principle of their relationship. 

They both recognised how precious their connection was. How rare and hard-won it was, after all the set backs and misunderstandings. They’d fought to be with each other, overcoming decades of fears and insecurities. 

And they would continue to fight, making sacrifices both big and small - like injecting a needle, or attending a public event…or leaving the city. 

Acts of concession, made with love. 

To preserve the gift they’d been given. 

Beth turned the key and the engine roared to life. Bruce settled back in his seat, ready to enjoy the ride.

-----

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#batman #The Batman 2022 #Batman fic #batman fanfic #The Batman 2022 fic #battinson fic #battinson #bruce wayne x original character #bruce wayne/OC #batman x OC #Batman / original female character #just breathe #carrawayne

[woods2006gal]

Chapter 03 - Candy

Zoey bites her lip as she focuses on the math book in front of her. She was sitting at the dining room table, trying to finish the last bit of homework. “What else,” Martha mutters as she walks around the kitchen. “Oh, don’t use the upstairs bathroom. It’s backed up. I have to snake the pipes.”

“Where’s the leftover pizza,” Clark asks, brushing past Martha and heading right to the fridge. He had headphones on and was blaring music was his walkman.

“Fridge, second shelf. You can nuke the chili for dinner.” Martha looks between the two teenagers. “Some clue that one of you actually heard me.”

“Don’t use upstairs bathroom,” Zoey replies.

“Nuke chili for dinner,” Clark adds.

“Glad to see everyone’s hearing works,” Martha replies.

“Clark,” Jonathan shouts from outside. “Can I get a hand out here please?”

Clark runs out of the kitchen in a flash. Martha turns to Zoey, who was closing her math book. “Sweetheart, are you going to be okay this weekend,” Martha asks.

Zoey shoots her godmother a smile and stands up. “I’ll be fine, Aunt Martha. I promise.” She searches through her backpack and pulls out a card. “Happy Anniversary.”

Martha smiles and tightly embraces her goddaughter. “Thank you.” She grabs her overnight bag and walks out of the house with Zoey in tow. They reach Jonathan and Clark as the later sets the pick up down.

“I’m definitely raising your allowance,” Jonathan tells his son.

“If you guys need anything—” Martha begins.

“Call,” Clark interrupts. “Mom, it’s a couple of nights in Metropolis. We’ll be fine.”

A look appears on Martha’s face, indicating she wanted to argue. “I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Jonathan reassures. “And soon, madam, so shall we be.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Clark says, pulling out an envelope with grease stains on it. “Sorry. Happy anniversary.”

Martha smiles, taking the card. “Sweetheart.” She hugs Clark before climbing into the pickup.

“Thanks for the cards,” Jonathan tells them. He tosses a rag to Clark, then slides behind the wheel. 

Clark and Zoey watch as the pickup makes its way down the driveway before turning onto the two-lane highway. “So, how many people are you having over,” Zoey questions.

“Who says I’m having anyone come over,” Clark counters as they make their way back into the house. Zoey shoots him a disbelieving look. “Just a few people. Pete, Chloe, a few other people, maybe even Lana. Small gathering.”

Zoey shakes her head. “As long as no one from your small gathering goes into my room.”

Clark rolls his eyes. “No one is going into your room. Like I said, small gathering.”

~*~

Clark’s small gathering turned out to be a full fledge party. Zoey had chosen to hide out in her room. She wasn’t a fan of crowds and she wanted to ensure that no one entered her bedroom. It was her scared space. Clark may have had the loft in the barn, but she had her room. She also didn’t want anyone from school to know that she did indeed sleep with the old teddy bear dressed up as Robin Hood that kept a permanent home on her bed.

“Hey,” a twelve year old Oliver softly says, walking into the bright pink room. He hides the teddy bear behind him. A tiny six year old Zoey was sitting on the bed. The black dress she was wearing swallowed her. There was a tiny cut on her forehead. He sits down on the bed next to her. “How are you doing?”

Zoey shrugs. She hadn’t spoken since the accident.

“Me too. Max says I’m going to Kansas too.” Zoey looks up at him, hopeful. Oliver shakes his head. “Not with you, Zo. Boarding school outside of Metropolis. Excelsior. It’s what my parents wanted if something happened to your…”

Zoey wipes away a tear. She opens her mouth. But then closes it.

Oliver pulls out the teddy bear and hands it to her. It was a small brown bear that his mother gave him. A bow was in one hand and a quiver was stitched to its back. The teddy bear had a green pointed hat with a red feather and green shirt. “I want you to have this, Zo.”

Zoey shakes her head. She pushes it away from her.

“Zo, I want you to have it. We’ll still be in each other’s lives. I promise.”

Zoey reluctantly takes the teddy bear from him. She stares at it for a moment, then lunches herself at Oliver. He wraps an arm around her back and tightly hugs her.

“I’ll see if Max will let me tag along when he visits you.”

Zoey nods. He feels tears on his neck. His hand rubs her back as her body shakes with sobs. There’s a knock on the door and Oliver turns to see Max. “We need to go,” Max softly tells him. 

Oliver gently untangles Zoey from him and climbs off the bed. He watches Zoey tightly embrace the teddy bear as she climbs off the bed. Max stops her at the door and readjusts the black bow in her hair. “Max,” Oliver begins. “When…when you visit Zoey, can I join you?”

Max looks at him. He doesn’t miss the hopeful look on Zoey’s face. “We’ll see.”

A loud boom knocks Zoey out of her thoughts. She looks out the window and lets out a frustrated breath seeing the fireworks going off. “Seriously,” she mutters, climbing off her bed. She starts towards the door, intending to go talk to Clark. A beep comes from her laptop and she find a message from Oliver. Zoey looks between the door and her laptop. She shakes her head and sits down at her desk.

‘Max says you’re not doing anything for your birthday.’

‘Aunt Martha is making me a chocolate cake. And I’m going to see Legally Blonde at the second run theater with friends.’

‘Well, I’ll make sure to put your gift in the mail tomorrow so you get it on time.’

Zoey smiles. She had missed having Oliver in her life. His disappearance had been heartbreaking for her.

“Uncle Max,” Zoey brightly greets, walking into the kitchen. She had been surprised to see the usual rental car, a red Porsche, sitting in the drive way. She tightly embraces him. “What are you doing here?”

“If you need anything, we’ll be in the barn helping Jonathan,” Martha tells them, motioning for Clark to follow her. 

“It’s about Oliver,” Max softly begins.

Zoey frowns. “Is Ollie okay?”

“He’s missing. His yacht got caught in a storm between islands in French Polynesia. They’re searching for survivors, but, um, they’re not hopeful.”

Zoey blinks back tears. She had just seen Oliver a couple of months ago. He was fine. He was excited about his birthday trip: island hopping in the South Pacific. And now he was gone. “Oh.”

Max pulls Zoey his chest. He runs a hand over her back. “I’m sorry, Zoey,” he whispers. “I know how close you and Oliver were.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Zoey states, then makes her way up the stairs. Max starts to follow her, wanting to make sure she was okay. He stops when he hears the soft click of the door closing. Max sighs and walks out of the house to barn. 

“How is she doing,” Martha questions.

“Well, she’s still talking,” Max answers. “Other than that I don’t know. I don’t think she’ll stop talking or anything like before. I’m gonna head back to Star City. Let me know if you guys need anything. I’ll check up on Zoey in a few days.”

Zoey yawns as she makes her way down the stairs. She stops, seeing the trashed house. Random cups and food were scattered around. She looks up to find Clark standing in the doorway. “Your party, your mess,” she states, pushing trash out of the way. 

“You’re not going to help,” Clark disbelievingly asks.

“No!”

Clark rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at the fact that Zoey was refusing to help. It only takes him a few minutes to clean the house using his super speed. He sits down and grabs an apple out of the basket. Zoey, who had taken a seat at the island, reaches for an orange. Clark pulls the basket out of her grasp. “You didn’t help, so you don’t get one.”

Zoey reaches for it once more, but Clark holds the basket above his head. “Give me the orange, Clark.”

“Nope.”

“Give me the orange, asshole!”

“Zoey,” a stern voice exclaims.

Zoey freezes and Clark pales. They turn to see Jonathan and Martha standing in the doorway. “Sorry,” Zoey tells Clark.

“You’re home early,” Clark greets, handing Zoey her desired orange.

“We called six times last night, spoke with six different people, none of whom knew who either of you were,” Martha sternly tells them.

“It was supposed to be an intimate occasion,” Clark weakly defends.

“Where have you two been,” Jonathan questions.

“The hospital,” Clark answers.

“I was in my room. I had my headphones on,” Zoey adds.

“That’s it,” Martha mutters. “I’m never leaving home again.”

“Who got hurt,” Jonathan asks.

“Nobody. But I found Earl Jenkins hiding in the loft. He was looking for you, Dad. He’s all messed up,” Clark explains.

“What’s the matter with Earl?”

“I don’t know, but he’s wanted for murder.”

“Earl? What did he have to say for himself?”

“I couldn’t get close.”

“How come? The police?”

“No. Because when I got near hime, I got sick. It was weird. I mean, every time I stood next to him, it got worse. It’s kind of like…”

“Like what,” Martha asks.

“It’s kind of like the way I feel around meteor fragments.”

~*~

Zoey brushes her hair behind her ear as she stands at the back of the crowd. Why the FBLA teacher thought a field trip to the LuthorCorp plant was a good idea, she’d never know. “Hello, everybody,” the tour guide brightly greets. “I’m Gabe Sullivan, plant manager and proud father. Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Dad,” Chloe awkwardly replies before ducking behind Clark. 

“Welcome to LuthorCorp, where we give a crap.”

“Okay, somebody kill me now.”

“A little fertilizer humor there. All right, before we go inside, I need you to remove all your cell phones, pagers, jewelry. Anything that jangles, dangles, or rings needs to go in these plastic trays right here,” Mr. Sullivan tells the students, motioning to table filled with bins. “All right, any other questions?” Clark raises his hand. “Yes?”

“I heard there was a third level to the plant,” Clark begins. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s where we do the alien autopsies,” Mr. Sullivan replies. The group laughs. “I think we better get started.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Chloe whispers to Clark.

“This way, everybody,” Mr. Sullivan loudly says. “All right, people, let’s stay together.”

For most of the tour, Zoey tunes everything out. She wasn’t interested in the day to day running of a fertilizer factory. In fact, she had zero desire to even be in FBLA. Zoey had ambitions to go to law school. Except Max had convinced her to do it; that it would look good on her college applications. The group walks into what appears to be a control room.

“This is it,” Mr. Sullivan states, motion to the room around them. “The plant’s mission control. One hundred thousand tons of animal waste is processed here every year. Trust me, the results can be pretty explosive. So, if any of you had beans for lunch, I’m gonna to have to ask you to leave.”

“Among his peers he’s considered witty,” Chloe mutters to Zoey. 

“Could be worse,” Zoey quietly tells her. Chloe shoots her a disbelieving look. “No one could be laughing at his jokes. Hey, where’s Clark?”

A door in the corner of the room suddenly starts rattling. “What the heck,” Mr. Sullivan exclaims. “Excuse me.” Mr. Sullivan walks over to the door. The door suddenly bursts open and a man that Zoey vaguely recognized as Earl Jenkins walks into the room with a gun.

Earl holds the gun up to Mr. Sullivan’s head. “Don’t move,” he orders. Mr. Sullivan holds up his hand. “Take me to level three. Now!”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Bullshit! Take me there now! Everyone sit down!”

The teenagers all sit down on the floor. “I swear, I don’t know anything about level three,” Mr. Sullivan repeats.

“You’re lying.”

“He’s not lying,” Clark exclaims, rushing into the control room. He holds up a set of rolled papers. “I found these blueprints. There is no level three.”

Earl takes the blueprints from Clark and rolls them flat on the table. “Every night, I go down to level two. I follow the red pipes down that long hallway, I go to the door, I open it, and I take the elevator down to level three. You’re just like everybody else, Clark. Now you get over there and you sit down!”

Clark sits down next to Zoey, who happened to be sitting next to Lana and Whitney. “Are you okay,” she quietly asks.

“I should be asking you that,” Clark whispers back. Zoey shots him a small smile and lets out a breath.

~*~

Zoey looks up from staring at the carpet fibers when the phone in the control room rings. The room had been filled with a nervous energy. Mr. Sullivan picks up the phone and answer. He holds it out to Earl. “Lionel Luthor,” he states.

“Speaker,” Earl orders. Mr. Sullivan puts the phone on the table and hits the speaker button. “Mr. Luthor, I’ve finally got your attention, haven’t I?”

“Earl, why don’t you come out,” comes the smooth voice of Lionel Luthor. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Just tell me what you were using down on level three.”

“You’re sick, Earl. Let everyone go. We’ll get you help.”

Earl starts uncontrollably shaking. He grabs one of the pipes. “Earl,” Clark says, standing up.

Earl breaks off the valve and throws it at Clark. He looks at the security camera in the corner. “See what you made me do? See what you made do? Your methane gas-valve just broke. The whole place is gonna go up.”

“We need to do something,” Whitney whispers to Lana, Clark, and Zoey.

“Yeah, that’s a no from me,” Zoey mutters.

“That man’s nuts. He’s not listening to the cops and that methane gas is gonna blow.”

“Whitney, I don’t want you to get hurt,” Lana quietly tells him.

“I’m not putting my life in that man’s hands. Two of us can take him. How about it, Clark?”

“I can’t,” Clark replies.

“It’s okay,” Lana reassures. Whitney stands up. “Whitney.”

“Luthor, I trusted you. You told me you were trying to help people,” Early angrily says to the camera. He turns and notices Whitney is advancing towards him. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Earl swings his arm, knocking Whitney to the ground. “Whitney,” Lana exclaims.

“It’s all your fault, Luthor,” Earl snaps, grabbing the gun off the table. He aims it at the camera and shoots it. The camera shatters with part of it falling to the ground.

A silence settles over the room. Everyone was on pins and needles. Waiting to see what Earl would do next. The door to the room opens and Zoey turns to see Lex entering the room, wearing a bullet proof vest.

“What kind of man sends his own kid to do his dirty work,” Earl sneers.

“I’m not doing anybody’s dirty work, Earl. This is my plant,” Lex corrects, holding his hands up. He looks at Lana, who was kneeling next to Whitney. “How is he?”

“He needs a doctor,” Lana explains.

Lex turns back to Earl. “What are we gonna do about these kids, Earl?”

“I never meant to hurt anybody,” Earl defends. “I tried talking to your father, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I know the feeling.” Zoey’s eyes widen when Lex takes off the bulletproof vest. “Earl, you say that everybody’s been lying to you. I’m gonna tell you the truth. My father doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anybody in this room. Because if we all die, his P.R. firm will spin, his insurance company will pay out, and you, Earl, will go down as the bad guy.”

“I’m not the bad guy. I’m just trying to get better.”

“How are you gonna get better by killing a bunch of kids? If you let everybody go, I’ll take you to level three.”

Earl aims the gun at Lex. “You stop lying.”

“Let them go, and I’ll show you where it is. Earl, trust me. I’m a man of my word.”

“Get out,” Earl tells the group. “Get out. Get out! Everybody, get out!”

Zoey runs out of the room with the other students. She didn’t need to be told twice. She easily spots Martha and Jonathan in the crowd of parents. “Zoey, are you okay,” Jonathan questions, tightly embracing Zoey.

“I’m fine,” Zoey softly tells them. She doesn’t miss the cameras and turns to where they don’t catch her face.

Martha and Jonathan turn back to see the last of the students running out of the building. Clark wasn’t with them. “Pete,” Martha calls out. “Where’s Clark?”

“He’s back inside, Mrs. Kent,” Pete answers. “I tried to stop him. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry."

Martha turns to Lionel. “You have to open the doors.”

“They’re safety locked and can’t be opened until the gas levels have gone down,” Lionel tells them. 

“My son is still in there.”

“So is mine.”

Zoey bites her lip as she slowly enters the hospital room. It had been nearly three years since she had seen Oliver. She didn’t know what to expect. She wondered if he remembered her or even cared about her. 

Oliver was lying in the hospital bed. The sheet had settled around his waist.There were various tubes and wires hooked up to her childhood friend. There were scars over his very tanned body. “Hi,” Zoey quietly greets. Her grip on the plastic container of homemade chocolate chip cookies tightens. She had called Martha and gotten the recipe. 

Oliver smiles. “You know, Zo, I’m not going to bite.”

Zoey lets out a relived breath and makes her way across the room. She sets the container on the nightstand and climbs on the bed to tightly embrace him. Zoey buries her face in his neck. She doesn’t stop the tears from flowing. “You’re not allowed to go on a boat ever again. Promise?”

Oliver chuckles. He runs a hand up and down her back. He doesn’t miss the vanilla from her shampoo. “Promise.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Zo.” Oliver rests a cheek against the top of her head. “Quick question. When did you start wearing glasses?”

“Last year,” Zoey softly answers. “Turns out, reading by flashlight under the covers leads to shitty eyesight.”

“And what exactly were you reading under the covers?”

“The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood,” Zoey confesses. Olivers snorts. He leans back in the bed and pulls Zoey with him, keeping her close. She shifts, dropping an arm over his chest. “Sometimes I wish I had a Robin Hood.”

“I never thought of you as the damsel in distress.”

“Not like that, Ollie. But someone…someone who I can fight against the injustices of the world with.” Zoey shakes her head. “It’s silly, I know. I’ll never have anything like that.”

Zoey lets out a yawn as she pulls back the covers on her bed. She was more than ready to crawl into bed and just relax. The situation at the LuthorCorp plant had ended with Clark and Lex walking out of the plant. Clark had managed to save the day once more. There’s a light buzzing and Zoey walks over to her desk to find the emergency cell phone Max given her was making the noise. She didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello,” Zoey cautiously answers.

“Zo, are you okay,” Oliver questions. “I saw the news.”

Zoey smiles, sitting down on her bed. “I’m fine, Ollie. I promise.”

“Why were you at the LuthorCorp plant in the first place?”

“School field trip. Uncle Max said I needed to add some extracurriculars to my resume and that I needed to join the Future Business Leaders of America club…because I’m going be a future business leader,” Zoey explains, laying back on her bed. She can’t keep the smile off of her face. 

So baby, come to me, baby, show me who you are, yeah Sweet to me like sugar to my heart, ooh baby I’m craving for you I’m missing you like candy

#smallville #fanfiction #Zoey york #ofc #series rewrite #Bruce Wayne/ofc #Bruce Wayne/oc

[dutifulfemininity]

Bat-Boys in Bed

I couldn’t find a good gif, sue me

Dick Grayson’s mouth is filthy. And he gets enough praise, so I think he’d be into praising you instead.” You’re so pretty, all fucked-out and dumb…just for me” as he pounds into you, panting in between words.

He’d also be into touchy sex positions, like missionary where he can hook his nose into your neck and wrap his arms around you. Dick would be into you giving him hickies.

I think Dick has an insane stamina—round after round. His hips would meet yours at a punishing pace as he muttered out praise,” this cunt is so warm and wet for me. My beautiful girl.” And he place wet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Dick isn’t above moaning, but he’s not pornographic about it.i see him whimpering and begging if he’s getting a blow job or if you’re on top and teasing him, but I don’t see him moaning as much or more than you.

Jason Todd isn’t much of a talker during sex, but I do believe he moans. He’d be a lot more gentle with you than popular belief thinks. Especially if we’re talking older, mature Jason who’s passed his “fresh from the pit madness.”

I do believe Jason has a choking kink and I’ll die on this hill. And it doesn’t have to be his hand around your throat or vice versa. It can be him shoving his cock to the back of your throat and feeling you pulse and throb around him.

He enjoys, mature Jason too, seeing your eyes go wide and glassy. Jason loves to pull his cock from your mouth after you’ve had enough and seeing your lips plump and pink. He loves the slight flush of your tits.

Jason is a lot more eager to switch roles and be on the bottom than Dick. If you’re feeling top-ish and want to ride. Jason wouldn’t argue as you ground down on him, rolling your hips and leaving a trail of slick on his pelvis.

He’d beg through covered lips as you shushed him and picked up your pace, driving your hips forward and giving Jason the release he’d been craving.

I don’t know enough about Tim or Duke, sorry.

Bruce is harder to read because there’s decades of lore, canon, and stuff that’s not in the main continuity. Many writers have different versions of him that some favorite—however, here goes.

Bruce is a control freak. Whether you planned it or not, you’d end up in a dom/sub dynamic. He’d be choosing your clothes, picking which jewelry he buys, telling you when to cum before you even realize it.

I also think he has a power imbalance kink, just a little bit. Nothing extreme or megalomaniacal. So I truly believe you wouldn’t be rich (sorry lol); you’d maybe be a lesser known vigilante, and that’s if Bruce is healthily interested in you. I believe you’d be a civilian, but a smart and compassionate one. We know Bruce isn’t one to dumb himself down for company; we know Bruce is attracted to smart women, but none of his past relationships worked because they didn’t have a heart ( I love Talia, but he real; she wasn’t Mother Teresa).

This one may lose people, but I believe Bruce has a breeding kink. It would be a chance for him to restart. His only blood child is an arrogant, cold assassin and the rest of his children are masked vigilantes who dance with death nightly. But with you, his love, he could have a child not born in pain and anger. He’s older and wiser; he’s not as vengeful and mission oriented as he was when he adopted Dick and Jason; Tim sought him out, and Damian came with a chip on his shoulder.

Bruce is unyielding in his refusal to switch places. He’s too paranoid and enjoys control too much to bottom. The closest you’ll get to topping is bossing him around from the bottom.” faster, pretty boy.” You reached up and caressed his face as his pace stuttered and he spilled into you, gasping and groaning as he did.

You wouldn’t be fucked in the suit or the Batmobile. And he hates being called Batman in bed. The closest you’d get to mixing sex with his vigilante life is getting fucked in the Batcomputer seat.

Damian Wayne is the kinkiest Batfam member. I see Damian, who didn’t undergo such a beautiful arc, having a blood and bondage kink.

Damian preferred to tie you down rather than tie you up. He cares for you, and tying you up puts you in an uncomfortable position (he doesn’t want that) and it screws with your circulation. And if he ties you down, he can see your face as he places the vibrator right on your clit. He can see you try to knock your knees—to no avail.

Damian loved to take a small knife and inflict a wound, if you can even call it that. It was feather soft, and you loved when he would wrap his mouth around the wound and suck the blood. Then he’d kiss you, letting the saliva and metallic taste mingle.

I believe Damian would be into hickies and spanking too, but not the for the violence like I see from the kinkier side of the fandom. He would be into hickies, spanking, bandage, and blood play for the markings. It all boiled down to markings. And that’s not to claim that those activities didn’t get you both off, but Damian’s true enjoyment stemmed from the possessiveness of it all.

That’s why he likes to untie you and massage the rope imprints, then walk you to the mirror and spin you around, letting you see all the prints and marks. He could feel himself harden again, but he knew he’d break you if he ever tried to impose his libido and stamina on you.

Don’t kill me, but Damian isn’t into cunnilingus. He also wouldn’t bottom, not like you’d want him to. If, and that’s a huge “if” ( it’s months into the relationship too), he does bottom, it’s not traditional bottoming. Damian would top from the bottom,” go slower, grind harder, beloved.” And he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave prints, because marks, duh!

Damian likes sloppy blow jobs. I know he’s proper and clean, but trust me. Spit, moans, and whimpers; that’s what gets him off. And seeing your cheeks flush and your breathing quicken, but you keep going lower and taking more of him in. He appreciates the determination, and it makes him feel in control, huge, and dominant which strokes his ego.

#yandere damian wayne #damian wayne #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x plus size reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x female reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x oc #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you

[allthegothihopgirls]

in my head jason ABSOLUTELY hates the rich lifestyle he's been brought into. bruce is very objective and doesn't exactly get why he shouldn't just give the kids money. if they mention wanting something or needing something new, he either just gives them (more than enough) money for it, or asks alfred to get it for them.

and jason hates this because he grew up pretty much needing everything, and he's gone from one extreme the the other. he hates that if bruce even sees that ie: his favourite jeans have some wear around the knees, he's got 5 new pairs on his bed waiting for him the next day.

idk i feel like it's just one of those weird things he feels icky about. i think one of his first moments of rebellion against bruce would be neglecting all the expensive, new things he has in favour of his same old dingy items he's been using since he moved into wayne manor.

this would be completely new to bruce too, because dick was pretty easily adjusted to the whole overwhelming wealth thing. and he just doesn't get why jason's against it.

#out of touch old man bruce #i know my characterisation is probably off they're pretty much oc's to me atp #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood #nightwing #robin #alfred pennyworth #batfam #batfamily #batboys #dcu #dc comics #dc #gothihop speaks

[cryptar]

au where ALL the batkids inherit bruces adopting problem, but it's for kids that remind them of themselves

When a hyper-intelligent juvenile figures out his identity and starts following him around on patrol the only thing Tim can think is that this is karma

Steph sees any spunky kid with a villain parent and a hunger for justice and goes 'mine.'

An angry, bitter kid shows up at the police station and Dick immediately starts teaching them how to juggle

Jason reiterates to himself that he's not anything like bruce while collecting crime alley kids like pokemon cards

The little redheaded techie from Barbaras workplace accidently calls her mom and she nearly cries

When a mute youth with a truly horrible father needs a place to call home, Cass doesn't hesitate when inviting them into hers.

it only makes sense for Duke to take the new meta-vigilante under his wing, right? right??

Damian doesn't realise he's mentally adopted the small, scruffy assassin sent after him until he's reading them a bedtime story.

none of them tell eachother until there's a family reunion and then it's just

#alfred thinks its funny and bruce is so smug #alfreds alive btw that man will outlive all of us #batman #batfam #batkids #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #dick grayson #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #tim drake #ill legit make fankid ocs for this au istg i love it #edit: im glad people are enjoying the spiderman meme #i worked hard on that >:] #prompt #cryptic ramblings

[evasive-anon]

Cass seeing angry bby Bruce and immediately clocking that as Batman is the best identity reveal IMO. Batman’s body language being the same as when he initially swore vengeance is just so real and so right.

Panels from Batgirl (2000).

#batman #batgirl #batgirl (2000) #dc comics #comic panels #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #cass cain #cass is so perfect #actually fucking obsessed with lil Bruce’s death glare in this #another Saturday time to drop all the comic pics I took this week or at least prep drafts of the pics so I can clear my image library #oc #original post

[hana-no-seiiki]

More dommy mommy reader!

this time, using some lines from makima’s jp cv’s asmr and devil wears prada scenes. pretty sure i wrote this scenario before but like a long time ago, and just in headcannons so.

YANDERE! BATFAM x DOMMY! MOMMY! READER

You do not think Bruce Wayne was completely aware of the logistics when it came to Galas. If he did he wouldn’t be holding so many of those damn things all the time.

“I’m so sorry, Miss [Y/N]! I really did confirm last night.”

“Tales of your incompetence do not interest me.”

But maybe you shouldn’t be blaming him, but the lack of tact, wit, or remarkable capability the entire staff had. Then again, it’s because you’re always around the Batfamily that your standards for competency were so high.

“Miss [Y/N]!” You heard someone call out to you.

The assistant behind you visibly tensed. Anyone with a brain on them knew not to bother you during work. Hell, any thing that could breathe knew not to approach you when you were swamped with work (which was usually all the time)

“Drake, let me go.”

“Damian. Stay.” Damian doesn’t even notice the condescending way his father reprimanded him, jealousy consumed him entirely. He only saw red.

“How can you be so calm about this? They’re practically smothering her!”

“There’s a reason why Miss [Y/N] was picked to be Alfred’s successor y’know. Beyond just family ties.” Dick caressed Damian’s hair. “She values professionalism above all. She’ll reject them right about now…”

“You . . . love me?” You parroted back. Your features do not budge an inch.

“Y-yes. I’ve been —“

You interrupt, frankly too busy to listen to their rambling, “Then pray.”

“Huh?”

“You love me right? Then pray that I love you. Beg if you have to.”

Despite their flustered almost angered reaction to your command, your admirer felt their knees turn into a soggy noodle like substance. Their heart practically leapt at the opportunity to obey you.

“Only God will make me consider.”

Not even a moment passed before you were back to your duties, the confession long gone from your thoughts, “Tell Timothy for the 48th time, no. I do not want those devices of him in my room, and if I find another one I’m promptly sending in my resignation. Has Bruce confirmed?”

“Uh- oh!” The intern snapped out of their daze, scribbling furiously on their notepad.

You finally stopped where the guys were at, a bit befuddled by the way they were staring holes at you. Damian practically had a mix of panic, relief and anger painted all over him. “Yes, how may I be of assistance to you, young master?”

“I- I’m fine.”

“Richard, make sure to confirm your attendance.” You glared at the eldest brother.

He saluted in response, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Busy day?” Jason inquired, an attempt at small talk if you will.

“Busy day.” You swiftly cut off his olive branch. After making sure none of the men needed your presence with a quick once over, you make a bow and left. Your voice, though soft could still be heard, “Do I smell freesias? If, I see, freesias anywhere I will be verrryyy disappointed —“

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #dommy mommy reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere scenario #batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere dick grayson #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere damian wayne x reader

[canitwaittimetocalibrate]

She kick

#cassandra wayne #cassandra cain #cass cain #black bat #dc orphan #batgirl #batgirls #batman #dc comics #fanart #artwork #oc art #dc fanart #has dc given bruce his daughter back yet?

[batsis-reader]

Batsis, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Damian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

#batsis reader #batsis #damian wayne #dc robin #dc incorrect quotes #batfam #batfam incorrect quotes #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson x sister reader #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd x sister reader #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian al ghul #incorrect dc quotes #incorrect quotes #batfamily #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x batsis #batfam x oc #batfam x y/n #damian wayne x reader

[not-another-robin]

Edit o'clock...

#narsposting #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #mighty mouse #self insert #dc oc

[i-mushi]

TWO CHAPTERS ARE UP

Prime Directive

Chapter 3! (Fun stuff but not THAT kind of fun stuff yet), gif above is just a hint of what's to come.

Crossing Burnt Bridges

Chapter 3, where Itachi finally "asks Yu out"! Gif below is what Yu is thinking

#fanfic #batman x oc #batman/oc #bruce wayne/oc #bruce wayne x oc #uchiha itachi x oc #uchiha itachi/oc

[punchdrunkdoc]

Just Breathe - Ch. 22

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

Chapter 21 dropped tonight as well - make sure to read that first!

-----

Bruce was so much braver than she was. 

Not for the first time, he had bared his soul to her - quite literally. He had offered up his mind, his thoughts, his memories, and the deepest, most hidden parts of his soul to her invasive touch. All to prove his love for her. 

She needed to do the same. 

They couldn’t start their lives together while she was keeping a secret from him. A secret that was already eating away at her, and filling her sleep with nightmares. 

She swallowed nervously, unsure how to start. 

He squeezed her hand in support. “Beth, you can tell me anything.”

She dropped her eyes to study their entwined hands. “I never answered you the other night, when you asked what had happened to my father before you arrived in the lab.” She licked her lips and continued. “Connell, um, found out that my father was double crossing him. He shot him in retaliation.” 

“Okay,” Bruce said slowly. He sounded confused at the unexpected direction of the conversation. 

“The reason he knew that, was because I told him. I got the chance to ‘read’ my father. I knew I needed some bit of dirt that would turn Connell against him. I wanted to get out of from under his control any way that I could.”

“That’s understandable, Beth, you-”

“I lied,” she blurted out, interrupting him. 

“What?”

“I made it up. My father never double-crossed Connell. I made it up, and I got him killed.” 

She risked a glance at his face, but his expression was unreadable. Heart pounding, the rest of her confession spilled out of her. “I’m so worried that it means I’m like him - manipulative. Scheming. A murderer.”

“Beth, no.” He squeezed her hand. “You did what you needed to do to survive.”

“It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I did it to punish him.” 

“And I’d never judge you for that. Beth, you know what I do at night. You know that I’ve spent the last three years punishing criminals-”

“But you don’t kill them!” she cried. “You have such a strong code about it. You don’t kill…and I did. And I’m so scared that you’ll think less of me because of it.” She tried to pull her hand from his as tears started to fall from her eyes.

But he wouldn’t let go. He tipped forward off the coffee table, coming to his knees before her. “You didn’t pull the trigger, Beth. That's not on you - you can’t control what other people do. You were desperate and scared and angry and I don’t blame you at all for what you did. Do you hear me? This doesn’t change how I feel about you a single bit. You know its true.” He squeezed her hand to remind her that she was still connected to him. 

Could still read him.

She looked into his heart…and discovered he was telling the truth. 

He still loved her - just as much as before. 

She laughed with relief, the sound wet with her tears. “Thank you,” she said, the words feeling utterly inadequate. 

He brought his up to her face, and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. She leaned into his touch and smiled at him. 

“Any other revelations you need to share? Any more secrets?” he asked. 

She shook her head. It was the truth, but he only had her word on it. The discrepancy between them felt so unfair in that moment.  “I wish I could give you my power - even just for five minutes - so you could know me as thoroughly as I know you. So you could see how much I love and adore you.”

He smiled at her. “You’ll just have to show me instead.”

Her smile widened. “I can definitely do that.” She leaned forward and kissed him. 

 ———

 Smiling through a kiss was a new sensation to Beth. 

And so completely unexpected given the conversation they’d just shared. 

Where they’d bared their souls and laid everything out on the table. 

The kiss that followed that should have been solemn, profound. 

Instead, this kiss felt like hope. Like a new beginning. Light and joyous and wonderful.

And she never wanted it to end. 

She grasped the stiff collar of Bruce’s suit and pulled him off the floor. His knees cracked as he unfurled from his position and she muttered an apology into the space between their lips.

“S’okay,” he muttered back, collapsing onto the couch beside her in a squeak of leather. 

Laughing through a kiss was also new. 

Her head spun as the kiss deepened. She couldn’t believe they were here, like this. An hour ago she was curled up on this couch alone and depressed, wallowing in misery and drowning in guilt. Now she was clambering over Bruce’s lap to straddle him as they kissed and kissed and kissed. 

His strong hands clasped her hips as she settled her weight on his legs. He pulled her closer until their lower bodies met, the sensation of his erection pressed against her core zinging through her like electricity.

And just like before at the party, she felt his hunger too. His feelings and emotions ricocheted through her from every point of contact between them. 

It rocketed her desire from nought to sixty in seconds. The laughter and smiles faded as the kiss turned wanton and sensual. 

She needed more.

More skin. 

More contact. 

She started grasping at the armour at his shoulders, at the kevlar plates covering his chest, but they wouldn’t budge. With a frustrated growl, she broke the kiss. “How the hell do you get these off?”

He laughed, finding her slightly manic rush to disrobe him adorable. She ‘saw’ the way she looked through his eyes and covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling her hands away. “Don’t apologise.”

She tried to get her desires under control - she could feel her heart pounding and her breathing was fast and shallow. “It’s just…”

“What?” he asked, running his hands up and down her thighs as if to sooth her. 

“I can…feel…everything you’re feeling. And when you add that to what I’m feeling…”

“It’s a lot,” he finished.

“Yeah. Understatement.”

He laughed. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No…but I just want us to be in this together. Without me…racing ahead.”

He leaned forward, sweeping her hair to the side to brush a series of light kisses down her throat. “I’m catching up, quick. Believe me.”

Her head fell back as he continued his journey down to her collarbone. He gathered the edge of her cardigan and the straps of her camisole and bra and pulled them to the side, continuing his exploration across her bare shoulder. 

His other hand pulled her against his erection again. It was harder. More insistent. “Do you feel me catching up?” he murmured between kisses. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, feeling light headed with all the sensations. Her hands came up to his shoulders to steady herself, and she remembered why they’d stopped before. She tapped on his shoulder guards. “So can you take these off, please?”

She wanted to do some exploring of her own. 

In a quick movement that took her by surprise, he lifted her off her lap and deposited her on the couch beside him. He got to his feet and started unsnapping and removing plates and capes and boots until he was left in just the motorcycle suit underneath. He grasped the zipper at his throat but she jumped to her feet to take over the task. She pulled the tab down, her eyes locked with his, then removed the jacket from his wide shoulders. 

She untucked his t-shirt from his pants and raised it over his head, tossing it on the floor behind her. She dropped her eyes to his bare chest. “Finally,” she said, causing him to chuckle softly. 

And nervously?

As she stroked her fingers over his pale skin, feeling the hard muscle underneath, her impression of nerves was confirmed. 

He was worried his scars would be off-putting to her. 

Silly man, she wanted to say. Instead, she told him how beautiful he was to her with her touch. She traced the scar on his bicep with her thumb as she mapped the contours of his arms. She rested her hands on his abs, running them over the bumps and dips of his six pack as she leaned forward to kiss the circular wound on his right chest. 

She caught a glimpse of the gunman who had caused that mark, before Bruce shut down the memory. She froze as the violent recollection encroached on their private moment, but only for a second before continuing.  She trailed her fingers across his chest as she stepped behind him. She pressed her lips against each of the lines criss-crossing his back. “I love every one of these scars,” she whispered, bringing her arms around him to hold him from behind. “They represent an act of survival. They mean that you were able to live…to be here with me, right now.”

He was silent, his head bowed forward, but his skin told her all she needed to know. 

He felt loved. 

She smiled and hugged him harder, glad that he was able to feel the truth of her feelings for him. 

She picked up on his plan a moment before he executed it, so she was ready when he spun around to gather her up against him. His head dropped down and the kiss was…everything. Loving and passionate and messy and amazing. 

She gripped fistfuls of his hair and stepped as close to him as she could, rising to her tiptoes to deepen the kiss. His palms flattened against her back, under her top, the warmth of his touch spreading across her skin. Her own hands dropped down to grip the tops of his arms.

He didn’t wince, or break the spell of their kiss, but she felt a jolt of pain come from him. He was bruised from a fight last night, and she’d inadvertently pressed against the injured area. An image flared in her mind of him falling through the floor of an abandoned warehouse, crashing into the basement below and landing on the arm she’d just squeezed. 

She flinched. 

“Sorry,” he said against her lips. 

She just shook her head in response. It wasn’t his fault his mind had slipped. 

She tried to ignore the negative intrusions of her gift and focus on the love and lust pouring from him. 

It worked for only a few more moments. 

When he tried to remove her cardigan and the sleeve caught on her cast, he was reminded of how she got injured…and of his own desire to punish her father. She was bombarded with a quick-fire series of images of Bruce pummelling the older man. 

She broke the kiss and stepped away from the contact. 

“Shit,” he muttered bending over to rest his hands on his knees. He looked annoyed at himself. “Shit. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

She pressed her hands against her flushed cheeks and tried to diffuse the tension that was now emanating from him. “Under any other circumstances, I would have enjoyed seeing that.”

He huffed out a laugh and straightened up. “I’m sure you managed to inflict some pain of your own.”

She held up her broken hand. “I obviously did it wrong. Instead of checking you out while you were using your punching bag, I should have been taking notes on proper form.”

He laughed again. 

She would never tire of the sound. She would spend her life trying to make this man happy. 

He stepped towards her, his arm outstretched…but she dodged the contact on instinct, her mind still recovering from the violent intrusion. 

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I, um, think I need to take some of that blocker.”

“You don’t look happy at the thought.”

“It just…it feels like I’m giving up. Admitting defeat. I wanted to see if I could do this without a…crutch.”

“Hey,” he said, stepping close again to rub his hand down her arm through the sleeve of her cardigan. “It’s not a crutch. And it doesn’t make you weak or…lacking…to need some help. You wear glasses to help you see. I wear armour to protect me when I fight and take painkillers to keep me going. This is just another aid.”

She nodded. It didn’t seem like a big deal when he put it that way. But there was another reason for her reluctance to use one of the vials. 

She only had five left. 

She contemplated the measly supply as they both crowded into her small bathroom. Bruce once again picked up on her hesitance. “What is it?”

“I need to ration these. But I don’t know how little I can get away with using and still have it be effective.”

“You don’t have to ration them.”

“But that’s all I have,” she pointed to the row of small glass containers. 

“Its a good job I bought a pharmaceutical company then.”

“What?”

“The lab that analysed the serum - its part of a pharmaceutical company that I bought. They’re already working on manufacturing more. As much as you need.”

She shook her head, stunned. “You bought a pharmaceutical company?”

He shrugged. “Just a small one.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

He tilted his head and looked at her strangely. “Beth…don’t you know that I’d do anything for you?”

She did now. 

And she would do the same for him. Including injecting herself with the serum her father created. A serum that would give her a normal life - and allow her to love Bruce the way he deserved. 

She shrugged out of her cardigan and prepped the syringe. As she did so, the absurdity of the moment hit her. “This is a real mood killer, huh?” She waved the syringe between them. “So romantic.”

“It’s us. That’s romantic enough for me.”

She tilted her head to smile at him fondly. “And you said you weren’t good with words.”

He shrugged. Then winced as she injected the needle into her arm. She glanced at him in surprise. “You don’t like needles?”

“I don’t have a problem with them. I just have a problem with sharp objects piercing your skin.”

She chuckled as she capped the needle. “You big softie.”

He rolled his eyes, and looked away, catching his reflection in the mirror behind him. He cursed under his breath as he got a look at the thick black smudges around his eyes that stood out under the bright lights of her bathroom. He grabbed some tissues from the countertop and started scrubbing harshly at the greasepaint. 

“Hey!” she admonished, snatching the tissue out of his hand. 

“What? You prefer the racoon look?”

“I’d prefer you don’t abuse your skin like that. You’ll end up with wrinkles.” She grabbed some of her makeup wipes and manoeuvred him onto the toilet seat. She stepped between his legs and started gently swiping away the paint. 

“Wrinkles?” he murmured, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. 

“Yes. The skin under your eyes is very delicate,” she lectured in a prim tone, trying to keep the smile from her face. “You need to treat it gently or you’ll get premature wrinkles and bags under your eyes.”

“We can’t have that,” he whispered, closing his eyes, seeming to enjoy her ministrations. 

Dabbing away the last of the black marks, she scrunched up the wipe and chucked it in the bin. She traced her fingers over his freshly cleaned skin. Her Bruce was back. “Hi, there.”

He opened his eyes and squeezed her hips. “Hi,” he whispered, his gaze turning heated. “How’s that blocker doing?”

“Let me check.” She swept his hair back from his forehead and pressed a kiss to his brow. Then another to the corner of his eye. The sharp edge of his cheekbone. The angle of his jaw…

And she felt nothing but his skin and the pounding of her own heart. 

“I think we’re good,” she whispered pressing her lips to his mouth.  

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at him, a mischievous curl of her lips. “But I think I need some more skin-to-skin contact. Just to be absolutely positive.”

“That can be arranged,” he replied, grasping her by the back of her thighs and lifting her with him as he stood. She squeaked in surprise, but quickly got with the program. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. 

And kissed him. 

He carried her back into the hallway and then into her bedroom; the part of her brain not short-circuiting from the movement of their bodies together, marvelled at his ability to navigate her apartment with his eyes half-closed as they kissed. 

He lay her on the bed and followed her down, not breaking the delicious contact between them. She took his weight, bracketing his lower body with her thighs, and gasped as he rocked against her. She ran her hands across his strong back, revelling in the feel of of his skin. 

And just his skin. 

With no unwanted thoughts bombarding her. No intrusive images spoiling the mood. No fear of what she might discover. 

She didn’t even miss sharing in his desires - because now she was free to concentrate on her own. 

Free.

That’s what it felt like. Pure freedom. To finally just bask in sensation and enjoy what the rest of the world took for granted. 

And she wanted more. 

She wriggled her hands between them to grasp the bottom of her camisole. Realising what she was trying to do, Bruce lifted off her slightly. She used the extra room to pull off her top, leaving her in her plain satin bra. 

She wished she was wearing something a little more sexy…but she needn’t have worried. The way Bruce was devouring the sight of her, you’d think she was wearing stripper-worthy lingerie.

He dropped his head to kiss the slope of her breasts and she felt his hands wedge underneath her back to loosen the clasp of the bra. It snapped free and he pulled the straps down her arm without lifting his head. The garment was tossed to the side, and his lips moved to her nipples. 

She grabbed his hair, running her fingers through the strands as he lavished attention on her bare breasts. The feelings were…

Indescribable.

She was lost in pure sensation, and enjoying the hell out of it. 

She wanted him to feel just as good too. She brought one leg up and pushed against him, until he got the hint and rolled onto his back. She straddled his legs, and grasped the zipper for his pants. She pulled it down and slipped her hand inside to cup his hardness. 

He let out a guttural moan and dropped his head back on the bed. She smiled and continued rubbing his hard length, loving the feel of him in her hands. 

She wanted more. 

She was discovering she was quite greedy when it came to sex.

Or maybe it was just when it came to Bruce. 

She scooted off the bed, tugging his pants and boxers off as she went until he was naked before her. He propped himself up on his forearms and watched as she rid herself of her own pants and underwear. 

At his heated stare roamed her naked body, her boldness suddenly deserted her. She bit her lip, suddenly feeling timid. 

He must have noticed, because he got off the bed and took her in his arms. “Are you okay?” he whispered, running his hands down her back in a soothing motion. 

She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Yeah, just…a little nervous.”

“Beth...have you done this before?”

It would have been a strange question to ask a normal 30-odd year old woman. But Beth was not normal. 

“No,” she admitted. “The few times I tried, I was never able to get this…far…before.”

He hugged her tighter against him and dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Its just me.” He kissed the sensitive skin behind the lobe. “Its just us. We can do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

She laughed, and he pulled back to meet her smiling face. “Believe me - I want to do everything. I was just a little…overwhelmed there for a second. I never thought I’d get to experience this - let alone with someone I love so much.”

He smiled in return. “Me neither. I thought I’d given up this kind of life three years ago. And even before that, I wasn’t exactly playing the field. We can figure this out together.”

And they did. 

It was a little awkward at first - but that just led to shy smiles and soft laughter that filled the hushed intimate space of her bedroom, making everything seem so much more…real somehow. 

Imperfect and faltering…but wonderful. 

Just like their relationship. 

But then they found their rhythm, and it was hot, and passionate and amazing. She tightened her thighs around Bruce’s narrow hips as he thrust inside her. She grabbed at the skin of his back as her pleasure built and built, the stubble of his jaw scratching against her neck as he kissed her adding to the melee of sensation until she finally fell over the edge. 

Bruce followed her moments later with a low sexy moan. He collapsed on top of her, and she gladly took his weight, revelling in it. 

She stroked his back with long sweeps of her fingers as his breathing recovered. She felt boneless; her body languid, and sated, and achy in all the most delicious ways. 

She couldn’t wait to do it again.

She smiled, and that was the sight that greeted Bruce when he finally raised his head. He propped himself up on his forearms and smoothed the hair away from her face. He smiled back at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied, her smile widening.

“You okay?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed. “I’m more than okay.”

“Good,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her. It started light, a delicate brush of his lips against hers. But as she’d recently discovered, she was greedy when it came to this man. She hooked her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. 

Just as things were progressing towards Round 2, a loud wailing siren split the quiet night air. The sound of a police car. 

Another chimed in. 

And another.

Then the sounds of gunshots joined the chaotic chorus. 

She frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Not good at all,” Bruce replied. He extricated himself from her arms and padded to her bedroom window. She quickly joined him, shrugging into her dressing gown. He opened her blinds, and there in the sky was his symbol, the bat silhouette bouncing off the grey storm clouds overhead.

The city needed Batman. 

His back stiffened, and she knew he felt torn. He wanted to go, but he was worried she’d feel abandoned after what they’d just done.  

She didn’t always need her powers to read him.

She placed a hand on his back. “Go,” she said softly. 

He turned to look at her, a frown on his face. “But…”

She smiled. “It’s okay, Bruce.” She nodded her head to the world outside their haven. “They need you. Go.”

He pressed a quick, desperate kiss to her lips then tore out of her bedroom, already morphing from her gentle, quiet Bruce into the stalwart vigilante that Gotham knew. She followed him into the main room and stood by the window, watching him gear up, the still-blaring sirens adding an urgent soundtrack to his actions. 

Fully dressed now, his heavy boots clomped against her floors as he made his way towards her. She remembered the first time she’d seen him in this apartment; how incongruous he seemed in his black leather armour amidst her florals and pastels. 

The juxtaposition seemed even greater now, with her barefoot and barely dressed in front of him. 

But the contrast was no longer jarring. 

This was still her Bruce…and she loved him. 

That’s how she could let him go so easily. He was Gotham’s protector. It was his calling. It was the reason she fell for him in the first place. 

So she would never stand in his way. 

She would just make sure to always be there for him when he returned. 

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his stubbled jaw. “Give ‘em, hell.”

He smiled, ducked through the window…and disappeared into the night. 

-----

EPILOGUE

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#batman #The Batman 2022 #Batman fic #batman fanfic #The Batman 2022 fic #Battinson #Battinson fic #bruce wayne x original character #bruce wayne/OC #batman x oc #batman / oc #just breathe #carrawayne

[lazycats-stuff]

HEYYY, firstly how are you! I wanted to ask if you could write about a teen male reader with the Batfam. He is kinda like the winter soldier if you know what I mean ( skilled fighter, metal arm..), since he lived with the Batfam he was doing a good mental recovery, but one day he goes back to winter soldier mode on the fam, and they try to get him back to normal again, idk

Thanks you bye !

Hi anon, I'm well and I hope you are doing okay too. I can do it, no worries.

Summary: (Y/N) gets back into the Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: implications of torture, mind control, mentions of Hydra, Bruce is sad for (Y/N), some violence... And everything else that goes with Hydra and brain washing.

The road to recovery is often a long one. Bruce thought of it when he first saw (Y/N), aka the Winter Soldier. The infamous one, a ghost within the intel community. Many people didn't believe that the Winter Soldier even existed. But the trail of neat and clean murders was the one thing that made Bruce think there is something more.

Of course, the way to get (Y/N) was hell. Hell being and understatement of the decade. Bruce at one thought that he was indeed chasing a Ghost, but something in his mind told him that the Winter Soldier was real. Something in his gut made him chase that ghost.

Months of chasing, fighting and hoping he would be alive by the next encounter, they finally got him. Bruce was lucky to be alive. He hugged all of his kids right then and there. (Y/N) was put into a glass box, strong enough to contain Bane.

(Y/N) refused to back down, refused to retreat. He punched the glass of the cage with his metal arm and some were worried that he would actually brake it. Bruce knew that even if he broke the glass, he had no handler anymore.

His organization has been destroyed. Everyone important was caught. Those who weren't... Well, their time was running out. They may have scattered like rats, but you can bet your ass on anything that the League would find them all. Especially since they didn't burn down their base. One hell of a mistake.

Bruce and the rest searched through the base and they found something that can only be considered as a holy grail when it comes to someone who was brainwashed.

A dark red book, bounded in leather, with all the trigger words written on those pages... Bruce knew that he has hit a jackpot. He looked through them and then has decided to burn it. They also found the footage of (Y/N)'s brainwashing,

The footage, as much as it is damning, making it very easy to persecute anyone they needed, it was also nauseating. (Y/N) was tortured with electricity, memory wiped with electricity... Worse of all, (Y/N) fighting.

It had shaken Bruce to his core and made him triple check the manor security and it has made him check on his sons 5 times that night. He couldn't sleep at all. He refused to sleep that one single evening and night.

And when he stood in front of the glass cage, (Y/N) looked utterly defeated. He was sitting down, looking down at his metal arm and his human arm. He seemed mad beyond belief that he was even caught. Bruce knew he would have to be delicate and gentle with this (Y/N). He had taken the book with him, to try and have some sort of leverage.

And to show him that he was free. (Y/N) was finally free of the mental shackles that they have put on him. Bruce took a chair and sat down near the cell, but far enough to make sure that there was some sort of space.

He couldn't have (Y/N) feel cornered.

He sat down, book in his lap. (Y/N) still looked down, but looked up after a few moments.

" They will come and get me back. " (Y/N) said and Bruce wanted to laugh.

" Hydra is gone. " Bruce simply stated and watched (Y/N)'s reaction.

Nothing. Huh.

" Lies. "

Bruce stayed calm and shook his head. " I'm afraid I'm telling you the truth. The book you see in my hands? The book with your trigger words. Do you really think they would hand it over ever so willingly? " Bruce asked, showing him the dark red leather book.

" You are officially free. " Bruce said as and watched the way (Y/N) reacted.

Bruce nearly broke when he saw hope in (Y/N)'s eyes. He never lost hope.

" I'll never be free... " (Y/N) said quietly, looking at his metal arm. Bruce saw that it was not a nice arms, made with quality. While it looked strong, it wasn't made to be comfortable. And Bruce could see the claw marks at the part where the flesh and metal met.

" That may be true. But you can start healing. You can start working through all of the trauma that they put you through. Mental scars will always be there, but I can help you. " Bruce said softly and (Y/N) was still emotionless and with hope glimmering in his eyes, there was something else too. Bruce could only decipher it as happiness, but he knew that (Y/N) would rather die than admit it.

" I'll be with you the entire way. I have a great friend who can help you unpack everything they put you through. And I can give you a better metal arm, something that wouldn't be so uncomfortable and something that reminds you off the organization. " Bruce said as he looked at (Y/N), holding the book close.

" And what about the book? "(Y/N) asked quietly and Bruce knew exactly what (Y/N) meant.

" It will be destroyed by me. I wanted to show you that the thing keeping you in their grasp is destroyed. Well, will be destroyed. " Bruce said as he put the book down on the chair before moving closer.

" And you can officially start your new life. "

" I'm not sure if I can... " (Y/N) said softly and the defenses were slowly cracking.

" I can assure you, you can. You will have to put some work into it, but it will pay off. I'll be there to help you to start. "

" But the feeling of guilt will never go away, will it? "

" After some time it will. One way is to go through therapy and work it out or you can become a hero. But that only if you want it and after you went through therapy. " Bruce said softly.

" Maybe then I'll atone for it... " (Y/N) said softly.

" One step at the time (Y/N). One step at the time. " Bruce said softly.

And that's exactly what has happened at the time. Bruce made sure to be with (Y/N) before and after the therapy sessions. He made sure (Y/N) knew he had support while he was talking to the Black Canary. And once Black Canary said he could start meeting new people, Bruce slowly started bringing his sons around.

Damian knew exactly how (Y/N) felt. Being in that environment is not easy and it's just the battle of the fittest. And one hell of a battle for your mind. You truly had to be strong enough to make sure to not completely break. Somehow, (Y/N) has kept his humanity, but he had to give a part of his soul to keep it.

Jason just talked to him about stuff and has made sure that he has access to TV shows and movies. (Y/N) needed to be connected to the outside world. And also, Jason has been bringing books for (Y/N) to read. Jason took him his favorites and often took him some classics. (Y/N) appreciated it and liked all the recommendations that Jason has brought to him. It was a nice break.

Tim has always sneaked in some snacks and the two would just talk. It was a hell of a time and since (Y/N) has started school, Tim would help with mathematics and some other subjects. (Y/N) couldn't really go to a public school or any type of school, but he still needs his high school diploma.

And Dick? Dick has been involved in making sure that (Y/N) was getting physical activity. (Y/N) was stiff in Dick's opinion and he wanted to make sure (Y/N) felt good in his body too. Dick did stretches, some tricks and considering that (Y/N) did have some knowledge about gymnastics, it was slightly easier. Not to mention, stretches were something that everyone needs.

About a year after being saved, (Y/N) has moved into the Wayne Manor. It was a nice change of scenery for (Y/N). Beautiful manor, garden, not to mention no noises... And Titus, the Great Dane being an emotional support animal for (Y/N)...

(Y/N) was incredibly happy, but had hard time showing it. Everyone knew but didn't comment on it. They were helping him get adjusted to his new life now and they were more than happy to help. And one thing that made (Y/N) happy out of his mind was the fact that he got a new metal arm. It was black, with red, blue and green accents. It was something to signalized that he was a member of the family.

Bruce was going to adopt him soon enough. Just give him some time and he will do it.

But something happened at the two month mark. Something made him reverse back into the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce was certain that they wiped the triggers from his mind. Not to mention, the boys remembered the trigger words, just in case something like this happened and that they could be careful.

But something must have snapped inside of (Y/N). The boys were careful, but something must have gone awry. Something.

Jason and Dick were the first ones to see it and were the first ones to see it and the brunt end of it. Jason was hurled out the window, while Dick was thrown at the wall like a rag doll. The commotion woke Tim up and Damian was curious as to what was going on.

They were also thrown around the room.

" (Y/N), you are not a Winter Soldier, relax! " Jason said as he made his way through the window, grunting at the pain.

" Please, (Y/N) this is not you! " Dick yelled as he gripped his sides, huffing and panting.

(Y/N), seemingly didn't hear anything and nothing was reaching him. The cold and murderous look in his eyes was more than enough to tell them that they had to subdue him.

Somehow.

Damian jumped on (Y/N)'s shoulders, trying to take his metal arm off. Once they get that off, they are going to be fine. They hope at least.

" (Y/N) come on! Fight it! " Damian raised his voice, trying to make (Y/N) see his senses. (Y/N) didn't listen and threw himself into the wall, back first to throw Damian off and then he threw Damian into the shelves, making him groan in pain.

Bruce walked in from the outside and froze in shock. His adopted sons in various stages of pain and (Y/N) in the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce stayed calm as he glanced over his sons.

They were alive and breathing. That's the important thing right now.

" (Y/N) listen to me. " Bruce said softly as he moved closer, quickly checking on his sons, who were all softly confirming that they were good.

" Look at me. Remember me. It's Bruce. You are safe. The Winter Soldier doesn't control you, you control him. " Bruce said, raising his hands in the air, trying to make sure that he didn't look like threatening.

" You control him, remember that. " Bruce said as he quickly checked on Jason.

(Y/N) looked like he was confused and shook his head. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was getting his bearings together. And once he saw tears falling down his cheeks, he swooped in and hugged his son.

(Y/N) wept as Bruce embraced him and everyone, including Alfred, brought him into a hug. It was a tight hug and Bruce refused to let (Y/N) shatter. And (Y/N) felt safe Bruce's embrace, but by God, guilt was eating him alive.

Apologies were falling from his lips and everyone assured him that it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't his fault.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male oc #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

[dutifulfemininity]

Hey there👋👋 could you please do whatever love language of the bamboos are ??

LOVE LANGUAGE OF THE BATBOYS

A/N: terribly sorry I let this request collect dust. My interest in comics fell as life got hectic and whatever the hell. I won't go all Wattpad author on you.

Dick Grayson’s love language is words of affirmation. At the peak of his characterization, he is a man ravenous for praise and attention. A moment of peace, of relief, of sweetness.

Stunted, yet too grown for his own good—simultaneously. He will seek attention, showering you with gifts and compliments in hopes that you reciprocate. Holidays would read like a HallMark movie that would move suburban mothers to tears.

Dick is also the man to send romantic quotes stolen from Pinterest, and the occasional confusing poem of his own hand. His nerves would grind as he read the ‘’seen’’ stamp beneath his text, worried out of his mind that it didn't properly convey his emotions, his love.

“What, no reply yet? If you're that moved, you could always come kiss me.” He'd send the message, playing it off as a joke. But his stomach groaned with the familiar ache, that cold and empty feeling of uncertainty.

What if she doesn't like it? Will she still like me? Would I seem lame if I double texted? Am I bugging her?

The flames of self doubt would spread and eat at his mind until his phone pinged with a,” it's beautiful, babe. A hard read, but the intention was there.” And a flirtatious emoji paired with it.

Thus, the flames of doubt were stomped out, like they never existed. They liked the poem, and he would spend hours rereading it. Marveling and gushing because you liked it. Something he made.

Jason Todd's love language is acts of service. It's a loyalty thing for him.

Gift sharing could be manipulation; soft words could be lies, and he's too self-loathing to believe them anyway. Red Hood swallows his spare time, and his desire for touch swung on a pendulum—one side thirsting for it, the other side uncomfortable.

The thought of returning home to a nice and warm meal would make him melt into a puddle. Or finding his hero suit washed, and his gear cleaned and stored away.

It reignites a flame in his cold eyes, the domesticity calling forth an unclassified emotion that sent goosebumps blazing over his skin like wildfire, calling his arm hairs to attention.

Jason would return the favor. You would awake to find breakfast made, the aroma of bacon and eggs thick in the air, the sweetness of syrup carrying around the house. Scalding tea trickling into a pot, milk and sugar already on the table. Plates washed and set.

Jason would also do laundry and iron clothes. He gets those random bursts of energy (or adrenaline) and cleans the entire house spotless.

Baths would be drawn for you, and if he's feeling lavish, he'll add roses to the bubbles. The finest soaps would lather your skin, scented with the the best smelling perfumes—business was good, and it was a present. His calloused fingers would be overjoyed to massage your scalp (he hoped you'd do his next).

Tim Drake’s love language is quality time. Also, I would like to preface this section by admitting I haven't read much of Tim.

He would help you study. Textbooks adorning the wooden table after hours of quizzing. Coffee steaming in a mug, pens and highlighters scratching at paper. Kisses shared with each right answer.

He'd tease,” Oh, that was a hard one. A trick question.” A smirk, sweet as frosting would tug on his lips, then a warm kiss would swallow yours.” If I were as filthy minded as Jason, maybe I'd crack a joke.”

Tim’s gaze would find you, in the middle of whatever—washing dishes, doing laundry, exercising. They'd burst with amorous passion, like exploding stars, shimmering and twinkling in his irises.

When the sun kisses Gotham goodnight, and the moon assumes it duty, he'd find himself wishing he could be beside you. Not Batman, not Dick, certainly not Damian. That's not proof that he hates his colleagues or that his work is last on the list of priorities. It's just. . . you're higher.

“Hey, love,” he'd speak into the phone, after the voicemail prompted him.” I know you're likely sleep tonight. But I wanted to at least call and tell you to sleep safe and warm. And to save space for me.” A chuckle would roll of his tongue, the wailing of police sirens in the background.

Damian Wayne's love language is also quality time.

Time is precious to him. His mother’s presence was unreliable. He, his father, his siblings tango with dead every silvery night. Each misfortune in his family reminded him of that.

Robin is not what Dick thinks. It's not just bursting into hideouts and knocking the crap out of villains. The peril is real, as well as the potential for failure—and failure in their line of work means death.

Oracle was paralyzed in a second, one wrong move and her nerves were shot. Jason’s life was quite literally put on a clock, killed by time itself. When Damian was an assassin, it merely took seconds to end a life, one of emotion and desires and opinions—gone at the stroke of a blade.

Time matters.

Damian would try to spend all of it with you, doing anything. Attending museums, painting you, listening to your playlists. Finding the child he was depraved of for so long. Being an angsty teenager and loving it.

“This is considered fun?” A dark eyebrow of his would raise teasingly. There you sat, at a sport's game, the roaring crowd trembling the stadium and stabbing his ears. The golden beam of the sun roasting both you, and the overpriced popcorn tossing and gurgling in his stomach.

But, deep down, the liveliness of the crowd intrigued him. Even he'd find himself screaming along with the masses on their feet, yelling out praise or curse words.

Damian's jade irises would slide over to you, the sheer glee decorating your features. A painting. He'd see a masterpiece in you; how that expression would translate onto a canvas.

#dick grayson x reader #damian wayne #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x fem!reader #tim drake headcanon #tim drake #dc robin #red robin #robin #red hood #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul #yandere damian wayne #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson #nightwing headcanon #nightwing #batman #batfam

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Bruce Wayne Says ‘Never Too Old For Uppies’

Darling billionaire and former Gotham heartthrob turn DILF Bruce Wayne was spotted at his latest Gala wearing the latest season’s top designer suit.

This is of its self wasn’t surprising but the scene that unfolded sure was!

Now it isn’t a surprise for anyone who has been keeping track of the posts and polls about the most attractive men in America that Mr. Winner of 3 years in a row is quite ripped under all those layers he usually wears and when asked why he exercises to such a degree that it could rival the big bat, Mr. Wayne seemed to fumble for a bit before responding with a dazzling smile that he does so that he could carry all of his children.

Another reporter made comment about how all of his children were well past the age of being picked up.

Mr. Wayne proceed to state quite seriously to the reporter,

“They’re never too old for uppies.”

Apparently Mr. Wayne’s two eldest sons had heard their father’s statement as they shared a look before taking a running leap towards their dad with Dick Grayson Wayne bellowing “uppies!” In response.

Mr. Wayne, despite his well known clumsiness, caught both of his sons with a spin before calmly stating to the reporters that he had guests to talk to and then walked away with one boy sitting on each hip.

And let us remind our readers that neither men Mr. Wayne caught weigh less than an estimated 170 lbs!

The rest of the gala had our reporters spotting Mr. Wayne carrying his various children in various ways.

Message was well received, Kids are never too old for uppies, just too heavy!

But nothing less can be expected from the dad of the year.

Though, he may have competition here in Gotham, as eye witnesses have stated that they had seen our own Big Bat taking after our resident rich man.

But who can say? Maybe the two have a closer relationship than we know.

It had been stated that both Bruce Wayne and Batman have a similar physique to each-other with Batman being just slightly larger in size.

Maybe they share a workout routine?

We can only speculate.

What we can be sure of, is that Bruce loves his kids and would be willing to do anything to make them smile.

As always I am Vicky Vale.

*there are two photos shown along with the article. One of Bruce Wayne carting a staggering number of his children. With Cassandra and Damian Wayne on his shoulders, Dick Grayson Wayne and Jason Todd under each arm and Tim Drake Wayne clinging onto his front like a koala. It is noted that Duke Thomas is to the side seemingly recording the entire scene.

The second photo is of Batman with an annoyed Red Hood slung over his shoulder, trying to get loose.”

#writing prompt #one shot #dc au #dc rp #? #i guess #vicky vale #jason todd #batman #dick grayson #bruce wayne #red hood #tim drake #cassandra wayne #duke thomas #I saw one funny post about Bruce carding Jason and this came to be #probably very oc #but dc stands for #disregard cannon #Bruce is internally have Inc. the time of his life #physical affection? with his children? that he can initiate? he’s so happy #none of his kids will admit that they actually just like it when Bruce just picks them up like a kid #Jason after being slung over Bruce’s shoulder durring a patrol: hey! Fuck off old man! no uppies! #he looses some street cred for that is is not pleased #his siblings on the other hand… #batkids #batfam