When I see people pair Bruce or Clark up with any of the bat kids
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You know who I don't think get enough credit? Gotham firefighters. You know all those (really fun to watch) first responder TV shows? I want one of those set in Gotham.
Dealing with fear gas victims? Gold.
Listening to Robin's half-assed explanations of how the victim got multiple stab wounds? Pure comedy.
Responding to Wayne Manor because Dick Grayson knocked the chandelier down while climbing on it? Amazing.
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batfam fanfics that don't have enough fucking attention
alright i'm finally doing it gents listen up
1. Bang, bang by @Ididloveyou_once
Summary: ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’
Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then-
‘Don’t tell Bruce.’
Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.
This fic is fucking hilarious and the characterization + banter is on point. i have a bit of a soft spot for schemes <3
2. four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero braincells to be found by @Ms_Trickster
Summary: Tim: i need to know what’s the best way to a boy’s heart
Damian: Easy. The best way to someone’s heart is through their ribcage. Everyone knows that.
Damian: Come on Timothy, I expected better from you.
Dick: Try again
Tim is having boy troubles.
Tim goes to his brothers for help.
Tim...did not think that plan of action through.
(In which the batbros give Tim advice on relationships, told entirely through texts.)
Again, fucking hilarious. the chat titles are SUCH a nice touch and it really feels like authentic sibling silliness
3. Night at the (National) Museum by @collectivefandomstuff
Summary: Tim finds himself having, once again, been dragged into the social event of the season. As he slowly dies of boredom and the physical exertion of not rolling his eyes, he bumps into his fellow prisoners brothers and they decide to do something about Bruce’s tendency to trick them into going to these things. More specifically, they decide to cause as much trouble as possible in the hopes that Bruce will just straight up stop inviting them. [cue mission impossible theme]
“We could call in a bomb threat?”
“Ok, then we get paintball guns and go to town.”
“No, wait! That’s actually a good idea!”
“Really Dick? You don’t think people are going to ask questions if the Waynes start literally hunting socialites for sport?”
I. Love. Schemes. also the writing style is so good omg if i could write like this i'd literally die happy lmao
4. Cingulomania (Sometimes, Dad Needs a Hug) by @charleswaterloo
Summary: ‘Right,’ Tim said, in the voice he used on missions, ‘we’re going to have to call in an expert.’
‘Hey guys!’ Dick said, voice slightly crackly over Tim’s phone speakers. ‘What’s up? I’m not supposed to visit until tomorrow - is something wrong?’
Something is seriously not right with Bruce. They’re a family of detectives and no one can figure it out. It’s kind of embarrassing.
They’re all starting to get worried.
(Sometimes, Bruce needs a hug.)
ok this fic is just really fucking sweet and sometimes a bitch is soft okay?
5. After the Fall of Olympus by @/killthespare
Summary: The League has fallen. The team is dead. All that’s left is for Dick Grayson to pick up the pieces and move forward.
Easier said than done.
this fic is literally a must-read in the dc fandom it's not done yet but holy shit. basically goes through young justice and other arcs if the league had died while dick was robin. perfect if you liked young justice and convoluted plotlines, and this fucking fic kicked my emotional ass SO hard
6. And The World Came Crashing Down by @One_annoying_bird
Summary: When Dick and three of his siblings find themselves within the wreckage of a collapsed building, Dick makes the executive decision for himself to be rescued last.
Even if his injuries really demand for him to be first.
Not that he'll let anyone know that last bit.
Fuck me dude. i'm always a sucker for whump
7. Asimov's Integral by @sElkieNight60
Summary: Tim is an unwanted android, a Robo-Child. After being sent back by his parents, his last and only hope rests in the hands of a man still grieving the loss of his own son.
“I didn’t ask for a replacement,” Bruce barked. “I don’t want a replacement! You can go back and tell the RCO I don’t need a replacement.”
Bruce Wayne didn’t want him. If Bruce Wayne didn’t want him, he’d be sent back and dismantled.
this one hurt me <3 android AU, tw for tim absolutely abysmal mental state and attempted suicide
8. Midnight Book Club by @badwolf36
Summary: “Dick is a lying liar who lies,” Jason declares, drawing his knees up to his chest. His ribs are screaming in that very special way that lets him know at least one or more is bruised (or, more likely, cracked).
“Dick wasn’t the only one who turned you in.” Cass says, now tracing ‘moron’ onto his forehead. “Also, Alfred.”
Cass and Jason discuss books as they wait for Jason to be able to stand up after taking a brutal hit.
this one's a really sweet, quiet piece about jason and cass's relationship (which i absolutely love) and cass's characterization is spot on perfect
9. You fuck with them, you fuck with me by @oclark1226
Summary: When Batman's out of the country for Justice League business, it falls on Dick to find his missing brothers. Once he does, however, he nearly loses control fighting their kidnapper. He has to deal with both the mental and physical consequences of that fight while helping his brothers heal. Includes some soft Bruce tending to both of his eldest boys because they need some hugs and they support him in return.
now this one is simply criminally underrated. hella protective dick, which is my lifeblood, and some of the most well-written hurt/comfort i've read
10. Conflict Resolution by @anicomicqueen
Summary: It started off as a quiet Sunday morning, until Timothy and Damian decided to take their argument outside.
who would i be if i didn't end off with some fluff?? this fic is literally catharsis and i cherish it so much plus its hilarious
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I want a fic where Bruce takes Robin!Dick to the olympics.
I want to see Dick sitting in the stands watching the uneven bars, telling Bruce the scores before they’ve even been announced. I want Dick to anxiously approach one of the US gymnasts and tell them they were amazing out there. I want to see them pat him on the head and take a picture with him as if he were just any other fan.
I want a young athlete from another country, maybe the one that got first place that year, to point at him and whisper “That’s Dick Grayson” to a teammate. I want them to ask him if he would take a picture with them. I want to see Bruce beaming pride from behind the camera as his son blushes because someone from the WINNING Olympic team wanted to take a picture with HIM of all people.
I want Dick to come home, exhausted but happy. I want him to stare at the old poster of his parents he keeps framed on his wall and tell them all about how someone at the OLYMPICS wanted to take a picture with HIM. I want him to ask Bruce if he thinks his parents would be proud. I want to see Bruce respond by buying all of that team’s merch and giving it to Dick for his birthday, along with a handwritten letter and framed photograph from the athlete that recognized him.
I want to see Dick remember his parents and connect with Bruce in the same breath.
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Don’t Wait Up (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)
Summary: Y/N has fallen asleep waiting up for Bruce to come home after he told her to go to bed.
Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, minor injuries, fluff
A/N: I wrote this at 3 AM and I have no regrets of that because that is when I am at my softest.
It was almost dawn when the Batmobile finally roared into the cave. Bruce powered down the engine and reclined in the driver’s seat with a deep exhale, his muscles relaxing after an entire night of being tense. He reached up to take off his cowl with a slight groan, a cut on his ribs stretching uncomfortably with the movement.
When he exited the car, he was met by Alfred - which he expected every single night - but also by a sleeping figure huddled up on the dark leather chair in front of the cave’s computer, covered with a blanket. Bruce huffed to himself and smiled slightly as he made his way over to Alfred, who took the cowl from him.
“She just couldn’t help herself, could she?” he said to Alfred as he took off his gloves.
“I told her plenty of times that she should go to bed, but she just wouldn’t listen to me,” Alfred replied. He helped Bruce remove the top of his suit and caught notice of the angry cut that was still oozing blood. “Rough night, Master Bruce?”
“Riddler packs a lot more of a punch than he lets on,” Bruce said with a chuckle. “I expected him to use that staff so often that I wasn’t prepared for him to spring knives on me.”
“Perhaps you should take a break and study up on your most wanted list.”
“Perhaps not. Although the studying sounds like a good idea.”
While Alfred helped Bruce to patch up his injury, he noticed his watching over Y/N’s sleeping form.
“You’re worried about her, aren’t you, sir?” he asked as he rolled the gauze bandage around his ribs Bruce hummed in assent.
“Has she been here long? I told her to not wait up for me before I left.”
“She’s been here the entire time. She kept an eye on the monitors for an hour or two and then fell asleep in the chair. I don’t think even an explosion could wake her up at this point.” Alfred fastened the bandage with a safety pin before making sure that the wound wasn’t going to bleed through.
“You look just as tired, Alfred,” Bruce said to his oldest friend. “Maybe you should head off to bed too.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Good night, Master Bruce.”
“Good night, Alfred.”
After Alfred had left the cave and Bruce had gently washed the sweat off of his skin, he made his way over to Y/N, who was still sleeping soundly in the computer chair. He gently ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek, taking in her peaceful expression.
“Let’s get you to bed, sleeping beauty,” he said softly as he moved to scoop her up into his muscular arms. The sensation of his warm skin on hers instantly made her stir awake.
“Bruce?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep. She could barely open her bleary eyes but she knew that he was there. She couldn’t have mistaken him for anyone else.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said gently. “I told you to not wait up for me.”
“I know, but I don’t like sleeping in the bed without you. It’s too lonely.”
“Well, I’m here now. You can cling on to me as much as you want.” She smiled and nestled closer into his bare chest.
They were both quiet as Bruce carried Y/N through the manor to their bedroom. The house was dead silent and the sun was already beginning to rise outside.
When he finally set her down on the soft mattress, she noticed the bandage on his side and furrowed her brows.
“You’re hurt,” she said simply.
“It’s nothing,” he replied as he tried to place the bedsheets over her.
“It’s clearly not nothing,” she said as she reached out to gently graze her fingers over the bandage. “I don’t like seeing you in bandages.” Bruce sat down on the bed next to her and tenderly kissed her forehead.
“I’m still breathing, still walking, and I’m still here with you now. You have nothing to worry about.” He gathered her up in his arms once more, she made sure to not hold him too tightly.
“I know, but I always worry that you could come home in a much worse state.”
“Alfred patched me up pretty well, so I’m going to be okay for now. I’ll feel even better if we both get some sleep.” He felt her nod against his chest before he moved to lie them both down under the covers.
“Good night, Bruce,” she said quietly, her sleepy voice almost a whisper.
“Good night, honey,” he responded, leaving a final goodnight kiss on the top of her head.
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Should or Shouldn’t
Summary: You find yourself wrongly imprisoned in Arkham Asylum, but no one will listen to you. That is, until a riot breaks out and Batman comes in to help contain it. Your encounter with the Dark Knight could be beneficial for both parties.
Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 5,082
Warnings/Disclaimers: Mentions of violence and mental illness. Light cursing in a couple places. First part is darkish, but the second half is fairly fluffy.
A/N: I have had this one stuck in my head for years now. Always felt like since I didn’t know a lot on the DC/Batman lore that I shouldn’t write anything for it. Then, I said screw it and did it anyways. As long as at least one person enjoys it, I’ll be happy.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be analyzing the data he collected during Arkham Asylum’s latest riot. He should be investigating more closely on how it had started and how it so quickly devolved into pure chaos. Yet, here he was - pulling up the information for a case he had nothing to do with, a case he barely had heard of before that nightmare inducing night. And it was all because of a certain look in your eyes when your gazes locked for the last time as you were led back to your cell.
Slouched, barely able to stay on his feet, Batman’s breath fell into ragged, heavy pants. The skeletons and monsters had finally ceased spawning around him. Deep down, he knew they were inmates bulldozing their way to him with delusional hopes of bringing him to his knees. Scarecrow’s fear toxin was etched into his mind, warping and twisting sight along with sound.
Of course, the antidote he carried with him wasn’t one hundred percent effective against the new strain. While he didn’t think it would kill him, any of the thugs taking advantage of the situation could given his sluggish, mistake-ridden moves.
A hand suddenly gripped his forearm. Brain still on high alert, he whipped around to face his assumed attacker. They were unlike anything the fear toxin had morphed for his eyes before. The light encasing the form hid its features, nearly blinding him as he stared. He felt himself basking frozen in the warmth of it.
“Batman?” A voice echoed softly through him. “Are you alright?”
“I…” He couldn’t speak, phantom grains of sand clinging to his wind pipe.
There was that grip on his arm again, subtly guiding him in a particular direction. Batman should have wrenched himself free of its hold but could not bring himself to do so.
“Come on,” it coaxed. “Let’s get somewhere safe.”
He allowed the figure to lead him away and through a portal out of the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.
Despite being unable to recognize his surroundings, it was easy to keep following the almost angelic being. Its grasp slid down his forearm to his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze periodically. It was always when he felt himself rising to the heavens. He would slow but ultimately pick up speed again to keep up with you.
With one last ascension and a smaller portal, he reached a plateau and nearly collapsed to the ground. The being shifted to take on some of his weight, its light wavering as it held him up. A hard surface met his back, and Batman relaxed for the first time in years, sliding down into a sitting position.
A pair of hands warmed his face, thumbs grazing the sliver of skin his cowl didn’t cover. “It’s safe here. You can rest now.”
Another recent moment when Batman should not have done something and did it anyways. He listened. He let his eyes close, quickly succumbing to sleep.
Distant, echoed shouts infiltrated his ears and broke him of his dreamless slumber. How long had it been since he had slept without being plagued with nightmares? Even with how his muscles burned and ached as he shifted, for the first time in a long while, Batman felt rested. But he couldn’t sit still any longer, not with the inmates yelling frantically about keeping “an eye out for the Bat.” Danger was inevitable so long as the riot continued.
When he opened his eyes, he found you by the window, hidden in the moonlit shadows from outside eyes. He had to surmise you were the one who helped him get here in what was presumably the clock tower (the clear air and the smell of moldy wood was the giveaway). That, however, only raised more questions. You were clearly an inmate. The uniform that did no one any favors hung loose off your body as though the asylum personnel couldn’t be bothered to give you clothing that would fit you better. Why would someone like you aid him?
A grunt slipped through his lips as he re-situated himself against the wall, garnering your attention. The moon shined against your eyes just enough to see the surprise and worry that filled them.
“You’re awake.” The words were soft as you approached him like you would a wounded animal. You stopped when he could see you in better detail but not so close as to make him feel threatened. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine, all things considered.” He cleared the gravel from his throat. “I’ve been through worse.”
Your laugh was hollow. With a dim smile, you backed away and settled underneath the window.
Silence made itself comfortable in between you. Normally, Batman would welcome it with open arms. But right now? He wanted- No. Needed answers.
“Why did you help me?” Although he kept his volume low, the sound felt too loud against his ears.
“Why wouldn’t I?” you quipped, almost offended that Batman would think so little of you.
“Most patients here want me dead,” he worded carefully. “Why would you help me and not them?”
“I’m not most inmates.”
Batman regarded you for a moment. Your eyes were clear, unclouded by the excessive medication that melted you into the mindless, walking blob he had seen you as when he arrived earlier that night. The drugs had to have worn off by now, and there was no additional dose available at the moment.
“I suppose you’re not…”
Why were you prescribed that medicine anyways? You had not yet shown signs of the unhinged violence that would cause the doctors to heavily sedate you on a regular basis. Perhaps that was a side of you he would see later.
“Look, Batman,” you started again, “You’ve done so much good for this city, been its protector when the police could not or would not do anything. Why would I want to mess that up?”
Huh. He hadn’t expected that answer.
“If you feel so strongly about that, then why not go to the guards and try to support them to bring an end to this?”
Your head shook solemnly. “No… I have a ‘history of violence’. They’d only sedate me like usual. And push come to shove, they wouldn’t hesitate to leave me at the mercy of the other inmates to save themselves.”
Batman ground his teeth together. You weren’t necessarily wrong.
“Plus…” You took his hesitancy to answer as a signal to continue. “Most days, I can’t remember my own name. I wanted some time to be able to think and not feel like my head is stuffed with cotton, even if it’s only for a short time. At least up here, I can do that. I’m not helping either side, but I’m not hurting anyone either.
“I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone…” you murmured the last bit.
He barely heard it, but it still managed to sting his heart.
After leaving you in the clock tower, telling you to stay put, Batman didn’t see you again until the riot was done and the guards aided by the police were bringing the inmates back to their cells. You had left the tower, hands held high in surrender as you walked slowly to a couple of shocked guards. They met you halfway, clasping iron grips around your biceps and cuffing your wrists. Surely, your arms would bruise by the time they returned you to your cell. Yet, you neither resisted or flinched from the pain.
Batman abruptly pulled away from his conversation with Commissioner Gordon and made his way to you before you could be taken. The guards attempted to protest at the interruption but were shushed by the hand Batman placed gingerly on your shoulder.
“I just need one moment.”
Hesitantly, the guards released their hold on you and took a step back. He could feel the curious commissioner’s gaze on the two of you. He had followed while keeping a respectable distance that still allowed him to listen to the conversation.
“I never did thank you.”
Your brow furrowed in confusion. The guards behind you mirrored the expression.
“Had you not shown up when you did, I may not be here right now.” With that, he quirked a half smile. “Looks like you did wind up helping after all.”
Your lips were sealed, pressed tightly in a thin line, but your eyes told a different story. Contentment, gratitude, a dash of hope.
“There you are!” One of the doctors bounded up to you, calling out your name. “Good thing I brought your medicine with me!”
Coldness returned to your face, and Batman grimaced at the exuberant, fake grin the doctor sported. He pulled out a vial and syringe from his coat pocket. A flash of fear crossed your features. Batman was the only one to notice.
He angled himself in such a way that let him face the doctor while also acting as a partial shield for you. “Is this necessary?”
“Of course!” The doctor clucked his tongue in annoyance. “Schizoaffective disorders are no laughing matter, especially in this patient’s severe case. I doubt you would like to deal with the consequences of them not being medicated.”
He nodded to the guards who took the unspoken order to take your arms again, this time gently. Batman stepped aside. Aside from knocking the doctor away and essentially kidnapping you, there was nothing he could do but watch as the needle pierced your skin, injecting you with a high dosage of whatever concoction was in the vial.
Then, the guards led you away. You looked back at Batman one more time before your eyes glazed over.
Please… Help me.
The first thing he came across when searching your name was a short news article.
Batman vaguely remembered reading it a few months ago, finding the case somewhat… uninspired. According to the journalist, you pulled a knife on a minor crime boss whose name he recognized. He was one who attracted Batman’s attention while still being fairly harmless. He was a mild annoyance as he kept evading capture. The small part of the Dark Knight’s mind was disappointed that you had not succeeded.
Shaking his head to rid himself of the thought, he dug further into the case files.
The evidence and testimonials were circumstantial at best. And the trial itself? What an absolute mockery of the justice system. The judge, well known in the underbelly of Gotham for accepting bribes, dismissed your alibi, claiming the tapes that showed you working at your meager job at the time of the murder attempt could have been altered. None of your coworkers were asked to come to your defense.
Then, your state-appointed attorney revealed your great aunt had been treated for schizophrenia. Believing it to be inherited through your genetics, he went with an insanity plea against your wishes to get you the “best possible sentence”. The prosecution and judge accepted.
A fire gurgled in Batman’s stomach. Your records before your arrest were practically spotless. Sure, you had been late on a couple of rent payments and had a written warning for speeding. Big deal. Your medical history showed no signs of any mental disorders. The same went for the rest of your blood-related family. That great aunt who had been mentioned? She married in. There were no genetic ties to you.
The more he found on this case, the more ill he felt. When he got to the asylum records, he nearly shattered the keyboard with his fist. He discovered conveniently “damaged” recordings of your therapy sessions. Written documentation stated you had to be sedated every time because you grew hostile with the therapist. The videos showed otherwise. Calling it therapy was just as bad as saying you were given a fair trial. You had only been through a handful of sessions before being assigned high doses of sedatives every day permanently.
“Good morning,” the doctor always began, your name rolling off his tongue like he had tasted something sour.
“Good morning, sir.”
“I hear you have been telling a woven story to the other patients. Mind telling me about that?”
Your next breath came in deep to keep yourself calm. “Is it a story if I’m telling the truth?”
That earned you a hard, backhanded slap that left your lips bruised and bleeding.
“The truth is that you tried to murder an upstanding citizen of Gotham, correct?”
The doctor’s harsh tone would make most people cower away. You, however, did not.
“Wrong,” you spat.
Another blow that would definitely leave a mark.
“Choose your words wisely before we choose them for you,” he growled.
“You already have.” Your statement was firm with a hint of despair. “It’ll take a lot more to stop me from telling the real truth, not the one you’ve chosen.”
The doctor shot to his feet and turned away to the counter to prepare your medicine. “You know, this would not be happening right now if you had just accepted Milan’s proposition.”
“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I should have just been his little whore after he pulled me into that alley. Right. Makes a lot of sense.”
He returned to you, violently snatching your chin to reveal more of your neck. He plunged the needle into your skin which wiped the scowl from your face.
That was where the final video ended.
Batman leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. Now he had more information to further his investigation. If he was going to prove you were a mere scapegoat, he would need to gather more evidence and place it in the right hands, Commissioner Gordon’s to be specific. From there, he could massage the system to ensure the dirty money didn’t make its way back into the appeal process.
This would take some time, but Bat- No… Bruce would be damned if he was going to let an innocent person rot away in Arkham Asylum.
Bruce kept to himself at the back of the courtroom. He should have been attending meetings at Wayne Enterprises, but seeing as his company helped to found the Arkham Rehabilitation Program for those released from Arkham Asylum, he felt it was appropriate for him to be here each day to watch the trial progress. Besides, he had Lucius Fox and his son Tim to handle the business.
The billionaire was pleased to see you make it this far. Once your assigned doctor had been caught laundering money through the asylum, you had been given a new one who was significantly more trustworthy and genuinely wanted to help the patients. She had reinstated your sessions and gradually weaned you off the excessive medication. After being re-evaluated, you were moved to a new wing away from the criminally insane.
Gordon himself was present the day you were offered an appeal, bringing along a new attorney and revealing evidence, which just happened to appear on his desk, that would more than likely ensure your freedom. You gave another statement, one that was consistent with your original and the therapy sessions. You had met this Milan person at a bar and made small talk before declaring you were not interested. That was when you left. Barely a few blocks away, Milan caught up with you and dragged you into an alley. Putting up a good fight, you had managed to overpower him and run home. Your only real mistake had been not calling the police to document the attack.
The day Milan was brought into the courtroom for his testimony in front of a new judge was both amusing and infuriating for Bruce. The amount of rage that filled the man upon seeing you unmedicated and nearly free in the room was smugly satisfying, even more so when he fumbled under questioning on both sides. As the story kept evolving and backtracking, the truth that was inline with your version of events was brought to light. Milan was furious that you had rejected and humiliated him. For that, he went to his boss for help in formulating revenge.
This minor crime boss, the one who had been the “victim” in the attempted murder, was just as petty as his underlings and had no qualms framing an innocent person with a crime that had never been committed. It didn’t take much for them to get what they wanted - a call to the police, a knife with smudged prints from a hand close to your size and some well placed bribes. To be honest, the money had done most of the work.
Bruce didn’t bother to hide his grin on the last day of the trial. Months of work and you were finally declared innocent and administered into the rehabilitation program. You would have a new therapist who would help you re-insert yourself into society, an apartment to call home and a job at Wayne Enterprises to support yourself.
You had started off in the mail room, organizing and delivering letters and packages to various employees. That included Bruce which gave him the chance to hold short conversations with you to see how you were doing. Ultimately, it allowed him to get to know you better.
Kinder than most, you were always going above and beyond your job requirements, especially if it significantly helped one of your coworkers. It was that sort of attitude that boosted your evaluations in the program and completed it in record time. You were able to rise through the ranks and eventually found yourself in HR as an assistant. From there, your tasks ranged enough to constantly keep you on your toes - planning employee benefits and events, introducing new hires into the work environment, managing safety protocols, etc. Had you the right degrees, you could feasibly be the next HR director.
Bruce was on his way to your desk when he ran into you. Well, it was more like you ran into him. You were flipping through sealed pay stubs, reorganizing them to keep the next department’s delivery together, and hadn’t paid attention when you rounded the corner. Luckily for you, you had kept hold of your documents when you essentially face planted into the CEO’s broad chest. It was a better alternative to the cliche of a stack of papers being flung about the hall.
“M-Mr. Wayne!” you stumbled, hopping a couple steps back for a more appropriate distance between you. “I am so sorry! I wasn’t paying one bit of attention. Are you alright?”
He chuckled and flashed his signature, award-winning smile. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who was almost knocked to the floor.”
You frowned, worrying your bottom lip. “Still. I should have been looking where I was going.”
“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” His eyes softened with a genuine warmth that melted some of the tension from your shoulders. “Besides, I was on my way to your desk, so this works out nicely.”
Your muscles tightened again like you were waiting for him to reprimand you for some trouble you had caused.
“I just wanted to give you this.” He pulled out the envelope tucked away in his suit jacket. “I’m sure you know about the celebration we are holding in a couple of weeks in honor of those who have been a part of the Arkham Rehabilitation Program. It would be an honor if you could attend.”
Gingerly taking the invitation he held out, you held it like a piece of fine china that could shatter at any moment. “I- I appreciate it, Mr. Wayne. I just don’t know if-”
“Please,” he interrupted. Clearing his throat of desperation, he continued, “There have only been a handful of patients who have made it into the program, and you have been a shining example of how this program can be beneficial. I would love it if you could be there.”
He probably should have reworded that last part, but he was being honest with you.
You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you tilted your head and looked him over with a gaze of analytical curiosity piercing his own.
The sides of your mouth twitched and curled into a half smile that made his heart hammer in his chest. “Alright, Mr. Wayne. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. I look forward to seeing you there.”
You then proceeded with your previous task to hand out pay stubs, leaving Bruce alone to wonder what exactly just happened.
He quickly returned to his office and flopped into his chair. His calloused fingers scratched against his face and scalp as he tried to bring himself back down to reality.
This feeling had completely blindsided him. Why had it developed so suddenly?
No. It wasn’t spontaneous. It had been there all along, hadn’t it? The seed had been planted the moment you revealed yourself at the asylum, the moment you had come to help him.
Well… At least he had a couple of weeks to prepare himself. He should be able to get his emotions under control by them.
He should have prepared more.
It was the night of the gala. Bruce was already sweating, and all he was trying to do was put on a tie. He was so focused on his fumbling fingers he barely recognized the click of his door opening and closing.
“Master Wayne,” Alfred announced himself as Bruce turned to see him approaching with helpful intentions.
Dick had followed him in, opting to lean against the door with a teasing smirk. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Bruce defended a little too quickly before surrendering the tie to Alfred’s deft fingers.
“You look like a teenager on prom night trying to get up the nerve to ask their crush to dance,” Dick quipped.
“A juvenile analogy but accurate all the same.” Alfred kept his smirk low key as he assisted his employer. “Could this be about a particular patient you had been helping?”
Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. Of course, Alfred would know exactly what was happening. Can’t keep anything a secret from that man.
“And if it is?”
“Then I respectfully suggest you pull yourself together, go out there and ask this lovely person for a dance.” Alfred straightened the tie and stepped back. “And while you are at it, express your thoughts about them.”
A gravelly sigh left Bruce. He was right but damned if he didn’t make it sound so easy.
“And maybe some extra cologne.”
Bruce almost couldn’t find you amongst the throng of people. You had managed to sneak your way in while he was distracted with the other guests. It wasn’t until almost an hour in that he spied you off near a corner with a small beverage in hand. With one last tweak to his tie, the billionaire weaved through the crowd to you.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he neared you, sporting a friendly smirk.
You hid your own smile behind your glass. “I could say the same for you, Mr. Wayne. Your conversation with Mrs. Windell seemed particularly riveting.”
An unadulterated laugh escaped him. “Please, call me ‘Bruce’.”
“Alright, Bruce.” You were willing to continue the conversation. That was a good sign. “So tell me, what do these events usually entail?”
“Well, it’s fairly straightforward. The introductory speech will begin…” He checked his watch and attempted to hide his exasperated expression. Of course, he would have to leave so soon. “Shortly. Then some mingling, dinner and more mingling with some dancing.”
“How exciting.” A playful smirk tugged on your lips. “Glad I carved out time in my busy schedule of Netflix and reading.”
“Why do you think I try to find a way out of these?” Bruce teased back.
You shifted to face him better. “Couldn’t find something better this time?”
There was a muted tapping on the microphone, revealing Quincy Sharp ready to announce the speech Bruce was supposed to give in just a moment.
“Didn’t want to,” he spoke lowly before heading for the small stage.
You had disappeared again. He should have kept a better eye on you towards the end of the speech, though he wasn’t shocked to see you had fled the limelight. Perhaps highlighting you and your accomplishments wasn’t the best idea if he wanted to speak with you more tonight. Physically pointing you out while doing so probably didn’t help much either.
He meandered through the socialites in hopes of spotting you before anyone else scared you off. It wasn’t until dinner was served that he found you sitting at a table in a far away corner already fully occupied. Not that he’d be able to join you there anyways. He was expected to sit elsewhere with assigned seating.
His hands shoved in his pockets like a pouting child, he moved to turn away but managed to lock eyes with you. The corners of his mouth curled upwards without him even having to think. You warmly mirrored him before being pulled away into a conversation with the stranger neighboring you. The smile remained but turned awkward and forced. There wasn’t much Bruce could do but take his place next to Sharp.
Taking his seat, he quickly discovered he had the perfect line of sight. Throughout the dinner, your gazes kept meeting, both accidentally and on purpose. Accidental in the sense that minds wandered easily and on purpose in the sense of needing reprieve from boring, sleep-inducing conversation. Dick, who had a seat directly next to Bruce, would accidentally knock elbows with him and show off the world’s worst apologetic smile. On the other side of his eldest son, Tim would only send him a teasing smirk that Bruce always managed to catch. He would never hear the end of it if he didn’t speak with you again and ask you for at least a coffee or lunch date. And if it wasn’t his sons, Alfred would passive-aggressively take up the reins.
When the tables were cleared, Bruce looked up hoping to catch your attention, but you were gone once more. How did you keep doing that? He was Batman, the world’s greatest detective and he couldn’t keep tabs on one civilian?
A light swat to the shoulder snapped him back to the present. Dick and Tim stood side-by-side next to him with teeth showing grins.
“Stop worrying so much! You’ll find ‘em,” Dick encouraged.
The billionaire revered them for a moment. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “What did you two do?”
“Nothing~!” Dick singsonged.
Bruce stepped forward, about to go into father mode, when Tim piped up. “Where do you usually go when you need to hide for a few minutes?”
This made him freeze mid step. It was so obvious… The balcony tucked away near the back of the venue.
“We may or may not have let your future partner in on that little secret.” His eldest still held a smarmy smile.
“Future partner?” Bruce could only pinch his brow and suck in a deep breath. “You know what? We’ll talk about this later,” he half-heartedly growled as he turned on his heel to head to his not-so-secret spot.
The pair of adult men (by appearance only) fist bumped despite the lecture they would surely receive later on messing with their adoptive father’s love life.
Reaching the tiny balcony meant for a few people at most, Bruce found you leaning on the railing in the corner. With a light tap on the glass door to announce his presence, he stepped outside to you.
“Got a bit tired of conversing with some of the most boring people in Gotham?” He slipped into the spot next to you, overlooking the seemingly peaceful nightlife.
“I suppose you could say that, Mr. Wayne,” you frowned with a sigh.
“Bruce, please.” He smiled but couldn’t bring himself to chuckle. “What was it, really?”
“I guess…” you started. “I don’t know, Bruce. I guess I just got sick of answering the same questions. ‘What was it like being an Arkham patient?’ ‘What was the worst thing that happened to you there?’ ‘Did being in the asylum cause you to go mad?’” Your head hung low as you shook it. “Once or twice… Maybe a few times I could handle it, but when it’s every five minutes? It was too much.”
Bruce reached out, covering your hand with his on the railing. “I’m sorry. The speech could have been toned down some. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had so many people trying to converse w-”
“I don’t think it was the speech,” you stopped him, your free hand landing on his forearm. “I- I think it’s been building up over time. First it was the paparazzi around the trial, then it was coworkers. The past few months have been fine. This just kind of brought it all back…”
“I wish I had known about all of that. I would have helped you.” He squeezed your fingers. “I still can.”
You, in turn, grasped his forearm a little tighter. “I’m sure… I know. Just… You’ve already done so much. Getting out of that place is more than I could have ever hoped for. I can’t ask for more.”
“You don’t have to.” Bruce pulled away only to bring you into his embrace, his head burying itself into your hair. “You’re not alone in this.”
Hesitant arms wrapped around his torso. “Thank you,” came a tiny muffled voice as you curled into him more.
The warmth you two shared kept the random gusts of wind from making you shiver, but Bruce could still tell the air was on the chilly side. He didn’t want to let go just yet. In the end, it was your decision. It didn’t seem to take much longer for that though.
“As nice as this is,” you leaned back enough to look at him, “we should head back inside.”
Bruce chuckled softly. “You’re probably right. Better to show up before they find us.”
You broke apart but kept a pair of hands linked.
“Any chance I could persuade you for a dance.” Bruce glided a thumb across your knuckles.
“Mmm… I don’t know,” you snickered. “I’m sure I’ll have to entertain more guests and their questions. Gonna be pretty busy with that.”
“Not enough time for even one?”
“I’ll see what I can do, Bruce.”
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Red Knights Rising: Chapter 2
Title: Red Knights Rising
Pairing: Vampire!Jason Todd x Reader, Hunter Tim Drake x Reader (platonic)
Warnings: Cursing, past major character death, blood, a little bit angsty, fluff.
Summary: You grew up with Tim. He was your best friend and confidant. But what happens when you run into his step brother Jason Todd? Tim always warned you to stay away from him. One night you find out exactly why Tim hated Jason so much.
Chapter 1 | Masterlist
Thanks for all the love on chapter one. Please let me know if you would like to be added to the Taglist (:
Chapter 2: Wasted Worries
It was cold. Freezing in fact. Even though you could tell you had a blanket over your body. Your entire body felt so numb. The familiar beeping sound of a heart monitor brought you back to reality. You tried to open your eyes, but a bright light shined into your eyes, so you immediately squeezed them shut.
“Y/N?” You heard a voice ask.
“You stay away from her!” A voice yelled. There was a light scuffle as someone sat up from a chair next to you.
“I was just making sure she is okay.”
“She wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you.”
“Tim calm down. He’s not hurting her.”
You opened your eyes slightly to see three boys standing next to your bed. You instantly recognized you were inside the makeshift hospital room inside the Batcave. Dick had his arms wrapped around Tim’s shoulder, holding him back. Standing in front of him was Jason, looking somewhat defeated.
“Whats to stop me from ending you right now. Your kind shouldn’t even be allowed to roam the streets. You’re a monster.” Tim said angrily.
Dick stood in front of Jason and looked Tim in the eye angrily. “Enough. You and I both know Jason didn’t mean to hurt her.”
Once your eyes were able to adjust to the lights, you opened your eyes fully to watch the boys argue in front of you. Dick was the first to notice.
“Y/N!” He called out, running towards you. Tim was right behind him while Jason stood watching him from afar. You smiled at your best friend, trying to somewhat break the tension that was still in the room.
“Y/N, how are you feeling?” Tim asked.
“Cold. It’s always so cold down here.” You said as you tried to sit up. The room started to spin and you squeezed your eyes shut before falling back down into your pillow.
“Woah, slow down. You lost a lot of blood.” Tim said, carefully helping you fluff your pillows so you could get into a seating position.
You poked your head up so you could look for third body in the room.
He was gone.
You turned your attention back to Tim. “Why didn’t you tell me Tim? All this time I thought you were just being a baby.”
He sighed and pinched his brows. “I didn’t think you needed to know.”
“Um I would have liked to know that one of your brothers, someone who you see on a semi daily basis, was a vampire. A being that you were born and raised to hunt.” A being I have been fascinated with since the beginning of time. You left that last part out.
“I was trying to protect you. Look what he did to you Y/N. He almost…” Tim couldn’t finish his sentence. Tears started to fall from his eyes as he let out sob he couldn’t hold in.
You sighed and reached out to rub his shoulder. “I’m okay Timbers.” That was Tim’s nickname when you two were growing up together. It was a name that comforted him.
Tim looked up, his eyes brimming with tears.
You and Tim were close. You were both the only children of two wealthy families who never had time for kids. So you two took care of each other. Watched over one another. Siblings from different parents.
“W-when I saw him feeding on you… The amount of blood on his face. Y-you were so cold. So pale… I just thought…” Tim was outwardly sobbing now. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you, sobbing into your hair.
“I’m okay, Timbers. I promise.”
You rubbed soothing circles into his back. Letting him release his fear. You knew if you were in his situation you would be acting the same way. Probably worse.
After that incident, Tim never let you out of his sight.
He picked you up from school, dropped you off, even went with you to art showings. It was cute at first, but when he started waiting for you in front of the bathroom you knew he was being a little over protective.
“Timmy.” You said annoyed as you were greeted by him waiting by your front door, ready to take you to school.
He smiled innocently at you. “Ready for school?”
“I can take myself to school you know.” You said rolling your eyes as you leaned against the door frame. “Plus, my first class got canceled. I don’t need to go in until 5 today.”
“Okay then, I can just meet you back here at 4.”
“No Tim. I am taking myself to school today.” You said, raising your voice a little. You crossed your arms together and glared up at him. “You’re treating me like a child. What happened with Jason was an accident. I can take care of myself you know.”
Tim sighed. He knew he was just being overprotective. But after what happened, he felt like he was responsible. But you were right.
“Fine. How about we meet for dinner then? My treat? We can go to that taco place you love so much.”
You smiled at his comment. Glad that he was finally giving up on his overprotective big brother routine. You gave him a hug goodbye and waved him off.
“And next time, can you bring the Bently, I’m sick of being so close to the ground.” You joked.
Tim smiled and waved goodbye, before disappearing down the hall.
It was nearly nightfall when you got out of class. You were walking towards the rideshare parking lot, not paying much attention to the people around you. Tim texted you letting you know there was an emergency in Gotham and that he couldn’t make it to dinner. That meant you had to call an uber home.
As you passed the science building, you heard a voice call out your name.
You turned around to see your ex-boyfriend running towards you. You immediately turn your head and started walking in the opposite direction.
“I don’t want to talk to you Mark.” You said to him without turning around.
Once he caught up with you he grabbed your wrist, forcing you to turn around. “Common baby, I just want to explain…”
Tears were falling from your eyes now. “Explain? Explain how you had your tongue shoved up that girls throat?”
“She came on to me I swear. Look just give me another chance.”
Your pulse was rising, you could feel anger seeping through your body. You tried to walk away but his grasp on your wrist was firm.
“Let go of me Mark.”
“Common baby please.”
“The lady said no.” Came a voice from nowhere.
You turned around to see none other than Jason Todd standing a few feet from you. Mark narrowed his gaze and squeezed your wrist tighter.
“Keep walking bro. This is none of your business.”
Mark took his eyes off Jason, but in the blink of an eye, Jason had his hand around Mark’s wrist.
“Let her go.” He growled, tightening his grip. Mark yelped and jumped back in pain. He was about to retaliate, but with a glare from Jason, he backed off. You could have swore, you saw Jason’s eyes turn slightly purple.
“Fine.” He said, sending a glared your way. “Have it your way.” He spit in your direction and looked you up and down. “Tiffany is a better kisser anyways.” He walked away in a huff.
You held your wrist to your chest. Rubbing the soreness away. A few tears escaped your eyes.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked.
You backed away when he moved towards you. He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands up in defense. “Sorry. I know you're probably still terrified of me. I’ll just go.”
He started to walk away when you felt a little tingle in your body. Like, a part of you didn’t want him to leave.
“Wait!” You called out.
Jason turned around in surprise. He tilted his head in confusion. Your heart fluttered. It was an adorable look on him.
You took a few steps towards him and looked down at your feet. “Um, thank you.” You looked up and smiled shyly at him. “That could have ended badly. Mark… Well, Mark has a temper.”
Jason just stared at you, unable to form words. You blushed as your eyes met. His blue eyes were back. They looked nothing like the bright red eyes the night he attacked you.
Jason turned away when he noticed your cheeks turn pink. Tim always warned him to stay away from you. He never wanted to be on bad terms with him, so, he did. But there was always something about you that made him gravitate towards you. “You’re welcome.” He said with a smirk.
The color on your cheeks only deepened. “Um well. Thanks again. I’m going to go call a car now. I’ll see you around?”
You didn’t really wait for Jason’s reply. Waving goodbye you started to walk away when Jason’s voice stopped you.
“Do you need a ride?” He asked.
You turned in surprise. That was the last thing you expected to hear from him. He looked at you innocently. He was definitely not the same man as the person that attacked you that night. A part of you wanted to just turn around and go home. But the other part of you, was curious. Tim never let Jason near you so you never really got to know what kind of person he really was. He also did just save you from your disgusting ex. Who knows that he would have done if Jason didn’t step in. You looked around and saw there was nearly no one around. If he really wanted to hurt you he would have done it by now.
You studied him for a second. You never really met him outside of the Batcave so he was always in his Red Hood outfit. Today, he was just wearing a simple dark gray tee shirt, with a black leather jacket, and a dark blue pair of jeans. You wiped a bit of drool from your mouth as you noticed how tight the t-shirt was around his abs You could only imagine how he looked like underneath the thin fabric.
He looked: Normal. Nothing about him screamed vampire or vigilante. It was strange.
Your silence made him nervous. “I mean, you don’t have too. It’s just that I’m headed towards that side of town, so I just thought I would offer.” A tinge of pink painted his face. Of all the things in the world to make the Red Hood blush: a simple human girl.
You chucked and ignored the fact that he knew what part of town you lived in, because he was a Bat, of course he knew. Normally you were a very cautious person, but it wasn’t like Jason was a stranger. You have basically known him for years at this point.
You smiled at him softly and nodded. “Sure. I’d like that.”
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Birds of a feather, stuck together. Jason Todd x fem!reader slow burn
Summary: Three years after Joker throws you into a cell, he throws another Robin in with you. A boy Robin
A/N: Had a burst of inspiration, so have gotten the first part of this ready pretty quickly. Thanks to everyone who has shown an interest in this from the fic ramble! This fic is based on a combination of the arkhamverse, titans, and a deep dive on the internet.
Tags/warnings: 18+ because of explicit violence, rape, torture, canon typical gotham shenanigans, use of gas and toxins, gaslighting, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, enemies to friends to lovers, not batman friendly, alfred pennyworth is the best human in gotham.
You don't try to get up when the door opens, focusing on the pain in your ribs instead to try and quell the sense of uncontrollable panic.
In the beginning, you would rush the door every time it opened, trying to escape. It didn't matter how badly you were injured already; you'd fight your way out and make it through as many of Joker's men as you could. One time you'd even gotten out into the next corridor. It was always only a matter of time though. You were beaten. Every single time.
Now? You were pretty sure he left the door unlocked sometimes. Another test. There was always another test. You did your best to pass them these days. It wasn't worth the consequences if you didn't. You'd learned that the hard way. There was no escaping the consequences.
There's a pause. He's waiting for you to look up. He doesn't need to tell you anymore, his conditioning setting your nerves on edge. Look up.
You meet the bright green eyes of the Joker, and he smiles wide. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest setting off tremors in yours. You didn't know what he was going to do, but you knew you weren't going to wait long to find out. There was no predicting the mad clown's moves. You'd learned that the hard way too.
A henchmen's clomping footsteps grow louder against the stone floor, only one. Unperturbed, Joker keeps his eyes on you. A reaction then; He wants to see your reaction. It must be something big, or he would just watch the monitor from the camera in the corner of your cell.
You would think after all this time, that surely, he must have elicited every response possible from you by now. But time after time he proved you wrong. Each time worse than the one before.
He moves slightly to allow the goon into the doorway which is when you realise that it’s Big Paulie. He is carrying something. You can only catch a glimpse of it in your peripheral vision at first, unable to be the first to look away - he didn't like it when you did that. A short nod of his approval sends relief shooting through your spine and he glances pointedly to his lackey.
Paulie throws it - a body, you quickly realise - into your cell with a thud. It's been years, but you would recognise the green and red of the unconscious lump anywhere. It's a Robin.
Panic. Panic and fear and anger rip through your mind making you flinch violently. You whimper, recoiling away from the body to push yourself tight against the wall, raw emotion taking over.
The sight of the suit alone made you want to be sick, an unwelcome reminder of everything that had landed you in your current predicament. The nausea boiling over into rage at the thought of the man responsible for ruining your life. Batman.
The fucking Bat had let another Robin get taken, like cannon fodder for his sick and twisted game with the Joker. This poor bastard kid didn't stand a chance.
And the Joker dumping his prize at your feet like it meant something - of course it meant something, everything he did meant something - a test. Another test. Oh God. What was he going to make you do?
Nausea curdled in the pit of your stomach. He had put you through some unspeakable, unimaginable things in the past, but something told you this was going to be the worst ordeal yet. Were you meant to kill him? No, Joker would want to do that for himself. It would probably be a kindness if you did kill him, but did he deserve kindness? He worked with the Bat. He was your replacement. He didn’t deserve shit. But why did he put him in with you? There were other cells, you’d seen them before. Mr J must be expecting something to happen. But what?
Joker began to cackle, no doubt amused by your turmoil. It takes another moment before you can tear your eyes away from the Kevlar. You look up at him and there must be something in your expression that amuses him because he laughs even harder at you. He turns away from you to leave, having had his fill.
"Mr J - Sir?" The honorific slips out. A nervous tick. You hate how pathetic your voice sounds but you needed some kind of hint; a clue or instruction so you knew how to pass this impossible test. Mr J – Sir, why is he here? What do I do?”
Joker doesn't turn back, ignoring your pleading as he walks away. His laughter ringing in your ears as they exit, leaving you alone with an unconscious body and your swirling thoughts.
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steph: john mulaney is single now you know
tim: oh my god really?
steph: yeah so if you don’t mind i have to break up with you so i can marry him
tim: bold of you to assume i won’t get him first
dick: the queen is single now too
jason, across the room, drowning in whiskey: god, i hate this family
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CUTE SUIT B.W.
Summary: Bruce was adorable, no matter how badly he didn’t want to be
Warning: allllll the soft fluff
A/N: This is probably the shortest fic I’ve ever written but I got the idea while playing telltale so a little jam packed fluff for soft sunday
Word Count: 800
The batcave was the least warm and welcoming place inside the manor. Cold, dingy, noises that you couldn't put a name to and didn't particularly want to. Yet, some of your fondest memories with Bruce were in that cave. Late night - or early morning was more accurate - chats, hours of 'training' that nearly always ended up with you naked against the mats, and as simple as keeping him company as he worked.
Bruce became a different person when he was in the cave, he showed his real self. Falling for him came in two parts - the billionaire and the bat. Sometimes that love got intertwined, mostly it seemed like you were dating two separate people. Neither of which you could live without.
To no surprise, Bruce was leaning back in his chair in front of the massive bat computer. The screen showed that he was halfway through a download. His suit was on, and you weren't sure if he was coming back from a night out or ready to begin it. Eyes closed, though you were sure that he could hear your footsteps near.
His head tilted to lean against the back of his chair as your hands landed on his shoulders. The cowl was up, making it hard to read what he was thinking - not that it was easy to begin with. Bruce swallowed hard as your fingers trailed up his neck and along his jaw. He finally popped his eyes open.
"I know the costume is supposed to be scary, but I gotta say Bruce, the little ears look adorable," you teased, flicking one of the ears on his cowl. A grin was on your face at his reaction. Bruce spun the chair around so he could face you. His strong arms latched around your waist before tugging you onto his lap.
"This suit," Bruce narrowed his eyes. There was no way that you had just called him cute while in the Batman gear - the last thing that he was supposed to be was cute. "Induces fear in every single criminal in Gotham and you're calling it cute?" You nodded at your repeated statement.
To be honest, he was glad to hear you say that. Bruce never wanted you to fear him, in or out of the suit. He tried his best not to act as if he was the one who broke bones and left people half dead on the streets when he was near you but it was hard at times. To have you admit that all you could see was the Bruce you loved under that mask made him relieved.
The pad of your thumb glided over his visible facial features, admiring him entirely. Bruce pressed against your back, urging for you to lean ahead and kiss him. Always the one to be demanding just one more kiss, something he would never admit. His lips were chapped, a day old split prominent against your own too.
Your fingers were cold against his cheeks. He didn't object as your fingers curled under the cowl to pull it off. Blue eyes that had made you fall in love in the first place finally stared back at you. His hair was tousled, even more so when you dragged your fingers through it, finally landing at the back of his neck.
"No matter what kind of facade you have to put up, you're always going to be the Bruce I fell in love with," you promised him. "I know you, Bruce, the real you. I know I have no reason to fear Batman, or the man under it."
"I love you, (Y/N)," Bruce pecked your lips. "I-" His computer beeped before he could speak once more. A sigh tore through you. Though your moments together were often short, they held meaning. As you tried to pull yourself off his lap, Bruce stopped you. His arms tightened around you and prevented escape. "No, it can wait."
"Are you sure? I know you're busy, my love." Leaving was something you were used to, it came part of the Bruce Wayne package. Today was no different, if Batman had work to do, then your moments with your boyfriend would have to wait. Saving people came first, always.
"It can wait," he repeated. It couldn't, really. The whole reason he was in the suit was to be able to leave the moment those files decrypted. Instead, he found himself wanting to have just a few more moments with you. His heart warmed at the smile that spread across your face. "Now, tell me again how you think this suit is adorable?"
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"A Bit Drunk But Still Fine."
Part 3 of We Flock Together, my Bruce Wayne x Black!OC series. No long rambles, let's get this shit.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Black!fem!OC
Rating: T for teen
Warning: suggestive conversation, hinted nefarious magicians, hinted abuse, and Stockholm syndrome. Yandere Bruce Wayne
Masterlist is pinned
The sound of stifled giggling chipped away at Bruce’s subconsciousness until sleeping in became a lost cause. The blinds blocked most of the morning light trying to brighten the room, but a small sliver made it through to land directly on his face. Next to him was his caged bird, cocooned in the blankets she insisted he kept on the bed now that winter would settle in any day. His vision went from bleary to focused when he noticed the restrained shake in her shoulders.
“What has you up early on a Sunday?” His rough voice traveled through the hills and valleys separating their bodies until it reached her pierced ears. Dove peered slightly to confirm his awakened state, only to turn away from the eye contact with a small gasp. “Hmm, Dove?”
The morning noise had been her acrylics typing loudly against the screen of her phone, followed by the sound of a message being sent. Whoever existed on the other side of the conversation responded within a minute and was the source of Dove’s amusement.
“Dove,” She looked back over to see Bruce inclined, held up by his thick forearms. “Who are you talking to?” She bit at her cheek, a nervous habit of hers that emerged after her first week in the manor. “I’m just curious.”
“Dick has been teaching Kori about memes and gifs, and now she won’t stop using them even though Dick asked her to calm down,” Her brown eyes snapped up to look at his reaction before continuing her sentence. “And I’ve been sending her new ones to use but Dick doesn’t know so now he’s demanding Kori to tell him where she keeps getting them from.”
“Wow.” The syllable left his lips without thought. He didn’t anticipate this outcome a month ago. Bruce couldn’t identify what the feeling building in his chest could be. The only thing he knew for certain was that she looked lovely with a smile so early in the morning. And he had an idea on how to make that expression last a little bit longer. “What’s a meme?”
Dove’s mouth shot off without hesitation, pulling her warm phone from under her cocoon to show example after example. Bruce chanced a lean, feigning it to see the screen better, and felt the warmth in him rise when she didn’t move in the opposite direction. Her lecture would be interrupted periodically with the notifications from the group chat. And every so often, when the conversation would lull and she looked close to getting up to start her Sunday, Bruce would ask another question to get his bird to chirp again.
Let the record show that Bruce Wayne, the aloof billionaire, and secret crimefighter, already knew what a meme was.
Only when Dove finally looked at the clock on her nightstand did the woman shuck the blankets off and get up from their shared bed to begin her routine. The warmth she left could not replace her actual body and the residual smells from her hair and body that had become infused with the silk sheets did not make up for the absence of the source.
Bruce joined her in the closet not long after she left, hopeful to continue what they started in the bed. “You make me feel so old sometimes.”
She huffed a laugh. His jokes have been landing more times than not recently. “I promise you, no old man looks like you do or does what you can.”
The sight of her brown skin being tinged with a deeper undertone of red made him preen. Ever since the carnival night that had Dick dragging Dove and Kori back to the manor, Bruce has noticed a difference. He noticed that night after the gala had ended and the house cleaned of all evidence of outsiders were once inside his home. Bruce met the trio in the foyer, eager to have his precious bird back in her cage. And his prize did not mind. She still did not mind. It was as if Dick brought home a new bird, a tamed bird, to his mentor.
“You don’t have to spare my feelings. There’s nothing wrong with being older.”
“You’re only in your thirties, Bruce. Besides,” Dressed in a simple set of sweats, Dove glided to his side of the closet and laid a hand upon his cheek. “I think older men are so sexy.”
Stormy eyes narrowed in suspicion. This was the first time in a long time she’d come on to him under her own sober will. There had been countless incidents since Dove began living with him, where the contents of her glass would be low but her libido high. Slowly, he wrapped his large limbs around her cinched waist. Already, he could feel his fingertips itch to trace her shape down to those wide hips he adored so much.
“Oh, is that so?” Dove nodded.
“Especially older men that are as strong as you, Bruce. I bet you can pick me up without breaking a sweat.” Pearly teeth became exposed to the cold morning air as Dove’s body was hoisted into the air before landing on the table in the middle of the room. Her sweats did little to cushion her landing, her lips parted to let out a short squeal.
“Anything else you want me to do to you?” Pale hands twisted the hem of her sweatshirt as the question sunk in. His focus was completely on her lips, though it did dip down to her chest every time she breathed. Caution still filled his bones. A month ago, Dove would never entertain him like this. A month ago, she would rather bathe in acid than let his hands caress her brown skin. A month ago, his caged bird would not be leaning in closer to peck his cheek.
Now, in the closet of their shared room, Dove was letting him kiss and nip and suck at her plump lips to his heart’s content. Now, she moaned at every touch and sighed from every squeeze. Now, she embraced him like he’s always fantasized, pressing her body against his with excitement he could relate to.
Bruce groaned as her clothed legs, legs he knew were just as silky smooth as the rest of her, rose up and wrapped around his waist. He grabbed under a knee and yanked, pulling the rest of Dove with it, to rub his quickly hardening crotch against hers.
At the feel of him pressing into her, Dove broke the kiss but did little else to dissuade Mr. Wayne from turning his lips to her neck. “Oh, Bruce…”
“Yes?” The words seared itself to her skin. Dove could feel the fog surrounding them thicken. Bright yellow claws combed through Bruce’s unruly bed head, stopping right before his nape to gently pry the man off his dear bird.
“I’m sure Alfred is waiting for us with breakfast.” He conceded and backed away. Even though his heart and flesh begged him not to, Bruce knew logically it would be bad to keep going against her hint. If Dove wanted to slow down, he could do that. He would do that…
Dove was proved right ten minutes later. Alfred did have a generous display of breakfast food waiting on them. As well as coffee and infused water. Breakfast went down as a quiet affair, broken up by the unfinished war in the group chat Dove had masterminded.
“-telling them that there was no way I would allow our technology into the hands of some pompous overgrown manchild for a couple billion.” Dove nodded along as Bruce ranted, not at all understanding the situation but content to witness the stoic Bruce Wayne show some color for once.
“Who do they think they are?”
“Exactly what I was-” The conversation had been cut in by the sound of a call coming in on Dove’s phone. She pouted and looked away, knowing how both men felt about a phone at the dining table. “Its okay, answer it. I have to do some work in the cave, anyway.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly but she waited before Bruce had made his way to the discrete entrance of his cave before turning to look at her phone.
“Dove!” The excited alien princess called out. Her green eyes took in the setting of her friend’s location. “Are you at the table? I can later, I know that Mr. Wayne is not fond of outside communication during meals.”
“No, it’s okay. He said it was okay. What’s up?” Alfred’s mouth twitched while he cleaned up the used dishes and utensils. This was the girl Bruce raved about in the beginning. Talkative and full of life, not barbed and withdrawn like what he’s seen during her stay. The change in attitude breathed new life into the manor.
As the two chatted, Dove moved from the table to the den, where a roaring fire already awaited her. Down below, Bruce had become engaged in his own conversation. The computer in front of him had surveillance tapes from over a month ago rolling, the master detective watched with careful eyes for what he was looking for.
“Are you sure? Maybe she’s just had a change of heart since then. OR maybe-”
“No, something isn’t right.” The Dark knight admitted to his once sidekick. Dick Grayson sat on the other side of the line, listening to his mentor come up with theory over theory. “She’s...easier to deal with. Like she let go of all her rage.”
“So why are you upset over that? You finally get to cuddle up to the woman and the first thing you think is brainwashing?This is why you’ll never be happy.” dick mumbled out the last sentence, but they both knew it was heard by the paranoid billionaire.
“I got carried away. I should have investigated that carnival the minute she came home.”
“Why? She looked fine then. A bit drunk but still fine.”
“She hugged me and told me about her outing.”
“And that's not…”
“Normal? Coming from a woman like Dove who compared being here to being locked up in Arkham Asylum two days before the carnival? No. it wasn’t.” Bruce went silent which gave the opportunity for Dick to dwell on the entire situation. Ever since Bruce came home that night, talking non-stop about a woman he met, life has lost predictablitly. This woman changed something in Bruce, unleashed something that was better restrained.
“There. I see you all entering. Where did you go after stopping at the corndog stand?”
“HA! Kori loved those and ate so much she-” Dick paused to refocus. “We played a couple games, the girls were adamant about getting a bear or something, so we stayed there for a while.”
“And then?” Bruce prompted, his eyes never leaving the screen. While he had to constantly switch to a new camera, he could keep up with Dick’s recount. Coily hair blew in the wind in front of her face, but it didn't deter Dove from throwing another ring at the organized bottles. The dark knight couldn't find it in him to fight the wobble in his cheeks, his bird looked so happy.
“Then Dove wanted a turkey leg. Kori saw a stand near the motorcycle stunt cage. I ended up there somehow-” Bruce watched the interaction, there was no “somehow” about it. Without the sound, he could tell his former sidekick had made a bet with his date that involved the stunt cage. “I nailed it, of course, then the girls dragged me to some loony magician.”
“The magician? A tall woman with a green tent?”
“Actually, they were non-binary, Bruce.”
“ What did they do? I can’t get any footage from inside the tent.”
“Ah, you know? Basic shit. Pulled a rabbit out of their hat, guessed someone’s card. Dove went up with a group for them to do hypnosis-”
“She did what? What did they tell her to do?” Bruce resisted the urge to drag Dove down to the cave and interrogate her.
“Come on, calm down. It was basic shit. Quack like a duck, Slap yourself, Kori could tell you the rest of that. I got so bored I swear I almost went to sleep with my eyes open.”
Bruce watched in real time from the outside of the tent until the trio emerged, along with other patrons. At first glance, everything looked fine, but there was something peculiar about the gait of Dove. It’s like she was tipsy. “Did any of you drink before the magic show?”
“Uh, yea. Just a beer or two when we were playing games.” He scratched his chin and thought of another question.
“Did you-” Bruce paused when the sound of the door opening hit his eardrums. “Alfred? Is something wrong?”
Her Shadow stretched from the top of the cave to the base of the stairs, not far from where he stood. “I was wondering if you would like to watch a movie with me? Me and Kori got off the phone not that long ago and Alfred went to do the weekly shopping.”
“I…” Bruce looked at the entrance to find a glorious sight. Though she was completely clothed in unassuming sweats, Dove’s curves were on display for him to take in. He worried about how well he could pretend to watch a movie with a woman like her sitting next to him.
Shaking his head, the detective refocused. He had a mystery to solve. Dove was not herself. That woman up there looked and talked like her, but she would never be her.
“Bruce?” her voice echoed in the hallowed cave. He could see her head swivel, looking for him with those beautiful dark brown eyes of hers. As hard as she looked, Dove did not step into the cave, her feet stayed in place at the entrance, still on the hardwood floors. Good girl, he wanted to say.
“I gotta go.” He muttered out to Dick, ending the call before the last word left his mouth. He sped through the power down process then jetted up the stairs to see the mistress of the house. As much as he wanted to wrap his arms around her, show his happiness over her willingly seeking him out, Bruce had to correct his bird. Dove,”
“Yes?” She backed away slowly, nervous at the sight of his face. He had a certain look in his eye she knew spelled trouble for her.
“Hey, don’t back away, sweetheart.” Large steps closed the distance between them. Rough hands rubbed her covered shoulders in an effort to soothe the woman. "I just want to remind you how dangerous the cave is. You can’t pop in like you did, okay?”
“O-okay. I’m sorry.” This clearly wasn’t his Dove. She was so much easier, now. He shouldn’t be up here, the dark knight had a case to solve. But, her eyes looked so beautiful, filled with fear and hope at the same time.
He’s gone this long playing into the charade. What’s one more day, in the grand scheme of things? The batman could put in the hours later tonight, while his pet slept. And Bruce, he could pretend. For just a while longer, that this was normal. That Dove has learned to love him on her own.
That he finally won the long game.
Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her body closer to his, and suddenly they were back to the moment in the closet. Her eyes, as seductive as they were brown, stared into his. She wasn’t shaking, hasn’t shaken since that night. Pretty plump lips twitched.
This was normal.
Dove’s eyes stayed open when he leaned in to kiss her. His did too. Together they molded their lips to one another, waiting for the other to lower their lids and get lost in the moment. Dove went first, he followed suit.
He knew, eventually, the reason behind her behavior change would become uncovered. He knew the moment he fixed her -and he would because Bruce was a good guy and good guys don’t let their partners stay brainwashed- Dove would go back to being his untamed bird. He knew she would be in hysterics if she remembered what she had done. He knew, but Bruce did not care.
Breaking the kiss, He stroked her cheek until her eyes reopened. “What movie were you thinking about?”
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Gone: Part 2
AN: The long awaited sequel. This is probably going to end up being five parts or around there?
You can feel his eyes on you, and it irks you that you’re only mildly annoyed by it. Still, you continue moving about the room until you’ve finished the task at hand. Maybe if you ignore him long enough, he’ll go away? When you finally turn around, five minutes, later he’s still there. That figures, The Bat had the patience of a saint when it came to getting what he wanted.
“Why don’t you take a picture Bruce? It will last longer?”
He doesn’t react, he just leans against the door frame. You want to chastise him for it. He’s wearing a suit that costs thousands of dollars, and that door frame. . . well it probably hasn’t been cleaned in years, “Take a picture Bruce, it will last longer.”
His voice is unsrpriginly even, “Don’t need to. I have plenty of pictures. The one of us in high school, our first date, wrapped up in each other on the couch, me proposing, and I have a ton from our wedding day. I don’t however, have one of you working in a school, or living in a small town. Or one of you figuring out how to stay off my radar for six years.” The last one is said with a growl, but you can hear the hurt behind the words.
You lean back against your desk, “I know you Bruce. I know how you work. Hell, I helped create your system. It wasn’t hard for me to avoid it.”
“And you had Alfred on your side. That was the key, wasn’t it.”
You don’t hesitate, “Yes.”
There’s several minutes of silence before he says, “It’s time to come home.”
“I am home.”
“I mean home, home. It’s been nine years.”
You throw a stress ball at his head, and you nearly let out a screech when he catches it, “I know how long it’s been Bruce.” You have a literal, walking, talking reminder.
He moves into the room, his hulking frame taking up more space than you would prefer, but you stand your ground until he’s only a few feet away, “You’re in danger.”
“I am not. No one knows about me Bruce. No one knew about me when we were married. I was the high school friend of yours who people pretended didn’t exist. We never announced our marriage, we just eloped. Hell, that party . . .”
You don’t finish that sentence, that party is what led to this. It was supposed to have been your debut as Mrs. Wayne, but the pregnancy had kept the two of you from ever going in. No one knew. You were sure to the media, you were just another no named woman who disappeared after a few weeks. The fact that you had been by Bruce’s side from the time you were seven to twenty three, meant nothing.
You cross your arms, and glance at the clock, you only have half an hour before you need to pick her up. You focus on that clock and say, “You need to leave Bruce.” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at him to find a puzzled look on his face. This time your temper gets the better of you, “What?”
“You never took off your wedding ring.”
Automatically your thumb grazes against the band . . .fuck.
“It kept unwanted attention off me.”
“Liar.” Your heart nearly stops at the word, and a strangled little sound escapes your throat. He moves in closer, “You scuffed the ground with the toe or your shoe, when you said it. It’s your tell.” You know that, he’s pointed out before, and you’d nearly broken that habit when you left, but you’d had no reason to keep up with it in this sleepy little town.
He stops just a breath away from you, and ever so hesitantly his hand stretches out, and you feel him cup your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed, “Did you miss me Y/N?”
Your breath gets trapped in your lungs, and then his breath is fanning your ear, “Breathe sweetheart. Breathe.”
You suck in a breath, and you can feel your knees go weak. You push your arms out in front of you, so that you can stop him from moving any closer, because Bruce is the flame, and you’re the fuel. One wrong move, and you’re back there. You’re back with him, and your entire life is ruled by the Bat’s schedule and his no nonsense attitude. And that would be fine if it was just you . . .but it isn’t just you. And that’s the hardest thing, because you still love the prick . . . you never stopped.
“No.” The word is strangled, and you can feel the tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “No, Bruce. We . . . we want different things.”
His voice is a whisper, “You don’t know that. It’s been nearly ten years.”
“I know you Bruce . . .”
“Maybe things have changed.” You can just feel his lips ghosting over yours . . . when something settles on your stomach. Your eyes flash open and you stare down at eyes identical to yours. It’s one of the few things the two of you share looks wise. Jo smiles at you, “Morning mama.”
“Morning baby girl.” Unlike most nine year olds she doesn’t protest the nickname.
“You were dreaming again.”
You play with the ends of her hair, your arm resting against her back, “Was I?”
“Mhmm. You said dad’s name again.”
You wince at that, “He’s been on my mind a lot lately.”
She sits up as you do, “You could call him?”
You don’t verify that answer, “What time is it?”
“A little after four?”
You blanch at the idea of being up at four, but that means nothing to Jo, she’s always needed very little sleep. Even as a baby, she had barely slept more than two hours at a time. The exhaustion had nearly killed you, and you had cursed Bruce’s existence for a good year; he had always been the same way. In fact your daughter gets a lot from your husband . . . who isn’t really your husband; her early to rise mentality, her IQ, her inquisitiveness, the way she wrinkles her nose when faced with food she doesn’t like.
You stroke her face and she dives at you for a cuddle. You kiss the top of her head and you snuggle in. You’ll be back to sleep in a matter of minutes, but you know she wont. Instead she’ll just choose to stay in your arms, and you’re grateful that she inherited that characteristic from you: the ability to stay.
You manage to avoid dreams of Bruce for several days. You push him to the back of your mind and you focus on your life.
Your days proceed like usual for the most part; you drop Jo off at school, and head to the office and you keep your head down. You focus on the tasks at hand instead of the office gossip, and you keep to yourself for the most part. You’re friendly enough, but it’s safer this way. There’s very little chance at being caught in someone’s selfie, and an even smaller chance at being forced to talk about your past.
On Thursday, you’re halfway through lunch when one of your coworkers. . . Lynne, sticks her head into your office. She’s all grins, and curiosity, and you wonder what the biggest gossip in town needs from you, “You have a delivery.”
You don’t look up from your book, “I didn’t order anything.”
“They’re the prettiest flowers; looks like a bunch of wildflowers with some daffodils and roses thrown in.”
You freeze, because that was the bouquet you had carried into the justice of the peace’s office when you had married Bruce. You push back from the desk and march out to the front. There’s a gaggle of women around it, but the card on top is untouched. You pluck it from the arrangement, and then shove the flowers into the trash.
You return to your office without a word. With shaking hands, you open the card and read the rhyme there, “Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head.”
Your breath leaves your body in a woosh. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that rhyme, not since right after the death of Bruce’s parents, when he had been certain it was the Court who had killed them. You take out your phone and dial the one saved number.
Alfred picks up after the first ring. It’s outside of your weekly update, he knows that means something is wrong. “Mrs. Wayne?”
The use of your married name still throws you, but you don’t question it from Alfred, not after ten years. “Alfred. I think I’m in trouble. Someone found me. I just got a flower arrangement, the same flowers I carried when I married Bruce, and the card attached had the rhyme about the Court of Owls.”
There’s silence on the line before he says, “I’ll be right there.” And your stomach drops because you know this means you’re finally going home.
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Bruce: [to Barbara] Something came up in the mission and we need to distract them.
Barbara: Leave it to me
Barbara: [turns to the rest of the batfam] Centaurs have six limbs and are thus insects. Discuss.
Dick, Jason, Tim and Steph: [immediately start arguing]
Damian: Oh. This. I don't like this. I don't like this at all.
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not to bother you but do you by any chance have any more batfam fic recs? i read all the ones you recommended already and now im starved for content lmao
np lmao i have prepared for this
Just a friendly kidnapping by @Ceciliedr
Jason decides drastic measures are in order, when his workaholic little brother refuses to take a day off. Tim is going on vacation whether he wants to or not.
As always the bat’s antics confuse the hell out of the team. Especially since Red Hood is officially a highly dangerous wanted criminal.
cryptid bats are such a good trope
And the Scene Slips Away (To the Evenness I Fake) by @ Kirazalea
One mistake is all it took to force Jason back into the wonderful world of the Wayne family. Now publicly and legally alive once more, he's forced to spend the next two weeks of his life stuck in the Manor with the whole family.
This leads to several strengthened relationships and the realization that maybe he's missed a few things over the years.
Things that he's now determined to get to the bottom of.
Also known as the "Tim comes out to his family, the public finds out Jason Todd is actually alive, Jason finds out about Mirage and Tarantula, and they all are confronted with the fact that dealing with public relations as millionaire superheroes is actually The Worst (though not necessarily in that order)" Frankenstein of a fic that nobody asked for but I'm giving you anyways
*insert crying noises* this bad boy can fit so much emotion in it
American Ninja Worrier by @DangerBeckett
It's just like Tim to give a poor college student a start in the business world. Kid's a bleeding heart, and usually, that's the sort of thing Jason avoids at all costs. He prefers his bleeding hearts on the literal side, and despite Bruce's best efforts, he's never had a head for business.
Unfortunately, though, this time the business is ninjas, and that's the sort of thing that makes Jason take notice. Because Bruce is useless, and someone's gotta make sure Tim's new internship program doesn't take down all of Gotham.
That's Jason's job, after all.
most accurate tim drake i’ve ever read, added bonus of being fucking hilarious
the art of turning a bed into a home by @ anaksemuabangsa
“We’ll feel better if we sleep in the same place,” Dick reasons, shifting the blankets and piling them on top of a stiff Tim. “When I was smaller, every time Bruce caught me having a nightmare, he used to stay with me until I fell asleep again,” he continues.
In which Bruce's kids develop a habit fit for princes and princesses.
(Somebody get them to sleep, please.)
the whole good habits series is pog asf but this one is my personal favorite. it’s so fluffy ;-;
“Get out of my room.” by @damthosefandoms
Dick likes to mess with his little brother. Jason enjoys being a little shit to his older brother. Everyone always says they’ll get along when they get older. They’re not so sure about that.
hands down the most realistic sibling relationship i’ve ever seen. fulfills my headcanon that dick and jason are just like me and my little brother. Also check out Older SIblings: A Plague on Our Society by the same author bc LMAO
Young Justice Visit the Suez Canal by @charleswaterloo
There is an enormous container ship called the Ever Given stuck in the Suez Canal. Young Justice is on the case. During their short adventure, they also: make a massive sand sculpture, enjoy some fanfiction and unblock the Suez Canal. Not in that order.
‘I am thinking,’ Tim said, with extreme calm, ‘That you have made something that looks like a very large penis when viewed from above.’
‘It’s a dick and balls, yeah.’ Bart said without embarrassment. ‘It’s poetic! I’m ending the journey like it started.’
‘Did you -’ Dick began, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. ‘Did you really tell him to at least “make the shaft bigger”? Bart told Wally and he told me but I have to know if it’s true, Tim. My life depends on it.’
you remember that boat that ended capitalism for like a week? yeah.
contagious by @Valkirin
In a happier Gotham where Robin insisted on bringing his new brother Jason home from patrol, the second Robin is dosed with Poison Ivy's cuddle pollen and finds their personal photographer.
an alternate take on tim joining the family that is much more happy
Whatever it is that brothers do by @ididloveyou_once
Jason’s fairly certain his evening plans hadn’t included playing nursemaid for a reckless, self-sacrificing and frustratingly stubborn vigilante. Not to mention that said vigilante was his dumb fucking brother.
Or: Nightwing is badly injured and Hood’s the only one around to help.
*melty noises* they care about each other...........
Way Down, Hadestown
In which Damian's dead and Tim has lost one too many people to accept that.
Platonic Orpheus-Eurydice not-AU set after Damian's canonical death (that I am still deeply bitter about). Likely throws Wonder Woman canon right out of the window.
*melty noises intensity* THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER TO THE FUCKING GRAVE also the lore is cool as hell in this one
the entire Grade School series by KagSesshlove
Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. This is his life now: pretending to be a normal 10 year old at school all for the sake of the public. But, honestly, the public would rather he not.
fucking hilarious series, i especially like My Family by Damian Wayne
i have so many more LMAO
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The Maid (Part 2/3)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Summary: Bruce didn’t really like the idea of getting a maid. He thought Alfred was more than enough, but not even he could deny the fact that Alfred was getting old and the amount of work he does is tiring. And that is how you got hired.
A/N: This is a shorter part since the last one will be a bit longer, hope you enjoy it!
And surely enough, you found yourself in a cave.
You wandered around the equipment and wondered why was it here? It obviously had to do with Bruce's company but this was hidden.
You were about to leave when you noticed an object on the desk. It was very distinctive, it was Batman's Batarang. You stared at the object, frozen.
You were so occupied with the object you didn't even notice the figure standing behind you.
You were so fascinated. A real Batarang.
You touched it, then picked it up, it was heavier than you thought. Although you were in such a place, your mind was blank.
"What are you doing here?"
The angry voice scared you, making you drop the item as you looked at the dark, tall figure standing in the dark.
You instantly recognized him. How could you not? Everyone knew how Batman looked like.
A dark shadow in the night who will catch you if you don't know how to behave.
Suddenly, you felt your mind restart and you realized where you were and what were you doing.
"I-I'm sorry." you quickly ran past him, going upstairs and into your room as quickly as you could.
It all felt like a dream, everything happened so fast.
But it all made sense now.
Bruce Wayne, your boss, was Batman.
Now you understood why he suddenly kept disappearing from his room at night. Why he slept for so long in the mornings, and why he often had ugly bruises.
You could barely sleep that night.
Thoughts running in your mind. A dark side of you even imagined what it would be like to be married to the Batman. There was something sexy in him, and it wasn't his secret identity, not anymore. It was his eyes, his voice, his everything.
But you were only a maid. And you knew where your place was.
The next morning, Alfred arrived back from his short vacation. You offered him a kind smile as you continued with your daily duties.
"How was the vacation, Alfred?" you asked.
"Wonderful, I should do it more often. I half expected this place to be up in flames, if I'm honest."
"Oh, not at all. I-" suddenly the events of last night flashed in your mind. "I managed everything just fine, thank you."
Alfred gave you a suspicious look but said nothing as he went along with his day.
You were out in the garden, watering the rose bushes when Alfred called you.
"Master Bruce would like to speak with you."
Your heart jumped to your throat. Suddenly everything that happened yesterday came down on you like a cold shower. You were scared, you felt that Bruce was about to fire you.
So, you smoothed your clothes to look presentable and headed into the mansion, right to his office.
"Mr Wayne? You wanted to see me." you entered his office and found him sitting at the table. As you entered he looked up at you, offering you a smile and pointing at the chair across from him.
"I wanted to talk about last night. What you saw...what you found-"
"Oh, Mr Wayne, please don't fire me!" you interrupted him, trying to save your job or perhaps even future. "It was an accident, I brought your dinner up and I found a door open, I didn't mean to. I-I can keep secrets. I won't tell a soul, I promise! I really need this job, please, Mr Wayne!"
"I wasn't going to fire you." Bruce said as he finally got a chance to respond. "I just wanted to ask you to not tell anyone about what you saw yesterday," he explained.
"It's okay. Thank you for coming in. Do you have any questions?"
"No. I will keep your secret safe. Thank you again. Also...Thank you for saving this city." you said as you stood up and left to go back to the roses.
On your way, you saw Alfred as you two smiled at one another. He knew, of course he did.
You were so happy.
Happy to keep your job, happy to know this secret and happy that you will get to stay close to Bruce.
The next couple of days went by rather quickly.
It was always you who brought breakfast for Bruce, most of the time he was still asleep but you did catch him up a few times. During those times, you two exchanged small talk, mainly about the mansion and your life. You never brought the topic of Batman up neither did he.
You were over the moon. Alfred seemed to notice that as he even pointed it out more than once. He said you were always smiling.
Alfred secretly hoped that with him leaving for a vacation, you and Bruce would get closer. However, he never expected you to find out who Bruce is. Alfred knew he needed a new way of getting the two of you together.
Something more dramatic perhaps to spark the flame into action.
And he knew just the right thing.
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Love's Reckoning [Part 1] (Batman/DCU)
(So, my first real go of things in the DC world. It's important to note that while DC is something I've been reading since I was six and wanted to be Poison Ivy when I grew up, I will not write this as something you can't understand. The background for Jason Todd will be explained as will Bruce's connection. I wrote a bit of a visual, but this is Jason Todd around late twenties. Bear with me on this if you've wanted a DC fic, as this will certainly be that.)
When the world you know, the world of safety and of silence, the world of letting heroes be heroes, comes crashing down, what will you do? Will you pick up your sword? Will you fight? And most important of all, will you fight to keep the first real thing you've felt?
Pairing: Jason Todd x powered!Reader, Bruce Wayne
Word Count: 3600
Warnings: Violence, a lot of cursing
[THIS IS A SERIES]
artist credit Oviya Vendan
It was never easy being a hero, not so far as you could tell. Bruce had broken more than a few hearts to save them, his own included. Clark was constantly fighting to keep those he loved safe. Barry struggled with his job and family balance. Diana was being criticized by the public for her appearance, even as an Amazonian warrior. Oliver struggled with Dinah in a way that both could find happiness but rarely ever did. Jason… well Jason had been essentially murdered while Dick simply wanted a family. Then there was poor Babs.
Being a hero sucked.
You had supposed, really, it was why you stayed so quiet about your own gifts. Born with gifts you’d never asked for, gifts granted when your father had desperately tried to save your mother’s life with an experimental drug, life had been easy, relatively speaking. The drug given had saved your mother but had left you different. The difference had made itself known when you were young, a child playing out in the streets when your parents weren’t looking. The difference was clear when the car barreling down the road had slammed into a shimmering blue force field, you curled into a ball and the driver unconscious.
That was back in Coast City. You’d moved after that to Gotham and then to Metropolis. A few visits to Star City during your college years and you’d kept a very close eye on yourself the entire time. The accident had been ruled as such, the driver no recollection of what happened but your parents insisting that “someone” had come and saved you. Everyone bought it, of course.
Bruce didn’t. That damn stubborn man.
He’d been younger at the time but he’d kept tabs. He had an easier time during your years in Gotham but he’d kept many out of your view. Instead, he’d watched and waited, hoping to see what exactly it was that you were capable of. Enough to stop a speeding car, without a scratch, at age ten. What had caught his attention the most was when he had bribed the scrap yard, still a young man himself at age twenty-five, to see the car. Of course it was totaled but the damage to the front was curved and looked like it had hit some sort of globe. So… not you.
As Bruce aged as well and connected with others, with Dick Grayson as a young one too, a bit younger than you, he kept it safe.
When you were eighteen you had found the gift on your porch, a box with silver wrapping and a blue bow that said, “Keep in touch” written in cursive. Inside had been a laptop far more advanced than anything you’d seen before. It was somehow more secure than seemed reasonable for a random laptop on your porch and it somehow knew your fingerprint and facial recognition. But the laptop had videos on it, ones not meant to be blackmail but rather an understanding of gifts.
See, your power was an incredible one and despite your parents insistence you not use it, that you hide it, you had been young and eager which was a dangerous thing. He had videos of you sending blasts of energy into boxes by the docks, falling from a building into an alley, surrounded by a sphere of light. You were safe. He had clips of you reaching out and creating energy barriers around others, like the dog about to be kicked by an owner and instead the owner thrown into a wall. The next was you grabbing the dog.
His name was Silver, a grey Husky, and he lived at home with you now. Much bigger.
What had interested you most was the videos of Bruce, both as himself in the cave and as Batman. Sure, the reveal made sense, but the folder had been labeled, “Trust me.” God, the man couldn’t just write a full damn note, could he? Infuriatingly unhelpful.
Through college, Metropolis, Star City… all of it, he kept up. As the Justice League formed, he kept the system updated, and when the tech began to fail, you’d get another little package. You’d considered leaving a stupid package at Wayne Manor that said, “I have a phone you know, you dumb bat” but that seemed passive aggressive and not your style.
Now in your mid-twenties, life had changed. As much as you’d tried to stay away from the limelight and let Green Arrow, Flash, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, even Red Hood do their thing, power of any kind did something to a person. Your mother in her infinite wisdom had once told you that power would either soften or break a person, but that soft didn’t mean weak. Soft meant compassion, it meant caring, and it meant feeling the hurt when others were hurt.
Life took odd turns, didn’t it?
“Hey, I’m headed out to get a coffee, you need anything?” You slung your bag over your shoulder, loose grey sweater hanging off your torso, covering you somewhat against the autumn air of Gotham, tattered black jeans on the bottom half.
A tall, rather handsome man about your age was behind the counter of the antique and rare book store, the one you owned, “You know the answer, BW,” there was a smirk, the smirk that made you regret hiring on the man who had such amazing references it was hard not to.
The nickname was cute, though. Even if it was those idiot’s initials. He had called you ‘bookworm’ so much the two letters became habit. He liked nicknames.
“Right, like your hair. Dark with a splash of cream. One of these days you’ll change it up though, Jason.” You grinned.
Instead, he winked, the man’s impressive form hardly masked by his choice of a deep red button-down shirt.
Jason Todd, a man who you had never known, had become a close friend and good coworker in the shop. He didn’t seem like the type interested in the rare and antique of things, but he was good at it. And he was dedicated. Always there, you’d said. And of course, he was the one person Bruce had kept from you for so many reasons.
Walking out, you tossed a wave and he nodded, going back to reviewing some of the newer books that came in. He was a good man, you had determined. For no particular reason, really. Other than the fact that he just… was. He asked about you, seemed concerned at anything out of the ordinary, and occasionally he’d walk you home. Gotham wasn’t safe, he insisted. You’d just shrugged. You were not a person The Joker or Two Face went after.
Strolling down the street, you squinted, seeing a throng of people ahead. There was some kind of gathering going on at the museum nearby, one that had escaped your knowledge. Walking closer, curiosity getting the best of you, you passed the coffee shop that had you gone into, none of this would have happened. Curiosity killed the cat, right? But didn’t satisfaction bring it back?
Scooting forward, you saw Bruce, clad in his more dapper attire, a long black peacoat on as he smiled by a microphone, catching a glimpse of Clark Kent in the front with his notepad that he refused to update into the 21st century. It seemed like a rather safe crew, stepping forward as you listened to Bruce speak, keeping space, “-and because of that, I am more than pleased to be able to support the Gotham Museum of Art with the lost Dali collection.”
The crowd erupted in applause, and you supposed it was fair to do the same, bringing your hands together as you smiled. Of course, it was something the man would do. The same man who knew who you were, dropped tech at your door, who had aged well, all things considered. He was 40 now, wasn’t he? The salt and pepper was a good look for him.
What happened next was something that made sense only in a world like Gotham or Metropolis. The explosion that rang out knocked back so many, debris filling the air as even Bruce fell back. Your balance was disrupted but you were able to keep steady, watching as people screamed and ran, the green haze dusting the world. It wasn’t toxic, but it was kryptonite. You had remembered reading about it on Bruce’s dossier about Clark, one of his only weaknesses besides Lois.
There was chaos, though. As men in masks bearing firearms stepped forward, looking like chaos as well. Someone was behind it, but it was controlled and no one had come forward yet. Frantic, you looked around, eyes wide as you tried to run through the crowd, pushing past as you scrambled to the stairs, stepping back as a few men descended upon the target that had been your own: Bruce.
Hiding behind a chunk of rubble, you watched as they grabbed him, binding his hands. He looked dazed, a gash on his head and blood trickling down his face. Looking back, Clark was on the ground, no longer struggling, unconscious fully and out for the count. There was no one here to save the day. Not yet. And who knew how long it might take for someone to come.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, closing your eyes tightly. Now was the time, you had thought. Power made you soft. Those with power had humbled you. Perhaps too much.
A deep breath of cold air filled your lungs, removing the grey sweater that had covered your form, only a thermal black, long-sleeved shirt under it. Tearing at the sweater you had unfortunately really liked, you tied what you could around your face, from the nose down, covering your hair somewhat also. Dropping your bag you jumped out, catching the attention of the two men by Bruce.
Hesitation filled your body, watching as they pointed their weapons, “The fuck are you? Do you seriously wanna die?” One of the men growled out from beneath his mask, watching as you stood. Frozen.
The other scoffed, “Some wannabe hero. Gotham is full of ‘em these days. Just put a bullet in ‘er and get Wayne into the van!”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck so much fuck fuckity fuck.
The weapon was raised and at once you held up a hand, a shimmering blue shield snapping around you, watching the bullet that left the chamber fall dead as it hit, not ricocheting. It’s why you liked the shield. But he wasn’t having it, muttering something as he let loose a storm of bullets, all aimed at you, catching the attention of others nearby, ones who had been doing what looked like damage control, ready to fend off whomever came.
None of the bullets touched you, of course. All slamming into a wall of energy before falling to the ground. The noise had been loud, louder than you knew a gunshot could be, and the sound filled the air. But as it died down, adrenaline was now pumping through you, eyes narrowing, “Bad day to be a bad guy, huh?”
At once you slammed your hand forward, a blast leaving it, bright and quick as it knocked the first man back, the second readying a weapon as well. He had no time, however, as you let off another blast that took him out, both flying backwards.
Shouting commenced now as you ran to Bruce, “C’mon, Wayne. Get up! Can you stand?” You knelt by him, trying to help him to his feet. He was struggling.
To your surprise, however, he was allowing you to help him, “Stopped hiding, huh?” He coughed, looking like absolute garbage and aware now he had internal things going on.
“Turns out I look pretty good in a mask. C’mon, we need to get-” shouts cut through the air suddenly, men scrambling up the stone stairs where you were standing, desperately, guns raised, something about getting you and leaving Wayne. Not that you were too worried, but you’d never been trained in combat. Bruce had decades of fighting skills while you only knew a semester of self-defense and some of your kickboxing from the class you were taking.
Bruce coughed and you winced, letting him down again easily as you felt the group descending upon you, eyes widening as you held up your hands, the energy forming around you both. The shield was bright, shimmering blue, the dome that had protected you as a child that was now saving the two of you, all grown up, “So… so beautiful…” the man muttered, trying to keep conscious as best he could though aware it wasn’t an easy battle.
There were more than a few coming, however, and you could feel them. Their energy. Their anger. Fear. Toxic rage pumping through them as they began to surround you both. Shouting continued as you closed your eyes tightly, trying to block it out. The gunshots were so loud, even through the shield. You were surrounded. You’d never used your powers like this and suddenly you understood you had bitten off more than you could chew.
His words echoed in the chamber of energy, though, “Focus, Y/N. Focus.”
Bruce’s words were weak but filled with a sort of understanding that you were more than you knew. Summoning strength, strength you had yet to fully comprehend, a rush of power filled you at once and you let out a shout, throwing your hands out and sending a blast wave of pure energy outwards, knocking back all of those who had surrounded you, debris included. It was powerful and it rocked the ground below.
You paused, quiet filling the air as you looked around, Bruce unharmed by the blast, as were you. Instead he was regaining his balance, wincing, “You need to get out of here. They’ll come back. More of them. The police too. You don’t need this. I’ll get Clark,” he looked down at the superhuman, unconscious and looking pained.
Only nodding, you turned, running towards the side streets and into a nearby back alley. Once you were sure you were alone, unwatched, you tore the fabric from your face, breathing hard as your knees buckled, falling to the ground. You hadn’t realized it, but you’d begun crying, tears falling down your face as shock washed over you, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Closing your eyes tightly, you whispered, “It’s over. You’re OK. It’s over. Bruce is safe. It’s over.”
It took about a half hour before you were able to get yourself together, wandering back to the book store in a daze, your sweater and the pieces of it ditched into a dumpster. You’d dusted off your jeans, and all things considered you looked all right. But you were shaking, and as you entered the empty store, the bell jingling, you watched as Jason appeared to run over, “Jesus Christ, Y/N! Where were you? The explosion was on the news, then you didn’t come ba-” his sentence was cut off as he looked you over, grabbing your hand that had blood on it. Bruce’s blood, “Shit, you were there? Where’s your sweater? And your bag?”
Snatching your hand back your eyes widened, “Oh god. My bag. Oh my god, I dropped it when- when the uh- when the explosion hit. I dropped it. I took off my sweater to uhm, uh- to help someone who got hurt.”
Ok, not a whole lie, but now the panic was in that your bag was gone. Not just gone, but missing. In the hands of baddies? Randos on the street? What if someone put two-and-two together and figured it out? The sweater was one thing but the bag was another.
Jason wasn’t placated however, his eyes, those startling sapphire eyes tinted with emerald looking deeply into you. There was fear, and it was fear that was rooted in hurt. Not yours, per se, but in hurt none the less.
“I just- I called you and I didn’t hear back. I got worried, you know? I mean, there’s crazies out there. I can’t believe you got caught up in it.”
You shrugged and shook your head, brushing back your hair, “Honestly the only thing I’m pissed about is losing my sweater. Cold as hell out there,” you chuckled nervously, knowing it was too late now to run back and get your bag. It was too late for a lot.
“Oh god, my house keys. Fuck!” You shouted, not to Jason or anyone in particular, but just because you realized not just your keys, but your cell phone, your landlord’s number to even get in… all of it was in your dumb bag.
Once again there were tears. Frustration, anger, terror, worry, desperation, and just general sadness. It was all hitting you as the adrenaline was leaving your body and you fell to your knees, hardly able to register as the strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.
In truth, Jason Todd also didn’t know who you were. All he knew was that Bruce struck a deal with him that he’d get Gordon off his back and bring him back onto his team if he could both keep his shit together and keep the job at the antique book store and alert Bruce to anything unusual that came through. He was a man who trusted no one, and had relied on himself. The scars that should have been there from his murder at the hands of The Joker were gone, healed by the Lazarus Pool. He had regained his soul, too. But not without a cost. He had done much in his time, still held so much anger.
You had been different, though. Your smile had hit him like a baseball bat to the gut (and he did know what that felt like) and your laugh had been music. He felt like some teenager again, like Grayson when he got all fluffy about Starfire or whoever it was he was dating. Kid always had someone, didn’t he? Even if their age was the same. Even if Nightwing was in fact slightly order. In truth, the world had aged Jason in a way that couldn’t be measured, and you had come in to soothe him. It was immediate that he knew you were out of his league. Someone as bright, capable, driven, motivated, and absolutely as stunning as you were did not date him, even when he dressed himself up to look the part. He had instead convinced himself he was fine being a friend and watching over you. And he did. He’d drive by nights he wasn’t working to ensure you locked up safely before getting to your car. Or do a sweep occasionally of your neighborhood. He didn’t know Bruce had your profile. Couldn’t be risked. Todd was a loose cannon in every sense of the word.
He held you close as you cried and somewhere he knew something happened. There was a spark of rage inside him, the idea that someone might have hurt you. Put you in danger. He was the kind that took care of garbage in a way Bruce frowned heavily upon. So for now he kept his arms around you, taking in your smell, of chaos and of something sweet. Of a gentle human who hadn’t been touched by fear or hate how he had. He took you in, wholly.
Were you more present you would have described your cries as “gross crying” as it was indeed that. Choked sobs left your throat as you gasped for air, gripping to him as you wrapped your arms around him. He smelled earthy, in a way. Cedarwood, moss, sage… it was satisfying. It was calming. It was how you had imagined he’d smell, if he’d taken you into his arms the way he was now.
It was unclear how much time had gone by before you sniffled, realizing you had gotten tears and snot on his nice shirt, suddenly self-conscious as you pulled away. But he kept his arms around you, looking down as he wiped a tear away, face stoic, “We need to close up and I need to take you home. You can use my phone and we’ll make some calls. Sound fair?”
The kindness was new. Not new in that he’d never been nice, but this was something different. This sort of protective nature, not even questioning what had happened, just pure kindness. You were grateful now that you’d entrusted him with a set of keys to the store. He could lock up, couldn’t he? He would. And he did.
He got you up, with relative ease, and you felt how physically strong he was. Jesus. And in no time he was collecting you, grabbing his own heavy jacket and throwing it over your smaller form, wrapping you entirely. It smelled of him. It felt safe. He felt safe.
And as he got you into his rather impressive Audi that he had no business owning, you knew that at least for now, you were safe.
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Stroll in the Rain
Requested by: @halietigges
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 701
Warnings/Disclaimers: Just tooth-rotting cotton candy fluff.
A/N: Decided to add an extra challenge for myself. No dialogue. I wanted to focus on describing the scene and how it could be interacted with.
For all those who just need pure, unadulterated fluff in their lives right now.
The tabloids had been going nuts. You and Bruce Wayne were dating and had been for a little over six months. Had someone finally locked down Gotham’s favorite playboy and eligible bachelor? It sure seemed like it, especially with the current scene playing out.
Arms linked, your head rested on his shoulder as Bruce led you on a moonlit walk through the park. The dinner prior had been at a tiny, local place that was generally booked for months out. Being a Wayne certainly had its perks. Bruce had managed to pull a few strings, and it was definitely worth it. The main course was more filling than either of you had anticipated, leading you both to agree a walk to digest was the best choice of action. Well lit even on a dark night, the park was a preferred venue amongst Gothamites.
The path you were on weaved between trees and shrubbery painted with splotches of tiny flowers giving them a Monet-esque vibe. Those flowers, though nothing to write home about, added that dabble of chaos needed to lighten the environment, make it feel homey and comfortable.
Ever vigilant of all the spots that could be used for an ambush, the billionaire noticed the light dim and an almost imperceptible dip of a flower petal before it bounced back into place. Of all the nights, this had to be the one where the weather report had not been totally accurate. Your relaxed grip on his arm tightened, pulling yourself closer as the tell-tale pitter patter of rain graced the tree line and dripped onto the foliage.
With little choice, Bruce extricated himself from your hold and shrugged off his dinner jacket. He motioned you closer while holding it up over you both as a makeshift umbrella. You graciously accepted, nestling into his side to simultaneously stay dry and soak in the warmth he seemed to always radiate. Although the pace had quickened, the leisurely stroll continued onward. A light drizzle wasn’t enough to ruin the night.
A few bends down the walkway, the rain began to pick up. Perhaps he should have brought you to the manor after dinner like he originally had in mind. It was about time for you to meet the family you had heard about. Well, time for you to meet Alfred. You didn’t need to be bombarded by all of the chaos at once.
As if the universe was listening, a pavilion was hiding around the next corner. The only problem was the lack of cover to get there. The trees had taken the brunt of the weather for you. Stopping at the edge of the shrubbery, you two looked at each other. A grin of silent agreement and you darted together towards the dry safety of the pavilion, leaving bouts of childish laughter in your wake.
Bruce plopped his drenched jacket on a picnic table. You opted to lean on said table while trying to catch your breath, your lips still curled up into a smile. A warmth blossomed in his chest when your gazes met. For once in his life, the calculations constantly running in his mind just stopped, and he just went with the moment.
His hand wrapped around yours, tugging you forward into him. Without stumbling in the slightest, you glided with a sly grin, sliding your hands up his shoulders before tenderly brushing a sopping tendril of hair away from his forehead. It was like you were fully prepared for all the spontaneous romantic cliches of the night. Snaking your arms around his neck, you used the leverage you had and pulled him to you. He didn’t let you do all of the work though. He swaddled you in his embrace and met you halfway, so your lips slanted against each other’s just that much sooner.
In that moment, Bruce realized that sometimes no planning yields the best results. Had he gone with his original ideas for the night, this moment would have happened much later if at all. The moonlit stroll, unpredicted rain, lack of an umbrella - It all came together to make the park the perfect place for Bruce to spend some quiet time with you.
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Red Knights Rising
Title: Red Knights Rising Chapter 1
Pairing: Vampire!Jason Todd x Reader, Hunter Tim Drake x Reader (platonic)
Warnings: Cursing, past major character death, blood, a little bit angsty, fluff.
Summary: You grew up with Tim. He was your best friend and confidant. But what happens when you run into his step brother Jason Todd? Tim always warned you to stay away from him. One night you find out exactly why Tim hated Jason so much.
It’s Halloween. I had a random vampire obsession hit me. So here I give you some Vampire Jason Todd. Featuring Matthew Daddario as my Red Hood fancast.
Chapter 1: Tears of Blood
Halloween night always brought out the weirdos.
Even in a town like Gotham, people knew better than to walk around alone at on Halloween night. Not that it was a smart thing to do on any other regular night. It was Gotham after all. There was just something about the holiday that made the crazies reveal themselves.
But none of that bothered you.
You wiped a few stray tears that fell from your eyes. You weren’t currently in the mood to worry about your safety. Not after what you just saw. Your boyfriend of two years, his arms wrapped around some random girl that he met that night. You couldn’t believe it. He tried to push her off of him as if you didn’t just walk in on them sucking face as if their life depended on it. The tears started falling faster now that you thought back to the situation.
You hugged yourself as a gust of wind blew past you. It was probably about 50 degrees out right now and all you were wearing was a thin strapless princess dress you got from some cheap costume store a week ago. You reached up to take the tiara from your head. In your haste, you felt a sting of pain. Looking down, you open your hands to reveal a small gash running down your palm. A few tears fall onto your palm and you wince as the salty substance makes its way into your wound.
You jump, as your cell phone goes off. You take your phone out to reveal a picture of Tim on your lock screen.
“Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?” There is a bit of shuffling as you hear Tim move around in the background.
“M-mark w-was, h-he with another g-girl.” You cried into your phone.
Tim didn’t need to hear anymore. He was already looking for your location on his phone before you even finished your sentence.
You and Tim were attached at the hip since you were kids. Not only were your mom’s best friends, you were next door neighbors. Safe to say you two spent a lot of your time together. You two spent your childhood running around, playing detective. He was always so good at figuring things out. He was the one to help you get through most of high school. You had no idea how you would have passed chemistry without his help. The fact that you two currently attended the same college was an amazing feat in your mind.
Of course he would be the one to take on the Robin mantel. When Tim told you that he was secretly boy wonder you were not surprised. Who better to be Batman’s sidekick than the smartest person you knew. Your curiosity had gotten you in more trouble than Tim could handle. You finally were able to convince him to tell you who the rest of the Bat family was, by accidentally falling into the hands of a certain two faced criminal. He managed to convince Bruce that their secret was safe with you. After that night, you would just stop by Wayne manor if you were bored and looking for Tim. It was a lot safer than you tracking his location via Find my friends.
“Where are you?” He asked, urgently. He put two and two together and knew you were by yourself somewhere in Gotham, on Halloween of all nights.
You made your way into a tiny alley in-between what looked like two abandoned buildings. You had pressed your back against the nearest building and shrunk down to the floor. You hugged your knees closer to your chest as you cried harder into the phone.
“I-I don’t know. I just had to get away from…” You cried into the phone. Your sobs wracking your body.
“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.” Tim said.
“Whats wrong?” You heard Dick’s voice in the background. Tim was probably in the middle of Patrol with the bat family. It was Halloween night so they were probably already knee deep in crime tonight.
Out of nowhere, you heard a pair of boots hitting concrete. This drew your attention and you looked up. It was dark, so you couldn’t really see him clearly, but at the end of the alleyway was a man. He was tall and well built. He took a few steps towards you and you could see a red hemet sitting on top of his head. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized who it was.
“Red.” You said sniffling. You had met Jason a few times. You two never really spoke. Just a few casual hello and goodbyes. Tim warned you to stay away from him. He told you how Jason was a dangerous vigilante that actually killed the bad guys. How he had died once before and was brought back to life. But how bad could he be if he only hurt bad people? Whatever the case, you were happy he was here. Better him than any other creep roaming around Gotham on Halloween.
Plus, you had always thought he was super attractive.
Jason didn’t say anything. He only slowly moved closer to you. As he got closer, he raised his hands to take off his helmet. You recognize that jawline anywhere. He kneeled down in front of you and you looked up to meet his eyes.
You could have swore you saw a bit of red glowing from behind the white mask.
“Are you hurt?” He asked softly.
You shook your head. Mentally you were broken, but physically you were fine.
He reached forward and took your hand into his. You winced as pain shot up your hand. He flipped your hand to reveal a large gash running down your palm. The tiara must have cut you deeper than you thought. Jason studied your cut. He was absolutely mesmerized. He brought it up to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss onto your wound.
You studied him. He didn’t seem so bad. Maybe Tim was just being over dramatic. You were too busy gawking at him to notice the he started to lick your wound. The feeling of his tongue on your cut sent a sharp pain up your body. You quickly pulled your hand away from him and shrunk away. You could have swore his eyes glowed, like a bright red light.
“Red? Are you okay?” You asked curiously.
Jason backed up onto the other side of the alley. Loudly thumping his back into the wall and dropping his helmet. He put to hands on his head and started mumbling. “No no no no.”
You managed to push yourself off the ground and slowly made your way towards him. He looked like he was in pain. “Red?” You asked. He was still pressing himself into the wall muttering things to himself. You tilted your head and studied him for a second. You were starting to get worried. Maybe he got hurt on patrol tonight. It was a good thing Tim was on his way.
“Red? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You put your hand gently on his shoulder. At the contact, his head snapped up and you were certain his eyes were glowing red now. They were light a pair of bright red lights shining through the white of his mask. Without even having time to react, you felt Jason wrap his arms around you. He buried his face in your neck, and ran his tongue down the length of it.
“J-jason?” You asked, your voice shaking with fear.
As soon his name left your lips, you felt two sharp objects press against your neck.
Your eyes opened wide as you put two and two together.
One thing most people didn’t know about Tim, was the fact he came from a long line of monster hunters. You and Tim had accidentally walked into his grandpa’s hidden weapon room when you were kids. Instead of kicking you two out he invited you two inside and told you stories of the monsters he fought when he was younger. You soon found out that Tim’s father also took place in these so called hunts. Tim never really spoke much about it with you. He knew you were empathetic and had started to feel bad whenever they spoke about killing those vial creatures. Creatures that once used to be human. As you grew up, Tim never spoke much about it. You assumed he gave up the family business once he became Robin. You never bothered asking.
But now, everything was starting to make sense. Tim always warned you to stay away from Jason. He never let you near him, not even to shake hands or hug him during family events. You never saw him in the mornings, always at night. The biggest takeaway was the fact that Tim always seemed to dislike Jason for no reason. Knowing what you know about the Drake family and their history as hunters you finally realized why Tim always hated and somewhat feared Jason.
Jason was a Vampire.
You screamed as you felt his fangs pierce your skin.
You tried to push him off, but he was too strong. You tried your hardest to fight him, but it was no use. “Jason!?!” You cried, tears streaming down your face. The harder you fought, the more he tightened his hold around you. You fought like what felt like centuries. But slowly you felt yourself getting weaker and weaker. Your vision started to blur as you felt more and more of your blood leaving your body.
“Y/N?!” You heard a voice from the distance.
“Tim…” You said with one final breathe, before the darkness enveloped you.
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Frequently Asked Questions
(Image description: a list of frequently asked questions for Identity Reveal Bingo, as listed below.)
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IRB is a prompt event around the theme of characters with secret identities and having those secret identities revealed.
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As soon as you ask for and receive your card.
When does the event end?
I wanted this event to be as low stress as possible, so take your time (as long as you don't care about getting the first bingo)! The event will run until the end of the year. Are there any limitations? You can create for any fandom with characters who have secret identities, any pairings, and any ratings. All I ask is that any sexually explicit works depict characters who are adults (18+, no underage), and clearly tag any triggers or warnings so that readers may safely opt out if it is content they prefer not to consume.
What if I really don't like some of the prompts?
Let me know and I can switch them out for you! This is supposed to be fun, not stressful!
What if I have further questions?
Please send me an ask on Tumblr @identity-reveal-bingo!
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batfam as things my family has said—part five
bruce, disgusted: you’re drinking an energy drink? really?
jason: *downs it while staring directly at bruce*
bruce: you’re poisoning your body
jason: my body is a temple
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