#And he had bruises sometimes (fighting bane)

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny holds an Intervention for Brucie Wayne.

So! Danny is the head of R&D at WayneTech, and he often works closely with Bruce and Lucius when they want him to make "Proof of Concept" Gadgets and Vehicles. He doesn't question the absurdity of some of the stuff he builds, he was raised by Mad Scientists after all, all of it seems perfectly normal to him!

But he has noticed something concerning about his Boss.

He really needs to get his Partying in control. Every time he comes into work he has eyebags covered by makeup, some bruises from tripping while drunk, and he is always super cagey about what he did last night. Danny asked some of his coworkers about it, and they noticed it too.

They also bring up that he sometimes comes into work with a really foggy mind, which is probably the aftereffects of doing some kind of drugs at whatever party he was at the previous night.

Even his Hangovers seem really bad! Worse than usual, but he powers through them and keeps acting like his normal Himbo self! Danny realizes that Bruce needs to calm down. He has Kids to take care of, and Alfred needs less work on his plate

So he contacts a bunch if Bruce's Friends, his Family, and even a few coworkers who brought up their concerns to him, and he stages an Intervention.

...

Bruce didn't know what to expect when he walked into the conference room at Wayne Enterprises. He had been called in by Danny, his head of R&D, for a Meeting earlier that day, but Danny had failed to explain the purpose of the Meeting.

He had barely made it on time. He had spent the entire night chasing down Scarecrow, and a slip up had caused him to get hit by some Fear Toxin, which took forever to work its way out of his system. It didn't help that the Antidote gave him a splitting headache.

Bruce opened the door to the Conference Room, and was met with a mishmash of faces. Clark was sitting close to the head of the Table, with Lois at his right, and Diana to hers. In the crowed he could also see Dick and Steph holding in barely contained laughter, with Tim looking a little lost to the side. Damian looked as if he would rather be anywhere else, Duke was looking as list as Tim, and Cass was just smirking at him with a look of amusement.

He could also see the faces of various employees of Wayne Enterprises, among them being Lucius and Tam.

What was going on?

The door closed behind him, and he turned to see Danny standing behind him.

"Bruce, this is an Intervention."

[maybank5]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤 (𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭)

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ you and jj have never gotten along; sworn enemies since childhood. so why is then, when he shows up with bruises, you want to burn the entire world down for this boy?

tags and such: abuse, mentions of abuse, fluff, comfort, walks on the beach, mutual crushes, jj calling you 'mama'

a/n ⤜ needing some comfort jj fics in my life right now, and i'm sure i'm not alone in that. enjoy! also this was supposed to just be a little drabble, but she kinda took on a life of her own. not complaining though lol

song inspo ⤜ any kyla la grange song

word count ⤜ 4k+

JJ Maybank - the bane of your existence. Ever since he had trampled your sandcastle on the playground back when you were seven, you couldn't stand him. And one trampled sandcastle had set the stage for ten years of torment at the hands of this boy. He seemed to revel in making your life miserable. He wouldn't be JJ Maybank if he wasn't pulling your hair or teasing you or shoulder-checking you in the hallway. And you wouldn't be you if you didn't put your hands on your hips and glare at him, shouting after him a scolding, "Oh grow up!" that was only ever met with that laugh of his that seemed to bounce of the cinderblock walls of the school halls.

You had come to realize sometime around sophomore year that you and JJ Maybank were destined to be enemies. You found yourself looking forward to the school day, to see just how he'd try to fuck with you, and to scold him and hear that damn laugh. Your friends couldn't understand it; why the two of you always seemed to seek each other out, despite your mutual hatred. "You wouldn't get it," you'd say with a shrug. JJ Maybank was your mortal enemy, but you honestly couldn't imagine your school day, your life, without him in it.

JJ is no stranger to a fight. He's always getting into something with the kooks from Figure Eight. It's not out of the norm for him to show up to school with a busted lip or black eye. He always shrugs it off, brags about how the other guy "looks much worse." You roll your eyes and shake your head. He's never seriously hurt though, so you don't worry too much. It's not like you lose sleep over JJ Maybank. Still, you can't help the relief you feel that shoots through you like a drug whenever he laughs off the bruises or black eyes.

But today is different. Yesterday, JJ wasn't in school. Not that unusual of an occurrence. But today, JJ shows up to school with his face a galaxy of purples and yellows. Your heart sinks to your stomach as if weighted with a lead anchor. This wasn't just the result of a spat between a Pogue and a Kook. He looked like he'd been jumped and you spend the entire morning following him with your eyes. You want to go over and check on him, press your palm to his cheek, and ask what happened, make sure he's okay. But that's not you and JJ. Instead, you hug your books tighter to your chest and follow him down the halls with your gaze. All you want to do is run after him, check on him. It makes no sense. You know he probably just got in another fight. JJ was always stirring up some type of trouble. But he didn't have the usual laugh or smile this time. His eyes looked almost hallow, broken. It made your heart feel heavy in your chest. You could barely focus in class, all your thoughts drifting to JJ Maybank and those haunting bruises. They were like ghosts in your head.

At the end of the day, JJ was swinging his backpack onto his shoulder with a wince, about to hop into his truck with you surprised yourself. Instead of catching a ride with your friend Sarah, you find yourself running across the parking lot to his beat up, rusted old truck.

"JJ!" You call.

His head whips around, brows furrow when he sees you. Then, that lazy smirk spreads painfully across the snagged and scabbed lip, "Y/N," he says in that lazy, bemused kind of way of his, that let's you know you're in for something, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

You want to scold him like you would normally. Instead, you freeze. You don't know what to say that doesn't include some sort of spat or dig. Instead, all you want to do is pull him close to you and hold him in your arms and it makes no damn sense.

"You weren't in school yesterday," you settle for saying.

"Astute observation, Sherlock."

Your stomach flips a little, excitedly like it does before a fight with JJ Maybank; like you were born for these little interactions. Instead, you take a breath and try your best to push through the wall he's putting up. "I just...I wanted to make sure you're okay?"

"When am I ever not okay?" JJ asks, pushing the blonde hair off his forehead with a practiced flick of his hand.

You sigh. He's deflecting. Of course he is. When does JJ Maybank ever take anything seriously. You don't know why it bothers you so much, but you need him to know. You need him to know that you care, that you're in his corner. You'd fight against him a thousand times over, but when he shows up looking like this, all you want to do is fight at his side and burn down the world for him. You know it doesn't make sense, but when did anything regarding JJ Maybank make sense.

You decide to meet him where he's put you. "Just seen you prettier, that's all," you say with a shrug. If he wants to deflect and be snarky, you can do that too. If snark is his comfort zone, you can meet him there.

JJ tugs the corner of his bottom lip between those feline-like teeth of his. He's amused, and it makes you happy to know you made him smile. Or rather, JJ's version of a smile.

"You worried about me, darlin'?" He drawls.

"If someone roughs you up too badly, who do I have to fight with?" You ask, and JJ laughs. Your stomach dips with the weight of the butterflies that have filled it.

JJ pushing his hair back again, smirk still playing on his lip, "Don't worry, darlin', nothin' can stop me from fighting with you. It's my favorite part of my day."

You cross your arms, fighting the smile on your face as you shake your head. "You're impossible," you say.

"And you love it," he says. You don't realize right away that you don't deny it.

"So...need a ride?" He asks, glancing behind you as Sarah's car pulls from the parking lot. "Cause it looks like yours just left."

Sarah. She's always trying to get you two alone. For some reason, she has it in her head that all your fighting is just camouflaging your "real feelings." You think Sarah needs to stop reading so many fanfics in her free time.

"Of course," you sigh, "Remind me to give Sarah Cameron an earful when I get home."

JJ just chuckles and unlocks the truck, tossing his backpack in the backseat. "Get in," he says. You don't argue.

You toss your bag in the back next to his before joining him in the front seat. Sitting together on his bench seats of his old truck feels almost intimate. This is the closest you've ever been to JJ before, and it's happening when you're alone. Both your brain and stomach feel as if they're on rollercoasters.

JJ backs the truck out of the school parking lot. "So, where to, Y/L/N?"

You tell him your street and he nods. He rolls down his window and with practiced ease, takes out and lights a cigarette one handed. You try not to wrinkle your nose. This is his truck and he's being kind enough to give you a ride. You aren't going to be a pain about a little cigarette smoke.

JJ begins to drum his fingers on the wheel, his right knee is bouncing jitterijngly. The cigarette between his fingers is doing nothing to calm his nerves, and you fight the urge to rest your hand on his knee.

"So," you say after a beat, "You gonna tell me about the sick fight you got in that led to....that," you wave a hand in his general direction.

JJ takes a drag of the cigarette, the air in the truck suddenly feeling thicker. "Not much too tell. Mouthed off, the usual."

You nod, "We both know that mouth of yours is gonna get you in some type of trouble one day."

JJ smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eye, "Yeah," another drag of the cigarette, "But fuck, I wish hadn't been so drunk out of his mind to forget he was wearing that damn class ring."

You freeze. "What?"

"Dad," another drag, "That's who I've got to thank for these sick bruises. Dear ol' Dad."

"JJ..."

"It's fine," he quick to say, quick to shrug, "I've got it under control. It's usually not this bad. But last night he was completely hammered and I should have known not to..."

"No, JJ," you're quick to say, "Nothing you did is an excuse for this. Whatever you did, you didn't deserve this. This is on him, not on you."

JJ sighs, tightens his hand on the wheel, "Whatever," he says, another shrug, a slight sniffle, "It's just a few more months, then I'm eighteen and I'm out. It's fine, really Y/N. I've got it under control. And usually when he gets like that, I can hide out at John B's place, lay low a bit."

"JJ, you shouldn't have to..."

"It is what it is," JJ says, another shrug, "It's just the roll of the dice. The hand I've been dealt. I learned a long time ago it does nobody any good to run around feeling sorry for yourself."

"Does anyone know?" You ask, you feel like your stepping out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the weight of the ice.

"John B, his dad. They do what they can. No one blinks twice at a kid from The Cut with a few bruises. I've got a home, I'm fed. That's more than most of the kids from the broken homes 'round here. Besides, if anyone did come sniffin' around and decide to take me away, you know what that means, Y/N? That means being taken to the mainland, to a group home that'd probably be worse than where I am now. And I won't have John B or Big John or the surf to keep me sane. So I lay low, try to stay out of his way. It's fine, Y/N. I'm fine."

Your hand hovers slightly before you press above JJ's knee, right where the khaki cargo shorts cut off. His skin is soft, tanned. You half expect him to jerk away, to smack your hand away. Instead, he tenses under your touch, his eyes draw to you. You give him a soft smile.

"It's okay not to be fine, JJ. You don't have to be fine all the time, and you certainly don't have to be fine around me. It sucks, and I'm so sorry this is what you go through. You've never minced words with me before, so don't start now. It fucking sucks. But you aren't alone, okay? I'm here for you too."

"Mind if we make a pit stop first?" JJ asks.

You shrug, "I've got nowhere else to be."

You're sure Sarah is probably glued to her phone wanting every detail. You can make her stew a little bit.

JJ pulls the truck over at the drive-in burger place, Storm's. He orders two strawberry milkshakes.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, then I'm kicking you out of this truck right now," he says, paying the carhop the $5.50 and handing you your Styrofoam cup.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, I might never speak to you again," you say.

"Damn it," he snaps his fingers with a grin, "Nearly had an out."

You give his shoulder a shove and JJ laughs. It feels good to hear him laugh, to be the cause of it. You want to make him laugh over and over again.

JJ takes the truck out towards the beach. You sit in silence as you watch the waves, sipping your milkshakes. Silence has always made you feel awkward, on edge. This silence between you feels almost comfortable. Like neither of you have to say anything, and that's okay.

Still, you can't help but ask, "You have somewhere to go tonight?"

"Been staying at John B's," JJ says, "Dad'll cool off in a few days. Sober up. He's predictable like that. Hell," JJ laughs humorlessly, "I'll bet this weekend he'll pull up with an ice chest of beer and cans of tuna and have a whole weekend out on the boat planned just the two of us. That's as close to an apology as Luke Maybank can muster."

"JJ..."

"It's fine, Y/N. Like I said, I've got it under control. A few more months and then I'm out. I've even got money saved. John B and I are gonna rent a place close to the water. It'll be sick."

"Sounds nice," you say. "This is nice," you wave your milkshake out towards the sea just ahead, "I don't come to the beach enough."

"You don't? How do you survive?"

You can't help but laugh at how genuinely concerned he sounds. "Not everyone needs the salt water to survive, Jage," you say, "I guess I just never grew up with it. My parents are definitely more inside people. And sure we go to the beach sometimes. But I guess I just don't go out of my way to come here."

"That's just sad, Y/N. One of these days, I'm gonna have to teach you to surf." The comment seems to take the both of you by surprise. "Uh..." JJ's hand goes immediately to the back of his neck.

"I'd like that," you're quick to say, and it seems to relax him just a bit.

"Really?" That lazy grin is back.

"Mmhmm," you nod, "No one's ever gone out of their way to teach me anything like that before. And even I know you're one of the best surfers on the island."

JJ beams with pride, sits up a little straighter, "Damn straight." He takes another slurp of his milkshake, then lifts his chin towards the water, "C'mon," he says.

"Where are we going?" You ask as he's already bailing out of the truck.

"Just c'mon," he says.

You can't help but laugh, leaving your milkshake behind. JJ takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the beach. The wind is kicking up as evening approaches, and you walk along the sand, breathing in the brine of the salt water. JJ's still holding your hand in his, and you can't help but think it belongs there, in his.

"This right here," he says, "is why I stay where I am. I can't imagine being away from the ocean, the surf. John B says I have saltwater for blood and maybe he's right. But this right here, Y/N, is my favorite place in the world. It's paradise. Everything else, all the bullshit, it's worth it to be here. There's no where else I'd rather be."

"It is beautiful," you say, "I definitely need to come out to the water more."

"I'll bring you."

"You better."

JJ smiles, tightens his hand around yours.

The two of you walk along the beach, enjoying the sounds of the waves splashing, the gulls cawlling from above. Some little kids are building sandcastles as you walk past.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" You ask, "I was building a sandcastle in the sand box on the playground and you trampled right over it."

"That was not the first time we met."

"Yes it was."

"Oh no it wasn't. C'mon, Y/N, do you really not remember?"

"I remember you trampling my sandcastle is what I remember."

JJ shakes his head, "We met before that. Nursery school. About two years before then."

"What?" Your brows furrow as you try to think back that far.

"It was your first day and you were crying and clutching that stupid teddy bear of yours. You didn't want your mom to leave you. You sat off by yourself crying all morning. I went over and shared my Goldfish with you cause I felt bad."

"Oh my God..."

"Yeah," JJ runs a hand through his hair, watching the sand kick beneath his feat, "And then that day on the playground, I was so excited to see you again that I ran over and...accidentally stomped on your sandcastle. But by then you were so livid that I'd ruined it and started yelling at me, and well...I've always been kind of a shit about things and so I started kicking it worse, just to get a rise out of you. I'd have done the same thing to John B. But seeing you get all...squawk like that."

"I do not squawk."

"Oh you absolutely squawk," JJ laughs, "And thus began our beautiful rivalry as we know it."

"You're a pain," you say, but you can't help the smile on your face.

"You love it though."

"Do not."

"Do too!" JJ gives you a gentle shove with his shoulder, "You absolutely start half the shit that's happened between us. You go out of your way to track me down and yell at me for something."

"I do not do that!"

"You absolutely do that. And you drag poor Sarah long with you and she stands there and tries not to laugh as we go at it. If I didn't know better, Y/N, I'd say you actually enjoyed our fights."

"That's not true! You are such a menace! You get on my last never all the time and..."

"Uh-huh," JJ's smirk deepens, the dimple forms in his cheek, "Keep tellin' yourself that, Mama."

The term of endearment makes your stomach tighten. You can feel your cheeks heat, and it's not from the sun.

"Don't call me that," you say.

"Why not?" JJ asks.

"Because," you can't think of a single valid reason. "That nickname is for a significant other," you finally say.

"True," JJ nods, "And that's definitely not you, right?"

"Absolutely not," you say, your hand gives his an involuntary squeeze, "In your dreams, Maybank."

"What do you know about my dreams, Y/L/N?"

You give him a shove, and JJ laughs.

"I like that," you say before you can stop yourself.

"Like what?" JJ asks.

"Your laugh."

You swear his cheeks go a shade of pink when you say it.

"No one likes my laugh," he says.

"That's not true. John B likes your laugh, I see the two of you. He's always trying to go out of his way to make you laugh. And I like it too."

JJ blushes deeper, "You can't just go runnin' around sayin' shit like that," he says.

"And why not?"

JJ just sighs, lifts his eyes to the sky like he's saying a silent prayer and shakes his head, "You just can't, darlin'."

The two of you walk a little further, to one of the rocky hills. JJ still holds your hand as the two of you climb up to sit on the top. He pulls his knees to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Love coming here," he says, "Best place to sit and clear your head when the noise of everything else gets too loud."

"It really is beautiful," you say, "Thank you for bringing me."

"Haven't had a chance to come out here since the other night," JJ says, picks up a rock and turns it in his hand. "Went straight to John B's after."

You finally reach a hand out, cup his cheek in your palm, "I'm so sorry, JJ," you say, wishing your gentle touch could somehow erase the pain from his flesh. You realize in this moment that JJ Maybank should only ever feel gentleness and softness. It breaks your heart to think he's felt anything else.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," he says, overlapping your hand with his, "But thank you, Y/N."

"Make you a deal," you say.

"What's that?" JJ asks.

"Any time things feel like a lot, you can come find me and bring me out here. I need a surf instructor after all. Any time you need to clear your head and need an excuse, I'm here."

JJ smiles, nuzzles his cheek into your hand, "Thanks, Y/N." He takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the back of your knuckles, "Can I tell you a secret?" He asks.

"Sure."

"I think that's why I pick fights with you like I do. Fighting with you...it's fun. And it pulls me out of my head. Distracts me."

You can't explain it, but his words make your stomach dip. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," JJ blushes again, ducks his head, "I just...it's fun. Isn't it?"

"It is," you admit, "I like fighting with you."

"But after all these years...." he sighs, "...sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

"Wonder?"

"If there might be something better...better than fighting."

The butterflies are back and you tilt your head to meet his eye, "Like?"

"You're my distraction, Y/N. Every bit as much as the waves are. You keep me grounded. It sounds stupid....but the reason I even still come to school at all is because I look forward to fightin' with you. I'm just sayin'....what if there was something more than fightin'."

"Can I tell you a secret?" You ask. JJ nods. "Sarah gives me so much shit for it, but fighting with you is one of my favorite parts of the day. I do look for you and go out of my way to yell at you for something. It's...it's fun, getting under each other's skin. I can't imagine you not being the fixture you've become in my life, JJ Maybank. I don't think I want to."

JJ takes a breath, the blush is back on his cheeks. You give his hand a squeeze.

"What would you want with a guy like me?" He asks and your heart clenches in your chest.

You let go of his hand and turn to face him, sitting up on your knees. "JJ Maybank," you say, gently scolding, "Don't you even think that. Not for a second."

"Look at me though," he says with a broken sigh, "I'm fucked up, Y/N. Just look at my face..."

You interrupt with a press of your lips to his cheek. JJ freezes, you hear the softest little gasp escape. You press another kiss to another bruise, and another. The bruise on his cheekbones, the cut above his eyebrow, the purple blooming along his eyesocket. JJ is almost shaking as you press a final kiss to the cut on his swollen lip.

"Jesus, Mama..." he says, and it sounds like a prayer.

"That a better distraction than fighting?" You ask with a smirk of your own.

"Fuck yes," his voice is thick and wrecked as you sit back, card your hand through the blonde bangs sticking to his forehead.

"I think so too," you say. "What do you say we retire our title of mortal enemies, hmm?"

"Yes please."

You can't help but giggle at the desperation in his voice, "What other title should we give each other then?" You ask.

JJ rolls his eyes, the smile on his face big enough to split him in two, "You're really gonna make me say it?"

"Mmhmm."

JJ shakes his head helplessly, "Alright, fine. You win. Girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend," you say back.

JJ ducks his head to hide the blush staining his cheeks. His smile has somehow grown even bigger. Then, as if finally getting a handle on himself, he reaches up and pulls you towards him, hand at the nape of your neck.

"You know what this means, right?" He asks, lips hovering above yours.

"Tell me."

"I get to kiss you any time I like."

"Well you god-damn better," you can't help but grin.

JJ chuckles lowly, before capturing your lip in his. The kiss is unlike any other kiss you've ever experienced; those sweet, shy kisses on doorsteps after dates to dances and diners. This is different. There's a desperation there, a hunger, and a hope all in one. JJ nips at your lip as the two of you pull apart.

"Fuck," he says on a sigh.

"Better than fighting?" You ask again.

"So much better."

You press another kiss to his cheek, "I wish I could kiss away every bit of pain, JJ."

"This?" JJ points to the bruise on his cheek, "Aint nothin'. I'd walk through fire and back for one kiss from you."

"I'd never ask you to," you say, cupping his cheek in your palm again. "You know what this means, right?"

"What's that, Mama?"

"I get to kiss you any time I like. No walking through fire required."

"You're letting me call you Mama," JJ says, reaching a hand out to twist a strand of your hair around his finger.

"Boyfriend privileges and all that," you say.

"I like the sound of that," JJ grins, "Tell me, darlin'. What other privileges do these new titles come with?"

You shake your head with a laugh, "You'll just have to see."

The sun is starting to set and JJ sighs, "Guess I better be gettin' you home."

"Pry should."

"And Big John is grilling out for us tonight, so I should get back for that."

"You gonna be okay?" You ask.

"Of course," he says, "I'm JJ Maybank. When am I ever not okay?"

You sigh and shake your head as he holds out his hand and helps you to your feet. "Besides," he says as the two of you start the walk to the car, "I get to look forward to seeing my girl tomorrow."

You can't help but blush. JJ holds the truck door open for you and you slide in. He goes around to the drivers side and hops in, turning the key in the ignition.

"Do girlfriends get AUX privileges?" You ask, reaching for the cable hanging down by your feet.

"Fuck no," JJ laughs, snatching it away, "I've heard the shit you and Sarah blast from her convertible. Girlfriend or not, Taylor Swift is not touchin' these speakers."

"But...girlfriend privileges."

"Girlfriend privileges nothin'," JJ grins, backing the truck out, "Girlfriend privileges mean I'm pressin' you up against this truck and kissin' you breathless before I tell you goodnight. It does not mean blasting Taylor Swift in ol' Daisy Mae."

"You named your truck Daisy Mae?"

"What?"

"That's more egregious than any music I could play from my phone."

"Don't you be talkin' shit about Daisey Mae, okay?"

"Stupid ass name," you say with a smile.

JJ lifts his middle finger at you with a smile equally as big.

"Alright," you say, "question."

"What's that?"

"Just because we've retired the title of mortal enemies doesn't mean we still can't fight, right?"

"Not the fun fights anyway," JJ grins, "Those fights I can always just shut you up by kissin' you."

"Menace."

"Always."

You shake your head, laughing and lean your head against his shoulder.

"Oh I am in so much trouble," he says, handing you the AUX cord, "You've already got me wrapped around your finger. You always have."

You press another kiss to his cheek, taking his hand in yours. You pull up These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding.

"And you've got me wrapped around yours," you say.

JJ grins, lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles. The two of you drive the rest of the way to your house in silence, your head on his shoulder and Otis' voice crooning from the crackling stereo. JJ Maybank was officially now no longer the bane of your existence, and maybe Sarah Cameron hadn't been that off-base after all. All you knew in this moment though was you'd spent the last ten years being driven crazy by JJ Maybank, and you'd gladly be driven crazy by him the next ten.

[jasmines-library]

I just discovered your blog yesterday and I am INHALING your work! I love your writing, it feels like a movie being played in my head. Oh and the ANGST - JUST ajfhahaskh *Screaming in my pillow rn*.Would you be willing to write a second part of the self harm batfam x reader fic?

~ 🦑

Save Me When I Drown

I'm so glad you like my work hearing that means so much to me. as requested, here is a part 2; sorry it took me a billion years to get to it.

Part 1: Catch Me if I Fall

Warnings: Very nearly self harm, depressive thoughts, relapse. Please read with caution.

Word count: 1.3K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Things had been getting better. Slowly but surely they had. It was a slow process, that of course had not been easy. There were days where you felt like you could run a hundred miles, but there were also days where you couldn’t bring yourself to move. When the urge became too much. And although your brothers were there to help you… today was one of those days. 

The five of you were gathered around the table. Eating together at least once a week had become a tradition, and each of your brothers made a big effort to attend them, though it was rare to make it this far into the meal without being interrupted by Gotham’s infamous residents. And you were trying so hard to keep focused; to enjoy Alfred’s cooking as it melted on your tongue but you just couldn’t. And you hated yourself for it. 

You had to keep your eyes on your plate as you pushed your food aimlessly around the china. Your appetite had gone nearly as soon as you sat down, but you couldn’t look up because you knew as soon as you did you would feel guilty again. Dick sat across from you. A dark bruise had blossomed over his skin, turning it dark shades of maroon and indigo. He had a small laceration on his cheek below the bruise over his eye. It hadn’t needed stitches, but the sight still made you grimace. Beside him, Damian was also bloodied. They were all injured in some way. A stitch here, a sprain there. 

You should have been bothered by them. Injuries were a given in your line of work. But the thing that was tipping you over the edge was the fact that you were completely unscathed. There wasn’t a single hair on your head that was out of place. And it made your skin crawl. The five of them had run into a bit of a predicament with Bane; a particularly grisly fight that had ended with the majority of them spending a day or two on bedrest or in the infirmary. 

You should have been there. You should have been helping them but instead you were sitting in the safety of the manor, watching them on the monitors. Guilt washed over you like an ocean drowning you in your own thoughts. If only you had been quicker to direct them. If only you had pushed Bruce more to let you help out. Surely with an extra pair of hands the risk of injury would have been lowered. You would have had to ask Tim for the exact statistics, but you were sure enough that it would have made a difference. 

Bouncing your thigh leg up and down, you felt as though your skin was burning. Itching. As those thoughts weaselled their way back into your conscience. You picked at the skin around your thumb. Sometimes that helped the urge. But not this time. You had been too slow. Again. Everything was your fault and-

“Y/N?” It was Dick’s voice that broke you out of your trance. It was gentle and he reached out to place a hand on your restless leg under the table. He was ever the observer. The way he looked at you made you want to cry like a fragile child. Soft blue eyes downturned as he raised his eyebrow a fraction with the tilt of his head. “Are you alright?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell him everything. But you kept it bottled up. You didn’t want them to pity you. Besides, you were getting better. That was what you had told yourself. That is what had been happening and it made you so frustrated that you were beginning to feel this way again. 

“Y/N?” Someone else called your name again with the same solemn tone when you refused to reply. You didn’t register who it was because your head was too foggy. Frankly, you didn’t care. You needed to leave.

“ ‘scuse me.” Scraping your chair against the floor, you abandoned your food and made a beeline for the exit. 

You think someone called after you, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the thumping of your heart as you hounded up the stairs and into your room. Shutting the door rather too harshly and locking it behind you, you sank to your knees. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as your mask fell and you slumped against the ground. You felt so stupid. You were supposed to be getting better. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You were supposed to be fine and you were supposed to be downstairs eating with the others. God, that made you feel even worse. You sank a little deeper into that ocean of thoughts. They had all made such an effort to be there and you had just fled like a child to their mother. 

Do it. Your mind was barking orders at you again. Old ones that you had fought so hard to forget.

Restlessly you pushed yourself up and made your way over to your closet. Shakily you dug through the draws until your fingers wrapped around the frayed leather. Silent, you turned it over in your palms. Your whole body seemed to tremble as you moved to perch on the edge of the bed. 

Someone was knocking on the door. You could hear them on the other side begging to be let in. begging for you to just answer them. 

You placed the blade against your skin and screwed your eyes up tight. The silver was cool against your skin. 

“Little Bat…please open the door.” Bruce had never sounded more vulnerable as he stood helplessly outside the door. You could almost picture his face: eyebrows downturned and eyes wide as he waited anxiously for you to either open the door or from Tim to return with the spare key to your room. Just in case. 

Trembling, your whole body was wracked by waves of tears each one gripped you tight and was accompanied by a thousand thoughts trying to burn away at the surface of your skin. Your eyes flickered to the knife. One swipe and it would all be gone. One swipe and you would get what you felt like you deserved. But then Bruce’s voice broke through the door. 

“I know you’re scared, Kiddo.”

Your head snapped toward the door. You paused with a shuddering breath.

“And that’s okay. That’s normal.” He continued. “I get scared too. We all do.”

At that moment you knew that your brothers were standing behind the door too, waiting with anxious anticipation that made their fingertips itch. You heard a shuffling, and then Jason’s voice came, muffled by the door. You weren’t entirely sure if he was planning to break it down or not, but his voice was calm. 

“Please open the door Little Wing…” Jason pleaded. “...We love you…and we’re scared.”

And you broke. The dagger clattered to the floor with another bout of tears and you unlocked the door. 

Bruce wrapped you up in his arms the second the door was wide enough to reveal you. He let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“S-sorry…” You spluttered. “I’m sorry…”

“Shh.” He cupped the back of your head with his hand and you felt one of your brothers place a hand on your shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Little Wing. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But I-”

“Shh.” Tim hushed. “It’s okay.”

“I thought I was getting better.” You sniffled.

Damian frowned. “You are. And we are so proud of how for you have come, sister. This is part of the process, Little Wing.”

“You’ve come so far, Kid.” Dick told you. “And we’re sorry that we didn’t notice how you were feeling until now. But it’s okay, because healing isn’t a linear process. And we’re going to be there with you every step of the way. Through the good and the bad just like we promised.”

You nodded. 

“This is just one of the bad days, Wing.” Tim hummed. “Things will get better, I promise.” 

“And we will love you the entire way.”

Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

[summertimemusician]

Warriors/Hyrule Warriors Focused WIP Sneak Peak

“... So, you came here not as the ‘Captain of the Knights of Hyrule’, or even as ‘The Hero Who Wields the Sword of Evil's Bane’...” You started, light and raspy and something close to hollow that made Warriors ache, you both breathing heavily and bloodied and bruised, and still standing, you were beautiful, taking the place of the late hyrulean sun as you had your knee to his chest and your dagger to his neck, but he wasn’t worried, not with you  “... But rather as an ‘old friend’?”

The way you practically spat the words through clenched, bared teeth would have been mistaken by loathing by anyone else, snake venom and the shape of winter winds in your eyes and mouth in your frigid fury, if he couldn’t tell how your usually steady hands shook like icicles in early spring. Knew as well as you did that all it would take is one slip of the blade and his neck would be split open.

“You heard me the first time, didn’t you?” he spoke calmly, breathing and taking you in as if that single moment would be your last.

(And maybe it might, if he didn't do this right.)

You paused, then a snort, then a chuckle, then a laugh, something close to a yowl, or maybe a howl as you sobbed.

Your blade misses his neck by inches, stabbing into the ground below and he doesn't flinch. Doesn't allow himself to flinch, knew you'd pounce on any hint of weakness and hesitation

“Aah… I suppose it’s my loss, Link.” You laughed, it was a bitter, ugly sound. Something that made him hurt and want to hold you in his arms as he did back then, in unwanted ballroom nights where you'd both slip to vacant rooms and talk about everything and nothing. When he felt comfortable speaking, when the vitriol of his fellow men didn't burn against his skin and the loathing both from others and himself for why the war started didn't tighten around his neck like a noose. When you'd both go horseback riding while on leave and you'd smile for him with all the brilliance of a star and all the sharpness of a blade, ready to take on the world so long as you were together.

He hated seeing you like this, broken down and ruined by war and thirst for justice never given, hated how he burned away pieces of himself and didn't think to look more into the situation before he lost you. 

(And why would he have? Good soldiers follow orders after all, even if it's against their own comrades.)

He missed you so, so much.

“It never ends, does it?” You snarled out, hurt and tired and something that was all the melancholy of a trapped animal, “You hurt me, you come back, I hurt you right back, you still return. I just can't keep doing this anymore.” You bare your teeth in a smile, half mocking, half desperate, “I can't even slit your throat to shut you up properly now, pathetic, isn't it, hero?” 

He felt flayed open, who knows, maybe it would be a kindness if you did slit his throat open. He'd prefer that in the place of seeing the one person he cared for the most a hollow mirror of their old self.

(He knew Mask, Linkle, Spirit, Tetra and the Sailor would give him a good shake for it. But he couldn't help it.

It wasn't the first time he considered ways to end the war after all.)

“It doesn't have to be like this,” He offered, somewhere between the charm he sometimes had to use when interrogating the enemy and a desperate plea, “We can do better, we can make things better.” 

“You really think I can just let it go? That they will also let it go?” You say, scoffing bitterly, “Everyone has seen me fighting you today, hero, all remember what I've done. The only route waiting for me is execution if I throw it all away now.” There's conviction in your voice, but hesitance in your gaze as he dares to place a hand over yours, over the sharpened, but old blade, the one he once gave you, “I hurt you, you hurt me. There's no going back from that.” 

You don't push him away, so he presses on with cautious hope in his breast, courage rekindled. He is so, so tired, but he'll be darned if he loses you a second time, he's come this far after all, “There isn't. But we can move forward from this, there's no need to let it go, but it's not too late to try and make things better either. Not yet anyway, I know you can't trust me after everything I've done to you, and I can't fully trust you after all you've done either, but I don't know about you, but I'm done with trying to hate you. I'm tired of letting those doubts turn into hate.”

Your grip tightens, suspicious as a fox in the face of a wolf, “And what makes you think I'm done hating you?”

“You wouldn't have let me keep speaking if you were.” He bites back, he doesn't have much time left until the rest of either of your companies arrive, “Come back with me, please.”

His tone is soft and kind, and something in your expression breaks, it is the conflict between loathing and grief and longing, all clashing spears and swords and none winning.

You let the blade go, and he doesn't waste any time holding you as you choke on a sob, doesn't mind the way one of your hands curls into a claw, cutting against his wounds. He's sure he's holding you a bit too tight too after all from the way you wheeze, but you don't push him away, and that's enough.

‘Finally.’

[blues-sues]

First friend

(Ft. Rue and Banny)

The walls were stark white. Always were. Never changed, never shifted.

She would watch these walls for hours, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Sometimes things would. A grunt would come and get her for her routine check up but after she'd be quickly put back in her room. Rarely let out.

She was much too young to wander out alone. Not trusted enough.

Her eye was still recovering, the bandages bloody and itchy. So horribly itchy. She wanted to claw at it but she'd been yelled at too many times. She'd face punishment if she tried again.

She needed something to distract her. She didn't care if it was another fight. If she saw that Mightyena again, she'd-

Whirring. She stiffened as the door slid open behind her, clicking along its journey. She waited. She was told never to turn around until instructed. Last time she did, she saw a needle and had sent the man flying.

However, part of her knew this one wasn't a human. Something about the tiny steps it took told her such.

"S'alright. Ya c'n turn." Its voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was deeper than any she'd heard and had a faint echo to it- like it had a constant copycat attached.

However, she listened and looked over her shoulder to see it. However, nothing was there.

"Down 'ere."

Her head lowered until finally she spotted it. A small pokemon with black pigmentation and red eyes that look into hers curiously.

"N'mes Banny. Nice ta meetcha." It held out its hand, the middle of its arm sagging in the middle where its elbow would be.

"Uhm." She stared down at him. "Mewtwo." She replies, putting out her own and giving a shake.

"Ah. Righ'. Mewtwo." Banny's eyes narrow. "Ya gots quite th' reputation."

"Do I?" She questioned. Sincerely she's not quite sure why people would speak of her. She's not that interesting- besides being the last of her kind. At least that's what her guards told her.

"Duh. Ya th' newest memb'r. Everyone's dyin' to meet ya." The Pokemon shuffled and scrambles its way to sit beside her. "Looks like somebody 'ready did, tho."

She doesn't miss the way its eyes seem to look over her cuts and bruises from her battle. She couldn't. She's wired by now to notice every single movement near her.

"Was it th' brat? Big ol' stinky dog?"

She snorted. She couldn't believe she just snorted in front of a guest. However, Banny seemed unbothered. In fact, it grinned wider.

"I- well, I wouldn't say that." She covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. "But, yeah, he was… interesting."

"Ya c'n say 'e was a bitch, I won' tell." Banny offers, its tail beginning to wag. "'re both thinkin' it."

"Where did you even come from???" She stuttered out between her laughs, clutching her stomach.

"Oh, y'know."

"No, I don't!"

"Bit of 'ere, bit of there. 've come from everywhere." The Banette begins to sway its legs, eyes curving upwards into crescents as it eyes her. "Y're bett'r than anyone else 've met. All got sticks up 'eir asses."

"That's rude!" Still, she has to resist giggling. Something about this 'mon has her feel like she's being told marvelous jokes.

"N't wrong~" Banny sang out, before breaking into a fit of laughter of their own.

And it was pleasant to sit there, laughing with it, but she also knew it couldn't stay.

Nobody could.

Finally, once she's regained her breath, she opens her mouth to address it but suddenly the doors swing open again and in marches-

A Zoroark.

Oh, but she's seen this one before. It's hard to forget a Pokemon that's half-shiny.

"Captain!" She squeaks out, back straightening as they draw near. But, their attention isn't on her.

Whipping around, they grab the Banette by the tail. "Banny, you are not authorized to be here!" They barked, lifting it so its eyes were level with theirs.

Banny didn't look fazed. "H'h? Y'sure? Swore I w's."

"You are the bane of my existence, you rat! Leave Mewtwo alone, they have training in an hour!" Captain snaps, dropping Banny abruptly only to start dragging it out by the arm.

She watches, eyes wide in awe as Banny still has the confidence to raise its other arm and wave. "G'dbye! S'ya next Chr'stmas!"

She rose her own and bid her own farewell with a sway of her arm. However, it took her a moment to process that...

It wasn't Christmas.

She tried to keep it at bay but once the door slid shut, she burst into another round of giggles. What a silly Pokemon!

-----

Banny, on his way out, of course heard. Their smile stretches wide upon hearing the laughter.

"What's got her so jolly?" Captain grunts, narrowing their eyes to glare suspiciously at Banny. "Did you infect her with something?"

"Yeah. 's called joy. Not tha' ya guys would know 'bout it."

Captain merely rolls her eyes in response. "Banny, you know this is for her own good. If she were out there, she'd-"

"-be happy? Wit' 'er real fam'ly?" Banny interrupted swiftly. "Ya act like 're savin' h'r but y'know we ain't."

"It'd do you good to keep your mouth shut." Was the Zoroark's snarled response. "That zipper ain't working."

"S'rry, it only lets me talk if 's th' truth."

The Banette was then promptly tossed into their own room and they shrug as they watch the door slowly start to slide shut, Captain's fierce glare locked on him.

Well, guess not leaving the room this week either.

[buckybabesonly]

Mockingbird

Summary: Bucky tells you he doesn’t need you, except he can’t live without you.

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Female!reader

Genre: Slight angst

Warnings: I’m not a medical expert, mentions of character injury, Bucky self-wallowing

Word count: 2.8k

Knowing that Bucky was constantly amid danger was the bane of your existence. You could plead him to be careful, always remind him to take care of himself, but you knew your words could do little to protect him from harm.

He was a soldier first and would always do the right thing on the field, no matter how dangerous. He would attack those against him and protect those beside him, even if it meant that his safety was on the line.

It was one of the sources of your arguments, and you hated it.

In the beginning, you thought you would be able to take it. After all, he had been doing this long before he met you. When you first got together, he had made sure you knew exactly what you were getting into.

Your love for Bucky had been stronger than anything, and you knew you had to at least try, no matter how unconventional the relationship.

So, over a year later, even though you couldn’t have frequent dates like a ‘normal’ couple, and sometimes Bucky crawled into your bed looking bruised and battered, and you had found yourself in the crosshairs of Bucky’s enemies one too many times, you thought you had finally found happiness.

Bucky worried about you too. Being his girlfriend meant that he had a weakness to be exploited, and the fear grew over time after the first attack on your life just four months into your relationship. It had been a close call, but after that incident you moved into the Tower which had much safer security measures than your downtown apartment. It was probably more convenient to live literally where you worked, anyway.

The unexpected turning point, however, was seeing Bucky being wheeled into the medical wing on a gurney, unconscious with blood painting every exposed inch of his face. You were paralysed with fear, unable to even speak as you were ushered out of the room, dressed in your scrubs but far too incapable of being the one to tend to him.

He had made a full recovery, but this did little to ease your anxiety. A week after he’d been discharged, your fights began again.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Bucky said tersely, doing little to hide his frustration as you paced your room.

“And we’re having it again,” you said through gritted teeth. “Bucky, do you know how scared I was when I saw you? I literally couldn’t move – Steve had to basically carry me out of there. That’s never happened to me before. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think – I froze.”

Bucky’s face softened, knowing how terrified you were.

“That can’t happen again,” you continued, anger bubbling in your voice.

“What do you mean?” He dragged a hand across his face, looking exhausted.

“You almost died, Bucky.”

He scoffed. “They’ll have to try a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“Stop it!” You exclaimed loudly, turning on him, livid. “I know you always joke about things like that, but it’s not funny.”

“What do you want me to do?” It was a genuine question, and you were hyperaware of how tired Bucky looked in this moment. You felt guilty for adding to his existing stress, but you weren’t sure how you were going to cope anymore.

“Can you just – I don’t know, take a break?” You knew the words coming out of your mouth were silly, but you just wanted Bucky to stop. Stop getting hurt, stop getting injured, stop risking his life and risk taking himself away from you permanently.

“This is all I know,” Bucky said firmly. “You know that this is what I have to do.”

“Do you? Do you have to do it?” You challenged. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you knew you were being unfair but your stubbornness meant you had to stick to your guns.

“What do you expect? You want me to take a part-time job in a grocery store, instead?”

You didn’t take kindly to his snarky tone, bristling.

“I’m expecting you to take this relationship seriously.”

“What part of me doing my job means I don’t take this relationship seriously?” He shot back, looking irate.

“You’re supposed to take my needs into consideration, too. Nowadays, every time you leave, I think it might be the last time I see you.” Your voice cracked on the final word, and Bucky could see you crumbling as your eyes stung.

He quickly approached you, pulling you into a comforting hug as you sobbed into his chest. He was the only person you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with, and he had seen you cry more often than he’d like to.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart,” he murmured, pressing his lips into your hair.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you said, knowing he didn’t quite understand the extent of your fear, try as he may.

The argument ended with kisses melting into your skin and reassuring words in your ear, and you allowed him to comfort you, though you knew it was only temporary.

Anger was blinding Bucky’s better judgement.

It was Sam’s turn to be wheeled into the medical wing, but this time, it didn’t look like he would be as lucky. He was still human, after all, and it looked like HYDRA had managed to do a number on the Falcon.

Sam had to undergo emergency surgery as Bucky stalked up and down the waiting room. He was muttering under his breath, Sam’s blood still slick on his hands.

You rushed to the medical wing as soon as you heard, knowing that Sam was in the safe hands of your colleagues and that your boyfriend needed you. However, he barely acknowledged your presence when you burst through the doors, panic written on your face.

Bucky was torturing himself mentally. Replaying the events a couple of hours ago over and over in his head, watching as Sam crashed onto the concrete ground, wings smashed into smithereens and his body unresponsive, as the assailants got away. They hadn’t been outnumbered, but were taken by surprise at HYDRA’s unusually advanced tech. They had equipment that Bucky and Sam had not been prepared for and, unfortunately, struggled to combat.

Bucky had managed to get out unscathed bar a few scratches and bruises, but Sam was in much worse shape. Perhaps the worst Bucky had ever seen him.

He hated himself.

They were partners, and he had failed him.

“Bucky, are you alright?” You had been repeating that same question over and over again, but Bucky barely seemed to hear you. “I’ve looked at the team’s initial assessment - Sam should be okay.”

Okay? How could anything be fucking okay when HYDRA was still a threat to Bucky, to you, to everyone that he cared about? He was seething with anger, feeling hopelessness and rage consume him.

“I need to get out of here,” he grunted finally, shrugging you off and walking towards the doors. You recognised this response - he was shutting down, shutting you out, wanting to internalise his rage.

You gaped at him, pulling on his arm. “You’re not going anywhere. Can you please talk to me?” You knew what had happened had shaken him up, and you were determined not to let him wallow by himself.

“I know where their nest is,” Bucky spat, speaking to himself more than to you. “I can get them.”

You stared at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you serious? You can’t go in there by yourself.”

“Sam got hurt because we were too fucking scared to go straight for the target,” Bucky practically snarled. “We thought we could play a strategy, work bottom up. But fuck that, they almost killed us out there, and I’m fucking done.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said harshly, knowing that Bucky wasn’t thinking straight. “You’re going to go in there, guns blazing and get outnumbered and beat? Again?”

“I can get the backup,” Bucky grunted.

“You’re putting yourself and everyone else’s lives in danger,” you said sternly. “Stop it and use your brain for one second, James.” You were secretly terrified, knowing that nothing could stop Bucky once he had his mind set on something. What would you do if he went in there alone and unprepared? What would you do if he got injured like Sam?

Bucky glared at you, and you almost recoiled at the sight, but stood your ground. “You know I’m right. You are being stupid and reckless.” You kept your voice steady, staring him down.

He marched up to you, pointing to the room where Sam was currently being operated in. You flinched at how furiously his boots pounded against the ground.

“Sam could die because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, exasperated. “You need a plan of attack. I know you’re angry right now, but you need to be calm.”

You watched as he turned away from you and suddenly lashed out, punching a sizeable dent in the wall, making you jump.

“You don’t know shit.”

You grimaced, hating the way he was speaking to you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you said, a small scowl on your lips. “I’m scared, Bucky. I won’t have you going out there, especially not in this state of mind. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I can’t just sit here doing nothing knowing full well where they are,” Bucky said, jaw clenching. He was feeling so frustrated and didn’t know why you couldn’t seem to understand.

“I know you’re angry,” you repeated, making Bucky’s jaw tick, “but you’re thinking blindly, and you need me to make you see sense.”

“I don’t need you for anything,” he said sharply.

His back was still turned to you, but you could see how his shoulders immediately sagged out of their defensive position once the words left his mouth. You audibly gasped, taking a step back and swallowing hard. Your lower lip quivered uncontrollably.

The constricting in your heart was awfully painful as you absorbed his words, ringing loud and clear.

I don’t need you.

His words made one of your biggest insecurities become something fully tangible. The deep-rooted belief that, at the end of the day, Bucky didn't really have any use for someone like you.

Cursing, he turned back round to look at you properly, his face full of guilt at your crestfallen expression.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything at first, inhaling shakily. Trying to catch your breath.

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, unable to hide the tears in your eyes. He took a step forward but you walked backwards again, rapidly until your back thudded against the doors.

"I shouldn't have said that -" he began, hating the way he could see the way your nails were digging hard into your fleshy palms, the way you did whenever you felt upset. Your mouth was trembling and he knew you were trying so hard not to cry

“I’m going to go,” you said quietly, turning to make your hasty exit and ignoring his pleas for you to stay.

You said quietly in your room, mulling to yourself carefully about what had happened. You had locked yourself away as soon as you had assurance from your fellow doctors that Sam’s surgery had been a success.

Bucky’s words swam in your mind. You knew they were borne from anger, but they had to have some truth in it.

He didn’t need you, not really. What could you give him that someone else couldn’t? What’s more, you were just an ordinary human. Weak, expendable.

You felt a cold chill creep through your chest as you continued to let the thoughts swirl.

You didn’t want to make the mistake of believing that you were more important to him than you actually were.

You pulled your knees to your chest, sat on the ground at the foot of your bed. You hugged them tight as if they could provide you some comfort, letting your tears soak into the fabric of your jeans.

Bucky never had a bad word to say against you. He was always the first person to battle away your self-doubts, your self-loathing, your insecurities. You wondered if he had always secretly believed that he didn't truly need you.

It was insane how much words could hurt.

A gentle tapping at your door made you jump, and you knew instantly it was him. His voice followed shortly after, a gentle plead.

“Can you open the door?”

His voice was apologetic, and it just made you want to cry harder. You heard him sigh when you didn’t respond.

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I really didn’t mean it. I was just being a jerk.”

You forced yourself to stand up and padded over to the door, knowing that he could hear your movements. You took a deep breath and opened it, met by the sight of his handsome, guilt-ridden face.

“It’s okay,” you said curtly, shrugging. “You said what you said. And I think, to some extent, you meant it.”

He scanned your tear streaked face, knowing how hard you were trying to keep your expression cool and face emotionless.

Bucky’s face became anguished, frowning and shaking his head vehemently. He stepped forward, taking your hands in his, though yours remained limp in his large palms.

“I didn’t,” he said firmly. “Of course I didn’t mean it.”

Bucky knew he couldn’t just take his words back and pretend they never happened, and he despised that he had hurt you.

His emotions were complex, his anger raw and all-consuming. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he lashed out at your mere suggestion of reigning them in. He didn’t need to be placated – or so he thought – he just wanted to ride out that anger and hurt those people who posed a threat to everyone he cared about.

How could he make you think that he didn’t need you? Of course he needed you – you were his motivation for everything in life. You were his reason that he wanted to be better.

He should have listened to you when you tried to reason with him. He lost control of his feelings, and he was ashamed.

Bucky hugged you suddenly, circling his arms around you. He breathed in your scent, closing his eyes as you stood with your arms by your sides, unsure of what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed again, his words like silk in your ear. “Today has been kind of a shitty day. With HYDRA showing their faces again, and Sam getting hurt, and knowing that you could be in danger…it made me feel like I had to get out there and shut down any possibility of something happening to you. And I felt that I needed to do that alone, to be the one to eliminate the threat.”

You bit down on your lower lip, tears welling in your eyes again. You could feel the love radiating from Bucky as he held you, and it helped soothe the ache in your heart.

“When you tried to calm me down, I know you meant well, doll, I’m so sorry. But there was a voice in my head telling me that I have to do everything in my power to keep you safe, and when you told me not to do anything, I snapped.” His confession was wrought with honesty, and you softened your stance, raising your arms up to wrap around him, too.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed now.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, tilting your head back to look at him. “I know you just want to protect me.”

“Believe me,” he said sternly, eyes locked with yours, “that I need you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “I may be a fucking super soldier with a dumb metal arm and fight off bad guys, but I need you to remind me that I’m much more than just that.” He studied your face long and hard, making sure that you really understood him. Finally, he leaned down to kiss your lips. “Forgive me?”

“Mmm,” you murmured, unable to concentrate now as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer against his body, his solid chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe. I might need a little more convincing,” you muttered, pulling him into your room and closing the door behind him.

The door stayed shut for the rest of the evening.

[themimsyborogove]

Raphael Santiago + compliment

I’m sorry this took me so long. The writer’s block finally cracked a little.

——

Raphael Santiago did not give out compliments. Lily had learned that a long time ago.

But sometimes he slipped up. She had, after all, once heard—with her own ears—Raphael call Magnus Bane the best Downworld had to offer.

Those moments, when he was so caught up in rage at something else that he let his true feelings for the friends he usually pretended to barely tolerate show, were few and far between, but Lily had taken to lurking just out of sight whenever she noticed Raphael scolding other members of the clan, just in case she caught another slip, another glimpse at his true feelings.

And finally it had paid off.

A new member of the clan with more ambition than sense—Jessica or Jennifer, Lily thought she was called—had been trying to work her way into Raphael’s good graces and replace her as Raphael’s second in command.

When that hadn’t worked, Jessica-or-Jennifer and her turned-in-the-90s clique had decided to try violence instead.

Despite being outnumbered, Lily had held her own until Raphael had found them and broken up the fight by grabbing the girl preparing for another leap at Lily by the scruff of the neck and throwing her across the room.

“Enough,” he said, glaring at all of them.

His eyes lingered on Lily, taking in her wounds—a few nasty bruises and scrapes, and one deep gash down the inside of her arm that had cost her more blood than she liked.

“Lily, go tend your wounds,” he barked, with no hint of feeling. “The rest of you,” his voice became much colder as he turned to the rest of the group. “A word.”

Lily knew she needed to bandage the arm to stop the bleeding, and she would need to feed soon so it would heal. But she stopped halfway down the hall, slumping against the wall where she could still just barely hear Raphael’s voice as he started in on Jessica-or-Jennifer and her group.

“All of you are an embarrassment,” Lily strained to hear the sharp voice, low with fury. “If you can’t take someone on one-on-one, you have no business trying to usurp their position in the clan. All you’ve proven is that Lily is worth more than the five of you put together, and no other vampire in the clan is even close to being her equal. I expect all of you gone before sunrise or I’ll stake you myself.”

Lily smiled to herself. She did her best to straighten up, keeping one hand on the wall for balance while she made her way slowly back to her room.

Raphael thought no other vampire in the clan was close to being her equal. A slashed arm and some moderate-to-concerning blood loss was a price worth paying for that.

[butwhyduh]

Last night thing

Jason todd x reader

Summary: he stopped you from stealing a $25,000 watch but missed something else. Part 2 to Late night Thing.

Warning: kidnap, fighting, smut

As Jason pulled up his pants and contemplated his life choices of sleeping with a beautiful thief on a rooftop, he came to a conclusion. You stole his damn tie clip. He had said that he would break your hand if you tried to steal it and dammit, you had. Somehow it simultaneously made him mad and horny. How the fuck had you managed that?

Jason knew that he wouldn’t find you that night. So he went back to his safe house to lick his wounded pride and plan his next move. He needed to get that clip back. It was a gift from Alfred and he would literally kill for it. Though he seriously doubted that he’d need to do that. And Jason would never admit it but he didn’t want to kill you.

He planned to find you sometime during the next week. His tie clip was expensive but not extraordinarily expensive but you had to find someway to sell it without him finding it, which would take time. Jason just didn’t know that it would be the next day that he would find you.

He heard that Bane was throwing his weight around in the drug trade for some damn reason. Wasn’t his venom addition enough for one man? So Jason was snooping around, or investigating as the bats liked to say. He fully expected a boring night of listening in a warehouse for hours and learning very little but instead almost fell through the glass at the sight before him.

You were strapped to a chair with rope. The pretty dress you wore the night before was in tatters but you were covered. Your eyes were red and your nose had dried blood underneath it. You were shivering like a leaf.

“I’m not here to negotiate with you. I’m here for Cat Woman. You are her child and she will come or you will die,” Bane said casually. You gasped.

“She’s going to be mad. Why would she work with you after this?” You asked, braver than you felt. He turned and coldly looked at you before stalking over. His giant fingers wrapped around your throat and you thrashed in the chair.

Jason stood up and moved to jump into the fight despite the fact that he really didn’t want to fight the brute. But Bane let you go and you audibly gasped and sucked air through open lips. You trembled and heaved.

“If she does not care about you, I will move on to her next kitten,” he said and you gulped. You didn’t know if she would save you. Jason looked through the room for a strategy. 2 exits and the skylight he currently looked through. 3 goons that he could easily take out. Oh, and a 300 pound juiced up super soldier. That broke Batman’s back years ago. Fuck.

“Let me go and I’ll do anything you want,” you said and even Jason up high in the rafters could hear the waver in your voice. Bane turned and stared at you and your mind almost couldn’t comprehend the massive size of him. He was easily half a foot taller than Red Hood and almost 100 pounds heavily and Red Hood towered over you.

“What could I possible want from you,” he asked with an icy curiosity. He was watching you for a reaction. You wanted to shrink away but that would be a failure.

“Anything you could want. Information,” you suggested. “About Gotham.”

“I have my sources.”

“Uhhh,” you breathed. “Gems? Money?” He shook his head. Your heart hammered in your chest. He was a man, right? You could sell that maybe? “Me?” You breathed.

He laughed before looking you up and down. “I do not want you carnally, child,” he said. You almost sagged in relief and Jason’s hand released the gun he didn’t know he was holding. “No. We will wait for Cat Woman and if she doesn’t come in 2 days, you are dead.”

You hummed in fear. Bane sat crossed legged and closed his eyes. He threatened to kill you and then fucking meditated. You helplessly pulled at the ropes on your wrists.

Jason tried to piece together how you got there and how to get you out. He knew that he couldn’t exactly call Bruce. ‘Hey dad, do you want to fight the guy who broke your back over a thief he has tied up. Why? I don’t know! I just like fucking her on rooftops!’ Never saying that.

Nope. Instead he would attempt stealth. Against one of the best trained fighters in the world for a woman that robbed him. Yea, maybe Jason should have stayed 6 feet under because he’s a fucking idiot. He sighed before slowly moving towards them. Bane was sitting cross legged with his eyes closed in a meditation back to you.

You suddenly saw Jason out the corner of your eyes and your eyes widened before going back to normal. Bane didn’t seem to notice the slight change in your breathing. Jason snuck over to untie you. He slowly pulled the rope from around your wrists and you were almost completely untied when the end of the rope barely grazed the ground.

Bane snapped his head around as Jason drew his guns. You gasped as Bane launched himself towards Jason. You ripped your hand out of the rope as bullets flew. You scrambled to the floor but was quickly pulled up by the giant man. He clutched you by the shoulder and you whimpered in pain. Jason suddenly froze.

“This is far more interesting that I first thought. I looked for a cat and found a bat,” he laughed. You squirmed in pain. He sat you down but the hand stayed on your shoulder.

“She’s not important. Let her go,” Jason said. The metallic voice from his helmet sounded bored.

“If she is unimportant, she is better off dead,” he said roughly pulling you in his arms and one hand gently wrapped around your throat but didn’t tighten it. You grabbed at his fingers and sobbed pathetically. Your eyes were wide and terror was plain on your face.

“Let’s not. Put the lady down and we can talk,” Jason said and it was weird to see Red Hood negotiating. He was usually the muscle in the situation. It really showed you how fucked you really were.

“Okay I’m intrigued. I will hear your proposal,” he said sitting you down. You scampered behind Jason. Your whole body trembled.

“I know Gotham underground better than you ever will. Sorry but you’re scary as shit but not in a good way,” he said with a shrug. If you didn’t know any better, he seemed casual. “I can get you the venom you need. No cost for a while.”

“How long,” Bane asked. He was the kind so get all the facts before proceeding. He also had the weakness of being completely addicted to venom.

“A months worth.”

“6 months.”

“3 months.”

“Deal. If you break this deal I will crush her windpipe with my hand,” he said with no emotion. It was a promise, not a threat. Jason felt you move closer to him.

“Deal,” Jason agreed. Bane moved closer and you clung to Jason. You were clinging to Red Hood. How pathetic. Jason stood taller and stared at Bane. They shook hands.

Suddenly Bane slapped Jason violently across the face and you yelped. Jason went to the ground but quickly got up to a defensive crouch. You jumped in front of him with your heart beating so fast you would soon faint.

“For invading my space and my business,” Bane said before walking away. “Leave.” He didn’t turn to watch.

You noticed a little crack in the Red Hood helmet. How hard did Bane hit him? Jason stood up and pulled you out of the warehouse with him. He quickly grabbed you and shot his grappling hook out of the area. About half a mile away, he landed on a building. You clung to him and trembled.

“Hey, you’re safe,” he said. “You can let go.”

You pulled off but shivered like a leaf.

“Shit, you’re cold. Here. Here,” he wrapped his jacket around you and it helped your temperature but not your shivering. “Come here,” he pulled you in his arms and you clung. His heartbeat felt reassuring and he awkwardly patted your hair. You could tell Jason wasn’t used to providing comfort.

“He- he,” you started but stopped. “Can we go somewhere safe?”

“Come on downstairs. This is my place,” he said and you nodded. You followed him inside and it was far warmer but you couldn’t stop the shaking. His jacket was replaced by a blanket and Jason sat you on the couch. The helmet came off but domino stayed on. You practically climbed on his lap to be closer. Your eyes were still wide with horror.

You’d been arrested, harassed, even shot at. But never kidnapped like that. And by the giant Bane at that. Jason could feel the fear and adrenaline coming off of you. He rubbed your back softly. You looked up at him suddenly after a few minutes.

“You saved my life. You put yours in danger to save mine,” you breathed. He shrugged, a little uncomfortable under your gaze. “Thank you,” you added.

“Uh you’re welcome. It’s no biggie.”

“Yes it is,” you said before kissing him. Your pace was dizzying and rough. Jason was in shock at first. Your hands roamed his body before dropped down to his belt and he almost jolted up.

“Not today,” he said, stopping your hand. “I mean, normally I’d love to but not now. Give it a few days.”

“Why?” You said with your voice all breathy. Your lips were swollen and eyes dark and he almost gave in.

“You were just kidnapped. You need sleep. Not sex,” he said sliding away from you. “Are you hungry?”

“Wh- you don’t think I could want you?”

“I’m not in the mood. Almost getting killed by Bane really kills the urge,” he lied. If he thought you were in your right mind, he would have fucked you on the rooftop or against the first surface he found. You jumped in front of Bane for him. He found it all incredibly hot. “You need a shower anyways.”

It was cold and cruel but better than sleeping with a traumatized woman. You shook and nodded before using his shower. Jason felt twinges of guilt but ignored them. He knew it was better this way.

You came in nothing but his t shirt that hung like a dress. “Nothing else fit,” you said awkwardly. He could see the scars that covered your legs and bruises around your throat.

“We can lay in bed,” Jason said just as awkwardly. He might know what to do with a woman who wants to fuck him but not just one sleeping over. “For sleeping.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t try anything,” you said with a little smile and he smiled back. You both laid in the bed and it wasn’t long until you pressed your back against his chest and pulled his arms around you. He was strong and safe. You managed to sleep all night with the anticipated nightmares. They had time later to come up. When you weren’t cradled in his arms.

The next morning you woke up warm. The rise and fall of his chest was comforting. His hand held your waist loosely and you could seriously just stay in this moment. But as soon as you moved, you almost giggled like a teenager. He was hard and pressed against your ass.

“Ignore that,” he mumbled.

“Okay... how?” You said after a few seconds. “Because it’s pretty unforgettable for the man I like to sleep with to have his hard dick pressed against my ass. Have to say.”

“We only did it once in a rooftop. Was it that unforgettable?” He said and you could hear the smirk he wore.

“It was alright,” you said playfully but you couldn’t help but press back into him. Jason grabbed your hip to stop you.

“Trying to get me horny?”

“I think you already are.”

“That’s true,” he said before grinding against your ass. You pushed back to do your own rubbing. “And you’re not even wearing any panties,” he said bunching up the fabric of his shirt you wore. He slapped your ass soundly and you gasped.

“What was that for?”

“My tie clip. I hope you still have it,” he said before slapping your ass again. You reached behind you to grasp his cock through his sweatpants.

“I’ll get it back to you,” you said. His pants were pushed down. Jason hummed and rubbed his dick between your thighs. You sighed at the sensation and arched your back so he was sliding between your folds instead.

“You’d better,” he growled but it had no true heat. Not when he was so close to finally fucking you and had his lips leaving little marks on your shoulder and neck. You tried to press back onto him but he stopped your hips.

“Do you deserve it,” he asked running a finger along your hip, every once in a while dipping between your thighs to barely touch your clit. You jumped and grabbed at his wrist to hold him there but he just chuckled and moved away from where you needed him. His thrusting between your folds felt amazing but not enough and he was purposefully avoiding sliding in your hole. Jason quite liked the way your body panted and curved in desperation.

Finally feeling that you had been tortured enough, and he wanted in your wet heat, he pressed his hips forward and filled you. You whimpered and leaned your head back against him.

“Yes,” you breathed. Jason took his time slowly thrusting, letting you fill his full length. His free hand moved from pinching your nipple to circling your clit. You were practically clenching him from the start and he loved it. You were so receptive.

It didn’t take long for him to find a pattern that just got you a little more vocal and focused on that. “God, you’re fucking wet,” he breathed in your ear and you whimpered. You seemed to like what he had to say.

“Taking me so well. Acting like such a good girl,” he said and you breathed out a “Hood” in response. Oh yeah, you didn’t even know the name of the man that you let fuck you. You trusted him enough to sleep in his bed and you’d never even seen his eyes.

His finger circling your clit and cock angled to drag along your g spot had you seeing stars as you came around him. Jason grunted and held your hips tight before quickly pulling out to cum on your ass. He looked as the pretty white beads covered your skin. He wasn’t forgetting that image any time soon. He reached for a towel to clean you up.

Afterwards you turned in his arms and kissed him soundly before lying your head on his chest. You reached up to play with his hair with a little smile on your face. Jason could get used to this. As soon as he thought it, he had the urge to jump up and kick you out. He didn’t do permanent. You were just having fun.

“I need a shower,” he said roughly, getting up. Jason couldn’t help but notice the disappointment on your face that you quickly hid.

“I should get going before my walk of shame gets any later,” you said with an awkward laugh.

“Borough anything you need,” he said before disappearing into his bathroom. While in the shower he had time to think. Yeah, I’m totally not broken to be cool with fucking a woman but not being able to hold her. Not a sign of being fucked up at all, Jason thought. Probably got that from Bruce. Though my real dad probably did it too.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and immediately saw a note on the bed.

Had fun, Hood. We should do it again sometimes, (your number)

💕 Kitten

His tie clip was set underneath it. Jason smiled. Okay, this could be fun. He was young and sowing wild oats or whatever, right?

There was no way this could go wrong, right?

[kissesandcream]

a smol sibling.,

w/ xiao, kaeya, & venti

— • request from anon : being the trio’s younger sibling! (separately)

xiao p1 || kaeya p1 || gn ! sibling ! reader || headcanon format || 1.5k words

; masterlist.,

; a / n - i’ve done xiao and kaeya before, but i had some more ideas so i’m making some more! links above if you’d like to read the others <3

xiao .,

• the other hcs i made for him where general, but here anon specified a younger sibling, so i’ll do that!

• he’s that sibling who’ll pretend ur the most annoying thing on the planet but would do anything for u so much as you ask

•��“xiao when u come back could i have some glaze lilies” “get them yourself im the vigilant yaksha not a flower picker🙄” mhm then why did u literally wipe out qingce village’s flower population hm xiao 🤨

• teaches u how to fight!! but he’s not teaching he’s “helping you discover things yourself so you can be a functional person”

• it takes way too much effort to get this man to admit he loves you but you know it as much as he does so it’s okay <3

• cloud retainer has so much dirt on him it’s crazy. if you ever need some blackmail material head over to hers. also you can find some embarassing pictures she’s got a heckton

• verr goldet takes care of u a lot too, xiao’s a great brother and all but he lacks in this department called self care

• idk if you’re mortal or adeptus or half adeptus but if you need to eat and do basic body functions he does not got u covered

• mans would try to raise u on almond tofu until verr goldet bought out a food pyramid and explained about these things called nutrients 

• he also doesn’t understand how important sleep is so,,, “xiao i’m gonna stay up” “yeah sure whatever” passing out two days later “y/N WHAT’S WRONG-”

• yeah verr goldet and the innkeeper guy give him a guide to basic survival talk and all through it he’s glaring at you like why did you never tell me you needed human things to live >:( 

• now that he knows you need sleep, he makes u sleep at 8 pm every night like a grandpa!! good luck trying to get him to stop!!

• are these getting too guardian-like and less sibling-like??? 😭 but that’s the vibes he gives yk!! ur over protective adeptus parent-brother who has no clue how u work but wants to try to understand a little

• in the game u can tell how much more open he gets wit the traveller as friendship levels progress, and if you’ve maxed it out he’d basically do anything for you and would want you to trouble him than yourself

• and he’ll probably be closer with you than he’ll ever be with traveller since you’re siblings and whatnot, so it would make sense that he looks out for you more than your typical older brother yk

• plays the flute for you!! if he hears u humming a tune under your breath he’ll find it and learn it to play for u 

• he may not fully understand how relationships work but he’s trying his best for u <3

 kaeya .,

• my other kaeya hcs were in relation to you being close / living with diluc, but these will be more general and central towards kaeya!

• kaeya fits literally every older brother trope that exists. the brother who’s always got ur back? you got it. the brother who keeps secrets you don’t know about from you? heck yeah. the annoying brother who makes u do his chores for him? maybe a little too much.

• pls he (lovingly) shoves all of his small tasks onto u it’s infuriating but you can’t even say no bc then he gets all dramatic 

• “y/n 😩 you’re abandonning your dear brother like this 😩 how could you 😩 i didn’t know you were so cruel 😩” sir shut up <3

• since he’s a people person everyone knows u very well too, heck all the senior citizens probably voted u as second best in law after him or smth idk man 

• hanging out with best boy bennett!! he canonically sees kaeya as an older brother too so y’all def go on little adventures together <3

• ur one of the only people who have ever looked under his eyepatch, diluc and crepus being the only other two

• sometimes he forgets to take it off when he goes to bed and it leaves a bruise bc it’s pretty tight, so he let’s you change it for him 

• “i can do this myself, you know” well he can but you both know he likes it better when you’re there

• does not allow your closet to be anything less than exquisite, you’ve got a bunch of scarfs like his whether you like it for not

• makes u buy his wine from diluc for him bc every time he goes to the tavern diluc raises the price tenfold just for him

• he’s that sibling who will rile you up on purpose just for the fun of it. i have a cousin who used to do that when he was younger and it was annoying but he still adores me sm so i don’t mind <3

• besides even if he does get on ur nerves amber’s got ur back- you can rant to her about him for hours on end and she’ll add with her experiences with kaeya’s bullying

• what are siblings if not for sibling rivalry, yes he picks on u constantly but he also picks u up when you’re feeling low <3

venti .,

• oh my gods he would be sO FUN

• the two of you are the bane of diluc’s existence, venti loops u into his winery pilfering plans a lot 

• venti pulls the archon card if the two of you get caught by him idk what excuse you’ve got but it better be good 😭

• no way the god of wind and song’s sibling doesn’t love music- even if you’re tone deaf, or hard of hearing, music is about the pleasure it brings and he’ll bring it to you

• you guys go wind gliding a lot of the time too!! y’all don’t even need gliders you’ve got the power of anemo 😎

• he’s that cool brother who’s only rule is that you do whatever you want to do, life is too short for regrets so live in the moment and be spontaneous!

• even though he’s older he seems much younger than you at heart 😭 will wine if you don’t do something for him it’s hilarious

• you’ve got other things to do and he’s just “but hanging out!!!” and ur like “but work!!!” 

• it’s very hard to be productive with him around, he will distract u with something as mundane as an apple- it’s not his fault tho bb just has a poor attention span 😭 

• he’s very clingy, if you’re together he’ll link your elbows like everyone did in sixth grade, and in turn u can kick him in the kneecaps when he does stupid things

• he’s the ceo of stupid things so u get to kick him a lot, it’s a mutal symbiotic relationship we love to see it <33

• my brain is dead and i can’t english rn but. his vibes yk he’s so fun to be around, he gives out surprisingly killer advice too

• i have this man’s teapot lines plastered on my wall bc they help me deal with stuff, so if you’re ever down you can always, always, always go to him and he’ll have the exact things to say

• if it’s words, he has them, if it’s silence you need he’ll lend you his shoulder; but there was never an instance he doesn’t leave you better than before

• you haven’t seen his archon side a lot, since he doesn’t show it all that much, but it’s so far from venti it’s a little scary; but in a sort of admiring way yk

• you guys visit zhongli sometimes, and it’s a free real estate for blackmail material bc of how terrified venti is of him

• zhongli is like that long lost uncle who visits once a year, and you’re his favorite child so he gives you candy and picks on venti for not taking good enough care of you

• “i’m their sibling not their parent” “you’re older have some responsibility >:(”

• if you ever get drunk he will hear about it and will come all the way from liyue to i will have order venti’s head, regardless of whether he was the cause of you being drunk or not

• that about wraps it up! im sure i could think of more but my brain is sorta dead rn so this will have to suffice 😭 i can’t think of a closing statement sO i hope u enjoyed!! bye bye!! <3

[trifoliumrex]

Assassin X Roommate Chapter 1

A Jungkook/ Reader/Jimin Fic

You need a roommate. Jimin and Jungkook need a place to stay. The only problem is you think they are students when in reality they are assassins on the hunt for their next target. How do you survive when you get tangled up in a world of blood and bullets?

Word Count: 4657

Updates Friday

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40321704/chapters/101000544

Next: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/trifoliumrex/690483552316424192?source=share

   Jimin can hear his pulse pounding in his ear. His blade is tight in his grip. This kill would tie him with that motherfucker, put him in the running for the top position and get his fucking agency off his back. Get his handle to give him the space to breathe that he craves. That he needs.

    He sees his target. An old man. Jimin doesn't know who wants him dead or why. Sometimes they tell him most of the time they don't. He only asks questions he needs to know for his targets to fall and this man was an easy one. He held up in his safe room all his many men already dead at his feet. The client wanted this to be bloody. To be messy. That's why they hired him specifically. Jimin always made a mess when he could. It made him feel like he had control, even if that was mostly bullshit.

    He draws his blade and a shot rings out. There is a cry of rage that takes Jimin a moment to realize is coming from him. He turns and sees the larger man leaning against the door frame like he's been there for hours. If Jimin allows himself the luxury of being honest he might have.

    The thing about Jungkook, the most infuriating thing was that Jungkook was better at him than this at everything really. He was stronger, better with a gun, better connected and his agency simply had resources Jimin's couldn't even dream of. Jimin makes a dash for him anyway. 

    Trying to become the number one by a different tactic. By bleeding the life out of his only rival. Its just not fucking fair. Everything came easy to Jungkook. The golden child is the bane of his existence. Jimin intends to make him suffer for it.

    Jimin is wrong. Not about Jungkook being better than him, he's wrong about it being easy. He has to work very hard to beat Jimin. When Jungkook had started he had been good but it wasn't until he had bested Jimin for the first time that he had taken any real pleasure from the job. He lives for showing the older smaller man up.

    He smirks and doges Jimin's blade deftly. He makes it look easy but it's something he had to study carefully. Most hit men didn't have the defense training that Jungkook possessed. He had it expressly so he could dangle his toes into the pools of Jimin's wrath. 

    Jungkook has the audacity to smirk at him before pointing his gun at Jimin. He doesn't even recoil just keeps charging. “Bang” he says just to prove to them both that if he wanted to he could kill Jimin right where he stands. 

    Jimin reaches for him again. This is an old dance between them. Jimin never catches up. This time is no exception. By the time he loses Jungkook, that bitter fear creeps into him. He knows what comes next. He’s long since given up trying to fight it. Not when there is a deeply embedded device in his neck. It starts to go off electrocuting him from the inside out for collection. They used to wait, but he has thrown a fit once, this was deemed more efficient.

    When he wakes up he has no idea how long he’s been out. His whole body hurts so he assumes it's been at least a few days. He has new bruises. His handler must have already doled out his punishment. That fucking Jungkook. 

   He’s back in his stark apartment. All a dinghy white only a bed and desk with a computer and chair. They hadn't even bothered to get him a place with a kitchen. Why did he waste his time? He was lucky there was a private bathroom. The rest of his agency was all out the compound. Jimin is pretty sure they keep in here so he’s isolated. He used to at least be allowed to see people other than his handler. He used to at least get to pretend to be a person.

   His door is opened and his handler walks in. He is a large man with cold eyes and a smile always just at his lips. The man enjoys the little flinch Jimin tries to hide from him. He hands Jimin a file. Printed off just for him. He’s not allowed to use the computer without supervision after all. An attack dog is only good after all when you keep it on a leash.

   Jimin thumbs threw the file. The mark is a frat boy. He apparently likes to drug girls and make videos with them passed out underneath him. Sometimes with friends sometimes alone The clients were one of the girl's parents who were surprisingly wealthy and well connected. Their daughter had killed herself after a video of her spread around campus like wildfire. They want a mess and they want it at one of the parties. At least 300 guests. They want him and his family humiliated.

    Jimin can do that. He starts making a plan. He was smart. Good at planning. His handler hands him a suitcase and a stack of bills. “Try not to need anything else.  It will cost you if it does” His handler always takes half Jimin's budget and pockets it. He wonders if he knows. He hoped so. “This is an important client. If you disappoint us I'm going to have to take something from you. I don't think a toe will be enough this time.” His hand gently touches Jimin's small hands. So suited for a blade. 

    He’ll run out of things they can take from him soon. The look of hate Jimin shoots at him is bordering on defiance. His dog is dangerously close to biting. He could always shock him but it was taking them longer and longer to get him enough voltage to shock him and longer and longer to wake him up. They’ll need to get him to care about something eventually. 

    “I've called you a cab. Be a good boy and get this done for us. I really hate to have to punish you” his hand leaves Jimin's pretty hand and goes to his pretty face. He might have been a better whore. Maybe if he fails again he’ll have to find a new job. He thinks he enjoys seeing how much force it would take to force this proud man to truly bend to the will of another. More things to take from him if he’s not the asset they trained him to be. 

    Jimin pulls out of his grasp. The hate that is boiling from his expression is such a delight. “Touch my face again and you will lose your hand” Jimin knows what this man wants from him. He thinks his handler might purposely sabotage him to insure he fails some missions so he can get it. Who knows what he’s already taken from his unconscious body.

     His handler, a man he’s known as long as he can remember. He is the only one who is able to speak Jimin directly. Jimin doesn't even know his name. He knows he doesn't have the power to harm him. When the slap falls around his mouth, not even particularly hard, just degrading, followed by a pat that is so condescending, Jimin can almost feel it dripping down his skin. 

    He gets in the cab already waiting without any more fuss. He’s pleased at least he doesn't have to get on a plane. It's something. He needs to find a place to live. Close to campus but far enough away that his not going to class draws no attention to him. 

    Miles away you look at your house. Your house. It feels so strange to say. It was once a grand house but now? You put your hands on your hips and sigh. You could handle the repairs. Most of them anyway. The only problem was the house was only about 80% paid off. 

    You had inherited the thing from your late aunt and the idea of being able to flip and sell it is intoxicating. It just meant one small thing. You need a roommate to help stretch your meager earnings in front of the job your aunt's connections had afforded you at the student bookstore despite the fact that you were not a student. 

    You look at your stack of papers printed on the cheapest astro brite paper you could find and grab your staple gun. Putting a roll of tape around your wrist like the world's most hideous bracelet. You pick up the stack and sigh again. 

    You look around the house, only partially clear of the copious amounts of the medical equipment still left from your aunt. Not to mention the few rooms most of the items that had been in the common areas had shoved int. She hadn't been a hoarder exactly but a collector and the simple collection of things had quickly become overwhelming. She’s been gone for only about a month. You knew her passing was coming but still it didn't exactly lessen the blow of her passing. Not really. 

    It was made worse by the nagging fact that no matter what you did next your old life was gone. Your family had become convinced that the woman had been rich and honestly at one time rehabs she had been but all of the money she had had went to her medical bills. They were convinced that you had inserted yourself into her life and now had your hands on her enormous fortune. 

    You friends didn't understand how you could just leave them and with  most, you had all but fallen out of touch with most of them and your job, not a great one that had long since replaced you. You had no choice but to start over. 

     With your full time job benign taking care of you aunt you hand even have had a chance to meet anyone. Not anything more than the most casual or acquaintances and your co-workers, though nice enough, seemed a bit wary of you, just a touch older and not in any of their classes. They have been nice enough but still. Still you feel rather alone.

    You hope you get a nice roommate, maybe one who will share their pretty dresses with you and show you what shade of lipstick looks best one you. You slap your cheeks twice. Focus. No point in trying for a fantasy when what you really wanted was a practical roommate who would pay rent on time. That's all. If you get more great but set your expectations low you remind yourself. 

     You staple a flier up as you fight the wave of emotion that floods you. You're not the tallest and if you don't you doubt it will attract anyone's attention. This particular is a garish green that seems to glow in the light. You hate the way it looks. Your own personal taste is soft colors and neutrals and there is something about this that sets you teeth on edge. 

    There is something cathartic about the sound of the staple gun though. It reminds you of doing your home repairs, your little projects you enjoyed so much. You had always excelled at shops close to your county school being one of the few that still had it and you loved learning more about building or tools whenever you could. Youtube, regulars at the hardware store it doesn't matter.

     Helping your aunt has been a little like it. Repairing. Only she had deteriorated so fast in the end that it was like trying to repair an actively sinking ship. Each nail you hammer in to put boards up to tray and stonch the water is just another place for the water to seep in. Fuck. You slap your cheeks again as if to wake yourself up from a slumber.

    It hadn't been a shock. You had both made peace with it but still. Still there was lingering wrongness. Still not exactly. Maybe an emptiness? But it was different then just a hollow spot because there was still her presence that lingered like a ghost as malignant as the tumors that had killed her. 

    The growth. 

     It was hard to think of it like that when she had gotten so small. She had been so big when you were a kid. So full of life. In the end she had been little more than a skeleton. You had not entered that room since they had taken her body. The bed she had died on in the night. There was more than one sealed room in your house but that one is the closest to being a mausoleum.

    There were so many goodbyes but had there been that final one? Or had they just been having a good night? Has there ever been that? She had been so weak. Hadn’t responded in days. You couldn't remember. 

    All you could remember when you closed your eyes to catch your breath was her lying there in pain too weak to even move and.

    And your phone rings, breaking your revelry. Shit. An unknown number. You answer anyway. You’ve put up a few posters and you know student housing is a bit of a mess. “Hello?” You answer. You can tell from the second you pick up that the connection is crap.

    You hear someone with a high voice. A woman maybe but you can't tell definitely one way or the other. You are pretty sure they set up an appointment to come and see the place tomorrow. You want to stop putting up your posters. You don't love the idea of your number being out but what if they don't want to live in a fixer upper? You had to be prepared for them to say no.

    You get up the next morning ridiculously early. You sit on the porch unsure of the exact time you set up. The phone connection having been too poor to be sure. Still you have nothing to do on your day off and you have a large cup of iced coffee. You like to watch the sun rise anyway. Always having been an early bird anyway.

    Jimin holds your fire in his hand with his own cup of coffee. Hot, not cold, and black absolutely no sugar. He doesn't like things. How strange then that his first thought when he sees you is that you look sweet. Sweet enough to savor. The way you look up at the rising sun stretched out and looking content. He wants to feel like that, The second thought he has is annoyed. He wanted to use the place. Who got up at sunrise. Your head turns at a sound and he does as well. 

    Are you fucking kidding. Jungkook? Here?!

    Jungkook actually got into town a day before Jimin. Unlike Jimin, planning had never been his forte. He hadn't needed it to be. He often as not he just copied Jimin's work. He figured with a payday like this Jimin would also be hired. Shit probably others. Maybe that ridiculous girl who called herself the snake. 

    So when he saw Jimin grab that horrible flier from a pole he grabbed the same one to find out what Jimin was thinking. He didn't like it when Jimin's face went blank. He wanted to know what he was thinking. 

    A house. Ok that was a good step. And from that room with the balcony you might even be able to see the frat house the mark was at. Who were you though? And why were you looking at Jimin like that? Like your the fucking sun. Jungkook doesn't like it not one bit.

    Until you turn the same face on him. You wave excitedly. Too exuberant and he watches your thoughts play out on you face the embarrassment and regret as you put your hand down. If you had a tail it would wagging.

    “High! Are you guys the couple from the phone?” Jimin's eyes narrow but Jungkook puts his arm around his waist pulling him to him. Jimin considers killing him right here. But his eyes go back to you. He likes to make a mess. Like to cause pain on assignment if that's what the client is and you are not a client and the way you're looking at him? He doesn't ruin it. 

   “Yeah, my boyfriend called. Your flier says one room, can we see it?” You nod excitedly and lead them instantly glad you left all the windows open. Jungkook appraises the place. It was probably nice once. It's not terrible now, a little cluttered by things he had to guess went yours. “Is this your place?”

    “It was my aunt. All mine now.” You give the tour. You explain the repairs you intend to make all excitement and bubbly joy despite a lingering sadness that seems to cling to you. Two natures at war in you. You seem to forget that you are even trying to get them to stay. The one room is clearly the master bedroom and Jimin wonders what room is yours.

    Jimin can smell the faintest smell of death. It's mixed with bleach. He looks at you seriously. “Did someone die here?” your face falls and you get quiet. Jungkook could slap him. You were clearly undercharging for this place and it would be a pain to have to get a different place where he can’t keep an eye on the competition.

    “Yes, my aunt she was sick” you look up in sudden fear. “No like anything contagious or anything” You stammer out and Jimin just shrugs looking at the closet space. 

   “Just wondering. I don't mind” 

    You look relieved and even let out a little sigh. Jungkook watches your face change like it's the most interesting show he's ever seen, spacing out for a moment then chimes in. He needs to make this little creep seem like a normal person. “The medical equipment down stairs.”

    “Oh. don’t worry I’m going to have someone come help me move it! I didn't expect anyone to call so soon. I just need to make an appointment.” You needed to wait till payday. You do some calculations in your mind fuck how were you going to do that and get the supplies to fix your wall in your bedroom that had a crack. 

    “If you’ll rent us two rooms I’ll move it. We’ll pay double of course” You eyes light up but just as quickly your face falls. Hmm do you need money? 

    “I do have a second room but it's not cleared out yet. It would take me a little time” You look so nervous. It's too easy what if they were creeps. 

   “If you let us move in today we can put down the deposit. Take your time” You eyes like up. You are so expressive. Jungkook wants to see all your expressions. He watches you realize something. He wonders if were planning on charging them a deposit. You seem unprepared for this.

    “You're sure? That would be so great. I was so happy when I got your call. I feel so much better living with a dating couple.” Jungkook digs around in his wallet and pulls out cash. Your eyes widen in shock. Who has this kind of cash on them these days. 

    “Will three months be enough?” You look at it. Of course it would be enough. This would let you do many repairs and. He watches you look guilty as you count out the cash he’s given you. Is it not enough?

    “No. I mean yes” you handed him two months back. You don't think it's fair to have them pay a deposit, not with the house the way it is. Even if it would help. “Here. One month is fine since you are giving me a week to clean out the room.” you hold out two months back at him. He can tell you don't want to give it back.

    Why do it then? 

     Are you up to something? You haven't made them sign anything or run a background check. You seem worried. You are worried. You don't have a car and caring this much to the back seems dangerous. 

    So we have a deal?” Jimin asks looking up. Better Jungkook's money than his. Jimin puts his one suitcase in the closet. He will unpack later. Not that there is much to unpack.

     “Yes! Of course thank you so much for responding so quickly. My name is Y/n”

Jungkook takes your hand. It's soft but with a few surprising calluses. You weren't kidding when you talked about your repairs then. “Well, I’m Jungkook and my cute little boyfriend hear is Jimin”

    “Hi Jimin! It's really nice to meet you!” Jimin looks up again. He is surprised to find that you look like you mean it. He stands up suddenly and kisses Jungkook. Hi bites down on his lip till he tastes blood and then puts on a dazzling smile. 

    “Can you finish up here sweety? I have something I have to take care of. Nice to meet you, Y/n” Jungkook chuckles. Vicious little thing isn't he? The public affection makes you blush and Jimin almost regrets the action. He wonders if a kiss from him to you would make you blush as pretty. Oh well not like he’ll be here long any way. Jimin offers you a polite bow and heads off to find whoever actually called you and persuade them to find different accommodations. 

   You offer to help Jungkook move his stuff in grateful that the furnished room was attractive to him. He seemed to travel light. They seem young, about your age give or take and maybe they were going to live in the dorms. 

     Jungkook agrees and you help take in bags from his very nice vintage car. It's flashy and you can tell it costs a lot of money even if you don't know shit about cars. You take in his all black look and wonder if he was trying to be cool or if he just exudes it naturally. You  stand just out of view of the trunk so you don’t accidentally pry. He hands you the lightest suitcase. Just clothes in that one. He doesn't seem to mind when you linger at the doorway. Curious about what he’s unpacking.

    Every item he pulls out is clearly expensive but also impeccably chosen if they are almost all black. You linger at the doorway unsure whether you should leave or stay. Nervous. He gestures for you. “You can get a better look if you want.” 

    You look embarrassed but you do want to see. You come over and sit on the edge of his bed still sipping at your coffee. He watches you try and fail not to ooh and aah at every single piece. Unlike Jimin, Jungkook does make money at his life's work. A lot of money. After buying the car he had started to buy clothes. Nice ones. Usually the only people who get close enough to appreciate ended up dead.

    You half reach out to one of his big sweaters. One he uses to hide his guns. Do you have a gun you need to hide? He holds it out to you and is charmed by your delight. “It's so soft!”

    “It is! Do you like soft clothes?”

     “Yeah but I always get them snagged on nails or covered in paint” you look remorseful for all your fallen sweaters. You let it drop from your fingers and think about what you have in the other room. The bed is fine but you’ll need to get new sheets and pillows at the very least. You feel the wad of cash in your pocket growing lighter already. You get up and stretch just a little.

    Jungkook's eyes track your movement. He enjoys the way you're not even a little guarded. You have no idea what you just invited into your home. “Do you want some coffee? I'm going to get a second cup” he eyes your empty cup. Reusable and almost a liter. Maybe caffeine was your preferred poisoning method. 

     You lead him down to the kitchen. your refrigerator is suspiciously barren other than a large dispensing jar filled with the light brown liquid. “You can have some of this if you want, or I can make you a hot cup. I only have a keurig but it's faster at least”

    “How do you get the jar filled up?” Jungkook asks. He sees no larger coffee maker. He frowns. 

     “Very slowly. I will say maybe 50% of it is …other things.” He smiles looking at it. It looks ok but there is so much. How long would it take?

     “What else?” Why did you say it like that? You frown trying to remember 

    “In this iteration? Tea, it’s cheaper, some coconut milk and a little oat milk that I had left over” you don't remember what kind of tea it was.

    “What do you call it?” He decides he wants it. He wants to know what you guzzle down like its water.

     “The concoction!” you say with pride.

     “I'll take it” You get him a glass. It's smaller than yours and he watches in mild horror as you fill your liter bottle up again. You glance up at the second bedroom. There is actually one more, the room your aunt died in but you're not ready to do that. Move box after box of her box out to the curb though? You could do that.

     He watches your thoughts play out on your face again and wants you to tell him everything. Hopefully there would be time for that “Oh shoot I need to get you guys keys I only have one extra!” You grab your own keyring off the table and hand it to him. It has a cute pink rabbit on it. “Ok I’ll give this one to you and when I get the boxes. And the sheets. Crap no… too much. Ok two trips then. Walmart sells boxes right? Oh Jungkook, do you think Jimin will want a fun key or a normal key for a shoot ? Do you want a normal key?”

    “I like this one. Where are you going?”

    “To the store, I need to get boxes”

    “Do you want a ride? You don't have a car right? Or is it in the garage?” You look positively delighted. 

     “No car. There is an old piano in the garage. If you help me move it, you can take the place of your car. No change other than moving the piano. I don't like going in there. There are spiders!” Jungkook grins at you. Cute. you are really fucking cute. 

    “Let's open it and move the thing so we can park when we get back.” You look at the garage with mock horror.

    “Will you kill the spiders for me?” 

    “Sure but my skills are expensive, you know? I'm a world class assassin. Can you afford me?” 

    “Probably not. I guess I'll have to be brave” You say with a grin as you open the door and look at the ancient and rotted piano and try to give it a tug. Jungkook watches you struggle for a moment.

    “There's a spider by your hand” He says. You let out a little gasp and recoil almost tripping back. He catches you quicker than you would have thought possible. You go red the second he touches you and stay red after he rights you. He smashes the spider. 

    “Sorry I didn't know it was an actual fear. I’ll tell you what I'll give you one on the house. Next time you want someone dead tell me” You laugh. 

    “I’ll keep that in mind”

[hellraisered]

Can you write a fic of Batman and Bane playing Scrabble with deep homoerotic undertones? <3

batman / bane ( one sided ? ) || scrabble

Gotham, on rare occasions, had the capacity to be a pretty city. The richer you were, the more appealing the gem of New Jersey tended to be — it was hard to hear gunshots and see sirens all the way up in questionably pricey high-rises under the delightful haze of a champagne buzz. But here, low and ever lower, near the docks nestled where the waves sometimes lurched onto pavement, there was very little to appreciate aesthetically.

The rain wasn't relaxing here, beneath crumbling and leaking concrete, enclaves besmeared with mildew and mold; rather, it was torrential, deafening as if one was in an echo chamber. This was where the homeless of Gotham sought refuge when the shelters were full (as they always were), desperate to stay dry rather than wellfed. And it was here, surrounded by those too tired to care about anything more than their own wellbeing, where these two men were virtually invisible.

Perhaps Batman hadn't thrown a punch out of respect for the people who dwelled here, but even the Dark Knight's patience and consideration had their limits.

Quiet, nearly seething, Bane sees his jaw tighten.

"I'm not here to play games," hissed through clenched teeth.

Bane had made friends, here, in the hovels of Gotham, finding himself in their company during periods of withdrawal. He knows some of them by name, others by face. He knew better than to think that places were homes; people were, and this was one of his. Now, though, he feels the burn of Venom coursing through his veins, and the throbbing of the swell in his musculature (it was a part of him, now - better than blood and water combined, as necessary as air). He sees something in the Bat's eyes - disappointment, perhaps, for a second, and then back to the patent curtness he was known for. Bane barely fits in the chair he was situated in. The wooden bench strains and creaks underneath his weight, and in front of him is a table - small, square, the indications that suggested it was once dedicated to playing chess faded, little more than chipped paint on molded wood.

"Then perhaps you should be." One massive hand gestures to the seat at the other edge of the table. "You'll get what you've come for either way," and a fist slowly tightens to indicate what "another way" would involve, "but I imagine the easier route is a bit more appealing to us both."

The cloaked figure is frozen in place, and Bane thinks that Wayne has decided to be boring, but eventually, the Bat takes a seat. The corners of the pieces of Scrabble littered across the table are worn from use, some of the lettering beginning to distress. Bane sweeps all of the pieces into a small pouch, equally distressed, and places the scrabble board on the table.

"You first," Bane gestures — an act of goodwill.

Impatience is still visible in the way the Batman moves, in the stiffness of his posture, and in the way he quickly procures a game piece. Bane knows his adversary is only acquiescing to his request because spending a large amount of limited energy on an avoidable fight is foolish, but he is satisfied regardless, smug.

He had gotten quite good at this game, down here with the strays and pariahs during his periods of recovery. People always tended to bond better over a game. Happiness was rare in places like this, so it was necessary to find it in the littlest things.

Batman toys with a game piece between his index and middle finger, and to some extent, it's funny to imagine that those were the fingers and knuckles that have bruised and broken his ribs too many times over the past decade. It was almost an intimacy, at this point. They didn't always feel like enemies, even if he had broken the Bat's spine, though they were certainly not friends either. He didn't see them even as something in-between, though — their dynamic managed to escape any definition others tried to apply to it. Only he could understand — him and Batman — the real Batman, not the mask of Bruce Wayne he wore in the mornings, on television talk shows, on yachts with women hanging off of his shoulders.

The quiet click of wood hitting wood was pleasant, and Bruce had put down an "S".

"There was a girl here, two nights ago. Brown hair, just above her shoulders - looked like she didn't fit in here. She would have been noticed." And although the Bat phrased this as a statement, it was unquestionably asking something. He had a cupid bow-shaped mouth, and without the stubble, it was far too easy to imagine a softer version of Bruce Wayne. Bane put down a "Y".

"Yes," and he pauses thoughtfully. "I remember her. Pretty girl, earrings and a shiny coat that no one down here could afford."

Bruce places down a "Z". Bane notices that the pad of his thumb slowly rolled over the front of the piece before he put it down, probably the result of an action made while in thought. And yet, that simple action was one he found himself so easily fixated upon. There were very few words that started with "SYZ", so it was evident that the both of them were working for the same goal. Almost as soon as his fingers left the table, Bane places an "I" above the "S". Their fingers could have touched, had he been faster. Maybe he'll be faster, comes his next turn.

"Is." he says the word aloud, claiming it and its associated points for himself.

"And the girl?" Batman pressures. There's tension in his voice. In the middle of his sentence, he places an "A" above the "I". His shoulders rise and fall with every breath he takes, and sometimes Bane forgets Batman is a human, with a circulatory system, with needs.

"She's been coming here routinely, for the past few nights." He places an "N" next to the "A". "I think she may be looking for someone, but she doesn't concern me. I have more important things that require my attention." And at that, Batman shoots him a warning glare. Beneath his mask, Bane smiles. Bruce Wayne's eyes were the sort of blue that you only saw in movies and on supermodels, comparable to sapphires and the like, but Batman's eyes were darker and more human, like angry churning seas and muddy lakes, or puddles of rain. Batman places a "T" next to the "N".

"Ant." Scraping baritone declares.

Bane pulls a "W" from the pouch, and despite being so small, it feels heavy in between his fingers. It almost burns, but it doesn't.

"I know you know more than that." Batman firmly digs his fingers into the meat of the table, the tensing of his muscles visible through the fabric of his suit. There's not much time left here, between the two of them.

Bane puts the "W" in front of the "ANT", and never has he been so uncomfortable with the obvious choice.

"Want."

The word mocks him silently on the table. The letters carve their way into his mind, make him a bit sick, make him think of a man he doesn't want to associate with desire, and at this moment, he's happy the mask covers his face.

"She-", and he had stuttered. Batman surely noticed, as he always did, but he hopes that the caped crusader made little of it. "She was looking for a business card. I found it strange, why she'd be looking for anything here, but it was as if someone she was waiting for never arrived."

Batman looks to the left, away from him and the board, and "WANT" stares at him in his stead. They're both thinking. Perhaps they're thinking about different things entirely, but they're both thinking. Bruce stands abruptly, jostling the table some, and Bane recognizes that their time together is over for now.

"Behave yourself," the Bat says pointedly, apparently satisfied with the information acquired. "Or I will be coming for you next."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Bane tries to make himself sound firmer than he's feeling — he'd want it plenty of other ways. There's something caught in his throat, lodged, like the physical manifestation of a strange, unidentifiable emotion that had intruded on this private conversation. Before that emotion could make itself known, however, the Bat waves his cowl and is disappeared not a moment later.

The letters still stare up at Bane, and the fact that they don't say something else agitates him. They singe him further in the Batman's absence. "WANT". It's taunting him. He doesn't want, he has. (And although he doesn't want, maybe he needs.)

An angry grunt escapes his mouth, and with a sideswipe of his hand, "WANT" clatters quietly to the ground, overshadowed by the sound of worsening rain.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 83 Review

guess who isn't weeks late this time. my opinion of the series is going up a little bit. it's still not great, but i'm not actively put off by it anymore the way i was after 81. not going to tag as spoilers, but be warned that they are under the cut

i’m sure you all are well aware of this but now, but dear god i love bruno redondo’s art. like, an unhealthy amount. the pink and blue is getting to be a theme with either him or just this run, but i am definitely enjoying it. the movement in this cover is clearly obvious, but well done. you recoznize right off the bat that the cover was drawn to drag your eyes down the page until you get to the bottom, but you enjoy the whole ride there. 

also, redondo’s way of drawing a character in stages of action so we can see just how much they’re doing in a split second of movement is quickly becoming something i like to see drawn with dick, and any other character that has that sort of ease of movement and body sense, like cass or sin or maybe a super. 

and he’s in action the entire time! there’s shot drawn just to show off a shirtless comic book character, the way nightwing is so often subjected to. he’s shirtless because he’s changing his clothes, and that’s all we see, no more and no less. very practical, very well done. i like it.

he looks so cute right here oh my god. the little squint, the hair curls. it’s adorable.

but also like. unless melinda has specifically outfitted the door spyhole so that the person on the other side can’t see dick looking through it (and in all honesty she might have) then everyone on the other side can see dick looking through that door. 

bringing your attention back to the “i can’t see melinda’s fbi file oh no!! it’s redacted!! whatever can we do!!” stupidity. redacted files are child’s play for oracle, and definitely doable for both dick and bruce. so that’s bullshit.

now, melinda apparently grew up with the maroni family, then took down part of the family from the inside. the maroni family is a large and notable presence in gotham, one that bruce pays a respectable amount of attention to. he definitely would have grown suspicious when two members of the maroni family were taken down, and with some investigation, he would have discovered melinda’s plan. and it should go without saying that the majority of things you see batman doing? dick can do it too.

it’s not so much that i don’t like how clever the villains/antiheroes are getting. i don’t like how dc heroes are increasingly written as less intelligent. they seem to be relying on pure fighting skills or luck, which may be the case for a couple heroes, but has never been the case for most of dc’s big name heroes, the bat family included. it’s irritating to me to see this sort of stuff pop up as a major plot point when i know that, if dick or bruce had been written with the amount of skill and power that they canonically possess, this entire mess would have been sorted out years ago.

unrelated but dick and melinda have the same hair

this may just be me, but i was always under the impression that dick doesn’t really have a “double life???”

yes, he’s talented enough to create enough differences between robin/nightwing and dick grayson’s mannerisms, way of movement, voices, and speech patterns so that it’s very difficult to put the two together.

but nightwing has never been separate from dick grayson, not the way bruce and batman is. he’s always leaned more towards clark in that aspect: his hero persona is an exaggerated, stately, larger-than-life version of who he really is. there’s no second persona, no real “dick grayson identity” and “nightwing identity.” they’re the same person with the same goals, ideas, and skills. one just pretends to abide by the law, and one gives up pretense of that.

oh good thank god. if he’d trusted her right off the bat (hehe. bat.) i would have slapped him upside the head. at least he’s still got instincts.

gosh the colouring on this is cool. the red has enough purple and pink tones to it that it doesn’t abruptly ruin the tone of the artwork. but it’s definitely glaring enough to take the reader outside of this personal moment they had slipped into between dick and melinda, to put them back in the present where they’re reminded that oh yea there are people hunting dick down. 

the next panel keeps this up too, in a less severe way. melinda’s bodyguard shows up (i forgot her name sorry :[ ) and subtly places us in the middle of an action scene rather than a private, personal scene.

laughing so fucking hard have our little vigilantes grown so accustomed to breaking into places that it doesn’t even register as a crime anymore??? tim coming in through the fire escape to pick bernard up for their date and being very much confused as to why bernard is freaking out.

i really like melinda’s shirt and now despite all the work i have to do and the fucking conference i have to host on monday i want to spend hours scrolling through clothing shops online trying to find this shirt. the mock neck/neckline is so cool i want it

so roland just assumes that a very dangerous vigilante who is highly talented in combat and a very dangerous bodyguard who is also highly talented in combat had a fight that ended with this very dangerous bodyguard being tied up and she looks completely fine? roland just assumes that her having no visible wounds or bruises means that they got into a fight and she lost that easily? uh. aight then

dick what are you doing. legitimately what the fuck are you doing. why are you posing oh my god. you are injured and tired and in absolutely no position to go hand to hand with one of main enemies. jesus christ run away or head to lower ground or something. don’t just stand around letting the floodlights show exactly where you are.

i don’t understand what he’s trying to do here??? blockbuster fully bought the story that dick fought them both, won, tried to get info out of them and failed, then hightailed it out of there. he didn’t have to draw roland out for a fight.

but it does look cool. the way the light just highlights his silhouette and the blue parts of his costume does look badass. he does get style points in my book for this.

w h a t  d i d  i  f u c k i n g  t e l l  y o u ,  d i c k ?

very classic superhero line and it does sound like something dick would say in a fit of righteous rage but also it makes me laugh so hard because all vigilantes think they’re so powerful that the law doesn’t apply to them. dick vigilantism is illegal. you’re acting above the law and pretending it doesn’t apply to you. hypocritical much?

it happens so often in superhero movies, tv shows, comics, whatever and it makes me giggle every damn time.

pretty decent comeback but before i start seeing people writing blockbuster as a thug i’m going to remind you that he made a deal with a demon for genius level intellect. if this turns into another bane situation i’m going to be a little miffed. he’s a smart man, which makes him a dangerous and infinitely more interesting enemy for nightwing.

this is so horribly in character i want to scream. (or. at least. it lines up with one of the versions of nightwing i have in my head.) he’s running right towards the bullets, miraculously doesn’t get shot, while making a sort-of pun. i hate this so much. i love him.

this is cool. this art is really really cool.

he leaped from a building right towards a helicopter that’s actively shooting at him, but none of the bullets are touching him. none of the corruption of the city can touch him no matter how hard it tries, because he’s too good to be corrupted. Comic Book Logic Can Be Good Sometimes Actually.

batman’s belt what??? swiss army knife who?? sorry, i only know nightwing’s bright blue escrima.

this is one of my favourite things about heroes with exceptional abilities, even more so if the hero is human. the things they can do are so far beyond the realm of normal human abilities that it’s equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring every time they act.

he just used modified grappling wires to hook to the door of a moving helicopter, swung around the helicopter safely without hitting the blades, gained exactly the right momentum to swing upward again right through the opening of helicopter, then fought and tied up the men before they had any idea what was happening. that’s near impossible to do.

it’s stuff like this where i just sort of sigh in contentment. no matter how many times they leave out dick’s detective skills or conveniently forget that he’s actually a master planner and team leader and make him out to be this forgetful dude who makes everything up on the fly because of his “circus roots,” at least they won’t ever take away dick’s sheer physical ability honed to perfection. 

the art, too! in a few panels, dick’s drawn a little lightened or blurred. he’s moving so quickly and fighting so efficiently that he can barely be seen by the enemy. he’s got perfect form all the way through.

and THIS!

there was a helicopter that had five men shooting at him with what looks like machine guns. most people would be dead. some would run away, and be nimble enough to survive without fatal hits. there are very few people, even in fucking comic books, who can look at that hopeless situation and turn it around so quickly and thoroughly that he benefits from it instead.

i just. love nightwing.

it was funny the first time as a comic reader aware of the meme. it’s really not anymore. why the hell would you, in universe, be wearing a shirt that has a picture of your boyfriend being hit in the face by his father. 

okay that was funny. 

look at lil bitewing, so concerned for her human!!! love her sm. 

also a question as to the timeline of things. is nightwing happening before or after urban legends? 

i was so distracted by dick wearing a robe and briefs and nothing else that i didn’t register the second part until later. he slept for two days?? babs, baby, he recently had a very traumatic brain injury. why do you sound so nonchalant?

@TIM X COFFEE SHIPPERS GET FUCCCCKKKKEEDDDDD

ngl i totally forgot about that dude oops

this comic is giving so many reaction pictures. you know how you always use the worst possible picture of your friend for your friend’s contact picture? i’m just getting so many of these.

leslie!!! the titans!!! lucius!!! dick going to go see old friends!!!! the titans!!! this part made me so irrationally happy it really did. gar being the one to just. offer dick solutions with open arms. this was the best

i wish i could just copy and paste this entire scene, but that would take up way too much space, so i’m just going to talk about it instead. 

you gave me my name, nightwing, and you gave me some of the best advice i’ve received in my life: beautiful little throwback to nightwing’s origin. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who don’t know where the name came from, or who don’t know how much clark means to dick. and the fact that dick still looks up to clark as a hero, recognizes that clark isn’t always perfect and yet continues to hold him in such high esteem, and still looks back on advice that clark gave him fondly just warmed my heart so much.

for a man who has fearlessly stood up to darkseid, bruce will do a lot to avoid a conversation: “grrr. i’m the BATMAN. i’m so DARK and MYSTERIOUS. nobody knows the true me. no one ever will. i will be LONELY for the rest of my CURSED LIFE. such is the price of a hero. ignore my farmer himbo husband in the background”

but i don’t think there’s anything heroic about being a billionaire: another nod to how much dick follows clark’s example rather than bruce. yes, this was a very poignant and important criticism, and i think it’s wonderful that this was published in a pretty popular comic book. but the thing is, there is a way to be a heroic billionaire, but only in fictional universes. the way bruce, ollie, t’challa only ever use their wealth to help people. they donate massive amounts of money to charities that they themselves create so they know exactly how the money is being used. they hire people who aren’t likely to get jobs anywhere else and pay them much more than what a base living wage is. they use their power to help push progressive laws and social change. they are helping. 

dick doesn’t fully see it that way. he spent more than half his childhood the son of a billionaire, but still believes that one could be more heroic when one doesn’t have obscene amounts of wealth. whose example do you think he followed to come to that conclusion?

superman looked up to alfred pennyworth?: i mean yea alfred may have been a wildly irresponsible guardian and one hell of an enabler but goddamn if he didn’t love his kid.

you don’t need my input. you’ve thought it all through: ooooooh this line made me grin. for so long, dick’s treated clark as a mentor and a guiding figure. he’s still seen as a kid, an up and coming, snot-nosed titan with dreams of a better world. clark still thinks of him as a kid, despite watching him grow up. but this little line was something i think dick needed sorely to hear. he doesn’t need anyone’s guiding hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to ask for permission. he doesn’t need clark to support him the way he did when he was a teenager. he’s all grown up now, and he doesn’t need clark’s help. i imagine it was a bit of a surprise for dick to hear that. 

honestly, i couldn’t think of a better role model: ohhh but it doesn’t stop there. clark just straight up turns the tables on dick. imagine you’re dick, and you’ve looked up to this one hero your entire life, and then one day he turns to you and says that he thinks you’re so kind and smart and worthy of a person that he wants you to mentor his son!? goes to show just how much clark trusts dick.

i swear to god dick probably cries every time he hears clark compliment him because bruce is so rare and sparing with his praise that clark giving him the slightest hint of approval is just a dopamine rush.

also, now deathstroke and superman have both asked nightwing to mentor their kids. the juxtaposition is fuckin hysterical. imagine either of their reactions when they realize what kind of company they’re with

lets talk colours for a second, because i absolutely adore how classic colour tropes have been subverted in this comic, and in this general run really.

warm tones have usually (usually, not always) been associated with light and comfort and friendship and,,,,,well,,,warmth. whereas cool tones are usually used to unsettle, or make a scene seem colder and put the reader on edge. this varies if a comic only uses cool tones, or only uses warm tones, but if a comic uses both, this is generally well-used.

that isn’t the case in this run.

dark red, orange, and other warm tones have been used to symbolize danger, action, attacks. hot pink isn’t usually included in this colour group, but it’s definitely part of it in this case. in contrast, scenes that have cool colours give us the impression of slipping into a comfortable, calm scene with babs, tim, the titans, and other allies. even the beginning scene with superman has this blue, but then it transitions into something more golden coloured. dawn broke over dick, as his new idea came to light, and that was reflected in the art (and the sunrise setting.)

have there ever been times when dick’s longed for the comfort of his mask because he didn’t feel confident as dick grayson? i can’t think of any. i may be wrong, but this struck me as pretty ooc.

am i just??? gay and reading this all wrong??

cause i was under the impression that when someone says they are grateful for your friendship you don’t immediately kiss them. 

or is this like. normal straight mating rituals.

i mean he’s smiling afterward but still babs aren’t you supposed to at least make sure it’s okay first? you guys broke up a while back after you said something along the lines of “i want to be coworkers with you and nothing more because i don’t trust you or feel comfortable around you as a civilian anymore.” like lmao after you say something like that to someone i would assume that you don’t have the permission to just kiss them whenever you want.

show of hands who else got real sad when they realized dick was talking about himself in this.

sure, he could be referencing the things he’s seen blockbuster pull, and the children on the streets. but “i’ve seen money used for enforcement,” sounds a little too close to dick’s entire life being destroyed by one man threatening the circus to pay protection money for me to completely ignore. and “i’ve seen the poorest and most vulnerable blamed and punished rather than assisted” becomes a lot worse when you remember dick was thrown in juvie for a couple months until bruce was able to obtain legal guardianship, and in there, not a authority figure believed him when he told them his parents were murdered.

he’s lived this before.

a. mother. fucking. typo.

fucking why

i mean i’ve stated my distaste for the batfamily groupchat before but like. this is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. jason sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. tim sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. steph sounds like she was written by someone who doesn’t know the first thing about steph and wanted to include her for “family points!!!!!” damian’s supposed to be completely off the grid, and everyone’s searching for him. i do love the way cass texts tho.

well god fuck now i’m crying

dick got a phone call, a sorry, and a thank you out of bruce. i feel so much secondhand happiness for him, if that’s a thing. we’ll just ignore the way bruce looks ugly af and focus on the good parts okay?

and again with the colour symbolism here!

i’m either going to love this or hate this. who knows, we’ll see.

something something hearts something something pink is an evil colour something something. i need to know more about this guy but there’s definitely symbolism there. 

is it just me or does this dude look like the backstabbing traitorous absolutely motherfucking piece of shit villain that killed tadashi hamada in big hero 6?

~~

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[scaryscarecrows]

I'd Crawl on Broken Glass to be the One That Laughs Last

Gotham’s gone straight to Hell in a handbasket. Scarecrow’s dead, which is no loss, but Bruce is missing, Arkham blew up for reasons unknown, and the Arkham Knight’s Militia is still in control. Oh, sure, there’s a fair chunk of them in lockup, but they’ve been getting steadily more riled as the days wear on (three days since the Asylum, their boss has to be dead, who’s in charge now?), and the tanks are still running patrols, the bombs are still in the road, and there are checkpoints and watchtowers everywhere.

Jim thinks they’re waiting for something. There’s been no assault, not like he thought there might be. The street thugs and any uncaptured Rogues are still allowed to run wild, though the watchtowers have been spotted taking shots at something big flying around out there. Honestly, they’re even leaving the police alone, for the most part...but they will still shoot at the cars if they get too close. It’s like they’re on babysitting duty or something until the Knight gets back. It’s unsettling.

He’s out doing a little exploration-he doubts they’ve killed Batman, or they’d be gone, but Bruce still isn’t around-when something drops onto the roof of his car. He hits the brakes, tires screeching, and narrowly avoids sliding into a tank crossing the road.

Breathe.

Jim has no time to go for his gun before the driver’s side door gets ripped open by what Jim can only describe as the Hulk. The man outside is only a little smaller than Bane*. There’s a rocket launcher on his back and Jim’s sure he’s not the one that landed on the car, because the car would be a pancake.

He’s proven right a second later when the polar opposite of the giant jumps down. That said, this guy might be tiny, but he moves like he knows half a dozen ways to kill you. The cherry on the disaster sundae? Both of them are wearing army fatigues.

Militia. Shit.

“Boys,” he says, already planning on how to get that rocket launcher from the big one, “don’t be stupid.”

The little one doesn’t say anything. The big one laughs and before Jim can move, he’s been pulled out of the car.

“Boss wants to see ya.”

So they have a boss. Who. Who is it? One of their own? Riddler? Penguin? Goddamn Deathstroke? Who is his new problem?

“No.”

“Sorry.” The man does sound mostly sorry. “Not really askin’. C’mon.”

Jim tries to slam his elbow into the man’s collarbone. He doesn’t even really get to move before the little guy grabs his arm and wrenches it behind his back. Not hard enough to dislocate it, but hard enough to be a warning.

“We don’t want to have to hurt you, Commissioner,” the big man says. “We’re just picking you up.”

“Go to Hell.”

A gun presses against his back. Fine. He’ll go. But he won’t like it.

* * *

He’s disarmed, bundled into an APC, and blindfolded. After way too many sharp turns and double-backs, he’s...somewhere in the underside of the city. He’s thinking over near Drescher.

Wherever it is, he’s pulled out of the APC, taken inside somewhere, and handed off to new hands. When the blindfold comes off, his kidnappers are nowhere to be seen.

The men in charge of him now (and only for now, give him time…) are less...unnerving...than the other two. One is wearing the white uniform of a medic, and the other is having a snack. Cashews? Cashews.

The medic is a man on a mission. Jim doesn’t even manage to get out a, ‘you’ll be sorry’ before the man’s turning on his heel, jaw working furiously, and snapping, “Come on.”

“Where are we going.”

“Boss wants to see you, won’t listen to reason. This way.”

He stalks off and the snacker chuckles.

“Cashew?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” They follow the medic down a crumbling hallway. “They didn’t scare you too much, did they?”

“What’s with the good-cop-bad-cop routine?” he demands. “Is your friend up there gonna come back and threaten to carve my face off?”

The man just laughs.

“Probably, but he does that to everyone.”

“Sometime today!”

Huh.

Jim thinks they might be in the old mall. Scarecrow had been driving that way when something had happened, and, well, if Jim were going to have an evil base of operations, this would be a good one. Lot of ways in and out, nobody ever comes down here anymore-too dangerous-and it’s big, big enough to hold tanks and soldiers and whatever else these boys have. When they round a corner, he sees a familiar logo and decides that yes, that’s where they are. Hm.

They round another corner and end up in the back of the building. Jim’s not sure what this was, but there’s a corridor lined with doors. The medic stops in front of one and turns, hands clasped behind his back.

“Twenty minutes and no more,” he snarls at Jim. “You’re lucky you get that many minutes. You try anything, you might live to regret it. Might. You tire him out, out you go, I don’t care if it’s been two minutes. Don’t touch shit, don’t knock shit down, don’t--”

“I think he’s got the picture,” his other escort soothes. “Don’t terrorize him.”

“Humph. With the amount of work I had to put in to keep his dumb ass alive, I’m entitled to terrorize people.”

“Still.”

“And I’ll tell you something else. You lay a finger, one solitary finger on him, you so much as breathe too hard--”

“There won’t be anything left to bury,” the other man says, smiles with all his teeth. “Here you go, Commissioner.”

“Twenty. Minutes.”

And then he’s shoved into a room with--and good God, how--the Arkham Knight.

The Knight is lying in bed. He looks the worse for wear, but Jim can’t quite muster up pity for him. This...this is his fault. Gotham, Bruce, Barbara…

He swallows down the rage. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because the Knight’s not alone. Jim supposes they wouldn’t just leave him unattended, not with those injuries, but still.

The Knight doesn’t seem to notice Jim. He’s certainly not looking at him. He’s looking at the laptop the other man has. Right now, at this exact second, he looks like a sick kid, wan and tired, eyes fluttering like he’s fighting to stay awake. But he’s not. Robin or not, he’s...the Knight’s not that boy anymore. Robin wouldn’t have done this, any of this. Robin’s dead.

“Sir.” The other man here isn’t wearing a uniform, he’s wearing jeans and a raggedy flannel that hangs open over some sort of band shirt. But his bearing is still that of a soldier’s, and the rifle leaning against the wall by his chair is top-of-the-line. “Gordon’s here.”

“Hrm?”

“Remember? You wanted to see him.” The Knight blinks a few times, heavy and confused, and tries to lever himself up before his companion reaches over to pin his shoulder. “Don’t do that.”

More confused silence. Now that he’s moved his head, Jim can see his pupils are blown wide. That’s not a surprise. He’s pretty sure he was in Arkham when it came down, and he hadn’t looked well before that.

Serves him right, he thinks, remembering the cuts on Barbara’s cheeks and chin. Serves the bastard right.

He keeps his mouth shut. The laptop has been closed and set aside, and the rifle is now in its owner’s lap. It’s casual enough, but the threat’s there all the same: you’ll go through me to get to him.

He wonders, a bit, what drives these men. He doesn’t really care, but he wonders a little all the same. Even the ones in the cells have been resolute that ‘the boss’ will get them out, that he’s got everything in hand, just you wait and see.

...in their defense, Jim had thought he had to be dead, and yet here he is. So.

“S’right,” the Knight finally breathes. He sounds terrible, and Jim suddenly matches the purple swelling on his throat to handprints. That scares him. Not out of pity or sympathy, but because what little he’s seen of the man says he can handle himself. Whoever did that… “S’right.”

“You up for it?”

He’d better be. Jim was kidnapped off the street for this.

“Yes.” Good. “Glad to see you’re unharmed.”

No thanks to you, Jim doesn’t snap, resolutely ignores the memory of the Knight holding up his hands and telling Scarecrow, voice painfully earnest, to take him and let Jim and his men and Robin leave in one piece. He settles for a curt nod, can’t quite muster up a, wish I could say the same.

The Knight pulls in a painful-sounding breath and drops his head to the side.

“Bring up the footage for Commissioner Gordon, would you?”

“Yessir.” The laptop returns, balanced delicately over the rifle. Jim doesn’t know if he wants to know what’s going on. “Hang on...give it a sec to load…”

The Knight moves and visibly bites back a wince, but the new angle means that Jim can see the full extent of the bruising on his neck.

“There we go--you okay, boss?”

“Ribs,” he breathes. “They don’t like it when people zipline into them.”

What.

“Need me to call--”

“No.” He swallows hard and beckons Jim closer. “M’fine. Just sore. And stiff.” He clears his throat, grimacing. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount.”

“M’just not used to being still this long--”

“Deal,” his friend says sharply. The Knight just grins, but that annoys the other guy. “Did you miss the flatline bit?”

“Technically?”

“I--never mind.” He makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Never mind...okay, all set.”

He turns the laptop around and Jim hesitates before perching on the very edge of the bed. Nothing terrible happens to him.

“This is footage from my helmet. How it kept going after that level of trauma, I’ll never know, but my IT department managed to recover it remotely.”

The footage picks up in a dark area, abandoned sewer network or something, probably, and it’s glitchy and stuttery.

Bruce has been caught on camera before, but not like this. This is...savage, animalistic. He comes out of nowhere, dodging gunfire and seemingly oblivious to the shouts of surprise, and moves in via a flying kick to the camera itself, which goes white and static-y for a second. A few of them come up behind him and suffer backhands and powerful kicks for their troubles, and then Bruce fills up the frame, shoulders positioned like he’s got his arms out and...and...

He looks at the Knight, looks at the bruises around his neck, and looks back at the screen in time to see Bruce going down and being dragged backwards.

“He do this to you?”

The look the man gives him is so reminiscent of the little boy Jim remembers that it makes his head spin. It screams, I know you’re not really that stupid...right?

“Well, I didn’t do it to myself.”

“--okay, sir, I’m just gonna…”

The helmet moves and Jim spots the medic from earlier before it gets set on the ground, facing Bruce. Bruce is chained to a pipe, seemingly unconscious.

“Don’t talk, just nod. Can you breathe okay?”

There’s an obvious cut--they don’t want to share it all, apparently--and then Bruce stirs and starts...giggling. Jim knows that giggle.

“What the hell.”

The Knight shudders and burrows under his blankets.

“It’s complicated. We’re reasonably sure he’s been eliminated, or at the very least contained, but--” A hand moves, presumably indicating himself. “I made it out. He might have, too.”

His friend closes his laptop and sets it aside.

“We’ve got teams sweeping Arkham’s grounds to the best of our ability,” he says. “Unfortunately, we are not a rescue team and as such are not fully equipped to handle the more unstable areas. That said, given the police department’s...track record...we would very much prefer that your men stay out of our way until we either find the individual formerly known as the Batman, or definitively confirm his demise. We’re hoping that at the very least, any injuries he may have sustained slowed him down, but we can’t prove that, given the lack of video footage for the incident.”

“It’s our understanding that Batman has, at least for the time being, lost his fight against the effects of J.” The Knight swallows. “Of Joker’s blood. I attempted to contain him--”

“Contain, my ass,” his friend grumbles. The Knight ignores him.

“I attempted to contain him,” he says again, “via...ah…”

“He blew up the goddamn asylum with himself and Batman inside,” comes the sharp interjection. “In case you managed to miss that.”

Jim had not managed to miss that, thank you very much.

“I noticed,” he says dryly. The Knight huffs a painful-sounding laugh and falls silent.

There’s. There’s a lot Jim wants to say. The Knight was Robin, and Joker killed him (and made sure they all knew it, that tape, good God, he’d sent it to everyone and Jim remembers Dove bursting into tears when she tried to tell him), but he’s not dead now, and look at what he’s done.

Much as he’d like to demand answers--or at least bring half of that up--he won’t. He doubts the man with the laptop will react well; now that he really looks, the man’s tense, clearly poised to move if he has to.

Jim can probably take him. He absolutely can’t take the others that will come at the commotion.

There’s a small dinging sound, and silence, and then an urgent, “Sir. Sir.”

“Hrm?”

“We got something.”

The Knight blinks a few times before half-surging up and demanding, “Let’s go, let’s go, then, help me up--”

“Chair or Trent?”

“Neither--”

“Chair or Trent.”

“Chair,” he grumbles after a second. “But I can walk on my own--”

“Yeah, but if the doc sees you, he’ll be mad. Here it is.”

Jim moves, semi-prepared to offer to help but not really wanting to, but they must have a system, because the Knight’s in the chair with a blanket in short order.

“I feel like a cheap Bond villain,” he’s complaining now. “One that rolls down a ramp into an electrified pool or something.”

“Maybe next time, you’ll consider your life choices, sir.”

“They weren’t supposed to come back to haunt me!”

“I know, sir.”

“Christ...what do we have.”

Should he…? Sure, apparently.

What a day. He needs a drink. A good strong one.

“My understanding is it’s better seen than explained, sir. No body, I don’t think.”

“Fantastic...the bastard’ll survive anything.”

Jim privately thinks the same applies to him, but he doesn’t share that thought. He doubts it will go over well.

The computer room isn’t crammed full of people. There’s one guy on the monitors and another one-one of the ones from before, actually, the one with the cashews-lounging in a chair next to him, drinking a Coke.

“What’s going on, you said something turned up--” He doesn’t quite hide a shiver, but when the other people in the room zero in on him, he shakes his head and insists, “M’fine.”

“Boss, I can link this to a laptop if you’re s’posed to be in bed--”

“M’fine. Pull up the footage.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” monitor-guy says, spinning around and wheeling over to make room. “Looks like he got out, same as you.”

“Seriously?”

“Would I joke when it mattered, sir? Here, look. See this?” He makes the screen bigger. “That look familiar to you?”

It certainly looks familiar to Jim. Bruce’s cowl is difficult to mistake, and there it is, crumpled in the rubble. It’s singed, and one of the ears is broken, but it is Bruce’s cowl.

“Damn,” the Knight breathes, and...Jim doesn’t like admitting it, not after tonight, but...he looks so young. A scared little boy, that’s all. “That’s not good.”

“What do we do, sir?”

“We don’t even know for sure if he’s out.” The Knight’s friend leans over the chair to get a better look at the monitor. “Maybe he tried getting out and died, we don’t--”

“I made it out,” the Knight says quietly.

There’s a wave of annoyed grumbling that includes at least one, ‘self-sacrificing dumbass’ and a, ‘in spite of your best efforts’. Jim has to wonder about that one. He can’t muster up that much sympathy, but he does wonder.

The Knight just sighs and adjusts his blanket around his shoulders.

“Fair. Anyways, seeing as I found a way out, it’s not unlikely that he’s done the same, barring the. The possibility of an instant death. I suspect we wound up in a pocket, though, so.”

“You didn’t notice anything on your way out?” Jim demands. “Was he right with you?”

“I was--”

“Concussed and bleeding to death,” a new voice snaps. “And in no shape to be walking, let alone note-taking. What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“Briefing the--”

“Literally anybody else can do that.” The angry voice belongs to the medic from before. “You don’t seem to understand what ‘flatline’ means, sir, or maybe you’ve just got a death wish, but tough fucking titty, said the kitty, you’re not dying on my watch. Say bye-bye to the commissioner, you’re going back to bed and staying there or on God, I’ll put you in a coma and keep you there until you don’t have so much as a bruise. Do I make myself clear?”

Jim expects argument. None of the Robins ever let Batman boss them around to that extent, and he knows damn well that if he’d backtalked his superiors like that, he’d be in, frankly, deep shit. But the Knight just sighs.

“He’s been here long enough, anyway.” Long enough for what? “Keep your men out of our way, Commissioner. No offense, but Batman existed for a reason. You can’t handle him.”

Jim bristles.

“Can’t handle--”

“You know it’s true,” he snaps, and straightens up, turns to the man with the cashews. “Call everyone back.” All of a sudden that’s no longer a little boy playing Soldiers. That’s the man that crippled Gotham within hours. “I want everyone off the streets and back at base, now. Do not engage under any circumstances.”

“Yessir.”

“Get into the street cameras,” he continues. “If a rat comes out of a sewer, I want to see it. I want whatever drones we have left out and searching, but leave the car alone. That hasn’t worked so far and I’m not losing more--”

He must breathe wrong, because he suddenly starts coughing, harsh, violent whoops from down in his chest.

“Get him back to bed,” the medic orders once the coughs cease. “Or he’ll be Snow White and believe you me, nobody is getting in here to kiss him awake.”

“Jones--”

“We can handle this, sir. We’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“But--”

“You trained us for this, remember? We’re professionals.”

The Knight falls silent, one hand still pressed against his ribs, and finally melts back into his chair.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Bye, commish.”

He doesn’t recognize the men that take him back. The streets are empty, though, barring the patrolling drones, and they make it back to the GCPD unscathed.

Unfortunately, Jim returns to, quite frankly, a disaster. The officers on duty are tied up, and the militia cells are empty. Not a man left. He’s just freeing Cash when the broadcast screen crackles and the Knight appears on it, face serious.

“I mean it, Commissioner,” he says. “Keep out of the way, or I’ll put you in a cell instead.”

“You--”

“Tell Bullock hey for me, would ya?” He leans forward. “Stay safe.”

Click.

THE END

*I’m figuring Bane is bigger than the Giant Mooks because his boss fight consists of you jumping on him to slash his Venom tubes AND because he can and will run you over, while Giant Mooks of any affiliation are not rideable and don’t run.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3 - Too Close for Comfort

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: Your training at Tenet is going perfectly well until it’s thrown off balance with the arrival of Neil, who brings chaos and surprising news...

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: So once again this very long, for which I’m sorry. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for the inspiration to my friends, as always! Enjoy!

The first few weeks of your training went by in a mad blur. After day two you realised that to avoid spending ages in the car you had to move into the Tenet building. There you had a cosy room with a bed, desk, a bathroom and relative peace. That is if the more extraverted agents were not partying in the mess hall or the common room. You usually spent the evenings alone, not having the energy or motivation to socialise. Sometimes you also felt as though others perceived you differently for reasons unknown.

Maybe because you have been recruited by one of Tenet’s top agents personally?

Your days have been spent either learning about physics and the theoretical side of the inversion or in the sparring hall, trying to dodge inverted punches and kicks. While all the talk of entropy and nuclear fission usually made your head hurt, it was the hand in hand combat that was the bane of your training. Having absolutely no prior experience in various fighting styles, you often got beat up by the fellow recruits. You certainly preferred guns to fists.

Neil has been gone for weeks as well. You knew that most likely the details of the mission were entirely classified so you never asked. But you sometimes did wonder if he would ever show up again. You had to admit that you did hope so. It would be a shame to never see Anna beam like that again.

This day started like any other in that regard. You woke up and got ready for the first class – geography of Tenet, so lessons covered all the different branches with the turnstiles and how to get from one to another when inverted. After that it was the classic combat. You took your position and acknowledged the partner for the hour – a boring guy named Jack who would sometimes hit on you. And today was not going to be different…

“Hello love” he grinned way too widely

“Hi” you answered back dispassionately, praying for the class to start

“You’re looking good today” Jack smirked, trying to look flirtatious and you rolled your eyes.

Pairs all around you were beginning their training and you wanted to cut the small talk short as soon as possible.

“Please, can we get on with this? I really don’t have time” Jack pouted but complied.

Soon you have begun the session. At first, you managed to block his punches and kicks really well, even hit him a few times when he seemed too busy staring at you to react. But then as the pace picked up, you lost the rhythm. Soon you were breathing hard and your body was aching. While Jack wasn’t pulling any punches, he quickly got worried, seeing you pant and wince. He took a step back and asked:

“Everything alright with you?”

“Yeah, just need a breather” you smiled apologetically.

Suddenly, just as you looked up at the front of the hall where the teachers were stood, a dirty blonde head caught your eye.

It can’t be… you scrunched your neck to see better above the students and your eyes met the unmistakable blue gaze. Neil was staring right at you through the crowd.

Shit. Before you could let your thoughts run away too far, Jack began the training again. Without a warning, he aimed a punch towards your shoulder and you barely blocked it. You were desperately trying to focus on the sparring, but the curious mind kept returning to Neil. You ignored it for a while, but then you looked up again. The blue eyes were on you for all that time. That was also the moment when Jack aimed a punch at your jaw, certain you will be there to block it. You were not.

Next thing you knew you were lying on the floorboards, with a throbbing pain in your jaw and Jack staring at you in shock.

“I…I’m sorry! I thought you’d be ready…” he stuttered and held out a hand to help you get up.

Fuck!, you swore and grudgingly accepted the help. But as soon as you were back standing, you had to run. You couldn’t risk meeting Neil right now. And you were pretty damn sure he saw the whole thing happen. Looking at Jack, you breathed out:

“Sorry, I’ve got to go” and quickly pushed through the crowd to the side exit, praying that you will not be followed.

You got lucky and made a hasty escape to your room where you could finally let your emotions loose. Which in this case meant punching the desk and letting out a stream of favourite swear words. Once that was done you sat down on the bed and covered your face with your hands. You hated embarrassing yourself like that in front of people. Let alone people like Neil.

Finally, after wallowing in self-pity for ten minutes, you got up to shower and change. But you only made it as far as touching the bathroom door handle when you heard a knock.  Somehow you knew who it was and hastily smoothed down your hair before opening the door. Neil stood there, with that sickening grin and tousled hair.

“How did you know which room is mine?” you asked while eyeing him up through the crack in the door.

“Hello to you too” he smirked “Anna told me where to find you”

“Of course” you muttered and opened the door wider to let him in.

“What was that?” he watched you with that sly smile, as though excited about the prospect of annoying you.

“Nothing” you sat on the bed and watched as he took the time to look around your small room.

You noticed that he had ditched the suit jacket and had his sleeves rolled up. The exposed forearms were covered in a few fading bruises and cuts. You stared at them a bit too long and quickly looked down at your lap, desperately trying to find something to say. Normally you liked silence, but in this case it made your thoughts wonder way too much.

“So you’re back then?” you asked, cringing at how stupid that sounded.

Neil sat down on the desk chair opposite you and nodded.

“Yeah, for now the world ending has been averted” he joked lightly, and you smiled, suddenly aware that you have missed him.

He searched your face for a short while before asking:

“I take it you don’t like combat sessions?”

“What gave you such an impression?”

“Well that was an impressive knock-out” he winked, and you groaned, causing him to laugh.

“Was hoping you’ve somehow missed it” you admitted while looking away at the wall.

His intense stare was starting to make you feel self-conscious. After all those weeks of not seeing him you have forgotten what it was like. Sometimes you even thought that maybe Neil was just a figment of your imagination. But he was most certainly real. And right now was still looking at you, searching for something. He found it when he suddenly got up and kneeled right in front of you. You stared wide-eyed as he reached out and touched a sore spot on your jaw, making you flinch.

“Sorry” he apologised “Is this where you got hit today?” gently he traced the bruise that was beginning to form.

“Think so” your voice came out huskier than you expected.

“There’s a small cut” only now you felt the sting “You should get that cleaned up” he noticed and met your gaze steadily.

You realised with a surprise that he was looking at you with worry. He was close. Way too close. You felt the rush of adrenaline and jumped up, nearly knocking him on the head in the process.

“I’m fine” you mumbled “I’ll check it now” you moved towards the bathroom.

But once again it was not meant to be. Neil placed his hands on your arms and pulled you down to sit on the bed.

“We’ve done this before” he glared at you “And I’m not taking ‘fine’ for an answer this time” you could just stare “Now, where do you have the first aid kit?”

“Shelf behind the mirror” you watched as he went to the bathroom and covered your face with your hands.

You always hated being the centre of attention. Being cared after like this. Because it meant that you were not strong enough in the first place. It was easier to just be entirely self-dependent, to never ask for help. And now Neil has seen your weakness twice. It was too much. Just as you have begun to consider bolting away, he emerged, armed with gauze and glass filled with water. He set them down on the bedside table and turned towards you. He must have noticed your struggle because he frowned and took a long look at you before asking:

“Is everything alright?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze and nodded.

“Because you don’t look alright right now”

“Thanks, you know how to compliment a girl” you joked dryly, trying to stop the line of uncomfortable questioning.

It worked as Neil burst out laughing and looked at you incredulously. The downside was that you could no longer run away. So you accepted his beckoning to come closer and lifted your head to give him better access to the cut. He soaked the gauze in water and carefully cleaned the wound, all the while perfectly focused on the task. Although you could not see him you imagined the look of concentration on his face. Once the cut has been disinfected, he covered it with a small band-aid and gave you a quick once-over. You lowered your head and watched him out of the corner of your eye. After he was done with the inspection, his hand was still gently touching your jaw, with thumb caressing your neck just below the ear. You stared at him with lips parted in shock, wondering if he was aware of the movement. You shifted slightly and that broke him out of the reverie. His eyes met yours, and he smiled softly, not stopping the delicate caress. Now that you knew he was aware of his actions you felt your face heat up. To try and break the tense silence, you decided to speak up:

“Thank you for this…” your voice was incredibly hoarse.

“Of course” he smiled wider “Couldn’t have you walking around bleeding”

His hand had stopped the movement but was still placed on your neck. You could not process how close he was. Your brain kept reminding you how you did not really know him. How it can go wrong. The urge to run away was back, possibly at the worst moment. You quickly turned your head away. Neil looked at you with surprise but before either of you could say anything, a knock echoed in the room. You turned to Neil:

“You expecting anyone?” he asked.

“Certainly not” you frowned and went to open the door cautiously.

On the other side there was a tall man of a soldierly posture with a buzz cut and a pleasant looking face. You looked at him quizzically, but he was staring right past you:

“Anna told me I’d find you here” he addressed Neil, who came up to stand next to you.

The two men then had a rather peculiar silent exchange which started with the soldier smirking while looking at you, and Neil responding with a small shake of the head and a grin. You had enough of that.

“Sorry, but who are you?” you asked, while staring at them both.

“Apologies, ma’am” the newcomer grinned at you “I’m Ives” he extended a hand and you shook it.

“Ives is leader of our squad unit” Neil explained, and you nodded.

“I’m…” you opened your mouth to introduce yourself but got cut off by Ives.

“Oh I know who you are” you stared at him confusedly “Neil told me about you” that knowing grin again.

You noticed with a surprise that Neil looked somewhat flustered. But he composed himself quick enough for you to dismiss that idea. He cleared his throat and asked:

“Anyways, what brings you here Ives?”

“TP wanted me to discuss something with you” your ears perked up at the mention of the Protagonist, the mysterious founder of Tenet “And there will be a small gathering later in the common room with all the squad so thought you might want to join” Ives smiled at you “Both of you”.

Neil looked at you expectantly and you nodded:

“Sure, I’ve got nothing better to do”

“You won’t regret it” Ives grinned “Mate can we talk in private?” he turned to Neil.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you in the briefing room in ten” they shared one last cryptic look and Neil closed the door.

You stared at him, still unable to forget the way he looked at you mere minutes ago. And the moment you have shared. But now the spell has been broken, and you did not know what to say. Luckily Neil seemed to be doing fine as he threw you the signature soft smile:

“Sorry about that. Ives is a pretty straightforward guy” he explained, and you laughed, feeling the tension dissolve.

“I can see that” you held his gaze a little longer before adding “You should go discuss the classified stuff with him. Might be something important”

Neil looked hesitant. Finally, he must have made up his mind because he reached out to squeeze your hand. A familiar gesture by now.

“Shall I pick you up later for the party?” he asked.

“Sure” you smiled “Though calling it a party makes me regret the decision to participate” you admired the grin he sent you.

“No need for that, you’ll do great” he winked and without further word left your room.

Now finally you could panic in peace.

***

After stressing for a solid hour about what to wear, you decided to just put on the comfiest t-shirt and jeans. Most agents and recruits rarely dressed up anyway. Apart from Neil, naturally, but you had a feeling he was an exception in most things. Once you got ready, you sat at the desk, trying to finish the assignments for the classes. That was a very bad idea since your brain was mostly busy panicking about the party and analysing what happened before Ives came. When that desired (and feared) knock sounded in the room, you rushed to open it. You were almost happy Neil has not changed into an expensive suit.

“Ready?” he smiled, and you automatically beamed back.

Have I become like Anna already?, you cringed at your reaction. But there was no time to marinate in shame as Neil practically pulled you out of the room without waiting for confirmation. You stared at him, surprised as the door to your room slammed shut.

“Are we that late?”

He just grinned and started walking down the corridor. You shook your head amused before jogging to catch up. When you both entered the common room you first noticed that they have reorganised the space by moving the couches around. Now they formed a large circle in the middle of which there was a table set with beer and wine bottles. There was also music playing from the speakers. And there were at least ten people in the room. At that observation you swallowed hard. You were never good with meeting new people and the idea itself made you anxious. But looking at Neil marching in confidently and shaking hands with everyone you realised that you might have to overcome the fear. The moment you stepped through the threshold all eyes were on you.

Bloody hell, you pasted a small smile on your lips and looked at all the faces. But before you were forced to introduce yourself, Ives did it for you:

“This is our new recruit, Y/N” everyone smiled at you “She’s friends with Neil, so we’ll probably see more of her” he added, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

You looked at Neil and once again would swear he looked slightly uncomfortable. But before you could think about it more you got swept into the circle by Ives and tried to remember names of everyone introduced to you. After the initial small talk, you sat down with a glass of wine, hoping to be able to just listen to others talk and fade into the background. But it wasn’t meant to be…

“So how do you like the training?” a woman asked, that you believed was called Wheeler.

She was looking at you with a pleasant smile which gave you the needed courage.

“It’s not too bad. The whole physics side of it makes my head hurt sometimes but then it’s all so fascinating” you saw a few understanding smiles and nods.

“Well I can help you with the physics if you ever need it” Neil spoke up suddenly and you looked at him across the table.

He has been weirdly quiet since you came in but was evidently listening to the conversation. He was looking at you with a small smile which you mirrored as a way of thanks. You were very aware of the company.

“But yeah I don’t mind the training” you tried to finish the thought “It’s very different from the stuff I did at university and that’s refreshing” you grinned.

“Heard you don’t like the combat training” Ives smirked, and you glared at him.

So everyone knows now…, you groaned mentally.

“What’s the basis for this assumption?” you didn’t want to give up your dignity without a fight.

With satisfaction, you noted the surprised grin he responded with.

“Got my sources” he shrugged “And that bruise on your jaw is a pretty good clue too”

“What can I say, you got me there” you put up your hands in surrender and he laughed.

“No shame in that though, love” your eyes widened at the nickname “I’m sure you’ll get better at it with time” he winked, and your eyes got even wider.

At that point someone luckily started another topic that you were not familiar with so you could focus on dealing with what just happened. You felt someone stare at you intently and looked up to see the well-known blue eyes boring into your face. His expression was somewhat sombre, and you briefly wondered if he could be jealous. You shook your head at the ridiculousness of the thought and took a large sip of wine. Neil was still looking at you and only stopped when he got asked about a recent mission. You listened curiously:

“Well it was nothing out of the ordinary. Inverted weapons dealer, murky transactions and a proper gunfight in the parking lot” he shrugged, and you wondered if that’s what the future holds for you.

“Any fuck ups this time?”

“Just a small… misunderstanding” Neil raised his arms to show the bruised forearms and the others laughed.

Then the conversation shifted towards more mundane things and you were happy to just listen. You have been pleasantly surprised by the camaraderie you noticed between the squad members and Neil. You have been asked a few questions about your past which were a nice change to the anonymity you got used to during the training. Sometimes you would look at Neil, giving in to curiosity. He was either listening to the conversation or joking with the rest, making use of the infinite charm he seemed to possess. You were not surprised to see that everyone seemed to like him. After a while you lost the sense of time and were pretty sure you had enough wine to regret it in the morning. So when someone mentioned that it is past 1am you groaned out loud and got up. The world swayed before your eyes and you waited another moment to adjust before speaking:

“Sorry I need to go now or else won’t survive the shooting training tomorrow” you smiled apologetically.

“Good luck with that!” Ives sent you another cheeky grin and you laughed.

“Thanks, will be needed” with that you moved towards the exit, waving goodbye.

You started walking down the corridor when you felt a hand touch your arm unexpectedly. You jumped up at the contact.

“Didn’t mean to startle you” Neil smiled, and you glared at him.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t creep up on me” you both continued down the hallway “Why did you leave the party?” “I’m quite tired” you glanced at him surprised “And because I have something important to tell you”

You stopped in front of your door and you leaned on the wall.

“The Protagonist wants to meet you” your eyes widened “That’s what me and Ives talked about before. He said that TP is interested in you and wants us to come to the HQ’s as soon as we can”

You stared at him in shock. It didn’t make any sense.

“Why?”

“No idea” he shrugged, and you were shocked to see him clueless “But I’ll go with you and I want us to get the plane on Friday after your training”

“That’s the day after tomorrow” you frowned, thinking about everything you would need to do before boarding on a plane to the US.

“I know. But from my experience I can tell you that if TP says something, it’s best to listen to him” he added, startling you with the serious tone.

He must have noticed how scared that made you because he reached out to touch your shoulder and gave it a gentle rub.

“Don’t worry about it for now though. I’ll arrange everything for the travel and will come by tomorrow afternoon with details” he let his hand fall to his side and you instantly missed the touch.

You raked through your head for something to say.

“So you’re not disappearing this time?” you asked finally, letting yourself eye him suspiciously.

“Certainly not” he grinned and watched as you opened the door to the room. When you got in, he added:

“But it’s good to know you’ve missed me” the playful sparks made you want to punch him in the teeth.

Instead, you just rolled your eyes pointedly, way too tired.

“G’night, Neil” you muttered and started closing the door.

“Sweet dreams” he whispered and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

You covered your head with your hands. This is very inconvenient, you thought while wondering how you got yourself into this situation.

[catxsnow]

I’M BATMAN B.W.

Request: Can I request a Bruce x reader fic? Where Bruce and the reader are together for a while. Bruce thought it would be just like his old flings but he realises that he's fell in love with the reader so he decides to tell her he is Batman. And during the confession he starts with "I am..." and the reader finishes with "Batman!" as a joke but then of course it turns out to be not a joke. After that an awkward but emotional conversation ensues. Whether you write it or not, thank you!

Warning: mentions of sexual content, fluff

A/N: I’m sorry that it’s taking me so long to get some of these requests out! I promise you they’re being written! 

Also the second I watch the New 52 animated movies I am the BIGGEST Bruce Wayne whore. One look at this motherfucker and I am WEAK

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.1k

When you first started seeing Bruce, it was nothing but casual. He would show up to your apartment or you to the manor, you'd spend your couple hours together tangled between his sheets and then both of you would continue on with your day. You were a fling, and at first, you loved it.

Bruce Wayne wasn't just the richest person in the Gotham, he also had to be the hottest too. For you to catch his eye was a mystery upon itself. You met him at work and had just luckily stumbled into him when you were walking through Wayne Enterprises. It was rare to ever see him while you were working.

Apparently you made enough of an impact on him for him to ask you if you would like to see each other that night. The look in his eyes had made you agree without even hesitating. Least to say, Bruce found out he like your bed more than he was expecting to.

It was nearly a year that the two of you would have casual sex. Never staying the night, never talking about what the hell was going on between the two of you. It was all fine and dandy until Bruce started getting you to stay over at the Manor. It wasn't very often that you would, but during the times that you did, you found yourself gaining feelings for him that you had managed to avoid the entire year.

You were smitten with Bruce and he saw you as nothing but a fuck.

Or so you assumed. Bruce wanted more with you. He didn't want this casual relationship anymore. It was so easy to talk to you about anything, even if you didn't know everything in his life. Bruce found a comfort in you that he didn't have in a long time. He found love in you.

It wouldn't be late nights that you would see each other any more. Bruce would find you while you worked and offered to go buy you lunch. Lunch dates turned to dinner dates which turned to him asking you to be his girlfriend. You felt giddy like high school girl again when he started to spoil you.

Your periodically timed sex with him turned into a full blown relationship. Down to the 'I love you' and the 'I want you to meet my kids'. Things with Bruce Wayne had become more serious than you ever imagined they would be. At the start of this, you always assumed that he would get tired of you and move on. He was the biggest playboy in Gotham.

You were surprised that you were the person to get him to change his ways.

That night, you and Bruce laid in his bed. The two of you half naked with a thin layer of sweat covering your bodies. You traced random little shapes into his skin as he stared up at the ceiling. You could tell by the way that his eyebrows furrowed that he was deep in thought.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked, sitting up right in the bed so you could see his face properly. The sheets were pulled up your chest as you reached for the shirt that he had previously been wearing. Bruce watched as you pulled the material over your head.

"I love you," he answered. Bruce was very cut off from you sometimes. You felt like you knew him pretty well, but then there were times that you felt like you didn't know him at all. Of course you knew about his childhood and his parents, you figured that was why he was so reserved sometimes. You learned not to pry, if he wanted to tell you, then he would.

"I know," you smirked at him. Bruce trailed his hand up your bare leg until he reached your waist. "But seriously, Bruce. You've been more quiet than usual, what's going on?" You were worried about him. It had only been a few years that you guys were together - half of that being just hooking up - but that didn't mean that you didn't know him well enough to see when he was conflicted about something.

Bruce said nothing. The pad of his thumb swiped against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. No matter how many times he touched you, he had the same affect that he had on you in the beginning.

You didn't push him to say what was on his mind. Bruce was a man of many secrets, that was just something that you were forced to learn to accept. You had your arguments about it, the bickering. The 'where were you last night' fights. All of them ended with Bruce assuring you that he loved you, and only you.

"I want to tell you something," Bruce finally caved. He was propped up on the pillows he had on the bed. His one hand still lingered on your skin and the other was tucked behind his head. The turmoil he had within himself about telling you the truth was eating him alive. You were the person that he wanted to spend his future with, meaning you needed to know the truth.

He just hoped that you felt so strongly about him as well. It wasn't often that either of you brought up the future, each to scared for your own reasons to see if the other was as committed. Of course you loved Bruce, you wanted to spend your life with him, to marry him one day. But he was so closed off, you couldn't tell if he ever wanted the same as well.

"So tell me," you continued for him when he took a pause. Bruce's eyes were filled with worry, doubt, you could tell that he was hesitant to tell you this. You pried his hand away from your waist and entangled your fingers. His hands felt so large in yours, years worth of callouses laced them.

"There's no easy way to tell you," Bruce tried to get you prepared. He felt your grip on him tighten before easing up again. Your heart rate was rising with nerves and you were terrified with what he was going to say. There was an endless list of possibilities and each one of them ended poorly for you. He was after all, a well-known playboy. "I am..."

"Batman!" You joked. As you laughed, you could see that his face was not only shocked but nearly... proud? Bruce's eyes darted away from you for a moment and your face dropped. You had only been joking to lighten the mood. Fear of what he could say clouded you and you blurted out the first thing that you thought would make you laugh.

But here Bruce was, shying away from you gaze and his hand limp in yours. You expected the worst from him - he was cheating on you, he didn't love you - and you were willing to say anything to stop your heart from racing out of your chest. But now, seeing the look on his face, what he wanted to tell you was nothing that you expected.

"Wait..." you trailed off. Your playful attitude washed away and quickly turned into a whole new kind of worry. Bruce Wayne, Batman? The more you thought about it the more it made sense. His sudden disappearances, his scars, his adoption of kids even lined up with the change in Robins. "That wasn't seriously it, was it? Bruce you're joking, you're not really Batman are you?"

"I'm Batman," Bruce confirmed. He was telling the truth. As much as he hid things from you - and now you could see why - he never lied to you. You sat their with your mouth agape, still processing his words. Your boyfriend, the loving and caring man that took care of you when you needed him was the same person that risked their life every night and mercilessly beat up criminals.

You needed a minute to process all that. After living in Gotham your whole life you had heard the rumors of the bat, at first you didn't believe them until you had seen him on the news. You never had the luxury of meeting him, and to be honest you were glad you didn't. He had always scared you.

Someone who went against psychopaths like Joker and Two-Face had to be some what insane.

Bruce watched you get off the bed and pace around him. You felt small under his gaze, the sudden information made you realize that he could squash you like a bug if he so wanted to. You were already intimidated by how fit he kept himself but knowing that he was Batman as well? That made you feel incredibly weak.

You guided your hands through your messy hair, unable to think clearly. All your thoughts were jumbled as you tried to piece everything together. The night at the gala that he had suddenly left you - the same night that Batman had put Bane in Arkham. The time that he had a bruise on his jaw and assured you that he had just been a klutz.

Bruce keeping so many things from you - this had covered just about every mystery there was to him. He kept you in the dark for so long because he not only wanted to protect his identity, but you. If he was telling you now, that meant that he must have wanted to keep you around for a while.

As you heart swelled with love rather than betrayal, you had finally stopped your pacing. Bruce had sat on the edge of your bed with nothing  but his underwear and tired eyes. He yearned for your touch, to comfort you through this revelation. However, he also could understand if you never wanted to see his face again.

Not everyone believed in the Batman.

Lucky for him, you did. Bruce was caught off balance as you pounced on him. His back fell against his bed and you straddled over top of him. Bruce trailed his hands up your bare legs to your hips as you kissed him. All those nights worrying what he was doing, you should have been worried about his life.

"I want to see it," you pulled away. "The legendary batcave. Prove you're really the bat." A coy grin played on your lips. Bruce knew that face, he knew what kind of trouble it could lead to. The last time he had seen that face, you had dragged him into his work office and gave him the best head of his life. This time, the circumstances were a little different.

Bruce nodded at you. He shoved on a pair of pants and lead you out of his room and towards the study. You watched as he opened the face of the old grandfather clock and pulled one of the dongles. A loud clicked echoed through the manor and the clock suddenly opened. No way.

Bruce gestured for you to follow. Your bare feet padded against the cold steps. He held your hand the whole way down, ensuring that you wouldn't fall. Bright lights shone through the dark cave and you were amazed by the room. Batman was truly equipped for anything. The space was incredible.

The suit Batman wore was on a mannequin in one of the glass cases. You stood before it, having to gaze up at it's glory. Bruce stood behind you, perfectly eye level with the cowl. He was Batman.

"Bruce this is incredible," You gawked. "I can't believe you trust me with this secret."

"Of course I trust you," Bruce assured. "You're the love of my life. If I want to spend a future with you,  you need to know all parts of my life." He continued to shock you that night - wanting a future with you as well? Bruce Wayne was full of surprises and you didn't think that you could handle anymore that night.

"I love you, too," You turned to face him. Once again, you had to stand on your toes to peck his lips. Bruce didn't realize how much weight was off his shoulders now that you knew the truth. He was tired of tip toeing around you all the time.

"Will you take me for a ride in the batmobile?"

"If you would like."

"Will you let me drive it too?"

"Don't push your luck."

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Objection

Note: I’m a sucker for AUs, so here is a Lawyer!Chris fic nobody asked for, the plot (or whatever) is veery loosely inspired by this book I’m reading atm (The Hating Game) and by the the fact that Chris talking about lawyer stuff is incredibly hot to me

Warning: swearing (a lot), smut, Chris bashing (for the story line, pls don’t take this seriously, I adore this man to death), NSFW, slight exhibitionism

Plus another warning, I am not a lawyer or trained in any other legal profession, so if there are inaccuracies in the way I used certain terms I am sorry

„Objection, your honor, this is hearsay!” you shouted, shooting a furious glance over to the defense table, and to the absolute menace standing in front of it.

Chris Cuomo. The most obnoxious, arrogant, loud-mouthed asshole you ever had the misfortune to meet in court. He was a senior partner at one of New York’s most prestigious law firms, specialized on getting their wealthy clients out of everything from tax fraud to outright corruption.

This man stood for everything that, in your opinion, was wrong with the justice system and this country in general. Everything about him screamed elitist, boarding school, frat boy, preppy rich guy that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He flaunted his famous last name around whenever he had the chance and it got him right to the top of the business.

You, on the opposite, went to law school on a scholarship, worked your ass of and now practiced law working for the district attorney to prosecute and convict the very people Cuomo tried to kept out of jail to afford the ridiculous Upper East Side Penthouse he probably had. You tried to push the fact that he was one of the most brilliant lawyers you knew aside, because you just hated him. No respect, no admiration for his legal genius, he was the bane of your existence fair and square.

You clashed heads in court more than once, and by now he knew exactly how to rile you up, smug bastard. His current client was accused of tax and investment fraud of incredible extent, and there he was, trying to discredit your main witness in front of the jury with some ridiculous accusations about them having a personal vendetta against the defendant. You saw your case crumbling in front of you as the witness got tangled up in Cuomo’s relentless questioning, stumbling over their own words, their credibility shrinking with each minute.

He did what he did best, lulling in people with his charm and striking when they least expected it. And he always did it with his disgusting smile on his disgustingly handsome face. Yes, of course he had to be a hot, fit, well-built asshole, making your professional life miserable at every chance he got.

Sometimes, he even had the audacity to wink at you. In court. During a trial. You wanted to punch him in his perfect face more than anything else.

The judge disrupted your thoughts.

“Dismissed, Ms. Y/L/N, and mind your tone in my courtroom. And Mr. Cuomo, please keep your questions professional or this interrogation will be over.” The judge said, shooting the both of you a warning glance.

“No more questions anyway, your honor, I think the jury heard it all.” Cuomo said, and almost strutted back to the defense table. And with a look over to the jury, you knew he was probably right. They eyed your witness suspiciously, and you almost wanted to stomp down out of pure rage. The fucker just destroyed your chance for a swift conviction right in front of your eyes. You needed more time to gather new evidence, or this would be over.

“Your honor, the prosecution is asking the court for adjournment.” You said, trying your best to not let your frustration show.

“Granted, the trial will be continued tomorrow. Court is dismissed.”

You put the case files into your bag and practically stormed out of the court room, passing the defense table without as much as a sideward glance.

But he caught up with you in the parking deck of the building.

“You’re aware you can’t win this one, right, Y/L/N? It’s all circumstantial, even you should see that.” His smug voice suddenly said from behind you as you were just about to get into your car.

You whirled around, pulse hammering in your chest out of pure anger.

“This is unprofessional even by your standards, Cuomo, I’m not discussing this case with you in a parking lot. Now why don’t you get into this environmental nightmare you call a car and leave me the hell alone.” You hissed, pointing over to where his obnoxiously big SUV was standing.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Y/L/N, just because you can’t handle yourself in court.” He said, smirk still firmly in place. His hands were playing with the car keys, and you were mesmerized for a second by how large his hands were. They looked like shovels.

“Whatever you’re plotting in that weird little brain of yours, stop staring at me.” Cuomo said, actually sounding a bit unsettled. You snapped out of it and went right back into anger mode.

“Staring at you? God, you’re so fucking full of yourself, aren’t you, you condescending prick? Not everything revolves around you and your spoiled ass, Cuomo.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, girl?” he snapped, raising his voice now. You clearly got to him, and seeing a crack in his arrogant façade gave you a satisfying sense of triumph. You couldn’t stop now, even if his angry face was screaming danger.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your highness, are you used to people worshipping the ground you walk on because you had the dumb luck to be born with the Cuomo name? Fun fact, nobody cares, you’re still an asshole, just with a fancy suit.” You really threw all caution away, and one look at Cuomo told you that you’ve definitely gone too far.

Because he was livid. There was a vein on his temple that was literally pulsating, his hands were balled to fists at his side and his blue eyes were so full of fury that you were scared to look directly at him.

He took two giant steps in your direction, backing you up against your car. You were caught, Cuomo’s giant frame in front of you with no way to escape his wrath.

You looked up at him, daring to meet his eyes directly. He looked at you like he was about to kill you. You tried to recall your fury from some seconds ago, but the heat radiating from his body and the way his huge arms had you trapped on both sides of your head were making it impossible for you to focus. Damn him for being so attractive. You wanted to fight him, but you also wanted to press yourself against his body and feel what was underneath that suit.

“You presumptuous little…” he spat, stopping himself before saying something truly insulting. He took a deep breath, and looked at you again. And then he saw it.

The way you were biting your lip, the way your pupils were dilated.

And he smiled, a cruel smirk that send shivers down your spine. He brought his face even closer to yours and dropped his voice.

“You know, I got really good at reading people, comes with the job, I guess. But you are making it so easy for me, Y/L/N, look at you?” His mouth was at your ear now, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Do you really want me to leave you alone? Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

You could barely think straight anymore, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it just came out as an embarrassing, needy whimper.

He chuckled darkly, and goosebumps broke out all over your body. Why did this man, that you hated more than almost anyone else, reduce to a state of arousal you had never experienced before just by whispering in your ear? Your panties were already soaked, and he didn’t even touch you. With your last few functioning brain cells, you cursed your needy, weak body, before you tiled your head to the side, baring your neck to Chris mouth.

He breathed over your skin, teasing you without actually touching. You felt like you were going insane.

“Please.” You whispered.

“What? Use your words, darling.”

“Kiss my neck, touch me, anything, just do it, asshole.” You hissed, glad you were able to form a coherent sentence.

“So impolite.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before starting to suck lightly. You moaned softly and pressed your pelvis into his. You could feel his hardness through his slacks, his unaffected behavior was clearly an act, he was just as aroused as you were.

One of his hands went down to squeeze your ass hard, bringing another surge of wetness to your panties.

Seeing him getting into this gave you some of your courage back, and you started to grind against him, making him growl against your neck.

“Is that everything you got, Cuomo.” You asked, trying to rile him up a bit. You really enjoyed the way he was manhandling you, as much as it pained you to admit it. But his hands were wandering under your skirt now, so you might as well just go with it.

Your provocative behavior clearly had the desired effect on him, because he grabbed your waist in a bruising grip, spun you around and pinned you against your car, his erection pressing against your ass. He yanked up your skirt and tore off your panties, leaving your lower body completely bare.

By now, you were glad that you picked the parking spot on the top floor, because your two cars were the only ones left and no one would come up here at this hour to catch you, about to be railed against your vehicle by Chris Cuomo.

“My, my, Y/L/N, this really turns you on, doesn’t it?” You could hear his breathy voice from behind you, and then felt a thick finger slowly being pressed into your aching pussy, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, you already are so wet for me.” Chris growled.

“Are you going to fuck me soon, or do I have to take care of it myself?” You asked, teasingly.

He swore under his breath and gave your ass a sharp slap, making you welp.

You heard the sound of his zipper, and the rustle of foil.

“You really brought a condom to court, Cuomo? Wow, you are even more shameless than I imagined.”

“Shut up.” He growled, and you did, because he lined up his cock and slowly started pressing into you. He was big, and you had to bury your face into your arm to muffle the obscene sounds coming out of your mouth at the feeling of being stretched like this. He bottomed out with a low moan, and immediately started a fast, hard pace, pushing you against your car with every move of his hips.

You turned your head around to look at him. His face was flushed, and his eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you.

The friction was delicious, and he was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust. Your moans became louder and louder, and he pressed one of his large hands over your mouth.

“Be quiet, you don’t want someone to catch little Miss Righteous being screwed in the parking lot by big, bad Cuomo, don’t you?” he whispered in your ear between husky breaths, and you could only cry out against his palm as he was speeding up his thrusts. The idea of someone catching you here was as arousing as it was terrifying.

Suddenly, Chris other hand sneaked around you to press on your clit, hard, and you screamed into his hand as your orgasm hit you like a punch to the gut, your walls gripping his cock like a vice while he was still fucking you through your climax.

“That’s it, darling, come for me. Fuck.” He groaned, before suddenly going tense as he reached his peak as well, cock buried deep inside you.

You slumped against your car with a huff, and the brief glimpse you caught of your reflection in the window made you question what you just did even more. Not only did you have (amazing, mind-blowing) sex with the opposing lawyer, he also absolutely wrecked you, you looked like you just had the roughest night ever with your hair undone, your makeup smudged and your panties in shreds on the floor of the parking lot. You hastily pulled down your skit again and tried to fix your hair as much as possible to get a minimum of decorum back.

Chris was just disposing the condom into a nearby bin, already looking calm and composed again. You hated him for that, and for the broad, self-satisfied grin that was all over his face again. And still, your heart gave a little flip as he approached you.

“That was fun.” He smirked, “We should definitely do that again. But not today, I’m busy. See you in court.”

He started to make his way to his car, and there was definitely a spring in his step.

“In your dreams, Cuomo.” You mumbled after him but couldn’t suppress a smile. That was, until you looked into the side mirror of your car to check your makeup and saw the giant, purple bruise on the side of your neck.

“Cuomo!” you screamed. “Come back here right now, you imbecile, you gave me a fucking hickey!”

“Better wear a scarf then tomorrow!” he called, entering his car. “And don’t make plans for after the trial, I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate my victory. And I mean that.”

And with that, he drove off. And as much as you hated yourself to admit it, you were really looking forward to having dinner with this idiot. After you destroyed him in court, of course.