#Batman one shot

[hanasnx]

❝ mercury: retrograde. ❞

── batman x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 2k SUMMARY: after your failed attempt to recover the last pieces of joker present in the victims of his diseased blood donation, you discover a mystery about the batman in both body and spirit. NOTES: during the events of batman: arkham knight, when harley quinn tries to reclaim the joker-ified victims from panessa studios. the reader is somewhat in the place of harley quinn WARNINGS: f!reader | explicit sexual content | implied creampie | unprotected sex | established relationship: enemies to lovers | size difference | slapping (m receiving) | previous relationship with joker is implied.

You stir at the feeling of strong grips handling your waist, the heavy haze of unconsciousness fading as you’re lifted from the ground. Memories gradually return with each inch gained, and your eyelids flutter open, the dull light stinging your gaze. The motion of you being punctually raised to your feet only to be thrown over the shoulder of none other than the BATMAN is jarring to say the very least. “Hey. Hey!” you interject when you come to, your mouth finally catching up with your brain as your stomach makes contact with his armored shoulder, and the wind is knocked from your lungs.

“Take Charisma back to the cells. I’ll catch up.” he orders the newest Boy Wonder. A man clad in red and green holds Johnny Charisma in a similar fashion to your position, mirroring you.

Robin nods, and sees himself out. “Don’t take too long.” he jests, and if you were paying more attention you would’ve rolled your eyes. Instead, you’re much too busy running your mouth with any kind of noise, kicking your feet, and banging your fists against the Bat’s lower back. With each blow, the cape bounces back to brush your angry hands, and in a brief fascination you clutch onto the foreign material with the intent to rip it. Of course, it doesn’t, and you consider the possibility of tearing into it with your teeth as you would duct tape. To calm your writhing legs, he straps an arm around your thighs, lumbering along with you on his shoulder as if you simply weren’t there. It’s dizzying being all the way up here, the Bat towers over most everyone… it’s that or all the blood that’s rushed to your head. He enters a different room than where Robin went, and momentarily you entertain the fact he seeks to interrogate you. But what could you possibly know that the Bat wants? It was always Joker with the big ideas. Now that he’s gone, you’ve been trying replace him as the Head Guy but it’s just not the same.

So you thrash. You move your body in any way you can think of, anything to loosen his vice-like grasp on you, but he is infallible. Taking you deeper into this abandoned set in Panessa Studios. “Put me down—! Hey! Are you listening to me? I said, put- me- down— Oh!” Your commands are interrupted by your own squeak of surprise as he unceremoniously drops you, landing on your feet with a bounce as your countenance shifts to one of endearing disbelief. You rally, skewing your features to convey indignity. “How dare you?” you scold, but it’s grossly performative. You raise your hand, punctuating your disdain for him with a sharp slap of admonishment to his cheek. It reverberates in this empty room, and his neck has craned from the force. Perhaps out of respect. You’ve seen this freak throw grown men across the room, you’re sure he feels nothing but a sting on his skin. So you give him another one, smacking him to pivot him to the other side.

“Touching a lady like that! You should know better! I’m wearing a skirt! Anyone could’ve seen! What would my men think of their boss if they’ve seen her panties? Huh? Do you have any idea what it takes to be a leader in this economy?” With each passing phrase, your voice heightens shriller, the emotion of the scene getting to you, but he is unaffected. Slowly, he faces you, opening his eyes to meet your vindictive gaze. “You—! You’re the one that killed him, if he were still alive I wouldn’t have to be in this mess—“ your tone cracks at the mention of the Joker, and a desperate sort of need takes you over. You throw yourself onto the statuesque vigilant who remains expressionless as you clutch onto whatever purchase his tight armor possesses, climbing up his chest to his collar.

Your instability is cause for your sudden shift in depression and wrath; one second you’re clinging onto him, shaking him (or more accurately, shaking yourself using him and his immovable body), and the next you’re pinching your features into a frown and weakly banging your fists against his chest for round two. They glance off, and he stares down at you. It takes you an inappropriate amount of time to question how long he’s been letting you do this to him, until he side-steps you. Comically, you fall forward from the loss of balance, the lack of his beam-like support causing you to stumble and clumsily regain your footing to round on him.

“Enough.” he commands, and his recognizably annoyed tone sets your lips into a thin line. “Tell me what you know.” Inviting himself into your space, this dark towering figure stoops to your level, forcing you to arch back as he imposes.

You audibly gulp, scanning his form. He notes that. That scares you. So you attempt to throw him off the trail, taking a step back so you have room to straighten, cross your arms, and stick your nose in the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you insist, and wiggle your shoulders, peeking at him through your closed eyes to gauge his reaction. You don’t have time to react before his huge glove has enclosed in the puffy fabric of your sleeve, yanking you back to him. Instinctively, you reach out, bracing against his chest so you won’t trip again. A furtive glance is paid to your hand’s position on his emblem, and when you meet his gaze he’s already looking at yours.

“You’re here for the patients. You think they’ve got the potential to replace him, don’t you?” Just like that, he ruins the moment with his big mouth.

You scowl, lifting yourself on your toes as if that’ll intimidate him. “They are him!”

“He’s dead!” The anger behind his words admits how resentful he is that you won’t deal with the Joker’s death.

“Because of you!”

“Don’t be stupid.” An alarming shift in his tone conveys an uncharacteristic smugness, one that creases your brow in bewilderment because of how likely the phrase sounded like Batman was about to laugh at you. “How long are you going to live in that fantasy?”

“I—” you begin, but a flash catches you off-guard. Untensing, you search his eyes for that flash again. A glint. A glimpse of that familiar viridian. You’ve looked into Batman’s eyes countless times, you know his irises are colored blue. But for one single second, you could’ve sworn you saw a little of J in there. As if you weren’t in control of your own body, you take a step forward. A great sense of relief overcoming you at the sight of green blooming faithfully in Batman’s eyes. “It’s you…” you muse in wonder, your gentle hands coming to cup his rough face, your fingertips grazing the helmet’s smooth material.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you stunned the Bat. But he doesn’t let it last long, growling in offense as he uses your abused top to toss you against a prop wall. You clatter against the hollow wood, meagerly propped up by the 2x4s on the other side. His massive fist nails the surface right by your head, and you’re too in awe to flinch.

“Tell me what I want to know!” The Batman orders, and you know exactly what to tell him. You pounce on him, draping your body all over his armor as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” you exclaim. You had no idea a little taste of Joker blood had infiltrated the Big Bad Bat. Here he is, right in front of you again. Old feelings come flooding back as your lips peck at whatever is in reach, punctuated with audible “muahs.”

He recoils, but your grip only tightens, clinging onto him until he pries you off by his hands on your wrists.

“Oh, baby,” you croon, bending over to show him your cleavage as you wiggle it for him. “Why you gotta make me wait, huh? Didn’t you miss me too?” Your wrists, suspended in mid-air, make your arousal run impossibly deeper. Firmly enclosed in his big hands, restrained, you could jump out of your own skin. You tilt your head at him as he observes you, as unperturbed as ever, and you wonder if he’s fighting off the Joker-persona that takes over. “You know you want it…” you exhale, lusty and provocative. “I know you do. Whether you’re the Bat or the Joke I know you want me.” you test. Your tongue licks at the lipstick on your lips. “Don’t worry,” you whisper, desperate. “I won’t tell anyone.”

This is not the first time he’s been tempted by you, yet he finds it more difficult than the last to refuse you. He allows you to take a step closer. “Fuck it.” he says, and you squeal with delight as he scoops you up, pinning you back to the wall. You slam your lips to his, and he eagerly accepts you. The kind of kiss that’s fucking sloppy. Disgusting. As reserved and formal as he is in kissing you, you’re far too disorderly for that. All tongue, you thrust it out between your lips to shove it into his, enthusiastic in playing with his. Surprisingly, he accepts it but doesn’t match your energy as you tongue-fuck his mouth. You trace it over all the wrong places, giddy in the notion you know what the inside of Batman’s mouth feels like. You line it over his his teeth until you’re sure you could recreate his dental print from memory.

It all happens so fast. One second you’re making out, sucking on his tongue like it’s his cock, the next his utility belt is on the floor and his actual cock is rearranging your insides. He’s a lot bigger than your old boss.

“Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there!” you mewl your praises, wet pussy gratefully slurping up his every inch. It’s unfathomable how long you’ve gone without proper dick, and something about the way he’s bullying his way into you hits the spot. Everything from the angle of fucking you against this wall, to the gruff and animalistic exhales he expels with each thrust has your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Oh, my fucking God! Who knew you could fuck like this? If I’d’ve known you feel this good I would’ve hopped on your bat-cock years ago.” Mindless, stupid ramblings of a thankful whore, reeling from his thick fingers that leave bruises in the flesh of your thighs. He’s relatively quiet, letting you do the talking, perhaps he already regrets his decision to screw you but it’s too late now. Whatever implication this proves he’s not stopping to examine the morality of it, chasing his high and using your body to do it.

The familiar tremor in your thighs lets you know how close you really are, clawing at his armor. His hand cups your jaw, tucking your chin into the web of his thumb, pinching your cheeks together a bit as he adjusts you to look at him. “You wanna finish?” he asks through the grit in his teeth, and you nod furiously, stifled by his hold.

“Yes. Yes, baby, I wanna finish. I wanna cum.” you whine, seeking to please him.

“Promise to be good?”

A stinging thrill shoots up your spine originating from your sex. You had no idea he was into that kind of stuff, nor implementing it. You go crazy for it. Once again, you nod furiously. Whatever that definition entailed— to be good— you would do it. Anything for him. “I promise, I promise. I promise to be good, I promise.”

You find out later being good entails being thrown into a cell to await policy recovery. Oh, but it was fucking worth it.

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Alternative Universe Father-In-Law

Word Count: 2,700

Summary: Bruce enters a portal by mistake, leading him to bring back someone from another universe for a nice breakfest.

Pairing: Bruce x female!reader

Notes: I enojyed the comic and the animated movie where thomas meets bruce and i had an idea to write for it. also give alfred some well desserved flowers in being a dad. #alfreddesreveshisflowers

Warnings: dad that has come back with the milk

'I am telling you, Lois. Clark is stubborn, but he has a weak spot; mention the missing turkey of '08, and he will shut up and let you do whatever you want. "

'Wait! That really works?'

'Of course, it does. I have known Clark for 7 years, and I was the witness to that crime, so just mention it: he will fall back, trust me. Now I have to go. I am home.'

'Thanks, doll!'

'No worries, bye!'

Opening the big door, you enter with your phone nestled on top of your shoulder as you held the grocery bags. Stepping into the manor, you noticed the living room where Alfred was dusting behind the plasma screen.

'Mistress y/n. Welcome back.' The cheerful butler spoke as he walked to you, grabbing the grocery bags

'Thank you, Alfred. How was your day?' I asked him, striding next to him as we entered the spacious kitchen that held the marble island in the middle, placing the bags on top of it

'My day was good. The gardener came by and took care of the bush that Master Damian had 'shaped' with his swords yesterday. Although the poor man left with a terrible mind haze after finishing the Herculean task, managing to shape it back into a proper bush, and not some rhombus as Master Damian did.'

'Do remind me to tell Damian to leave the shrubs at peace. Maybe he can use those swords' skills to cut up meat when we have BBQs.'

'That seems like a great idea.'

The two hushed and resumed their conversation as Damian entered, his smile non-existent, his eyes scrunched into a tight-knit. You turn to him, saying with a slight chuckle

'Speak of the devil. What's up, Dami?'

The child walked between Alfred and you, crossing his arms and with a deep sigh, he articulated gradually

'Father has disappeared.'

You look at Alfred, knowing fully well that sometimes Bruce disappears to follow a clue, 'He will turn up by the end of the day. Bruce is like that, don't worry, sweetheart.'

'That is true, even before his vigilante lifestyle, Master Bruce was always the one to go with no notice but always turned up when his belly rumbled.'

With a giggle nestled in Alfred's sentence, Damian spoke again, shaking his head 'No. Father and I have been working on a portal and when I was grabbing a tool, he connected two wires, which opened a portal and pulled him in. By the time I came close, the portal closed.'

Looking at Alfred with a concerned look, you spoke what you two were thinking, 'And how come you two didn't tell us about that portal?'

Damian shook his head 'I-I have no clue, y/n.'

'Okay... and do you know where the portal leads to?'

'Between our world and other 456 parallel universes.'

fuck

Sighing deeply, you look at Damian 'So we have 1 in a 456 chance of finding him?'

'Yes. So are we going?' Damina asked, ready to jump into the adventure of the chance to jump from one universe to another

'No. We aren't. Damian, I can barely turn on the TV here without asking for help. And by no means will I manage to open a portal. We only have to wait and be next to the Bat computer to see if there are any anomalies. If an anomalie happens, I know someone who can help us.' I say, looking at the small assasin child

Damian looks up at you, his eyes asking questions, 'Who do you know, mother?'

'A friend, someone I knew way before you and Bruce. Even before I met Clark.'

You look at Alfred smiling 'He will show up, right Alfred?'

Alfred responds, faying his smile 'Of course, Misstress y/n.'

While the day dragged along in a snail-pace of time, you felt yourself doze off on the bat computer, a small trail of drool leaving a trail on the keyboard that was far too uncomfortable, but when you are fatigued, anything can be a pillow, and that stiff neck fo yours is a problem in the morning.

A shift in the air moved and circled, stirring you up from your slumber. Your eyes slowly open, adjusting to the luminous light that materialized in the Batcave, the wind pushing around the whirlpool of light as a tall, a dark shadow exited out. Staying up on numb legs, you felt the same pull you felt with Bruce, a warm safe space that drew you two always closer.

'Bruce?' you asked cautiously as you paused. The shadow you saw his features, the sharp hairstyle that was always in place, his tall and muscled build that was engraved in your mind. You knew that was him. Moving to him, you felt a wave of relief wash over you but another one followed, disappointment.

'Where were you?! We were worried sick about your stupid ass! How could you not tell me that you were making a goddamn portal in the house, Bruce!' you directed your words at him, the light of the rustled and shined over his taller-than-usual figure but nonetheless, you continued, 'And don't think for a fact you went to another universe that means I will get any sympathy from me. You are sleeping on the couch for the next 3 weeks.'

As the portal began to size down the light shimmered down you step back letting yourself catch a breath, sure you were mad but you were also glad that he was alive.

With the portal gone, the shadow started to dissipate bringing back the man you loved. You waited, a small smile on your face as you heard him speak a few shades deeper than what you know 'You were right. She is a firecracker.' Stepping back few more steps at the unfamiliar tone you watched a shape move behind him tall as him, same as him, did Bruce duplicate?

Leaning on the Bat computer, ready to press the button on the keyboard to call the remainder of the Bat Family you watched carefully as one moved closer to you, revealing... Bruce, your Bruce with a small smile.

'Sorry I was gone, dalrin.''

'Bruce, what is going on?'

'I met someone along the way.' Bruce steps for you to see the man that you talked to, with one confident step the man steps to you, his features coming to light, grey hair styled in a way that not even the wind could move one strand, his blue eyes decorated with wrinkles and his smile eerily identical to Bruce's looking at them side by side it struck you

'Love, this is my father, Thomas Wayne. In the universe I stumbled upon was a universe where my father was the Batman, and I was shot that night.'

Thomas smiled warmly at you, offering a hand to shake 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. L/n. Bruce has told me a great deal about you.' Shaking his strong hand, you think

What a great first impression. First, I thought he was Bruce and second I gave him an earful. What a great first impression.

'It is great to meet you, Dr. Wayne. I apologize for my actions beforehand, I thought you were Bruce and wel-'

'No worries about that. It is great to know that my son has someone who keeps him in check.' He spoke as you awkwardly laughed it off.

Bruce stood next to you, placing a hand on your waist 'Let's try this one more time. Father, this is Y/n, she is the love of my life, and the woman I wish to marry and spend the rest of my life.'

It's your time to be shocked yet again. You and Bruce never talked about it, only joking about being called Mrs.Wayne but he never communicated his desire to get married. Thomas glimpsed at the two of you, Bruce stood proudly with you while you tried your best to conceal your red cheeks and shocked eyes at his claims 'You better treat her right, son.' Thomas spoke

'He does, Dr. Wayne.'

You uttered, looking at the alternative universe father-in-law as Bruce examined your expression and in that moment, he felt himself fall in love yet again with you.

'How about we grab a bite? I am sure that Dr. Wayne would appreciate a good breakfast.'

Thomas nodded his head in agreement, beaming 'I'd love that, but y/n, no need for formalities. Call me Thomas. I haven't been a doctor in decades.'

'Sure. Thomas.'

Grabbing Bruce's hand you three exit the Batcave and head to the living room.

Strolling into the living room, you smelt Alfred's mouthwatering breakfast, scented the familiar maple syrup, and took notice of the sizzling bacon.

'I am bringing our guests.' You announced and Alfred cracked a smile as he watched you bring Bruce into the dining room where Damian was already seated. Alfred placed the lofty breakfast on the table. Pivoted to Bruce switching into scolding mode 'Now, young Master, I think we could have a great and lenghty chat about what goes in the Batcave.'

As Bruce stood behind you, Thomas' voice boomed into the ear of the butler 'I agree, Pennyworth. He surely needs that talk."

Alfred froze when he heard that voice. His eyes caught onto Thomas and he felt and thought that he was dead, joining the afterlife as there was no way that the deceased Thomas Wayne was standing before him.

'Master Wayne?' Alfred weaved quietly towards the man, and Thomas smiled 'Hello, old friend.'

He spoke, grabbing the longtime friend into a bone-crushing hug. Smiling at the interaction, Damian stood from his seat, walking towards his alternative universe grandfather 'So by my conclusion…you are my grandfather?'

Thomas stepped and crouched down to his eye level, smiling 'Yes, but I am. From another world.'

'I figured as much.'

Thomas looked at Damian and Bruce, his gaze shifting from one to another 'The resemblance is uncanny. He is your and y/n's copy.'

You felt yourself freeze as you interrupted him 'Thomas, he isn't mine. I--i mean he is my son but he didn't come from my stomach. Damian's mother is a leader of a group of assassins.'

Thomas stood up, watching his son 'You cheated, son?'

Bruce shook his head 'Father, no. Damian's mother and I met before me and y/n. Damian's mother was a --'

'She is a cold-hearted assassin who doesn't care about me or my well-being.' Damian cut in, saying what he considered his mother.

Thomas looks to the side, a bit shy about this situation, thanks Bruce.

Alfred coughs dryly, breaking the tension 'Let us all sit for a nice breakfast.'

Sitting next to Bruce you saw his smile, his true smile. The one reserved for you, comfort moments you both encountered and made, a smile that told you he felt at peace.

As everyone ate you desired to ask questions your father-in-law 'So Thomas, what do you think about Bruce being this world's Batman?'

Thomas looks at you a slight smile 'I always believed in the multiverse, and I alwats hoped that in one of them my son is alive and living his life. Being Batman, I suppose, is a part of the Wayne lineage, but what I mostly hold important in my heart is that my son is happy.' And he smiles bigger. 'And I can see that he truly is.’

Blushing at Thomas' words you looked at Bruce, your eyes twinkling with love while his blue irises showered you in silent praise 'I definitely am.'

Damian whispers to Thomas 'Thanks a lot. Now they will make-out in front of us.' Thomas laughs, whispering in the exact low tone 'That's good. It's better than to fight, besides, Martha adn I were the same. Always in love, never apart.'

Bruce turns to Damian saying slyly, 'You are aware that you are across the table, and not 40 meters away, Damian. We can still hear you.'

Damian rolls his eyes, playfully but nonetheless taking his grandfather's words to heart. It is definitely better for them to be in love and not fight. 'I have to feed Bat-Cow. Y/n, will you help me? I am too short to get the ball of hay.'

Smiling you stand up, leaving with Damian. Alfred, Thomas, and Bruce stayed at the table.

'Bat-Cow?' Thomas asked, perplexed, while his hands tingled

'No worries, Master Wayne. Thankfully, it is not a hybrid of a cow and bat; it is just a plain cow with an artistic name.' Alfred spoke

'Father, stay.' Bruce blurred out, declaring the thing he wished he would receive an optimistic answer to

'Bruce... I can't. If I stay long enough, my universe will disappear. Besides, if I did.... I don't want you to grieve all over again.'

'Believe me, Master Wayne...Master Bruce still grieves to this day.'

Thomas stands up from his seat, hugging his son 'I love you, Bruce. There is no need to grieve anymore. It won't change anything. You have no idea how much it brings me happiness to see you happy with Alfred, your son, and Y/n.’ Thomas didn't let Bruce stand up, not to see the small pixel-like specs encircling Thomas' legs. Alfred noticed the scene but stayed silent.

'When I see you looking at your son and Y/n I see myself and my life I had before that night. And it makes me so happy to see it. I know that it can be better. You make me proud every day, and will continue to do so."

The pixels reached Bruce's eyesight, standing up to look at hIs father, Bruce weakly said 'Stay...please.'

'It's not me to decide but I am happy I had a nice meal with your family.'

Kissing his forehead, Thomas dissipated back into his universe. Bruce looks at Alfred a small tears escaping his eye. The two men stand up, hugging each other, leaning on this moment. Bruce wanted to talk to his father more to make up for the lost and stolen time. It was time that he wanted nothing more than to be a son again. Alfred wanted to talk more to Thomas about Bruce. To tell him how he has matured, how he traveled the world and yet came back home, in Gotham, to make the city shine brighter than ever. To tell him how Bruce keeps an engagement ring for y/n ever since she moved into the manor but is not sure when to pop the question.

Both Bruce and Alfred wanted to tell him about their path of trying to grasp at straws to find justice in this forsaken town.

Pulling away from the hug Alfred spoke, 'As you can see, your father is proud at you. And I believe that goes for every Thomas Wayne in any alternative universe.'

Bruce looked at Alfred, nodding in confirmation 'I do believe that but I also am proud of the father that raised me as well. The one standing in front of me.'

Alfred's eyes twinkled in appreciation no words needed to be spoken at that response, there simply weren't those words that could how Alfred felt in this moment.

Steps echo closer and closer as you come back, with no sight of Thomas.

'Is he gone?' You ask, seeing Bruce walk to you, a smile on his face.

Bruce nods, hugging you, Feeling a bit sad at not being able to say goodbye to your father-in-law you ask Bruce 'How are you feeling?'

Pulling away Bruce chuckles 'Good. This moment made me realize some things. About my family.'

Bruce understood. The reason he went into that portal and brought his father here, it was a shifting moment for him, a moment to bring him in a more grateful state, he knew how lucky he was to have Alfred as his father figure, his son, and you, possibly his future fiancee.

That is until he pops the question.

Hope you enjoyed it!

[justanoasisimagines]

First Impressions.

Summary; Bruce is distracted when he meets you at a Gala Pairing; Bruce Wayne x Female Reader WordCount; 552 Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

Bruce navigated the room with practiced ease. He slipped into the room with precision. Bruce knew exactly what to say, and who to say it to. Bruce knew the attendees who he needed to work harder to obtain what he wanted.

Events like this Bruce often remained focused during a Gala such as these. Albeit, he often found himself bored. It was all about keeping up appearances.

However, Bruce was distracted tonight. A long flowing black gown glided across the floor. Eyes met momentarily as Bruce allowed a subtle smile to grace his lips. A mirror image as you brought a champagne flute to your crimson-painted lips.

Bruce didn't care for any other guests tonight. Except you. He wanted to make your acquaintance. Suddenly, Bruce was no longer engaged in the current conversation. He nodded his head, providing short answers. Desperate to end the conversation to make his introductions.

Bruce allowed the conversation five more minutes before he made his excuses. He took two champagne flutes from the waiter passing by.

You were alone, taking a breather from the constant barrage of questions and fake pleasantries. Unlike many you were attending because you cared about helping under privileged children. Unlike those who were heard to spread and hear gossip.

"You look like you could use this" Your eyes glanced up to be met with the hose for the evening. Blue eyes met yours. "Thank you, this place looks beautiful." You examined the room taking in the sight. His team had done an amazing job. Except Bruce couldn't admire he view because he couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were breathtaking.

"I can't take the credit. I have an excellent team. They're the ones who made it possible." "Well then you have a great team, Mr. Wayne, you should be proud." "Thank you and please call me Bruce." Bruce angled himself towards you, interested in taking in every minuscule detail about you. That was only the beginning for Bruce, he wanted to know you inside and out. Bruce's nerves were on edge. He'd never been so compelled before. Never by another person. "So what brings you here tonight?" "I work alongside the charity. You're doing excellent work you have no idea how much of an impact the donations will have getting kids off the streets, giving them a chance at life." Bruce admired the way you spoke, The passion in your voice, the way your animated hands reiterated that. "I'm always willing to help any way I can. Gotham's youth are going to bring change. It's something I'm passionate about Bruce observed your smile widen. "I wish others here tonight held your sentiment. Most are here for the publicity and the idle gossip. Tonight's more about flaunting their wealth. They will not give a second thought to the children tonight." "Perhaps we could arrange dinner? Talk about the ways I could help. I'd love to get more involved. "Thank you, I don't know what to say." "Say yes. Let me take you out. Somewhere more intimate and less pretentious. We can talk about everything and make a plan. Bruce gave you a moment, hoping this could provide the opportunity to get to know you and create a different change rather than fighting Gotham's underbelly. "Sure I'll go to dinner with you."

[devilfic]

❝hard-knock life❞

plot: even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, you’re more than willing to help your fiancé tie up all his loose ends... even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddler’s followers make a threat on bruce’s life and the one time alfred shoots them for it. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: humor, fluff, established relationship, you and bruce are engaged, I use “fiancé” gender-neutrally, generally silly but some angst, serious but cartoonishly awful attempts at violence, guns, excessive use of the word “goon”, based off this post by @emma-d-klutz​. words: 3.5k.

a/n: I just can’t stop thinking about this post

Bruce figures he could look a little more concerned right now.

One goon holds a phone up to his face—so that he can see himself on screen—while two more have his arms arrested in their grip. The comments on the live stream are moving too fast, but he imagines they’re not worth reading.

The goon holding the phone laughs through his mask, clearly amused by Bruce’s lack of emotion, “Look at the little Gotham prince trying to put on a brave face. Won’t be so brave in a minute now, will you?” 

Bruce assumes they’re referring to their comrade in arms a few feet away, readying a pistol, but he can’t look long; he feels a harsh kick to the backs of his knees and he kneels against the gravel. This close to the docks, they could dispose of his body in the river after his swift execution. Was it weird to be offended by their choice? He was kind of offended. Almost as offended as he was when he’d figured out their plan two days ago.

“I can offer you money,” Bruce recites, your idea, unenthusiastically, “anything. Anything you want.”

The goons laugh. The one holding the pistol steps forward and places the barrel against Bruce’s temple. “Anything we want, huh? Why don’t you tell our audience how you should’ve just died when the Riddler gave you a chance? What a glorious death you would have had.”

Bruce wants to tell them that it’s not exactly his fault Edward didn’t make sure he was home before trying to kill him. He imagined that would just anger them more. Bruce takes a deep breath.

The safety on the gun clicks off when a heavy fog starts crawling toward them from beneath a nearby dumpster. Some of the goons exclaim in confusion and the executioner points toward the smoke.

“What the fuck is that?” The cameraman yells, turning to film the steadily approaching fog. It’s thick and moving quickly, starting to crowd around the Riddler’s followers like a dramatic omen. It isn’t long before Bruce can’t see a foot in front of him. His arms flex, waiting for the telltale sound of his namesake.

A sudden chorus of chirping overhead has Bruce ducking, the trigger-happy goon shooting off into the sky as black wings speckle the fog. 

The two holding Bruce still are suddenly forced off of him. There’s the sound of violent fighting in the midst of the fog but Bruce is more focused on the shooter, his position given away only by the bullets he shoots off with reckless abandon. Mapping his position on the docks, Bruce takes a violent leap forward and feels himself collide into him, dragging his much smaller body forward and forward and forward until-

Splash!

Bruce can’t see it through the fog, but he hears the goon hit the railing and fall into the river below soon after.

“Shit, shit, shit! We’ve been ambushed!” The one filming is the last one standing. He scrambles nearby, trying to find an escape. Within the fog, a dark figure approaches him, and Bruce can just make out the sound of their opponent’s nose getting crushed by the weight of the attacker’s palm. The phone falls out of the goon’s hand when he collapses, unconscious. 

Shortly after, the wind carries away the remaining fog and Bruce walks into the clear night where he sees you perched behind the dumpster, giving him a thumbs up over the machine that sputters out white haze. “Did we do it?” You ask, giddy. 

Alfred walks out of the fog next. It was a miracle Alfred could even see in the Batsuit. It dwarfed him. “I believe we did. Are you alright, Master Bruce?”

“Alright” was a stretch for what tonight’s events had done to his mood, though he’s thankful he doesn’t have a bullet-sized hole where his oncoming migraine should be. Bruce is just happy to have pulled this off in the first place. “Peachy,” he grits through his teeth, “is the stream still going?”

Alfred hums, wiping some of the goon’s blood off his knuckles, “No, I think enough has been seen tonight. The GCPD will be on their way shortly.”

That was a relief. Their theatrics weren’t all for nothing. With luck, tonight’s failed execution would serve as a warning to the Riddler’s remaining followers: Bruce Wayne was untouchable, and any attempt on his life would result in the same fate. Maybe now they’d stop trying to kidnap him off the street.

They, in fact, did not stop.

Alfred had taken the necessary precautions to ensure Bruce did not die in the following days after the docks incident, and with the added threat of paparazzi flooding the tower, Bruce was confined inside until further notice. As far as anyone was concerned, Bruce Wayne was taking some vacation time after a “harrowing” threat on his life. It only made sense. No business engagements for two weeks, at least.

This vacation was, of course, not for the Batman.

Bruce had a wedding to be planning for God’s sake, and yet here he was, perched in the shadows, watching as five squirrelly idiots set up shop across from Wayne Tower... to snipe him, they’d said online.

This was the other downside of the Riddler’s fans gunning for revenge on the Batman: Bruce had to spend ungodly hours on their forums combing for new threats on his life. Most of them were half-baked plans too big to pull off, but the few that weren’t were constantly on his radar.

It wasn’t that Bruce was afraid for his own life, though. He was afraid for yours. The Batman could walk off a bullet wound and Bruce Wayne had fortified his body against most attacks. You, on the other hand, were painfully mortal. One well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and he’d lose you.

“Looking awfully severe tonight, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce cracks a half-smile when your voice crackles to life in his ear, right on cue. You must’ve been getting into position. Bruce makes sure his voice is low enough that the goons can’t hear him from his perch. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

You really, really didn’t. He could easily wipe out these five on his own with only a few injuries sustained, but you had worried over the guns and convinced him he’d need all the help he could get. Even if it was just a measly distraction, “Don’t worry. Batman will protect me.” You sing.

Your shadow passes a window and one of the goons lines up a shot for you. He propels himself down onto the sniper’s back, knocking him out cold.

There’s considerably fewer goons tonight than there were upon his kidnapping, which Bruce finds amusing. Maybe he could get a few hours of patrol in after thwarting this second attempt on his life. Maybe you’d still be awake by the time he got home, and he could pull you away from poring over wedding plans to celebrate a job well done-

Away in his own mind, he isn’t prepared for the butt of a rifle cracking up against the cowl. In the time it had taken him to run away with his thoughts, he’d downed four of them already. He slowly turns. No hurry.

The goon flinches back, eyes wide behind the non-prescription frames slipping off his nose. If Bruce’s ears weren’t still ringing from the hit, he might have went for the temple and called it a night. But again, no hurry.

Bruce grapples the man by the front of his coat and dangles him over the ledge of the building. Softly, he hears you gasp over the comm line, “You’re not gonna drop him, are you?”

Instead of answering you, Bruce gives the goon a good shake, “This won’t end well for you.”

The goon is shivering in Bruce’s grasp, clutching onto his wrist for dear life, swatting at air to get leverage. Bruce extends his arm out further and two voices exclaim this time. “Y-You betrayed him! You betrayed the Riddler!” The voice that comes out of the man is squeaky, almost young. Bruce frowns. “The Waynes will pay for what they’ve done to Gotham!”

“Are those your words or his?”

He falters some, unsure, and obviously it isn’t Bruce’s job to play therapist. He doesn’t know what this kid is getting out of working for the Riddler, what lies he’s been fed. All he knows is that someone had pointed a gun at his fiancé and tonight could have gone very differently if he hadn’t been ready.

But this kid wasn’t the one holding the gun. “I’m giving you a warning: leave the Waynes alone,” Bruce drags him close enough for their eyes to meet, “there won’t be a second warning.”

The goon all but scrambles onto his feet the second Bruce drops him back onto solid ground, having only that second to gather his bearings before Bruce brings his fist down onto his head, knocking him out with the rest of his friends. Tying their wrists behind their backs is quick work, as is piling their worrying amount of weaponry far, far from reach. One quick request to Gordon for cleanup is the icing on the cake.

Bruce is scaling his way down the building when you chime in once more, “You alright, handsome? I hope these guys aren’t getting to you.”

Getting to him was an overstatement. They had to pose an actual threat to get to him, “I wasn’t going to drop him.”

“You were thinking about it, but you would’ve caught him right after. Are you heading out for patrol?”

His lip twitch is the only sign of argument against you because you unfortunately know him well. Bruce slips into the shadow of an alleyway, scanning the street for any other surprises. “Maybe... maybe later. I’m heading back to the tower.”

He hears you make a little noise on the other end, watches your figure outlined in the glass by the lamplight. It’s dark out and you’re high up, but somehow, he feels like you find him down there anyway, “You better take off that suit before you track gutter water through my house, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce can’t help it. He laughs, “I thought you liked it when the suit stays on.”

You had made it a priority, if you were to marry Bruce, that he make time for date night.

Obviously, with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Batman, you didn’t expect him to always have time to spare. That was the compromise you’d made long before he’d gotten down on one knee. However, for his sake (”-and the sake of Gotham!” you’d added, just to be safe), break time was a must. An hour at least, maybe two if you were lucky. He didn’t even have to spend it conscious. You’d spent plenty a night with his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, reading a book or telling him about your day.

Tonight would have been the same had you not convinced him to come out in disguises. With a little prompting, you two had had a great night on the town. You’d all but forgotten the hectic past week.

And then you both had walked into the penthouse, giggling through the front door, only to find Alfred lugging a dead body across the living room floor. “He’s not dead.” Alfred assured. A body, then.

Bruce rushes in front of you, “Jesus, Alfred. What happened?”

The butler looks far too nonchalant for the scene, but you do notice the lack of a blood trail.

“I was making tea. Enjoying a quiet night to myself, I was, when I heard glass shatter from the other room. Lo and behold, I find one of these Riddler clowns climbing through the window.”

“Sixty floors off the ground? How’d he even make it?” Your voice is riddled with wonder. Climbing gear attached to the corpse- body shows a considerable effort. You notice as well, after a moment of disbelief, that there’s a barely concealed handgun sticking out of Alfred’s waistband. In all your time living here, you’d never seen a weapon like that in the Wayne household. Bruce’s hatred of guns had made sure of that. “Did you shoot him, Alfred?”

Bruce tenses up too, then bristles when he sees what you’re looking at. Alfred even looks a little sheepish and drops the body altogether to hide it. “You shot him?”

Alfred gulps, “Yes... with a rubber bullet, not a real one.”

“And you do that often? Shoot people?”

“Of course not, Bruce.”

“So you just happened to have a gun on you-”

“Someone was breaking in!”

“-while you were making tea-”

“And the gun is not real.”

“-I can’t imagine what else you’ve got hidden away in this house. What, am I going to find a grenade in the coffee grinder tomorrow morning?”

You inch yourself closer to the incapacitated man on the ground, the bridge of his clear frames caved in on themselves. You can see a worrisome bruise between his eyes. Just to be safe, you check the man’s pulse to confirm that Alfred really hadn’t killed him. Sure enough, he hadn’t lied, but brain damage wasn’t entirely off the table yet.

Alfred scoffs, folding his arms over his ruffled vest, “I don’t use bloody grenades. And I haven’t shot a real bullet in years! Most of the guns I own are entirely non-lethal.”

“Most? How many do you have?” Bruce accuses.

A moment passes. “You’ll never find them all.”

The bickering continues at an even louder volume after that. Bruce is furious that Alfred never told him about the guns and Alfred, the military-bred man that he is, was struggling hard not to just say that he was a grown man who could do what he wanted and be done with it.

As (oddly) endearing as it was to see the father and son bickering, you couldn’t let Alfred get in trouble on your watch.

“Um, Bruce,” you interject, catching both of the men’s attention, “to be fair to Alfred, this guy was carrying a real gun with real bullets. If Alfred didn’t have his weapon, this could’ve gone way worse. He saved the day.”

Alfred, as smug as an English gentleman could be, turned his attention back to Bruce.

The news had slowly but surely sobered Bruce up. One more look at the goon on the floor had dried up all the frustration, leaving him thoroughly exhausted, “...he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“The shattered window is unfortunate, but I can call the repairmen in the morning. I trust you two have nothing as exciting to report.” A shared look between yourself and Bruce has Alfred nodding, discussion supposedly ended. “Very well. Then I shall retire for the night. Unless you’d like to raid my belongings for suspiciously sharp pencils... Master Bruce?”

All the fire in him had been extinguished. Bruce shakes his head and Alfred makes his leave, “What about the guy?” He yells after the retreating butler.

Alfred’s bedroom door shuts shortly after. It appeared date night had officially come to a close.

Bruce had been vehemently against a police detail for himself. It was you and Alfred that really needed it, he’d insisted, but Lieutenant Gordon had a brain that worked like anyone else’s and understood that the man with the hit on him needed it most. And so, much to his chagrin, he’d been hunkered down in Wayne Tower for the last few days, sneaking out as the Bat only when absolutely sure he wouldn’t get caught.

As his future spouse-to-be, you were the one who had to cover for him. But sometimes, no amount of lying could account for his missing presence in the penthouse, and so the Bat had to be put on the back burner until further notice... and it was driving him insane.

The police were in the kitchen, in his study, outside your shared bedroom, and on every floor of Wayne Tower. The media was still abuzz of the latest failed assassination attempt. There were too many eyes on him, it was making him itch.

That’s why, on the rare occasion that you could both pull it off, you helped him into the terminus elevator, helped hide his hair beneath his hat and hood, and sent him off on his bike before any one could question where you and Bruce had gotten off to. Pre-newlywed stuff. It was the honeymoon before the honeymoon, Alfred had joked once.

And of course, the one time you could get him out of the house successfully, he gets kidnapped.

It’s embarrassing standing next to Alfred as the police detail watches the news feed on the living room TV. Bruce was tied to a chair in the middle of the frame, three goons including the cameraman huddled around him and attempting to get a rise out of him. Threats that he’d heard a thousand times over had become stale at this point. Left out too long. If you weren’t so ashamed that you’d unwittingly helped him get kidnapped again, you’d be laughing at the unimpressed look he was giving the camera.

The bright side was that one, they seemed to not have found his suit and two, the goons had dwindled even more in number. Perhaps they were finally giving up?

“Citizens of Gotham, Bruce Wayne has been a hard man to get in touch with. But that doesn’t matter: the Riddler’s righteous justice will be delivered this day!” The cameraman declares, poking Bruce’s chest with a baton. Bruce barely moves. The cameraman sounds as put off by this as you feel, “Uh... any last words, Wayne?”

One of the officers is furiously working with a dispatcher to locate where the video is broadcasting from. Another in the corner is snickering behind her coffee cup. You’re not sure why you relate to them both.

Your future husband looks so done with the situation that you’re reassured he’s in no real danger, but you can’t fathom why he let himself get caught if that was the case. Surely, he would’ve taken them out just fine on his own. There were only three of them.

Another goon nudges his head with the barrel of his gun, yet Bruce does not flinch, “Speak up! The world is watching!”

Wordlessly, Bruce shifts in his seat once, twice, and brings his once bound hands to his front completely freed. You swore you heard a collective gasp across the nation.

The men in the room with Bruce look just as shocked as he reaches for the gun aiming (wobbling) at his head and gently covers the barrel of it with his palm, weaseling it out of the goon’s hand. The magazine falls to the floor shortly after and the gun is discarded across the room. When Bruce approaches the cameraman, the camera jerks back.

The phone is yanked away by Bruce. Before the live shuts off, you hear him speak for the first and only time since the broadcast started, “This is getting embarrassing.”

An uneasy quiet settles over the room after that. When Bruce comes home later that evening, escorted in a cop car, he looks absolutely pitiful. Your open arms are more than appreciated.

It’s been a long few weeks.

Wayne Enterprises was in a tizzy trying to get media under control. First the police, then the paparazzi, and now it felt like he’d gone from slipping from place to place unnoticed to being the talk of the town. It had made being Batman significantly harder, but it had also made him significantly more irritable.

Between you and... well, you, the only thing keeping him sane was currently asleep upstairs. After the last kidnapping debacle, it seemed that all the Riddler’s followers had been scared off, so at the very least, the police presence had dwindled down to a select few. He’d been given the go-ahead to take his own trash out, even. Promised he just needed some fresh air. A few hundred dollars thrown the night guard’s way and he was standing out in the cold at the back of Wayne Tower, in just a “I survived my trip to Gotham!” t-shirt and a pair of boxers, holding a trash bag.

The one Riddler clone standing across from him almost looks too afraid to stumble out of the shadows and recite their spiel. He’d be too tired to listen, anyway.

“Go home,” Bruce grumbles, tossing the bag into the dumpster, making no effort to try to appear like more of a threat than he really was. He didn’t even have mace on him, “I won’t even mention it.”

The stalker waits in the shadows for a few beats, practically shaking, unsure of himself. Bruce stares, unblinking. At the very least, if he took too long coming back up, they’d probably send someone down to check on him. This guy had a chance to get at least one shot off if he wanted. Bruce had survived three at one time, once.

After the world’s most unimpressive standoff, the goon turns around and starts walking home.

It’s been a long few weeks.

taglist: @yikes-buddy​ @alexxavicry​ @moonlightreader649​

[jesuispatrick]

more than words can say - Batman x reader

Summary: your a valuable member of the league and someone accuses you of being a traitor.

word count: 2.2k

author's note: I have decide to go in a complete different direction and write for batman. I will also be writing for other DC characters too such as night wing. I have no clue if there is still a community for these fanfics so please let me know if you like it :)

────────── ⋆✩⋆ ─────────

As a member of the Justice League, I felt an immense sense of pride and accomplishment. I had spent years training to perfect my powers and become an integral part of the team. My unique abilities allowed me to control the elements of water, fire, earth, and air, giving me a versatility that was unmatched by most.

I had first discovered my powers as a child, and with the help of my parents, who were also gifted with extraordinary abilities, I learned to control them. As I grew older, I honed my skills through rigorous training and countless battles against evildoers who threatened the safety of innocent people.

My reputation as a formidable superhero eventually caught the attention of the Justice League, and they extended an invitation for me to join their ranks. It was a dream come true, and I was determined to prove myself as a valuable member of the team.

I took a seat at the long table in the conference room of the Watchtower, the Justice League's orbital headquarters. The room was spacious and dimly lit, with large windows that offered a stunning view of the Earth below. The table was made of sleek, black marble and was surrounded by high-tech chairs that seemed to conform to the body of whoever sat in them.

Superman stood at the head of the table, his broad shoulders tense with worry. His usually warm smile was replaced with a grave expression, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the faces of each member of the League with a sense of urgency.

The Watchtower hummed with the sound of the powerful engines that kept it aloft, and the only other noise in the room was the soft beeping of the high-tech equipment that surrounded us. The sense of gravity and importance was palpable in the air as Superman began to speak.

Superman stood at the head of the table, his expression serious. ‘We've discovered a traitor among us," he said, his voice carrying a weight of concern. "Someone on the inside has been leaking information to our enemies. We need to find out who it is before they do more damage."

A feeling of unease crept over me as I listened to Superman lay out the details of the mission. Green Lantern sat across from me, his cold stare adding to the tension in the room. I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into me. I was grateful for the opportunity to contribute to the mission, but the accusation that someone among us was a traitor left me on edge. The sudden tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel Hal’s mistrust directed towards me.

"As the meeting came to an end, Hal wasted no time in confronting me. "You're the one we should be watching," he said, his voice dripping with suspicion. "I don't trust you."

Hal’s words stung, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had always thought we were on the same team, fighting for the greater good. The idea that he saw me as a threat or a traitor was beyond comprehension.

"I can't believe you're accusing me of this," I said, my voice shaking with emotion. "I've dedicated my life to this cause, just like you."

But Green Lantern remained resolute, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at me. "You've always been a wildcard, with those elemental powers of yours. Who's to say you're not using them for your own gain?"

Before I could even begin to respond, Hal launched himself at me with a powerful construct of energy. My heart pounded as Green Lantern's fists crackled with green energy and he charged towards me. I braced myself, summoning my powers to control the elements of water, fire, earth, and air. We clashed, our powers colliding in a spectacular display of energy.

I sent a blast of water towards Lantern, but he deflected it with a shield of energy. He countered with a barrage of green energy beams, which I dodged by shifting the earth beneath my feet. The ground rumbled as I caused a fissure to open up between us, and Lantern jumped back to avoid falling in.

We circled each other, each looking for an opening to strike. I summoned a gust of wind to try and throw him off balance, but he countered with a construct of energy that knocked me off my feet. I tumbled backwards, but quickly regained my footing.

Hal charged at me again, this time with a construct of energy that resembled a giant fist. I summoned a wall of earth to block it, but the force of the impact sent me flying backwards. I landed hard on the ground, feeling the wind knocked out of me.

I struggled to get back up, but Green Lantern was on me in an instant. He grabbed me by the neck and lifted me off the ground, his eyes blazing with anger. "You think you can take me down?" he snarled.

With a surge of willpower, I summoned a fierce blaze of fire around my body, causing Green Lantern to release me in surprise. I took advantage of his momentary distraction to send a barrage of rocks hurtling towards him, however, before the lantern could deliver another blow to me Batman was the first to reach my side, shielding me from Green Lantern's attack.  

"Back off, Lantern," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "We're all on the same team here."

Lantern hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between me and Batman. I could see the doubt and confusion in his expression as he weighed his options. The tension in the room was thick and heavy, and everyone watched in anticipation, waiting for the next move.

Suddenly, a burst of green energy erupted from Green Lantern's ring, catching Batman off guard. The Dark Knight was sent flying across the room, crashing into the wall with a loud thud. I winced as I saw him hit the wall and immediately tried to run to his side, but Green Lantern blocked my path. "You're not going anywhere," he snarled, his ring glowing with a dangerous intensity.

But before he could make another move, a bolt of lightning struck him, sending him staggering backwards. The Flash appeared beside me, his hand crackling with electricity. He stood in front of me, ready to protect me from any further attacks.

"You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us," he said, his voice laced with determination.

With Hal momentarily stunned, I saw my chance to strike. I called upon the elements once more, sending a blast of fire towards him. The flames engulfed him, forcing him to the ground.

As he struggled to get back up, Wonder Woman lassoed him with her golden lasso, restraining him. He began to struggle against the bonds. "Wait...stop!" he yelled. "I didn't mean to betray the team. It wasn't my choice."

The members exchanged a look of confusion. "What are you talking about?" Superman demanded.

Green Lantern took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the heroes around him. "I was brainwashed," he explained. "Our enemies, they...they got to me. They made me do it."

The room was silent as everyone processed this information. Batman stepped forward, his expression hard. "Who did this to you?" he demanded.

Hal hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously between the heroes. "I don't know. They wore masks, and their voices were distorted. They...they said they had leverage over me, that they could hurt my family."

Superman placed a hand on Green Lantern's shoulder. "We'll help you, Hal,” he said, "We'll find out who did this to you and put a stop to it."

The rest of the Justice League nodded in agreement, their expressions determined. As they led Hal away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. While the revelation was shocking, it was a relief to know that one of our own hadn't turned against us willingly.

I stood up and winced when I tried to put pressure on my right leg. "Let's get you to the medic bay," Batman said, his voice calm but urgent. "You may have a sprain or a fracture. We need to make sure you're okay." 

Batman guided you through the hallways of the Watchtower, his grip firm but gentle. You leaned into him for support, grateful for his strength. As you limped along, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of comfort in his presence.

Arriving at the med bay, Batman helped me onto one of the beds and fetched a medical kit. As Batman continued to patch up my injuries in the med bay, he paused for a moment and looked into my eyes. "I need to tell you something," he said, his voice serious. "I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I just didn't know how."

I looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue.

"I care about you," he said, his voice low and intense. "More than I should. You have a way of getting under my skin, and I can't help but want to protect you at all costs."

My heart skipped a beat at his confession, realising the depth of his feelings for me. "Bats," I said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. "I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he said, his eyes fixed on mine. "Just know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what. I'll do anything to keep you safe."

Looking into his eyes through his mask, I leaned in and kissed him, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled be so I was flushed against his hard suit. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to pull him even closer if that was possible. 

Suddenly Bruce stopped and his head whipped up and he noticed a blur of red and yellow out of the corner of his eye. "Flash, what are you doing here?" he asked, his tone slightly annoyed.

I turned my head around and saw Flash stumble to a stop, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Whoa, sorry Bats," he said, grinning sheepishly. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything important."

I blushed, feeling embarrassed that we had been caught in a vulnerable moment. Batman turned to me, his expression softening. "It's all right," he said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "We can continue this later."

Flash's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Ooh, is there something going on between you two?" he teased, winking at me.

Batman shot him a stern look. "That's none of your business, Flash," he said firmly. "Now, do you have a reason for being here or are you just here to make bad jokes?"

Flash sobered up quickly, remembering the reason for his visit. "Right, sorry. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing after the fight." 

Batman nodded in acknowledgement. "We're both fine," he said, gesturing to me. "Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."

Flash grinned. "That's good to hear. Well, I'll leave you two to it. Catch you later, Bats."

After Flash left, Batman turned back to me and gave me a small smile. "Where were we?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

I smiled back at him, feeling a warmth spreading through my body at his words. "Right here," I replied, leaning in for another kiss.

As we kissed, I could feel the strength of his love for me in every touch, in every movement. It was as if we were the only two people in the world, completely focused on each other.

Eventually, we pulled away from each other, both breathing heavily. Batman rested his forehead against mine and looked deep into my eyes. "I meant what I said earlier," he said softly. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. You mean everything to me."

I smiled, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "And you mean everything to me," I replied, reaching up to touch his masked face. "I love you, Bruce."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling underneath the mask. "I love you too," he said, his voice full of emotion. "More than words can say."

We stood there, lost in each other's gaze, feeling as if we were the only two people in the world. For that moment, nothing else mattered but our love for each other.

[davidlcki]

christmas!battinson?! kissing under the mistletoe? snow fights in the garden? baking cookies? PLEASE

wayne manor christmas

I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH THANK YOU ANON THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! happy early holidays everyone! i hope you all enjoy, although my writing skills aren’t at 100% currently.

pairing: pattinson! bruce wayne/ reader

warnings: none :)

you woke up this morning with a start. bruce however was not ready to get up, moaning tiredly as you roll over on top of his sleeping figure.

“bruce! come on let’s get up!” you whisper shout as you card your fingers through his black hair. he opens one eye to peer down at you.

“what’s the occasion?” he asks sarcastically, his voice was low and hoarse from sleep. you roll your eyes and sit up, tugging him by his arm until he unwillingly stands up. once he was on his feet and you smothered him with kisses, he began to perk up and even show you one of his rare smiles. what made this morning better was the snow that was steadily falling outside. it was christmas morning and you were too eager to head downstairs and exchange presents with bruce.

“here’s yours my good sir” you hand the present to him gracefully and watch eagerly as he rips off the wrapping. his eyes visibly light up as he observes your gift to him. it was an expensive watch that he had been eyeing for MONTHS but never got around to buying.

“my watch! i love it, thank you honey” bruce kisses your lips gently and you could feel him smile against you. “here, open yours”

you open the present quickly, too excited to see what lies inside. once pulling the box open, you were met with the most beautiful necklace you’d ever seen. he knew your taste perfectly. you were too afraid to ask how much it cost.

“bruce! it’s beautiful, thank you!” you nearly knock him backwards as you throw your arms around him and kiss him all over for the second time that day. the two of you spent another hour, talking and opening your smaller gifts for each other. before deciding to bake cookies for the christmas party you were hosting tonight.

“do we really have to host the party?” bruce asks, to which alfred gives a glare.

“yes, master wayne. it would be good for you to connect with some old friends, don’t you think?”

“plus we can show off our christmas decorations” you give an encouraging smile and pull out the christmas cookie ingredients.

baking took a lot longer than it should have. you were either throwing flour at each other, or shielding the raw dough from bruce who would have eaten it all if you let him. but alas, you eventually got the cookies baking in the oven.

“mission accomplished!” you high five bruce, which creates a cloud of flour. bruce had white handprints all over his clothes, and on his nose and cheeks.

“you got a little something” you point at your own nose, and bruce gives you a scowl.

“really? i didn’t notice” he throws sarcasm at you, and sticks his hand into the pile of flour on the counter. before you could react, he had rubbed it all down your face and shirt.

“oh my god!” you smack his hands away and gasp with shock, although a smile was tugging at your lips.

the two of you ended up showering while the cookies baked, and by the time you were finished getting ready, people were arriving for the party. you and bruce were in ugly christmas sweaters that you insisted would be cute to wear as you greeted guests that arrived. you enjoyed catching up with old friends, and even though bruce wasn’t enthusiastic, you could tell he enjoyed the socializing at least a little bit.

you both had an overwhelming feeling of normalcy, not having to worry about crime in the city as much, it seemed batman’s presence had really made it die down. it felt good to be able to breathe, and have something as normal as a party.

an hour in, the two of you were socially drained. you stood off under a wide doorframe, lost in a conversation that you didn’t have to force out like around guests. suddenly, bruce looks up. furrowing your brows, you follow his gaze and notice a mistletoe hanging above the two of you. you look back at him, giving him that ‘really?’ stare, along with a playful smile.

“did you plan this?” you cock your head to the side, bruce copies your head tilt and steps closer to you.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about” he shrugs and places a hand on your waist. his other hand gracefully balanced a wine glass. you on the other hand, nearly spilled your drink down his back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you connected your lips with his, the kiss was passionate, a kiss reserved for when it’s just you and him (how convenient that the mistletoe is just out of the party’s eye?). no matter how long you’ve known bruce, every kiss felt like the first with him. the sparks never fade, but only grow stronger. hell, you felt like a highschooler.

the party flew by quickly with the help of being tipsy, and when you gave your farewells to all the guests you noticed the snow outside. the light from the moon bounced off of the powdery substance and you guessed there was maybe 2-3 feet of snow now. you gave bruce the look, and he immediately shook his head no.

“please!!” you clasp your hands together and show puppy eyes in a silent beg, and bruce quickly gives in.

in an instant you were in your winter clothes and out into the night, trudging through the snow filled garden with a childlike wonder in your eyes. you turned to bruce to speak to him, but were instantly met with a snowball to the shoulder. you gasp in fake shock, and you suddenly felt like you were in a gunslinger stand off. the two of you made eye contact, waiting to see who would make the first move. quickly, you run behind a bush and begin to create snowballs that you hurled at bruce. you managed to dodge (most of) them, but when you popped up from your bush again, you noticed he was gone. carefully, you creep through the garden, armed with two snowballs.

“bruuuuuuceeeee” you sing out teasingly, tossing the snowball up and down in your gloved hand. before you could even react, bruce pops out from behind a tree and charges at you. you manage to throw one snowball before he gets to you, and sends the two of you crashing to the ground. you let out a scream, followed by laughter from the both of you. you take a breath to calm down, but fall into a fit again at the sight of bruce’s face absolutely covered in snow.

“oh that’s funny?” he teases, grabbing your face and shaking the snow off of him onto you.

“hey, hey!!!” you grab his own face to stop him, the two of you were now dripping with melted snow. you kiss one of the snowflakes off of his cheek near the corner of his mouth, and when you pull back he catches you in another kiss on the lips. you smile against him and kiss back eagerly.

“can we go back inside now?” bruce’s voice was shaking slightly as he smiled at you, and it made you aware of how cold you were yourself.

“good idea”

[achluos]

babs study

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

The manor is cold, silent as a tomb, and for once, it feels like a fitting home. You lie still on the bed, too small and fragile in the heavy, towering room. They all gather around you, each staring in shock, faces pale, breaths shallow—as if hoping that, by holding their breath, they might somehow trade their own life to coax warmth back into your cold form.

Bruce’s hand hovers over you, hesitant. His calloused fingers, so accustomed to war and violence, seem clumsy when they brush against your cheek. He trembles, silent, fighting against the whirlwind in his chest, his stoic mask cracked beyond repair. “I promised to keep you safe,” he whispers, his voice breaking in a way none of them have ever heard before. “I promised… and I failed you.” His hand, heavy with the weight of every failure, drops to his side, useless.

Dick’s hands cover his mouth, choking on a sob that won’t stay hidden. He’s the eldest, the one who was supposed to know better, to set the example. But he looks at you now, his eyes red and raw, remembering each time he walked past you, too busy laughing with others to notice you slipping away. “Why didn’t I tell you…?” he whispers, agony etched across his face. “Why didn’t I show you that you were loved?” The words fall into the silence, lost, and he knows you’ll never hear them now.

Jason kneels beside the bed, clutching your lifeless hand in his, as if he can pull you back with sheer force. His shoulders shake, his body radiating rage, despair, regret. His lips tremble as he remembers the countless times he shrugged off your gaze, ignored the quiet plea in your eyes. He thought he was sparing you from his darkness, protecting you from the world. But now he sees it for what it was—neglect, cold and unkind. He bows his head, the unbreakable Red Hood shattered, silent tears falling onto your still fingers.

Tim stands back, his face white, hands trembling as he presses his fists to his sides. The detective, the genius, who noticed everything—except you. He let the days slip by, assuming there’d always be more time, that you’d understand he was busy, preoccupied with saving the world. But now, as he watches the life drained from you, he feels a pang in his chest sharp enough to cut through bone. “I should’ve been there,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “I should’ve been a brother to you…” He stares at you, eyes rimmed with despair, the guilt hollowing him out from within.

Damian’s usual steel has melted into something unrecognizable. He doesn’t know how to touch you, where to place his hands, and the hesitation makes him feel powerless in a way he’s never known. He’d prided himself on being stronger, colder, above such weakness—but now, faced with your absence, he finds himself wishing he’d let you in, softened just a little. “You… you weren’t supposed to…” He can’t even finish, his words broken. He reaches out, almost unwilling, to touch your hand, flinching when it’s cold. His lips press into a thin line as he tries to hold back tears, but they fall, betraying the ache he’d been too proud to acknowledge.

They stay by your side, each of them reliving every lost opportunity, every moment they could have held you close and didn’t. Days pass, blurred, and they linger in the same room, surrounded by memories of what should have been.

When Alfred brings them food, they push it away. They can’t bear the thought of comfort while you lie there, untouched by life. They whisper to you, sometimes out loud, promising things they can’t ever deliver: "We'll make it up to you…we’ll fix this." But no voice answers back.

Driven by desperation, Bruce turns to ancient books, rumors, magic, anything that offers a hint of hope. He works night after night, chasing the impossible. The others follow him, each digging into their own corners of madness, driven by the need to correct what they destroyed. But every ritual fails, every lead falls cold. And the bitter truth gnaws deeper: there is no cure for regret, no resurrection from guilt.

The night finally falls silent, and they’re left alone with you, as if the universe itself mourns. Each of them curls beside you, their heads on the bed, hands on your arm, your hand, your chest, wherever they can cling to you, trying to pretend for one last moment that you’re still there. They hold on, eyes shut, whispering prayers to a god who’s deaf to their pain.

When morning breaks, none of them rise. They stay beside you, unwilling to face a world that doesn’t have you in it. They’ve lost you, their last chance to be the family they should have been, and they know now they’ll never be whole.

(A/n: no one asked and I also didn't but INSPIRED BY DIS IDEA FROM @steor-ra ILY BESTFRIEND BUT PLEASE UPDATE 💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩)

[fandomfuntimem]

"There are more of us than you think"

The ghost boy floated infront on Batman. All he wanted was to offer this kid some help. He has been deffending this town for a little over two years now with no help. So Batman just thought offering some training and other teen heros to help would be nice. But all he was met with was a cold hard stare. It wasn't a lookxof hatred, or anger, just disappointment.

"What?" He asked. For once in his life he didn't get it. What did he mean? 'There are more of us' more half ghosts like him? Multiples of him?

"What I mean Batman, is there are far more teen heros than you think. There are so many kids who were left to deffend their homes by themselves. I'm in contact with plenty of people like me. I don't need your charity work. We dont need it," Phantom took a deap breth, "so many kids had to save the world while the Justice League sat back and did nothing. Ben Tennyson has been saving the world since he was ten, a child soldier and the only effective weapon the Plumbers have. The Ninja over in Norrisville was given his powers at fourteen. Max Steel was fused with an alien and born with nuclear levels of power. The list goes on bats. Kim Possible, Jenny, Generator Rex, Zak Saturday. We all did just fine without you and your League."

Batman was speechless. That many? That many kids left to deffend their homes? Phantom obviously seemed to have contact with them, maybe they help eachother out, but still. How did the Justice League not know?

Phantom disappeared and left Batman to ponder his words alone. How many world ending events did thease kids fight? How many of them did they fight alone? How much help did each of them have? Phantom only has a niche group of allies, how small are their support groups?

He'll have to research this when he returns to the bat cave. Hopefully he can get all thease kids get the help they need. Set up Zeta Tubes in their cities, and end this awful epidemic of teen heros.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

[morganbritton132]

Do you think that the people of Gotham are ever just trying to enjoy their day and then see one of the Waynes walk into the cafe they’re at or go to the movies at the same time as them, and think, “Great, my chances of being a part of a hostage situation has just been raised by 20-40%”

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Social Media AU: Y/n Wayne loves "Big Boy" Baseball

Other Social Media AU Big Boys:

STEVE ROGERS

CLARK KENT

[xmalereader]

Bruce Wayne x Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

REQUEST: Could you please write Burce wayne x male reader who has trouble ordering food. Like in a restaurant when the waiter asks, he either stutters or goes completely quiet, and that's why he asks Bruce to order for him. And i would like to see Bruce's reactions when a waiter is like "you don't have to order for him. He can order for himself. I wasn't asking you, i was asking him" just the waiter assuming that Bruce is kinda controlling. The reader is silently crying in his seat, having to order on his own, like he knows the waiter was trying to do something good. (Totally not speaking from personal experience 🤭)

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Fluff, mature language, social anxiety, Bruce is a good boyfriend, mentions of fears, judgment, request, relatable events, everyone struggles.

TAGS: @one-green-frog

WC: 1.5K

NOTES: I used to struggle with ordering food due to anxiety and fear of people judging me 😩 but as I got older they fear kind of went away and I’m able to do it with no problem but everyone deals with anxiety differently and takes time to get come it so I ain’t judging. It’s like that with my older brother he’s 26 and still makes me order for him due to his own anxiety. But hopefully you enjoyed this shot and apologize for the long wait!

Everyone has social anxiety.

Y/n struggled with it at a young age, not being taught how to speak with others in public without getting the intense fear of judgment from others. He figured that he would improve as he got older, but it didn’t change and still struggled with the simple things. He could go out and run errands alone without any struggles since majority of place now had self checkout which was a god send for many.

He’s able to hold a conversation with strangers or with people he knew in the area, but his anxiety would get to him when it came towards the simplest tasks. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was an over thinker and would think that he did something wrong or if he perhaps pronounced something incorrect, thinking that people were judging him for the smallest things. It took time for him to improve but the anxiety still remained during important moments.

One of the easiest things that many were able to accomplish is ordering food. Their were times that he hesitated or froze up when ordering his own food, having to apologize each time he orders and forcing a nervous smile or laugh in hopes of getting through the few minutes that he is there. He struggled even more when he went out on dates.

Very few people knew about his anxiety and very few friends were kind enough to do the ordering for him without hesitation and providing the assistance that he needed. With strangers it was a whole other story, he didn’t want to force them into placing his own order due to his own fear and would struggle with speaking the words.

His dates never went well after that and hated the way he felt each time he stumbled upon the problem. If the waiter or waitress wasn’t staring at him intensely he’d probably order his food without a problem and his day would go fine. But the feeling of their eyes staring at him as he looked at his choices of food made him stutter and grow nervous when ordering.

Forcing that smile as always and getting through the day of embarrassment.

If he had this kind of anxiety how was he suppose to handle his future dates when he couldn’t do a simple task? He’s able to do a whole presentation in a room full of board of directors but he stutters and hesitates when it comes towards ordering a simple meal or even asking for help whenever he’s in public.

He figured he’d spend his days locked indoors while making his own meals while watching a good movie.

He didn’t think he’d end up bagging Bruce Wayne. Gothams Golden boy.

Y/n had thought that this was all a trick or a joke when Bruce first asked him out. He wanted to laugh at the mans face and tell him that he doesn’t need to make his life miserable by playing a mean joke, only to realize that Bruce was in fact not joking around.

Y/n worked at Wayne Enterprises but in a lower department not expecting himself to bump into Bruce Wayne and getting asked out by the man himself. Their first date was simple with a cup of coffee and muffins. He would have thought that bruce would take him someplace fancy on their first date, but when he didn’t he was a bit relieved.

Bruce was a great man and didn’t do anything that made him uncomfortable. Y/n figured that he’d only get lucky to have one date with bruce and then never see them man again, only to get asked out again and again and again. The first four months went well without any problems and enjoyed his time with Bruce as their time together grew their dates slowly got fancier.

Resulting into Y/n confessing to Bruce about his anxiety and fear of others judging him because he couldn’t do a simple task that only required a few words. He thought Bruce would laugh at him or use it against him and force him to confront his fear, instead Bruce smiled at him and asked.

“Do you want me to order for you?”

He said it with the most calmest voice ever showing no hints of judgment.

Y/n wanted to cry that night. It was a simple favor, but it meant a lot to him.

As their dates continued they created a routine each time they went out to eat. Y/n would either look up the menu online ahead of time and already have his order in mind and tell bruce before getting their orders placed. Bruce even memorized the dishes that Y/n liked whenever they went to a repeated restaurant and would for him on the spot without needing to be told what he liked, already knowing the mans interests.

A year into dating and it became a normal thing between the two.

During their one year anniversary, Bruce decided to take him to a new restaurant and getting seated in a nice secluded area and away from others. Y/n scanned the menu and hums. “This looks good.” He speaks up as he checks the different dishes until one caught his eye.

“You know the rule, order whatever you want.” Said Bruce, always reminding him that he can get whatever he wanted. Y/n was hesitant about the prices at first but with time he got adjusted to the idea of Bruce paying for everything and no matter how many times he tried to pay himself, Bruce had already paid ahead of time.

“This pasta looks good.” Y/n points out on the menu and shows Bruce who looked up form his own menu and smiles. “Is that all you want?”

“Can I also get this for dessert?” He points behind the menu where a picture of a nicely desert is presented, getting Bruce to chuckle as he nods his head. “You better share with me because I already know you won’t eat it all.” Y/n laughs at his words and sets his menu down, leaning back in his seat as he looks around the restaurant and takes in the interior, distracted by the place that he doesn’t notice the waitress coming over.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Bruce smiles at the women and starts with his order first, letting her know what he’d like. “And for you?” She turns her attention to Y/n who gets his attention pulled away from a painting he was staring at and looks at her with wide eyes. “I…”

“He’d have the pasta and the chocolate desert.” Bruce is quick to cut in when he noticed Y/n freeze up.

The waitress gives Bruce the stink eye by how he interrupts Y/n. “You don’t have to order for him. He can order for himself.” Bruce froze with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth in shock. “I wasn’t asking you I was asking him.” She points her pencil at Y/n and puts her attention on him.

Y/n can only gap at her, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to speak but I can’t. He was caught off guard and reached out for his menu. “I’ll like…the—the…” He’s stuttering and doesn’t know what to tell her. “Do you need another minute?” She asks which only make the situation worse, he’s turning to Bruce and staring at him with eyes full of fear and hesitation silently screaming for help.

“I assure you miss my partner would like the pasta and desert.” Bruce says again in hopes of getting her to note down the order and she does, not without rolling her eyes which only makes Y/n whine.

“Your food will be ready soon.” She said while taking their menus and walking away, leaving them in silence.

Y/n lets out a deep sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say, she probably thinks you’re an asshole now.” He groans out while covering his face with his hands. Bruce can only chuckle while shaking his head and reaching out to grab him by the wrists. “Don’t be, not everyone knows about your fear and besides she was only doing it because she probably thought I was controlling.”

“You’re not!”

“She doesn’t know that. If I wanted to be asshole I would have yelled at her like other people do, but I’m not doing that. It was a simple misunderstanding.” Bruce reassured Y/n as he held his hand and smiles. He didn’t think that something like this would happen since they’ve never had this issue in the past at the other places that they visited.

“All you have to worry about is eating all of your food and sharing your desert.” Bruce tries to lighten up the mood which works for Y/n as he chuckled and nods his head. “Fine and then after we go home and watch a movie and not come back here again.” After this misunderstanding its most likely he doesn’t want to come back and face the same issue again.

“We stick with Jimmy’s…” He mumbled out, referring to his favorite restaurant that serviced amazing chicken wings and fries. Bruce laughs while nodding. “Next time we go out will go to Jimmy’s.” At this point they were already considered regulars that the owner memorized their orders, which made it better for Y/n.

[devilfic]

Don’t know if you are taking requests but maybe battinson and reader doing their mbti test, and reader getting a villain personality.

lmfao

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: implied sexual content but no body parts mentioned. words: 894.

a/n: gratuitous amount of italics here. not sorry. implied sub!bruce but that's not what this is about. also, anon, guess who ELSE has a villain personality type according to google :)

who's gonna tell him

You probably know he’s not really listening. With the wrench between his teeth, fingers straining to reach into the void of his engine and find where the Batmobile had gone unresponsive, he’s only half present. Maybe a third at best. Still, he enunciates through the metal, already forgetting what you'd called him, “INT...C? What does that mean?”

“I-N-T-J. You’re the architect. It means you’re introverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging. You’re good at problem solving and detective work, of course. But you struggle emotionally and are prone to being… ‘socially clueless’.” From your spot in the driver’s seat, Bruce makes a show of leaning around the propped up hood just to be clear on how much he disapproves. He even removes the wrench with his oil-slick hand so he can frown properly. “I didn’t write this, babe. Don’t look at me.”

“You’re reading it to me.”

“I just wanted to know if we’d be compatible!”

He huffs, having found what ever kink in the machine he was looking for and focusing on that instead. He disappears behind the hood but his voice carries through the terminus loud and clear, “Well, are we?”

You decide to do some research.

Somewhere between Bruce triumphing over the engine and coming around to the window to gloat, he catches you staring incredulously at your phone.

“What's the verdict? Are we sworn enemies?” Your eyes dart up to Bruce’s and the longer you stare at him, picking him apart in silence, the more his smile begins to fade. For a second, he starts to think you actually might be sworn enemies. For a millisecond, he starts to care.

"I took the test." You declare, voice freakishly even. Bruce isn't smiling anymore.

"And?"

"I got ENTJ."

"And?"

"We're compatible, sure, whatever," Bruce squints, confused, because you'd been more excited to know the answer to that than he was, "but then I fell down this rabbit hole—I wanted to see who we shared personalities with—and then I found this article. Guess what we are?"

You turn your phone to him. You've pulled up a web result for “Which MBTI personality types are villains?”. In the blurb at the very top, he reads INTJ. Then he looks over at you, your eyes wide and suspicious, and he’d ask you to stop giving him that look if it wasn’t for the way your mouth starts to curl up.

You’re not suspicious. You’re impish. “We’re both villains.”

Sure enough, the other most common villain personality type is ENTJ.

Bruce thinks it’s silly, a little less silly than when you’d done his natal chart (but he’d sat and asked questions all the same, a little too invested in the bits about his childhood karma) because the quiz at least knew something about him, but silly nonetheless.

But you’re also enjoying it enough that he leans into it, feels his own lips curling up too. He folds his arms on the door and leans inside the car, casting a dark shadow over you, "I have enough bad press as it is."

You giggle. You place a hand on his forearm and squeeze, "I don't know. I think you'd be pretty sexy as a villain."

Bruce watches you through hooded eyelids and considers, for a moment, that maybe you're a little too into this. He treads the waters, wondering whether you'll show your hand. He digs through his memory for what you'd called him, the other thing that had actually stuck, “The architect and…”

“The commander.” You finish, jutting your chin up with pride.

“Sounds about right.”

“I'll be the one in control, and you'll be my pretty little mastermind making everything happen.”

“Sounds sort of right.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’? You’re a slave to my every whim.”

“Oh, I'm your slave now?" Bruce drops an octave with intention, delighting in your fingernails biting into his muscles. "Since when?"

Your eyes fucking twinkle. You look so excited that he fleetingly wonders if he should keep an eye on you. And he imagines you’d enjoy having him bested, kneeling at your feet as you unmask him and lean in and grin and declare, victorious- “Haven’t you always been?”

Your breath on his lips hasn’t even cooled before he’s leaning into the car and craning your mouth up to meet his, a hand at your jaw and the other keeping him propped through the window.

He imagines too, just for fun, leaning into a getaway car to celebrate a job well done, before coming around the side to jet off into the sunset. A real Bonnie and Clyde.

He feels you tugging on his shoulders and leaning back into the driver’s seat, compelling him to follow. You almost drag him fully through the window (a feat that’s only possible because he’s basically putty in your hands right now), and he grips the center console to steady himself before he falls in and crushes you, “The car’s been fixed all of two minutes and you wanna defile it already?” Bruce accuses, not actually caring in the slightest.

You’re awful. Your eyes still twinkle beneath the innocent flutter of your eyelashes, clearly still on villains and evil plans and whatever images you’d conjured up in your brain after calling him your slave. What ever happened to not mixing business with pleasure? “Come on, Batman. Don't be such a prude."

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

I’m back in my NolanVerse era. No explanation required

Little Things | Bruce Wayne x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked:  OKAY MORE PROMPTS PLS DO NOT EXHAUST URSELF 

 "I don’t need your expertise right now, I just need… fuck, I just need you to be here" 

 all bruce wayne x m!reader 🥺🥺

summary: it’s nice to be reminded why you love Bruce. 

tws: mentions of injury, swearing

word count: 1008

You and Bruce had been dating for a long, long while, and although you could not remember what had originally brought you together, from time to time you had a feeling or two of what it was; certain moments that you had with him where you were nudged towards why you had become his boyfriend in the first place. Usually when he made you smile on days where such a thing really didn’t seem possible in the slightest; sometimes when he brought you a cup of coffee exactly the way you liked it even though you had not asked for one. The little, and usually mundane, things. 

Keep reading

[lovesick-joey]

Good Job.

"You really went on your own?"

Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.

"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."

Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"

Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."

"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."

As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billy—or anyone on the Justice League for that matter—pursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."

Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.

"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"

Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?

Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.

He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.

"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.

It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"

"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."

What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"

Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"

Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.

"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."

"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknesses—it doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."

Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."

Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."

The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?

Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.

"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"

"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciated—"

Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguing—he could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.

He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.

TGCS ¦ Mr. Hermit ‣ Dragon Eyes