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elena-mayfair · 2 years

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Will you help me?

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, horror, slow burn Warnings: rating T+/M, blood and gore, violence, strong language, themes of depression and suicide Summary: When in distress seek help from friends. But what if friends have proven to be untrustworthy? What if there is no one to turn to for help? How to establish new relationships? Sometimes all it takes is one simple question: will you help me? Word count: 8k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Chapter one: Bright future, dark city Chapter two: Curious people Chapter three: Madness and old friends Chapter four: I am innocent

***

"Do you like scars? Do scars make the man?," you hummed under your breath the lyrics of the song playing through the speakers as you stared in the mirror at the deep cut healing on your arm. Four stitches, seemingly not much and yet the scar would become a sure reminder of the day you almost drowned. After two weeks, the wound had almost healed, leaving a pale red thin line decorated with dots on the sides where the stitches had been just a few days ago. Two weeks were enough to heal the surface wounds. For the purple-green bruise that painfully scored your body to disappear almost completely, for the brown scab to fall off showing softly pink flesh, for the number of pain pills you took every day to decrease from eight to two. Two weeks, enough time to heal the wounds on your body, enough time to recover, enough time for rest and regeneration, time which you spent locked up in your apartment isolated from everyone…time not nearly enough to heal the wounds that were not visible at first glance.

"There are still good people in this world," you repeated each day as you replayed the events of that evening over and over again, trying to push them out of your mind. The indifferent look in the rearview mirror, the car speeding through the city, the cold metal touch on your forehead, the two wrecked cars, the creepy grin, the gunshots, the maniacal laughter…

Indifference…

"There are still good people in this world," you insisted, clenching your eyes as if that would somehow help push the images away. Black rapid water, screeching tires, impact, yanking, pain, cold, panic, water rising, horror…

Fear…

"There are still good people in this world," you repeated once again, forcefully pushing away the recurring images. There was Lucius Fox, who, in a compassionate and understanding email, assured you that all medical expenses were covered by insurance provided by the company. Lucius Fox, who assured you that you don't have to worry about your job or your place in the company, and you are to take as much sick leave as necessary. Lucius Fox, who personally signed a card wishing you a quick recovery that was attached to a small package delivered by a courier, containing a new phone. "'With wishes for a swift recovery, from the company,'" not many words and yet a faint smile appeared on your face.

"Yes…there are good people in the world…" such as your colleagues at work who, despite knowing each other for a relatively short time, sent you a sincere and kind message. Such as the policewoman who made sure you arrived home safely by escorting you to your door. Such as the paramedics who, seeing your fear and stubbornness in refusing to be taken to the hospital, showed great understanding and kindness in attending to your wounds at home. Such as the doctor who visited you twice at your home. Such as the Chinese food delivery guy who knocked on your door every other day…such as….

Kindness…a concerned look, a warm tone, a gentle assistance when your legs refused to obey you, a kind smile…Nightwing.

Hope…the light shining in the darkness of the water, the muffled explosion heralding rescue, the strong sure grip on your body, the life he took from his lips to give to you…Batman.

Support…the phone call answered in the middle of the night when you woke up from a nightmare drenched in sweat, the words of reassurance and comfort spoken each time when fear rose within you all over again, the understanding and empathy when you refused to recount your experiences in detail, the quiet empathy when he visited you at home time and again whenever you had no strength to go out…Jonathan Crane.

Over the past two weeks, Professor Crane proved to be your greatest support and your only contact with the outside world. The initial information about the car accident was enough to swap visits at his office for home visits. The suggestion came from him, he argued that if you felt up to it would be advisable not to interrupt the therapy process you had started. He explained that especially now, in a situation of increased stress, your mind becomes more susceptible to negative thoughts and feelings. Initially, you refused. The idea of having a psychiatrist come to your home, your safe place, your oasis of peace, seemed wrong. You only accepted the suggestion of sedative medication, which was delivered to your home. You appreciated the gesture and understanding, simply going to the pharmacy seemed like a mission for which you did not have the strength. However, this situation only lasted for two days. The night before day three, you woke up terrified in the middle of the night certain that the Joker had found you. That he was sitting in your living room, turning a gun in his hand, that as soon as you came out of your bedroom you would see him, that wide creepy smile, hear his maniacal laughter, feel the bullet piercing your body. "Hello toots!" he will say, "did you really think you would get away with it! HA!" he will snarl, "did you really think that you can drive a car off the road and be done with me?! HA HA HA HA HA!" he will laugh as a fired bullet will pierce your stomach.

Fright paralyzed you completely making you unable to move from the bed. Fright so sure of his presence. Horror fueled by the awareness of your complete loneliness, the absence of anyone you could call, anyone who could come, anyone you could turn to for help, you were alone. Not thinking much, you dialed the Professor's number, and to your surprise he answered. For an hour he talked to you on the phone, trying to calm you down and convince you to come out to the living room, but when that didn't help, he got in his car and drove to your home in the middle of the night.

***

~~Few days earlier~~

"You need to come to the door and open it," Professor Crane's voice echoed on the other side of the line, "I'm at the door."

"I can't…" you replied in a weak voice. Your heart pounded in your chest with each beat making it harder to breathe. Curled up against the bedroom wall, with your knees drawn to your chest, you stared at the door in horror, anxiously awaiting the moment when it would open to reveal the shiny gun metal.

"You have to…" Crane replied.

"He's there…" you whispered, "if I open the door… he is there… he will kill me…"

"Y/N think about it," Crane said in a calm controlled tone, "I know you are terrified. You are experiencing a panic attack. Your body is probably shaking, your pulse is accelerated, cold sweat is covering your skin," he listed the symptoms, "You are having a panic attack."

"But Joker…"

"Think," he interrupted you, "I know it's difficult at the moment but think for a second. If the Joker was actually in your apartment, would he wait for you to come out of your bedroom? If you didn't wake up, would he wait until morning? If he was really in your apartment, would he wait and risk you calling 911?"

"He could…"

"Y/N!" Crane raised his voice, "Do you think he wouldn't have heard our conversation through the door? Do you think if he heard it he wouldn't react?"

"He's insane…"

"Y/N open the door."

"I can't."

"Get up and open the door."

"I'm afraid…"

"Y/N!"

"I'm sorry…"

"Open the fucking door!" he shouted commandingly. It worked.

With your legs shaking, you slowly got up from the bed and cautiously opened the bedroom door, carefully looking out first, ready to close them immediately. The living room was empty, exactly as you had left it the previous evening. There was no sign of anyone's presence. No shoe marks on the floor, no furniture moved, no smell, no Joker.

"Y/N, are you there?" you heard on the phone which you still held tightly to your ear. You didn't answer, instead you headed for the front door behind which Crane was waiting.

"There's no one here…" you whispered in a weak voice, opening the door wide and looking at the Professor. He stood there, wearing a dark brown coat, looking at you intently. He, too, was pressing the phone to his ear. "There's no one here…" you repeated while your body shook again.

"Can I come in?"

You moved away from the door letting him in.

"It was all so real…" you tried to explain weakly. You leaned against the door and slid slowly to the floor. Adrenaline was leaving your body like air through a punctured balloon. "I, I was sure, I was convinced that he was here."

"The mind can be very decieving…" Crane looked around the apartment as if despite everything he wanted to make sure you were alone. He checked the other rooms, the bedroom, the bathroom, and for a moment even looked out the window, simultaneously making sure it was closed.

"I couldn't imagine it…" you argued in a half whisper, "it was too real."

"Traumatic experiences can trigger in a person anxiety levels so strong that imagination can seem real," Crane explained. He squatted in front of you and his green eyes looked straight into yours, "are you hurt?" he asked, "can you stand up?"

"I think so…" you nodded uncertainly then, grasping Crane's outstretched hand, you got up on your feet.

"Alright…" belaying you, Crane walked you over to the couch, turned on the soft lamp light, then sat down across from you and once again began to pierce you with his gaze, "Then now tell me, why would the Joker want to kill you? What exactly happened two weeks ago?"

And so you did. Two cups of tea and three hours later, Crane knew everything. Every little detail starting from the party at 44 Below, to your first encounter with Batman, to Joker's Arkham brakeout, ending up with Batman and Nightwing's rescuing you after you drove the car of the road. Every single feeling, every single thought, every single fear, fascination, emotion, thought. Every most trivial detail. You hid nothing, for the first time you were completely honest with him. With a flow of words, you poured out everything that was sitting inside you, and you had to admit that you felt damn good about it. Crane only listened. Sitting comfortably on the couch next to you, sipping tea, he did not interrupt, did not comment, only listened without taking his penetrating eyes off you.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked when you finished the story.

"Good," you replied without hesitation, "really good…" you added at the sight of a smile on Crane's face, "but I'm afraid this intervention is going to tug hard on my wallet."

"Don't worry about that now. We're finally talking honestly, you finally lowered your guard enough to open up to me. Don't bother with trivial matters now."

"I needed this, I'll admit it. I needed to get it off my chest, and let's be honest, I don't have anyone to talk to. We've already established that. And the only person I considered a friend….well…. let's just say that I wasn't wrong for not trusting people."

"And yet you trusted me."

"That's different. My emotional exhibitionism is driven by pure selfishness and the need to throw out negative emotions. After what happened today, you might as well be a pizza delivery guy," you quipped.

"Would you also call a pizza delivery guy in the middle of the night paralyzed with fear?" he smirked.

"I guess not," you chuckled, "why did you come?"

"It's not unusual for a psychotherapist to respond to a crisis situation, even in the middle of the night," even though his words sounded serious and professional something completely different shone in his eyes. A mystery, a dangerous gleam, betraying something contrary to the spoken words.

"Thank you," you looked confidently into the cryptic green, "I didn't know what to do. I was afraid. You were…" you hesitated, "you were the first person I thought of," you lied hiding your embarrassment in your tea cup. He wasn't. But the person you thought of was not someone you could call in the middle of the night, even if you had the possibility to do so. "Why did I thought of him…." you rebuked yourself in your mind.

"Something is bothering you," Crane noticed.

"Many things bother me," you replied evasively.

"I thought we were over word games…"

"Because we are," you sighed in resignation, "forgive me. I guess that's my habit."

"If you want we can go back to standard questions like 'how do you feel about it', 'do you want to talk about it'," he smiled mischievously.

"No, thank you!" you denied immediately, "you don't even realize how annoying these questions are."

"So talk."

You took another sip of tea and gazed at the full moon rising against the black sky. A moon that involuntarily made you think of the Batman signal lighting up the night sky. The symbol of the Dark Knight, the protector of Gotham. The symbol of hope that there is someone in this world who cares.

"For the last two weeks I've been cooped up at home and I've been doing some reading…" you began, still staring at the sky outside the window, "colleagues recently joked that I have little chance of ever finding myself in the middle of a fight between Batman and Gotham's psychos. And yet here we are."

"Wrong place, wrong time."

"Possibly," you replied quietly, "But with spare time on my hands and a million questions in my head, for the past two weeks I've done nothing but read newspapers, archived posts, blogs, forums. How is it possible that I have never heard anything about this before?!" you threw a frustrated question, angrily looking into the green gleam, "how the fuck is that possible that I never ever heard anything about Batman, Nightwing, Robin, Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow?! How?! It seems like it is fairly common knowledge! It seems that every big city has its own Batman! So tell me Professor, how come I never heard any of it?!" Crane answered nothing, clearly taken aback by your question, "Like dude can fucking fly! And it seems like this is the first time I ever heard about it!"

"I think you already have the answer to this rhetorical question," Crane stated.

"Something is missing…" you sighed heavily, "something is not right with me…" you tapped angrily with your finger on the side of your forehead, "something is not right in my head. I feel like I should know these things, and yet I don't. I feel like I'm missing part of my mind. Like there are gaps in there, missing pieces which I cannot find," your gaze met his again and hung on for longer than was polite, "Will you help me? Will you help me find the missing pieces?"

"I will," he replied without a moment's hesitation, "but it will require a different approach. If it is indeed as you think, if indeed some parts of your mind are blocked, it will not be enough to simply talk it through. I will expect you to be completely honest and trusting."

"I can do that."

"Good. Let's start from changing the dynamic of our relationship," he scooted closer to you, set his tea cup down on the table then extended his hand to you, "Jonathan," he smiled anticipating your reaction.

You only shook his hand with a smile on your face and relief in your heart certain that you did the right thing by telling him about your worries. Confident that you could count on his help.

***

"Hey isn't that the girl we rescued last time?!" Dick Grayson asked at the sight of the photo and personal file displayed on the Batcomputer screen. Dressed in sweatpants and a tight tank top with a towel hung around his neck and a water bottle in his hand, he was rubbing sweat from his forehead after intense training. His younger foster brother followed him closely step by step, exhaustion painting on his face. Tim was eager to work, to train, to improve his skills, and the years of practice Dick had had over him posed a satisfying challenge.

"The one who tried to drown Joker?" Tim asked standing behind Bruce's chair.

"Yup, the one!" Dick replied, "She got some fight in here! She would rather drove care of the road into the bay than get the Joker to his destination! That's impressive!"

"Is she a friend or foe?!" Tim inquired.

"I don't know yet," Bruce replied without taking his eyes off the monitor, "She works for me."

"What?!"

"How come?!"

"She works at Wayne Tech, we hired her less than two months ago," Bruce replied in a poised voice upon hearing their simultaneous question, "I've had the opportunity to talk to her a few times."

"And?"

"And I can't tell if she's really an innocent victim of circumstance or just a good con artist."

"Do you want me to keep an eye on her?" Tim asked, "I could keep tabs on her for a while, see where she goes, who she hangs out with, what she does after work."

"No, Tim," Bruce refused immediately, "if she is indeed a crook sooner or later she will reappear under not very favorable circumstances and then we will have grounds to be suspicious of her. For the time being, we must assume that she is innocent, as she claims. Besides, as Bruce Wayne, I will have the opportunity to keep an eye on her every day. And as Batman… I want to take on this case personally."

"But…" Dick tried to object yet Bruce didn't give him a chance.

"We have more important things to deal with," Bruce interrupted him by minimizing Y/N's photo, "another victim. Marc Phillips, age forty-five, pilot," a photo of a middle-aged brunet appeared on the computer screen.

"The pilot of the avionette from which the newlyweds jumped," Dick stated, quickly tracing with his eyes over the text on the screen.

"That's right," Bruce confirmed, "After the incident he was under the psychological observation by Professor Jonathan Crane, he stayed in the psychiatric ward of Elliot Memorial Hospital, from which he was released two days ago."

"What happened?" Tim asked unable to find an answer on the screen.

"He hung himself."

Silence fell in the cave as all three began to analyze the facts and the cause-and-effect sequence in their minds. Each of them knew that there was an element of strangeness in the previous victims, an element of the unusual and untold that connected them all. Suicide by hanging had nothing inexplicable about it.

"It doesn't make any sense," Dick began, "I mean it makes sense, but at the same time it doesn't make sense. Oh you know what I mean!"

"It doesn't fit the residual pattern we've had so far," Tim joined in, "the guy hung himself. There's a cause and a reason."

"I want you to inspect his apartment," Bruce informed, finally getting up from the computer and looking at them, " inspect his apartment, talk to the Elliot Memorial staff, and most importantly Professor Crane. His file is perfectly clean, which doesn't change the fact that we can't exclude him from the suspects list."

"What about you?"

"I have an interrogation to attend to."

***

Gotham by day was not much different from Gotham during the night. Thick rain clouds usually hung over the city effectively blocking the sun shrouding the city in a damp sheen. The wet streets and buildings reflected the city lights dressing the city in a veil of mysticism and secrecy. Walking through the city you didn't feel overwhelmed, quite the opposite. Despite the thick clouds in the sky, the brisk air from the bay allowed you to breathe fully, for the first time in weeks. For a moment you forgot where and for what purpose you were going, allowing yourself to once again admire the mysterious beauty of the city, marvel at the million lights and colors refracted in the droplets of water, gaze at the statues carved into the buildings' walls seemingly crying over the fate of the inhabitants, gargoyles lurking on the rooftops appearing to drool at the sight of their victims. The beauty and menace of the city seemed to clash with each other at every turn as if battling for dominance over the city and its citizens. Every alley seemed to hide a mystery, every street seemed to teem with secrets deeply hidden. Gotham was dangerous but also beautiful. For around the next corner, a frantic death could be waiting to herald the end of the adventure, or a laughing group of children in their innocence kicking a ball joyfully, a sign of goodness and purity that had to be protected.

Lost in thought, lost between delight and fear, you didn't notice when your feet led you to the First Gotham City Police District building. A building that was a perfect representation of the city itself. Modern style merged with age-old classics. The central part of the building wore the signs of the age, while the modern wings on the sides, although initially appearing incongruous with the rest, effectively brought the building into the 21st century. In the center of the tall clock tower a blue GCPD glowed, while gargoyles positioned on the sides seemed to keep a watchful eye on the surroundings.

The interior proved to be a perfect reflection of its exterior and an even more appropriate deepening of Gotham's atmosphere. Dark, stuffy, dusty, shrouded in a yellowish light that seemed too dim to meet health and safety requirements. Cigarette smoke lingered in the air ignoring more regulations and laws. On old-fashioned cluttered desks stood modern computers bearing the Wayne Tech logo bringing an element of modernity to the age-old interior. From an office nearby, raised voices could be heard indicating a confrontation behind closed doors. A little farther behind bars, several criminals were taunting the cops, doing their worst to provoke them. Someone reported a theft, someone else a missing person, another a beating. Fragments of conversations between police officers drew a picture of deep-rooted crime.

"I'm telling you Frank, Maroni will go to war with Falcone! It's only a matter of time!" said one.

"Don't even joke like that! We don't need a gang war now when the Joker has escaped from Arkham!" countered the other.

"He didn't escape, he got busted out."

"By two chicks! Can you imagine?"

"Yeah, trust me, I can," the man laughed rubbishly, "chick who has the balls to bust Joker out of the Asylum must have some imagination if you know what I mean."

"Damnn man, you are sick!"

You shuddered at their words as if something disgusting had touched your skin. "What a pig," you thought and headed for the reception desk behind which a young policewoman was drowning in paperwork.

"Excuse me," you snapped her out of her work, "My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I was supposed to report to the police station to provide a statement."

"Y/N Y/L/N," the policewoman lifted her gaze from above the documents and looked at you with a gentle smile, "yes, yes…Arkham case…" she said more to herself while searching the computer for information, "Commissioner Gordon is in his office waiting for you. Please follow me," she stated and gestured you deeper into the building.

The commissioner's office situated on a small rise in the central part of the police station towered above everything as if emphasizing his presence and authority. A yellowish light shone through the glass walls from within, gently illuminating the entire precinct, bringing to your mind a faint ray of hope breaking through the darkness and gloom. Inside, the office was as messy and hazy as the entire post. Despite the large centrally located windows, it seemed murky and tight. The central part brightly lit contrasted so much with the black corners hidden in shadow. Thick cigarette smoke drifted against the yellow warm light. Cigarette butts spilled out of an ashtray that fought for its place on the desk with coffee cups and stacks of documents and folders. Stacks of files were crammed on shelves and in boxes piled against the wall and on the floor around the desk even more than everything else so far informing you of the scale of crime in Gotham. The commissioner sat behind his desk bent over the files with a cigarette hanging at his lips as if not paying attention to his surroundings.

"Commissioner Gordon," the policewoman began.

"I told you I am busy," Gordon muttered under his breath, "if nothing is burning or exploding Bullock can handle it."

"Miss Y/L/N to see you, Commissioner," she finished, announcing your presence forcing the commissioner to raise his eyes from over his papers and interrupt his work.

"Thank you, Alice," he turned to the policewoman changing his tone of voice, "find Bullock and send him to me please," he instructed, "Miss Y/L/N please sit down," he turned to you pointing to a chair on the other side of the desk.

You took the seat opposite him, and although you tried very hard to remain calm and composed you were sure that Gordon clearly saw nerves and uncertainty in your movements. You involuntarily looked around the room wanting to register every little detail, returning your gaze again and again to the dark corners shrouded in shadow.

"Would you like something to drink?" Gordon asked politely, "the coffee is dreadful but it gets the job done."

"No, thank you," you replied just as kindly.

"I see you're feeling better now," Gordon continued, "I'm glad, and thank you for showing up."

"Did I have a choice?" you asked without thinking, momentarily regretting not biting your tongue.

"We brought you in to give a statement, you are not under suspicion in any way," Gordon explained, "nor do we have any grounds to interrogate you against your will."

"So if I want I can leave and refuse to testify?" since you had already started there was no point in backing out.

"You can," Gordon confirmed, "but I think it would look very suspicious. Would you agree with me?"

"I think you're right," you admitted quietly.

The door opened abruptly and a second man entered the office. Medium height with a heavier physique, another picture of contrast and clash of two contradictions. His lengthy hair and several days of facial stubble expressed nonchalance and neglect, yet his suit blazer, shirt and tie showed professionalism and elegance.

"Miss Y/L/N, my partner, Detective Bullock," Gordon introduced the man.

"Right, so how was it with the Joker and his girlfriend," Bullock leaned against the glass wall of the office and asked directly, "We know you helped him escape, we know you were the driver of the car the Joker used to escape," Bullock didn't plan to play nice.

"I... it's not quite like that…" you began.

"During the escape, you broke more than a dozen laws, caused two accidents, and damage to public property," Bullock listed, "three people are in the hospital of which one is in serious condition and fighting for life."

"I'm sorry…" you cringed at the sound of your own words, knowing very well how pathetic that sounded.

"Sorry ain't gonna cover that sweetheart! You gotta work with us here."

"It's not like I had any choice…" you tried to defend quietly.

"We can book you for complicity and charge you with a fine," he added.

"And what about the assumption of innocence?" you looked at Bullock defiantly.

"It went to shit the moment you pressed on the gas."

"Miss Y/L/N, please tell us how it happened that you were dragged into this situation," Gordon interjected into the conversation, adopting the role of a good cop, "everything, with details."

"I didn't know," you looked at him trying to sound as sincere as you could, "I had no idea. I was asked by a friend to pick up her boyfriend, who was returning from a short vacation. I had no reason not to agree."

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," Gordon inserted.

"That's right," you confirmed, seeing no point in hiding her identity.

"How long have you known each other?"

"Most of our lives," you replied, "we grew up together, went to school together, we used to be inseparable. Then, life happened and we just each went our separate ways. Harleen moved out to Gotham and I stayed in my hometown with my family and contact just stopped."

"And yet you decided to renew it," Gordon continued.

"I recently moved to Gotham, I don't know anyone here, I thought it was a good opportunity to renew an old friendship."

"Why did you move to Gotham?" Bullock cut in.

"For work."

"As a Joker's getaway driver?"

"No!" you denied angrily, "As an engineer at Wayne Enterprises. You can check it out. I was hired at Wayne Tech as an engineer. Lucius Fox is my direct supervisor."

"We know," Gordon stated, "what was happening on the eve of the Joker's escape? You were seen at 44 Below." A cold shiver ran down your spine when you realized how bad it all looked.

"I met Harleen for the first time in years," you began to explain, "I don't know the city very well yet, so I decided to rely on her."

"Didn't it seem suspicious to you that you were going to a club beneath a club?"

"She said her boyfriend knew the owner and that it was a VIP club," you replied, "I had no reason not to trust her."

"And then? Nothing seemed suspicious to you?"

"At times, sure," you admitted, "strange types watching us, drinks appearing out of nowhere, it was unusual, but I was happy to spend time with my friend, I didn't want to look like a freak, and also alcohol did its job."

"Please continue the story," Gordon encouraged.

"Everything was pretty normal until we were invited to the owner's office," you continued, and you had to admit to yourself that now as you were telling the story out loud in front of the cops, it sounded very bad, "Harleen called him Ozzy, a short corpulent man. There was another one, big and stocky, Harleen seemed to know him," you recalled from memory, "Butch, she called him Butch."

"Oswald Cobblepot and Butch Gilzean," Bullock threw in.

"There were a few others there as well, I think security guards," you continued, "I refused to go inside."

"Why?"

"Something felt off," you countered, "I'm sorry don't have a better explanation."

"What happened next?"

"Batman happened," you replied quietly, "Batman fell out of the ceiling," you repeated looking Gordon in the eyes, "he jumped out through the ceiling vent grate, beat everyone up in a snap, and told us to leave."

"Just like that?" Bullock questioned.

"I didn't ask him why," you furrowed your eyebrows, "I almost shit myself when he jumped out of the ceiling. Sorry, but I didn't give a shit about his reasons!"

"Alright, that was Saturday," you followed Gordon's voice with your eyes, "What happened on Sunday?"

You calmed your blood pressure, regretting not asking for a glass of water, and continued.

"As I mentioned earlier, Harleen asked me to go with her to pick up her boyfriend who she said was returning from a short vacation. She was very eager for me to meet him, so I didn't refuse even though I didn't feel like socializing after the Saturday events."

"After all that happened you just said yes?" Bullock inquired.

"I know how it looks, but I didn't even have time to think about it all," you replied, "more than that, I looked at everything through the prism of our friendship."

"Continue please," Gordon encouraged.

"Harleen didn't tell me where we were going, and I didn't ask. I was tired and lost in thought. In the car, we talked about her work at Arkham Asylum, and we got into a discussion about how dangerous that job was and how dangerous Gotham was. Trivial matters of life decisions and supporting each other, the kind that friends talk about. Although now as I recall that conversation, it takes on a whole different context…" you remarked quietly, "anyways, Harleen said she wanted to drive up to Arkham on the way because the doctors were donating blood on Sundays and now it was her turn. I had no reason to suspect a lie."

"What happened next?"

"Harleen went to the hospital and I stayed in front of the gate by the car. She was gone for a long time. And suddenly I heard an explosion and sirens! I was scared that something had happened!"

"Why didn't you run away? A normal person would have run away," Bullock threw in another question.

"I was worried about my friend! You have my recording! I called 911, reported the incident and seriously for a moment I wanted to go into the Asylum and look for her! I was afraid for her! But before I could go in I saw her from a distance running. I had her on the phone, she was screaming for me to start the engine. I thought she was running away from whatever was going on there. I didn't think twice! I jumped in the car and started the engine. She shouted, urged me on, everything happened very fast…" you recounted in one breath, "I didn't even look at the seat next to me. Only at the moment when the Joker put the gun to my head did I realize what was really happening."

"But you didn't stop the car," Bullock noted.

"Did you skip the part where the Joker put the gun to my forehead, detective?" you fumed angrily, "again, I've never been in a situation like that, obviously! I didn't know what to do! Everything happened very quickly! Only screaming and a gun to my forehead! I was trying not to kill us and at the same time not to kill anyone along the way! And then everything sped up even more when Batman appeared out of nowhere! So forgive me, Detective Bullock, but I didn't think, I reacted to the situation! Joker as soon as he saw Batman started shooting! I was afraid that he would shoot one of the people walking by, I was afraid that I would cause a crash! I tried to maneuver through traffic and not cause an accident!"

"How did it happen that you drove off the road?" Gordon asked softly.

"I did it on purpose," you replied as if slightly embarrassed.

"On purpose?"

"The situation escalated, I knew Harleen was a great swimmer, it seemed the only way out of the situation. I didn't want anyone innocent to get hurt."

"Weren't you concerned for yourself?"

"I wasn't thinking," you replied, "I wanted to stop all this. Driving off the road seemed the best solution at that moment."

"How did you get out of the car?"

"Batman pulled me out," you replied, "he saved my life…." you added in a half-whisper.

Silence fell when you finished telling the story. Gordon and Bullock exchanged meaningful glances as if they were wordlessly exchanging thoughts. Your gaze wandered once again to a dark corner of the commissioner's office hidden in shadows an anxious shiver ran down your spine. The shadow seemed to have a shape.

"Alright,'" Gordon broke the silence, "we have no more questions. Detective Bullock will escort you to the exit. Please do not leave the city and remain available should we have any more questions."

"Commissioner, what about Harleen? Have you found her? Is she safe?" you asked unable to hide the worry in your voice.

"Harleen Quinzel remains wanted with a warrant for her arrest. Her whereabouts are currently unknown," Gordon stated before thanking you again for your time and closing the door behind you.

Gordon watched Bullock and Y/N walking away for a moment before turning the lock on the door and sitting down again behind the desk, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag while slowly letting the smoke out.

"What do you think?" he asked into the space.

"I think she is telling the truth," a growly voice answered from the shadows.

"Yes, I think so too. Poor girl. I haven't seen such bad luck in one person for a long time," he sighed heavily.

"Though just because she doesn't lie doesn't change the fact that we have to keep an eye on her. Her history with Qunizel and genuine concern for her safety makes me think that Miss Y/L/N still has a role to play. Either of her own will or in spite of it."

"You want me to put APB on her?"

"No. I will handle this myself."

"I'm sure you've heard about the pilot," Gordon added after a moment, letting out a puff of smoke, "have you had a chance to check out his apartment yet?"

"I've got Nightwing and Robin working on it as we speak," Batman replied, "I'll let you know when I know something."

"Batman, I don't think there's any connection. The guy hung himself!" Gordon began to think aloud receiving only a cold breath of air in response. The shadow was just an empty shadow again. Batman was gone.

***

Across town in a small suite on the second floor of an apartment building once lived Marc Phillips. Marc was an average man, working as a car mechanic by day, earning just enough to live an average life and pay alimony. Marc wasn't proud of his average life, but he was proud of his avionette. A beautiful little plane that he loved more than his own wife, although he never admitted it. He cherished it, cared for it, looked after it like it was the most precious treasure. Mark didn't quite like his average life, but he loved the moments when he took the avionette into the air above streets and buildings and skyscrapers. Yes, in those moments Marc felt he was alive. How happy he was when his closest friend found a lovely woman he wanted to marry. She was a good, honest woman, the kind Marc had met very few in his life. How proud he was when he was able to offer them a private flight in his beautiful avionette for their dream honeymoon. How despaired he was when all that joy splashed into a wet stain on the dirty pavement. Marc knew that if he was gone no one would take care of his beautiful avionette, his greatest pride. As he put the loop around his neck, he imagined how rust ruined and ate away the red paint, how moisture covered the blue with a foul green hue. Yet that evening Marc wanted to feel free. He wanted all his fears and anxieties to disappear. He wanted to rise above his mediocre life one last time. His last flight, however, turned out to be short, just half a meter, which was given to him by a knocked-down chair. Then came the darkness.

"Bills, payment notices, signed divorce papers, nothing interesting," Tim was browsing through a dresser drawer, looking for anything that might provide a link to the investigation.

"Standard rope probably purchased at Home Depot. Good strong weave, zero rush, looks like he was tying it for two days," Dick looked closely at the marks, "he knew full well what he was doing. The rope was woven tightly with a triple twist, leaving no chance of breaking. The length was chosen almost perfectly, considering the height of the chair."

"Poor bastard," Tim muttered under his breath, "what do we know about his psychiatrist?"

"Professor Jonathan Crane. A renowned psychiatrist, specializing mainly in trauma, PTSD, and phobias. Born in Gotham, he graduated from Gotham University with honors. He later worked at Metropolis General Hospital and the Royal Memorial Hospital in Star City. Recently, he has become the head of the psychiatric wing at Elliot Memorial."

"Isn't that chick who broke the Joker out of Asylum a psychiatrist as well?" Tim asked inquisitively.

"Hey, just because we have two psychiatrists on file doesn't mean they have any connection to each other, Robin," Dick corrected his brother.

"A bit too much of a coincidence don't you think?" Tim countered and returned to searching through the drawers, "Hey Nightwing?!"

"Yup?"

"Didn't Batman seem more cryptic than usual to you today?"

"Yup!"

"He's hiding something."

"Yup!"

"Do you think it has something to do with that girl?"

"Yup!"

"Hey, I found the pills!"

"Good job Robin!" Nightwing applauded as he walked over to his brother, "Damn, a whole drawer of pills."

"Sedatives, sleeping pills, antidepressants," Robin looked at each bottle separately to finally stop at one, "these I don't know," he stated lifting a small bottle to the light.

"Neither do I," Nightwing stated looking at the pill, "take them, take them all. This is the only trace so far."

"Not quite!" Robin grinned, raising the folder of documents to eye level, "hospital discharge and diagnosis!" he announced with a smirk.

"Jackpot! Our job is done here."

***

If one would raise his eyes upward and look at the evening sky casting its blackness over the city he would see nothing. He would not see the black figure rising and falling between the buildings, spreading his cape and gliding above the city. He would not have noticed the calm face and keen eyes scanning the city intently. He wouldn't have noticed the discreet turns of his head picking up on disturbing sounds. He would not have heard his cape flapping in the wind, would not have noticed the worry painted on his face at the sight of the huddled figure sitting on the edge of the bridge leading to Gotham North. From the street, it was hard to see the black figure in the starless sky. Yet Batman could see everything. He perched on the building's rooftop close enough to see everything yet far enough away to remain unnoticed. She was sitting there, exactly where the metal railings had been until two weeks ago. Black leather jacket, heavy boots, her hair loose and dancing in the wind, she seemed distant. Gazing into the rough waters of the bay, she seemingly carelessly waved her legs hanging off the bridge. "Why would she come here?" he wondered, "what is she hiding?"

For a moment he thought of leaving her there. For a moment he considered turning his back to her and carrying on with his patrol. For a moment he was convinced that he shouldn't approach her, that this was a very bad move. And yet there was something wrong with the sad picture he was observing, something that wouldn't let him just walk away. Zooming in on her face, he realized that something was missing. He was missing the feisty smile he had come to know, the carefree laugh and that adorable embarrassment. The picture was broken. He couldn't simply ignore it. He gently jumped off the roof and soared toward her landing softly a few steps away, careful not to scare her.

"Don't jump," he murmured quietly as he approached her slowly. She shuddered and turned abruptly, too abruptly for his liking.

"Batman…" she gasped with widened eyes.

"You're not planning to jump are you?"

"No," she replied shortly, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm the one who should be asking you that."

"I'm waiting," she replied without taking her eyes off him.

"Waiting for what?"

"A miracle, I guess,'" she quipped, "my phone died in the water, and Harleen doesn't respond to my messages on Insta, Messenger and Twitter. Don't know why, but I was kinda hoping that I would find her here."

"You shouldn't be looking for her."

"She's my friend!" she fumed angrily, "if nothing else at least she owes me an explanation."

"Let it go. She has made her choices."

"It's so easy for you to judge people Batman?" she asked and looked away gazing once again at the water below, "it's so easy for you to cross someone out? Maybe it's not what you think it is?"

Batman did not answer immediately. Part of Bruce knew he shouldn't, yet he drowned out that voice. He sat down next to her on the edge of the bridge and fixed his eyes on the raising waves.

"Then tell me how you think it is…" out of the corner of his eye he saw her flinch slightly surprised by his action, but she did not take her gaze off the water.

"Harleen is a good person. All her life she has wanted to help people. That's why she chose her specialty. She has always said that there is a stigma against people with mental disorders, especially those who commit crimes. She objected to the statement that the criminally insane cannot be cured. She always said that she would prove to ignorant people that illness, any illness, can be cured or at least mitigated," Y/N said and Batman listened in silence, "Does that sound to you like a description of someone you treat like a criminal?"

"No," he admitted, "but I, unlike you, know something you don't."

"Which is?"

"I know who the Joker is."

"Another reason to consider her his victim, not his accomplice," Y/N stated stubbornly, "you know she's a wanted criminal?"

"I know."

"I'll find her first and prove that she, like me, is just an innocent victim of circumstance," fierceness flashed in her eyes and Bruce realized that there were no words that could stop her, "I'll find her before the cops find her, before you do!" she furrowed her brows angrily and tightened her hands on the edge of the bridge. Bruce knew this fierceness well. He saw it many times in Dick's eyes, Jason's, Tim's, in his own each time he looked in the mirror.

"You almost drowned," he tried to appeal to her sense of self-preservation, "you almost died in there," he looked at her but she stubbornly stared into the water.

"You saved me…" she whispered finally, "And I thank you for that," he did not comment. "Thank you also for sending paramedics to my house."

"You're welcome."

"How did you know where I live?"

"I didn't," he lied, "The policewoman knew."

"Right…"

"Leave the Harleen case to me and the cops," he insisted gently, "two weeks ago you almost drowned. Leave it. Go back to your normal life, to your family, to your job."

"I can't…" she replied before adding after a brief pause, "you're right, I almost died. I should have died. Every day I get from now on is a gift. I can't just go back to work and normal life. I can't leave her."

"I can't let you put yourself in danger and potentially hinder the investigation."

"Then help me,"" she snapped her eyes and looked straight into his own, "Will you help me, Batman?"

***

Chapter six: Choices that define us ~~***~~

Author note: It took a while but here we are at the end of chapter five! Thank you for your patience. I'm really trying to publish chapters as consistently as I can but unfortunately, there is work and other responsibilities. And these chapters, well they do take time. I hope it was worth the wait! We had slow down a bit, take a breather after chapter four, tighten the plot, so we could pick up the pace again. Besides, I am really enjoying slow world-building, adding characters, adding new pieces to the story, connecting the dots. I do hope that it will pay off at the end. I've been asked for a tag list and I took the liberty of adding some of you so please let me know if you want to be added or removed. I thank you all for your DMs, comments and reblogs. Even if I do not respond to all of them, I assure I read them all, and each brings a smile to my face. Enough of me bubbling, gotta start working on chapter six cos I kinda miss Bruce ;) For now, as always Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~ Tag list: @clown-princesa @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @green-parx @batgirlspain

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themculibrary · 1 year

Text

Rich/Poor Masterlist

Black AmEx (ao3) - copperbadge G, 4k

Summary: Bruce isn't sure he wants to use a credit card Tony gave him. Steve isn't sure he even knows how.

Can’t Stop Us RoboDads (ao3) - justanotherpipedream, rebelmeg T, 13k

Summary: The story of how a genius rich kid from New York and a poor military-bound kid from South Philly meet, get into shenanigans, birth a few bots, and forge a life-long friendship.

Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend (ao3) - camichats wanda/tony E, 14k

Summary: Wanda ends up as Tony Stark’s sugar baby to help get her through college. Getting into that relationship was the last thing she expected and falling in love came as a surprise to both of them.

Faithless (ao3) - TheZev mary jane watson/tony E, 7k

Summary: While living in Stark Tower, Mary Jane decides she’s had enough of being Peter Parker’s broke wife. Now she’d rather be Tony Stark’s rich sugar baby.

Fund (ao3) - ardett T, 2k

Summary: Peter overshares. Tony oversteps. Things spiral from there.

Or Tony holds Peter’s college fund over his head and Peter doesn’t get into MIT.

I Know Better (ao3) - Fallenstar92 steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Not_enough_furytony13 said: "Can u please do a fanfic where Steve and tony's roles are reversed (human au though) where Steve is a rich CEO and tony is a broke mechanic of some sort and he's running from an abusive boyfriend and past. And all of steves friends (who are all rich too) are really protective and think tony is just using Steve for his money but eventually figure out from different events with tony and snippets of Tony's past that tony isn't using Steve and genuinely loves him. Can u please also put a lot of angst in it but also a lot of fluff to balance out (I.e. Steve having to sleep on the couch because of a really stupid fight over something cute and trivial, tony having trust issues, the media being very negative or really positive) I really love your writing so I would really love to see your writing with this prompt!❤️❤️"

Iron Heart & America's Shield (ao3) - CMRandles steve/tony E, 17k

Summary: Stony!AU Steve Rogers is the CEO of a non-profit company that provides jobs and counseling for veterans. Tony Stark is a photographer struggling to make ends meet and pridefully refusing help from his billionaire father. Steve needs a genius artist for a marketing campaign that might snatch his company back from the brink of disaster. Tony needs to pay his rent without selling his soul. What could go wrong? Or, perhaps, very very right.

it's always sunny (in the rich man's world) (ao3) - parkrstark T, 7k

Summary: 5 times Peter worries about money...

Living ain’t cheap (ao3) - Strength_in_pain N/R, 2k

Summary: “I thought our utility bill would be lower. Shit shit shit.” May cried, running a hand through her hair. Or Peter is worried about May because their financial struggles have gotten worse and he ends up needing Tony Stark.

making a living ain't easy (ao3) - snarkymuch T, 2k

Summary: Written for this prompt from Raffeale: May and Peter can't afford rent and food anymore. May broke her arm last week. Now, their main source of income is Peter's job, which takes place almost every hour where he isn't at school. Tony finds out after Peter refuses his invitation to come over for the third time in a row. Because of this, Peter keeps giving most of his food to May. Low blood sugar, super high metabolism, and being Spiderman doesn't really mix well (fainting). Protective Tony Stark, Hurt Peter Parker?

peter’s stars (ao3) - IronPengu, parkrstark steve/tony T, 175k

Summary: Steve and Peter lose their apartment and are kicked out on the streets. Steve has to juggle between jobs to earn whatever money he can, take care of his son while resfusing to let him realize how much they’re trouble in, and keep them warm and safe on the city streets in winter.

So, he really doesn’t have time to date the billionaire that flirts with him everyday as he buys his cup of coffee. Even if he did, he can’t let himself fall for the man. Because if he knew that he lived from a backpack and showered in a public bathroom there’s no way he’d still want him…right?

Running (ao3) - kuro steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve as a rich and famous artist & Tony as a poor mechanic AU. Or something like that.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #masterlists #richpoor #richpoor masterlist #au

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acidcaught-a · 2 years

Note

[ HAIR ] (bc i can)

[ HAIR ]: sender slowly reaches out to catch a loose strand of the receiver’s hair and tucks it gently and securely back behind their ear, letting their touch linger afterward. (if the receiver has short hair, then the sender reaches out and gently runs their fingers through their hair to smooth it back.)

harvey sits at the bar alone. it's an old haunt. one he frequented back in law school when bruce wore a fake mustache and wielded a credit card with the high limit set in the pair's honor. harvey pays for his own drinks now. times have changed and not for the better.

the bartender leaves him be. it's hard to see the man anymore, he thinks, when half his face is lacking its flesh. the bottle is almost empty. he'd even quit using the shot glass. the cash is good, even if it's stolen from the mob. they stole it first. he takes another draw from his cigar and another swallow of the drink. a tissue is pulled from his pocket, monogrammed from his days as the district attorney, and he wiped what doesn't make it to his throat. he's not an animal.

the chair beside him scrubs the wooden floor and harvey turns his head to see his company. he recognizes her, maybe, seen her around the city, under the neon lights. it's strange to him that she would sit next to his bad side, purposefully refusing the empty chair beside the good. she grabs his drink and a clean shot glass from behind the bar, helping herself. he stares at her until realization hits. colby. the bounty hunter girl.

he grunts out a greeting and swipes at the bottle, but she snatches it away and out of his reach. an aggravated harvey turns so his body faces hers. he stares at her insufferable grin. it's stubborn. perhaps she wants something. information she knows he has. she pours him another shot into his own glass but keeps the bottle to herself. he shoots back half with a tilt of his head so none is lost.

she says something but the room is already blurry. he hasn't been able to hold his liquor as well these days and he waves her off with a sharp rebuttal.

he stiffens on the barstool; her fingers brush at the white hair that falls over his face. the lack of fear in her stirs his curiosity. he feels himself leaning towards her hand, unwilling, and hopes it isn't noticeable. he'll be furious later when he's righted himself. allowing vulnerability where none should be found. she tucks the pale strands behind his ear, her thumb brushing against the rough patch of skin that lingers underneath. he wonders why she would do such a thing before he pulls away, swatting at her hand.

he slides a manilla envelope towards her with everything she needs. hoping that it's enough. praying that it isn't.

#firedblanks #this got LONG IM SORRY

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povlvr · 2 years

Text

2 • Operation: Coffee ... Snack Mountain & Emergency Ice Cream | OPERATION: FAKING IT ...?

2 • Operation: Coffee … Snack Mountain & Emergency Ice Cream | OPERATION: FAKING IT …?

Description: After you move into the tower it's time for your coffee date, will it be awkward or run smoothly? How will the public & your friends react to the news that you & Bucky appear to be a couple?

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Cute Bucky, swearing, suggestive language 18+ (no smut).

A/N: I really can't keep my word count down, sorry guys!!

Series Masterlist

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

---

Moving into the compound was a complete snooze fest, Tony rolled his eyes at you after you refused to lift a finger, you had found your old skates when packing so naturally brought them with you & decided to take them for a spin whilst everyone emptied the moving van.

It didn’t take long with the combination of slick floors & lack of practice for an incident to occur, you had hurtled down the hallway & crashed into something full speed & before you knew it Bucky had you thrown over his shoulder marching you to the kitchen to Ice your knee, Pepper immediately confiscated your skates due to them being a ‘health & safety hazard’, it's not your fault the guy you fell over came out of nowhere.

Bucky insisted on you leaving everyone to unload all the boxes whilst he patched you up & offered to help you unpack once they were done, he was being so sweet to you to try & get you to stop sulking but kept snatching your phone away whenever you tried to order some roller blades online. Rude.

You were chatting as you unpacked your belongings in your new home, you had separate rooms on the same floor so were sharing the communal space, your rooms were identical empty boxes, much less cosy than your apartment & not one single plant to brighten the shell up which made you sad. Bucky handled your possessions with such delicacy it was adorable, how anyone could think this teddy bear of a man was dangerous clearly were clueless. The look on Bucky’s face when he got to your lingerie was hilarious, is uncomfortable & horny a facial expression? or did he unlock a new one? You made a note to ask Bruce later, he would know.

As the afternoon took over you could feel yourself being aware of the time, knowing you had to be at the coffee shop around 3pm. Bucky sensed your apprehension & reassured you that it would just be a hang out with hand holding, he suggested treating each planned event like a mission; you would agree to the plan before embarking, execute said mission & then have a quick debrief back at the tower to make sure everything was ok & you were both comfortable with the date. Todays would be an easy one, sit & have a coffee together, hold hands for a few minutes then back to the tower. Simple.

You checked yourself in the mirror before heading down the lobby to meet Bucky, you tried to match his style somewhat so chose a pair of black skinny jeans, your trusty lace up ankle boots, a cropped high neck vest & oversized open shirt. It was warm in the city so you could forgo a jacket & it was pointless carrying a handbag with Tony’s credit card loaded onto your apple pay, you were set & oddly excited for coffee & pastries.

It turns out walking next to someone as large as Bucky closely was difficult, your shoulder kept knocking into his side & due to the solid nature of him it hurt, a lot, he could see you wincing in pain whenever it happened so he tucked you into his side & draped his arm over your shoulder, you couldn’t help wrap yourself around him, it felt a natural position for your arm instead of being awkwardly squished up against him you reasoned. Plus, he smelled heavenly.

The coffee shop was irritatingly busy, Bucky would stare menacingly any time you were bumped into & would get especially annoyed whenever you apologised to whichever imbecile bumped into you instead those who did the bumping apologising to you, in order to prevent an escalation, you gravitated into Bucky’s space, people seemed to give him a respectful amount of distance & you wanted to believe it was due to his size but you suspected they knew who he once was. As you got to the front of the queue you stood contemplating your order deciding between a frappachino or hot coffee, you thought Bucky would assume you were an idiot if you got anything too frilly so went with a simple iced coffee, two arms appeared either side of you on the counter caging you in, although he wasn’t pressed against you, you could feel his body heat radiating behind you, as Bucky placed his order you leaned back looking up at him & rested your head on his shoulder, you wondered how on earth someone is so pretty at every angle.

There was a slight squabble as you tried to pay, the barista looked amused at the sight of two Avengers battling their respective payment methods despite one being a whole foot taller & wider than the other. Bucky insisted that a lady never pays on a date & even if you knew it wasn’t a real date, it surprisingly made you feel cherished by him, you did relent but made him buy two Portuguese Tarts as part of the deal, he said they looked burnt you told him to shut his trap & trust you, it was a whole ordeal but eventually you got your coffee & patisseries & took a seat.

Your conversation flowed naturally & any worries you had about it being awkward faded, you weren’t aware of your surroundings or if anyone was taking pictures at that particular moment because you were completely transfixed by Bucky experiencing the wonder that is a Portuguese Tart for the first time, as the flaky pastry touched his pink pouty lips his eyes closed & his head tipped back groaning in sheer bliss, you loved being right but your smugness was short lived, in a split second Bucky’s hand reached out, quick as a flash to the remaining tart on the table.

‘No, don’t you dare Bucky.’ You warned, you weren’t exactly a Joe with food, but you’d fight to the death for the tart currently being stolen from you in broad daylight.

‘Come on Bambi, one isn’t enough.’ You jumped into action, grabbing the Super Soldier’s wrist blocking him from chowing down on your treat.

‘It will have to be, quit it, you’ll crush it if you’re not careful, one is plenty. Just order more…gahh’ you twisted yourself around & managed to bite down on half of the pastry whilst whisper yelling ‘VictoRRRRYYYYYY’. With you distracted Bucky made his move, pulling you towards him to the point you were practically sat on his lap, with your combined hands clutching the pastry near his mouth he took the remaining amount with smug look on his face, wrapping his lips around your fingers practically sucking on them. It should have annoyed you but that really wasn’t the affect it was having, you were overcome with arousal, it was pulsating throughout you like lightening, from the tips of your fingers connecting you to him, shooting through your entire being.

The eye contact was intense as you reached out with your thumb to wipe the pastry flakes that were caught in his stubble at the corner of his mouth, he was mesmerised by the action, it was such an intimate touch, but his brain had already short circuited with you on his lap & fingers in his mouth moments before so when he moved his head to quickly kiss the pad of your thumb he shocked himself. It felt right but his brain was screaming at him for being so bold.

After swiftly removing yourself from Bucky’s lap & returning to your seat hoping no one caught that moment on camera you moved forward with the planned hand holding portion of the mission. You reached out & placed your palm out towards him, as he took the cue he gently intertwined his fingers with yours.

‘It’s a bit weird if we just sit & hold hands not talking.’ You pointed out.

‘Right, right … well what do you do on a first date? Can’t say I’ve been on one for a while.’ Bucky admitted stroking his thumb against your palm.

‘Trust me when I say I’m not an expert. I guess you get to know each other, trade traumatic childhoods, life goals, that kind of thing.’

‘When was your last date?’ He was surprised he asked, he wanted to know but also really didn’t. You were friends, it had always been platonic, but Bucky knew he was jealous when you spent time with other people, men specifically but he just thought it was because he wanted to hang out with you, nothing more or deeper than that.

‘erm a few months ago, it didn’t go anywhere. I think he just wanted me to introduce him to Nat. That’s what usually happens.’ You shrugged in defeat at your pathetic dating history.

‘Have they told you that or do you just assume?’ you noticed how pissed he looked at your admission & how he kept clenching his jaw.

‘One guy did, said I annoyed him when I kept suggesting things we could do & then asked for her number. It’s not my fault he didn’t want to have a road trip to NASA at 3am on a Tuesday.’

‘I’m going to need his name, address & social security number Bambi.’

‘Bucky!! We’re trying to improve your reputation, if you went after every guy who was shitty to me you’d have no time to scowl.’

He narrowed his eyes at you ‘I don’t scowl.’

‘Sure you don’t, ok smoulder.’

‘That’s better.’

‘What about you, when was your last date?’ Why were you hoping it was in the 1920’s?

‘Steve set me up last year, I ended up having to cancel the first time because something came up.’

‘That hero life.’ You added.

‘Yeah ... yeah so when Steve made me rearrange, she wasn’t very nice.’

He doesn’t know why he lied, cancelling had nothing to do with a mission, you had asked him if he wanted to go to the arcade with you & despite him insisting to you that it was closed, he knew you would go regardless so didn’t want you going alone & then being disappointed when it was closed. Plus, he wasn’t about to pass up whatever hair-brained wild plan you would come up with in the split second after you realised it was closed & so he cancelled last minute.

You couldn’t help giggle, ‘What did she do?’

‘I took her to a nice place & she turned her nose up at it, told me to keep my glove on & scolded me for wearing my leather jacket instead of a dinner jacket.’

‘Ok, I’m going to need her name, address & social security number.’ You were livid, especially about the glove.

You didn’t see his full smile often, his smiles were usually reserved & measured even at something funny but to experience the Bucky Barnes unadulterated smile complete with adorable nose scrunch was special. It filled you entirely with warmth.

‘Bonnie & Clyde eat your heart out.’ He chuckled.

‘Yesssss, Tony has no idea what he's unleashed pairing us up. Plus, that is officially our next Halloween costume. What can our puppy be?’

Our. That sounded good to Bucky. ‘The car?’

You let out a little squeal ‘We’ll win best dressed for sure we’ll be that fucking adorable.’ Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm & get caught up in it himself.

‘Doll, I don’t think there’s a competition at Tony’s parties for best dressed.’

‘Just you wait, I’ll make him have one, that crown is ours.’ You nodded in confidence that you could make Tony Stark do whatever you wanted.

‘I’ve never asked you how you’re so close with Tony. He acts like your dad & you have him wrapped around your finger.’ He may have admitted to himself the night before when he was packing up his one bag that consisted of 60% knives that he too was wrapped around your finger, probably always has been.

‘He’s like an honorary dad or protective uncle depending on the circumstance, when I joined SHIELD I hacked Jarvis his old AI & he found out, mainly because I wanted him to; I was far too qualified for the job & bored to tears so decided to send him on scavenger hunt to find me, mainly for my own amusement but also to showcase my skills, I swear I made him fly to Timbuktu & he still didn’t cotton on I was fucking with him. Once he calmed down he transferred me to the team, set me up my own lab then proceeded to spend more time in it than his own especially when he was hiding from Pepper, he was oddly protective then just started acting like my dad. I allow it because I find it funny when he tells me off, plus he buys me stuff.’

‘He’s not the only one, Sam & Steve act like your big brothers, in fact I don’t think I have ever seen you pay for food or a drink, maybe your superpower is getting men wrapped around your finger.’

‘That would be so cool, I’d turn into a villain immediately though with that kind of power. I’d have you all lined up on your knees.’

‘Don’t need to be a villain for me to do that Doll.’ Shit, Bucky’s eyes practically bulged out of his head the second he said it.

You suddenly became aware of the pulse between your thighs, how your legs felt like jelly & how your face was heating up past boiling point, Bucky’s subtle flirting was pretty standard & something you mostly ignored, but Bucky’s blatant flirting was something to behold. The image of this man on his knees for you unlocked a new kink for sure but you couldn’t decide if this flirting was just for the mission, genuine or most likely another innuendo he had no clue of. Sweet innocent Bucky.

You brushed it off & as you finished your coffees decided whether to tell the team about the mission or to keep them on their toes & have fun with them, it didn’t take much convincing to sway Bucky to your plan. He was already on board, but the case you put forward about being able to hide in each other’s room undisturbed & watch movies & not having to sit with other people all the time were perks he hadn’t thought of.

You text Tony to let him know to keep the mission top secret, you knew he would revel in playing along & lording it up over the others that he had known since the beginning. Before you left you ordered a batch of tarts to the tower for Bucky, he had missed out on 70+ years of fine patisseries, so you wanted to make sure he caught up without wrestling the next one out of your hands.

The walk back to the tower didn’t feel long enough, the sun was peeking through the skyscrapers creating shards of light fracturing onto the sidewalks, as Bucky glanced at you he swore you looked like an angel, he didn’t know you were thinking the same when you switched sides to hold his vibranium hand & looked up at him bathed in light. Life felt peaceful in those moments with Bucky, even in the hustle of New York, you couldn’t help but get excited for walking your dog together & taking them to parks to play. It was going to be the best summer ever you concluded, maybe you could convince Tony to lend you his yacht.

The silence was deafening in the common room when you & Bucky strolled in casually holding hands, you could see Tony smirking at the dropped jaws, both Natasha & Sam jumping up itching to ask all the questions flooding their heads, before they got chance you turned to Bucky & without thinking he pulled your hand up to his lips kissing your hand again.

‘Thanks for today Bonnie.’ His intense eye contact was magnetic, you couldn’t focus on anything but him.

‘Anytime Clyde, I’m going to go finish unpacking, I’ll see you later?’ You winked bringing out a blush & cheeky smile from him before wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

‘Just knock if you need anything.’ He whispered into your hair.

‘Good luck with them.’ You both chucked as you pulled apart & you left for your room.

… meanwhile

‘Are you all seeing what I think I’m seeing?’ Sam practically exploding from excitement.

Natasha looked on in suspicion ‘mmm not what I expected to see today.’ You were an open book & one she could usually read by looking at the cover, you & Bucky both appeared to be in your own little world unaware of the peanut gallery gawking at you, but she would have known if something was going on, you would have said something.

‘The Black Widow herself didn’t know. Can’t say it took me that long to work it out.’ Tony’s gloating had her rage levels spiralling.

‘Bucky probably asked your permission to ask her out knowing him, he wouldn’t dare without your blessing.’

‘Nope I figured it out, the signs were all there.’

‘You guys know I can hear everything you’re saying’ Bucky turned to face the room once you were out of earshot, when he saw all the gawping faces he regretted not coming with you, why was he the one to take all the questions when it was your idea to mess with them? He told himself to be vague & not look Natasha in the eyes.

‘So how long has this been going on?’ Steve asked as softly as possible, Bucky hated the kid gloves he handled him with at times, like he thought he was going to crumble at the slightest thing.

Sam was the complete opposite & was always abrupt with him to the point of revelling in his annoyance anytime he opened his mouth, ‘How in hell did you get her to say yes to a date?’

The shrug Bucky gave wasn’t enough info according to the collective, he could see Tony texting you laughing at your responses, he was jealous he wasn't the one you were texting. The why’s & how’s remained unanswered & he didn’t even begin to acknowledge the ‘about times’ that were thrown around, he mapped his exit before his parting words.

‘She is nice to me, doesn’t treat me like I will break, we’re good for each other, you might think we’re not compatible, but her excitement & enthusiasm is exactly what I need, I don’t feel as though I was ever the winter soldier when I’m with her.’

He assumed being dramatic might stop the questions, yes there could have been some truth in what he said but he stormed out before he could see if it had shut them up, he figured the whirlwind he left behind could be dealt with by Tony who was engrossed in conversation with you.

Tony sat back in contemplation once the super soldier had left wondering if maybe somewhere deep down he chose you because he thought you’d eventually get together. He worried you worked too much to meet someone & the ones you met all seemed to think you were too much but if you were ever in the tower outside of your lab you always seemed to have Bucky following you around like a puppy.

‘Look guys leave them to it, it shouldn’t work the brooding quiet super soldier with the talkative hyper computer nerd the size of a thimble, but it does. Look at the way they look at one another then tell me you didn’t see it before.’ & just like that Tony left for his lab.

---

You forgot how boring it was living at the tower, at least with your apartment you had the whole place to roam which would inevitably lead to you finding something to fiddle with, fix or strategize a solution to a logistical problem that you encountered, your one touch coffee system that could deliver a cup of coffee to your palm without so much as moving from the sofa was your pride & joy, Tony offered to programme a suit to do the same but it felt a little bit servant-y to you which gave you the ick plus a suit hovering in your apartment 24/7 was all kinds of freaky & a midnight scare waiting to happen. You were tempted to go to your lab to fiddle with something in there, but you were banned from working past 8pm on Tony’s orders after him finding out you worked 72 hours straight one time, you could override his command lock but thought getting up to mischief with your super soldier would be more fun. You didn’t have a scheduled date for a few days, so it would be a normal hangout just the two of you, you pulled up his contact in your phone hoping he wasn’t busy.

Once you made your way down to the lobby you saw Bucky leaning against a pillar, he wasn’t wearing his usual black on black on black gear of jeans, t-shirt, Boots & leather jacket. He had switched his usual coat with a tan bomber leather jacket, it brought out the warmth in his hair & skin, he looked hot. As you bounded towards him he held out his arms & without thought you let him draw you towards him into his embrace, you were tiny compared to him, so his hugs were all encompassing.

You looked up smiling practically squished into him, ‘hi.’

‘Hi, you ready to go?’

‘Yep’ as he released you from his hold his hand traced down your arm to grasp yours, it didn’t even occur to you not to link your fingers with him.

‘Do you wanna take the car or bike?’

‘Ooh bike, but don’t go too fast, I heard about someone once who once went flying off when they were cornering & the driver didn’t even notice until they arrived.’

As you walked towards the garage Bucky explained to you each reason why that was total bullshit but still promised to stick to just below the speed limit. He couldn’t help but kiss the tip of your nose with your squished-up face from the helmet he secured under your chin, you just looked too adorable not to, he reasoned to himself that he would probably do that when you were his friend so now was fine. Little did he know there was a certain red headed former assassin watching your every move getting more & more intrigued by the minute at what she was seeing.

You clung on to him for dear life once you were on the bike, you could tell how painfully slow he was taking it for you which made you feel bad for how tightly you held him, it wouldn’t shock you if you had bruised his ribs by the time you arrived.

Going to the movie theatre at night when it was quiet was one of your favourite activities, you’d usually have the whole place to yourself, tonight you weren’t so lucky, whilst there wasn’t a big crowd there were definitely some noticeable stares. You felt bad knowing Bucky wasn’t keen on attention, so you decided to divide & conquer, he was tasked with gathering the snacks & you were getting the tickets ... on Tony.

You doubled over laughing at the sight of Bucky clutching to what can only be described as a mountain of food in his arms, his giddy face you decided was your favourite, he looked so childlike & sweet.

‘I didn’t know what you wanted so …’

‘You got one of everything?’

‘Pretty much, I’ll eat whatever you don’t, trust me.’ He looked bashful like you were about to tell him off for getting so much, Bucky Barnes was adorable & you adored him, seriously why didn’t people see him how you did?

Somehow you managed to get to your seats without dropping any food & thankfully the seats next to you were free to store the goods, you chose some candy, cookies & popcorn, Bucky could deal with the pizza, hot dogs, burgers & ice cream but insisted you share some popcorn. You were quite early for the screening time, so you had time to chat & eat before the lights went down, as the previews began you lifted the arm rest separating you from Bucky, if you were sharing popcorn it was just easier to be closer, nothing to do with wanting to be close with the hunk next to you, of course.

Bucky’s arm made it’s way around you as you tucked yourself into his side, as he stroked your arm absentmindedly he could feel the goose bumps his touch created along with your breath hitching & eyes closing, he leaned down placing his lips next to your ear & whispered to you in his deep voice.

‘Are you cold doll?’ his lips were brushing the shell of your ear & you couldn’t help but shiver, why was Bucky suddenly turning you on when you hadn’t ever thought of him as more than a friend? He caught the way you shifted on your seat & felt himself growing at the sight, he loved how responsive you were being to the subtlest of touches, he wondered where these thoughts were coming from & what you’d be like filled full of him. Before all the blood in his brain travelled south & he did something stupid he sat forward pulling off his jacket draping it over you, as he leaned back he placed his arm around you manoeuvring you to his side with a kiss to your temple. He thanked whichever god invented the reclining seats right there & then as you wrapped your arm around his side & nested your head in the crook of his neck.

The movie was hard to pay attention to, the warmth & safety of Bucky relaxed you entirely & your brain was in a fuzz, you weren’t even going to acknowledge how horny you were, thankfully with the decibel level of the theatre you managed to stay awake, why do they insist on it being so loud? Bucky had noticed how quiet you were throughout the film, you usually commented on all the inaccuracies or guessed the plot, getting it wrong in the most ridiculous fashions, the amount of westerns that were about to be invaded by aliens in your head was concerning.

When the lights went up he wanted to kiss you, really kiss you, your half open eyes & dramatic pout that they dare turn on the lights & declarations that you were blind stirred something in him, he wanted you, he wanted this. For real. It hit him, he knew he had been enjoying the closeness & making you squirm but filed it away as not being with anyone in so long but having the overwhelming urge to sniper out every light bulb in the theatre just so that you wouldn’t strain your eyes made him realise it ran a bit deeper than that.

Why it only took a week to realise he didn’t know, he had firmly placed you in the friend category a long time ago, yes you were gorgeous, but you were an even more gorgeous friend to him. He had seen you in your bikini & not felt a thing more times than he could count, but now thinking about it got him hard, he covered your eyes with both his hands telling you it was to stop the light blinding you, but he would be mortified if you saw how hard one thought of you got him. He looked at you giggling whilst his hands dwarfed your face, how could he have been so blind?

It had been a quiet morning in the tower, you had faced a barrage of questions from Natasha that proved your suspicions that she had been spying on you as had Clint in the vents apparently, creepy. Although you were glad to be proven right & that someone was laughing at you when you walked into a door when you weren't looking where you were going. It was totally worth it though having been immediately scooped up into a solid set of Super Solider arms & you sore head kissed better, you wanted to lie & say your lips hurt, you saw him looking at them. Maybe you banged your head harder than you thought if you even for a second thought Bucky would kiss you properly, he would have probably made you go to the infirmary instead of taking the hint.

Once you made it to your lab you were busy reprogramming one of Tony’s suits to bring you your morning coffee, giving him a name felt less servant-y & yes, it would be creepy in your apartment but there were many closets in the tower where Gerald your new coffee friend could live. You felt your phone buzz & tried to calm down your giddiness when you saw the name on your screen.

Bucky knew you were working so understood you not being able to messaging him back immediately, he kept trying to stop himself going down to the lab & hanging out with you when you were busy but he really wanted to, you would let him too even if he was a complete distraction. He was lost in a daydream when he heard your footsteps outside his door, they were delicate & bouncy, solely yours then you gently knocked. He should have been embarrassed at how quickly he opened the door, the hinges were practically ripped off & you were stood there with a beaming smile just for him.

You launched yourself into his arms, jumping up so he would catch you as you wrapped yourself around his neck, it felt weird being so high up but you were the hugger & he was the hugee so you needed to be taller, his face was buried in your hair & he inhaled the comforting scent that was so intrinsically you.

Even though you didn't want to tell him you knew he needed to hear it from you with a reassurance that you didn't feel that way so you reluctantly whispered ‘A red flag is a personality or behaviour trait that would make that person a bad partner, don’t listen to what they say Bucky Bear. They don’t know you like I do.’ You held his beautiful face in your hands & made sure to look him in his eyes before pulling him towards you & giving him a big kiss on his cheek.

‘I thought you were in the lab?’

‘I can’t be making coffee robots when my big bear is sad, no way, not the kind of girl I am.’ You shook your head as you said it.

‘Coffee Robot?’ you were still being held up by Bucky like it was a totally normal occurrence, it certainly felt it as he took each of your ankles & wrapped them around him. The minute you jumped at him he was turned on with thoughts of slamming you against the wall & pushing himself into you, so your legs dangling down swinging about as he held you kept catching on his growing cock, you hadn't noticed you just looked at him questioning your insane invention with your gorgeous doe eyes whilst he manoeuvred you limbs like the good girl you were.

‘Yeah, a robot who brings you a coffee anywhere you want at the touch of a button. Come on, I’m taking you on an ice cream date, Tony’s set up our personal supply. I have the code & then I’ll tell you all about Gerald.’

‘Gerald?’

‘Yeah Gerald my coffee robot. He can be our coffee robot, I’ll put the app on your phone too.’

As he walked with you towards the kitchen wrapped around him like a little koala he suddenly didn’t care what was written about him, yeah the red flag thing once explained probably was true but when he had the personification of sunshine willing to eat ice cream & talk coffee robots & creepy spying friends he knew you didn’t think he was one & that’s all that mattered.

---

A/N – I kind of want the reader to think of Bucky as sweet & innocent when it comes to dating & sex, she doesn’t know the horny beast she will bring out in him until it’s unleashed on her which gives him free rein to flirt up a storm & make her flustered with her being clueless for what she’s in for, also, she isn’t innocent & clueless about sex at all she just underestimates her effect on Bucky.

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moonlitdesertdreams · 3 years

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Take care

Request: From Anon- can you do something where Batman saves the reader from getting hurt??? maybe on the streets or something idk- all you!

A/N: Thanks to the anon who sent me an ask and nudged me to write. This doesn't have a whole lot of fluff or angst (I know, very unlike me) but is just more a generic Bruce/Batman saves the reader and does Batman stuff.

Summary: Picking up clothes from the dry cleaner is supposed to be an easy chore, but this is Gotham and you're married to Bruce Wayne. You were a fool to think it'd be anything but interesting. F!reader x Bruce Wayne | Batman

Tags: Bruce Wayne x Reader, Bruce Wayne, Batman, The Batman, Battinson, DC Universe, fluff, Batman x Reader, Batman 2022, pattinson!batman, dc imagines, batman one-shot

WARNINGS: none, just some canon-typical violence and swearing (terrifying, am I right?)

Words: 2.5k+

Gotham’s shadows were more than dangerous.

Writhing in the dank alleyways and drowning in the never ending rain, they were alive. Filled with violence and treachery and brimming with evil intent.

You knew this, but it had sure as hell been a long time since you’d experienced it first hand.

Gagged and blindfolded, tied to the other patrons of the dry cleaners, you could only wait as time ticked by. You had pressed your emergency beacon connected to Bruce’s phone as soon as the masked men had entered, but now you had no way to monitor it. His words from that afternoon bounced around in your skull- ‘be careful’.

When you were first tied up, it was still too light for Batman to make his evening debut. However, quite some time had passed since then, even though you couldn’t currently gauge the level of light outside.

So, good news: it was only a matter of time before Batman would show up.

Bad news: your captors were beginning to search the wallets and purses they had collected.

On any other day, it probably wouldn’t matter. Your name was known, but most likely not enough to catch the attention of robbers. But today? Today was the one day you had to take Bruce’s credit card for all of the dry cleaning.

‘Damn. My card’s frozen.’

‘Take mine. It’s on the counter.’

And you knew without a doubt, that was going to stir up commotion. Muffled whimpers and pleas echoed around the room, while some sat in defiance, unwilling to bend a knee at the city’s poisonous inhabitants.

Your hand was held tightly in that of another woman; a young mother desperate to return home to her children who had begged for mercy when a gun was pressed to her head. Each time she shook with a new sob, you squeezed her hand and hoped it provided some sense of comfort despite the bleak situation.

“What the… this a joke?” You heard one of the men mutter aloud before footsteps paced around the counter.

“Jesus. Who’s pocketbook is that?”

Footsteps thundered towards your position, and the woman beside you squeezed your hand so tight you were sure it dislocated a few knuckles. Returning the gesture, another cry slipped around the gag in her mouth. Light flooded your eyes as the blindfold was torn from your face.

Fluorescent white lights were not ideal post-blindfold, and you squinted through the discomfort. Two black ski masks stared back with pupils dilated so wide you could practically smell the drops in them.

“This your pocketbook?” On your right side, the skinnier man waved it near your face.

“Sorry, I’m having a hard time adjusting, the lights are really bright.” You refused to play their game. You might not have been a masked vigilante, but you weren’t about to give into thieves and robbers terrorizing the public.

It gave you a brief moment to look past the storefront window. The sun had set, and the street in front was blocked by two police cars. Red and blue lights flashed through the downpour outside, and officers milled about outside, walking back and forth on the sidewalk behind ballistic shields. Taking note of the fully automatic guns set aside on the counter, your lip twitched.

“Stop playin’ games, lady. We know this is yours.” The skinny guy said, shoving the purse into your lap.

“And we know this is you.” Now speaking from your left side, the other robber held up his phone screen towards you, displaying a picture snapped by the paparazzi of Bruce and you leaving his birthday party two weeks prior. The headline read: ‘EXCLUSIVE: Our personal birthday interview with the mysterious Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Wayne.’

“I bet we could get a lotta cash for Bruce Wayne’s pretty little squeeze, ay?”

There it was. Biding time would be easier now- no way would they try and kill the hostage bringing value to their current situation.

“I’m not sure he likes me that much.”

Both men exchanged glances before standing up and skittering back to the counter. Your stomach dropped at their hushed voices. While you might be safe, it didn’t mean everyone else was. It was a few seconds before the men rushed back over, one now holding a gun from the counter.

The skinny guy hauled you to your feet, untying the rope restraining you to the others. “Come on, gorgeous. We’re gonna go talk to the pigs outside.”

As much as you’d like to put on a kung-fu show and beat them to a pulp- you didn’t know kung-fu, so that was out of the picture- there wasn’t much more you could do than allow them to lead you to the door. You prayed Bruce - Batman - was out there in the shadows, waiting for his moment to strike.

You were ushered through the door first, a pistol raising to your temple as skinny guy hunkered behind you. Guns were drawn from all directions, including the police. The aggression incited your captor to wrap an arm around your neck and press the barrel of his pistol more firmly into delicate skin. You breathed a sigh of relief as Lieutenant Gordon stepped from the midst of them, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Stand down, guys. Let him talk.” Gordon said your name before a soft look was cast in your direction. “Are you alright?”

“Never been better.” You managed. Nothing was visible beyond the spotlights on the GCPD cruisers. There were no shadows to examine for movement, and no way for you to seek out your possible savior.

“Good.” Gordon then locked eyes with your captor. “What do you want?”

He fumbled for a moment before tossing something towards Gordan. It took your eyes a moment to realize it was Bruce’s credit card, the metal pinging against concrete as it clattered to the ground at Gordon’s feet.

“Five million. A million for each of us. And this pretty thing goes home safe.” He trailed the gun down your cheek and against your jugular.

There was a moment where your tough-girl facade faltered and the terror you felt seemed to boil over, but you tried your damndest to hold a straight face. You felt the involuntary tug downwards near the corner of your mouth and heat flush your cheeks but refused to cry while Skinny was tossing you around like a ragdoll.

Gordon’s eyes fell to yours after looking at the card. You nodded, instinctively clutching at the arm around your neck. “My phone’s in there. He’ll answer.”

Now, if this were any other city, you were sure it would be a drawn-out conversation. The whole ‘we don’t negotiate’ line would undoubtedly be applied here, and you would be concerned the suspect would shoot you on the spot. But this was Gotham. To say criminals were catered to was an understatement. In spite of everyone’s best efforts, they still ran the city.

“Get us the phone.” The Lieutenant directed. “We’ll contact Mr. Wayne.”

Unable to filter words in your current mental state, you spoke. “Next thing you know he’s gonna want a helicopter out of the country.”

Not surprisingly, Skinny was upset by the ridicule.

“Didn’t ask for your comment, bitch!”

The gun swung towards your face faster than you could react, and it collided like a shotgun blast with your right eye. Stars spun in your vision and you squeezed your eyes shut to avoid any further disorientation. Commotion broke out then- yelling from inside of the cleaners and muttering from the police. Gordon shouted something about medical.

You weren’t absorbed enough in your injury to assume the chaos was all because of his swing at you, so you forced now-sore eyes open. A very different street stared back at you; cruiser lights flashed red and blue, but the fluorescent white glow from inside the store was gone.

Upon Skinny swinging around, you noticed the spotlights only illuminated a small section inside the store, reflected by dirty glass and unrelenting raindrops. Movement was visible, though Skinny guy’s shaky hold on your neck made it hard to pinpoint what was happening.

“The hell’s goin’ on?!” He yelled towards the building.

The bell jingled when the door squeaked open. You waited for the robbers to emerge, fearing the worst for the other hostages who were trapped inside. Throat thick with barely restrained emotion, you swallowed a sob.

Much to your surprise, it was the hostages who came out of the door, tripping and scrambling over each other to get away. They ran past you despite the gun still pressed to your head, beyond the safety of the police line.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Skinny guy yelled, jamming the pistol into your skull.

You yelped at the pressure, sure it would leave a goose egg there to compliment the black eye.

“Get me my fuckin’ money, or I swear to Christ I’ll blow her brains out!” His words were wild, shouted towards the police, who appeared just as confused as you.

“Let her go.”

Your head dropped in relief at the gravelly voice behind you. Skinny guy spun back towards the store, forcing you to stumble in an uncoordinated circle. Sure enough, perched on the sloping edge of the roof like a life-size gargoyle, was the Batman.

You were sure you’d never been more glad to see Bruce in the Bat suit before.

“Stay there, freak! You think I’m afraid to pull this trigger?”

It’s important to note: you have the same level of firearm expertise as you do kung-fu. Zero.

Nonetheless, you’d seen enough action movies to recognize the sound of a gun cocking. Especially one firmly placed to your head. An icy concoction of fear and panic surged in your veins, and you focused on the familiar shape of Bruce’s face underneath the mask. His head dipped in a miniscule nod.

“What do you want?” Batman asked.

The fear chewing on your psyche prompted tears to bubble over your eyes, and you instinctively clawed at the arm around your neck when it tightened.

“Money! What does anyone want in this fuckin’ city?” He waved the gun around wildly then, giving you a moment without the barrell against your face. “If people like this shared it, we wouldn’t be here!”

You still had Bruce pinned with your gaze, though your captor was jerking between him and Gordon.

“She’s not the problem.”

Cloaked in shadows, Batman crept to the edge of the roof. The tears were more readily dripping from your eyes now, a painful sting in the right one reminding you of the blow you’d already taken.

“You’re mad about money so you’re gonna kill an innocent woman to make up for it?” Gordon said.

You furrowed your brow, stumbling again as you were wrenched to face the Lieutenant. The jerking kicked your fear into hyperdrive, and a muffled sob made its way up your throat. Head pounding and heart dropped into your stomach, you tried to stay steady on the concrete beneath you.

“None of you can preach on what’s right!” Skinny yelled, stomping through puddles and potholes as he moved about wildly.

Gordon’s hands were still held up, and he stayed quiet, attempting to placate any rash decisions. When Skinny attempted to turn back towards Batman however, Gordon piped up again.

And then, your brain moving at half speed, it hit you. Bruce was smart, and allowing Gordon to take control was just a diversion; if you knew anything it was that Bruce’s obsession- addiction- to Batman would never allow someone else to take control of such a situation.

“-what I said! If I don’t have my money in the next twenty minutes, someone’s gonna be dead!”

A horrendous cracking sound filled your ears, and you were thrown to the ground as Skinny collapsed. Nothing was computing but escape, and you did a pitiful crabwalk away from your now-unconscious captor.

“Hey, hey-” Hands dipped beneath your armpits and tried to lift, but you jerked away as adrenaline flooded your body.

The sound of your name in a familiar voice shot through the fog like lightning, and you slowed down momentarily. Lifting your gaze, you found the Batman standing over you, green eyes frantically darting across your face.

Forcing yourself to swallow his name as it sat on the tip of your tongue, you simply allowed him to pull you to your feet. His gloved hand lifted to trace your throbbing eye socket, coming away with shimmery blood droplets. Gordon’s approach stopped the exchange from growing any more intimate, Bruce’s hand dropping from your face like a stone in water.

“Mrs. Wayne! Are you alright?”

The Lieutenant clasped your shoulder and draped you in a foil shock blanket before glancing back to where his officers were detaining Skinny. You managed to dip your head in a less than convincing affirmative manner, eyes still tracing the outline of Batman’s cowl. Familiar green peered back at you from dark sockets.

“Yeah, just shaken up.” Instead of continuing to stare down Bruce like a creep, you rotated to Gordon.

“Well, let’s have EMS get you checked out. That eye is gonna start bruising before you know it.”

The Lieutenant then exchanged a nod with Batman. “As always, thanks.”

Never having the opportunity to observe their relationship first hand, you smiled softly. Even as his alter-ego, it was nice to see Bruce appreciated. Even nicer to see him interacting with others, but that was aside the point.

“Same.” You chirped, catching both mens’ attention. “Nice to meet you, Batman.”

Much to your satisfaction, the faintest of blushes crept up his cheeks. “You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Ma’am?”

Paramedics were making an awkward approach, and Gordon waved them forward. You hugged the foil blanket close as they did and allowed the nearest to examine your face.

“Take care.”

You pulled away from the medic, but the Batman was gone. He’d vanished into the shadows of Gotham, leaving you with Lieutenant Gordon and two very-confused looking medics.

“He does that.” Gordon informed the three of you, “Let’s get you in the rig where it’s dry.”

A barrage of medical questions and a few very nervous ‘Mrs. Wayne’?’s later, you were signing paperwork with the paramedics and awaiting Gordon’s approval to leave. Gauze was taped to your cheek, and you held a soft gel icepack to the injured eye.

“I’ll get the boss over here for you.” The younger medic- Craig, he’d told you- took your signed paperwork and tucked it into the passenger seat. “Here’s your bag while you wait. One of the officers gave it to my partner.”

“Thank you, Craig.” He smiled brightly and climbed from the rig, leaving one door ajar.

And on a ledge protruding from a few buildings down, you swore a gargoyle was facing the rig. A very familiar, very lively looking gargoyle. You couldn’t help the wide smile that split your face, and lifted your fingers in the smallest of waves.

Buzzing from your bag made you glance down, and you pulled the offending cell phone from your purse.

Bruce: take care, mrs. wayne

Eyes lifting back to the darkness outside, they found the ledge vacant. Gordon chose that moment to appear, leaning into the truck door.

“Do you have someone you can call, Mrs. Wayne? I’ll be happy to get in contact for you.” Concern was evident on his face, and his fingers drummed on the doorframe

“Yeah, Lieutenant. I’ve got someone.”

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Masterlist | Send me ideas

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne #Batman #The Batman #Battinson #DC Universe #fluff #Batman x Reader #Batman 2022 #pattinson!batman #dc imagines #batman one-shot

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peterbarnes · 3 years

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Dating Jason Todd Would Include...

A/N: I am LOVING me some Jason Todd right now. Season 3 of Titans is so good, and I might start reading some Red Hood comics, especially since he might be getting a spin-off??

Btw I imagine this when he’s still robin, not red hood.

Masterlist

- first thing’s first, this man is a simp

- when he really likes someone, he doesn’t half-ass anything

- he thinks of himself as a fuck-up and he refuses to let himself ruin you

- which means you don’t know about his alter ego

- and he doesn’t let bruce anywhere near you

- but he’ll make up for those things in other ways

- he’ll go all out on dates

- stealing bruce’s credit card and taking you to the nicest restaurant in gotham

- or (more your guys’ style) sometimes you’ll take late night strolls through the park

- and eat the grossest food truck food you can find

- those are the nights where your laughter is constant

- his favorite nights, where he doesn’t want to go home

- he always thought everyone hated him, that there was just something wrong with him

- so to see you laughing so freely, loving him so freely, and being so happy

- it quite literally changed the way he saw everything

- he thought freedom was Robin? no freedom is loving you

- but he is part of the batfam, so it’s not all sunshine and rainbows

- his PTSD rages, especially at night

- but he never wants to talk about it- the fear, the nightmares

- you feel so in the dark and disconnected to him that it leads to your first fight

- Jason’s pretty impulsive and emotional so he leaves it all on the floor

- he tries to push you away, to tell you that he doesn’t really care about you, that he can’t trust you

- “You know what, just leave... fucking leave!”

- you didn’t talk for a week

- and every second of it Jason was beating himself up for the way he treated you

- he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat

- he even let bruce hold him as he broke down

- “I told myself that no matter what I did, I wouldn’t hurt her, I wouldn’t fuck this up. But I did, of course I fucking did!”

- the next time he saw you wasn’t exactly ideal

- he got alerted about a bank robbery with multiple hostages and took off in the batmobile

- he definitely didn’t expect you to be there, sitting on the floor all disheveled as duck tape covered your mouth

- at first he froze, he didn’t know what to do

- but as soon as the robber pressed a gun to your head, it was like he exploded

- he beat the guy’s ass so bad he was sent to the ICU

- and when he was done the first thing he did was run over to you to see if you were okay

- the mask may have covered some of his face, but his defining features were still the same

- his fluffy hair, sharp jawline, sad eyes

- he knew the second he knelt down in front of you that you recognized him

- he slowly took of the tape from your mouth and the first thing you said was his name

- you whispered it as you cupped his cheeks

- this boy burst into tears

- “I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it. I was trying to-to keep you out of everything... you deserve so much better than me”

- you pulled him away from all the reporters for some privacy and just held him

- “I know, Jay. I know”

- that was when you guys said your first I love you’s

- after that, and a lot of communication work, your guys’ relationship soars

- you’ll fully go up to him when he’s patrolling in full costume and pretend your a random fan who just needs to get a photo with him

- you have a full folder of hilarious selfies with a crime scene in the background

- and he’ll sneak up on you when you’re walking down the street

- “excuse me, ma’am, puddles can be quite dangerous, let me help you”

- and then when the night comes, and along with it the nightmares, he finally lets you take care of him

- because you made him realize that asking for help isn’t a bad thing, and it doesn’t make him weak

- “thank you, for everything. I love you so much, angel”

- “love you more, Jay”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #titans #curran walters #robin #robin x reader #batfam #batman

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collectionsofbitsandbops · 2 years

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Marvel characters as customers at my coffeeshop:

Basically been on my mind and so here are my thoughts. Obviously note these are my opinions. Typing this on my phone so excuse any mistakes.

Steve and Bucky: they both get drip coffee with cream and sugar. Since cream and sugar were rationed when they grew up its a treat that they get to have every morning. They tip and it took a while for them to figure out the whole credit card thing. They always say good morning and thank you. Overall a good customer and welcome regulars.

Sam: this man is the perfect customer. He likes to get the special or whatever the barista recommends. However if it's busy he will get a drip coffee since it takes less work. He always tips. Always calls you by your name. Asks how your day is going. Compliments your music or outfit. Best customer out there and favorite regular by far. Oh he also always offers to pay for his friends. He might even pay for the person behind him. Literally makes your day as soon as he enters the shop.

Natasha: never gets the same thing since she's a spy and is trained not to have a routine. Knew your name the first day without asking for it. It took you a moment to realize this. Cash only. Will tip and once stole the wallet of a man who refused to tip. A mysterious 100$ appeared in the tip jar.

Clint: like natasha he doesn't have a regular. Will use your name and asks how you are. The creepy guy who hit on you never showed up after you informed Clint it in passing once. Sometimes orders pastries to bring home.

Tony: a busy man who gets the largest cold brew. Doesn't really talk. It's more of a nod, you ring him up, he pays, and leaves. He's usually on his phone. Would be annoying but he tips well and if someone new is there he introduces himself and what he orders. He's a regular you can count on to be polite and simple.

Bruce: shows up Monday morning at opening for a cup of coffee and to order a bag of beans. He makes himself coffee at home for the rest of the week. Super polite and honestly a great first customer for the start of the shift. However if you're a minute late he will mention it.

Thor: so excited to try everything and also wants to learn about it. Asks the difference between espresso and drip. Has tried everything and keeps note of what he likes and doesn't like. Also likes to order for his friends. A lively customer who is a great tester for your new specials. Sometimes too much energy for when you are having a bad day. But he often noticedls this and buys you a pastry in hopes it makes you feel better.

Loki: the type to order a pourover and peer over the counter to make sure you get it right. Will have you remake a drink if it does not satisfy him. Great taste but terrible customer. Oh also offended at how little money baristas are paid and makes a point to tip really well. He mentions how even the servents of asgard get paid more and better benefits. Also has stolen from customers who don't tip. The only reason he's not banned from the shop is because the tip jar is filled each time he comes in. Sometimes even with random things like jewelry or magical objects.

Peter Parker: doesn't take too much caffeine. Gets a tea or lemonade. Sometimes food. Usually comes after school with friends to study. Apologizes about being too rowdy but honestly they aren't too bad. Aks you a bunch of questions and shares cool facts. Always cleans up and tucks in the chairs afterwards. Personally I would love him and would sneak him a bunch of treats and discounts.

#avengers headcanon #steve rogers headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #tony stark headcanon #natasha romanoff headcanon #clint barton headcannon #loki headcanon #thor headcanon #peter parker headcanon #coffeeshop au #literally just my opnion #bruce banner headcanons #sam wilson headcanon

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romanoffsbish · 3 years

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Die for You

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Y/N's POV

"Nat, my love, you should take a break, come have dinner with me." I gently plead to my stubborn girlfriend.

"No, I have all this paperwork to do, I can't just drop everything, just because you want me to eat with you." Nat coldly replies.

"Sweetheart, your paperwork will still be here in an hour. You need to eat, all you've had today was toast and a handful of almonds."

"Just because you don't take mission reports seriously doesn't mean I can do the same." She replies, slowly raising her voice.

"Nat, that's not true, and it's also not fair. Just come —."

"Y/N! Just shut the fuck up! I'm not going to stop what I'm doing to just eat some dinner with you. I'm so tired of you and your clingy-ness. God, Bruce was never this clingy. Do me a favor and just leave me the hell alone." Nat shouts at me, never even turning to look at me.

Ouch

"Will do." I coldly reply, not allowing my feelings to be obtainable to her. I harden my features, and leave before my resolve fails.

I shut the door calmly, even if all I wanted to do was disturb her peace and slam the door. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.

I walk away completely stunned, but refusing to break down while still in the compound. As I approach our shared room, I'm essentially on auto pilot, I grab my duffle bag and fill it with my essential belongings—I pack enough for at least a week. I take my promise ring off, and slam it down on the bedside table, then I take off—destination unknown.

Nat's POV

After Y/N left I focused on my paperwork, and after about two hours I'd finished. I was cleaning up, and then I felt my stomach rumbling—I was hungry. As I went to leave my office there was a bag with takeout in it hanging on my door. Then it all hit me... I yelled at her, I let my stress overwhelm me and took it out on her.

I also lied, I am not tired of her clingy-ness, it's actually my favorite thing in the world.

The morning cuddles she suffocates me in every morning.

The way she clings to me for hours when one of us returns from a mission.

The kiss that takes place after the kiss that was supposed to be the 'last one.'

I love every bit of her clingy, it's like my lifeline. Her touch is something I crave at almost every moment of the day.

She is my comfort

Oh God... I compared her to Bruce, when there's no comparison to be made. He was never around enough to be clingy...

Not that I mind, because our failed relationship is what led me to her.

I really fucked up this time, I broke like every rule I've ever set for us.

I yelled, I lied, I insulted her, and most importantly I made her sad.

I no longer felt the pain of hunger, I instead felt a wave of guilt wash over me. All I could do was run to our room to try to fix this. It might be 12AM, but I just need to fix it, awake or not I want to hold her.

"Y/N, baby are you awake?" I whisper into the darkness of our room.

"Moya lyubov, I just want to apologize..."

"Detka, please.. I know it's my fault, but please don't ignore me." I plead

As I approach the bed I realize it's still perfectly made, and as I reach for Y/N my suspicions are confirmed because she's not there.

"Friday! Where's Y/N?" I frantically question.

"Miss Y/L/N left at 10:15PM and instructed me to not allow anyone access to her location unless it's Fury." The AI replies.

Shit... I'd go looking myself but she's too smart for me to find. She's usually two steps ahead of me, which is also why her paperwork wasn't a stress for her.

I just have to give her a night to cool off...

I'm not going to get an ounce of sleep though, I never sleep well when she's gone. My lack of ability to sleep is intensified whenever I'm not sure of where she is, tripled when it's my fault.

Y/N's POV

So, I drove two towns over, used a secret credit card of mine, and checked into a hotel that's conveniently located across from a bar...

"Cheers!" I shout for the tenth time as I clink my full shot glass with my empty ones.

"Ma'am, you didn't drive right?" The bartender questions me.

"I did, but I'm staying across the street." I reply with a giggle as I'm stacking the shot glasses to form a tower.

"Well it's nearing closing time, and I'm going to need you to stop that before we have a me—."

*Crash*

"Oops... I'm sorry sir." I hiccup out, with a pout to accompany it.

"Just go please, and stay safe." The poor bartender says to me as he stares at me with pity in his eyes, while also handing me a bottled water.

So, I'm maybe reacting to this situation a little too hastily. She yelled, and now I'm drunk...

However, she knows my past, and how broken I was, then she broke me too...

�� ————— 5 Years Ago—————

"Y/N! Wake the fuck up! You ungrateful little bitch!" Lila shouts at me

It's literally 5AM...

"I'm up my love! What do you need?" I genuinely ask.

"Stop kissing my ass and maybe actually do something for once! Here's your list for today."

It's not like I'm a SHIELD agent or anything

"I'm sorry, I'll get it all done for you." I usher out, trying to avoid any further yelling.

"You better! I'll be home late tonight, the house better be spotless." She states monotonously with a hardened gaze.

"Of course, I love you baby.."

Then the door slams...

————— 2AM—————

"Hey slut! Wake up, and tell me, why is there clothing strewn all over the floor?" Lila shouts at me as she stumbles towards the bed.

"Well, that would be because you just took them off." I groan, having no fight left in me.

"Watch your tone! You can pick them up, I'm going to bed."

"I'll get it in the morning." I tiredly mumble.

"No! You'll do it now. You are so lazy and ungrateful! I give you everything and you give me nothing. You're worthless Y/N, absolutely worthless. You'll never be good enough, that's why I have been sleeping with Marcus. You can't even service me right anymore. Get out!" She venomously snaps at me, bubbling with bouts of irrational anger. She ends her rant with a brutal kick to my ribs, knocking the wind out of me as I fall to the floor.

————— Present —————

Lila and I obviously broke up after that incident, I had finally had enough, plus Nat also found out and practically packed my bags for me.

Nat and I had been friends for years, so she was furious with herself for never putting the pieces together. I reassured her over and over again that it wasn't her fault but that didn't stop her from blaming herself anyways.

I was tired of always being the victim, especially when I had the ability to defend myself. I just found myself believing all of the shit Lila spewed out at me. I'd heard all my life how worthless I was between my father, mother, and well Lila.

It took Nat two years to even be able to begin to breakdown my walls. Loving her seemed easy enough, but trusting her to hold my heart was absolutely terrifying, most definitely the hardest thing I've had to do—and I've fought aliens.

Six months into us dating she had decided to give me a promise ring.

————— 2.5 Years Ago—————

"Detka, can you come here please?" Nat sweetly called out to me from her bed.

"Coming." I shout from the restroom as I'm getting ready for our date.

"Wow... Baby, I don't know if we'll be making it to dinner." Nat says in a seductive tone, as she grips my waist and pulls me closer.

I chuckle and roll my eyes in response.

"Sit!" She asserts playfully.

I sit down and turn to face her, mirroring her position.

"So, I know we said no gifts for this anniversary, but this is more a promise so it doesn't even count as a gift. Y/N, I've loved you for far longer than I've been fortunate enough to have you. So it's easy for me to promise you that I'll love you until our final days. I vow to protect you, and to never harm you. I promise to remind you just how wonderful you are everyday. To remind you how beautiful you are when you don't see it for yourself. I've waited a lifetime to find a love like yours, and I'll do everything in my power to preserve it. You are everything to me detka! "

She nervously ushers out on the verge of tears. Seemingly afraid that I'll react defensively and make a run for it.

I knew her heart, so I knew she truly believed in her words, so I took the leap of faith.

I reached my hand out to cup her cheek, then to direct her face so our eyes were locked on one another. Then I sent her a reassuring smile, then leant in to give her a sweet kiss.

"Thank you Tasha, I know you wouldn't want me to be, but I'm thankful anyways. I love you, Natty."

Then I reach my right hand out allowing her to slip the ring on. Then she pulls me up excitedly.

"Of course detka, I love you! Now let's go eat!"

————— Present —————

So last night's 'fight,' and the way she yelled, and the words she said all sent me spiraling. I fall into a restless sleep, as all the good and bad memories of my past replay in my mind.

Nat's POV

I woke up to the bright sun peeking into my room, I'm normally an early riser, so 6AM isn't usually rough for me. Today though, it's rough seeing as how I only fell asleep at 4:45AM. My mind kept repeating the 'fight' last night, the one where I yelled at the best thing that's ever happened to me. All she tried to do was take care of me, and I sent my only sense of comfort right out the door.

I rolled over to grab my phone, hoping Y/N replied to one of my 50+ voice memos and texts. Then as I went to do so, I saw the sun rays reflecting off something on the bedside table—Y/N's ring... The sight caused my stomach to drop, and I knew I had to find her this instant. So I do what I can and take off to find the man who can find her.

"Fury!" I shout, slamming his office door open not even giving a single shit if he's busy or not.

"No, Romanoff, go away! Whatever you did, it's on you to fix it."

"Sir, please. I messed up big time and I need to fix it. She'll only talk to you right now. Please, send us on a mission or something. I just need her back and I can't do it on her timeline." I frantically usher out.

My state has clearly piqued his interest. He's never seen me in a state of desperation before, but that's exactly where I've been since I saw the ring.

"Are you sure a mission is a smart idea with all the obvious tension?" He questions.

"Fury, come on, Y/N and I have never allowed our personal issues to jeopardize a mission and you know that. We literally took a hydra base down while in the midst of an argument."

"Fine, but you better fix it! I will not hesitate to bench you. Y/N doesn't deserve any of this." He commands.

He's right, she doesn't...

Y/N's POV

*Ring*

Ow... I lazily reach out for my phone, not even bothering to open my eyes.

"Hello?" I question in a groggy state.

"Agent Y/L/N. Lovely to hear your voice. I need you at headquarters within the day. You and Agent Romanoff have a mission to gather intel in an abandoned hydra base." Fury commands.

"Shh... Lower please." I cringe.

"Are you drunk agent?" He humorously questions.

"No, just hungover." I whine.

"Well, drink some fluids and make your way here."

"Of course sir, see you soon."

I slowly sit up and chug the bottle of water the bartender gave me last night.

I got up to shower, as I wreak of Vodka.

It's literally seeping out of my pores.

As I let the hot water trickle down my body I have a moment of clarity.

Natasha clearly set this mission in motion, and now I'm going to be forced to sit on the jet with her.

She's trapping me.

———-

"Agent Y/L/N!" Hill greets me with a nod.

"Agent Hill." I reply in the same manner.

As we approach Fury's office I see her, she's anxiously awaiting my arrival, already in her suit.

"Oh my gosh, detka!" Nat shouts as she begins to approach me.

I send her a glare, and as I do I can't help but see the ring on a chain around her neck. A further reminder of exactly why I'm so mad, and why I'm so hurt.

She tries to touch me, to get any contact she can, but I brush her off and take a step back.

Hill clears her throat, trying to dissipate some of the tension surrounding us.

"Fury's waiting in his office for you two to give an overview." She states, before booking it to get away from us.

"Baby..." Nat whimpers

"Natasha stop it. Not now! We have a mission, we can potentially talk after." I command, sending her an emotionless stare.

Nat gives me a defeated nod and holds the door open for me.

Fury gave us the run down, and to my dissatisfaction it's a five hour jet ride.

As soon as the doors closed I took Nat's appearance in, and she looks rough.

"Y/N/N..." Nat tries to start as soon as the quinjet takes off.

"No Nat! I need to focus, as do you." I growl out.

She sighs and slumps into her seat and that gives me an uneasy feeling. I might be furious with her, but I obviously love her deeply. The last thing I need is her being off her game due to sleep deprivation.

"Natasha, come here." I sigh out in frustration.

She looks at me confused, but she doesn't hesitate to make her way over.

"Sleep." Is the only thing I say, ushering her to lay across the seats next to me.

She freezes, but after thirty seconds she gives in. I pull her head into my lap, and throw my arm over her.

As soon as my arm rests on her I can feel her whole body relax and within five minutes she's fast asleep.

Holding her in my arms makes me want to forgive her, because I don't sleep well without her either. If not for the massive amounts of alcohol I consumed last night I wouldn't have gotten more than an hour or two.

One thing I know for sure is I don't want us to be over, I just need her to take a step back and decide if she wants the same or if maybe she's just kept me around for the familiarity.

——

Nat and I just landed the quinjet, and put it in incognito mode.

As we approach the base I can feel Nat's stare boring into me.

"Y/N."

I hum in response

"Please, just give me a few minutes."

I roll my eyes, but then turn to face her, giving in.

"Go on."

Nat's POV

I sigh in relief, I couldn't be more grateful, I couldn't allow a mission to go on with this unsaid. Even if it's meant to be easy, life's too unpredictable.

"I'm sorry, like insanely sorry. I was stressed and yelled at you. I lied to you too, because I love everything about your clingy. I promised you I'd never hurt you and I seem to have broken all my promises, and in turn I seem to have broken you as well. I don't expect you to forgive me right now, hell I wouldn't want it. I certainly don't forgive me. You're my comfort, without you I have nothing and that's on me for pushing you out the door. I just need to know if you're still mine. When I saw your ring on the table this morning I about damn near threw up. The thought of losing you is daunting, like my absolute worst nightmare. You're too good to me Y/N, you let me nap on you on the way here. I basically broke you, and you still take care of me. I yelled at you last night, and before you left you still got me food. I love you Y/N/N, and no matter what, that will never change. If I could take last night back I would. I'd have had that dinner with you. I'd have held you in my arms as well fell asleep, and woke you up with kisses this morning."

Y/N walks over to me and pulls me into her and places her forehead against mine.

"Nat, I'm still yours, I'm not going anywhere. I'm also not really ready to just forgive you yet either. You really hurt me last night and you unraveled a lot. We can talk more after the mission. Now, let's go." Y/N reassures me.

Y/N's POV

I wasn't and I'm still not fully ready to forgive her, but being on a mission always puts everything into perspective.

So I'll baby step it, because in the end she's not Lila and I'm not Bruce.

"Ready?" Nat asks me while at the door of the presumed empty base.

"Always." I reply with a wink.

She kicks the door in and my senses are blaring. Everything inside me is saying we should turn around.

As Nat's working on downloading the data I just can't shake this terrible feeling like we're not alone.

"Nat, this doesn't feel right." I whisper to her as I stand guard.

"Relax detka, it's almost done. We should be just fine." She tries her best to reassure me.

I heard a weird noise to my left, and I immediately turned to the sound.

I get a glimpse of what appears to be half a dozen hydra agents making a break for it.

Abandoned my ass

"Shit." I whisper to myself, trying not to alert Nat.

I step out and try to get an idea of what they're doing. That's when one tries to sneak attack me from the right, only to be met with a dagger to the throat.

Nat comes out and sees him there, and sends a glare my way.

"Y/N, you should've told me we had company." Nat growls.

"I had it handled, let's go, there's at least a half a dozen more." I bite back.

We start to head towards the exit and we're so damn close.

"Fury's getting an earful when we get back." Nat grumbles.

I just chuckle lightly in response, and keep close to her, keeping my hand on her lower back as I practically push her out.

Our luck ran out as the five remaining hydra agents launch out at us. Natasha instantly gets to taking two out with her widow bites. Then she shoots them point blank in the head. Meanwhile, I shove a dagger into one's temple, then I shoot the other in the head.

Then I look up to see the last agent having the upper hand, with his gun pointed at my beautiful redhead as she's facing me.

I waste no time as I throw her to the side, and as I go to throw my dagger at him he is shooting me in the abdomen.

My final dagger hits him in his heart, and I fall to my knees while clutching my stomach.

"No!"

"Get up detka!"

“Lyubov’ , we have to get you out of here."

I vaguely hear Nat shouting at me, everything is currently spinning. I feel a force lift me off the ground, and then next thing I feel is my bareback to the metal medical table in the jet.

Nat's POV

"Friday! Autopilot us to the nearest hospital!" I shout frantically, while attempting to stop the blood that's gushing out of Y/N's abdomen.

"Hey! You do NOT get to die!!!! You can't leave me Y/N/N. I can't do this life without you." I can't help but shout at her

"Hey, don't yell at me." She pouts in response, in a state of delirium.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm just scared. You've lost a lot of blood. I can't go on without you by my side, don't you understand that?!. Why?? Why did you do that?"

"Baby, shh. It's okay!!! No way was I letting you get hurt Natty. You're not allowed to die, I made the rule up in the moment." Y/N mumbles.

"This isn't a joke Y/N. You don't get to die either! So you better fight, you better hold on. Please hold on for me my love."

"It's okay... I love you Natty."

"Nothing about this is okay Y/N... God, this is all my fault. I promised I'd never hurt you and everything I did led us to this moment."

"Stop calling me that." She pouts dramatically, if she wasn't sort of bleeding out I'd be melting at the sight.

"Detka, stop talking, save your energy." I plead.

"You're worth it Natasha Romanoff, I'd die for you in a heartbeat if it meant you got to keep going. Promise me you'll keep going, even if I don't make it. The world needs you. Also, please hear me when I say that this isn't your fault. You yelling at me last night isn't the reason a hydra agent shot me. Don't draw that conclusion, don't overthink it Natty." Y/N ushers out in a daunting state of clarity.

"Live for me instead!" I command while placing a kiss to her temple and rushing her into the hospital as the jet lands.

That sounded too much like a goodbye, and that's the last thing we're doing today.

—————————————————————

3,882 words.

… Live For Me (Part 2)

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasharomanoffpov #natasharomanoffxyn #gxg #natasharomanoff #black widow #black widow pov #black widow x y/n

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spilledkauffie · 3 years

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Imposter

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Female!Reader Word Count: 3.4k T/W: bullying, negative thoughts, & anxiety // fluff A/N: you know the drill: vent fic ignore me

(P.S., please don't read if it will trigger you)

Bruce Wayne taglist // @christianbalefanatic

The penthouse was glittering. Glass walls and sparkling chandeliers reflected the city’s skyscraper lights pouring in from each window surrounding the place. It looked as if you’d stepped into a whole new world, society, and reality—

Three days ago, you were more excited than ever when Bruce told you to go out and get the most expensive dress you could find for a social event he had to attend for Wayne Enterprises. Immediately you took the credit card he offered and headed downtown, Alfred dropped you off in the shopping district, and you were off. After hours of looking, you didn’t get the most expensive one, but it was certainly the most beautiful one you saw and more expensive than anything you’d ever owned. You couldn’t stop smiling when Alfred picked you up from the store’s curb.

“Find what you were looking for, miss?” Alfred kindly asked, softly smiling in his rearview mirror, glad to see the glowing expression on your face.

“Oh yes,” you said through your smile, “it’s the perfect one, Alfred, the perfect one!”

Properly wrapped and hidden inside gold paper, you kept it on your lap the entire ride back to the manor, and simply refused to let Bruce see it until the big night of the event. You wouldn’t even let him get ready in the same room as you, wanting it to be entirely a surprise. Which made it all the more hilarious when you had to call down the hall for him to bring you your lipstick, with only your head peeking out of the door.

“You left it in the bedroom,” Bruce said with a smirk, free hand covering his eyes, per your request, as he approached the door, holding out the lipstick to you.

“Thank you,” you giggled, taking it.

“At least now I know a shade you’ll have on, that’s something for me to match,” he commented, “if I’m lucky it'll be the only thing.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door, glad he didn’t see the smile across your face, otherwise you might not have been going to the party at all.

It was a matter of moments and you were walking down the manor stairs, you felt stunning. Maybe it was the “Miss, you truly are a star,” from Alfred who stood near the front door. Or maybe it was the smile from Bruce as he took your hand, helping you down the last few steps, whispering, “you didn’t tell me it was in black,” but you felt on top of the world.

“Shall I warm the car, sir?” Alfred asked, taking his keys with a knowing smile as he looked at the two of you.

“Yes, please,” Bruce said, butAlfred was already out the door. “And you,” he stopped before you reached the front door,” there’s something I want to give you.”

“You’re sure it can’t wait until after the party?” you half smirked, raising your eyebrows; you never knew what to expect with your “playboy” boyfriend.

“No,” He softly laughed, reaching into his coat pocket, “actually it’s for the party.”

Furrowing your eyebrows out of curiosity, you watched him pull out a rectangle box covered with black velvet. He paused to smile at you, not a flirty smile, not an ‘I bought you something smile,’ but a soft smile, almost sentimental. As he opened the box, you gasped, taking a step back, and clasping a hand over your mouth.

“Bruce,” you whispered, knitting your eyebrows together, looking up at him with sheer emotion, “your mother’s pearls?”

He smiled again, with a chuckle at your response, and nodded, “I was hoping. . . you’d wear them tonight.”

“I-I can’t,” you shook your head, feeling a few tears well in your eyes at his intimate and special gesture, “they’re yours, your mothers, and-“

“And I insist,” he took the string of pearls from their box and held them up, tilting his head as if simultaneously asking and waiting for you to turn around. Lips parting, you met his eyes to make sure he was okay with it, before slowly turning around and lifting your hair off your shoulders. You swallowed, feeling the cool pearls against your skin. Bruce finished it off with a kiss to the nape of your neck, and touching your hands to let you know you could let your hair back down.

Still holding one of your hands in his as you turn back around, he kisses the top of your knuckles softly, “stunning.”

“Not so bad yourself, Mr. Wayne,” you leaned against his shoulder, as he escorted you towards the door.

On your way to the penthouse, you leaned forward a little to see out the window and take in the lights of Gotham at night. Bruce watched you with a subtle smile on his lips and an adoration in his eyes for how much you loved the simple things despite the life he could afford for you. Your hand rested gently in his the whole ride there, occasionally after you gasped or said “wow, look at those lights” to one of the buildings, Bruce would stroke the top of your hand with his thumb, making you look over to him and ask “what?” softly, only for him to answer, “nothing,” with a shake of his head.

Upon the arrival to the party, Alfred opened the door for you. Bruce was already outside waiting to take your hand in his and help you out, it was the first time in your life you actually felt like a princess arriving at a ball. Putting on a smile, you were met with paparazzi the moment your hand met Bruce’s. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and guided you towards the door of the high-end apartment. Giving a necessary half-hearted wave here and there to the cameras. Opening the door for you, he settled his hand against the small of your back, as he walked with you.

Inside the elevator, you were biting your lip and slightly bouncing on your heels, “excited?” Bruce asked with a smirk, he forgot for a moment that you weren’t used to these events.

“Yes,” you nodded looking him over, “I hope I actually qualify to attend,” you teased, “do they kick you out if you weren’t born in a master bedroom?”

Bruce laughed, pushing a strand of hair out of your face, “no,” he leaned in, kissing you sweetly, “and you qualify for anything and everything you attend.”

Smiling, you relaxed against him, taking a deep breath as the doors slid open with a silvery ding. You were met with glass walls practically surrounding the entirely penthouse. There were chandeliers hanging. One would have amazed you, but three stunned you, so much so that your jaw actually dropped and you froze. It wasn’t until Bruce took a step forward that you closed your mouth and cleared your throat remembering that you were Bruce Wayne’s date, you couldn’t screw this up or you’d make him look bad. Bruce had told you to just be yourself, but there was still a pressure you felt, unsure of where it was coming from since you were so excited to just have fun.

Walking through the room, you watched the sparkling champagne glasses and the city light reflect like starlight against the windows and the beautiful black marble floor, making it look like you were walking on the night sky. Smiling as you looked down, you almost giggled at how amazed you were, when Bruce suddenly said your name, introducing you to some higher-ups of Wayne Enterprises and their significant others. You nodded, smiled, and shook hands with several people, genuinely excited to meet them all, hoping maybe some friendships would form with some of the younger partners you met.

Seeing all the beautiful dresses and suits on everyone made you feel like you were in a whole other world than the one you were used to. Bruce left your side for a moment, telling you he’d be right back. Making a slow circle to take in everything around you, a smile was on your face the whole time.

Bruce came up behind you, reaching a glass in front of you, “your drink, ma’am.”

“Oh,” you took it, turning to find him closer than you thought, “thank you,” you whispered, looking up through your eyelashes.

“Are you having fun?” Bruce also lowered his voice, as you took a sip.

“I am,” you nodded, “everything here is so beautiful-“

“Yes it is,” Bruce smiled.

“Stop,” you playfully tapped his chest, looking around for a moment hoping he wouldn’t notice your blush.

“I’m serious,” he chuckled, taking your wrist and kissing the inside of it before placing another small kiss to the side of your neck.

You giggled softly, as he pulled back. With that both your attentions were drawn to someone calling Bruce’s name.

“Ah, be right there,” he said routinely lifting his glass to acknowledge them, before turning to you in a low voice, “I can’t stand this company, I’d rather leave you out of this, they’re almost unbearable.”

“Ohhh okay,” you nodded and stayed where you were as he left your side.

Taking another sip from your glass, you saw a familiar face, newly familiar, but still. The wife of someone you met earlier was passing your direction. Waving towards her, you saw her perk an eyebrow and snarl up her lip as she averted her gaze, continuing to walk right past you. Suddenly you felt an embarrassment, what were you doing waving like a child at such an event? With that, you quickly lowered your hand, subtly acting like you were flattening out your dress. Looking down you tried to tell yourself that it was okay, surely everyone hadn't seen you do that, and maybe she was just not that compatible with you.

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and tried to let it roll off your shoulder. You weren’t going to wave again, you told yourself, moving on. But as you did, whispers carried to you.

“Who even is she?” A waspish voice asked. “I have no idea,” someone responded, “where on earth did Bruce find her?”

You swallowed harshly, blinking to yourself as the voices from behind you continued.

“Have you heard of her before?” The voice almost sounded like it was scoffing at you, “I certainly haven’t.”

“Did she go to an ivy league school with him or something?”

“Do you just think he’s treating a one night stand? I mean, look at her, she’ll be gone by tomorrow. That can't be the face of Mrs. Wayne,” suddenly there was a shrill sound of laughter that sounded like a mixture of bracelets rattling together and practiced laughs to cover up their real ones.

You tried to keep it together, wanting to move, but you didn’t know where to go. If you turned around you’d only see their judgement, but at the same time Bruce said he’d be right back, and you certainly didn’t want to get lost in this kind of crowd without him.

“By the looks of her she’s probably just trying to get into the trust fund,” a low voice spoke, looking up you saw two men chatting with clenched teeth as they tried to keep their smiles on, “look at those pearls, like she could really afford them. Such a little imposter.”

“Bruce had better have her sign a prenup,” they exchanged glances with a hum of agreement, "she'll no doubt spend it all."

You lifted your hand, fingertips touching the pearls after hearing their comments. You wanted to interject and explain how much they meant to you to even be wearing them, how honoured you were to wear them, but the condescending duo moved on and you lost them amidst the glamorous crowd. You were trying to be anyone you weren’t, but now you were self conscious.

Stroking the pearls, you silently apologised to Bruce’s mother, you didn’t want this kind of attention and you certainly didn't mean to give this impression. Walking only a few steps away to see if you could find Bruce, you heard a final comment as you passed more people.

“Who wants to guess her dress size?” Reaching a hand to your waistline, you suddenly regretted the dress you picked out. Why did I think this was at all flattering? It didn’t help that it was followed by an outburst of laughter, “and that hair is so two years ago, clearly she’s not-“

Before you could hear anymore, you found a secluded corner. Downing the last of your bubbly drink, you wrung your hands around the thin glass, staring down at it, you could see your reflection in it. Suddenly you hated everything about the party, yourself. . .it all felt like too much, and there was nowhere to go. Everyone had assumptions, but they wouldn’t let you explain, and it’d look pathetic if you did. You knew it shouldn’t get to you, you knew Bruce would think you're being weak, but—

“There you are," a soft voice spoke, "I’ve been looking for you."

You hiccuped, looking up with teary eyes, the tears ready to fall at any moment. Bruce’s expression instantly shifted from playful to protective. He even rested an arm against the wall to try and shield you from anyone’s sight.

“What happened?” He asked, voice serious, eyebrows furrowed, "Are you okay?"

“I just—“ you tried to begin, but would up looking down, breathing felt hard, “how um. . . how long do these parties usually last?” You asked without glancing up.

“However long you want it to,” Bruce answered.

“Can we. . . go home then?” You asked in the softened tone, but began to panic, “or just send me home, or I'll even wait in the car or I could catch a cab if you don't want to be seen with me.”

Your voice turned more and more strained as you spoke, wringing the champagne glass tighter and tighter. Bruce set a hand on top of yours, worried you might break it and hurt yourself. It only caused you to look further away, staring at the floor, entirely embarrassed.

“Look at me,” Bruce requested calmly and quietly, he waited a moment, but eventually you did, when you felt you could look at him without crying. He looked you over and said, “let’s go home.”

Nodding you set the glass down on the nearest table and wrapped your arms around the one he offered, both hands clinging to him as he made his way through the crowd back to the lift that brought you up.

“Leaving so soon, Bruce?” An elderly voice asked, shocked.

“Well, it’s not easy running a company and keeping company,” Bruce said in his facade tone, "wears you out."

“Aww, Bruce,” the familiar woman stepped in front of you, “leaving already? You’re the life of the party,” she pouted, “and you always give us such things to gossip about.” She glared at you, but you quickly returned your gaze to the ground, not wanting to cry right there with her attention on you.

“Yes, I’m sure I do, this suit is so out of fashion I’ll be getting free magazine subscriptions from your dad’s company. And since you’re the secretary, I’ll count on it,” Bruce said, “I should really let her dress me more often, I’m a complete mess on my own.”

With a nod, Bruce sidestepped her and walked into the lift, casually hitting the down arrow. You let go of his arm, crossing your hands in front of yourself as if hugging your frame. You tried to breathe slowly. Looking up towards the ceiling, you tried not to cry, desperately. With quivering lips, you held your breath.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, watching you concerned.

“Nothing,” you began, sniffling a little, “nothing happened. . ., except proof that I don’t belong here, or in this crowd, or on your arm. After all, I’m just after the trust fund.”

“What are you—“ Bruce began but stopped when you turned to him.

“They’re all saying it. I wasn’t born into this society, I’ll never be able to prove that I’m not just sleeping with you for your fortune and titles. I don’t know the latest shoes to wear or hairstyles to have. I do my hair myself which is like a crime. I'm clearly a nobody because I don’t have an Ivy League degree,” you stopped to breathe, “I’m not the right dress size, and I don’t look the part, so why try to be it?”

Bruce didn’t speak, he just looked at you, heartbroken that you were feeling this way. He knew how this society could be, he just never expected you to have to face it all at once and alone, he blamed himself for leaving your side.

“I’m not pretty enough, I look pathetic trying to be, in this ridiculous dress, I don’t know why I thought this was a good pick, and- and,” you stuttered, frustratedly reaching behind your neck, “I'm an embarrassment and a disgrace to your name and I don’t deserve your mother’s pearls—“

“Hey, hey, now hang on,” Bruce reached for your arms, quickly, but gently, pulling them away from behind your head.

You didn't look away this time, obvious that tears were already streaming down your cheeks. He could feel you shaking, as he rubbed up and down your arms.

“Just. . . hang on,” he repeated soothingly.

Taking a few deep breaths, you built up your courage to speak again, “I don’t deserve this kind of life, I don't deserve you, and you don’t deserve the kind of responses you’ll get being seen with me. You deserve any of the girls in that room, up there. They’d be much better for you-”

“Only if you believe hypocrisy and false advertising is good for me,” Bruce said, drawing your attention, “don’t you see now why I love you so much?”

You stare blankly at him, confused, you just listed all the reasons he shouldn’t be with you.

“You’re not like them,” he said, “you’re real and genuine. Not some kind of cookie cut character for the next rich boy to set his eyes on. I love you because you’re not from this facade driven world, I spent my whole life trying to get out of it, and I found you when I did. This isn’t me, this isn’t what I value, you know that,” Bruce wiped your rolling tears away with his thumb, “you’re the greatest treasure I have the honour of being with, and you are every bit deserving of those pearls. My mother would be proud to see you wearing them.”

Your eyebrows knit instinctually as you began to feel more tears welling. Wrapping his arms around you, he cradled the back of your head as you tightly hugged him.

“And look at that, you’re the perfect size, you fit right in my arms,” Bruce spoke against your temple, kissing your forehead, “nothing they said is true, and nothing you told yourself because of what they said is true either. You're perfect, as you are," you pulled back and Bruce took his pocket handkerchief and dabbed your cheeks to clean up the makeup stains, "but you know. . . if you tell me who said what, I’m sure I could get my powerful friend on the job.”

”I love you,” you managed a smile, shaking your head, as the elevator brought you back to ground level.

“I love you more,” he gave a sigh, “I’m sorry I left you, I promise I’ll never let it happen again.”

You nodded, silently thanking him, “Oh no,” you worried again, “I got makeup on your suit and I look like a mess,” you gestured to your smudged eyeliner, "there’ll be paparazzi, I don’t want them to think—“

Bruce suddenly stepped closer to you, caressing the side of your neck in his palm, he tilted your head back just enough for him to kiss your open mouth. His other hand reached behind you to let down your half up hairstyle. Melting into the moment, you didn’t even realise what he was doing, you were just happy to be feeling loved. He loosened his tie and proudly wore the stain your lipstick had given him.

You were about to say something when the elevator rang again, “let them think whatever they want.” Bruce smiled, "I'm happier than I've ever been with you, smudges and all."

You smiled, and took your arm in his again.

“Oh, and by the way,” Bruce looked to you, “about the dress.”

A flash of concern came over you as you met his gaze.

“It’s beautiful,” he smiled, leaning closer, “but I can’t wait to get it off you.”

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