#both he and Batman caught on to the word currently

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP fanfic Idea: Gotham Gossip

Meta-human rights are a touchy topic in Gotham. While the city is known for Batman's view on them, it's also known for Bruce Wayne's viewpoint.

The Dark Knight did not welcome Metas, while the Light Knight worked tirelessly to employ charities and programs to support Metas. Both men- if Batman was a man- influenced Gotham so intensely that their viewpoints became the face of the public.

Even people outside of Gothman learned what "Are you a Dark pawn or a Light pawn?" meant when it was spoken about during national debates.

Really, it was no surprise that Batman and Wayne got caught up in a rather explosive public argument over the subject. Or rather, Wayne yelled at Batman during a hostage situation when his party boat got taken by a group of masked men.

Thankfully, Batman was able to save everyone on board, and although he didn't stick around to argue with Wayne, it was noted that Batman seemed intrigued by a few of Wayne's passionate rants. A few reporters were excited to point out there may be a chance of growth within the vigilante, but it was overshadowed by gossip rags that used this incident to make up a wild rumor of Wayne being a bitter ex with Batman.

This rumor runs for months, with various people posting online proof of a relationship. It sparks debate and anger, with other people responding by fact-checking and countering the "proof." Eventually, the argument moves away from Meta-human rights and falls into celebrity gossip, which has Wayne steaming.

People ignore his passionate activism to better the lives of Metas, only watching his speeches, marches, protests, and donations to various charities to gain new proof of his nonexistent romance that may or may have been in his early twenties when he mysteriously vanished to see the world.

That's when the video comes out.

A young teenager wrote a song parody of what was happening. A soft acoustic guitar accompanied his short words, accusing the masses of caring more about a wealthy man's pants being on or not than the lives of his people.

This young teenager is Danny Fenton, a known meta from a small town in Illinois. This quickly turned into people attacking the boy, who released another song using the hateful comments as new lyrics.

Wayne reposts one of his sons, claiming it a masterpiece, which is when one fan notices the similarities between the two. She makes a post talking about how Wayne and Fenton could be father and son as a joke, expecting people to take it seriously.

Overnight, the internet finds out that Fenton was, in fact, adopted into his current family after being surrendered at a fire station anonymously. More and more people started to notice the similar features between the rich man and the small-town singer until a video of Fenton using his powers was leaked.

Fenton's power is invisibility. This resembles another well-known Gotham dweller who can appear and disappear through the city's shadows. It's not long before Fenton is being called the love child of Batman and Wayne.

It leads to so much media attention and harassment aimed towards Fenton that Wayne steps in. He offers to take a paternity test to finally put the rumors to rest and let the young boy vanish from the limelight (should he stop writing songs).

The only problem?

The test is positive. Wayne is Fenton's biological son. The whole nation loses their minds when it's leaked by a very regrettable intern at the clinic where the test was done. (To be fair, the intern's email was hacked, so when she scanned the papers for herself, they were able to steal them)

Worse, Joker thinks it would be hilarious to kidnap Wayne's newly discovered son and, on live TV, give him another paternity test against Batman. The clown is laughing hysterically while his men prepare the results, only to become more gleeful when it's a match again.

Fenton is the son of both the Dark Knight and the Light Knight. It matters little that Batman's DNA is slightly messed up, as various people already suspected him of not being human.

This just proves Fenton is not a meta-human but rather half-human and whatever the hell Batman is. Joker is having a ball reading out the results, proclaiming he would help Fenton meet his biological grandparents with his one guarantee.

His words are cut off when Fetnon- unknown to the viewing public- escapes his bonds and swings an axe from the emergency fire station inside the aged wearhouse at Joker's neck. The clown collapses to the ground dead, the boy bathed in his blood, and the half-finished joke is cut off by the sound of choking blood etching across every screen in Gotham.

The remaining goons and Fenton stare at each other in stun silence while one is brave enough to rasp. "But Batman doesn't kill."

"Do I look like my absent father to you? Besides, Joker venom is a war crime. I'm within my rights, and if I'm not, I would have killed him again anyway."

Fenton quickly outshines his fathers in the public's eye because no matter where one stood on the Meta Rights, everyone stood on the "Kill the Joker" debate.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

As someone who lived in the middle of nowhere, Amity, the ocean both terrified and enthralled Danny Fenton.

The first time his parents took him to the beach, it was the middle of the day and he’d been stuck in the prototype GAV for hours upon hours on their “quick, ghost rumor hunting field trip.”

It wasn’t quick, and they caught exactly zero ghosts. When Danny saw the expanse of sand underneath the summer sun, he and Jazz both bounded out of the van like feral little monkeys. Danny and Jazz sprinted down the sand, their parents ambling behind them with their arms loaded up with towels, a first aid kit, and an ungodly amount of mildly ecto contaminated food that they already fought before getting onto the beach.

Danny had splashed into the water, yelped at the freezing temperature, and then promptly found a shell to keep. His mom taught him how to swim with the waves, having come from Surf City herself, and his dad taught Jazz how to dive.

It was a day full of fond memories, especially the memory of the Great War of Sand-Castle Crushing he and Jazz waged against each other.

They stuck around for the sunset, the ripples of colors and peacefulness that swept across the vast waters caught Danny in its hold.

He hadn’t forgotten that moment. Not even when he died.

After a particularly hard day as Phantom, Danny would fly to the coast and loose hours just sitting on the sand and watching the waves lap against the shore. And when those nights were clear? It felt like a slice of his own personal heaven, with the stars shining on his shoulders and the encompassing crash of the waves sheltering his heart.

And on some days, when being Danny left him frustrated, Danny would fly out to the coast and use his intangibility to walk beneath the waves. Near the coast, it’s cloudy with swirls of moving sand and disturbed waters. He walked, and walked, and floated and floated beneath the waters, taking contentment from the way the moonlight of his stars filtered through the water. He admired the way light would glint on the scales of fish and crustaceans alike as he floated beneath the surface. On those days, Danny would pick up trash and polluted things and bring them to shore, to place in the trash cans and all of the recycling cans. He picked up shells and decorated the beaches he frequented, because if it were decorated, perhaps people would refrain from chucking their waste into the sea.

Well, usually, it’d be trash.

Danny watched speechlessly, jaw cracked open just a smidge, as an explosion happened right over his head. The distortion of the water did not hide the fact that there were large chunks of plane pelting down at him, a different figure flying away from the explosion. Danny went invisible and intangible as large metal pieces plunged into his current water space.

“Gosh, people these days,” he huffed. “This is gonna take forever to…”

Danny trailed off, seeing a humanoid shape crash into the water, clearly unconscious. Danny didn’t hesitate before shooting towards the drowning person, glowing green and fully visible again. The stranger’s eyes- holy shit, that’s Batman- turned towards him before closing behind cracked open lenses. Batman slumped falling unconscious. That’s not good.

Danny rocketed out of the water with the vigilante in his arms. If it weren’t for his supernatural strength, there’s no way lanky teenage Danny would have been able to carry Batman’s grown ass built like a tank self to the shore. Likewise, if it weren’t for his strength, Danny wouldn’t have been able to start chest compressions through the layers of armor.

Danny leaned back with a sigh as Batman coughed out only a bit of water, because Danny hadn’t taken all that long to get to him, and held up his hands in a “I don’t have weapons” way as Batman whirled to him.

“Hi. Are you alright?” Danny asked, ectoplasm and instinctive ghost speak fuzzing his words a bit. Damn, Batman must have nearly died a lot. He’ll freak out about meeting Batman later.

“You saved me,” an awkward pause. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The other guy went that way.”

Danny waved vaguely.

“…What are you?”

“Oh my god, Batman, you can’t just ask someone what they are!” He immediately replied, inwardly smacking himself for the joke. He watched Batman’s face, watching for any sign of discrimination against ghosts, or any sign the man had a sense of humor.

“…”

Neither, apparently, was the answer.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just here to clean up the beaches. You humans really like to pollute the beaches. It’s quite rude, you know. That plane of yours, well, it’s not your fault,” he amended. “But it’s gonna damage sea life. And I don’t know if you’re in the habit, but please don’t litter on the beach or in the water, especially with your unconscious body. It’s tedious to clean.”

“…I see.”

“Stay. I’ll take out your plane. Make sure it doesn’t stay on the sand, alright?”

With that, Danny stood. Unaware of the way the moonlight lit up his hair like white flames and accentuated the sharp points of his ears, Danny turned away and flew back to the plane site, dragging the pieces up with ease.

Batman sat on the sand, likely exhausted from his fight, and watched him carry the pieces of the aircraft up.

“Here. All done. I gotta get going,” because Danny has school and this just lost him two hours. “Will you be alright?”

Batman nodded once, sharply.

“Good.” Danny went invisible, watching Batman sat up straighter, glancing around in a suddenly visible awareness. Oh, well. Tucker’s gonna freak out.

——

Three years later, Danny’s moved to Gotham for university.

And after midterm season, Danny went for a ghostly walk, but this time, in the waters surrounding Gotham.

When he surfaced, Batman was crouching on a lamp post, waiting for him.

“Oh, it’s you,” Danny said. “Hello. Did you know that people are polluting these waters with bodies too?”

“Yes,” Batman said, graveled voice resounding on the shipping containers around them.

“You should do something about that. Do you like places that are polluted?”

Batman sighed. “What are you?”

Danny hears a small, tinny voice by Batman’s ear, coming from a comm.

“Oh my god, B, you can’t just ask someone what they are!”

Mind flashing back to the night Danny drug a waterlogged Batman out of the ocean, Danny cracked a smile.

“Phantom,” he said, decisively. And, because this isn’t Amity anymore, “the Beach Clean Up crew from the flip side.”

——

Bruce, waking up on the sand: wtf

Bruce, seeing a child next to him who probably saved him: wtf (in “adoption”)

Bruce, seeing Danny’s skin glitter like stars, hair aflame, and pointy ears: wtf (in “I can adopt fae folk, right?”)

Bruce, seeing that Danny doesn’t leave any footprints: wtffff (detective mind goes brrrr)

——

Bruce, after Danny leaves: *donates 20 mil towards beach clean up efforts and anti-pollution causes*

——

Bruce’s Goggle Search History, documented by Oracle:

Sea spirits

Sea vampires

How to parent supernatural kids

How to thank your sea child

Are shells a good gift?

Ocean conservation efforts

Sea spirits that glitters under moonlight

Sea spirits that cleans up beaches

Wayne corporation waste disposal

Companies that dump trash into the sea

*outgoing call to Lucius Fox*

What is “mean girls”

——

Bruce, learning “current pop culture” from his kids:

Bruce, remembering the kid who saved him and realizing he’s probably as old as his own kids are: *adoption tendencies intensifies*

[thebigbadbatswife]

OCT 1st - Size Difference/Mirror Sex

Pairing - Arkhamverse!Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Title - Big Mistake

Summary - You’ve finally caught the attention of the Dark Knight and it’s better than you dream it to be.

Warnings - Size Difference, Mirror Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Squirting, Large Cock, Batman is rather mean, Shameless Smut. Enemies with Benefits? Vaginal Sex,

Word Count - 1k

The bulk of Batman’s armour is cold against your back, sending goosebumps across your skin and hardening your nipples. He made short work of your clothing with his batarang. It sliced through your outfit like a hot knife through butter. You would be mad about him ruining your outfit if it wasn’t for the positon he currently had you in.

He has you in front of a mirror. One of his hands hooked beneath your leg, effortlessly holding it up. The head of his cock is pressed firmly against your entrance, ready to breach your body. 

He’s huge. Not that you had been expecting anything less from the man. Everything about him is larger than life, of course he would undoubtedly have the cock to match. You’re not even sure if he’s going to fit inside of you. At least, not the entire way. 

He’s scowling at you. Or maybe that’s just the design of his cowl. Perhaps it’s both. You know he’s far from happy from the lengths you have taken just to get his attention. After all, you’re not one of the bigger criminals in the city. You’re not even on the police’s radar, let alone his. Or you weren't, until tonight.

Batman’s promised to punish you for what you have done. Though, if this is his idea of punishment you’re certainly going to be doing more bad things in the future.

You gasp as his cock starts to push inside of you. It aches and burns, pain and pleasure mixing into one. He only gives you shallow thrusts and with each one he gives you another inch. And you have a front row seat to the whole thing. 

You can’t take your eyes off of the way that he splits you open, his cock carving a place for itself inside of you. Your cunt is drooling all around him, slick sliding down his shaft and balls and making a mess of the inside of your thighs. It’s a good thing as well, making it easier for him to slide inside of you.

He manages to bottom out and your walls squeeze around him. Fucking hell, you feel so full in a way that you never have done before. And his cock is so deep inside of you, you’d almost think that he was about to fuck your stomach. Once he’s finished with you, you seriously doubt you’re ever going to be able to go back to the one night stands you have grown accustomed to. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust to him. Immediately he starts to pull back out before roughly thrusting back into you. 

The pace that he sets is hard and fast. Any discomfort you had originally felt is completely replaced by the feeling of his cock fucking in and out of you, pleasure burning through your veins. He keeps ramming into that sweet spot deep within you, that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moan loudly. If he keeps hitting you there like he currently is, there is no doubt in your mind you’re going to come hard and fast.

Batman doesn’t make a sound as he fucks you. Not even a quiet groan or moan. His sole focus is on fucking you senseless, completely turning your mind to mush from the pleasure, and it’s not like you’re complaining. You have wanted this since the first time that you actually saw him. Though, perhaps, you’re a little disappointed that you don’t get to hear any sounds from him. You bet he would sound incredibly sexy. 

Despite knowing that you’re not going to last long, your orgasm still takes you completely by surprise. Your body shakes as your eyes crew shut and your pussy pulses and squeezes him as you squirt around his cock. His pace remains relentless as he fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure until it’s almost unbearable. 

He gives you no indication that he’s close. A bruising grip on your hips and a couple of grunts are your only indication of anything. He slams into you. Over and over again, hitting that same spot that you’re almost sure he’s going to bruise your insides, if he hasn’t already. All of a sudden he stops, shoving his cock as deep as it will go as it throbs and twitches inside of you, filling you with his cum until it’s seeping out around his cock, dripping down his shaft and the insides of your legs, along with the remnants of your own orgasm. Batman exhales deeply and, without much care, he pulls out of you.

You are an absolute mess. Your skin is shiny with sweat, your pussy is puffy and dripping with the mixture of fluids, now that his cock isn’t plugging you up anymore. But, damn, if you’re not feeling blissed out and very pleased with yourself.

You expect him to drop your leg and move away and give you a moment to recover. Time that you would be using to find something to wear and escaping him until you meet him again.

He doesn’t.

One moment you’re looking at your thoroughly fucked out body in a mirror. The next your back is very roughly meeting the cold surface of a nearby table and Batman is shoving his, still hard, cock back into your abused and oversensitive cunt. 

“Come on, did you really think I was going to fuck you once and that would be that?” he asks. His voice is deep and there’s an edge to it, almost like a growl. It has your pussy squeezing around him. “You need to learn your lesson and I don’t think you have yet.” 

To get his point across, he pulls out only to slam harshly back into you. Your mouth drops open as you cry out. In hindsight you should have known that he wouldn’t go so easily on you. You are in for a very long night and you can only hope that by the end of it you will have enough energy for your escape, once he’s finally finished with you.

[antebunny]

a cuckoo in the nest

(Aka the Fae!Tim fic that I decided not to finish and thus am dumping on Tumblr)

The creature that the Unseelie Queen forces on Bruce is disguised as a human child. Worse, it resembles Bruce’s two current children. Skin on the lighter side, lighter than either of his kids, black hair, blue eyes, and a light sweater and sweatpants combination that either Dick or Jason might wear. It is quite the contrast to the wild fey flashing too-bright teeth at Bruce.

“You will welcome it into your home,” the Unseelie Queen commands. “You will treat it as you would your own son. You will do nothing to indicate that it is anything but a human boy.”

One gnarled claw curls around the creature’s shoulder. The creature’s expression remains eerily blank. Another point in favor of its otherworldliness. A normal human child would show some reaction to the Unseelie Queen’s possessive presence. This creature stays perfectly still.

“In return…” the Unseelie Queen crooks one finger of her free hand in a come here motion and a figure stumbles out of the dark trees surrounding their little clearing. 

It is Jason. Injured beyond belief, blue eyes red and weeping. Bruce’s knee jerks, but he forces himself to remain within the small summoning circle. A thin line of salt and iron protecting him from the Unseelie Queen’s unfathomable powers.  

“You get your son back.” She presents Jason to Bruce like she’s selling a prize horse at an auction. One hand on the back of his neck. “Alive and well. As he was before his death. The memory of his death will remain, but dulled. That is my bargain, Batman.”

Bruce is not fool enough to give the Unseelie Queen his real name, nor is he stupid enough to lie to her. Using his nighttime alter ego presents the perfect compromise. Batman is not his real name, nor is it a lie. So it is Batman’s black gauntlets that curl into fists as Bruce considers the Unseelie Queen’s deal. 

It is the height of stupidity to take a creature he does not know the abilities of into Wayne Manor, and pretend it is his son. Given what he knows of the Unseelie Queen, such a creature could cause unfathomable damage to his family, to Gotham. This is a bet of Bruce’s own intelligence against a fey hundreds of times older than Bruce. He could very well end up losing both of his sons this time. 

“B,” Jason sobs. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

But the alternative is to walk away from a chance to have Jason back. This is not the universe where Bruce is capable of such an act. At least with the Unseelie Queen’s bargain, Bruce has a chance to limit any potential harm. Perhaps he can even outsmart the creature and prevent all damage whatsoever. If she had asked him to kill someone, or something more direct, Bruce wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bruce uncurls his fists slowly. “I accept.”

With those two words, both the creature and Jason are invited into the circle. The creature steps forward calmly, Nike sneakers passing over the salt and iron easily. Its arms are flat by its sides, and its head comes up to Bruce’s chest. If it were human, it would be around the same age that Jason was when Bruce caught him stealing the Batmobile’s tires. A blatant attempt at emotional manipulation on the Unseelie Queen’s part. 

Jason is shoved forwards by the Unseelie Queen. He trips over his own feet, but Bruce is there to catch him this time, to gently fold him in his arms and check him over for injuries.  

“I’m getting you home,” Bruce promises. 

And if he has to bring home the Unseelie Queen’s little spy as well to make it happen, then that is a price Bruce is more than willing to pay to have his family whole again.

~

Tim finally has the chance to be part of a family again, and it is the best family he could have imagined. He can scarcely believe his luck as Mr. Wayne–Batman, for now–leads Tim and Jason (who doesn’t look so good) into the Batcave. Tim is so caught up trying not to gape in awe at everything that he misses the hushed conversation that Mr. Wayne has with his butler, and the slightly louder, much longer conversation he has with his eldest son. The original Robin is standing all of five meters away from Tim! He’s going to be Tim’s older brother!

A lifetime ago, when Tim was still fully human, with parents and the last name Drake, he’d been obsessed with Batman and Robin. Had followed them around pitch black rooftops, through the streets buzzing with neon lights and vices, just to get a glimpse of his heroes. Discovered Robin’s true identity shortly before Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Todd, and a new Robin came to roost in Gotham’s skyscrapers. 

Then Janet and Jack Drake gave their only child to the Unseelie Queen in exchange for money and power, and Tim lost his name, and his home, and his entire world. 

 “What is your name?” Mr. Wayne interrupts Tim’s memories. He looms in front of Tim in an empty Batcave. Mr. Pennyworth and both Robins are long gone. It is only Tim, in his ill-fitting human clothes, and Batman. 

Tim knew this question was coming. Mr. Wayne must think that Tim is a human child, and that asking for his name is a simple exchange of pleasantries. He cannot know that Tim is no longer fully human, and his name is no longer free to give or take, nor his own anymore. Luckily, Tim prepared a response. He does not want to lie to Batman, after all, but as much as he wishes he could trust Mr. Wayne with his name, he knows better.

“What do you want to be called?” Mr. Wayne amends, when Tim fails to answer fast enough.

Carefully, Tim purses his lips and whistles. Hoo-ooh. A sharp ho followed by a lower, longer oo sound. The call of a common cuckoo. Hoo-ooh. Hoo-ooh.

Mr. Wayne frowns in response. Tim panics briefly–did he not get the call right? He practiced so much!–and tries again, a little faster. Hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh. Please accept me. I know I’m an unwanted interloper, an imposter. Please accept me anyway.

“Do you have a name in English?” Mr. Wayne asks. He repeats the question in a few more languages. Tim recognizes the Spanish and Russian, but he’s not sure what the others are. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Tim nods frantically. He swallows with difficulty, and then whispers: “Tim.” 

It is not a lie, and it is common enough that hopefully Tim can remain anonymous. He is a common cuckoo bird, after all, not even remarkable in his imposition. 

“Well, Tim,” Mr. Wayne says, voice dropping to an ominous growl, “I will uphold my end of the bargain. But do not think for a second that I can be tricked into trusting you. And if you give me even the slightest indication that you intend to hurt a member of my family in any way, I will not hesitate to take you down. Do you understand?”

Tim has not cried in years, not since his parents gave him away. But tonight a peculiar wetness pricks at the corners of his eyes as he nods. “Yes, Mr. Wayne, sir,” he says quickly. “I understand.”

It isn’t as though Mr. Wayne is wrong. Tim is an interloper, here to trick Mr. Wayne and his family into caring about Tim. All Mr. Wayne did was make it clear that he will continue to pretend that Tim is part of his family and that he will not be tricked. There’s no reason for Tim to get emotional about it. 

It’s just that Tim hoped, if just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be pretend.

The Wayne family, aside from Mr. Wayne himself, is very easily tricked. Mr. Pennyworth (“call me Alfred, Master Tim”) lets Tim follow him around even though he won’t let Tim help with chores no matter how much he insists that he can do it. Tim is fine with that, really. For now it is better to be tolerated, if not liked, than not to be tolerated at all. He has noticed that even Mr. Wayne defers to Alfred in household matters, so it is good to have the real head of household somewhat in his corner.

Most days, Tim sits on the kitchen counter while Alfred cooks, and awkwardly attempts to answer questions about his previous life. It is mixed, as far as conversations go. The questions are very stressful for Tim, who is never sure how much he should say, but smelling and eating human food after so long without it still brings tears to his eyes. 

Simmering tomato floats through the air as Alfred adds a pinch of rosemary to his soup. Tim’s mouth waters, and he swallows before talking. 

“I had a really long argument with a rosemary plant, once,” Tim recalls ruefully. “It was dumb. But I was so desperate for human food that I’d’ve said just about anything.”

The rosemary plant refused, in the end. Everyone was too scared of the Unseelie Queen to help Tim. 

Alfred stirs his pot carefully. “You had an argument…with the rosemary plant?” He clarifies neutrally. 

“Yep.” Tim’s legs swing back and forth a bit faster. “I told you, it was really dumb. I would’ve tried with the mushrooms, but they’re mean and scary, really scary. And old.”

Some of the mushrooms are even older than the Unseelie Queen, which makes them even scarier. Except that the Unseelie Queen has Tim’s name, and the mushrooms do not. 

Tim blushes all of a sudden, mindful of his audience. “I didn’t mean being old makes them scary,” he mumbles, furious at himself. He is supposed to be trying to get Alfred to like him, and instead he insults him! What is wrong with him?

“It is quite alright, dear boy,” Alfred says. “I assure you no offense was taken. Now, what is it you were saying about being desperate for human food?”

Mr. Grayson (“call me Dick, everyone else does!”) is the easiest to trick into caring about Tim. He is actually not sure what he did to pull it off. Dick stays at Wayne Manor most weekends, and the first time he comes over, before Tim has a chance to enact any of his thirty-four “Trick Robin Into Liking Me” plans, Dick asks if he wants to get ice cream. Tim accepts eagerly, and Dick smiles so brightly that Tim nearly forgets about Mr. Wayne scowling in the background. After that, Dick always makes a point to seek him out. Tim is pretty sure he makes a bumbling mess of himself every conversation, but somehow Dick keeps laughing it off and taking Tim out for another slightly reckless and exceedingly enjoyable excursion. 

Jason is a bit harder to trick. He is still healing mentally and emotionally from his death, so he’s off-duty as Robin. Since school is out for the summer, this means he spends most of his time curled up in the library. Tim once hovered behind him for hours, trying to work up the courage to start a conversation, when Jason turned and snapped what so aggressively that Tim immediately ran away. 

In general, he is surly, defensive, angry, and reluctant to accept affection from his real family, much less Tim. Eight plans to trick Jason into caring about him are complete failures that end in Tim further earning Jason’s ire. Another fourteen plans are thrown out before Tim can enact them, after the humiliation of the eight failures. 

Eventually, Tim turns to Dick for help. Dick has alluded to a rough start with Jason, which sounds fake to Tim. Dick was Robin, how could anyone not like him? But maybe he can give Tim advice. 

It is a sweltering Saturday in late July when Dick pulls away from Wayne Manor in some type of fancy car with Tim in the co-pilot seat. 

“I need advice,” Tim says nervously as Bristol’s mansions flash by. Tim did his best not to look at the Drakes’ manor. He succeeded in not looking, but he wondered whether his parents started staying in Gotham more often once Tim was gone, and the question won’t leave him alone.

“What’s up?” Dick asks easily. He lazes in the driver’s seat, two fingers on the steering wheel. It is this nonchalance which convinces Tim to go through with his question. 

Tim’s hands tap out some pattern on his forearms and elbows. “How do I get Jason to like me?”

Dick curls his right hand around the wheel and glances at Tim quickly. Tim still struggles reading expressions, so he has absolutely no idea what’s going through Dick’s mind. Maybe he’s thinking that there’s no way that Jason will ever like him. Maybe Dick doesn’t like Tim. Maybe he’s only acting like he cares about Tim because he’s so nice.

“Jason doesn’t…” Dick sighs. “Not like you. He’s just going through a lot right now. On top of the stuff with his birth mother, he also, well, you know.”

“Died,” Tim supplies.

Dick’s shoulders inch towards his ears. Veins in his forearm pop as the hand on the wheel tightens. “Yeah. So, just, give him some time, yeah?” 

But Tim doesn’t have time. He has until the end of the summer, approximately two more months. To the fae the end of summer is not a specific day, but rather a sensation. Decay on the doorsteps, rot in the wind. Hot breezes melting into simmering afternoons. The crisp crackle of a leaf underfoot. 

If he cannot trick every member of the Wayne family into loving him by the end of summer, he must return to the Unseelie Queen, this time forever. That was her bargain. This is Tim’s one chance to escape her. 

Tim looks out his window at the cold, unfeeling mansions and nods miserably. “Okay.”

Jason does not like the new kid. Everything about him is just slightly off. He walks like he’s surprised that his feet come back down. He talks like he’s describing a dream and expects everyone else to understand. He’s constantly watching Jason silently with those eerie, unblinking eyes of his. Despite living in the same house as Batman, Tim is quieter still, always popping up unannounced and thrusting a trinket or a book at Jason. 

This isn’t even getting into the part where Jason knows he died but doesn’t quite remember it and keeps having nightmares he doesn’t understand. He vaguely recalls a forest that wasn’t a forest and a hand that wasn’t a hand, curling around his shoulder. Bruce won’t stop treating Jason like glass and Dick still looks weepy sometimes, but neither will let Jason out as Robin. All three are letting Jason get away with everything except the things he actually wants to do. It’s infuriating. 

In other words, the summer is off to a great start.

“Bets on the new kid,” Jason says. He’s in the middle of making himself peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, because he is the only one that Alfred allows in the kitchen. 

Dick is draped dramatically across the counter, because according to him it’s so tragic how Jason never wants to do anything fun. Jason hit him over the head with a spatula in response. Dick whined about that, so Jason hit him even harder. 

“What are we betting on?” Dick asks.

Jason half-shrugs. “Like…he’s clearly not human. What is he?”

Dick sits up on the counter. “Yeah, he keeps talking about talking to plants.”

“And plants are always a little bigger and shinier after he leaves the room,” Jason adds.

“Maybe he’s got some relation to Ivy,” Dick suggests.

This entire conversation would not be necessary if Bruce would just cough up the answer. But he responds to every question about Tim with some variation of “hmmm” or “I cannot say.” Jason even sucked up his pride and asked Barbara, but she doesn’t know what’s up with the new kid either. Jason suspects that Bruce promised Tim he wouldn’t tell, because–

“Have you seen his reaction to food though?” Jason asks rhetorically. “It’s like he’s so shocked he’s being fed.”

And he lets that hang, because maybe it’s true, and not a joke. 

Dick scratches his chin. “And he says ‘human’ like he’s not one.” 

“Okay.” Jason sets his mixing bowl down on the counter Dick claimed as his seat. “My theory: he’s a metahuman whose parents–or guardians–or whoever was in charge of him–treated as less than human, and he made B promise not to say ‘cause he doesn’t know we ain’t shit like his parents yet.”

“I mean.” Dick scoots off the counter when Jason comes swinging with the baking tray. He attempts to help Jason spread the parchment paper until Jason glares at him. “He thinks you hate him.”

Jason freezes in the middle of scooping a handful of cookie batter into the tray. Guilt curdles, expired milk and broken egg shells, in his stomach. “I don’t.”

“I know.” 

Dick doesn’t mention the part about Jason dying, because he’s ultra sensitive to that sort of thing. Jason has debated making extra jokes about his death just to force Dick to get used to it, but he hasn’t gone through with it. He’s never seen Dick cry like he did when Jason came back. They haven’t talked about it, because Jason is allergic to big emotions and Dick is nothing but an oversized bundle of big emotions. But it lingers in the back of Jason’s mind, everytime Dick pretends that everything is fine. You mourned me. It’s so obvious, said like that. Of course he mourned Jason. But it’s not an experience Jason ever expected to live through.

Not even Jason knows how he came back to life. He suspects Bruce had something to do with it, but Bruce won’t say. The continuous silence from him is driving Jason to insanity where the Joker and dying failed. 

“Fair tidings.” Tim’s head pops up by Jason’s shoulder and he forcibly suppresses a surprised reaction. Another weird-ism of Tim’s: what sort of American kid says fair tidings? “Can I help?”

“No,” Jason snaps immediately, curling one arm around the batter bowl. 

Dick makes a noise, and Jason winces. He didn’t mean to snap at the kid. It’s just that everything about Tim sets off sirens in Jason’s head. And usually by the time Jason is ready to invite the kid in, he’s run off. 

“Fine,” Jason grunts. He shoves the bowl at Tim. “We’re making cookies.” 

 Tim stares at the bowl with owlish eyes, and Jason clamps down on the urge to yell at the kid again. 

“Hey, Timmy,” Dick says faux-casually. “I never asked. You got a last name?”

Tim’s head snaps up. “Why do you want to know?”

Jesus, he sounds one wrong word from breaking into tears. Jason exchanges a glance with Dick, who is taken aback by the uncharacteristic bout of aggression from the weird kid, and reluctantly decides to intervene. 

“It’s ‘cause we wanna get to know the baby bro better,” Jason says gruffly. “Ya know. Bondin’ and shhhh, uh, stuff.” 

Tim’s blue eyes widen into twin moons. “You want to be my big brother?”

The naked hope in his voice is really not helping with Jason’s guilt. 

“Yeah.” Jason throws down a few more lumps of cookie dough a bit more forcefully than required. “Ain’t no way B is returning you to the kid store.”

Actually, he’s only seen Bruce interact with Tim once, and it was super awkward. But he’s pretty confident that Bruce wouldn’t take in a kid if he didn’t want that kid to be his kid. 

Dick is smiling dopily, so Jason is pretty sure he said enough right words in the right order. “So?” Dick prompts. “Got a last name, baby bird?”

Tim’s hands float to his elbows and start tapping out an unknown pattern. “It’s, uh. Drake.”

“Tim Drake,” Jason tests out, and neither he nor Dick miss the way that Tim does his best impression of a wooden plank at the sound of his name. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Dunno.” Dick snaps his fingers and points at Tim. “Wait! You’re our neighbor!”

Tim gives Dick his weird blank stare, so Dick points at Jason instead. “The Drakes are our neighbors,” he explains. “The parents were always out of the country for vacation or something, but I remember they had a little kid tag along with them once or twice. What happened?”

“Bruh.” Jason shoves the tray in the oven with his bare hands, because he isn’t a wuss and he’s also not stupid enough to touch the burning hot metal with bare hands. “They supervillains or something?”

Tim shakes his head. His hands press flat against his legs. “They sold me.”

He says it so flatly that Jason exchanges another look with Dick just to make sure he heard right. But Dick’s jaw drops in outrage, so clearly they heard the same thing.

“How? When? To who?” Dick’s eyes narrow. He’s dropping into protective big brother mode. Jason has had the dubious pleasure of experiencing it first-hand a few times. “Does B know about this?”

But Tim shakes his head again. “I can’t say.”

“Are they threatening you?” Jason jumps in, pretending his tone isn’t leaning in the same big brother direction as Dick’s is. “You know B has Supes on speed-dial, right? Ain’t no one in the world who can get away with threatening you now that B’s got you.”

Tim shakes his head a third time, and Jason really has no idea if Tim actually means no or if he’s just moving his head. 

Dick and Jason exchange another worried look, but this time Jason isn’t sure what Dick is thinking. Mostly because Tim just gave them about a thousand more questions in the process of answering one. 

[squippy360]

BratBottom!Bruce Wayne x DomTop!Male reader would be very very hot. I'M IN NEED FOR BRUCEEEE‼️‼️‼️‼️

BratBottom!Bruce Wayne x DomTop!Male Reader

(CW: Overstimulation, degrading, praise, almost getting caught, phone call while having sex, brat taming (?)) Sorry this took so long! I'm trying to write more but I just feel so tired recently.

Being the husband of the billionaire Bruce Wayne, and the secretive hero Batman has been a wild ride for you. You do have some problems with him running off without a word or going on long missions without a call so you have to fix that behavior ;). 

You were currently lovingly (and by lovingly, Bruce means forced) cuddling in bed, your arms wrapped around Bruce's waist and your face shoved in his hair as he huffed quietly now and then, twisting in your grasp only for you to pull him right back. 

"I have to go to work now, love." He whispered, trying again to get out of your strong grasp. 

"Nuh-uh. Don't just think I would let you go after you tried to sneak out without telling me. Again." You smiled back. He huffed softly before trying his luck again. 

You chuckled and looked down, watching him move around more. You smirked softly and leaned down to whisper in his ear. 

"You are being such a fucking brat. Do I need to correct your behavior?" You growled, your cock twitching in your pants as you felt a shiver run up his spine. You pulled his hips flush against yours, your cock rubbing against his ass to extenuate your motive. 

He squirmed more, this time rubbing his hips back slightly before twisting his body to look at you, his hand teasingly running down your body and down to your cock. He kept his smug smirk as his hand caressed your cock teasingly. 

"What are you going to do about it…sir?" He looked up with a smirk. You growled softly and grabbed his arms, getting between his legs and pinning him on his back. He gasped softly, leaving a perfect opening for you to shove your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, still squirming. You bit his lip, making him freeze in place. You tied his hands above his head with a nearby belt. His chest was exposed to you and you eagerly sucked, licked, and bit them. You smirked as his cock twitched in arousal. 

You made sure to mark them up until his nipples were sensitive. "Such a pretty little thing~" You smirked. "Not so big and tough now~" you teased. His hazy eyes looked at yours, practically begging you to fuck him till the morning. 

You yanked his underwear down and kissed the tip before slowly lowering your head down. Bruce groaned and moaned loudly, arching his back into you. You held his waist in your hands, squeezing them. You pulled off and took a breath. "God gave you the sluttiest hips and biggest tits in this world~" You whispered dirty things in his ear. 

He gasped at your words, his face turning a deep red. "D-Don't say stuff like that…it's embarrassing." He groaned. You kissed his thigh and reached over for the lube. He watched as you coated your thick cock in lube. You put the bottle down and held his hips up and teased his hole with your cock. "On second thought, I don't think you deserve this. You haven't apologized yet." You teased. He threw his head back in desperation. 

"Beg me, puppy~" you whispered, just barely slipping your tip in to teasing him more. 

"Please…" He whined out. You smirked and slipped your cock inside, pushing his knees to his chest and bottoming out. His eyes rolled back and he let out a long and breathy groan. We both were knocked out of our fantasyland by Bruce's phone ringing. His face turned red and he reached over for his phone, answering it. You rolled my eyes but soon smirked when you thought of something. 

"Yes, Clark?" He said. You hummed and pulled out and slammed into him fully. He bit down on his lip, throwing his head back. 

"Hey, Bruce! You still remember that meeting that's tonight?" Clark chuckled. 

"Go on. Speak~" you whispered in his ear, biting his ear as he shivered. 

"Uhn…y-yEs! I do…" He stuttered, trying to hold in his moans. "Good. Because we're going over the…" You spaced out and mindlessly thrusted into Bruce, your hands pinching and twisting his sensitive nipples. He let out a whine into the sheets and looked up at you with his desperate look, one he only showed to you in private. You smirked and threw his legs over your shoulders, pounding into him relentlessly. His back arched suddenly and he came untouched, his cum splattering across his tummy. You saw him squirm and whimper, trying to keep quiet and pay attention. 

"...Bruce? Bruce? Are you still there?" Clark asked. "Mm hm…" Bruce grunted, fisting the blankets harder and bit into a nearby pillow. 

"Ok! Well, I'll see you soon." He said and hung up. Bruce let out a relieved moan and looked up at you, his hair disheveled and his face red. You could read his thoughts and smirked. 

"Oh you're still going~ As a matter of fact, I'm coming with you~" You said and buried my face in his neck, chasing after my own orgasm. His body twitched under me from overstimulation as he clung onto me. "M/n! M/n! Please!" He sang, his hands begging into your back. You let out a deep groan and bit into his neck, slamming into his hole and cumming inside. You panted and stayed like that for a moment, thrusting occasionally to fuck your cum deeper into him. 

"Let's get ready, my naughty boy~" You said and pulled out. You helped him dress himself and escorted him to his meeting. 

EXTRA: 

All throughout the night, Clark and the other Justice League members were wondering why Bruce was slightly limping and red-faced all night, until it clicked for them when they saw you were standing near him, whispering occasionally into his ear and teasing him with your hands. 

"That's why he sounded so weird on the phone…" Clark stuttered, flustered.

"I wouldn't blame him. His husband looks so hot!" Flash giggled at them. 

The rest of the night went on, spending time with your lovely and bratty boyfriend. 

[kaethefangal]

Tim had quit his life as Red Robin. When he was younger he was so proud to be Robin, so happy that he got the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fight by Batman’s side. Everyone thought he was destined to do great things, and honestly so did he. He would’ve never dreamed of leaving Batman’s side. That was until he found out about Jason. 

Finding out that Jason died made him hang up the cape. He couldn’t bear to carry on a mantle that wasn’t his. He knew Dick willingly quit, leaving the Robin position vacant. But Jason hadn’t willingly died, and Tim could never feel comfortable in that suit knowing it belonged to a dead kid. The second robin was great, and Tim could never live up to him, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t deserve to. A few years after he quit being Robin, he resurfaced as Red Robin. Because once you lived life as a bat you could never go back, not really. It was a perpetual struggle of constantly looking over his shoulder, constantly wondering if the woman staring at him was planning something or was just admiring his clothes.

 As of now, Tim acted as an information broker.  He worked with the entire Justice League and all heroes/vigilantes, including Jason. When they’d first met Tim was bleeding out on a rooftop after he’d won a fight as Red Robin but had taken substantial physical damage. He’d been expecting a punch in the face for replacing him or at least some kind of anger or resentment. Tim was surprised when the man’s first words to him were ‘Rough night?’ and even more surprised when Jason patched him up and sent him on his way. He’d only worked with Red Hood three times when he found out the man smoked weed. ‘I thought Red Hood was against drugs?’ Tim had asked him as he watched the man light a blunt. ‘Red Hood is against selling drugs to kids. I look like a kid to you?’ Jason asked with a raised eyebrow. Tim had just shook his head and turned back to the screen that was in front of him.

Tim was focused on his current case, his brows furrowed in concentration as he went over a file that the Titans needed from him when he heard those familiar three knocks at his window. He turned his head to find Jason standing on his balcony, his helmet on. Tim stood up to let him in because at this point they’d worked together enough to be considered friends. It’d started out with only interacting for crucial cases, but they grew on each other. Tim enjoyed Jason’s laid-back but still about-business attitude and in turn, Jason savored Tim’s non-judgemental and sarcastic personality. They complimented each other well, after all, albeit in different senses and categories, they were both emotional and social wrecks. Tim was a social recluse because he didn’t know how to understand complex human emotions and Jason was anti-social because he didn’t care about human emotions.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked as he lifted the window. Jason landed inside silently, which was ironic in comparison to his imposing build.

“Nothing. Just need these scanned,” Jason pulled a case holding 5 vials of green liquid from his jacket.

“Got it. What are they?” Tim asked, taking them from Jason and placing them in the chemistry analyzer that sat at his workstation. He sat in his chair, facing away from the man behind him, which was a huge show of trust in itself.

“No idea. Grabbed ‘em off some dealer I caught on the street today,” Jason replied.

“Is said dealer still with us?” Tim asked curiously. Personally, Tim didn’t kill. He couldn’t handle knowing he’d taken a life. Though he didn’t care much about Jason’s killings it still made him feel better knowing Jason was becoming less violent and more understanding.

“With us meaning..?” Jason asked with a hint of amusement in the robotic edge that his helmet put on his voice.

“In the world of the living,” Tim put out bluntly.

“Yes. In the hospital, but alive,” Jason said, taking off his mask.

“Doesn’t it get hot inside that thing?” Tim asked, turning around to face Jason.

“Better than being dead,” Jason shrugged, taking a seat on Tim’s bed.

“You’re never gonna let that one go, are you?” Tim chuckled.

“Would you?” Jason shot back lightning-quick.

“Fair point,” Tim conceded. The chemical analyzer dinged, catching his attention. “Looks like a drug called Viper,”

“Damnit, I should have killed him,” Jason scoffed.

“Bruce wouldn’t like that,” Tim said for nothing else but a reaction.

“Since when do I care about what Bruce likes?” Jason looked at him incredulously through his domino.

“Fair point, go ahead, kill the man,” Tim waved a hand dismissively towards the window.

“And you wouldn’t have a problem with that?” Jason asked in disbelief.

Tim fixed him with the look he always gave Jason when he asked a dumb question. “Viper is a deadly poison, and he was selling it. I’m not saying he deserves it, but he deserves it,”

“So you’d help me?” Jason asked with a small grin.

“Why would I help you kill a man?” 

“I meant help me find out where he got it from and shut the operation down,”

Tim knew the answer was yes, and had to stop himself from shouting it. He pretended to think about it for a few seconds before shrugging. “Sure, sounds fun,”

Jason’s grin grew and Tim couldn’t help but smile too. 

“I’ll swing by again tomorrow,” Jason said, standing. It was then that Tim noticed Jason piling all his weight onto his right leg.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Tim questioned.

“Nothing. My leg is fine,” Jason replied. He began walking towards the window again but Tim noticed the slight limp he moved with. 

“Okay,” Tim sighed, kicking Jason in his left knee. 

“Fuck!” Jason shouted, falling to the ground.

“Thought there was nothing wrong with your leg?”

“I said my leg, not my knee,”

“Your knee is a part of your leg,” Tim called, making his way to the first aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He inwardly chuckled at how Jason attempted to hide his injury from Tim. 

He bent down, opened his cabinet, and looked for the shiny white box with the red plus sign on it. 

He returned almost as quickly as he left to find Jason lying on his bed.

“Either the pants come off or you roll them up,” Tim said as he sat the first aid kit on his bed and opened it.

“Roll it,”

“I’m not your maid,” Tim scoffed. The smile on his face betrayed how he wanted to sound but he didn’t mind much. “Not my doctor either but here we are,” Jason countered smoothly. Tim always enjoyed his and Jason’s banter, not that he’d ever tell the other man that.

Tim stared at him unimpressed. Jason scoffed and pulled his left pant leg up. Underneath it was a deep gash that was poorly stitched up. Blood leaked out of the stitch and it looked infected, yellow pus seeping out around the edges.

“This is one of the worst stitch jobs I’ve ever seen,” Tim said. He got on his knees and began cleaning the stitch with anti-septic.

“In Roy’s defense, his hand was injured too,”

“You should’ve told someone, this is dangerous,”

Jason huffed out a laugh. “That’s an occupational hazard baby bird,”

“Stop calling me that,”

***

Tim watched Jason jump out of his window, the man leaving with a shout of, “I’ll get you some new sheets!” 

Tim hadn’t noticed the blood-soaked sheets on his bed until after Jason was already gone. Tim could do nothing but sigh and begin getting ready for bed. He walked into his bathroom, taking in his appearance. His eye bags were still dark, and his face was still on the grey edge of pale. His eyes were tired, almost lifeless. He was beginning to see his skin clinging to his bone, a telltale sign that he hadn’t been eating. He sighed and looked away.

He brushed his teeth and washed his face almost robotically, avoiding locking eyes with himself in the mirror at all costs. 

He replaced his sheets and got into bed, letting his mind take the wheel.

Viper.

They were already aware of the effects of the drug, it slowly melted away calcium that the bones needed and left it’s victims with dust in place of bones, killing them slowly and painfully. It allowed for a small period of inhuman strength, which was unbelievably dangerous. Solomon Grundy was a prime example of why people out of their minds should not be given super strength. He only hoped they could shut the operation down before Viper spread too much. 

***

“Plan?” Tim asked warily. Jason had come crashing into his room with a look of pure rage on his face a few moments earlier. He’d explained to Tim that there was a new variant in Viper that allowed the victims to live longer and made them susceptible to suggestion. Tim didn’t like drugs that made people susceptible to suggestion. Jason had his theories on what the drug trafficking rings could use it for, who they could sell it to, and none of them were good. The way Jason paced as he spoke made Tim worry that he’d jump into action without a plan.

“My plan is to track down the piece of shit that started this and paint the wall with his brain,” Jason spat.

“Jay as of now you and I are the only ones on this. If you die who will help the victims?” Tim questioned in an attempt to be the voice of reason. 

Jason stopped pacing to think, at least that’s what Tim assumed, he couldn’t tell much from the helmet.

“Fine. What’s the plan?”

“Where’d you find the dealer last night?” Tim asked, turning to his computer.

“Corner of fifth and Eagleside,”

“There’s a warehouse not too far from there. I say we check it out, and if it’s a hit, follow it,”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then we look somewhere else. The drug hasn’t hit the streets hard yet or else Bruce would know. We need to stop it before its next shipment,”

“Right. I’ll-”

Tim’s police radio went off, and he whipped his head towards the noise on his desk. ‘Hostage situation at Gotham Bank, calling all units,’ 

Tim turned his head back to Jason, who’s figure had just leaped out of his window. Tim could do nothing but sigh and run a hand down his face. He really hoped this wouldn’t get them killed.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 13

THE DINNER ENDS!!!!!! Dear god, I need to write something that has less than seven characters present in the currently-being-written scene. This segment will be a bit longer than most previous ones simply because I was so close to the end.

Story Summary: Danny was invited to dinner at Wayne Manor to meet Jazz's boyfriend and his family for the first time. He worked hard to make sure no ghost business would interrupt the evening. But when he arrived, all he could focus on was the ghost of the dead Robin that seemed to haunt Jason. Looks like he was breaking his promise.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.9k

-----

“Look, I’ve faced both an evil future version of me and have had to deal with mind control.” He looked to Bruce and, serious now, said, “As soon as the Anti-Ecto Acts are repealed and the Guys in White disbanded, I will help you write those plans myself.”

Bruce gave a single nod. “Do you know what caused you to turn evil in the alternate time stream?”

Danny sighed and nodded. “Believe it or not, I cheated on a standardized exam.”

“Okay, what?” asked Tim, incredulous. “What sort of 2000s PSA life do you live? How did that lead you down the path to evil?”

Danny frowned. “I got caught, my teacher met with Jazz, my partners, and my parents at a local restaurant to discuss it. There was an explosion and the entire place blew up killing every single person I was close to. I was then sent to live with Vlad where things got worse.”

Duke let out a low whistle. “Damn. I think I’d go evil, too, under that pressure.”

Robin flew over to him and draped himself over Danny’s back, hugging him as tightly as he could. Jazz reached over and gripped his hand. He gave her a smile and squeezed back.

Bruce nodded. “But it sounds like a future that is unlikely to happen again.”

“Grandpa says the same thing. And since he’s the Ghost of Time, I try to believe him.”

Tim made a noise of agreement. “Be glad you have that assurance. I’ve an evil future self as well. He’s such an asshole.”

Danny forced a laugh, recognizing the attempt at levity. “I’m sure. How’d you get yours to go away?”

He shrugged. “The obvious way. Threatened to kill myself so I could never grow up into him.”

Dick spluttered from his spot next to Damian. “I’m sorry, you did what? Tim! How could you?”

Tim shrugged. “Better than having an evil, gun-using Batman running around.”

Bruce was now sitting with his head in his hands. The rest of the table also started yelling at Tim, the references and names making no sense to Danny who looked over to Jazz. She just shrugged at him.

Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, “At least your in-laws won’t be too freaked out when weird things happen around you.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Honestly, I’m glad this is how the evening ended. It means no more secrets between Jason and me.”

“Guys, enough!” shouted Tim. “Look, I’m fine. This happened ages ago. But I promise I’ll update my incident report so you can all snoop on it later. Now, if you’ve all forgotten, we have guests. And ones who can help us with our League troubles. Danny, you had questions about the Lazarus pits?”

“Yeah, uh, you said it can be used to heal people? How does that work?” To Jason, he added, “And how did you interact with it?”

“I was dunked in it,” said Jason with a shrug. “After I’d been revived. I wasn’t in my right mind and Damian’s mom thought it might help.”

Robin nodded and signed something.

Dick translated for the ghost. “Baby Jason says the pit tied him and Big Jason together, but also prevented them from actually combining into one person again.”

Danny looked between them. “You were submerged in a pool of bubbling ectoplasm? How the hell did that not kill you? That shouldn’t be possible for a human. I doubt it’d be good for a ghost!” No wonder his future brother-in-law was split in two. That was probably the best that could be expected.

Danny hadn’t even realized how hard he was projecting concern until Robin trilled back at him to calm him down. Danny took a deep breath and pulled in his aura. “Sorry, Robin. I do think I’d like to get you both in to see my doctor as soon as possible, though.”

Jazz cleared her throat. “We can discuss that at home.”

Bruce stared at him. “Do you think they can help Jason?”

Danny shrugged. “He knows the most about ghost-human hybrids of anyone. If anything can be done, he’ll know.”

“I will go with you,” Bruce said.

Danny immediately shook his head. “Nope. I won’t bring anyone from Earth into the Realms until the Anti-Ecto acts are repealed. And only Jason can invite people to his private medical check up.”

Steph pouted. “But Jason is from Earth. Sure, he’s got some weird thing going on, but why does he get to go exploring other dimensions?”

“Cause he’s dead. He belongs to the Infinite Realms just as much as he belongs to Earth. I’m not gonna block someone from accessing their home.”

“I’m not dead!” yelled Jason. “I’m alive.”

Danny winced. He’d have to talk to Jazz about that. Death wasn’t really a thing that could be recovered from. Not fully. But it wasn’t his place to tell Jason he was still dead if he wasn’t ready to hear that. Jazz or Frostbite could have that conversation. “Of course you’re alive. And Earth is your home, too. But you’ve got one in the Realms if you ever need or want it. Think of it like dual citizenship.”

“I don’t want it.”

Danny sighed. “Look, then the part of you that is manifesting as Robin has a place there and you two can’t be separated so you’re allowed to follow him. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get you in to see the best doctor to help you out.”

“Jason,” Jazz spoke gently and rested her hand on his forearm, “you’re still alive. Nothing about your situation has changed. You just have some more information and more help. Which is a good thing.”

Jason frowned and didn’t answer, choosing instead to glare at his dinner plate.

No one else spoke up until Alfred cleared his throat. “Well, I believe that we should wrap the conversation up here. We’ve all received quite a lot of information and will need some time to review it and consider our next steps.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I think— Wait, um, before we end this, would you have a sample of the Lazarus Water I could take to Frostbite?” At the confused looks he was given, he added, “The doctor I mentioned. I think it’d help him figure out how best to help Jason and Robin.”

Bruce exchanged looks Danny couldn’t interpret with Damian and Tim before speaking. “We’ll have to discuss it. Would we be able to give you our answer in two days? At the very least, we’d like to have the report from your friend first.”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. The sooner the better, though. I’ll call Tucker on the way to Jazz and Jason’s. We’ll put something together for you tonight. I’m not sure exactly how long it’ll take, though. Depends on how much sleep Tuck’s running on.”

Bruce merely nodded.

Dick laughed and got to his feet. “Well, it’s been an absolute pleasure getting to know you. Welcome to the craziness of the Wayne family. It sounds like Jazz and you will fit right in. Let me walk you out.”

His words seemed to be a signal to the rest of the family. Most of whom also rushed over to try and insist on walking them out.

Until Jason shouted, “Enough! We don’t need a crowd to follow us to Jazz’s car. You can say goodbye from here just as easily.”

Dick pouted but acquiesced. Only after pulling Jason into a hug, though. Jason forced Dick to let him go only for Robin to rush in and take his place to Dick’s delight. After separating, they signed something to each other that had Jason blushing and scowling.

And then Dick moved on to hug Jazz, then Danny. “Come back anytime,” he told Danny. “Whether or not those two are with you. B meant it when he said you would have a room here.”

But then Steph was pushing Dick to the side to give Danny a hug as well. “What’s your phone number? I so want whatever blackmail you get on Jason. And I’ll share some of what I have.”

Danny laughed, but did agree to exchange numbers before the Duke was in front of him.

“Dude, you have to come by more often. It’s so annoying being the only meta around here.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Danny promised.

When Tim came over, he insisted on adding both Danny and Jazz to some of the family group chats. “If you give me your sister’s number, I’ll add her in, too.”

Jazz shook her head. “We’ll have to confirm she wants to be added in first. And ask her if she’d like an introduction to Superboy.”

“His name’s Kon. Kon-El. I’ll message him tonight, too. I’m sure he’d love to meet her.”

“Dani will say yes,” said Danny, “but she doesn’t always reply right away. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear from her.”

Then Tim was being pushed aside by Barbara who wanted to make sure he knew how to send them the information about ghosts and the Realms. And Cass was waving goodbye.

Bruce was the last of the group to approach them. “Remember, if you ever need a place to stay or want to lay low, you can come here any time. Even if you just want a warm meal. Your sister as well.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” said Jazz. “We do really appreciate that. You don’t have to offer it.”

“But I want to. Jason…” he trailed off before trying again. “I would like it if you kept me informed with any updates to your condition.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Right, because you want to know how much of a liability I am.”

If anything, Bruce’s face became more closed off at those words. “That’s not… Hn.”

Robin rolled his eyes, somehow visible despite his mask, and flew over to hug Bruce around the waist. Danny couldn’t make sense of the expression Bruce wore as he looked down at the ghost and though his arms twitched, he didn’t return the hug.

Alfred smoothly stepped forward before anyone could say anything. “Well, now that the goodbyes have all been said, I will walk you four out.”

Jason shook his head. “You don’t have to, Alfie. I know the way.”

“Of course you do, Master Jason. But I insist. We’ll stop by the kitchens and I’ll send you home with leftovers.”

Danny tried to hide his smile as Jason merely turned and walked in the direction of the kitchens. It seemed no one argued against Alfred. Once in the kitchens, they were given so much food to take home it required all three to carry it, then Alfred was leading them out a side door which brought them to the drive where Jazz’s car was parked.

Jazz nudged him and nodded her head towards the car. Danny nodded and followed her in while Jason, Alfred, and Robin remained outside to talk for a minute.

Danny took the back seat and met Jazz’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

She gave him a wry smile and said, “What a night, huh?”

Danny snickered before bursting out into full-on laughter, Jazz joining a breath behind him.

-----

Next

Tim totally spilled the beans about Gun Batman to get people distracted from Danny. He's just being a good new friend.

I'm thinking I'll put this on a temporary hiatus as I work through how I want arc two to go. I know the story beats, but the pacing will absolutely have to change. Not gonna spend 16k words on a single evening again! (Did you guys realize it was that long? I certainly did. XP) In the meantime, I'll keep working on Bring Me Home and rewriting the Wrong Number AU.

Bonus points to anyone who can guess my favorite line from this segment!

And sorry for not replying to comments on the post from two weeks ago. I got caught up in irl stuff and wasn't able to get around to it.

Tag List Part 1

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

[hollandorks]

in flames

battisnon! bruce wayne x CEO! vigilante! reader

summary: The reader encounters the Batman when stealing information from a murdered man one night. The next day at a meeting to merge her business with Wayne Enterprises, she meets Bruce Wayne for the first time--and he has a cut on his face exactly like the one she gave the Batman. When sparks fly, will they go down in flames?

a/n: look it's me back with another "oneshot" in which I'm too long winded! This one's smutty and full of banter--enjoy! (and yes I do have to use this gif whenever there's something sexy in the content oops)

***not affiliated with middle of the night***

*content is NSFW. 18+*

word count: 10,497

The window opened with barely a creak. Y/n slipped through carefully, quietly, every one of her senses on high alert. 

Getting caught at an active crime scene would be a terrible look for her company, to say the least. Especially the night before a huge meeting about a potential merger. 

But that part of her that had always existed–the part that fought against injustice, no matter how big or small, the part that used her position in life for good–wouldn’t let this rest. 

A man had been murdered, after all. 

A man who was a murderer himself. A man who hurt people, repeatedly, for his own gain. 

She left the window open the barest crack in case she needed to make a quick getaway, but  still closed enough that it didn’t look like it had been tampered with. She’d learned that lesson the hard way over the years she’d been doing this. 

She waited a beat in the silence of the night to make sure nothing was stirring. 

The penthouse apartment was utterly quiet. 

She knew from a couple of hours of observation that there was only one cop posted outside the apartment door and another in the lobby. She guessed they hadn’t expected anyone to come in from the roof. And hadn’t that been how the Riddler had gotten in to kill the mayor the year before? GCPD were never going to learn. 

Y/n bit back a sigh. A year, and things in Gotham were still shit. 

Well, she was working on that. Not only did she shore up charitable donations in the city, but she also had taken notes from the Batman and decided to take matters into her own hands–in secret of course. She did good work with her money and her company by day, and a different sort of work by night in disguise. 

While she didn’t have the gadgets or physical strength like Batman did, she had her own set of skills. Namely, plenty of friends in places both low and high, willing to help her out because they all owed her favors. She dealt in secrets, and secrets were what led to real change in the city.

Not violence. Not death. Not even good, old-fashioned police work. 

Secrets from the right person leveraged in the right way wrought change with little effort.

And secrets were what she was currently after. 

The man who’d been murdered–a former city councilman who had just announced his run for Senate and his plan to eventually run for president–was scum just like all the powerful people the Riddler had murdered a year before. 

Y/n didn’t condone murder, but she did believe in bringing the darkness into the light. That part of the Riddler’s manifesto, at least, she could get behind. As fucking crazy as the guy was, she really couldn’t blame him for wanting to correct some of the shitstorm that was the city of Gotham. His methods had been all wrong, though. She didn’t hurt anybody. She merely told the truth about them. 

It was pure chance that her target had been murdered. There had been a string of robberies in the upper class neighborhood–and this time, the apartment hadn’t been empty as expected. The thieves had killed him in their surprise. It had always been her plan to rob the man, just not his valuables. She was after his secrets so she could expose him and ruin his political career. 

Now one man was dead and the thief turned murderer was in a jail cell. The city was lauding one and villainizing the other. But they didn’t know what she knew, what she was seeking to reveal to the city at large. 

Y/n knew the truth. Not only was the Senate campaign paid for with all kinds of dirty money, but that money had also been stolen from all kinds of charities–several of which y/n was directly involved with and one she had started herself. 

Even if she hadn’t been involved in the aforementioned charities, her blood would have curdled at every other secret this former councilman had hidden. The skeletons in his closet were overflowing, all clambering over each other, multiplying the more she dug. 

And apparently, the man was old fashioned and had several paper copies of his nefarious dealings hidden in a personal safe. The police had checked the other safe, the one the thief had been trying to get into when he shot the former councilman. All along there had been another, smaller, much more important safe underneath the man’s desk. 

It was this safe y/n aimed for. 

She bent underneath the desk and got to work picking the lock. 

It took nearly ten minutes, not her best work, but finally the damn thing opened with a soft click. Sadly, her informant hadn’t known the code, but y/n was adept at safe cracking and lock picking.

Every hair on the back of her neck rose. 

It was instinct born of her nightly activities, or it was the soft movement of air as someone snuck through the apartment, or maybe it was the barest sound of a shoe against the hardwood. Somehow, she very suddenly knew she wasn’t alone.

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She whirled and threw one of the many knives on her at the person sneaking up behind her. The aim was to scare, not to kill. In the same moment, she grabbed everything from the hidden safe and tucked it under her arm. 

The knife nicked the side of the Batman’s jaw as he easily stepped out of the way. 

Shit, she thought, because she had expected another thief or maybe a cop. And he was close, closer than she’d expected. 

She hadn’t expected Gotham’s favorite vigilante to be right behind. 

The Batman didn’t hesitate either. He darted forward so fast she barely saw more than a blur of shadow. With a curse out loud this time, she dodged, hip banging painfully against the corner of the desk as she moved out of the way. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” she said in a low voice.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” the masked man said. They were both keeping as quiet as possible. She didn’t think either of them would want the cop outside knowing someone had broken into the apartment. 

He lunged. She ducked under his arm and kicked at the back of his knee. He grunted but didn’t go down. She frowned but had no time to alter course before his hand grabbed her upper arm and yanked. All of the papers she’d taken scattered across the floor. 

Y/n chopped at his elbow, hand stinging as it connected to whatever his armor was made out of. 

“Ow,” she muttered as she tried to release herself from his tight grip. Damn, he was strong. She aimed a kick towards his balls but his free hand caught her ankle. Now he had her arm and her leg. She bared her teeth at him and forced herself closer to take him off guard. He wasn’t easily fooled, though, and only held her tighter. 

“I’m not stealing, you fucker,” she hissed. Her chest pressed up against the hard planes of armor. Batman stared down at her, eyes almost blank underneath the mask. He was taller and broader than her, and showed no signs of his grip lessening. 

“Then why did you take papers out of that safe?” he asked in a gravelly baritone that made her shiver. She hadn’t realized that the Batman was…kind of hot. 

“Take a look at them and you’ll see why.” She wriggled again but he didn’t let go. 

He stared down at her for a long moment. Finally, he moved enough to bend over and gather up the papers with one hand. His other hand still had her by the wrist. 

“I’m not going to run,” she said with an annoyed sigh. “I’m doing what you do–fixing corruption.” 

The vigilante straightened and glanced at the topmost paper in his hand. He frowned. 

“Is this all true?” 

She craned her neck to see what, exactly, he was looking at. 

“Yes, it’s all true.” She gave up trying to get out of his hold. He was too strong, too fast. “That’s all I was after. I have a contact at GC1 news I was going to send it to. Make it public that this guy was a piece of shit who’s better off dead.” 

Batman simply stared at her. The cut across his jaw was shallow but bleeding steadily. 

“Then why break in?” he finally asked. 

“Why’d you break in?” she countered. His grip loosened slightly. She silently began to count down. She didn’t want this asshole taking her hard-earned information to the police or anyone else. She wanted it public and she needed the papers in his gloved hands in order to do so. 

“I’m investigating,” he said with a slight narrowing of his eyes. “And catching thieves.” 

“I’m not a thief!” 

She used his distraction to yank her hand back, grab the papers, and dart away. 

Batman caught her by the suit at the scruff of her neck. 

Rage welled up inside y/n and she struck out with her leg. In the same movement she twisted to face him. Her foot connected with his chest. He barely moved. He didn’t make a sound, either, as if she was simply an insect bothering him. 

“If you’re not a thief,” he said while blocking the blow from her fist. She kept backing up towards the window she’d left cracked, even as they exchanged a flurry of blows. “Then why did you break in? Why did you throw a knife?” 

She almost winced. “You snuck up on me, okay? You were closer than I thought. I wasn’t aiming to hit you.” 

“But you were aiming to steal.” Again, he caught her by the ankle as she tried to kick him. She growled as she was forced to hop on her other foot to remain balanced. 

“Yes, we went over this. Nothing else nefarious is going on.” She crossed her heart with her free hand for emphasis. 

Quicker than she thought possible, the Batman released her foot. It knocked her off balance and she stumbled. 

He pulled off her mask. 

Her heart stopped. She froze, panting heavily from their little bit of sparring, and stared at him in fear. 

“Don’t–” she said, but no other words would come. 

“I’m keeping this,” he said as he held up the mask. “Do what you want with those papers. Then stop breaking into places.” 

He had her mask. He was looking her dead in the eyes. She might not have been easily recognizable like other wealthy CEOs in Gotham, but if her merger with Wayne Enterprises went through the next day…her picture would be everywhere. And then he’d know who she was. 

She half-snarled and darted towards her mask. The Batman easily kept it out of her reach. 

“Give it back!” she said in a voice that was much too loud. 

They both froze as the apartment door clicked–a key in the lock. 

Shit, the cop was coming to check on them. 

She and the Batman exchanged a glance. 

Her mind tripped over itself trying to get past her fight, flight, or freeze instincts all warring for attention. She needed her mask, but if she got caught…it was over. 

Fuck it, she had to leave the mask. 

“Fucker,” she mumbled to the other vigilante as she fled for the window. He didn’t stop her. 

As she closed it behind her, she chanced a glance in the window. The Batman was gone. A cop was walking through, shining his flashlight over every shadow. 

Y/n stared for a beat longer. 

Then she scrambled up to the roof to grab her things and run like hell. 

First she had information to leak to the press. Then she had a board meeting to prepare for. At least she had the files now. 

She could get revenge against that asshole vigilante some other time. 

–

Y/n dressed carefully for her meeting the next morning. It never hurt to dress to impress, she reasoned. She needed to look strong, capable, but not dowdy. Men were simple creatures and she figured Bruce Wayne was no different. If she could impress him, the merger would go through. 

Her pantsuit was simple and black, tailored to perfectly accent her body. Underneath she wore a red silk shirt–red for power, red for purpose. Red to match her favorite lipstick. 

The news played in the background as she finished her makeup and hair. The information she’d given the news was already everywhere. She tried not to feel too smug, but it was hard. She’d taken that bastard’s reputation down, sent it to hell where it and he belonged. And now investigations were starting–investigations that would hopefully help the people he wronged. That would give money back to the charities and families he had stolen from. 

She was so focused on her triumph that she didn’t have time to be angry at the asshole vigilante who’d stolen her mask. She could get another one made–but it would take a while. It was custom made, bulletproof and made to perfectly fit her face. Maybe this time she’d request it hook to her suit, too, that way it wouldn’t be so easy to steal next time. 

She and her team were the first ones in the boardroom at Wayne Enterprises. They were early, but only by a few minutes. She shuffled her papers quietly and pulled up the current contract on her laptop. They would be discussing terms in that meeting and hopefully everyone would win. In another tab she had cost and profit projections in neat little graphs. 

Merging with Wayne Enterprises was going to change her life. Her business would thrive even more, have more reach, be able to give more to charity. She knew Bruce Wayne liked charitable giving–his parents had been philanthropists and he had started a relief. She had made sure to include all this in her pros and cons list that she’d emailed the Wayne CEO at the beginning of the merger talks. 

“Good morning,” said a member of the Wayne Enterprises board from the doorway. She and her team stood and started shaking hands. 

Bruce Wayne was the last one in the door. He didn’t shake anyone’s hand, merely went to the opposite end of the conference table from y/n. 

As they all sat, Bruce Wayne looked up and met her gaze. 

They both startled. 

Recognition flitted across his face before he could hide it. 

Her own mouth parted in shock. 

Bruce Wayne had a long cut across one side of his jaw. A cut that perfectly matched the one she’d given a certain vigilante the night before.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman. 

–

“–not saying that we shouldn’t, but after all the bad luck with the Riddler last year–” 

Bruce Wayne interrupted y/n with a growl in his voice. “Bad luck? Bad luck? He’s a psychopath who murdered people and blew up half the city! It’s not–” 

“You know what I meant!” she shot right back. 

There had been a moment, at the beginning of the meeting, where everyone was introduced and the terms of the contract were read aloud and y/n and Bruce had simply stared at each other. The moment stretched into silence, and all she could think was, Holy fucking shit. 

Bruce Wayne was the Batman. 

It had devolved from there. 

Bruce had immediately shot down several of the terms she had insisted on, which pissed her off. Her rebuttal had been appropriately angry, which had pissed him off. Every beat of her heart had her more and more worried he’d reveal her identity and she’d be fired on the spot. 

After half an hour, they’d argued about several things, and she finally started to stop worrying about him outing her. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t piss her off with every word out of his mouth. 

Now, here they were, half-shouting at each other from across the long table, both of them the only ones standing. Bruce had his hands flat on the table as he shot daggers at her with his eyes and his words. She stood with a hand on her hip, just as angry as she was. 

The worst part was, they’d been using an intermediary to even draft the contract they were there to discuss. And now he suddenly had a bunch of issues with it? It was in his fucking favor. 

There was a soft clearing of a throat that shut them both up mid bickering. 

“I think we should table this for the day,” said the intermediary. She was pretty sure he wasn’t there to act as a literal mediator. “We can reconvene at the same time tomorrow. Why don’t we have both sides draw up new proposals in the meantime.” 

Everyone was staring at them, at their behavior, and it only served to piss her off more. 

“Well I’m okay with getting this finished today,” y/n said petulantly. She glared at Bruce Wayne. 

“Let’s table it,” he said as he glared right back. She had a feeling that he was only saying that to disagree with her, not because he actually thought it was a bad idea. 

She ground her teeth together so hard she was pretty sure the whole table could hear it. “Fine, same time tomorrow.” 

She was too angry to feel embarrassed at her squabbling with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises like two rival schoolchildren. Not only had this fucker taken her mask, but he also was trying to fuck her with her company too. All this work she’d put into the contract, into the merger, and he was blowing it off like it was nothing.

She stormed out of the room without another word, headed straight for the elevator, and muttered curse words under her breath the entire way. It didn’t help her feel better, but she had to blow off some of the steam rising in her somehow or she was going to burst into angry flames and take down the whole building, his apartments included.

Inside the elevator, she took a deep breath. She’d have to rewrite the entire contract, which would probably take all night. The only thing that made her feel better was that Bruce Wayne had to do the same thing if he wanted any of his terms put up for consideration. 

She imagined him in his full Batman costume pouring over the contracts and snorted to herself. Of course, he probably just had someone do it for him and send it to him to review, but the mental image cheered her slightly. 

As if her thoughts had conjured him, a hand caught the closing elevator doors, and in stepped Bruce Wayne. 

The doors slid closed beside them. 

Y/n had to bite her lip to keep from making a rude comment. There were several of them warring to get out at once. 

“Mr. Wayne,” she said instead, but she let all of the built up anger and venom come through her words. 

He put his hands in his suit pockets and sighed. She had to admit, even as mad as he made her, he looked damn good. He was wearing a tailored dark blue suit that made his blue eyes pop. His long, dark hair was tousled as if he’d woken up right before coming to the meeting. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and his damn jawline was so sharp it looked like it had cut itself with the damage her knife had inflicted. And the cut along the jaw just made it worse–he looked mysterious, handsome, like he was full of secrets waiting to be discovered. Which, she guessed, he was. 

He stared down at her, back ramrod straight, and seemed to grow in the small space. He reached a hand out and without looking hit a button that made the elevator stop. 

She simply waited. She was pretty sure she knew what was coming. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. 

Bruce leaned in very close–close enough that she could smell whatever fresh scent of shampoo or deodorant he used. It was a masculine scent that made her pulse jump as he got close enough for her to feel his breath. 

“If you tell anyone,” he said in a voice that definitely dredged up all sorts of images of darkness and shadows and bat wings. It also made her think of silk sheets and shadowy beds. 

Feeling bold, y/n stepped closer. Their chests brushed now. “Is this a threat, Mr. Wayne?” 

Something flashed in his eyes and her traitorous body decided to get really, really turned on. His jaw clenched so tightly she expected to hear an audible snap. She could practically see his internal struggle not to be an asshole and it made her want to laugh. It was almost too easy to rile him up. 

He took a step back, expression suddenly vulnerable. “It would be…very bad for me, and those close to me…if you told anyone. So, please. Just don’t–please.” 

She softened a little. She hadn’t expected the please. “Hey, I’ve got a big secret too, remember? I won’t tell.” He gave a single sharp nod. “I want my mask back,” she added. 

“No,” he said as he leaned against the elevator wall. She could see their reflections in the shiny metallic ceiling. He was a blur of dark blue, she a pop of red. Opposites, of course.

“Why the fuck not?” she asked. She crossed her arms again. The softness she’d felt towards him was completely gone just like that. 

Bruce straightened and got into her space again. Granted, it might not have been on purpose since he was so tall and the elevator was small. He lowered his voice, eyes flickering to her red lips, and said, “To keep you out of trouble.” 

Y/n had no excuse for what happened next. As if possessed, she matched his step forward and let her hand slide up his chest to his shoulder. He swallowed hard, seemingly nervous. 

“I can get into all kinds of trouble without the mask,” she murmured. Her eyes traced his lips this time. 

And maybe it was because he was handsome and he was there. Maybe it was because they shared so many similarities. Or maybe she wanted to one up him somehow, and knew this would do the trick. 

No matter the reason, y/n stretched up and captured Bruce Wayne’s mouth with her own. 

He froze for a second, going unnaturally still, before he seemed to shake it off. 

She couldn’t help the small groan that escaped when his tongue traced her bottom lip or the one that slipped out when he grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him. One of her hands slipped inside his suit jacket while the other tangled in his hair. He groaned this time, and it went straight through her like a meteor, lighting her on fire as it went. 

Her back bumped against the cold elevator wall, the railing digging into her, and she let herself be lifted so her ass sat on top of it. It was barely big enough to balance on, but provided enough leverage for Bruce to slide between her legs. She could feel his arousal press against her, right where she wanted him, and she couldn’t help the small shift of her hips. 

Bruce grabbed her tighter. 

She bit his lower lip and grinned when he jerked back. 

“That was for being a jerk earlier,” she said. 

He stared down at her. His dark hair was mussed. The blackness of his pupils had almost overtaken the bright blue. 

Y/n lifted her hips to grind against him. His breath shook, eyelids fluttering closed. He felt so good against her like this, warm and strong and solid. 

But then he let go and stepped away from her. He straightened his suit and wiped her lipstick off of his own mouth. 

“Was it something I said?” she asked, teasing to cover up the hurt that was stinging through her like small thorns. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. He jabbed the same button from earlier and the elevator lurched into motion once more. 

She frowned at him. He didn’t bother looking at her. “So you’re going to leave me and my business high and dry?” 

No answer. She scoffed. “And here I thought you were different from the typical rich man.” 

His shoulders stiffened but he still didn’t say a word. Above their heads, the elevator counted down as they slowly got closer and closer to the ground floor. 

“Don’t you live in the penthouse?” she asked with another frown, distracted from her annoyance by the descending numbers. 

“Yes,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. 

“Then let’s go up there so you can give me my damn mask back.”

The elevator dinged as they reached the lobby. 

“No,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out. 

She watched him stride away on impossibly long legs. 

“Fuck,” she said, half annoyed with him, half with herself. She wanted to chase after him and slap some sense into him. Or chase after him and kiss him again. Her whole body tingled from the adrenaline of their meeting followed by quite possibly the best kiss she’d ever had. 

And he still wouldn’t give her damn mask back. 

With another soft growl of frustration, she stepped out of the elevator. She had no choice but to head home and start working on the damn contract. That, and she had to order a replacement mask. Hopefully her supplier still had her measurements on file. 

– 

The next morning, y/n decided to do something stupid. 

She left two hours early for their makeup merger meeting and stopped at the reception desk with her most winning smile. 

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “They messed up my order this morning so I have an extra latte. Do you want it?” 

“Oh–Yeah, sure, thanks. I was running late this morning so I haven’t had time to get coffee,” the young girl said. She took the proffered coffee and inhaled deeply with a soft sound of appreciation. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it was free.” She smiled again. It definitely hadn’t been free and was, in fact, part of her stupid plan. “I’m just heading up to see Mr. Wayne. He forgot to give me the code to get up there. I don’t think he’s awake yet.” She winked and laughed. “We’re going over this merger contract some more before we bring all the big boys in on it.” 

She waved a file folder in the air. It was a copy of her amended contract, to be fair. And she did want to talk to Bruce about it. But she also wanted to maybe snoop around and get her mask back and maybe also find out where he hid his Batman armor. 

“Sure, no problem,” the receptionist said cheerfully. She scribbled a note with one hand and sipped her coffee with the other. Y/n relaxed. She thought for sure she’d be told a very firm no. She’d imagined Bruce being summoned from the top of the tower to come curse her out in front of all of his employees. She supposed being a CEO in her own right made it easier to get into a forbidden space. Hell, this girl probably thought she and Bruce were going to go over the contract naked. 

And wasn’t that an idea. 

Y/n thanked the girl and practically skipped to the private elevator she was directed to. It gave her no small amount of joy to get one up on Bruce again. She spent the whole long ride up to the penthouse smiling as she imagined the look on his face when she interrupted his breakfast. 

She knew it was stupid–really, she did. The merger was tentative now because of their show in the boardroom and she was sure their kiss hadn’t helped matters at all. 

She didn’t stop and question why she was doing this or what she hoped to get out of it. Mostly she wanted to bother Bruce, get her mask back, and maybe, hopefully iron out some of the kinks in the merger plan. She had a feeling they would both be better without an audience. 

The elevator made no noise as it slid to a stop and opened its doors. 

Y/n stopped in her tracks. 

Wayne Tower’s penthouse was…like the inside of a gothic church. The ceilings were tall and sweeping, full of detailed arches, sculptures, and well, a lot of dust. 

“Hello,” said a soft, accented voice. She turned and saw an aging man with a cane, his salt and pepper hair styled perfectly neat, his clothes pressed and clean. “Is Mr. Wayne…expecting you?” 

She didn’t miss the way his hand strayed to his side and the telltale bulge underneath his shirt. He was armed. His expression was polite, kind even, but there was a glint in his eyes that said he meant business. 

She held up her trusty file folder. “I came to go over some stuff about the merger. I’m y/n. I don’t know if he told you about uh…our argument in the meeting yesterday, so I’m here to apologize and smooth things over.” She shrugged as if sheepish. 

“The day you apologize is the day my father becomes mayor,” said a familiar voice. 

She turned, and there was Bruce. He was dressed in dark sweatpants and nothing else, running a towel over his damp hair. She hated that her entire body reacted to the sight of him shirtless. He was muscular. Scarred, too, but it made sense with his nightly activities. 

Her mouth was too dry to talk. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “Well, you better get out the confetti because I really am here to say I’m sorry.” Okay, maybe it hadn’t actually been part of her plan but…she could say two little words in exchange for saving the merger. 

Bruce and the older man exchanged a look. Bruce made a dismissive wave. The man nodded once and disappeared down a hallway. 

They stared at each other in silence. Bruce slung the towel over one bare shoulder. She tried not to stare, she really did, but it was next to impossible. God, did he have to be so fucking good looking on top of everything else? 

“How’d you get in here?” Bruce finally asked. He crossed his arms, which only served to show off his biceps and pectorals. 

Stop staring! y/n mentally shouted at herself. She tore her eyes away and met his gaze. 

“I flirted with the receptionist,” she said. She was rewarded with Bruce’s shock. He opened and then abruptly closed his mouth before he schooled his expression. 

“Poor Stella,” he said after a beat. 

She couldn’t help her laugh. “I bought her coffee and told her the truth. I came to talk about the contract. And…okay, maybe I wasn’t going to apologize, but I did intend to smooth things over. That counts for something, right?” 

Bruce’s lips compressed like he was trying not to smile. “I should have let Alfred shoot you.” 

She let out a startled laugh. “I did sneak into your home, so…” 

“Well, come on then,” Bruce said, gesturing for her to follow him. 

“Where are we going?” she asked uncertainly. 

“We’re going to have breakfast and go over the damn contract.” 

“And you’re going to give in to all of my demands and grovel at my feet, right?” she said to his unfairly muscled back. 

He turned his head just enough that she could see his arched eyebrow. 

“Hey, it was worth a shot.” 

Breakfast went well, at first. She and Bruce joked together like they were old friends as they ate. He told her about the time he’d snuck out on break from college and had tried to sneak back in, only for Alfred to catch him and threaten to shoot him. 

Then the talk shifted to business, and they started arguing all over again. She shouldn’t have brought up the controversial Renewal Fund, she knew that, but it had been an accident. An accident that pissed Bruce off, apparently. 

“I’m just saying that we should have more checks and balances,” she said through gritted teeth as Alfred cleared their plates. He was Bruce’s butler, apparently, though he seemed more like an uncle or something. 

“I don’t disagree,” Bruce said. He rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb. 

“You are literally disagreeing!” She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. 

“Not about that!” 

“Then what? That the Renewal Fund wasn’t used to fund the corrupt? That it wasn’t an absolute shit show?” She tapped her pointer finger on the table with every other word. 

Bruce stared at her. “All of that is true.” 

“You are so–” She made a frustrated noise. “So fucking annoying!” 

“If you would listen to me for a moment, maybe you wouldn’t get so frustrated.” He glared at her between his fingers as he continued rubbing at what was apparently a massive headache caused by her. 

“I am listening! I don’t–I mean, come on, you run around dressed as a bat every night to try and make a goddamn difference in the city. And now suddenly your morals change?” She smacked her hand against the wood table so hard it hurt. “Of course I’m frustrated.” 

Bruce’s gaze went flat. “That has no bearing on what I do in my company,” he finally said after a long pause. 

She inhaled deeply. “Shouldn’t it, though?” 

“What are you saying?” Both of his palms were pressed flat on the table. Every line of him was rigid as if he were about to snap. 

“Jesus, if you’d chill for a second,” she muttered, then straightened. “I’m saying that my company is charitable. That’s one of our core values. We hire the underprivileged, we give back to the community, we work to build up Gotham brick by brick. And what does Wayne Enterprises do? Give to charity once or twice a year? Sometimes help with relief funds where there’s a flood caused by a psychopath?” 

“You’re saying you don’t think this will work because I’m not charitable enough?” Disbelief colored his tone even though his face remained carefully neutral. His nostrils flared though as he breathed in deep and let it out, the only sign she was truly getting under his skin. “Because I shut down the Renewal Fund?” 

“I know what you do every night. I commend it. It’s–actually pretty fucking amazing. But that’s only one thing. Bruce Wayne, CEO, can do…so much more in the light of day. Why do you think I do both, too? So all I’m saying is, maybe if we join forces….we can really make a change. At night and during the day. You understand?” 

Bruce stood abruptly and started pacing. “You shouldn’t be doing that kind of stuff.” 

“Neither should you,” she said dryly. “And that’s not stopping you.” 

Bruce paused in his pacing. He opened his mouth but she interrupted, her annoyance rising all over again. 

“I swear if you say it’s different for you, I’ll punch you so hard you’ll forget your name.” 

He closed his mouth again. 

“Seriously,” she said. She stood to better face him. “You’ve got some kind of weird savior complex going on and it’s getting on my nerves.” 

He raised one dark eyebrow. “Savior complex?” 

“Yes!” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a child. 

“And you’re qualified to comment on this after–” He pretended to check a watch he wasn’t wearing. “Only knowing me for about thirty-two hours?” 

“You’re not as much of a mystery as you like to think, Mr. Wayne. You run around every night and yes, you do plenty for the city. But you think you have to do it alone. I don’t know if it’s because you think you’re better than anyone else or what, but newsflash–other people want to help Gotham too.” She crossed her arms again and stared him down. His eyes narrowed. “Other people can help Gotham.” 

“It’s dangerous,” he finally said after a long minute of glaring at each other. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” she said. She couldn’t help the roll of her eyes that went along with the words. “I’m not hurting anyone. Hell, I usually wait until places are empty to steal information. That’s what I deal with–secrets and information. I’m barely in danger.”

“How do I know you won’t steal information from me?”

She grit her teeth. “Are you doing anything illegal? Other than, you know, being a vigilante, I mean. I don’t care about that.” 

“No.” His jaw flexed and he looked away. 

“Then what the fuck is your problem?” She’d been doing so well at squashing the annoyance that kept rising within her. “Are you just trying to be an asshole? You lose nothing with this merger, don’t you get that? All I’m asking is for you to use your fucking money for good. You know, I bet your dad would be so disappointed that–” 

“Get out.” The words were a growl. All at once something in him shifted and she saw a shadow of a cape and mask. Something in him was all predator now. 

She hesitated. She hadn’t meant to actually piss him off. “Bruce–”

“Get. Out.” He pointed a single, threatening finger. He seemed to loom even larger, his body taking up twice the amount of space with its anger. 

“I just meant that–” 

He took a step forward and damn it if she didn’t feel a small jolt of fear. She scrambled to grab her stuff.

“The meeting is canceled,” he said in a calmer voice. “Now get out.” 

“You’re canceling?” She paused in the process of gathering her things. “No way. I’m going to talk to your board about canceling the merger, I–” 

“Not the merger, just the meeting.” Without another word, Bruce turned and left. She imagined a shadow following him, a physical manifestation of his anger. Somewhere, a door slammed. 

Grinding her teeth, y/n grabbed all of her stuff and stomped back to the elevator. “Stupid, stubborn, asshole of a man,” she muttered the whole way. Sure, maybe she shouldn’t have brought up his dad. But she had a point and he knew it. That was why he was so pissed off. 

And canceling their meeting? What a dick. 

She stopped before hitting the button that would take her to the lobby. 

“You know what?” she said out loud. “I’m just going to wait.” She glanced around at the imitation of a spooky castle. “Hear that?” she shouted. “I’m not fucking leaving until you see sense!” 

Her voice echoed around the space. She half-expected a hoard of bats to take off from the rafters far above. She bit back an almost hysterical laugh. Maybe there were bats hiding up there. That’s probably where he got the idea from. 

She leaned back against the wall next to the elevator. 

“Am I going to have to have you arrested for trespassing?” 

Y/n jumped. Standing in the entrance to a hallway on her left was Alfred, the butler or…whatever he was. Security. Uncle. Bruce hadn’t ever actually clarified that point.

“Oh–Uh–” It was one thing to try to get back at Bruce. Alfred, frankly, intimidated her. And he seemed nice, unlike Bruce, which made her loathe to get on his nerves. “I was just–” 

“I take it the meeting didn’t go so well?” he said, letting her off the hook. 

She relaxed slightly. “Oh, it went perfectly. We yelled at each other for half an hour, debated the morality of vigilantes, and then when I accidentally brought up his dad, he kicked me out.” 

Alfred’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair. “Oh?” he said. 

Right. She probably wasn’t supposed to know that Bruce was Batman. “I uh…we actually met the night before last,” she said. “He stole my mask.” 

She was impressed that he didn’t show any emotion. “Did he?” 

“And I cut his face. It was an accident, but at yesterday’s meeting I noticed and…well. You probably know what I noticed.” 

Alfred hummed and relaxed his posture. “You didn’t tell anyone?” 

“Like I said, he stole my mask. I don’t give a shit what he does.” She shrugged. It was the truth. “All I want is for this merger to not only benefit our companies, but Gotham too. And for some reason the guy who runs around at all hours of the night protecting the city is suddenly waffling about using some of his buckets of cash to do some fucking good.” 

Alfred did the last thing she expected. He laughed. “Oh, I like you. Come on.” He waved her over and went to, of all things, another elevator. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, wondering if maybe there was a dungeon beneath this place that Alfred was tricking her into. “And why does this goddamn tower have so many elevators?” 

Alfred put in a code and stepped inside an elevator that was a lot…grungier than the others she’d been in inside of Wayne Tower. He pressed his thumb to a keypad and entered another code. He then hit a button labeled only B before the thing started to lower. Basement, maybe? 

“This one is only for Bruce and I.” 

“Are you taking me to the dungeon?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Alfred chuckled. “You’ll see.” 

“So that’s all it takes to get into Bruce Wayne’s inner sanctum, huh?” She leaned against the side of the elevator. “Sneak into the penthouse, pick a fight, and reveal that I know his deepest secret to his…uncle?” 

“Butler,” Alfred said. He shifted grip on his cane. “And Bruce needs someone to pick a fight with him.” 

“I really feel like you’re about to lock me in a dungeon.” 

The elevator jerked to a stop. There was a gate across the opening that rattled as it parted. 

Alfred gestured for y/n to step out, so she did. She was surprised to see Alfred was staying inside. He winked at her and was gone as the elevator ascended again. 

“Is she gone?” Bruce’s voice echoed around her and a chittering noise started in its wake. 

The space around her was…dark. She was standing on a platform with steps in front of her that led down to a wide open space. The edges of the area were in deep shadow and everything echoed strangely. Her eyes lifted to the dark ceiling and–holy shit, those were bats. 

Her gaze landed next on two words carved into the stone overhand: Wayne Station. 

“No, actually, she’s not,” y/n said as she followed the stairs down to where Bruce was. He had a shirt on now, at least. He was standing at a desk with several computer screens, hunched over as he scribbled something down. All around them were tables, computers, various tools, random pieces of Batman’s suit, two motorcycles, and a car on a ramp with one of those cloth covers over it. 

Bruce whirled at the sound of her voice. “What–” 

“Alfred let me in,” she said with a triumphant grin. The pen in Bruce’s hand cracked from the force of his grip. 

Bruce growled and turned back to what he was doing, unceremoniously flinging his pen to the side. “Alfred,” he muttered as if it were a curse. 

“He said you need someone to pick a fight with you. All I did was tell him I knew your secret and poof, here we are.” She greedily took in the space around her. It was so interesting. She had a feeling she was seeing a manifestation of Bruce’s mind. There were blueprints, all kinds of gadgets in various stages of completion, and a dummy dressed in his Batman armor and mask. 

“He–” Bruce muttered something else she didn’t catch. 

“Listen, I can pick a fight if you want, or you can show me all of this cool stuff.” There was almost a giddiness rising within her. He had so many cool gadgets, things she’d never dreamed of having. No wonder he was such a good vigilante. 

Bruce glared at her for a moment before turning back to whatever it was he was doing. It looked like he was making notes on a blueprint of some sort. The drawing looked like a car. Kind of. “It isn’t stuff,” she thought she heard him mumble, but she wasn’t sure. 

“Ooh, okay, fine. Let’s pick another fight. Will you get pissed off if I start moving stuff around?” It was too easy to tease him, she thought as she reached out and lifted something that looked an awful lot like a grenade. Her fingers had barely wrapped around it when Bruce’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. 

“Put that down.” 

She grinned at him and obliged. “That’s a yes, then. What if I touch this?” she asked as she picked up something that looked like the armbands he wore on his wrists. It was a lot heavier than she expected. Goddamn, he wore those things every night? Her wrist felt like it was about to break just from holding it. 

He snatched it from her. 

A small laugh escaped her lips. “You’re too easy a target.” She reached blindly for something else. 

He caught both of her wrists in his hands this time. “Stop doing that.” 

“Who pissed in your wheaties this morning, huh?” she asked as he yanked her away from the tempting pile of stuff. 

“You did,” he said. He still hadn’t let her go. 

“Listen,” she said after a beat. “I didn’t mean to–bring up anything by mentioning your dad, okay? I was frustrated.” 

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered. He glanced away but didn’t let her go. 

“I’m going to let that one slide because I really am sorry.” She shrugged as best as she could from within his grip. Her eyes trailed past him, over his shoulder, and she jerked. “Hey! That’s my fucking mask!” 

She yanked hard against him but he didn’t let her go. 

“I told you, you’re not getting it back,” he said firmly. He was scowling down at her. 

“You fucker,” she said. “I already ordered a new one, anyways. Made some improvements.” 

He sighed long and loud through his nose, eyes closed as if he were trying to find inner peace or something. 

“Will you let me go?” she asked.

“Will you stop touching stuff?” he asked, eyes opening. She didn’t miss the way his pupils expanded as he continued to stare at her. 

“That depends,” she said with a bold step forward. “Is there anything I am allowed to touch?” She said it so seductively that there wasn’t a question about her meaning. She let her chest brush against his. 

Bruce said nothing but his grip loosened. 

She slid one of her hands up his chest and rested it on his shoulder. “Do I really piss you off that much?” she murmured. 

“Yes.” 

“So you don’t like me…at all?” She pressed herself closer against him. His sweatpants did nothing to hide the fact that he at least liked her some. 

“I didn’t say that.” His hands fell to her waist, his touch burning hot even through her clothes. 

“Should I get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?” she asked in a low voice. Just imagining it turned her on so much her breath stuttered. Bruce’s fingers flexed against her and she felt the words go straight through him as his cock twitched against her stomach. “Or maybe you should get on your knees,” she murmured as her hand tangled in his hair. His eyes fluttered closed for a second. 

“Which one will make you shut up faster?” he asked after a second. His blue eyes flashed as they opened again. 

She laughed and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Sounds like you want my mouth full.” 

Bruce stopped breathing for a split second. Then his lips were crashing against hers. Her back smacked against the nearest table. He was everywhere. The warmth of his body surrounded her and she again had a moment of thinking he was larger than he was. His hands strayed up her shirt, the calluses on his bare palms dragging a shiver from her as they scraped across her skin. 

This time he bit her lower lip and the mixture of pleasure and pain had a soft noise escaping from her before she could stop it. 

“You’re so infuriating,” he said against her lips. “You drive me crazy.” 

“Right back at you,” she said and kissed him again. 

“I mean it,” he said as his nose traced her jaw. He pressed a kiss against her pulse. She was certain he could feel the way it suddenly jumped. “I have never been so aggravated by a person before.” He kissed down her neck and sighed into her skin. “And I’ve never wanted someone so much.” 

“Then do something about it,” she said with a challenge in her voice. It didn’t come out as strong as she’d hoped though, because his lips were distracting her, and one of his thumbs had chosen that moment to brush the underside of her breast through her bra. 

In one swift movement he had rid her of her shirt. His eyes were hungry as they took her in. “You’re beautiful,” he said. 

“Finally, a compliment,” she said but the words choked off as his lips touched the top of one breast and then the other. 

“One of us has to be nice,” he said, and the way his breath brushed against her skin made her shiver. He glanced up at her through his dark, dark lashes. 

“I can be nice,” she said defensively. What she really wanted to do was demand that he touch her already, but that would defeat the purpose of her comment about being nice. 

Bruce quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh?” 

She pulled him back to his full height and settled on her knees before him. And bless him, he had some sort of cushioned mats underneath the tables so she wasn’t on hard concrete. Her hands settled on the backs of his thighs as she leaned back enough to stare up at him. 

“I can be very nice,” she said as she tugged his sweatpants down. 

His breath and hers both caught when his cock sprang free. Her mouth practically watered at the sight. His hand caressed the back of her head encouragingly but he made no move to force her forward. He simply watched, and waited. 

She licked the underside of him slowly. Her reward was a choked noise. His hand tightened spasmodically on her head but again, he didn’t force her forward. 

She licked him again, experimental this time, letting her mouth very slowly explore him, moistening him so when she decided to, her lips would slide right over him. 

She took the head of him in her mouth first and swirled her tongue. This time he moaned out her name. The sound of it made her squeeze her thighs together. Her want was a living, breathing thing within her. She didn’t want to tease anymore. She took him into her mouth fully, swallowing him as deep as she could. 

The sound Bruce made was desperate. It echoed around them and only served to make her hungry for more. She was doing that to him. She was making him feel that good. 

Her head bobbed, his hand a gentle guide on the back of it, the noises he was making becoming more frequent the more she moved. His body trembled. She wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing, either. 

All of a sudden her mouth was empty as he jerked away from her. It was instinct to follow but he tugged gently on her hair to stop her. 

“My turn to be nice,” he said, voice deeper than she’d ever heard it. He guided her upwards and kissed her so hard it left her breathless. He palmed one of her breasts with one hand and her ass with the other. Then her bra was falling off and to the floor. 

“You?” she said on half a gasp. “Nice?” 

He grinned at her. “I can be very nice.” 

He unzipped her skirt. It puddled around her ankles. She kicked off her shoes and the skirt in anticipation. 

“Yeah?” she said as both of his hands gripped her ass and pulled her closer. She wiggled against him, his cock against her bare stomach about to drive her wild with need and they hadn’t even done anything yet. “Prove it.” 

One of his hands was between her legs before she finished speaking. He brushed a thumb against her clit through her underwear, making her squirm. He leaned down to kiss the pulse point in her neck again. 

She made a noise of complaint when he stopped touching her but all he did was lift her so she was situated on the table. 

“Spread your legs,” he said and her body instinctually obeyed without her permission. He pulled down her underwear. His eyes were hungry as he lowered himself to her knees. He was devouring her with his gaze. His lips parted as his tongue darted out. She knew that tongue was about to be on her and the anticipation was killing her. 

“This is the part where you beg for forgiveness,” she said in a breathy voice. All of her bravado went out the window as he smirked at her and traced a finger through the wetness between her legs. 

He moved teasingly slow as he continued to trace her, staying just outside where she wanted him, every other pass stopping to circle her clit. He kissed the inside of one thigh and then the other. Then he paused, staring up at her with eyes like blue flames, and lifted one of her legs to rest on his shoulder. The new position made her lean back against her hands. 

She moaned at the first touch of his lips. His tongue gently traced her clit and she squirmed all over again.

“Bruce,” she said like a plea. 

He listened to her unspoken demand and inserted a single finger into her so slowly she wanted to scream. His tongue worked her clit as his finger moved in and out of her. The sensation started to build and build and build. She reached out for an anchor with one hand, something, anything to keep her grounded. Her fingers threaded into Bruce’s hair. He hummed against her, eliciting a moan from her as the vibrations moved through her body. 

“Fuck,” she said because there was no other word for it. 

He pushed a second finger inside her. His movements started to quicken. 

Her orgasm built within her as he moved faster and faster. The sensation of his tongue on her clit coupled with two of his fingers inside her was almost too much. She couldn’t catch her breath. 

Bruce slid a third finger inside her and every muscle in her body clenched around him. 

She shuddered as the orgasm washed over her, pleasure rolling on waves throughout her body. 

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. Somehow, that was hotter than anything he’d done up until that point. The look in his eyes, feral and hungry, made her feel more naked than her actual nakedness. 

“How do you want me?” she asked, voice thick in the wake of her orgasm. Her body shuddered with an aftershock and Bruce’s piercing blue eyes didn’t miss any of it. He stood slowly, the bulk of him seeming to unfold little by little as he towered over her. He pulled his shirt off with one hand and somehow kept eye contact the whole time. 

He stepped between her legs and she shivered again. The air was cold but the warmth pouring from Bruce’s magnificent body was enough to keep her from feeling it. 

“How do you like it?” 

God, his fucking voice. Deep and sexy and with a hint of a growl that turned her on. 

How did she like it? Was he serious? She just wanted him inside her, she didn’t care where or how. 

“Just fuck me,” she said when she could find her voice. 

“You’re so bossy,” he said with half a smile as he bent to kiss her. 

She clutched his shoulders. “I mean it, Bruce,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster. “Fuck me. I have an IUD so we have nothing to worry about.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked after a second. He studied her face calmly as if she weren’t half-mad with lust. As if his cock wasn’t dripping for her, angled perfectly to go inside her. 

“I don’t know how I could make my consent any clearer.” She rolled her eyes. Then she realized that maybe Bruce wasn’t sure. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” he said against her lips, and then pushed into her so suddenly she cried out. 

She said every cuss word she knew which only served to make him laugh. The vibrations traveled between their connected bodies in a delicious way. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust to him, his lips moving up her neck and to her breasts and to her lips. 

“Fuck,” Bruce said as he began to move. She agreed with the sentiment. With her leaning back on the table, him between her legs, the angle was just right to immediately send shivers up and down her spine. Every thrust made her muscles clench. 

The feel of his cock within her was almost transcendent. She grabbed him tightly, pressing their bodies together, keeping him close to her as he thrust in and out. 

He slid a hand between them to circle her clit and she cried out as she came almost immediately. When she opened her eyes she expected to see that she had burst into flames. Bruce was staring at her again, his expression tight. 

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he said and the words almost made her do so again. 

“I bet you are too,” she said with a grin. She wrapped her legs around him so that their bodies were flush. The new angle made them both gasp. His big hands splayed across her back and her own hands tangled in his hair. He seemed to like it when she pulled, so pull she did. 

“Y/n…” he said into the crook of her neck. His thrusts picked up speed. She saw stars as his cock hit her just right, over and over and over. The grip she had on his hair was a lifeline now, the only thing grounding her and keeping her from exploding into a million tiny pieces. 

“Come inside me, Bruce,” she said. It wasn’t at all bossy like she’d intended it, but he groaned anyways. 

He rocked into her, harder and deeper than before, the sweat on their skin making their chests slide together. His fingers deftly swept over her clit again. Her cry echoed, almost a scream, as she came for the third time. 

Bruce wasn’t far behind. His thrusts stuttered, rhythm uneven, as his hips jerked into her. She could feel it spill out of her even as he continued to move. 

“Fuck,” he said as his hips slowly jerked to a stop. They were both panting. 

“Fuck,” she agreed. She was still clinging to him. They stayed tangled together for a minute more. Her body shivered with aftershocks every few seconds. Her mind was blissfully blank. Her limbs were warm, her body languid. She felt completely wrung out in the best way possible. 

Bruce kissed her jaw. His hands rubbed idle circles against her bare back. It was…sweet. She liked it. Usually the men she fucked pulled out and yanked their clothes back on in the same movement. 

“I had no idea Bruce Wayne was such a…generous lover,” she said, breath still heaving. 

“Now you know all of my secrets.” He toyed with her hair, his face softer than she’d ever seen it. She let her legs fall from around his waist. He stepped back, sliding out of her, and passed her a small towel from God only knew where. “It’s clean, I promise.” 

“I highly doubt I know all your secrets.” Their eyes met and they shared a smile. She cleaned herself up to the best of her ability. “I’d like to, though.” 

“Oh?” he said, and there was a vulnerability in his expression that wasn’t there before. 

“Feel free to say no, but I’d like to take you on a date.” She nudged him gently. She pulled her bra and underwear back on. 

“I’d like that. But I should pay.” He pulled up his sweatpants but left his shirt off. She couldn’t say she minded the view. 

“Oh, I only meant I was driving. You’re definitely paying.” 

He laughed, long and loud, and the sound stirred something in her gut. 

“Who knew that all you needed was to get laid to loosen up?” she teased as she gave him another playful nudge. 

“I doubt this is what Alfred had in mind when he said I needed someone to pick a fight with,” Bruce said with another slight laugh. “But it worked, didn’t it?” 

Y/n glanced around, suddenly panicked. “There aren’t security cameras in here, are there?”

Something glinted in his eyes. A playfulness, almost. “No, there aren’t.” 

She squinted at him, suspicious. “If you tell me know and I find out you’re beating off to the tape every night–” 

He laughed again, this one a short, surprised burst of sound. He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I promise there’s not.” 

She finished straightening her hair with a soft hmph. “Fine, fine. Date’s still on then, I guess.” 

Bruce leaned in and brushed a kiss to her temple. It was as if he couldn’t help it. As if the sex had softened all of his rough edges. Maybe it had softened her, too, because she couldn’t drum up an ounce of annoyance at him if she tried. In fact, she leaned into the touch. 

“Seriously,” she teased as she bent to pull her shoes back on. “It’s like you’re a different person.” 

“What can I say?” he said. He spread his hands. “You’re not all bad.” 

“Does this mean you’ll accept all my terms with the merger?” 

There was a long, long pause. “Absolutely not.” 

She snorted, and they fell into what was becoming their new routine of bickering as they went upstairs to get lunch.

[gothamitewriter]

Whumpcember Day 1: Broken Bones

Yes I am a day behind, shush. My roommate and I got distracted watching criminal minds last night.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne

Words: 1118

Warnings: Blood, violence, swearing

Summary: Dick goes in underprepared to a fight with a small-time mob boss, he isn't expecting the consequences.

Dick hadn’t expected to have any major issues upon moving to Bludhaven. Sure, the city has a higher rate of organized crime than almost any other in the country, but it was still nothing compared to the beast that is Gotham. What Dick hadn’t taken into account was that he was used to working as a team, either alongside Batman or with the Titans, and it was this miscalculation that led him to his current predicament.

The mob boss in front of him was a behemoth of a man, nothing compared to the likes of Blockbuster, but still far larger than Dick’s own frame. He wasn’t a big shot in anyway, just some drug trade, a few armed robberies, not too many minions. The only reason Dick was even bothering going after him was because the gang’s last robbery had been of a pharmaceutical company that Dick was currently investigating. What Dick hadn’t anticipated was that in order to carve out the tiny part of Bludhaven’s underground that he had, the boss was strong, vicious, and clearly well trained.

Both of Dick’s escrima sticks had been snapped in half and tossed aside, leaving him weaponless against a much stronger opponent. He was certain he could still win that fight, but it wasn’t going to be fun. Dick rushed forwards, using the boss’ higher center of mass against him as he sent the both of them tumbling to the ground, lashing out wildly at each other. Each of Dick’s movements were precise, muscle memory guiding him as he countered the overwhelming force he was faced with. He winced as he felt one of his ribs give way with a sickening crack, knowing that it was in all likelihood the first of many.

Dick twisted, sending a knee into the man’s groin, and using the opportunity it presented to make some distance between them, rolling across the ground. Shallow breaths entered Dick’s lungs, even the minute expansions enough to send radiating pain out from his ribs. The moment over, Dick dodged a punch that would have surely given him a concussion, retaliating with a succession of blows to the joints and other weak areas. Dick whipped his head around as a minion entered the room, and in the rush to avoid the bullets flying at him, Dick felt meaty hands grasp his neck.

Dick thrashed, trying desperately to free himself as his vision blurred and his eyes watered. His lungs burned, and while Dick was no stranger to oxygen deprivation, he was only human. Luckily, he saw he chance, he kicked at one of the broken escrima sticks on the ground near him, launching it across the room and knocking the gun out of the minion’s hands. As Dick twisted he silently screamed, something in his neck making a hideous crack as he head butted the mob boss, finally knocking him unconscious. Dick could taste blood on his tongue, could feel the adrenaline abandoning him and threatening to drop him into oblivion. With his last moments of awareness, Dick reached desperately for his emergency beacon, activating it just as he went limp.

—

Pain screamed through every inch of Dick’s body as he was woken by the sound of bodies hitting the floor and quick, light footsteps moving towards him. His eyes opened, squinting to see in the dark warehouse, relaxing as the bright primary colors of the Robin suit hovered above him.

“Nightwing! Are you okay? Batman is en route, he was caught up in a fight when your beacon came through.” Jason’s worried voice prompted Dick to take stock of his situation beyond the pure blinding pain. He opened his mouth to give a report only to twist to the side as blood spilled out of his mouth.

“Shit, shit, that is not good. Fuck. Okay, stay on your side, I think that’s supposed to keep the airway clear? Or is that for vomit?” Dick reached out, placing a comforting hand on Jason’s boot, giving a shaky, blood-stained smile.

“I’m okay,” He signed, like a liar.

“I don’t believe you, where else are you injured, Dickhead?” Dick gestured vaguely to all of him, before pointing at the rib which was aggressively protesting his new body position.

“Broken, I think,” as his hands moved, slowly as Jason was still learning ASL, another spurt of blood forced its way past Dick’s lips, leaving him gasping as he coughed up what was probably way too much blood.

“Yeah no shit, you look like you were run over by the Batmobile,” if you call the a small-time mob boss with way too much combat skill the Batmobile, sure.

“Distract me?” Dick managed through more painful coughs that shifted his broken rib dangerously.

“I can be distracting! Let’s see.. Oh! I got an A on my presentation for English class, I got some points off for pronunciation, but I think they just don’t like my accent. I really liked the book we read, though. I might read it again once it’s summer break. It’s so annoying the way they don’t let us read ahead when we’re reading for assignments, though. The way they assign the chapters we always end off on a cliffhanger!” Jason had sat down on the floor next to Dick, helping him shift more firmly on to his side while they waited for Bruce to arrive.

“They’re teaching patience,” Dick did his best to sign clearly while moving in a way that wouldn’t possibly shift his rib even more.

“That’s dumb, it’s English class, shouldn’t it be a good thing that I want to read more? Who just puts down a book when the chapter ends on a cliffhanger? No one! I thought they were supposed to teach you things that apply to real life,” Jason pouted, throwing his head back dramatically in a way that caused his curly dark hair to bounce around his head before settling back into place.

Finally Dick was saved from the teenage melodramatics (which, admittedly, he had asked for and did help to distract him), a shadowed figure entering Dick’s field of vision in a way that immediately let Dick know that Bruce was here.

“Robin, what is Nightwing’s status?” Batman barked out. Jason scrambled to his feet, listing off the injuries that he had been able to see.

“I think he should be safe to move? But even if he isn’t we really need to, he’s losing blood from some sort of internal injury and if we don’t hurry he’s going to drown in it.”

“Right, up you go, chum,” Dick hissed out a breath as he was lifted off the ground by strong arms, hard body armor digging in. “Let’s bring you home.”

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Consultant: Morgan le Fey Case | Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!OC ft. the Justice League

Synopsis: After the events of Angels & Demons, the Justice League now turns to Vivian for certain cases that they nor the JLA Dark can handle.

Note: This is a long chapter with almost 15 000 words.

Ever since she regained her powers from the binding, Vivian has been called to the Justice League to consult on certain cases. As much as possible, they would go to their magical experts in the League but sometimes Zatanna and the other members of the Justice League Dark got their hands full, or the cases were beyond their knowledge. In this case, Zatanna was the one who told them that their best option was either John Constantine, who was currently hiding so well the JLA was unable to find, or Vivian Pryor.

“John’s a human mage, he knows more about dark magic than I do,” she decided to leave the fact he was infected with demon blood. “And Vivian, they were close. She may be homo-magi like me but her practices are influenced by John.”

“Because he taught her,” Wonder Woman concluded.

“Yes, and there is also the fact she’s a descendant of generations of witches that goes beyond the Salem Witch Hunt. Then there is also the fact that she’s a professor who studies symbols and icons, she also uses that knowledge in her magic. If there’s anyone who can deal with dark magic, it’s those two. It’s how they can stand the feeling of using dark magic I can never comprehend.”

Problem was, Batman just gave Vivian’s reply to the JLA’s invitation, which was a “thanks but no” – not her exact words but that’s how Hal took it. Knowing the Bat and how protective he was of his personal life, especially towards his family, it won’t be easy to ask him to have her help. 

Their best option was to approach Vivian themselves and ask her. 

They can’t go to her in their hero identity, so Clark and Diana approached her while in their civilian identities as Clark Kent, reporter, and Diana Price, museum curator. On this particular day, Vivian is working at Gotham Museum, making it easy for them to call for her without arousing suspicion from her colleagues. 

After asking for Vivian at the front desk, the two led to a certain part of the museum by the attendee and were brought to the Wayne Family Wing where Bruce Wayne stood in his suit, admiring the large painting on the wall.

Shit.

Of course, he would find out first.

The attendee told Bruce that the guests were there and then left, closing the wing’s door after him.

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark greeted him first.

“This was painted by a Gothamite artist back in the beginning of the 20th century,” Bruce began. “It was inspired by The Triumph Of Christianity Over Paganism by Gustave Doré. But instead of Christianity triumphing over pagan belief, the Gothamite artist placed the five founding families being triumphant over angels and demons. There has been a debate if the artist’s message was supposed to show the hubris of Gotham’s Founders, or the resilience of Gothamites over natural and supernatural disasters. Man killing gods. ”

“Bruce,” Diana started.

Bruce faced them, frowning. “Do you really think I wouldn’t know if you entered Gotham?”

“It’s important, Vivian is the only one who can help us and you know it,” said Clark.

“I may not like this but this is her decision to make.”

“Then what’s this whole show then?”

“To remind you not to go behind my back ever again. Especially when bringing my wife into this business.”

The sound of boots clicking on the floor caught their attention, and entering from the other closed door was Vivian Pryor-Wayne, dressed in her daily work outfit with her tweed jacket, turtleneck, and skirt. 

“I just finished my lecture,” Vivian informed them, “Sorry if I took so long.”

“They didn’t make an appointment,” said Bruce and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“So, what can I do for you both?”

“Is there a place we can speak privately?” Clark asked.

“Don’t worry, the area is secured. I placed a spell to keep our discussions from leaving the room. No one will hear us, even if they try to listen in. So, what can I do for the Justice League? I assume it is the Justice League since you went behind Batman’s back to talk to me and failed. But good effort.”

“Morgan le Fay.”

“Ah! Good old Morgana.”

“We assume you've encountered her?” Diana said.

“Yes, I have. Not a very good encounter too. Especially with her son, Mordred. He's a bit of a mama's boy. What did the incestuous sorceress do now?”

Clark took note of the descriptive word Vivian used on the sorceress but decided not to mention it. Instead, he offered his mind to show the cases they have found recently. Using her magic, Vivian used one of the old mirrors in the exhibit display and had the memories appear in replace of their reflection. 

“Multiple accounts of bodies suddenly in that state were found in numerous places in London. Zatanna was the one to identify it was dark magic used. For the castor, Green Lantern was the one who saw the case and had to retreat when he too was almost…”

“When his soul and life force was almost sucked in by the sorceress,” Vivian continued, her eyes never leaving the mirror as she studied the scenes.

“Why wasn't I informed about this?” Batman demanded.

“You were busy in your own missions, Batman,” said Diana, as if it were enough to explain to one of the founding members of the Justice League. It wasn't.

“So, what do you think she's doing? A power-grab? Some tool she needs to power up for? Superman asked.

“No. Mortal souls cannot power any magical tool — unless you want to create the Alchemyst's Stone,” Vivian pondered aloud.

“You mean the Philosopher's Stone?” 

Vivian looked closer to the scene where Green Lantern got a good look at Morgana. Her face. “She's aging. Her immortality is fading… why?”

“You're the expert here, Viv.”

Vivian closed the mirror spell with a wave of a hand and turned to them. “I'll take a look at this. See why the old bat is getting old and try to reason with her.”

“How about you apprehend her?” Diana said.

“I'm not a member of the Justice League, and with good reason,” Vivian shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “There's an unspoken rule in our community. We don't mind each other's business and we don't find ourselves killed. It's either I leave you alone or I kill you. This is dark magic, we can't just hold hands and hope fore rehabilitation or hope for the system to do its job. People like Morgan le Fey do not submit to any kind of jurisdiction.

“The best I can do is to see what’s wrong, help her out so she stops this soul sucking gig she's started. If you want to apprehend her, do it after I do my thing make it look like I wasn't part of it.”

“That’s not how the League operates,” said Diana.

“It's survival. There's a whole world of dark magic users, and I don't want to be marked as a whistleblower. It's a one way trip to hell. The magical community is vast, Wonder Woman. We lurk amongst mortals without them nor the JLA knowing, but we know each other, and it's easy to find that one person who told the JLA about Morgan le Fey and helped them. If you want my help. Those are my terms. I talk to her, give her what she needs but I don't let you take her. For my sake and for Bruce and my family, I'll need to take you down too.”

Bruce smirked and turned to Superman and Wonder Woman, “Well? Do you still want her as a consultant?”

Reluctant, Superman and Wonder Woman nodded and said, “Yes. We'll agree to your terms.”

“Great,” Vivian clapped her hands and her work clothes changed to a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt, and a long, maroon coat that fanned around whenever she moves; and in her hands a thin and sharp hair stick appeared which she used to tie her hair. It was both an accessory and a weapon. “Let's go!”

“Just like that?” Superman said.

“Well, do you want Morgana to suck more souls?”

“No.”

“I'm coming with you,” Batman said. “I'll change in the car.”

“You brought the Batmobile?” Clark asked.

“No, but we're taking my car first and then meet the Batmobile somewhere,” said Vivian. “I don't suppose you two are coming along?”

“There's no space,” Bruce stated.

“It's a five seater, Bruce,” Clark stated. “I've seen Vivian's car.”

“There's still no space.”

“He's embarrassed to change while you're in there,” she teased her husband. “But this isn't turf, Superman. Your vibrant red and blue don't blend in with the darkness.”

“Robin wears red, green, and yellow, Viv,” Clark countered.

“It's more of a rank thing really. The baby bird isn't ready to blend in the night just yet.”

“I thought Jason was baby bird?” 

“He's grown out of it. Imagine calling a hulking man ‘baby bird’. So, I'll have Batman was my personal escort around — send him the details and I'll be sending you the bill right after.”

“Are you going to charge us?” 

“Kidding! Not really,” she whispered in the last part.

~*~

Driving into the crypts brought nostalgia to Vivian. These were the very same crypts that she and Bruce went to on their first mission together when Deacon Blackfire killed her agent and tried to kill her to bathe in her blood. After closing this part of Gotham, Bruce went back and made it look like the place was blocked away from  the public, but he actually turned it to a secret place for meet ups with the Batmobile.

“Not a stone nor dirt out of place,” Vivian giggled as she saw the gargoyles she summoned to life and protect Batman from Deacon's followers and cage them.  . “How sweet of you.”

Batman smiled. “Nostalgic?”

“Yeah, it was my very first case with the Batman.”

Bruce chuckled, he took Vivian's hand and caressed the rings she wore. Her engagement ring and wedding band. “Who would have thought a case involving a murder and Deacon Blackfire wanting to kill you for your blood would lead to this.”

“Who would have thought indeed,” Vivian got on her toes and placed a kiss on his lips. “Alfred's running late.”

Bruce wrapped his arms around her. “I don't mind.”

Grinning, Vivian brought him down for another kiss, this time much deeper and passionate –

“Well, this is…” Clark's voice echoed in the dark crypt.

Breaking the kiss, Vivian and Batman found the Kryptonian floating a few feet above ground looking at them. 

“What are you doing here?” Batman questioned him.

“Diana and I thought it would be best if I come along, incase of back-up.”

“I'm back-up.”

“No offense, Clark, but to be honest, I think J'onn would be more suitable for this mission. Or Dinah and Oliver,” said Vivian.

“What's the problem with having me around?”

“They're inconspicuous.” 

“Batman is a known founding member of the Justice League,” 

“Yeah, he blends in, and he's already built a name there.”

A years ago, during her and Bruce's date, they encountered a mystery of a wolf terrorizing Eastend. First problem: there were no wolves in Gotham. Second: if there was, there was no reports of the zoo losing one. Turns out the wolf was a man who was turned to a werewolf, and to help him, Vivian brought Bruce – who was in disguise as some random person – to one of the hidden clubs in Gotham that was run by a voodoo witch-doctor, Papa Midnite. It was there that Bruce saw the truth of the dark arts and the supernatural world. They were able to save the man who was turning into a werewolf by giving him a wolfsbane potion, which Vivian brew, and sent him back home to his family.

The Batmobile arrived, entering from the tunnels, and after parking beside Vivian's car, Alfred got out and greeted them. “Early shift, Sir?”

“Hi Alfred,” Clark greeted.

“There's a case that Vivian is needed by the JLA. Can you take her car back to the manor using the same route we took,” said Bruce.

“If I can drive that vehicle with so many buttons with half of it being a button to self-destruct or destroy a building, I'm sure I can manage a simple sedan,” said Alfred.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Vivian handed him the keys.

“Coffee, Mrs. Pryor?” the old butler handed her a thermos.

“You always know what I need,” she happily took the thermos.

“How many have you drunk since this morning?” Bruce asked. Vivian ignored him and got in the front seat of the Batmobile. “You're riding at the back.”

Clark sighed but smiled. “Figures.”

“And change, I have some civilian clothes there that would fit you.”

Superman floated to the back, sat down, and buckled in. Batman sighed and went to the driver's seat, he said goodbye to Alfred before closing the hatchet and driving away.

“So, that's the place you both met?” Clark spoke as he changed to the clothes Bruce mentioned.

“Not really met but where we ended the case,” said Vivian. “The first time I encountered Batman I was nineteen and just moved to Gotham. He saved me from some muggers who were about to… you know.”

“I see…”

“He was still clumsy then, too. Got stabbed a couple of times.”

“It was the first year, Viv,” said Batman. “You were nineteen then?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. I just remember how younger you are than me.”

Vivian reached out and caressed his cheek to reassure him that it shouldn't bother him too much. “Then after that, some other cases, like Firefly burning a club — saw Batman there, he got everyone to safety. Not that I needed saving then because of my magic.”

“You were out of practice.”

Vivian shrugged. “Then the other time at the bank.”

“You seem to have gotten in the middle of the crossfire of Gotham's crimes too often even before meeting Bruce,” said Clark.

“It's Gotham City.”

“The first official meeting we had was during her book launch,” Bruce spoke. “But as Bruce Wayne, the first time I met her as Batman was when Gordon had her in protective custody in a house at Gotham Heights.”

Vivian smiled at the memory. It was the first time that someone gave her that sense of safety whenever her magic made her sensitive to the ghosts around her. “Oh, turn here,” she told Batman.

“We're not going to the club?”

“We are, but we need to bring something for him — a trade.”

Vivian got out and bought something from the shop. It took her a little while but she returned with a bottle of brandy and vodka. 

Arriving at the club, Batman parked his car in the alleyway and followed Vivian. He told Clark to keep his head down and follow their lead as they descended the sketchy looking stairs and stood before a bouncer that was bigger than him and Bruce.

“Pyotr,” she greeted.

The man, Pyotr smiled, and for a moment his eyes shone red. “Vivian Pryor,” he greeted with a thick Russian accent.

Vivian got out a bottle. It was vodka. 

Pyotr sighed and spoke in old Russian, “Rules, Vivian.”

Vivian replied in the same language, “Please. You let me do it the last time.”

“Consequences.”

“I'll handle, Papa Midnite. Please.”

Pyotr looked at her as she pouted and sighed. He messed with her hair, making Vivian snicker, and took the bottle. “But first,” he showed the card where two ducks sat on a cloud.

“Two frogs on a bench,” she replied.

Pyotr moved aside and opened the door for her. She, Batman, and a disguised Clark entered the club where an eternal night was. Music blared loudly and luminous lights flashed around. People – rather, creatures and immortal beings were inside dancing, drinking, or fucking on the benches. Clark wasn't sure what to react with what he was seeing, it was just too much for him.

“Easy, boy scout,” Batman teased him. “This is just the first floor. The ones below are much, much darker.”

“There's more?” Clark said.

“The lower you go, the more things get complicated and unconventional. Keep up.”

The two men followed Vivian to the guarded double door where she spoke to the two… vampires. They looked at her then to Batman and Clark. “They're with me,” she told them. “And Papa Midnite wouldn't want my or my guests' blood all over the floor.”

Reluctantly, the two moved aside and let them through. Behind those doors, Clark was surprised to find the room quieter and more civilized. There was a library inside and a collection of magical items. The further they went in, Clark found himself disoriented. Weren't they in the basement earlier? How come they were now walking into a shop that had the view of another side of Gotham.

“Vivian Pryor,” Papa Midnite greeted her. “Welcome back.”

“Papa Midnite,” Vivian greeted and showed him the brandy. 

The witch-doctor accepted the gift and placed it on his desk. “I see you brought Batman again, and another one.”

“JLA business — they asked for a consultation.”

“Then you're getting paid.”

“Their payment is getting off my back for a couple of months. It's about Morgana.”

“Ah, the King's half-sister.”

“And the mother of his living child, Mordred.”

“You're going to turn her in?”

“No. My concern is just her stopping with the whole soul-sucking business. And to do that I need to help her gain her immortality and be off my merry way.”

“Why not take every bit of power she has?”

“I can't do that –”

“Can't you? You can if you wish — Phoenix. Destroyer of Worlds. Creator of Life. The Ouroboros.”

“So, you know.”

“Everyone knows. We all felt it, just as we felt it found its host in you, Vivian. Like I said,” he opened the bottle and poured it into two glasses. “Welcome back.”

Vivian took the glass and clinked it with Papa Midnite's own. “John helped with controlling it. And he's teaching me.”

“That does not sound like Constantine,” Papa Midnite moved around to look for something in his study. 

“He makes me take him to a pub right after.”

“That sounds like John,” Papa Midnite returned with a vial in hand. “Blood of the demon.”

“She's already a monster, Midnite.”

“Which is where the Alchemyst's Stone is needed. Normally to use the Stone, a hundred sacrifices is needed, but with this demon's blood, one drop is enough.”

“Why go through that massacre?” Clark spoke for the first time since they entered the shop. 

“Because it is easier to get a hundred souls than to call and fight the demon Mictlantecuhtli.”

“People die before they can even finish the ritual. Killing is far easier then,” Vivian took the vial and hid it in her coat's pocket. “The Stone?”

“I do not have it.”

Vivian sighed. “Do you know where it is?”

“You know who to ask.”

“Right…”

Smiling, Papa Midnite gave her another thing. A gallow's rope. “Safe trip, Vivian Pryor.”

Vivian accepted the rope and led Batman and Clark out of the store. This time Clark was really, really confused. How did they end up back where they came from? Even the Batmobile was there!

“Where to now?” Batman asked her.

“I need to ask the Fates where the stone is,” Vivian replied. “But first, I need to gather my offerings.”

“Offerings?” 

“I need a snake.”

“There's a pet store not far.”

“And a crossroads.”

“Does the intersection work?” 

Vivian laughed. “How about somewhere that's not in the middle of traffic? We can head to the Estate. There's a perfect crossroads there. First, can you get the snake?”

Batman nodded and went to the pet store across the road.

Clark went to her side and watched as Batman went inside, like it was a normal thing to do in his uniform. “I don't think I'll ever get used to this.”

“The magic or Batman going to a pet shop because I said pretty please?” Vivian smiled as she watched Batman point to the large snake in the tank and paid the store attendant.

“Both.”

Not long, Batman returned with the snake in the tank. Vivian reaches inside and lets the snake crawl around her arm and into the pocket of her coat, surprising the two men. 

“That was a snake, Vivian,” Batman pointed out. “And I paid for the tank.”

“Then take it back and get your money,” she teased.

“I'm more concerned with the snake in her coat,” said Clark.

“It'll be okay.”

“My concern is mostly for you.”

“I'll be alright. Let's go,” she got inside the car and acted normally, as if she were not holding a snake in her coat.

Superman turned to Batman and said, “Do you ever get used to this?”

“No. Not really. It's what makes our marriage interesting.”

~*~

It was deep into the Wayne Estate that Vivian found the crossroads she needed. Using the tree she had the gallows’ rope tied to it, and in the middle of the crossroads she stood. It was getting dark now, and in any minute the sun will be gone, making it the perfect time for her to make the call. 

Not far from where she stood, Batman and Superman stood by the Batmobile, watching. The latter was completely confused as to why Vivian had all of these prepared and for what. 

“I see,” Alfred appeared. “Another summoning ritual, Sir?”

“Yes.”

“This isn't the first time?” Superman asked them.

“No, but this is different from the last,” said Alfred.

“The last time she summoned a ghost to speak for another case,” said Batman.

“This is beyond interesting, Bruce,” Superman muttered.

Darkness came to the skies and in the middle of the crossroads, where she stood, fire appeared, burning the grass to create the symbol. Kneeling on the ground, Vivian began the ritual, “Maiden, Mother, Crone, your child, your blood, summons you. I heed your aid in this trial I face. I call for the aid of the Fates. The-Three-Who-Are-One, The-One-Who-is-Three. The Hecate.”

Lightning flashed in the once clear dark skies, and mist surrounded the area making it hard for the three men to see her. 

From where she stood, Vivian saw the silhouette of three women appearing. One a Crone, one an older woman, and one a maiden. They flashed before her, slowly approaching until they surrounded Vivian. The Fates have arrived.

“Vivian Pryor, it's been a while,” said the Maiden.

“You've grown since we last spoke, love,” said the Mother.

“You were but a wee child clutching to her mother's skirts when we last saw you,” said the Crone.

“But we've seen you. Watched you,” said the Maiden. “Grew with you,” she had Vivian stand.

A hand was placed on her belly. “And grieved with you,” said the Maiden.

“And saw your imminent return,” said the Crone. 

Vivian kept her head bowed but she would peek at the Fates, humbled before their presence. “I was just a child when I saw the Hecate… it was you who gave my mother the answers to hide my power and how to hide me.”

“Do you wish to hide, child?” The Mother asked.

“No. I do not. I am in need of your help.”

The Crone scoffed. “Another request. Pryor women.”

“Calm now, sister-self,” said the Mother.

“Vivian has brought gifts,” said the Maiden.

“Vivian opened her coat and lets the serpent slither from the pocket and to her arm where the Crone's hand met hers. The Mother welcomed the serpent and let it enter her mouth. Swallowing it whole was the Maiden.

“You may ask us three questions,” said the Crone.

“And get one answer from each of us,” said the Maiden.

“Thank you,” Vivian bowed her head. “My first question: The Alchemyst's Stone. It was once owned by the witch-doctor, Midnite, where is it?”

It was the Maiden who answered: “It was last seen and bought by a wealthy man.”

For a moment, Vivian saw an auction take place and shown at the stage was the Alchemyst's Stone. The beautiful stone wrapped in gold and encased in glass. She sat in the back with the Maiden at her side and watched as a bald man raised the highest bid and bought the item.

“When was this?” Vivian asked the Maiden.

“Vivian,” the Maiden laughed lightly. “One question, one answer.”

They have returned from the scene and Vivian stood before the Mother. “Next question: The Arcana. Where can I find it?”

It was the Mother who gave the answer: “It has been in the possession of a Demon in the shadows.”

She watched from the corner of the room as the man wearing a green cloak place the Arcana back on the shelf. She didn't need to see his face to know who he was. 

A frown etched to her mouth, “Ras al Ghul. Where is he now?”

They have returned to the crossroads. “One question, one answer!” The Mother reminded her.

“My last question then,” Vivian said. “How did Morgan le Fey lose her immortality?”

It was the Crone who stood before her and gave the answer: “Bold question, child.”

“My last question,” she told the Crone. 

The Crone looked at her for a moment and answered, “Promises left unkept tires the patient son.”

“Mordred,” Vivian watched as the blond boy stood in his castle. “How did he do it?”

“YOU HAVE ASKED YOUR QUESTIONS, ONEIDES!” The Fates flashed before her, merging their forms until they disappeared as if they never were there, and taking with them the gallows. 

Returning to where the three men stood Vivian was met by Batman's question: “Did they come?”

“Yes, they did,” she replied.

“We didn't see them, it was just you we saw the entire time. Did you get what you need?” Superman asked.

“I did. I got names. Leads,” Vivian took a breath. “There are two things we first need to find. The Alchemyst's Stone is close by, problem is it's in the possession of someone you won't like.”

“Who is it?” Batman asked.

“Lex Luthor.”

“I'm not even surprised. What else?”

“The Arcana. You won't like the answer for this — rather, I don't like the answer. It's with Ras al Ghul.”

Batman frowned.

“And I know who took Morgana's immortality. But first those two things,” Vivian turned to Superman. “I can't just take the Stone, Luthor needs to give it to me.”

“It just so happens,” Alfred spoke. “Mr. Luthor has an event tomorrow night. You might be able to sway him to give the Stone. Mr. Luthor has shown his fondness of Ms. Vivian – apologies for my implication, Ma'am.”

“Well, you are right about that, Alfred,” Vivian shrugged. “Even if it creeps me out.”

“It looks like we'll be attending Luthor's event tomorrow night after all,” Bruce muttered. “I don't like this. Not one bit.”

“Neither do I… we'll call you once we got everything, Clark,” Vivian said to the Kryptonian. “Tonight, Bruce and I are just going to visit Damian's grandfather… do you think he'd like to come along? I mean, Talia will be there too.”

“I think it would be nice… do you want to stay behind?” 

“No. I wanna look Talia in the eye, and besides, Ras al Ghul will wonder what you need it for.”

“I'll tell him it's an errand for my wife.”

“I'm still going. Last thing I need is Talia doing something — she might get a piece of your hair and make another kid with you using that.”

“I don't think that's how…” Clark trailed off.

“You get the point!”

~*~

Sitting in the back of the Batjet, Damian Wayne awkwardly watched as his father and his surrogate mother sat silently through the whole flight. This was the first time they were quiet in a long while. He knew it had to do with the fact they were visiting his grandfather and his mother, and normally Damian wouldn't care but when it comes to Batman and Vivian, it was concerning. 

“Tell me again, why do we need to see them?” Damian asked.

“That's how shared custody works,” Vivian muttered.

Bruce sighed. “There's a book we need to get. Vivian thought you might want to see your mother and your grandfather.”

“I see,” his gaze went to the back of Vivian's headrest where he could see locks of her auburn hair peeking at him. “I'll keep watch on Mother. Make sure she does not do anything she's not supposed to.”

At the front, Vivian smiled. Reaching out, Bruce took Vivian's hand and filled the gaps between her fingers. He leaned down a little to meet her hand to kiss. A simple gesture but it was enough to defuse the tension. It made Damian smile. 

Arriving at the Headquarters of the League of Assassins. Batman landed his jet at one of the bases of the mountain and the three of them entered Ras al Ghul's tower using Vivian's magic. No need to sneak through the many guards when they have a shortcut.

Stepping inside, Ras al Ghul did not mind them until he's poured himself a drink. “Detective, nice of you to let me see my grandson,” said Ras al Ghul. When he turned to see them, he faltered when he saw Vivian. “I was not expecting your wife.”

“Ras al Ghul,” Vivian greeted.

“Grandfather,” Damian stood before him. “Where is Mother?”

Ras looked at them for a moment and then called for his daughter. A moment later, the door opened and a woman with brown hair and green eyes came. The same green eyes as Damian. 

“Damian,” Talia said, quite surprised at their presence. “Beloved.”

Vivian frowned at what she called Bruce.

“Talia,” Bruce said, coldly.

Talia's gaze then turned to Vivian. “You're here.”

“Nice to see you too, Talia,” Vivian muttered. Turning to Damian, she pulled down his hood and brushed her hand through his hair. “Go to her,” she said with a soft tone.

Damian gave Vivian a soft gaze and squeezed the hand on his shoulder before coming to see his mother.

“What is this visit about?” Talia questioned. “Have you grown tired of seeing our son?”

“I've accepted Damian as one of my own,” Vivian said.

“But he is not. He is mine and Bruce's. He looks so much like him, doesn't he? Our perfect boy.”

“Talia,” Ras warned her. Surprising his daughter.

Vivian turned away from Talia and approached Ras al Ghul. “I need to speak to you.”

“Of course,” Ras al Ghul bowed slightly. “Follow me, Phoenix.” He led her to another door which was his study. Closing the door behind him, Ras al Ghul said, “You trust me so easily.”

“I don't,” Vivian said.

“Yet  you easily turn your back to me.”

Vivian turned to him with a smirk. “But you wouldn't dare now, wouldn't you? You know what I can do before you can even blink.”

Ras al Ghul chuckled. “You are learning the ways of your husband… or the ways of your second son.”

“It was Jason who learned from me.”

“He has always been close with you — when he was revived from the Pit, the first thing he looked for was you.”

Vivian touched the locket that rest on her chest. “Dick is my first son, but I didn't really feel like a mother until he grew up and moved out. With Dick, he's someone I can count on. Someone who was there since the very beginning. With Jason, I got to be that. I got to be a mother.”

“What brings the Hostess of the Creator of Life in my presence?”

“The Book of Arcana. I am in need of it.”

“And you cannot have it unless I give it willingly to you,” said Ras as he went to the shelf where he kept the book for so long. “Here,” he handed the book to her.

“That easy?” Vivian raised a brow at him.

“Yes.”

“I thought there'd be like a negotiation or something,” Vivian took the book from his hold. 

“I have memorized its content. I have no need of it. And I think taking in the son of your husband with my daughter is painful enough.”

Vivian frowned. “Like I said, Damian is mine, just as Dick, Jason, and Tim are mine.”

“But there is still the bitterness, yes?”

“Towards Talia? Yes. Damian? None,” Vivian hid the book in her coat. “Thank you for that, we'll be taking our leave now.”

Ras al Ghul nodded and lets Vivian leave the room. In the previous room, she saw Batman still standing where he was while Talia sat on the couch with Damian standing at her side. The two were speaking but ended when Damian saw Vivian and said, “Are you finished, Mom?”

“Mom?!” Talia sneered.

“Yes. Let's go!” Vivian smiled and had Damian under her arm. “Say goodbye to your Mother.”

“That was quick,” Batman said to her.

“Ras was cooperative today,” Vivian shrugged.

“Until next time, Beloved,” Talia told Bruce, and ignored Vivian.

Bruce glared at Talia and called for Damian so they can leave. The boy did not wait and jumped out of the window, then used his grappling to catch him. When it was their turn, Vivian was about to levitate her and Bruce but he told her to wait. About to ask, Bruce cut her off with a deep and passionate kiss. She was surprised at first but then a smile crept to her lips and kissed back. When Bruce wrapped his arms around her, she cupped his face and tried to pull away but Bruce followed her.

“Bruce,” she said between kisses. “She gets the point.”

“Are you still pissed?” He murmured against her lips.

She shook her head and kissed him once, “No. Not anymore. Let's go home, my love.”

Bruce kept his arms around her and jumped them off the tower where he used his grappling to land them safely where Robin was.

“What took you so long?” Damian demanded.

“I said goodbye to your mother,” Vivian shrugged.

He raised a brow at them. “And what did she say?”

“She'll see you at Christmas,” she patted Damian's cheek.

“Really?” Damian turned his back to them. “Next time, make sure to turn off your comms before doing something so disgusting, Father.” He marched towards the jet and went inside.

“Please don't tell me…” Vivian muttered.

“Yeah, we all heard it,” Oracle spoke through their comms, which Bruce put on speaker for her to hear. “Hi, Viv.” 

“Hi, Barbara… patrol night?”

“Patrol night. The boys have a lot to say…” She turned back their comms and then voices overlapping each other were heard.

“FUCKING KILL ME AGAIN!” Jason exclaimed.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT SOUND! AUGH! IT'S AAAHHH!” It was Tim.

“Hey, Babs, don't hold it against me if I don't kiss you anytime soon…” Dick said with a defeated sound.

“How's Cass?” Vivian asked, quite concerned.

“Quiet. Really quiet. Spoiler's with her trying to explain what was… she's trying to get her back to the land of the living,” said Barbara. “And if Duke is a little off for the next few days, you know the reason. Kate might tease you about it, so will Harper. But definitely Kate.”

“Thanks, Babs,” Vivian sighed. “Sorry…”

“We're going home. We'll be in Gotham in a couple of hours,” Batman told her.

“DON'T BOTHER COMING TO PATROL! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'LL DO IF I SEE YOU! AUGH!” Jason exclaimed.

“Understood.”

“You think you got it rough, Todd? I'm the one stuck with them for hours in this flight!” Damian called out in their comms.

“Copy… Batman, out.”

Bruce sighed, but still took Vivian's hand and helped her climb the jet. Once inside, Vivian turned to Damian and saw him in a deep shade of red as he tried to distract himself with his video game. 

“Did you have fun seeing your mother and grandfather?” Vivian asked him.

“Excuse me if I don't talk to either of you during this flight. I was traumatized by hearing the sound of my parents eating each other's faces in front of my biological Mother.”

“Right, again, sorry.”

~*~

It was hard getting out of bed to get ready for Luthor's event. Since he came home early from Wayne Enterprise, Bruce immediately went to Vivian's study where she spent the entire day reading through the Arcana and watching Morgan le Fey's movements with multiple mirrors, and pulled her away from everything. He promised her he'll only take her from her reading an hour max, but Bruce took his time and made his mark on her for hours on end. 

He knew Vivian would never look at another man, especially Lex Luthor, but remembering the first encounter she had with Lex – which was when they were still dating and he took her to one of Luthor's events as part of his cover to get intel — he didn't like how the man held Vivian in the dance while he snuck around the building to find Lex’s servers.

Just thinking about it had him lasting longer with anger fueling him more and more. It made him want to bite down hard enough to leave a mark but knew better than to do so. He'll have to restrain himself. Vivian joked as they made love earlier, “If you want him to know that I'm yours, well done. Because I don't think I'll be able to walk later if you keep going this pace, my love.”

Bruce realized that he was being too rough, which Vivian liked, but after hearing that his pace became steady and more loving.

Now, in their bedroom, Bruce finished fixing his tie and putting on his watch. As he placed his earpiece, he tested it to see if Vivian had hers on.

“Do you hear me, Viv?” Bruce asked.

“Loud and clear, Bruce,” Vivian said through their comms as she stepped out wearing her blue gown with the blue velvet, body hugging gown with the cape-like effect of the chiffon fabric that were attached to her lowered sleeves. “Can you hep me with these?” She showed him the diamond necklace.

“I don't recall giving you this,” Bruce said as he took his place behind her and helped clasping the necklace.

“You didn't. Luthor did.”

He frowned.

“It was his wedding gift.”

“I thought wedding gifts were for the couple?”

“You know how he is…” Taking his hands, Vivian placed them around her and she leaned back on his shoulder. “Just for tonight… besides, after earlier, I doubt I'd look at another man,” she teased him.

Bruce hummed in amusement. “I hate the fact you're dressing up for him.”

“We need the Stone, Bruce.”

“I know.”

“Besides, the diamonds may be for him, but this,” she led his hands from her waist and up to her crotch, purposely letting him linger there, then up to her chest where his hands brushed over where her nipples were, and then one of his hands to her neck. “All of this is for my husband.”

“He's a lucky man.”

“I'm the lucky one.”

“Trust me, Viv. I'm the lucky one,” Bruce kissed her cheek. 

“It'll take us a couple of hours to get to Metropolis if we're driving. We need to go.”

“Just an hour,” Bruce said. “Depends on traffic. We're taking the car and the yacht.”

“You know, I always forget that you got a yacht that can fit a car.”

“We have a yacht, Viv.”

Coming to the sitting room where everyone was mostly at the moment watching some show before heading down to the cave and start patrol, it was Cassandra who first noticed them and tugged on Stephanie’s shirt and pointed at their direction. 

“Wow, you’re looking good, Viv,” said Stephanie.

“Thanks, Steph,” Vivian smiled as she accepted the faux fur coat that Alfred prepared for her. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“So, this is what you wear for covert operations, huh?” Kate smirked, teasingly. “Not bad, Viv.”

“Not always.”

“Just when you need to seduce and trick Lex Luthor to giving you a magical stone that requires a hundred-soul sacrifice to work?” Tim added.

“Yes, that. The thing with the Stone is he needs to give it to me willingly. No tricks or influences of magic. Or else…”

“Consequences,” they finished.

“Where’s Dick and Jason?” Bruce asked.

“They’ll be here in a bit, they just went out to get some snacks,” said Duke.

“But you’ll be on patrol in a couple of hours,” Bruce checked his watch.

“Hey, come on! We still got a couple of hours to kill. Might as well do something that’s normal. You should be proud of us,” said Stephanie.

“Wrong parent, Steph,” said Tim.

“Right. Vivian’s the cool-one. Bruce is the… yeah, he’s Bruce.”

The sound of the front door opening caught their attention despite the sitting room being far from the entryway, but Dick does know how to make an entrance. “Sorry, I’m late!” Dick called out as he and Jason came in with a bag of snacks. “Got caught in traffic. Couldn’t leave Jason there, could I?”

“You can and you should have,” said Damian.

“What the fuck is this?” Jason said when he saw Vivian wearing the dress that was too revealing for her in his opinion. “Ma, cover up!”

“Jason, I am,” said Vivian.

“Those, cover up those!” Jason removed his jacket and was about to throw it over her but she caught the thing midair with magic and threw it back at him.

“No. It took me hours to get the hair done and my make-up, you are not going to ruin it.”

Jason threw his jacket away and turned to Bruce with a menacing look, telling him to do something. But all he got from the man was, “The only thing I don’t love is the necklace.”

“Why?” Duke asked.

Dick had a knowing smirk. “Because that’s a wedding gift from Lex Luthor – and before you ask, remember the time when you both went on your honeymoon and I was left here with Alfred to fix all the presents?”

“But they were all still wrapped when we got back.”

“I called in a favor from Superman – it was Alfred’s idea really, so we could find if there’s anything that needs to be refrigerated or stored properly because who knows when you two were coming back. And Clark saw that with the congratulations card signed by Luthor… he said some other things too but let’s stick with the congrats.”

“Been keeping that for a long time, haven’t you? Waiting for the right time to tell us?” Vivian walked up to Dick and pulled his ear teasingly.

“Not really. I was supposed to bring it to my grave, but I guess after a decade in the marriage it’s a good time to tell. You didn’t even notice the missing whipcream there… oh shit,” Dick’s face fell.

Vivian smirked. “Let me guess it was Veronica Vreeland who gave it, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let that sink in, kiddo,” Vivian patted his cheek.

A mix of “Eeew!” and laughter from the others.

“Excuse me as I throw away the whip cream I bought for tonight’s junk food night…” Dick said his goodbye to them and went to the kitchen.

Turning to Jason, Vivian sighed and faced him with a sympathetic smile. She pried his arms from how they folded over his chest and held his hands. “Thank you, for always looking after me, and I am glad that there is still a gentleman inside this,” she poked at his heart. “There are just some things I need to do to get the job done.”

Jason sighed and reached for his pocket and pulled out a stylish hairstick. “This was supposed to be for your birthday but you might need it tonight.”

“What is that?” Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian crowded over his shoulder to see.

“Get off me!” Jason told them and sighed once again. He went behind her and stuck it just where the pins were and was an eye-catching accessory with its sophisticated design of a snake. To Jason. “I found this in some warehouse from a man stealing some artifacts. It’s some old Nordic hairpiece. It’s made of bone, so it won’t sound an alarm. He tries anything, you stab him – don’t think just do.”

Smiling, Vivian reached out to Jason and brushed his cheek. “My sweet boy, always looking out for me. Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, yeah, and after doing the job — just cover up,” Jason muttered and looked away. “But you do look beautiful, Ma.”

“We better get going,” Bruce told her. “Kate, I’ll leave everyone to you, Dick, and Barbara.”

Kate saluted lazily.

“See you guys when you get back.”

“Alfred’s going too?” Damian asked.

“He’s the one whose going to bring home the yacht.”

Saying theri goodbye, Vivian and Bruce were about to leave the Manor when Damian called for them. The boy ran up to Vivian and wrapped his arms around her. 

“He does something to you, tell me. I’ll make him pay,” said Damian. “This is your first mission, Batman will understand if you accidentally stabbed Luthor at the neck.”

Bruce frowned.”Damian.”

“Right?” Damian glared at his father.

“It won’t come to that.”

“How lucky I am to have sons who are willing to gouge out someone’s eye to protect me,” she teased. She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Damian. We now need to go or else we’ll be late.”

Getting in the car which Alfred brought to the front, Vivian and Bruce got in the back and watched as their home grew distant from their gaze.

“We’ll be at the harbor shortly, Master Bruce. Traffic seems to be at our side,” said Alfred.

“Perfect, thanks, Alfred,” said Bruce.”

“And Ms. Vivian, there is something that I prepared for you under the seat. Master Bruce, if you please.”

Bruce reached down and pulled out the item. “Is this one of my taser darts?”

“Yes, and I fashioned it to look stylish for Ms. Vivian to wear. She will be doing this operation alone.”

“Aw, I feel touched that everyone is worried for me… how come you didn’t give me this when I had my other cases before?”

“With ghosts, and demons, and the creatures of the dark, you understand survival is necessary. You understand the nature of dark magic and the consequences it has. You follow your own code when in your element. But this time, this is not the darkness, here you follow the Batman’s code. Best to prepare tonight for something you are entirely new at. Not to mention you cannot use your magic.”

Vivian smiled. “Thank you, Alfred. This means a lot.” She slipped on the bracelet and turned to Bruce to say, “What’s next? Tim’s making me a mech suit and Damian’s giving me a sword?”

“I was thinking more of a uniform first to hide your identity,” said Bruce.

“Yeah… no. Not into the whole spandex and kevlar thing. I like my work clothes. It’s practical. Besides, John doesn’t have the cape and tights, so why should I? I’m a consultant, remember?”

Bruce chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

The yacht ride to Metropolis was serene, and it would have been romantic if Diana have not called to inform them of Morgan le Fey’s movements. The sorceress was at it again and they still don’t have the stone. Good thing is, Vivian knew how to help Morgan le Fey regain her immortality, and who it was that took it from her. But she still did not say who. 

At Metropolis, Alfred drove the couple to New Troy, Metropolis where LexCorp headquarters was. Arriving at the venue, the butler commented how they were just right on time with how most of the people are now almost inside, giving the Waynes the spotlight they needed to capture Lex Luthor’s attention.

Thanking Alfred, Bruce opened the door and stepped out. He smiled and nodded at the press who were now turning their attention and their cameras at them, all calling for him to look at their direction. But Bruce ignored them as he reached inside the car to help Vivian out. More camera flashes came and Vivian forced a smile as she greeted them all with a wave. Bruce kept his hand on her back and acted as some sort of shield between her and the cameras, knowing how Vivian never liked walking down these carpets during events, while still giving her the spotlight she deserved.

Just as they expected, the crowd calling out “the Waynes are here!” caught the attention of many who were inside. There were those who came out to greet them and complimented the couple for their coordinated and stunning attire, and then there was Lex Luthor who met them halfway through the carpet and greeted them.

“Bruce Wayne,” Lex said first but didn’t offer a hand to shake, then he turned to Vivian. “Professor Vivian Pryor,” he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “A pleasure as always to see you again. Ah! I see you’re wearing my little gift.”

“I thought it would fit the occasion, this is a celebration of your new division opening. Congratulations for the successful start on Luthor Foundation for the Arts.”

“You know me, Viv, I’m a man of  many interests and arts is one of them,” Luthor said.

“Right.”

Luthor was about to invite her inside for some drinks but Mercy came and whispered to him that the event was about to start officially and he was to give his speech. “Excuse me, Viv, I need to go. Maybe right after I give my whole speech, I can show you what the Foundation is about, and who knows, you might be interested in working there too.”

“Poaching my wife while I’m right here, Luthor?” Bruce spoke. “You really have no shame.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Luthor shrugged and was already backing away to head back inside. “Come inside, there’s drinks, food, and the whole spiel abouf the plans for Luthor Foundation for the Arts, and something big!”

Luthor gone, Bruce made his hold on Vivian’s waist known to all as he leaned down and whispered to him, “The hand. Use Jason’s gift for the hand and Alfred’s token at his neck.”

Vivian chuckled, turning to him she placed a kiss on the side of his lips, making the press go wild and flash their cameras more. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s go, I’m kind of curious about what he’s unveiling.”

They entered the building and the noise of the press died down.

“Luthor is starting a division in Luthor Technologies that’s working on a top secret project. He’s hiring archivists around the world, and after that little attempt to get you to join Luthor Foundation of the Arts, he wants you – a renowned symbologist and iconologist – on his team.”

“What does Luthor Tech want archivists in there? A little odd don’t you think?” Vivian whispered.

“Take a guess.”

Vivian frowned. “Magic.”

Bruce nodded. “Looks like you have a new case coming up after this.”

“Looks like I do… and I have a feeling it has something to do with the Stone.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s wearing it right now,” Vivian watched the man of the hour on stage as he gave his spiel on LexCorp’s new projects. She didn’t care about what the man had to say at all, what she cared about was the brooch he wore. The red stone wrapped with a frame of gold. The Alchemyst’s Stone used a brooch.

A sacred and powerful magical item that was fought for, killed for, and passed on through generations until lost during World War II, was now being used as a brooch by someone like Lex Luthor.

“How about the neck with Jason’s gift and the balls with Alfred’s token?” Vivian said.

“Just make sure you’re a good shot to avoid major blood vessels, the spinal cord and airway, and aim for the part where there’s softer tissue.”

“Hold him down and I’ll find my mark.”

The main event ended with fireworks blasting in the skies. Vivian and Bruce were already at the bar by the time Luthor got down the stage, the former having her glass of chardonnay and the latter drinking his ginger ale. But whenever they ordered, Bruce would ask for the same drink as Vivian, and as Vivian takes the glass she does a little trick that transforms the chardonnay to ginger ale. 

“Don’t even think about making that joke in front of all these people,” Bruce told her as he saw the smirk on her face.

“What? That I performed a reverse miracle?” Vivian snickered.

Bruce chuckled but hid his smile behind the glass. “Funny.”

“This is taking too long,” said Vivian. “I’m going to speed things up.”

“How?”

“Sorry about the dress, but I promise I’ll fix it later,” Vivian timed it perfectly and did a little trick to have the walking server lose their balance a little and lose their hold on the tray of red wine, spilling all over her. Vivian let out a gasp of shock while Bruce jumped a little with the surprise.

“I am so sorry, Ma’am!” 

“It’s fine,” Vivian reassured them. 

“Please, let me take your coat — we’ll have it cleaned.”

“Vivian, are you alright?” Bruce asked her.

“I’m fine, Bruce, really. These things happen… too bad about the dress, though.”

“What’s going on here?” Luthor came to their little crowd. “What did you do?”

“Lex, please, it was just a mistake,” Vivian told him, hoping it would ease the heat on her victim. “These things happen.”

“We’ll take care of the bill with cleaning your dress, Mrs. Wayne,” said the manager of the server who arrived with Lex.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Vivian. “Please. I think I just need to clean up a bit.”

“Luckily for you, my penthouse is just at the top,” Luthor offered his arm to Vivian. “I’m sure Mercy can find something for you to change in, Viv.” When his secretary didn’t reply, he pressed on, “Right, Mercy?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll be sure to find Mrs. Wayne something that would suit for the evening,” said Mercy.

“Bruce, please excuse us. I’ll be sure to return your lovely wife before curfew,” said Luthor.

Bruce frowned but said, “Thank you. Viv, I’ll wait for you down here.”

Vivian nodded and accepted Luthor’s arm and followed him to the elevator which went straight to his private quarters. It was a long ride, and she was thankful for the glass walls that gave them a view of Metropolis.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Luthor began.

“It is,” said Vivian.

“But I’m sure Gotham is still your home.”

Vivian chuckled. “Well, I do live there, Lex.”

“Tell me, how did Bruce react when you wore that necklace?” 

They have arrived at his floor. The elevator doors opened and Vivian stepped out right after him. His personal floor at the top of his business. If Lex’s excuse is because he’s a workaholic, then that’s just a lie. Bruce was a workaholic but he doesn’t have a penthouse atop of Wayne Enterprise —

Wait. The Batcave was right under Wayne Manor. Their home.

But that’s a  secret place, no one knows about the cave but them and the Justice League.

“I had to convince him that it’s only right that I wore this tonight. I mean, this is your event after all,” Vivian said.

Luthor chuckled. “I don’t blame him. Even I would prefer if you only wore my gifts.”

Vivian turned to him with a knowing smile. “Is that right, Lex?”

“Yes. I’m sure Wayne is fuming right now, especially with you up here with me.”

“Flattery.”

“Well, you are a beautiful woman, Professor Pryor. Intelligent too.”

Vivian hummed in response. 

“I would give you all the jewelry there is just so you don’t wear cheap old things,” he nodded at Vivian’s brooch. Jason’s locket. 

Vivian frowned. “This was a gift from one of my sons for Mother’s Day. It was the first gift I got, and it was the first time I celebrated. It’s far more valuable than any jewel there is.”

She heard Bruce chuckle at Luthor’s mistake, then he said through their comms, “Easy, Viv. Not too hot, you want to get him comfortable to get the stone.”

“Right, Jason,” Luthor muttered.

Vivian took a breath. “Speaking of brooches,” she nodded at the one on his lapel. “If I’m correct, that's the Alchemyst’s Stone. The real one, I presume.”

“Of course,” Luthor said, slightly offended. “You know?”

“Yes. I’ve read about it. History believes it was Nicolas Flamel who made the Philosopher’s Stone – the stone that performs transmutations. Transforming rock to gold – that kind of thing. Some claim it’s imbued with magic from Flamel’s wife, Perenelle Flamel. She was presumed to be a witch, you know.”

“I’ve read that as well. So, who was it that made the Stone?”

“Perenelle. Using her magic, she made the stone, imbued it with her magic and kept them alive for centuries. Until it was stolen from them. It was found in the Vatican at some point. By then, it was believed to have been violated by dark magic,” Vivian leaned on the table to get a closer look on the Stone, not realizing she was showing a bit too much of her chest. Which Lex noticed. “If you look closer you can see the markings on the gold frame which was used to alter the use of the Stone to something beyond simple transmutation. There, those runes,” she pointed at the mark on the gold frame.

“Impressive as always, Vivian,” said Lex. “I was waiting for after the event to call you here to discuss an opportunity, but after that little lecture, I can’t just let you go without giving you a spiel of what’s really happening in LexCorp.”

“And that is?” Vivian asked. She had a guess it was the case Bruce mentioned to her earlier.

“Alexandria. In one of my travels,” really it was his dealings with the right people, “I have found a scroll that holds a secret to a different kind of energy. One that can remove all of these fossils. One powerful enough to light cities.”

And weapons.

“It’s written in another language that’s why I’ve set up a team to start researching the language but they came across some bumps on the road. There are symbols there that do not follow the language’s way of writing. The researchers have been using your books to help them read through them but there is just so much that second hand knowledge could do. That’s why I want to offer you a position at LexCorp as the Head of the Archivist Division. You will be leading a team to decode the scrolls and be part of something big.”

“Lex, your pitch sounds great but I can’t just… Wayne Enterprise is a direct competitor of LexCorp, you do know that, right?”

“You don’t work for Wayne.”

“I don’t. I’m married to him. I can’t just do that —”

Luthor scoffed. “Please.”

“Lex. No, I’m not going to do that to Bruce.”

“But you want this project, right? The curiosity to know what’s in those scrolls is eating you alive. Isn’t it. Wayne wouldn’t understand,” Luthor crept closer to her  until Vivian was trapped behind the table. “He’s not a researcher, he’s not a scientist. He’s just someone who has a Trust Fund.”

Vivian glared at him. 

“Kidding! Wow, you are a tough nut to crack, Vivian Pryor,” Luthor then removed his brooch. He looked at it for a moment and then held it to her.

“What is this? A bribe?” Vivian sneered.

“No. Take it. See it as a signing bonus.”

“I’m not signing anything, Luthor.”

“Fine. But take it for now, and if you don’t want to work with me then give it back.”

Vivian looked at the stone and saw the pulsing red within. “So, you want me to have this?”

“Yes. I bought this at an auction just to piss off someone who got in my way.”

Vivian felt the pulse of dark magic from the Stone.

Lex continued. “Besides, I’ve read about you, Viv. Your family. Took a long time digging, but did you know you came from a long, long, long line of witches?”

Vivian’s blood ran cold. “All women who were different then are branded as witches,” she told him.

“I would like to think that this would be more of use for you than it is with me.”

“Is that right? Because of my blood?”

“I’m almost to his floor,” Bruce spoke through their comms.

“Who knows, it might bring out the little bit of magic that resides in you. So, you may have it as a reminder of the proposal. It is yours,” Luthor shrugged.

The transfer was complete. Vivian could now feel the Stone. Accepting the token, Vivian thanked Lex and said she’ll think about it and –

He leaned down swiftly and placed a kiss on her lips —

“AAHHH!” Luthor fell crumbling to the ground, clutching his balls as he went to a fetal position. “You just – did you just tase my –”

The elevators opened and Bruce walked in. “What happened?” He asked her.

Vivian walked to the cabinet and opened a bottle of scotch. “He kissed me,” she answered as she didn’t bother to pour into a glass and gulped from the bottle itself to rinse her mouth and spit it out at the sink, then drank another gulp.

“He did what?!” Bruce marched up to Luthor and grabbed him by his collar. Luthor tried to reason with him, he lied that it was her who kissed him, that she came onto him, but it only fueled his anger more and Bruce punched the man across the face. Twice.

Walking to her husband’s side, Vivian caught his fist before he could land a third punch. “That’s enough, Bruce,” she whispered. “Mr. Luthor will be reminded about this. Please.”

The elevator came back again, this time it was Mercy and a couple of security guards. “Mr. Wayne!” Mercy gasped at the sight of Bruce’s fists and a bloody nose of Lex who was on the ground. 

“Your boss got a little touchy,” Vivian spoke. “Luckily my husband had a feeling to follow us up here. We’ll taking our leave and won’t be telling anyone, we wouldn’t want to ruin Mr. Luthor’s night.”

A threat.

Mercy nodded and moved to the side. “A gift from Mr. Luthor, Professor Pryor.”

“No need, he’s already given me one. And the answer is no, Lex. Not ever,” Vivian led her husband to the elevator, passing security on their way. Once the doors closed, Vivian took his hands and cleaned the blood off them with a napkin from her purse.

“Did you get it?” Bruce asked.

“I did,” Vivian answered. “You got blood on your shirt,” she clicked her tongue, but nothing too hard for her to fix. One brush of her thumb and it was gone. “There, good as new… Bruce.”

“He touched you.”

“And you’ve shown him what happens when he does. My love, please,” Vivian had her hand on his nape and pulled him down for a kiss. “Better?”

“I still want to kick him off the building and tie his ankle to his bed.”

She kissed him again and this time it was long enough to stop the fueling rage. The elevator doors opened and they were at the event hall once again. Vivian asked for her coat from one of the staff but before she could get it, Bruce placed his blazer over her and carried her coat in his arm. Exiting the building, the Waynes met with Alfred at the front who saw the mood on Bruce’s face and sighed. He had a feeling something happened in this little operation. 

They went straight to the harbor where Alfred drove the car into the yacht and then the yacht to the waters, but they did not go straight to the path back to Gotham. While waiting for Superman, Bruce and Vivian changed out of their gala attire and to the Bat uniform and the red cloak, respectively. When Clark appeared, they bid goodbye to Alfred and mentioned where they were headed.

“I heard the commotion all the way from home, when I heard the jet I came straight here. You got the Stone?” asked Superman.

Vivian showed the red Stone that shone in her hands. 

“I heard what happened with Luthor too. How are you?”

“I tased his balls,” Vivian shrugged.

“Oh. So, you’re good then.”

“Disgusted but satisfied… I never tased someone before. I did stab someone but never tased them.”

“Good to know you're alright, Viv,” He smiled at her, relieved. Turning to Batman, he told the man that the latest place Le Fey attacked was at Glastonbury and she has not moved from there since.

“I'll hold her down in that place,” Vivian summoned the seals and the image of Morgan le Fey who has yet to do something in Glastonbury.

“So, do I carry you both there?” Superman asked.

Batman gave him an incredulous look. “Viv.”

“On it,” Vivian summoned a portal. “Bulletproof Kryptonians first,” she said.

“Of course,” Superman sighed.

Stepping in, Superman disappeared from the yacht then Vivian and Bruce followed suit and were met by the chilly early morning of Glasbury. Looking at her Wayne Tech phone that Bruce customized to be secured, connected to his personal satellite, and has a button to call Batman immediately, Vivian saw it adjust immediately to five hours ahead as it detected the new timezone. It was three in the morning now. The witching hour.

“The Phoenix is here,” Morgan le Fey's voice echoed in the night. “Vivian Pryor.”

Before she stepped out to find the sorceress, Vivian summoned circle around the three of them. Finishing the incantation, the circle burned on the ground with ambers continuously glowing. “Do not step out of this circle unless it is completely necessary,” she told them. Then she got out. “Into the light, I command thee.”

The Phoenix's power took form with her, transforming her appearance to don its sacred robes while still wearing her maroon coat but this time the coat glowed with flames, as well as the runes that were engraved in its lining. Her eyes turned to gold and magical essence exhumed from where she stood. 

“New tricks, Pryor?” Morgana appeared before her wearing her gold mask and robes. “Last I saw you, you were just an amateur witch trying to understand the Phoenix's power.”

“Last time I saw you, you were making out with my boyfriend,” Vivian shrugged. “And I burned your hair for it.”

“How is John?” 

“He's John, he survives. So, you've been causing a bit of trouble,” Vivian conjured two seats and a small table with a bottle of wine from their collection. “So much trouble that the JLA was forced to outsource.” She gestured to the seat. When the sorceress did ont move, Vivian added, “Either we sit down and chat like two grown women or I just do the same thing I did to you before.”

Morgan le Fey sat on the seat and took the glass of wine. “Turning on your own now, Pryor?”

“No. They know how I operate,” Vivian took a sip of wine. “I'll just be fixing whatever this is and then once I'm done, I'll give you a thirty-minute headstart before the big-S comes flying after you.”

Morgan le Fey chuckled. “Is that so? You will fix my problem and let me go?”

“If I give you up to the Justice League, every sorcerer, witch, mage, warlock, vampire, and magical and divine and damned being will go after me. The JLA understands my conditions and they will abide by it.”

“Then why is Superman and Batman here?” Morgan le Fey nodded at the two men far from where they were.

“Come on, Morg,” Vivian poured her another. “You know thirty-minutes is more than enough for you to head off your merry way. Superman is just here to even out the playing field.

“Like he can keep up.”

“You'll be surprised.”

“And Batman?”

“He's just nosy.”

She heard Bruce's disgruntled hum in their comms.

“Continuing the talks, Vivian said, “Soul sucking for immortality. You're not a demon, Morgana.”

“Aren't I?” Morgan le Fay cocked her head to the side.

“Well, I hope you're not. I mean, you're no Enchantress — she, I expect the soul succing. She is a succubus afterall, but you… what did Mordred do? I need to know so I can get you back your immortality and so you can stop all this.”

“My son has grown impatient. If there is a monster you seek, it is him not me… he has taken my power to take Camelot.”

“Camelot is gone.”

“He plans to take its place and build a new one, and rule the kingdom from there.”

“Caerleon then,” Vivian said. “Why does he need you out of the way?” Morgan le Fey raised her hand and showed to her the amount of magic left. “He has taken your magic and immortality.”

“He made a deal with those below. A tool that would grant him the power he needs to create his new world. His New Camelot.”

“Dealing with demons comes with a price… he knows better. There's always a catch.”

“But like you said, my child has grown impatient for his birthright.”

“One that's supposed to be expired by now considering Camelot was way back in the 6th century,” Vivian sighed. “Alright, I got what I need — and they got what they need,” she got up and stretched. “Batman, have Wonder Woman and Zatanna see Caerleon, they'll find Mordred there.”

“No!” Morgan le Fey got up. She was about to cast her magic to stop Batman but nothing. She was not able to do anything at all. “What did you do?”

“Binding spell. The wine,” Vivian nodded at Morgana's glass. 

Le Fey threw the glass to the ground after seeing the micro-carvings on the neck.

“Mordred will be dealt with accordingly. Don't worry, they'll return him to his mother… I can't say unharmed but he'll be back in your arms again. But the Justice League needs to deal with him first, and I need to finish my work.” 

Reaching into her coat, Vivian pulled out the demon-blood infused Stone and the Book of Arcana. “I keep my promises, Morgana. You’ll get your immortality back.” She let the book float beside her and open at the page she needed. “This can go two ways. I release this and you fly to your son with little power you have and die before you get there with your speeding age or we stay here, I return your immortality and the JLA stops him and brings him here. The clock is ticking, Morgana, with the amount of souls you’ve been taking, I say everyday your mortality is catching up on you. Even now I can see it.”

Morgan le Fey fell silent as she pondered.

“You can learn magic again but you can't do that when you're being used as petrol for my car.”

Morgan le Fey glared at her. Removing her mask, the sorceress finally revealed her aging face. With the robes she wore, Vivian couldn't see the fast deterioration but now she knew this was urgent. Any moment now the sorceress can literally turn to ash before her.

“Good,” Vivian helped the sorceress to sit and be comfortable on the leather chair. “Superman will come back with your son.”

Clark took that as a sign to leave and fly to Caerleon where Diana and Zatanna would be waiting. 

Vivian then held the Stone before Morgana and began the spell. Using her own glass, Vivian poured the demon's blood into the wine inside, with her hand holding the Stone she is powering with her magic, she cast the incantation, “Htiw siht puc, I nruter ot ym s'rotsac ega, I peek htaed ta yab.”

Flames danced in the wine's red color and died instantly.

“Drink and you won't turn to ash,” Vivian said and helped the old sorceress to take the glass. Drinking slowly until her body began to revert back to her old and youthful self. No longer was Morgan le Fay and crone, she was now back to her youthful self, just around Vivian's age now.

Finished with the incantation and the wine gone, Vivian conjured a mirror and showed the woman her face again. 

“You couldn't have made me younger?” said Morgana.

Vivian smirked. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” Snapping her fingers, the chairs, the table, the wine and glasses were gone. 

“Why help me, Pryor?” Morgana asked.

“I told you, the JLA asked me to intervene, and this is me intervening.”

“You could have killed me. That would be easier. Just like what you did with Mammon.”

“I erased him from existence. I kill him he’ll just come back up here.”

“Same question.”

“Survival has always been our way… who am I to judge a witch who has done so much to survive this world and give a life to her son. Despite the wrong things you have done and the obsession on taking back a kingdom that is far gone now, this has always been how we survived. We take.”

“Maybe back then, but this time you give.”

Vivian smiled. “Blame my husband, he has a way of rubbing off on people…”

“Bruce Wayne. Does he know?”

“Yes. He does.”

“And he does not mind?”

“No. And I want to do the same thing he does with the amount of power and wealth I have. He has Gotham as his project, maybe I can start here.”

Morgana scoffed. “A fool's dream. Dark magic is done with sinister deeds, Vivian. It cannot be stopped.”

“I know. Like you said, a fool's dream. But maybe with this you won't do something that would bother this realm for a while? Maybe spend the time to recover and ger your magic again?”

Morgana looked at her for a moment. “Fine. But that does not stop me from taking back our kingdom.”

“A century of peace is more than enough. Oh, look, your son's here.”

Floating down, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Zatanna came to where they stood and where Batman met them with Mordred beaten. The man still wore his dark armor and had a few injuries that needed mending.

“Your first project,” Vivian told Morgana. “Your son needs you.”

Morgan le Fey sighed and approached Mordred. She took him from Wonder Woman's hold and said, “We had a deal.”

Wonder Woman glared at her and released Mordred, letting Morgana take him. The Sorceress held her son in her arms and took one last look at Vivian's way before disappearing using the little magic she had left.

“Where did she go?” Wonder Woman asked Vivian.

“Diana,” Batman warned her. “She's abided with the terms, Morgan le Fey won't harm anyone while she regains her magic and helps her son. Peacetalks were established.”

“She will come back.”

“And when she does I'll deal with it. Then it will be on equal grounds,” Vivian said. “Let her recover and let her save her son. Besides, the JLA has something more important to deal with involving Luthor now anyway. I'll leave you to talk about it, right now I’m going home.”

“Back to the darkness, I command thee.”

The Phoenix form disappeared and Vivian was back to her normal appearance and was strolling towards the lamp post. “I'll stop by at my Father's before heading home! See you then, love!”

“Vivian,” Batman caught her arm before she teleported away.

“What?” 

“You did good.”

Smiling, Vivian got on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Alfred said that I have my own code. And I do, but there are times when I also want to help out people in need.”

“Is that so?”

“My husband has a way of influencing people around him.”

Batman smiled softly.

“But I can't say with those vampires that we encountered, and the ones you saw in the club.”

“You can't kill what's already dead.”

Vivian had a lopsided grin, “I'll see you at home. Try to ease Wonder Woman to not hating me for letting Morgana go.”

“I will. See you at home, love.”

Stepping back, Vivian waved goodbye and teleported away and appeared at her father's gym where he was currently sleeping for some reason.

“Come on, Dad,” Vivian woke him.

“Vee, what are you doin’ here, love?” Adam woke up, still groggy.

“I had a consultation in the area and I wanted to see you. Let's get you home, okay?”

Adam nodded and followed his daughter to the portal she opened and helps him lay down in bed. 

~*~

Back in Gotham, Vivian was having a nice cup of tea at the garden with Damian when Bruce appeared with a surprise.

“What is this?” Vivian asked as she held up the black card with the Justice League logo at the middle. Flipping it over, she was met by an ID and Watchtower security access. It had the name The Phoenix over what she calls a mug-shot but with her face. Her base of operation, which is Gotham, with Universal access. And power level which is ranked Unknown. Then at the bottom was the word Consultant.

“No more going through the whole security system of the Watchtower,” said Bruce. “Also, did  you do something with your photos? Flash said that they were seeing different people whenever they developed the card.”

Vivian smirked. “I don't do masks, but the runes of my coat has a glamor that hides my identity. If anyone takes a photo of me or sees me, they won't know it's me unless I let you know it's me.”

A chuckle left Bruce's lips, “And when were you going to tell me that?”

“I thought you figured it out by now,” Vivian returned to her reading. “So do I get to add that in my CV? Consultant for the Justice League, my references are Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman.”

“I'll give a good recommendation. But I'll put up a good fight to keep you from getting poached by other organizations.”

“Like the Titans?”

“What do you mean?” Bruce turned to Damian in question.

“Dick reached out to me to ask for help with Raven. He said if I was consulting for the Justice League, I should also consult for the Titans. I believe you remember her? Daughter of Trigon.”

“It was my idea,” said Damian. “Grayson should put his story straight.”

“I know and I'm proud that you're looking out for your teammates.”

“So, the Titans have poached you already.”

“Just for a consultation. You know, I should start putting fees.”

“No.”

“Kidding!”

[lily-radiance]

Random fic headcanons and ideas:

TWD season two Daryl Dixon with an S/O who's in trouble

Both loners

MC is not from Georgia

Early 20s MC dating mid-30s Daryl

She knows how to shoot archery bows but not crossbows

Touch-starved

Andrea considers MC like another younger sibling

Everyone advises Daryl not to go for you and vice versa

When Rick, Hershel, and Glenn go to the bar, MC accompanies them. Daryl only goes when Lori tells him that you are in danger.

Carol gives him advice

Andrea and Lori warn him if he breaks your heart, he's a dead man.

RE4 Leon with a high school best friend who became an Umbrella Scientist.

MC was initially training for the force with Leon but dropped out to find another passion

She wants to help people but gets pulled into Umbrella’s dark research

Leon caught a glimpse of her at the end of RE2 but couldn't be sure if it was her.

Ashley doesn't trust MC, but Leon ignores it

Both have combat experience and have undergone physical conditioning

MC does not have Las Plagas

Krauser spars with MC, causing Leon to jump in.

Krauser asks Leon to choose between you and Ashley.

IDK if Leon would be sweet here or a Yandere.

Arkham Movie Trilogy Jonathan Crane, Harley Quinn, and Poison Ivy x Psychiatrist reader

This story is currently in progress!!!

Reader works at Arkham Asylum

Friends with Bruce Wayne

Knows about his alter ego and occasionally helps him solve cases

Reader believes Bruce should do more with his money to benefit Gotham

Combines Heath Ledger’s Joker with Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn

The reader was in the same major as Harley in college, and the two dated briefly

Harley constantly teases the reader when she catches wind of a new crush

You try to ignore her, but eventually can't as she warns you that the doctor is deadlier than he lets on

You brush it off, too fond of your coworker to accept the notion that he can hurt you

Bruce doesn't like your new counterpart, picking up a destructive energy that screams guilty

In defiance, you decide to bring your beaux to one of many parties and get on your friend’s last nerve.

A kiss is shared in front of the crowd, some murmuring complaints while others smile. You wish to stay in Jonathan’s arms, but the moment is interrupted as Bruce pulls you aside

Naturally, two upper-class socialites fighting in front of an audience calls for bad publicity, but not on your part

“If you keep this up, you'll become a sewer rat criminal just like the rest!”

Luckily, you decided to wear a few rings to accentuate your outfit. Not only do you look stunning, but you reel back and land a brutal slap on his cheek. Yet that doesn't hurt as much as your following words.

“How dare you, Bruce. How dare you scrutinize what you can never understand. Thomas and Martha would be ashamed of you, and you, of all people, know they were difficult to rattle. Next time you need anything, ask someone who gives a shit.”

Your friend has to watch in shock as you exit the home, arm linked with a man he despises. Even in disagreeable situations, you manage to exhibit grace and elegance. It's the beginning of a new era and the opportunity to forget the complex life of the wealthy.

“Is your hand alright, (Y/N)? Better yet, are you okay?”

Never underestimate a psychiatrist to get into your head. He walks you to the car, watching your lips tremble in the darkness. You meet his stare, and one thought crosses your mind: kissing him sounds lovely. The doctor is efficient at picking up social cues, leaning down to meet your lips, and extinguishing the frigid temperature.

“As long as I'm with you, Jonathan. I can do anything with you by my side, no matter the risks.”

I want to make the reader an anti-hero vigilante with the “Grim Reaper” theme. Supernatural powers in Batman don't really occur so I will brainstorm. Most villains are the work of genetic experiments gone wrong so maybe I'll work with that?

JD(Heathers 1989) dating the reader

You are friends with Veronica and the despicable Heathers

Instead of going along with their charades, you often argue and challenge Heather Chandler

She constantly threatens your social standing but knows that the campus would easily choose you over her.

Purple color coded

JD can't help but admire your tenacity as you begrudgingly follow Veronica to the table, attempting to stop the girl from doing Heather’s bidding.

When you walk over, he seems uninterested in the girl speaking to him, instead transfixed on your disinterested attitude. Unknowingly, you lick your lips, tasting lip gloss and wiping some glitter away. When you lock eyes, you swear your heart stops beating, drawn to his carefree attitude.

Veronica says a few words to you, trying to convince you to let her administer the lunch poll

As she talks, you playfully roll your eyes, causing the delinquent to smirk in your direction. He hides a chuckle from breaking out, finding your careless joking funny given the circumstances. When Veronica walks off, it allows you to sit across from the newcomer, albeit a little too eagerly.

“Mind if I ask for a smoke? I'm dying from boredom.”

“Sure, I could never say no to a girl like you. I’m guessing you’ve been trying to break from those devils all day.”

He lights your cigarette as you take it between your teeth, enjoying the visual more than he lets on.

“It's all thanks to you, my knight in obsidian armor.”

[zahri-melitor]

Is Zdarksy’s Batman run actually bad, or is it just messy?

I actually like Zdarsky's current Batman run and don't think 'bad' or 'messy' are actually the right words to characterise it at all.

There's a tendency when a writer gets handed one of the Big Name Titles (Batman, Detective Comics, Superman, Action Comics, Tom King's currently attempting it over in Wonder Woman) to want to produce a Genre Defining, Intellectual Run on the the title. I don't entirely blame it on Jeph Loeb and Hush, but it's undoubtedly become a lot more common since Hush sold approximately one squillion copies and has never been out of print since 2003.

Writers want to make their mark on the title and so they get caught up in interrogating Bruce's psyche rather than focusing on writing entertaining stories based in Gotham characters.

(This is also why I suggest if you want a fun Scott Snyder Batman run you read Gates of Gotham or All Star Batman rather than his Batman run, because he's trying less hard to write his Great Batman Graphic Novels and more focused on telling a good story).

At the moment we have both Chip Zdarsky and Ram V focused on writing Great Defining Batman Runs, rather than what is more common to happen, which is one of the writers on Tec or Batman is trying this and the other is focused on writing entertaining Gotham stories. Ram V's is, from all accounts, probably the one of the two that is going to end up entering The Canon.

However I certainly see more people talking about Zdarsky's run, probably because it's the more accessible of the two to pick up casually for for a run.

What ALSO doesn't help is that Ram V. is currently writing a Barbatos-based run and Zdarsky is writing a Zur-En-Arrh-based run (extremely generalised), as they're two overlapping Basic Batman Plots about forces controlling Bruce.

Why I think people are currently complaining about Zdarsky's run:-

It's based around an interrogation of Zur-En-Arrh Batman. ZEA is probably one of the least liked 'Bruce has crossed the line and is trying to be All Batman, All the Time' plots around here, because it revolves around a concept essentially invented by Grant Morrison, and people on tumblr don't like Grant Morrison's Batman.

Zdarsky is writing about Joker. People on tumblr don't like Joker and think he's overused.

Zdarsky's run has leaned quite heavily into multiversal concepts so far, but what he's looking at is different depictions of Batman The Character across different media adaptions, particularly older adaptions, and what they have to say about the central truth of Batman The Character. He's picking blokey and reddit-popular sort of titles to reference, not tumblr-popular ones.

The primary character in the run is Bruce. The secondary character in the run is Tim. Every other Bat character who passes through the run is brought in to serve a purpose to the narrative, using an aspect of their personality, and if you're a fan of another character, the fact that they're appearing as a side character or an obstacle in the story can be annoying, as the story isn't focused on the thing you cherish most about your blorbo.

I think everyone is busy blaming every aspect of the plot of Gotham War they don't like on Zdarsky, despite the fact it was written by a trio: I don't see Tini Howard or Matthew Rosenberg catching nearly as much flack for Gotham War, even as aspects of the event were pretty clearly steered by them (The Selina parts of the plot were obviously Howard. The Jason parts of the plot including the conditioning look pretty clearly to be a Rosenberg requested part of the story, given he had been consistently writing most of the published Jason content for the last 3 years).

Really, I think at its base it's that Zdarsky is digging into an aspect of the Batman mythos that tumblr doesn't particularly like, and that Zdarsky's main focus in terms of characters are Bruce and Tim. It's fashionable to complain that Tim's getting love and support by a writer for a whole lot of fanon rather than canon related reasons, PLUS Zdarsky is using the wider Gotham cast sparingly and only when he specifically wants them to work within the narrative he's telling.

Plus, it's pretty clear to my eye that Zdarsky's favourite Batman eras are about 1995-2009, and that's shaping some of his choices of characterisation using long term aspects of characters. He's a Brubaker-Rucka and a Morrison-Nicieza fan, people. He likes O'Neil era events and Batfamily writing from Gotham Knights and Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive.

[folliesandfolderols]

Recently returned to England from an extended Grand Tour, the Honorable Timothy Drake is immediately called to Stephanie Brown’s aid. To help his childhood companion, the alpha must once again don the disguise he left behind on his travels and play highwayman to recover a family heirloom. However, omega Lord Damian Wayne, the intended victim of Tim’s robbery scheme, is hardly one to simply allow his belongings to be ransacked by a common criminal. From the moment they meet, sparks fly between the two. And soon, their worlds become even more entangled, for the Duke of Gotham has invited Tim to court his youngest son. Now Tim must please a notoriously difficult omega while still working to secretly reclaim Stephanie’s property. As Tim finds himself ever more intrigued, he knows that at some point his deception must be revealed. If only he could find the right way to bare his heart to Lord Damian...

Pairing: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne Rating: Teen Words: 27,566

This is my fourth and final fic for TimDami Week 2024! Written for the December 2 prompts "Omegaverse | Identity Porn."

Excerpt under the cut.

The Honorable Timothy Drake checked once more to be certain his mask covered his face and adjusted his grip on his pistol. This wasn’t the first time he’d played highwayman, though it would be the last if all went well tonight. It was the first occasion upon which he’d engaged in such nocturnal pursuits within a day’s ride of London. He’d be damned if his mother caught wind of it at this late date.

Not that the Earl of Bellingham had cared to know what her son and heir did while out of her sight until fairly recently. Raising children was omegas’ work. As long as Tim showed up when summoned and made the appropriate noises until he could escape, Jack Drake considered himself an exemplary parent, and Tim did nothing to disabuse him of the notion, so Janet Drake had been satisfied. However, Tim was lately returned from an extensive voyage, and both his parents were paying closer attention than usual.

His gelding, Redbird, shifted restlessly beneath him and whickered. Tim ran a soothing hand down the proud curve of his chestnut neck. His tack, padded and painted black, made no sound and reflected no light in the full moon. Another risk he’d chosen to take tonight: Redbird could be recognized by someone familiar with his mother’s stable. His blaze was currently covered with a harmless temporary dye Tim had concocted himself to match the rest of his coat, as were his two stockings, but his lines were memorable to anyone with an eye for horseflesh. Fortunately the Bellingham stables were significantly more depleted than they’d been a decade before, and attracted far less interest from outsiders.

Redbird danced to the side a few steps, letting Tim know his impatience with all the standing. He always grew more recalcitrant when Tim approached his ruts, as if the predator within his body signaled the horse to avoid becoming prey. He’d kept his mount fresh and now must pay the price while awaiting his target.

In the distance, a thunderous rumble heralded the well-sprung carriage of the Duke of Gotham, currently making the long journey to Town from his sprawling Yorkshire country estate. Despite the duke’s reputation for dissipation, His Grace would never have traveled on a Sunday. No, this would be his son, Lord Damian Wayne, flouting his reputation as half a foreigner and a whole heathen. Tim preferred circumspection, himself, but he understood the desire to thumb one’s nose at gossip by embracing the accusations. Traveling at night, however, was a particularly foolhardy course of action, as Lord Damian was about to find out.

The heavy cloud cover thinned just enough for Tim to catch a glimpse of Miss Stephanie Brown’s pale skin on the opposite side of the road, mostly hidden under the dark plain clothes they’d both donned for tonight’s exercise in idiocy. She rode a mare so black she nearly appeared purple in the shadows overlaying her coat. Ricochet technically belonged to Bellingham, but Stephanie’s mother managed the country estate’s home farm, and Stephanie herself had as good as raised the animal.

Steph gave Tim a nod of acknowledgement and lifted her pistol, reins gathered in her free hand.

The coach rounded the bend, black with gold appointments muted in the darkness of the night. Tim tapped his spurs to Redbird’s sides. Delighted to finally be given permission to move, the gelding practically leapt to the center of the road and spun in a pirouette just to show off. Stephanie drew abreast of him. Together, they leveled their pistols at the rapidly approaching team of horses and yelled, “Stand and deliver!”

The coach didn’t even slow.

“Tim, what shall we do should they refuse to stop?” Stephanie asked.

“Never worry.” Tim took aim and fired. The coachman’s hat went flying off his head into the night. His horses, a beautifully matched set of pure blacks, did their best to shy and rear at the noise, though their harness largely forbade it. Tim succeeded in his goal; they drew to a halt just before they would have run over their would-be robbers.

The coachman shook his head and called, “You’re mad, th’ both of you! Nowt but pain if you open th’ door. On tha’ own head be it.” The footman sitting next to him grinned without stirring a muscle.

Well, that was a first, as was the lack of armed guards. Tim didn’t dare look at his companion, but he did tuck his spent pistol away and bring out his sword before cantering forward to reach for the coach door.

Before he could open the latch, the door flew wide. He jerked back just in time to avoid being struck in the face, and Redbird stepped back too in startlement, thus saving him from the blade protruding from the inside of the carriage. A wave of frankincense scent poured from the coach, a common masking technique of high-society omegas.

“How pathetic,” purred a silky voice from the dark interior. Polished steel pointed straight at Tim’s nose, growing closer as the person holding the weapon slowly leaned out the door. “Though I must express my gratitude. This trip’s proven deadly dull. Killing you will enliven it considerably.”

Lord Damian disembarked from his carriage with a careless hop and advanced, blade at the ready.

read the rest on ao3

[aerofae]

Batman - The Irregulars: Prologue, BCE (Before Current Earth) ||ROUGH DRAFT/CONCEPT||

TW: Consider this a light version of splatterpunk (and I do mean LIGHT... though this concept intro isn't bad at all). Violence, violence against Robins, death, implications of death, Joker Junior... Concept for a fic I've been brewing. Possibly a project I'll post??? Collecting intel on interest lol

Too old. Too independent. Too clever.

Bruce—or the being that was once known as Bruce—should have known better. Tim was the one he always knew would out grow and out smart them all. The one that would all have been working for one day--in another life time of course. Bruce thought he has learned his lesson from the first Tim he collected. Too just and stubborn to break from his training as Robin. Bruce disposed of him after just a month by slitting his throat and feeding his body to the Crows. Then it was back to the drawing board.

He needed the sharp mind, but with a broken spirit. A Tim willing to bend the rules of his training.

Admittedly, a harder task than Bruce had thought it would be. In the world of Robins, Tim was always the most loyal in his training. The one that always stuck to his word. He could break one on his own, and for a short while Bruce considered this option (as time consuming as it was). But through his scanning of the various else worlds he just so happened to stumble upon what—at the time—seemed to be the perfect, prepackaged soldier.

This Tim has a story similar to his own (call him sentimental). Once an ambitious hero of Gotham, but then plagued with the all too familiar curse of one bad day. He had been captures by the clowns. Tortured, manipulated, and molded into the perfect heir to the Clown Prince of Gotham. Where Bruce had gone wrong in this selection—he now knew—was that Tim knew he was and who he was supposed to be. As suppressed as the Joker tried to make his memories as a Bat, the boy always seemed to gravitate toward them. Once the first crack formed, Joker Junior and Tim Drake began an internal battle of mind, body, and morals. Cackling before Bruce now was the compromise. A perfect mixture of Robin ingrained righteousness and justice, mixed with the chaos induced by the Joker's torture and manipulation. A pity really. Had Bruce caught this sooner, he could have molded the boy further to his liking. But now...

“Dick, finish him.” Bruce commanded as he turned his back to the downed, traitorous solider. “And be sure that the crows eat.”

Howls of excitement rose from the goblin-like creatures at his feet. Bruce paid no mind to them. None to his eldest either, who silently stepped forward as he drew the Talon's blade from his side. Bruce did, however, take pause as he stepped beside his second eldest. Jason was pale, frozen in both fear and anguish. Just as the previous Jason and Tim had grown close, so had these two. The pity Bruce felt was not for Jason's impending loss, but rather for loss of the duo he could have had to complete his mission. Bruce's pale, gnarled hand reached out to lay atop Jason's shoulder in a feign act of compassion. “Don't worry, Jaybird. We'll find you a new brother.”

-----------

Meet the Irregulars

The Bat Who Laughs: A collector you'd dare to call sentimental. A former man in search of the family the Joker had destroyed through the Bat's own hands.

Dick: He had watched his parents fall to their deaths, but was whisked away by William Cobb before Batman could make his appearance on scene. Trained and branded to become the next Talon, he never had the outlet of Robin and sought revenge over justice. Don't ask him how long he's been with the BWL, just know that it's been too long and he's seen too much—done too much. He's lost track of time anyway. He assumes he's around the age of sixteen or seventeen (give or take).

Jason: Unlike Dick, Jason had his run at being the Boy Wonder. Sure he and his Batman butted heads, but no duo was perfect. Where Jason's path diverged from the well known tale of the hunt for his mother is that while he had still been kidnapped and tortured by the Joker, his Bruce did show up in time to save him—but not himself. The details are still fuzzy (suppressed probably), but when the smoke cleared from the wreckage he was horrified to see that Batman had taken his place. Then, from the pits of Hell itself, came the BWL who promised him vengeance against the Joker (but he never live up to his end). Age: Fourteen

BCE (Before Current Earth) Tim: The stubborn fanboy turned Robin whose brilliant mind met the sharp end of an ice pick (metaphorically speaking). Similar to Jason, Tim was kidnapped and tortured by the Joker. Rather than being killed, he was shaped and molded to become the Joker's successor. Plans have a way of going south though. Encountering his family on the streets brought back his memories. Fighting against them with the BWL drove him to try to break free, but no one leaves the family willingly. Age: Fourteen (too close to Jason as the BWL learned)

CE (Current Earth) Tim: The BWL's new Joker Junior. Younger, smaller, and freshly pulled from the acid bath that bleached his skin white and turned his hair green. His skin stills burns and his extended smile cracks from the constant itch and urge to scratch. His last memory from his own timeline is watching his own Bruce's body falling into the same vat he himself had been pushed into shortly before. His mind can't catch up to where he is and what he's doing, so he follows Jason aimlessly (or so it seems). Age: Eleven, going on twelve

Damian: The youngest, the innocent. This always confused Dick. The rest of them had been carefully picked to be soldiers in this strange war the BWL insisted on waging—but why leave Damian out of it? BCE Tim had theories, some outlandish, some Dick was more inclined to believe, but none solidified. More of an adorable pet than a son, Damian was pampered and his hands were clean. But his worries were for the rotating cast of his brothers he had seen throughout his short life. Dick and the BWL were his only constants. Age: Six

Bruce (the good one): Dick Grayson had died with his parents that night at the circus. The body of a young John Doe found in Crime Alley was identified as Jason Todd who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time during a turf war between the Penguin and Falcone. Tim Drake had pleaded with his parents to go with them overseas and was poisoned along side his mother, leaving Jack Drake to plummet into an irreversible depression. Damian Wayne—didn't exist. Yet he and Alfred found all four of these poor boys practically at their doorstep. He had never thought about being a father, but he would be damned if these boys suffered anymore than they've had.

Barbara: The one and only (to Bruce's distaste) sidekick to the Bat. Stubborn and bright, Barbara had refused to back down from his position as the unofficial Batgirl, even at the threat of Bruce telling her father. After thoroughly convincing Bruce that no matter what he said or did, she would sneak out again and again to fight at his side, Bruce caved and began to train her. If she was so insistent, she should at least know how to defend herself properly. Secretly, Bruce appreciates her company.

Alfred: … Alfred :)

[silvers-smuttery]

Commission: Bruce's Blondes

“I must say, Mister Wayne, this evening has been simply delightful”, Karen Starr complimented the gentleman sitting opposite of her in his limousine. The two had arranged a meeting to discuss a joint business venture of Starrware Industries and the Wayne Foundation. Needless to say negotiations went off without a hitch as both business partners shared the same goal behind it. The rest of the evening was mostly a pleasant dinner between Karen Starr and Bruce Wayne, filled with laughter and mild flirting, which eventually turned into quite overt flirting as the alcohol kept flowing. Or at least, that’s the excuse either of them would present, should the gentleman’s hand creeping down her back, or the lady’s leg rubbing against his be met with controversy. Not that it was.

“I’m certainly glad you enjoyed it. Just one moment, I’ll have Alfred drive you to your hotel”, Bruce took the compliment, holding his champagne out to clink their glasses together. Bruce knew Karen’s real identity, and she knew his. It was that spark of trust that has even led to this business venture to begin with. Seeing his teammate in the stunning, white shoulderless gown, her gaze smoldering as she looked at him with bedroom eyes, did get Bruce a little hot under his collar. Maybe the two could see just how hot things would get in her hote-

“Actually, I never booked one. I was hoping the great Bruce Wayne would be hospitable enough to let me stay the night~”, Power Girl smirked, sipping on her Champagne. She knew from the beginning how this date was going to go. No need to book a room when you know you only need one. And if things hadn’t worked out, she could have simply flown home, followed by an awkward day at the Watch Tower.

The proposition actually managed to startle Bruce. Seeing the stoic Batman’s alter ego choke and cough up his sparkling wine only served to broaden Power Girl’s scarlet red smile, drawing out a small fit of giggles. Though Bruce had an idea that it wasn’t meant as a joke. “My place? Uhm, sure, I’d love to”, The fact that Bruce was THIS startled however did peak the blonde’s curiosity, as well as raising her eyebrow as Bruce caught his composure. Was Bruce keeping secrets from the team again? This twist was certainly unexpected, though really only made the blonde that much more excited to go.

Finally stopping at the front entrance of the large mansion, Bruce was ever the gentleman, extending a hand to help his guest step out of his car. Arm in arm, the two kept advancing towards the door. “A word of warning. My new employee is a little… eccentric”, he explained plainly as he opened the door. Before Karen could even soak that information in, she was greeted by a high-pitched scream, followed by her face getting engulfed by something soft and squishy.

“Welcome home, Mister B. And here I was thinkin’ ya might stay the night out with that blonde bombshell!”

“No Harley, in fact, you are currently smothering that blonde bombshell”

“Oops, sorry. Miss Starr!”

Karen heard that right, didn’t she? That was Harley Quinn. And when her wide eyes were freed of what had to be Double-Ds of cleavage, her suspicions were confirmed. Before her stood Harley Quinn, not in her bodysuit, but in a ridiculously small and revealing Maid Uniform, apparently with nothing else beneath her black apron decorated with red frills. The blonde business woman��s mouth hung agape at the display, a small smile slowly creeping onto her face. Finally tearing herself away from the scandalous sight, Karen shot an excited side eye at Bruce. “That is quite the uniform you have for Miss Quinn, there Bruce”, Power Girl teased, trying hard to hold in her laughter.

“Ya got that wrong, Missy”, Harley interjected, pointing her finger right on her guest’s nose. “I made this one all by myself, so Mister B can have some eye candy while I work”, Harley almost moaned as she let her hands drift over her almost naked form. "Mister B was so kind in takin me in, and makin me his, I say he deserves it.” Harley twirled around, striking poses that barely left anything to their imagination. Her enormous butt was only covered in a tiny thong threatening to tear, while her front was only somewhat obscured by that uniform, barely able to contain her tits. “And I see you very much agree, Madame Starr!”, Harley chuckled. Before Bruce or Karen could intervene, Harley had already closed the distance between her and the other blonde, hands clammering at Power Girl’s big tits. “Gosh, these are firm. Are they really real?”

“Harley, please!”, Bruce interjected, hoping to get his maid to stop groping his guest, but it didn’t seem like she minded much. Power Girl only shot him a salacious look that told him. “You better make this fun, or I’m going to tell the League!”

“Yes, Miss Quinn. 100% real, as your boss is going to learn in a few minutes.”

Bruce was lost. It had become very apparent that he had lost control of this situation, and could only try to get it back. “How about we head up to bed then. Good night, Har-”

“Not so fast, ya blonde bimbo. Don’t think you can pull this on my watch!”, the blonde maid exclaimed, drawing attention back to her. “Don’t think I don’t know whatcha been doin’ all night. Flaunting your body all around to make Master B’s cock hard as a rock and give him balls as blue as a smurf!” Harley kept her hands clammering Karen’s tits, nails digging into her skin as much as they could given her Kryptinian physique. With her frustrations expressed, sorta, Harley moved down to her knees in front of her boss. Before they knew, Bruce’s pants were down at his ankles, his thick dick standing tall as Harley moved to cradle it. “In this house, this musky hunk of cock is my responsibility, ya better get back in line”, the blonde scowled, sticking her tongue out at Karen, before using it on that musky tip.

“Harley-”

“Oh, you don’t think this delicious gentleman is enough man to share? How greedy, Miss Quinn!”, Power Girl chuckled teasingly as she let her dress fall completely in front of Bruce, who took note of her distinct lack of underwear as she settled down right next to Harley. This situation was spiraling more and more out of control. As good as two twirling tongues from busty blondes felt around his burly dick, he had to take charge.

“ENOUGH!” Bruce’s yell echoed through the halls of Wayne Manor. Any moans and slurping sounds halted as the two women looked up in shock and surprise, at the stern growling voice the two had heard so often before. Albeit from different sides. “Bedroom! NOW!” Bruce didn’t wait for either of them to move on their own. He simply grabbed Power Girl and Harley’s blonde hair and dragged the two women along as he walked. Pained grunts were accompanied by hearty, growling moans as they followed his command, biting their lips while their soaked pussies left a trail behind them as they crawled on the floor..

Arriving at the master bedroom, Bruce practically threw the ladies onto the bed. Almost instinctively, the blonde ladies raised their asses at the patriarch of the house, huffing and panting out moans as they shook their cheeks and folds to entice him, drooling in excitement onto the soft sheets below. Their eyes met, giggling like school girls making a silent bet with each other, though their chuckles were cut short by a harsh smack against each of their cheeks, turning into shrill shrieks. “Go on, beg for it. What do you want?”, Bruce demanded them to speak, shoving two fingers into each of their soaking pussies and making them inhale sharply.

“Please, Master B. I am your maid- No! Your pet. I’m yours to use and dump your fat load into any of my holes and everywhere on my body. Slap me, beat me, dump all of your delicious spunk on me that this bitch tried to keep for herself!”, Harley panted like a dog, grinding her pussy on his fingers before biting down into the blanket she laid on.

“Yeah, let me be your loyal bitch dog. I need a big, strong, muscly stud to handle and breed me. You’re one of the few men who could handle me. I teased you all night so you could put a baby in your breeding bitch! I want my belly full and round with your baby batter for the rest of my life! *bark bark bark*!”, Power Girl continued with voicing their desires, eyes rolled up to the back of her head as she started fucking herself on his hand.

“Good girls”, Bruce praised them as he let his dick smack each of their asses, giving the illusion of making a choice when he had already decided which bitch to breed first. Karen’s tongue rolled out of her mouth when he pumped his cock into her waiting core in one go. The pressure inside the cunt from Krypton was almost overwhelming and it would have been for anybody who wasn’t the Batman. Bruce kept his composure while his hips rocked into the blonde’s wide womanly hips. Perfect to bear his seed when he was ready to unleash his load.

Harley couldn’t help but pout when he saw her Master breed the new skank first. “Well, ya got lucky you're the fancy new toy here”, the former jestress chuckled as she crawled over to her master’s new girl to suck up her lazy tongue and force hers into her gaping mouth, as Bruce grabbed Karen’s hips to pound her firm ass harder. It was her duty to support her Master and make sure he spread his seed as best as he could.

Bruce was focused on pounding Power Girl, so he was too preoccupied to pay attention to Harley crawling off the bed, until she turned up behind him. He had to take a pause when he felt Harley spread his ass cheeks, before her hot, wet tongue found its way to his rim. His balls churned and twitched when he felt her tongue his asshole. “I knew you were worth it Harley, good girl!”, Bruce praised his pig-tailed maid, which made her dig in deeper and more voraciously. Power Girl used the slight pause in the action to adjust her position, rolling over onto her back as she pulled Bruce in with all her body, arms and legs completely wrapped around the human stud and making him kiss her passionately.

With all the attention from two busty bombshell blondes, Bruce’s dam eventually broke. His balls exploded with a flood of cum pumped right into the Kryptonian’s baby chamber, which slurped up every little drip until it couldn’t possibly drink more.

“Oh, god..." Oh fuckk… I think I can feel my eggs getting fertilized. If you didn’t get me pregnant right now, nothing will, he”, Karen laughed, as much as exhaustion allowed her. Even she worked up a little sweat, though by far not as much as the stallion hunched over her, dripping the musky liquid over her. Once she noticed Harley at his backdoor, still lapping away, Power Girl whispered into his ear, “I think it’s time you gave her a treat too.”

Moments later, Harley was also on her back, back on the bed as Bruce thrust his dick into her waiting pussy. If anything, Power Girl's encouraging words made him rock her world even harder than he did hers, caressing his muscles as she watched her twintails bounce as the happy maid got pounded. "You want to see her get the same treatment?", Bruce asked the woman by his side.

"You know me so well. Not like we're going to give her a choice, but I don't think she'll mind", Karen Starr whispered in Bruce’s ear, her hands gently wandering down from his pecs to his abs, over his crotch towards Harley womb, caressing and pressing down on her baby chamber. She playfully bit his earlobe as she felt Bruce shoot another load into his maid, knocking her up too.

"You know there is no doubt our project will make me come to Gotham more often. What would you say if I just stayed? Y’know, so you can watch both of us progress~”, Power Girl offered herself to Gotham's Billionaire Playboy, sealing it with a deep kiss while Harley drooled her scrambled brain out of her mouth, basking in the warmth of her boss's seed flooding her ovaries.

[tegerton]

Dude, duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude! Does anyone even remember me? Sorry for the very long hiatus, but I’m dipping my toes back into fanfic writing. Hopefully I’m not too rusty. What better way to come back with trying out an original story, that’s right this bad boy is coming from my head.

You can all thank @justsomerandomfanfic for waking me up. Seriously, thank you so much for liking my writing. It means the world (I thought my writing was pretty bad not gonna lie haha) but I am so glad I can make someone’s day with it! Apologies in advance. Please let me know if I should add any specific warnings! Hearts, reblogs, and comments are lovely!

I am going to try and attempt a GN reader x Eggsy (please let me know if I need to fix anything)

Eggsy x GN Reader

Word Count: A little over 1k

Warnings: Implied fighting and not so great friends (it’s not too bad tho)

It was supposed to be just a chill night out with some friends at a rather less crowded bar. Yeah it was anything but that. Once the words “Manners, maketh, man.” were thrown into the mix and all bets were off the table. Various objects like tables, chairs, and umbrellas went flying as their eyes scanned to find various things.

1. Find a safe exit (The front doors had been barricaded shut, but there’s got to be an emergency exit somewhere in this dump).

2. Stick with the people you know.

3. Get out.

After a few close attempts the group decided to book it for an exit that was in the back of the little kitchen in the bar. The friends left in a hurry not giving their final remaining friend a clear plan.

“Thanks guys! Thanks for not TELLING ME THE PLAN!” The tone was in the midst of transitioning from rather annoyed to fearing for their life. But rather than hearing screams and carious grunts the room was eerily silent. It’s at this moment that they realized someone just saw their outburst. Turning to face the one man army they noticed the umbrella that had been previously used to take out at least half of the patrons in the bar who are currently laying on the ground. “Put the umbrella down.” The rather well dressed man slowly followed orders as he gently placed his Kingsman umbrella onto the floor. “Now, unlock the doors.” With some loud clicking the entrance was now unlocked. “Ok I’m going to leave.” It was an agonizingly slow exit as they never turned their back on the stranger.

“Sorry I ruined your night out.” Once his accent came out their heart dropped just the tiniest bit, it didn’t help that he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck exposing a rather good physique in the muscles of his arms.

“No, do not try to play the cute guy card with me.” Their hands pressed onto their hips as the shortness of breath from the entire situation finally caught up. A strained sigh came over as the lights reflecting off the rainy pavements were not helping.

“The cute card?” His hands fixed his suit as he finally exited the bar smoothly opening the umbrella right over both of their heads. “I’d rather say I’m just charming in general.” His wink was met with a side eye. “Alright I kind of get the sense that maybe I did something wrong.”

“Hmmmm I’m not sure let me go ask someone in the bar if they know,” It was the fake walk back to the bar that made him chuckle. “Oh yeah that’s right, they’re all passed out!”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I was Batman or something?”

“Batman doesn’t fight crime dressed like Bruce Wayne.”

“Batman isn’t Bruce Wayne.” The seriousness in his voice just made the joke even better. Their eyes rolled with a smile as a well deserved slug was met on his shoulder. “Let’s start over,” He offered his hand for a shake. “Eggsy.”

“Eggsy?” The bridge of their nose scrunched up in thought. “I haven’t been in the UK that long but I will admit that’s the most unique name I’ve come across so far.”

“Well my real name is Gary but I go by Eggsy!” His face was beaming as he explained the story of his nickname. On the other hand the poor bystander was just wanting to go home.

“Yeah that’s really cool and all but I kind of need to get home.” It was their polite yet desperate grimace and the shuffling of feet that made Eggsy connect the dots. Maybe don’t go straight for someone you’re interested in right after making them think they were your next victim. The string of muttered curses that left his lips made it hard to not fall deeper into the surprisingly chill and trendy guy. “Y/N, forgot to tell you. That’s my name.” Finally learning the mystery person’s name gave Eggsy a little faith that he wasn’t a complete failure with charming someone.

“That has to be the weirdest name I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh shut up!” In what would be the weirdest of situations the two found light at the end of the tunnel, a blossoming friendship that Eggsy only dreamed would turn into something else only with time. “No but seriously I have work at 7AM, I need sleep.”

“Do you need a ride?” A part of Eggsy was holding onto hope that the offer would be accepted but he knew the chances were slim.

“As much fun as that sounds, I drove here.” Y/N held up their keys as they pressed the lock button a couple of times causing the car to beep back. “Thanks for the offer.” The night was cold as they rubbed their hands together. “I hope to never see you pissed off at a bar ever again.” A cheesy smile was plastered on their face as Eggsy’s face flushed slightly but due to the cold weather he was able to hide it.

“Yeah hopefully next time we meet, it isn’t like this.” Y/N’s head turned towards him as they laughed a bit.

“What do you want my number or something?” The laugh died fairly quickly as they noticed the look on his face.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed.” He gently kicked a nearby rock. After a quick number exchange the two finally went their separate ways. Y/N noticed the number scribbled on the back of some business card as they slipped it over for further inspection.

“Kingsman?” Some store they had never heard of as they just got in their car and headed back to their apartment. Opening the door their roommate came barreling through giving them a hug.

“Oh my gosh, I was so worried when we lost you at the bar!” Y/N’s shoulders slumped into the hug.

“Yeah you guys were real worried alright.” The tone and sentiment were definitely called for especially since nobody even reached out to help. Not wanting to give it the light of day Y/N just went to their own little room and locked the door. That whole friends thing was for another day, but not now.

The next morning was uneventful as their shift went by with nothing really special happening. Not a bad day, not a good day, just a day. But hey at least the customer’s weren’t the absolute worst today.

“Can I clock out?” The manager slightly jumped in her seat not noticing their hire, engrossed in their emails.

“Oh yeah, thanks for your help.” And with the okay to leave it was a race to find somewhere to get food. With food on the brain, they almost passed something until a shiny golden logo caught their eye. It was the Kingsman store, Y/N took a peek through the window to see what exactly was being sold there but was met with Eggsy who sat across from another man dressed up just like him.

“No way.”