#bruce oneshot

[zyhkoo]

☆ don’t blame me

jealous batboys x f!reader

requested by anon

Dick

As his partner, it was expected for him to cling around you. No matter where you went, he was there. Your apartment, the supermarket, outside your work area- anywhere really. He doesn’t mind if you get along with his friends and family, he’s very happy that you get along with them. But if Dick sees someone he doesn’t know, smiling and spending time with you. That’s when he gets jealous.

Today, he went on his usual routine by fetching you from work but then he spots you with a man he doesn’t know.. Dick leans towards you, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to his body as he interrupts the conversation. You raised your brow at the sudden gesture but he ignores you.

Dick glances at the man that you have been talking to, narrowing his eyes slightly. He doesn’t say anything to the man, for now. Instead, he glances down at you, a small smile on his face. “Hi, babe.”

“Dick this is-“ he immediately cuts you off “Uh, huh.” He nods, completely ignoring the man as he keeps his gaze fixed on you. “I was just looking for you.” He pulls you even closer to his side. “I missed you.” He murmurs, his hand on the side of your waist, gently massaging your hip.

You looked at him skeptically “You just saw me an hour ago?” you crossed your arms. He tilted his head. “And?” A slight pout formed on his face. “Can’t I miss my girlfriend?”

The man in front of you two chuckled “Well, my name is Romhelle, I was her former classmate back in high school.” he explained. That made him immediately stop pouting. His eyes darted towards Romhelle, silently sizing him up. His grip around your waist tightens ever so slightly.

“Oh? You two go way back then, huh?” He tried to sound as casual as he could, but clearly, there was a hint of jealousy in his voice. “Not so.” Romhelle replied “We weren’t that close.” he added. You glared at Dick “See? You don’t have anything to worry about.”

He chuckled quietly, glancing down at you before his gaze returned to Romhelle. “Oh, I’m not worried. I know she’s mine,” His hand moved from your hip, and to your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. After bantering with the guy, he immediately got along with him. He was laughing, talking with him like they were best friends and as if he wasn’t jealous a moment ago. You only stood there absolutely baffled.

Jason

Jason doesn’t like sharing unless it's with you. Stephanie asking if he could share the cookies he bought? Nope, it’s his. Tim asking if he could borrow his controller? Just use your own. Damian borrowing his equipment? Absolutely not.

He would especially be Jealous if you got along with his family members. The way you laughed and enjoyed your time with them made him feel so petty. He doesn't know why he was like this, but he always hated it when you interacted with them. He would always try to find reasons to pull you away from them, whether it be 'training' for a mission or going on patrol.

He huffed as he leaned back into the couch. His eyes are not leaving you talking with Damian. He knew he should not be jealous over something so small. He was his little brother after all, why is he so worked up about him? I mean, he’s so much better than some kid. When Damian left, you finally noticed what was up with your boyfriend.

“What’s the matter?” you asked. He looked up at you, arms still crossed over his chest. He let out a huff, avoiding eye contact as he talked. “I’m not jealous.” You only chuckled “I didn’t ask if you were jealous.”

You sat on the floor with him and cupped his face, squishing it a bit “C’mere. Tell me what's wrong.” you coed teasing him a bit. He pouted more when you squished his cheeks. He tried to look annoyed and upset, but it was hard not to feel happy with you. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked away, mumbling. “It’s stupid.”

You looked softly at his eyes “Come on, tell me.”

“Mn? Why not?” you asked.

“Because they’re annoying and obnoxious. Why are you getting along with them so easily?”

You caressed his face “Hey, there's no need to be jealous. I just enjoy their company, that's all. It doesn’t mean I enjoy yours less.” you reassured him. “I’m not jealous.” He mumbled, he scoffs. “I just don’t know why you like them so much, it’s pissing me off.” You only chuckled softly “Oh, come here you.”

You grabbed his face and placed a hard kiss on his cheek. He huffs, his face was dusted pink as he refuses to look at you. “You’re embarrassing me.” he said as he leaned to your touch anyway. You placed another kiss on the same spot “That’s the point.”

He couldn’t fight the small smile that tugged at his lips as you continued placing kisses on his cheek. He felt a warm sensation spread in his chest.

Stephanie walks in the two of you, her gaze darkened as she looked at the two of you with a scowl. “Gross, get a room!” she exclaims. Jason glares at Stephanie as soon as he notices her standing there. “Why don’t you learn how to knock, Blondie?”

Bruce

Bruce doesn’t really get possesive, he knows he’s yours and you know your his. If a guy would hit on you, he would just tell them to back off. But if someone way out of your league has your attention, that’s when he gets jealous. Why would you enjoy your time with a lame person?

When he introduced you to Clark, he had never been this Jealous his entire life. How did you get along with him so easily? He doesn’t get it, he literally has a reporter salary…

On the drive back to Gotham, you noticed he was more silent and brooding as usual. “What’s wrong, love?” you asked. “Nothing.” he grumbled, his hand tightening on the steering wheel.

“You know you can’t lie to me, Bruce.” You said, rolling your eyes. He stayed quiet for a few moments before letting out a sigh. “Clark.” he muttered under his breath, a scowl on his face.

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hold back a snort. “What about him?” you asked, pretending to be clueless. Bruce's scowl deepened as he shot you a sideways glance. “You were getting along with him pretty well.” he grumbled, his tone laced with annoyance.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his jealousy. “Are you...jealous?” Bruce's grip on the steering wheel tightened even more. “Jealous? Me? Of Kent?” he huffed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Please.”

You placed a hand on his thigh, trying to calm him down. "Don't worry, love. You have nothing to be jealous about." you assured him gently. His body immediately relaxed at your touch, and he reached down to cover your hand with his. "I know." he muttered, his scowl softening slightly. "It's just... Clark has a way of getting under my skin."

"You were laughing at his jokes," he remarked, "...You never laugh at my jokes."

“But you don’t do jokes.”

"I can do jokes," he protested, "I just... choose not to."

You smiled, finding his grumpy expression endearing. "Sure you do," you teased, patting his thigh. He let out another huff of annoyance.

"It was... annoying."

“You think everything Clark does is annoying." you pointed out.

[emacrow]

Orphan's baby

Cass was in the middle of helping the Batfam along with Batman raids through the the hidden base they had found underground lab in an abandoned hospital messing with a neon verison of lararus pits liquid.

Red Robin had already adjacked the security and was going through the files with Spoiler. Nightwing and Red hood beating up the guards while batman was battling with the main boss behind it all.

She was with Robin as they were taking some samples and destroying the remaining ones.

She had already crack through most of seemingly important hidden rooms that seem to be hiding completely full with containers full of lararus pits with tags of PH4N70M, and a winter blue colored marble in a container sealed to the safe that was spelling out electricity every minute in the container.

It looked important, but why a marble..?

She broke the container holding the marble, taking most of the lararus pits containers as well while destroying the remaining unaware of the glow that pulsed in the marble.

By the time is was to retreat, everything was in the clear as Spoiler needed to unscramble hidden files that were behind multiples firewalls.

They were at the batcave when they were securing the containers of lararus pits for later sampling, only for the marble to be missing..?

She was sure that she place it in her bat waist pouch, but it wasn't there anymore..

Did she dropped it accidentally while collecting the containers of larausu pits?

It was already too late to check back now, so she decided not to tell anyone yet.

Until 2 months later, she started feeling downright sick nauseated. Right after Dinner of Alfred's infamous lasagna Tuesday, but.. it tasted a bland which was throwing her off completely.

She was only dropping down by the batcave to just self analysis herself.. only to stop walking half way the secure containement holding all the lararus pits that they brought back..

She couldn't stop herself from staring at it with vast hunger before the swirl of neon green filling her vision and blank her conscience out the window..

Only to wake up in her room on her bed, 3 empty containers with not a inch of lararus pits left inside as if it was wiped-or licked clean. She hide the containers under her bed and stood quiet later on as nobody had noticed yet what she had done.

She doesn't know what had happen, but the nausea and sick feeling went away as if nothing happen.

Hopefully it would be a one time thing...

Bruce and his long lines of lawyers had disbanded the GIW completely over the illegal experimentally on sentient aliens of another world which they tried to label them as ghosts until they tried to accused Superman of being one of them which quickly label their entire Government supported work as hate crime and was steady being searched, along finding a couple of missing traumatized teens, adults and children that had vanished the months before in the other hidden labs.

...

....

.....

She had her head in her hands as she silently groaned when she peak her eyes between her fingers to see several dozen empty containers and immediately close her eyes to try and pretend she didn't see them.

It only been 5 months since that incident and she had seemingly got away with it, but then nausea came back with vengeance like no other, and the increased appetite was new, but yet it didn't filled her belly with the bland taste or satisfaction even though she did felt a bit feint during the couple of night patrols despise feeling energized earlier.

Something was wrong and she know it as she went to the only person who could help her right now.

She went to Alfred straight away silently explaining the situation going on because she honestly have no idea was going on with her and she know she loves his food, and the feint spells, and the monsterous appetite and the insatiable need to swallow a crapton of lararus pits with twelve milkshakes and fourteen bags full bat burgers.

Alfred could only stared with his eyebrows raising slowly with every word spilling out of her mouth.

Alfred helped her get examined in the batcave medbay, and 2 hours later the blood result came in.

Case was pregnant, but It was a almost cryptic pregnancy.

Alfred didn't had the equipment out for a ultrasound at all yet, but from he know from Cass it was during the Raiding of that hidden lab and her being in contacted with this 'marble' that seemingly disappeared after she grabbed it.

That was 7 months ago, but luckily Alfred caught it in time before it literally became a cryptic pregnancy.

Oh the ultrasounds pics of the little baby fetus with his fast beating lil heart beating were precious as he got tiny misty eyes a bit compare to Cass's awestruck look staring at the screen then back at her belly.

He does help get extra vitamins pills, and call her off of Crime duty until further noticed . Bruce on the otherhand was concerned but all he got from Alfred was the You Better not investigate this because I have major blackmail of embarrassing toddler photos against you.

This is Alfred moment that he been waiting for since Bruce became a new adult but not yet sired a baby at the Wayne Manor at all. He is savoring this for the memories and scapebooking time. He is cranking opened that forgotten but clean baby nursery of forlorning hopes.

2 months later, By the time Cass was ready to deliver the baby on February 11, and at February 12th, 12:01am.

Wren Alf Cain was born premature yet crying softly into the word.

[percabething]

when the fic has an aesthetically pleasing layout but the writing is… questionable

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I'm not saying yandere Dick Grayson would baby trap his darling...but he most definitely would

Warnings: toxic and abusive themes. forced domesticated life, mentions of baby trapping, purposeful weight gain, manipulation, dick is a good hubby though, he's just so desprate

Please just hear me out on this concept. Now i've said before that Dick Grayson would've realistically had to put a halt on his personal life and relationships because alongside being nightwing and keeping his family together, it'd just be too much.

Could you imagine Yandere! Dick is like hitting his mid-thirties at this point, work is growing old and all of his siblings are just about adults and he's exhausted. One day, the siblings are all just chilling around the mansion and the topic of what they plan to do with their life after being a vigilante comes up. Dick hadn't though about it ever because well...this consumed every minute of his life but he figured he'd probably settle down and start a family. Jokingly one of his siblings said, "How could you ever find time for another family when you're already the matriarch of this one?", and it just hasn't left his mind since.

Fast forward and he's sitting in a dinner alone after patrol and he's just watching this family and their kids and it just hits him that he'll never have that at the rate he's going. If he doesn't end up dead from his work, he'd probably end up rotting in that mansion alone because he's too busy fixing the messes Bruce made with the others. He's been a "father" to his siblings since his teen years and he has not much to show for it. I mean he's proud of all of them but...he's still just their older brother...

He goes home and is thinking about just how happy that father looked while throwing his kids up in the air...or how beautiful his wife looked carrying their unborn child. He envied how simple and perfect their life was. They didn't have to miss out on life to fight crime around the clock or to piece back together something he never broke. They could happily go home..with each other and be proud of what they've made. He's looking back at his life and while he knows he's accomplished so much but being an actual dad is something he'll never get a chance to be. Not while he's still playing as the head of Bruce's household.

Yandere! Dick Grayson who now wants to be a father so badly and to come home to a pretty wife who truly loved him. Not just some one nighter who couldn't see past his body.

He met you by chance a few weeks later. It was while he was grabbing food before his nightly patrol, and the spark was like never before. It was fate. or delusion You were destined to be his pretty wife and be his ticket out of that mess. You're so perfect

Dick is maybe a little too eager to make his desires a reality. Like he's completely ready to let go of his previous familial duties to make way for his new ones. It's a huge shift but it's a necessary one. This is his Fiona Gallagher moment. He's steadily loosening the grip and ignoring calls to be fully focused on you. Dick wants to prove he'll be a great husband who won't neglect you for anyone else even if they're as close as family. He can't let them get in the way anymore.

He doesn't care if he has to manipulate his way into your heart, he's going to have you. He's the only one that'd ever be as good to you as he will be. There's not even a money limit on how much he's willing to pour into this process. If it takes paying your rent or car note to prove he's provider material...then so be it. Anything for the future mother of his children.

!Yandere Dick Grayson who doesn't even know if you want kids or marriage but he's so far gone in his own fantasies that he just assumes you have the same goals as he...even if you don't...you soon will..I like to think he slowly shifts you into being a stay at home girlfriends and floods your mind with ideas of this being your purpose. He needs you to know just how great you are at being domestic...this isn't so bad right? You could do this for the rest of your life!

Like i said he doesn't mind throwing money at you if it'll make you desire this life with him. Besides, he prefers you to be financially dependent on him. You are so shy when you ask him for things but he loves knowing that you need him, just like a good wife does.

First he's just always wanting you over his house for cute dates, then it's becoming a weekender situation...then a few days out of the week and now you practically live with him.

In the meantime he's doing subtle things like cooking dinner and breakfast with you at the same times every day. This is so you'll automatically start doing this on your own and so you know what he likes and at what time. He's got you doing shopping runs for the home. He's a sneaky little shit who asks you to throw in his laundry and clean up his messes while he's at work. He of course compensates you for being such a great helper. Your new job is here at his home. It fills him up with so much joy when he comes home and all your tasks are completed.

Yandere! Dick who is always surprising you with foods and snacks you cannot resist to make you plumper for when you're carrying his baby. Of course he's denying the allegations when you jokingly tease him about making you fat on purpose but we know the truth. Still, he's loving your body regardless, it needs to be healthy with extra fats to keep your children protected. He can barely contain himself though when he sees your little stomach pudge , it gets him all too excited for the real deal. It makes him feel all the less guilty about tampering with the contraceptives when he thinks about how gorgeous you'll be when you're swollen with his baby. I mean you're already this cute with a little bloat.

Oh just the thought of you walking around in public and everyone who sees you know that you're already claimed..ugh He doesn't know what to do with himself. You're all his and no one can steal you away from him. Not when you don't have any time. You're too busy taking care of the home and the baby to be bothered by anything else.

You won't be too mad at him, right? I mean just so desperate to have a quiet new life. He wants to be a father so bad, please let him have this. He'll be so so good for you and the baby.....he needs this.

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

By the Fireplace

BRUCE WAYNE X READER

MDNI wc: 1.2K summary: Finally snapping the sexual tension between you and your best friend. warnings: alcohol comsumption, dry humping a/n: It's not perfect but it's also nearing midnight so i don't care. Enjoy!!

It‘s been a relaxing evening so far, hanging out with your long time best friend in his lounge by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, and some deep talk. Bruce will never openly admit it, but he feels like you are the only one who understands him. While being slightly drunk, it‘s easier to relax and shut his mind off. Especially sitting beside you on the comfortable couch; he wants to stay like that forever.

The shared comfortable silence almost makes him fall asleep, but his mind can‘t seem to find complete peace beside you. Even when his head is leaning against the top of your head, he can‘t seem to fully relax yet.

You feel almost the same. You do feel relaxed, safe even, but something keeps stirring inside of you when you are so close to him. Ignoring it and taking another sip of your drink, you watch the fireplace crackle contentedly in front of you.

Bruce sighs out beside you, indicating his tiredness after talking about everything and nothing for hours.

»Want a refill?«

He leans off of you for the first time in probably half an hour and reaches for the whiskey bottle by the coffee table. You shrug and sit up more, letting him fill your glass with the dark liquid.

His movements are slightly disoriented, but he manages to get all the liquid into your glass, and then get more for himself. With a low hum, Bruce sips on his drink, eventually leaning back on the couch. His once perfectly put together appearance became more dishevelled, some strands of hair sticking out in different directions while his tie is resting somewhere in the room; long forgotten.

You also take another quick sip, already used to the bitterness and set it aside for now.

»So… I think it‘s time to go, isn‘t it?«

The time on your phone shows that it‘s well past one am, but Bruce thinks otherwise. A small whine leaves him, completely uncharacteristic normally, but very on point in his drunken state.

»C‘mon, you‘ve only been here for what… two hours?«

He sways on his spot as he leans up and turns to face you fully.

It‘s not exactly true, you‘ve been in his living room for six hours by now, talking nonsense with each other. Gossiping, mostly.

But with your intoxicated brains it‘s hard to tell anymore. So, logically, you sigh out and give in. How could you resist your best of bestest friend anyway?

»A few more minutes, then...«

And that‘s how easily you can make him smile again. It‘s crooked and his eyes are mostly unfocused, but he is satisfied with your easy compliance. And tonight, he seems to be bolder with his actions.

»C‘mere… please,« sighing out, he opens his arms and almost tackles you down with his hug, »such a good friend.« He mumbles against your shoulder, basically squeezing you tight with his arms. If it wouldn‘t been the alcohol, you would‘ve pushed him away by now and pretend to find the physical affection cringe. Not that he does it a lot, only rarely when he is sure you are both absolutely alone.

A second after, you hug him back and sigh out in relaxation. You both melt together into one not too long after, refusing to let go of the other while basking in the comfort.

»I‘m definitely sleeping here tonight.«

You are not sure if you refer to his arms or couch, not caring at this point. He takes your words seriously and squeezes you lightly, almost making your breath hitch.

»Mhm… damn right, you will.«

His voice drops lower, getting into a low whisper as he keeps you close to his chest, refusing to let go of the comfort and sweet scent of you.

Even though you didn‘t mean your words at first, you find yourself quickly accepting the fact that this night will be spend here. Hell, you wouldn‘t mind falling asleep right now like this.

A small groan leaves him and he finds himself nuzzling into your neck, searching for more warmth and most importantly your scent. He needs to make sure you are actually still there and not just a silly imagination he came up with.

Following his actions, you wrap you arms tighter around his neck, shifting to press closer. Your clouded brain can‘t help it, neither does his own and soon enough, your limbs are tangled with the other in a more chaotic way. Thanks to Bruce‘s master-brain, he finds a more comfortable position and lets you straddle his lap.

Finally seated, you both relax and simply enjoy the presence of the other. You don‘t know what changed exactly, but in the next minute he is all over you.

Hands groping gently at your curves and fats, lips tracing your skin down your neck and shoulder. Your shirt seems to be in the way, but he is also too lazy to tug it off just yet.

Your brain catches up on what‘s happening and by the time he already started, you can‘t just stop. Acting by logic and pure desire, you give into the act and tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his head around a little.

Soon, the room fills his soft grunts and your heavy breathing. His hips desperatly jerk up and try to get friction, but it‘s harder in this position when his chest is pressed against yours and you are also pressed completely against him. Deciding you have enough of the friction that‘s barely even there, you lean him back into the back rest and do it your own way.

Hips grinding and sliding against his crotch earns a groan from both of you. The new friction feels more intense and delicious, soon getting breathless from it. His hands settle on your thighs and the small of your back, guiding you in a steady rythm.

Due to the effect of the alcohol, it‘s actually more sloppy than anything, but you both couldn‘t care less. It‘s sloppy, messy, hungry, whatever; you both need this.

Your heavy breaths turn into small whimpers, getting him riled even more than he already is. And then it happens, the final knot snapping without warning. You never came so fast before, maybe it‘s your intoxicated brain, maybe it‘s just Bruce alone, but it feels heavenly either way.

Your hips stutter and thighs shake on either side of him, and for a moment he stills too. A primal groan leaves him before he grabs onto your hips and continues, the pace faster and rougher. His brain immediately went to mush the second he realised what happened.

»Oh, yeah— s‘ good f‘ me… just like that, a little longer,« Bruce mutters under his breath, sucking new marks against the exposed skin of your neck and suddenly drags your hips painfully slow against him, trying to draw out as many needy sounds from you and milk out as many possible aftershocks from you at the same time.

The way he does it is enough to draw a second orgasm out of you, but your body simply gives out. A few final trembles and jerks, then you slump limp onto him.

Sighing out deeply, he caresses over your back and settles back comfortably with you. Your brain shuts off at the same time and are on the brink of falling asleep until he speaks up, voice low and dangerous.

»That‘s not all, doll… gonna stay the whole night, aren‘t ya?«

←MASTERLIST

[teddypines]

Thunderstorm

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Sumary: Cute moment with Batmom!reader and Damian who is afraid of thunderstorm.

Batmom!reader x Damain, Fem!reader (Use of she/her pronounce)

Note: I don't know Batman lore like i know mcu lore. Everything i know is from the cartoon's i watched as a kid and the fanfic's and webtoon i read. So if somthings are out of charachter, i'm sorry. Also the other boy's live at home i don't care if it isn't canon. Art/picture is from Pintrest, credits go to whoever made it.

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Damian always acted like he was an adult, because in his eyes he thought he was, even when Y/N knew the boy was far from being an adult. She always tried to give him small moments that normal kids his age had in an attempt to make up for the things Talia had done in the past. This included letting him come to her if he needed, no matter the time or place.

It was just a normal Friday night in the Wayne household. Y/N was cuddled up to Bruce’s side on the couch. Jason and Dick to her right both bickering about which guy the girl on tv would end up with. Tim was curled up in his blanket on the chair, tiredly typing away on his laptop and Damian was trying to stay close to Bruce’s side but didn’t want to make it obvious that he wanted to cuddle. The rain outside made for a cozy feel for the whole moment, it made Y/N happy. The kids and Bruce are safe at home with her and not out on patrol or fighting crime. 

Y/N sighed as the tv show Jason and Dick were watching was finally over. So she took the remote and quickly turned the channels to look at the weather forecast. “Owh, boy looks like we are going to have a thunderstorm tonight. Good thing I don't have to worry about you all being out.” Y/N said before switching channels again. The fact that it was going to storm didn’t really bother Bruce or the boy’s. Except for Damian, he was stressed internally, but he didn’t want his brothers to know. They would probably laugh if they knew he was scared of a thunderstorm. Y/N looked over at Damian. “Everything okay, Dami?” She asked, the troubled look on Damian’s face made her worry. “Y-yes, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about, just tired.” Damian rambled back at Y/N. 

“I bet little Dami is just scared of the thunderstorm.” Jason commented as he leaned back against the couch, a small smirk spread across his face. "No! I am not scared!” Damian yepped back at Jason, he pouted a bit after. Bruce held back a small laugh at Damian’s pouty face which earned him a jab in the side form Y/N. “Don’t tease your brother like that, Jay bird and Dami, it's okay if you're scared of thunderstorms” Y/N said hoping to resolve the small situation. Jason grumbled a bit before getting off the couch. "Fine! I'm off to bed.” He wanted to quickly disappear, but Y/N didn’t let him. “Night night, Jay bird” She said with a smile. Jason groaned and quickly hugged her. “Night mom” He whispered to Y/N.

“I think I might go to bed too,” Tim said after Jason left the living room. He closed his laptop and wiggled out of his blanket. He made his way over to Y/N and Bruce, Y/N already opening her arms for Tim. “Night night, Pumpkin” Y/N said to Tim when he was safely in her arms. “Goodnight, momma. Night, dad. Love you” Tim answered, staying in Y/N’s arms for a little while. “We love you too, Pumpkin” Y/N said in between kisses she placed on Tim’s head. Bruce wrapped his arm around Tim too, but only for a moment. “Now off to bed, Pumpkin, don’t want you to fall asleep here again” Y/N said which made Tim reluctantly pull away. Soon After Dick said his goodnights too and left the living room with Tim. 

“You should go to bed soon too, Dami, and if the storm scares you it’s okay to come to us. We’ll protect you from the storm” Y/N said in an attempt to sooth Damian’s worry about the upcoming thunderstorm. She reached over Bruce and gently ran a hand over Damian’s head. “I’ll be fine, no need to worry” Damian answered a bit distant. He didn’t want Y/N (or Bruce) to worry about him. “Just know we’re there when you do need us” Bruce said to Damian in a stern but reassuring way. Domain just nodded his head and pulled off the couch. “I’ll be fine, night”

It did upset Y/N just a bit that Damian didn’t get his usual good night hug, but she knew he would be by her side the moment the thunder storm started. Bruce pulled Y/N on top of him and kissed her cheek. “He’ll be back, love” 

<----------------------------------------------------------------------->

The thunderstorm started around 1:30 AM, just when Y/N found a comfy position next to Bruce. The thunder wasn’t as bad in the beginning, but got worse after 20 minutes. After one particular loud thunder Y/N awoke to the weight shifting on the bed. She opened her eyes and was met with a very scared Damian. “Umi? C-can i stay with you and… and dad?” Damian stuttered through his tears. "Always, baby” Y/N answered. She pulled away from Bruce’s side and turned over so Damian could cuddle against her. “I see you brought mister Moo” Y/N pointed at the plush cow in Damian’s arms. “Maybe…” He whispered, busying himself with finding the best way to lay next to Y/N. Wanting to be as close to her as he could. He slowly closed his eyes but flinched when another thunder strike was heard. 

“Shhh, it’s okay Dami, you're safe in bed with us. No need to be scared, Thor is just a bit extra made at Loki tonight.” Y/N whispered to Damian. a reassuring hand was placed on Damian’s back. Damian shifted his head to look up at Y/N. “What?” Y/N laughed a bit. “You heard me. Thor is mad at Loki, that’s why the thunder is so loud tonight. Loki probably stabbed him again or tricked him by being a cute snake.” Y/N explained as Damian listened. He knew that what Y/N said was just based on stories and myths, but he liked it. Made the thunderstorm less scary. “Really? Why would Loki do that?” He asked. “Well, Loki really likes attention and sometimes he thinks he doesn’t get enough of it, so he asks for attention. But he does it in the only way he knows how, by being a little shit head and stabbing Thor or tricking the others.” Y/N explained. Bruce groaned a bit as he heard Y/N talk. He turned over and saw Damian hiding against her. 

“Or Thor just stubbed his toe.” Bruce added while propping his arm underneath his head. “Yes, that is possible too” Y/N answered with a small nod of her head. Damian laughed a bit and yawned. “I like that one better, big oof stubbing his toe.”

“Yeah, see now the thunder isn’t so bad is it?” Y/N asked as she yawned as well. Damian only nodded his head in answer. The storm outside was still going on, but Thor just stubbed his toe so that made the thunder more understandable. It was a story, but the story helped Damian feel less scared. 

Y/N smiled as she watched Damian fall asleep against her. She turned her head to look at Bruce. “Out like a light,” She said. Bruce smiled and tried to lay back down next to Y/N. “Yeah, but he’s taking all of the comfy spots on the bed” Y/N rolled her eyes and held out her hand for Bruce to hold. “Tomorrow night you can sleep against me again.” Y/N reassured Bruce while he held onto her hand. “Fine, but I expect extra cuddles then!”

“Alright, love you” Y/N promised before drifting off to sleep. Bruce smiled at the two. He placed gentle kisses on both their heads before falling asleep as well.

[mellowmadds]

Casual Study Dates | Peter Parker

(MCU) Peter Parker/Fem Stark Reader

Warnings - slightly suggestive

Summary - Avenger’s compound a usually busy place hustling with activity seems unusually quiet for the day. leaving y/n and Peter in a sticky situation (pun intended)

Word Count: 1,237

°°••....••°°

Avenger’s Compound, a place that’s usually bustling with activities and combat training sometime’s has quiet days like this where super-powered humans who have insanely intense hearing can hear a pin drop from across campus. For you though being one of the youngest on the team you hated those days because it seemed as if everybody always wanted to see what you were up to. You weren’t necessarily an avenger but you were extremely smart and helped out around the lab and worked on some Stark Industries projects with your dad every once and a while. And that’s how you met Peter Parker and during those first two years of awkward conversations and study dates you two seemed to find some comfort in all that awkwardness.

“Are you nervous about MIT sending out their decisions soon?” Peter asked while getting comfortable on your bed while staring out at the beautiful city view.

“Why would I be nervous Peter? Most of my family are MIT Alumni.” You said a bit cocky if you really think about it.

“I- know it’s just I figured maybe you’d be experiencing the same nerves I was. It was a stupid question nevermind sorry” Peter stuttered out.

“You don’t have to be sorry Peter and you definitely don’t have to worry my dad put in a good word about you. You’re one hundred percent getting into MIT” You told him confidently.

You knew Peter was an anxious person and you’d do anything to take his nerves away.

“Now are we going to keep stressing about MIT or are we going to figure out these formulas that Bruce gave us to solve?” You asked while holding up the stack of papers labeled ‘Top Secret Formulas’.

Peter nodded his head yes while lifting his body off your bed to instead sit on the edge of the bed closer to your desk where all of your work was scattered across your laptop.

“But first I need to put some music on or else I won’t be able to focus” You said before sliding the miscellaneous papers off your laptop.

“That’s the Stark in you talking, how can you focus better with music blasting in your ears?” Peter asked while laughing.

“I guess you are right, that is a classic trait of my dads. But it just helps me focus better. I don't know, I can't explain it.” You turned on your playlist before flipping to the first page of the stack of formulas Bruce assigned you to solve.

Your speaker was loud but who cares it’s not like anyone cared or was listening everyone was off doing their own things. The first few songs were upbeat and fun but the farther you got into your playlist the more guilty pleasure songs started playing, but Peter didn’t mind he was blocking out the music anyways so he could focus better on the formulas in front of him. What you didn’t know was that Steve and Nat were standing outside your room listening.

“Knee deep where? doing what?” Steve said worriedly looking over at Nat.

“It’s just a song Steve stop being so old-school” Nat smirked back at him.

“But Peter’s in there with her, what if they aren’t actually studying?” Steve asked as any worried uncle would.

“The song is talking about having relations in the bathroom during dinner time, that’s not appropriate Nat” Steve said firmly not accepting any excuse now.

Nat wasn’t interested in continuing this conversation any further and started walking toward the living quarters where there sat Bucky, Clint, Bruce and of course Tony.

“What’s got you so tense Cap? Your boyfriends right here if you have to relieve some tension” Tony laughed making fun of Steve and Bucky’s unusual bromance.

“I think you should worry more about what your daughter and Peter are doing upstairs” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“What? What are you talking about Cap? His vigilant ass better not be corrupting my innocent perfect daughter” Tony angrily stated as his face turned a shade of red nobody expected.

“They are listening to a song about having relations in the car and bathroom” Steve said pointing upstairs to your room.

“And you didn’t shut it down the moment you heard that? What kind of uncle are you?” Tony asked running up the stairs to take a listen for himself.

“Oh my gosh the lyrics are filthy but it sounds so calming, how does an artist achieve that?” Tony muttered under his breath before harshly knocking on your bedroom door and bursting in unannounced.

“What’s going on here?” Tony yelled loudly only to be met with a view of you sitting at your desk and Peter sitting on your bed leaning against the headboard with a textbook and stack of papers sitting on his lap.

“What dad? We are busy figuring out the formulas Bruce gave us. Why the hell is everyone crowding outside my room?” You asked, pointing towards Steve, Bucky, Nat, Clint and Bruce all huddling in a circle outside your bedroom door.

“Well we heard the song you guys were listening to and were a bit concerned. You guys aren’t acting on those lyrics are you? You guys better not be under my roof” Tony questioned with a look of disgust on his face.

“What the hell are you going on about dad?” You asked looking over at Peter who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

“Are you guys having sexual relations?” Tony asked in disgust as your playlist suddenly skipped to the next song which would make your case even worse.

“Head so good, she's an honor roll she’ll ride your what like a carnival?” Tony repeated the lyrics.

“I am on the honor roll though, so it’s not entirely a lie” You replied back smirking like a smartass.

“This is not a laughing matter young lady, we are talking about something serious here, answer my question right now” Tony stated with a straight face not joking around anymore.

“Yeah we are and what about it?” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/n not in front of everybody” Peter said shyly.

“Who cares Peter they were going to find out sooner or later anyways, might as well just tell them now” You said looking back at everyone’s shocked faces. As you looked past your father behind him stood Bucky handing Clint a ten dollar bill.

“You guys had a bet going on about us?” Peter asked, looking back and forth between them but also keeping one eye on Tony just in case he might try to kill him.

“This conversation is not over and from now on this door stays open” Tony said sternly ignoring all the giggles and snarky remarks coming from his fellow avengers. Your playlist then starts playing a different song which lightens up the mood just a little.

“This one has a dance to go along with it, watch H-O-T-T-O-G-O it’s like the YMCA'' You said while doing the dance.

“I like doing the YMCA” Steve said, smiling now entering your room.

“Of course you do because you're ancient” Peter said jokingly.

As you can expect you didn’t think you’d be ending your day teaching Steve Rogers the Hot To Go dance however you wouldn’t trade the quiet days at the compound for anything because at the end of the day you’re just one big family and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[kurogxrix]

I think a Bruce and reader meet cute/love at first sight would be cool! Welcome back! I missed your writing ❤️

Away, Away, Away

Bruce Wayne x reader

IN WHICH you accidentally stumble into the one and only Bruce Wayne on your way out of the club for your birthday. To you, it’s a fuzzy conversation with a blurry stranger you can’t even seem to recognize, to Bruce, it’s love at first sight.

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: Reader is shorter than bruce, Bruce lowkey being a perv, mentions of alcohol, reader being drunk, mentions of puke.

Bruce was tired. Exhausted even, if he allowed himself to be the least dramatic. Between being Batman, his hectic relationship with the borderline mentally deranged kids he’d somewhat decided to bring home all these years ago, and his messy on-and-off relationship he had going on with Selina, he was done. 

He wasn’t often seen like this, work attire still clad on his broad figure, muscles so tense and rigid under the restraint of the tight fabric. Walking through the dark streets of Gotham where he could be recognized and nagged at any moment. Though he needed a moment alone, and maybe breathing the damned polluted air of Gotham could do him some good.

Albeit complaining, he didn’t want to be here. He craved the falling residues of black eyeshadow, the tight and suffocating kevlar suit. He craved the violence and vengeance, the freedom and enslavement of being the Bat. Though tonight Alfred had forced him into the sidelines because he had been far too distracted, and he’d be damned if he’d even think of crossing the butler. 

So instead, here he was, Valentino dress shoes clicking against the concrete sidewalk as he envied those children of his that were currently occupying his favourite nightly pastime in his place. Bruce huffed, rolling his blue eyes like a child. All the most billionaire-like behaviour. 

The distant sound of music began resounding in his ears, and as he lifted his head to glance at the direction in which the music came from, the yellowish glow of the overhead sign casted him like an angel caught in the midst of golden hour. Bruce stalled, hands in his pockets as he took in the sight before his very own eyes.

Apparently he had managed to walk his frustrated self all the way to the club, mid city, a whole hour walk away from the mansion. Ever the detective that he was, his sharp eyes fell upon the sight before him. He felt his shoulders stiffen upon the realisation. The sidewalk was bustling with people, and people could only mean nuisance, especially if you were the billionaire playboy that he was. 

There was a crowd by the door. Some people drunk, some people high, and some busted off whatever they could get their grimy hands on. Women in tiny sequin dresses, dainty heels that made them swagger with each drunken movement that they took. Men clad in beach shorts and most likely the first shirt they’d found laying in the back of their unorganised closets. 

Bruce watched as one of the women doubled over, emptying the entire contents of her stomach, lunch, dinner and probably the many drinks that she’s had before even stepping foot inside the club. He scrunched his nose at the unwanted sight, but his stomach didn’t turn, he’d seen far worse as Batman. These little things couldn’t phase him anymore. He averted his eyes as she doubled over for a second round, her short dress rose up her hips even further as her equally drunk friend attempted to sooth her.

Bruce rolled his eyes for what seemed like the 10th time tonight, rolling his eyes at the infuriating human antics asif he was any better himself. He could remember the last time he’d gotten so drunk to drown his never ending sorrows, but he didn’t want to remember, and maybe a sip of some hennessy could help drown those memories, and make new ones that he would regret once more instead. 

Nevertheless, he was ready to leave the site before anyone could catch a glimpse of him and ruin his night furthermore. He turned around, sharp on his heels as he attempted to retrace his route back home, where he could only hope that the butler he considered family would finally agree to release him into the crime-filled alleys that he considered home. 

Although his march was quickly interrupted as he felt a sudden weight crash into his chest, a quick yelp, then the feeling of a small palm connecting with his chest in an attempt to chase stability. He barely flinched at the impact, ever so the man that he was, but the suddenness caused him to halt for a second. Frozen in his steps, eyes wide and that frown of his etched impossibly further onto his face. 

Bruce always wanted to believe he was a humble man, really, but being ranked so far up above the rest of society could only do so much to a person. He scoffed in offence, disbelief written all over his face at the fact that someone had dared to even stumble into the one and only Bruce Wayne. Sure, he felt like a bratty kid soon enough and his eyebrows unfurrowed from their tense position, but he couldn’t help it.

He gave himself a minute to calm down, before taking a few steps back to glance at his assaulter. 

Though the second he glanced down, good lord… 

You were looking at him with those eyes that made his breath hitch, palms sweaty in the blazer pockets that they were currently residing in. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, from the way your lashes were long and dark, layers of mascara coating them as you blinked up at him. Black eyeliner, eyeshadow and whatever else that adorned your face, Bruce wasn’t sure he cared at the moment.

You were beautiful, breathtaking, and soon he had to manually remind himself to take in a huff of fresh air. He remained silent for what felt like hours, taking in the way your hands were still very much planted upon his broad torso. Thick silver hoops were dangling off your ears, reflecting the yellow light coming from the club in a way Bruce believed was comically stunning. Everything about you made his heart rate excell the scale, and soon a frown settled itself back upon his lips, unaware that it had ever left in the first place, as he felt your hands retracting back to you. 

“God these heels are killing me…” you muttered to yourself, and Bruce watched you with amusement. You bent down to fix the strap of the shoe that seemed like it was apparently ‘killing you’, stumbling a few steps back as you allowed yourself the space from whatever you’d just collided with. The thought crossed the billionaire’s mind that you had not even discerned that you had in fact collided into another human's chest, and not whatever inanimate object you believed you had walked into.

“I don’t even know where my friends are…” his interest peaks as you speak again, but when he glances down, you’re still bent in half trying to fix your shoe strap. ‘You’re talking to yourself, unable to even acknowledge that there’s another person standing before you’ he thinks, that’s how drunk you were. 

He was going to huff, really, but before he could disrupt your peace, or at least whatever peace was left, he couldn’t help himself from the way his eyes strayed upon your figure. The way the seam of your long, black backless dress seemed to dip so low felt sinful, and Bruce felt disgusted with the way he allowed himself to glance at you in such a way. The drunk past her mind woman who had just fucking crashed into him. 

He heard murmured curses coming frown below, forcing his eyes to snap back towards your still facing-the-floor face and he cleared his throat, making his presence known. In a split second, you were back up straight, as straight as the alcohol coursing through your veins currently allowed you to, but straight nevertheless. Bruce couldn’t help the tiny grin that lifted upon his lips as he watched you, wild hair from the bend, eyes wide as you stared at him like some mad woman.

Your dress was scrunched in the middle from the position you were previously in, and despite everything, you were still the most beautiful woman that Bruce had ever seen in his entire life. All thoughts of Selina, Talia, Vicki or whichever one of the hundreds of women he’d involved himself with in his years of living, vanished from his head completely. Stuffed at the back of his mind to never be found again, he felt his cold heart beating for you, and it scared him. 

If only you knew that you had managed to spread fear into the one and only Batman’s heart, you’d never believe yourself. Because he didn’t even know you, and yet he burned stronger for you than he’d ever gone with anyone else. 

Suddenly, the sound of a warm giggle enveloped all of his senses, and Bruce felt like he was dying. He’d never felt like this, never even for Selina, the woman he once thought he could leave the Batman life behind for, the woman who’d left him at the altar and broke his heart like she’d done just about every few months. 

“What’re you made of? you feel like a brick wall.” slurring up on your words, you sent him an apologetic smile as you stuttered on your sentences. 

“I just work out a lot.” he responded lamely. Watching as you rolled your eyes playfully at him, clutching onto your purse that looked like it had seen more fights than he had. And that said a lot coming from The Batman. The fake leather material was beginning to peel off, and he had a single thought at the back of his mind.

He wanted to give you a better life, he craved it in fact. A life where you’d get the highest quality purses, endless choices of Birkins, and probably shoes comfortable enough that you wouldn’t feel the need to stumble into every neighbouring stranger in search of stability. 

Talking about stumbling, you seemed like you could barely stand straight for the life of you. He didn’t think twice as he saw you slightly lose balance, reaching a hand out with the help of his Bat reflexes, before you could hit the ground. But that was heavily exaggerated, the worst that could happen would be your purse slipping off your shoulder, but maybe all that Bruce needed was an excuse to have his hands on you.

He felt somewhat disgusting all over again, yet he couldn’t help himself. The skin of your arm felt so smooth under his rough, calloused palm. He could feel the heavenly feeling of your lotion under his palm, and now he definitely felt creep-ish. 

“You can barely even stand straight.” he blurts out and watches as your lips contort into a smile, before that laugh of yours escapes your lips and Bruce feels like flying. Like a real bat. 

“I know, it’s my birthday today and my girls took me out. It didn’t help that we drank just about the amount at the bar at home before coming here..” 

Bruce hums, muttering a small ‘happy birthday’ that he’s pretty sure you haven’t heard. 

He’s blurry to your eyes, just like the rest of the world currently was, but it didn’t escape you that he was covered in an attire that didn’t seem to quite fit the aesthetic of everybody else, especially not clubbing or walking around the city at this time. 

“What are you doing here? You don’t seem just as drunk as any of us, and trust me, in no offence do i say but you look like you’ve just ran away from a business meeting.” you laugh again, and he can’t find it in himself to be offended. He almost chuckles, but he saves it and gives you a tiny grin instead.

“Just needed to get away for a minute.” 

“Trouble in paradise?” you ask, and he shrugs, uninterested in talking about his issues with Selina. She was in the past now, and Bruce knew that he needed to move on, to think about the future. 

For a split second, Bruce believes he’s messed up as he watches your face contort slightly under his words. He mentally cursed himself as he tried to rack his brain to find where he’d messed up. But honestly, he can’t quite understand why he’s putting so much effort into a stranger. 

“I wish I could help you with your wife but I'm not quite sure I'm qualified for this, especially not in this state.” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders like he’d done so just a moment ago.  

Bruce is more than aware of everything at the moment. From the way you try to hide your disappointment, to the way you try to avoid his eyes as you glance down at the floor before you. Hell, he’s not even sure that you’re thinking straight, but he’s hurt at you being hurt, and everything overwhelms him. He’s not used to caring like this, not this fast at least. 

He’d cared this deeply for one woman in his life, and it’d taken them years to get where they were, yet she’d left him standing there all alone like a fool, and Bruce wasn’t sure he could forgive anymore. 

“I’m not married.” He doesn't know why he’s blurred it out so quickly, but something inside of him felt the need to defend himself all of a sudden. He shrugs before continuing. “Things got messy, but I ended it after all.” 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” you can't help but trail off, feeling guilty for making something that seemed to hurt him resurface in the span of your drunken stupidity. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, I actually feel lighter now that it’s over.” 

There’s a moment of awkward silence that fell upon the both of you as you stared into the void, and Bruce could see that you obviously didn’t consider his words as true, and the guilt still gnawed at you like a vulture. 

Tho before he could even get a work out, a sudden swoosh of breeze rushes over the both of you, and Bruce observes as goosebumps come rising up your delicate skin. The hairs of your arms raising as you shivered upon impact. He was quick to make a work of it, shrugging his blazer and offering it to you in a quick, silent and almost nonchalant movement. 

“Please, I'm really not that cold.’ You smiled sheepishly as you tried to fight the way you’re all up and shivering all of a sudden. You’re drunk and not the least worried about the fact that you’re wearing nothing but a pair of black, lace panties under the long skin tight dress, but a certain playboy took notice of it.

It’s sinful, he is aware. He’s aware that you aren’t aware, and it makes him swallow in self loathing. Still, it was a miracle that you’d managed to have this effect on the billionaire playboy. Same guy who’d had a different woman hanging at his arm just about every gala he attended. Still, he averted his eyes back to the floor as he shrugged once more, silently ushering you to take on his jacket so he doesn’t have to glance at you again. He wasn’t sure for how much longer he could remain civilised, at least not when you were standing before himself 

Soon, he feels the expensive fabric of his suit jacket slip off his fingers, and onto yours. When he allowed himself to glance back at you, he’s marvelled by the way you swam in his clothing. His eyes were quickly back on the floor, feigning interest in the cracks along the sidewalk. So much for being civilised. 

The conversation lasted for what felt like a minute, but in reality you had strayed from your ground and had ended up talking to Bruce for about 45 minutes, and soon you became aware of it. From the distance, the sound of your name resounded from a female voice, one that you recognized very well. 

You peeped behind Bruce’s broad shoulders, and he too turned his head around at the sound of the name being called. He turned around to glimpse at you at the revelation, such a pretty name for such a pretty woman, he thought. 

It didn’t take long for the taller woman to reach you, and it was obvious that even with her heels off, she was still about a head taller than you were. She must’ve been your best friend, from the way she hurried by your side, and the glare that she threw towards Bruce’s way was lethal. 

The Wayne distanced himself a few steps back, if anything to show to the intruding woman that he meant no threat. She didn’t seem as drunk as you did, but he could still smell the vodka that clung to her pretty orange floral dress. Bruce watched as she clung two hand to each sides of your arms, rubbing them comfortably in and up and down motion over the fabric of his jacket. He couldn’t hear what she was hushing to you, but he made out a few ‘are you okay’s and a stray ‘do you even know who you’re talking to?’ 

You shrugged, not finding anything serious in the situation. When you’d wake up tomorrow morning with that imminent pounding headache, then you’d truly realise how stupid you really had been in that situation, and if Bruce hadn’t ever been the gentleman that he was, at least you thought so, then it could have ended bad for you. 

A couple more minutes of conversation with your friend later and an awkwardly standing-there Bruce later and she was gone, walking back to the group of women that Bruce had deducted as your friends. He didn’t miss the way your friend had thrown him a last deadly glare on her way out, and he found it somewhat amusing. 

“Sorry about that, she’s kinda the mom of the group you know…?” you shrugged, sounding confused about it yourself. The more the night gave in, the more you were starting to feel like you couldn’t understand what was going on. Nevertheless you continued. “She came to tell me that the uber would be here soon enough, soooo…” you trailed off again, staring off into the distance where your friend had walked back to.

“I don’t want this night to end, I don’t want to go back,” you whisper the last part like a hushed secret between the two of you, and if you could hear yourself talking clearly, you would’ve thought that you were really in love with this stranger you had just spent nearly a whole hour speaking to. You could’ve dreamt it but you swore that you heard a grumbled ‘me neither’ coming from the brick wall of a man standing in front of you. 

“I could always drop you back home if you want to.” he’s not really sure why he’s offering, because it’s sketchy coming from a random guy you’d just met off the streets, drunk off your mind, and a part of him prayed that you declined for the sake of yourself and a near future where you’d meet another stranger, drunk off your mind again. Plus it wasn’t like he had anything to drop you off with, he had walked his frustrated self here while stomping on the concrete sidewalk like a bratty toddler. But Bruce was always one to keep his words, and if he had to find a way then he would. He was Bruce Wayne after all. 

“Hey I really appreciate you and all but my mom would really smack me up the head if I accepted a ride from a stranger so..” your giggles trailed off the end of your sentence, not necessarily apologetic as you rejected his last minute offer. Maybe for the best, you could never know in Gotham. 

For the first time in the entire night, Bruce allowed himself to laugh for real. Allowed himself to show the side of Bruce Wayne that he showed to the public, except that it wasn’t a public act this time, it was all real. Real for you.

The vulnerability that he displayed for you would’ve made your heart swag in all sorts of directions if you even knew who was standing before you. Though you were quite sure that in the moment, you wouldn’t have been able to spout out even a single word if you were well aware that Bruce Wayne was talking to you, of all people.

There was another call for your name, and this time as Bruce and yourself turned to glance at the caller, you were met with the sight of your girlfriends trying to usher you into the car now waiting beside them. At this moment, Bruce understood that this could be the last time he’d ever see you, and with the way you were glancing up at him, he could tell that you were thinking just about the same. 

Bruce could still hear your girlfriends calling for you endlessly inside the uber, and he could see the reflection of one of them half-in and half-out the car trying to lure your drunken self inside. Though he didn’t care, he wanted to keep you here as long as he could for the night. He was selfish, he knew, but he dedicated his whole life to this city, to hell if he decided to be selfish for once in his damned life. 

His eyes observed carefully as you fished your cellphone from your purse, the device crammed between what seemed to be like a keychain which was absolutely suffocated by an unnecessary amount of keys, and a few tubes of what he believed was lipgloss or lipstick. Probably the ones you were wearing right now. He made a mental note to give you an endless array of those someday, just the best he could find, not any of that cheap shit you had stuffed in your bag. 

Next thing he knew, the frontal camera of your phone was stuffed in his face, and you stood so close to him that he could smell the perfume you were wearing just fine. He gave you a confused glance, and a curious raise of his eyebrow.

“Just need to know tomorrow when i wake up if you were really this handsome, or if I was just really this drunk.” you shrugged your shoulders like it was the most normal thing to spill, and Bruce felt his heart speed up the pace. Though it didn’t show on his face, ever.

You smiled at the phone, and Bruce managed to pull a slither of a grin just at the thought of the situation. He adjusted himself to meet your height so he could at least fit in the frame of your camera. 

Your phone is too much of an old model for it to have the frontal flash, so instead you’d  have to do with an extremely low quality, dark picture of yourself and this stranger.

You couldn’t deal with the proximity anymore, and you’re sure that this exotic smell that was enveloping your senses was that sweet cologne of his. It was hard to resist the way he was glancing down at you once you retracted the phone back at your side, waiting for you to say something as you tighten the jacket around your shoulders. 

He doesn’t really expect it when you regain your position in front of him, and even less when you scurry into your top toes to press a kiss against his slightly pink cheek, the effect of the cold making itself evident on his features. He’s tall, and aware, yet he doesn’t understand why he meets you halfway when you raise yourself high off your toes and bends down to help you offer him your little token of appreciation. 

The kiss is quick, and it leaves a warm and tingling feeling along his skin. He’s almost sure that there’s a large, red kiss mark on his cheek, but he’d be more than pleased to acknowledge it especially if it came from you. 

Once you’re back on your feet, you lose all the confidence you’ve had before. And by now your hands are hidden behind your back as you stare up at him with that look that makes Bruce want to offer you the whole world. 

“Thanks again Mr…” you hesitate, and it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t even know his name, and yet you’ve just called him handsome, bumped into him, talked his ear off for a good hour now and even kissed him. Even if it was the most innocent kiss on the cheek. 

“Wayne.” Bruce replies simply. Your moment is cut short once he feels the presence of your girlfriends besides him, and soon she’s grabbing onto your wrist and pulling her towards the car as you struggle to balance off of your heels. 

He watches, a smile on his face as you’re pulled off. You manage a little smile and an off-balanced wave as you’re pushed into the car. Soon all he’s left with is himself, the music in the background shifting from one song to another as everyone outside rushes back in. A summer hit, he thinks. Nothing for him. 

Bruce falters for a second, before turning on his heels and dragging himself back home. Though this time, he leaves with the distant memory of the strange woman that was talking to herself, and the lipstick mark burning into his skin in a way he thought he could die for. 

All he could think about at this instant was that he wanted to take you away, far away from Gotham, from the life you were both living, because he could see that it wasn't enough. He wanted to give you the best, and even if it’s miles away, then that’s where he’d take you. 

-

A/N: Thank you so much anon for your request, this was originally supposed to be a short 1.5k words drabble but oh well… Enjoy🫶🏽

[anitalenia]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𝒄𝒘: sexual content ahead, husband!bale!batman, fem!reader on top, riding, some dirty talk, soft sex, not my best writing but fr fr don’t come for me im just trying to post things okay? ahhhhhhh 😔🤚🏻 maybe some typos 😚 i oughta be ashamed of myself fr fr 😔😔🤚🏻🤚🏻 ₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆; eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy.

Labels. These were all just labels Bruce never particularly cared for nor paid attention to, monickers used to try and simplify who he really was so he could be easier understood. Labels used to better classify him because rich men like him supposedly didn’t have depth or purpose beyond what the media claimed him to have.

They were just labels, words that barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

Bruce had been called many things in his life, too many awful and offensive things he had quickly learned not to pay attention to. Caring gave them meaning, he was told so early on, caring gave them significance. Now, he really couldn’t care less.

Throughout the course of his life, throughout all the tragedy and grief, Bruce had learned to ignore it all; the names, the judgments, the looks, the labels. His indifference had become second nature, an innate response to anybody trying to provoke him.

He didn’t really have a choice anyway. There were too many people praying on his downfall since his birth, too many people biting at the fruits of his labor to see if they were ripe enough for the taking. Selfish, greedy, money hungry men desperate for his demise.

Sharks lurking in untamed depths ready to snatch him up if he swam too far, hiding in the black shores with their sharp teeth bared and beady eyes hungry.

Despite what many people believed, Bruce didn’t have it so easy in the sense of work and spirit. When you were rich like he was, famous like he was, as powerful as he was, everyone believed you couldn’t possibly be burdened by anything.

That he was too spoiled by the grandness of life that it had gradually bled into a lack of work ethic, that it was his last name that gave him any status at all, that it was his reputation that gave him everything he had without him having to ask for it.

He had the money to fix any problem, the influence to hide any scandal, the face to get him out of any situation he needed to get out of.

He was CEO of Wayne Enterprises for gods sake, son to Thomas Wayne, a man that was great and beloved all in his own right. Yes, people had doubted Bruce’s ability to lead, to run a business after so long of being away from it, but then he came back and proved them all wrong as he usually did.

Being someone so honorably renowned in Gotham City, someone that carried the Wayne name at that, it came with its own barrel of familial obligation and responsibility outside of his own personal commitments. He couldn’t disappoint anyone, could never fathom disappointing his late father.

Working by day a normal man with a bullet on his back, a price on his head to any hungry buisness man willing to do whatever it took to get to the top. Then working by night as Batman with the bruises and scars to show for it. Someone every criminal and lowlife in Gotham City wanted dead.

Batman, not so much a label as he was a separate being entirely. It was Bruce, but he couldn’t find any similarities between the polite buisness man wearing a suit by day and the other man wearing a blood stained mask by night. One was forced to coerce with society in the manner of business and passive aggressive smiles, another undertaking the grueling task of removing the grime from it.

Bruce Wayne was all expensive cologne and hand shake deals, money hungry tabloids and self absorbed white collars. It was a life always on display, always the center of attention, always everyone else’s focus.

Batman was purely mystery and intrigue. Hidden from sight yet found in every shadow, heard in the trembled whisper of every breath. No one knew who he was yet he had somehow gotten all of their attention. Everyone eager to know who was behind the mask but no one ready to answer for why he existed in the first place.

The only similarities they shared were the cause for conspiracy. Whether it was Bruce or Batman they stole every headline — always someone trying to figure them out, bring their true identity to light and spread more moral quandary about whether they were right or wrong for every choice they made.

Pure opposite lives he juggled in the same two hands.

No, he did not have it easy. Always more enemies than friends and more snakes than family. Every hour, every minute, every second he spent left exposed there was always someone right behind him ready to push him if he faltered.

He had to be careful; always be passive and nice, diplomatic and respectful to those he knew wanted him gone, to the people who wanted his seat at the head of the table and the money in his bank. Bruce had to be the CEO his father wanted him to be, the one he was destined to be, the one etched into his history before he was even born.

He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to live, a job to do.

But no, it was not always easy.

Being rich and handsome like he was did have its downsides, as meager as they may seem to less fortunate individuals. Many people hated Bruce Wayne just for those simple, superficial things alone. His looks, his status, his job he was so rightfully given. Apparently this made him an asshole, arrogant, narcissist.

It was looks of hatred and envy from men he’d never even met, women he’d abandoned after a steamy two hour hookup (not that he did those anymore but women loved to hold a grudge), businessmen who cursed him to hell and back for his amount of wealth and fame he had no control over.

He didn’t care about these people anyway. These rambunctious, single minded people who preyed on the weak and ate the hopeless. They were all self centered, arrogant, narcissistic. Self absorbed scum unwilling to put in the hard work necessary to be as successful as he was.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bruce was often regarded as someone lonely, someone lost, someone desolate and pitiful. He was a coward, hiding in his soulless black mansion under thick piles of money ever since the fatal death of his parents. So sad, an orphan, just depressing.

That was hushed whispers behind his back and somber stares, awkward, harrowing smiles from coworkers and the front pages of newspapers. Bruce Wayne back from hiding after all this time… living on his father’s name… will he fail or carry on the legacy of the great Wayne fortune… yada yada yada.

Just more words. Pointless and purposeless, written to appease the swill of Gotham with no real substance behind them. Gossip, false news, attention grabbing headlines that were purely speculation.

However, as much as he hated labels — more so his — whatever names he got called behind his back, Bruce couldn’t find it in sensible reason to argue that they weren’t pieces of who he really was. Fabrics of his character torn out thread by thread and poked and needled at by societies curious hands.

They were just pieces, stretched and torn so far from the truth but yet the original strings were still there, hanging on in remembrance of what he truly was chaotically intertwined in the lies and deception of what people thought him to be. Too shredded to be properly understood but still thriving in the undercurrents of whatever he was now being labeled as and people were now foolishly believing him to be.

Yes, they were just labels. But labels that were not so far from factual truths.

However again, none of those words mattered to him as much as this did, as much as the one label that he truly cared about.

Husband.

Your husband.

The only title he held in the same esteem as Batman and Wayne Enterprises CEO, perhaps even higher. It was one of the only labels that carried a semblance of true meaning, one he didn’t shy from.

Husband. It was the only honorific that mattered to him, one of the only sentiments that made him feel actual pride in who he was. Husband was something real, concrete, not some anonymous opinion in a paper or a cruel murmur in a hallway.

It was the label that pierced him through and through especially in moments like this, moments when your hips were rolling deeply on top of his and he was buried balls deep inside your warmth.

He couldn’t think about anything in this moment. Nothing and everything at the same time as your finger nails, freshly manicured and glittering, gripped into his shoulder blades as you rolled your hips once again.

Bruce winced pleasantly, jaw clenching as his head leaned back into the softness of his black silken pillows. Brown hair frazzled and stringy, his smooth skin alight with a soft, lovesick glow.

You rolled your hips once more in a soft soothing motion, nothing too rough and nothing too fast; the evening had called for something more sensual in the delicacy of Bruce’s touch and the softness of his words just an hour prior.

“Oh Bruce…” You sighed dreamily, hands pressing into his bulky arms as he sighed out a trembled breath from his nose.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his heavy hands squeezing your hips but not as to pressure you, only to keep you connected to him at the hilt so he was never too far out of you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, get it just like that… mmhmm.” Bruce swallowed heavily, voice low and raw as his eyebrows furrowed over darkened hazel eyes. Fingers thrumming on your skin as you pulsed around him, wetness seeping out of your full entrance and gliding down his length until it could leave a memorable darkened patch on the sheets.

You whined quietly, voice high pitched and greedy as the length of him filled you up and pressed into every soft wall surrounding him. He was always thick, always perfect, always felt so fucking good it made your muscles tense and spasm.

You rolled your body in that delectable way he liked once more, barely moving yet every part of him felt the sparks of pleasure thrum through his skin and make his thighs lock up.

Bruce groaned hotly at the action, eyes flickering down to the wet mess of where your pussy was sucking him in. It was messy, glistening, shared arousal in white strings of mutual attraction. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass from where it sat perched on his strong thighs.

“Mm, fuck, honey.” Bruce breathed out gruffly more to himself than you when the sight of your wetness smeared all over him made his heart spike.

You didn’t respond, chin down to your chest and eyes closed as you focused on the pleasure in your own lower regions, the fullness and heaviness that filled you up and refused to part.

“Ohhh, feels so good-“ You gasped as a heavy spurt of pure pleasure sparked up your tummy, hole clenching around him tightly as an obscene gush of wetness leaked down his cock and onto his thighs.

Bruce licked his dry lips, eyes staring up at you heatedly; at the tightness of your shut eyes, the sweet moans gasping out of parted lips — lips, lips that were glossy and plush from all the needy kisses you shared with him just a mere moments ago.

He was enraptured by you, by your naked physique all soft and sweaty on top of him but he didn’t care. You were just so beautiful, pussy so perfect wrapped around him, squeezing his cock so good it made his mind fog up with indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, sweetheart, god, yesss…” Bruce agreed huskily, his head resting back on his pillow once more as you bucked your hips. His thighs tensed, toes curled, a grunt sounding in his throat as his hips rose to further dig himself inside you.

He couldn’t help it; like a soul to a light he sought you out, your warmth and tightness so snug and comforting around him he didn’t ever want to be apart from you.

You whimpered at the intrusion, nails digging into his skin in a painful sting that Bruce was too fucked out to really notice.

He swallowed hazily below you, eyes closing then opening to look down at the way your pussy molded into one with his hard cock as you rocked gently against him. Deep inside you where he was meant to be, stomach and pelvis and thick thighs soaked with your gushing arousal.

Fire shooting down his legs and tummy with every soft bounce back down on him, illicit wet noises sounding in the room with every desperate grind.

He loved that sound, your wetness mashing with his thick base. But not nearly as much as your melodic sounds gasping out every so often because his cock made you feel that good.

His mouth was terribly dry from his own grunts and moans, handsome face and muscular chest flushed pink, the air so so hot he could feel his own dark hair sticking to the dew on his fevered head.

His hands, big and clammy, dug into the soft fat of your hips to help you dig into him in that way you both liked, the one that had you both gasping hotly into each others mouths as you leaned down to give him another sloppy kiss.

You couldn’t quite get it right though, too distracted by the feel of him so deep inside you that your lips stuttered on his. Moving messily against him as you whined into his mouth once more, the tip of his cock so high up inside you it almost hurt.

He was always so big, so round and tall that the stretch alone always seemed to ache pleasurably with every short thrust he made inside you.

“That’s good, sweetheart… that’s it… just how you know I like it…”

Bruce breathed heavily against your lips from where you were leaned on top of him, naked breasts mashed to his chiseled chest and hands gripping onto the headboard now.

You needed something sturdy, something unbreakable to tether you back to him when you felt the pleasure making you float too far.

His breath was hot against your sore lips, mingled with your low moans and spoken just above the subtle creaks of the bed; sounding every time you moved above him in a sensually quickened pace that had your toes curling and thighs tensing.

“So beautiful, sweetheart, so good…”

Bruce couldn’t help but compliment you even in the most nasty of times, voice clenched yet breathy, spoken through hot breaths and pressed teeth as your wetness dripped down his length once more.

You moaned sweetly at his doting words, his voice cracked and low in that gravelly salacious tone you loved so much.

You clenched around him in response, his fingers tightening on you as he let out a handsome groan from the feeling. You watched as his head sunk into the pillow beneath him, eyes clenched shut and a heavy grunt leaving his chest.

The sight was attractive, seeing him so wrecked from just a few simple back and forth motions you were carefully orchestrating.

You felt a wave of stinging pleasure spike up your thighs and down your legs, up your tummy and into your head until your whole body was tingling. Your eyes brimming with unshed tears as sweat prickled at your skin and your legs burned from sitting for so long.

You didn’t care about the pain, too drunk on the sensations of his thickness rubbing inside the most intimate part of you, your hips rolling in desperate circular motions so he was never completely apart from you. You liked keeping him inside as much as possible, to feel that fullness and that dull burn to remind you of just how big he was.

Bruce loved it too, resting inside your warmth, comfortable, letting you take him however you wanted in whatever way you needed. He was always a giver, always a good husband when you needed him to be.

“F-fuck, Bruce, you feel so good.” You gasped wantonly, voice quiet yet fragmented, needy and breathless as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah, honey? It feels good?” Bruce replied just as quietly, being sure to thrust up into you just a little bit harder so you’d gasp some more for him.

It was lewd, lovely, his dirty words spoken onto your quivering lips and his meaty hands gripping your thighs to help aid in your eager movements.

It felt so good, so right, being there with him in the darkness of his room with only the sound of your shared panting and moans filling the silence.

It was hot and perfect; his hands on your thighs gripping hard enough to show you he doesn’t want you to stop, your mouths ever so often pecking together in a sweet kiss you couldn’t continue, fond gazes in darkened irises.

“Feels so good, Bruce, I can’t—“ You whimpered out all cutely, sliding up from his chest until you were sitting straight up once more. You could feel him shift inside of you, hardness still prominent and throbbing. He pressed against your walls, invading every nerve point as your clit rubbed against his naval in the new position.

Bruce gripped the flesh of your ass between his hands, helping your soft rocking motions against him as he spoke, “Yes you can, pretty girl, you always do for me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart, you have no idea…”

The praise made you smile brokenly. Your skin so hot it felt burning yet every grind against your husbands hard cock made your legs go numb. You whined and bucked above him as a tightness started to stretch in your tummy.

“Always for you, baby…” You managed to mumble shakily, lovingly, hands sliding over the abs on his stomach as you sat back on his lap so not a single inch of him wasn’t inside you.

Bruce clenched his jaw at that, hands digging into your hips as he thrust his own up to meet your soft grinds. Sparks, electricity, all of the cliche metaphors for how good he was feeling shooting down his cock and into his legs as his knees tensed up.

He felt lightheaded yet completely grounded, here to his mattress. Floating in the skies yet simultaneously stuck on earth with you, his gorgeous wife who always made him feel sane and normal.

Your hair was tangled around your shoulders and falling over your flushed cheeks as you stared down at him with a fond glimmer in your eyes, bright and burning under the lust so boldly wanting.

The stretch of him inside you was so good, his gravelly moans so good, the way he was making you feel so so good.

You exhaled as you settled your weight down on his pelvis, pussy sore yet eager as you squeezed around him once more. Love struck eyes looking down at him passionately as the moon cascaded a light gray glow behind you.

Bruce felt the air escape his lungs, lips parted as he stared up at you in utter devotion; you were so beautiful, so sweet, felt so fucking good around him he couldn’t even think straight. Brain numb and thoughtless, only you and your perfect pussy, you, you, you.

You took a moment to stare back at him. Unspoken love was whispered in the shadows of your eyes bright and glittering as your movements picked up into polite, subtle bounces that had Bruce digging his hands into you, breathy sounds escaping his lips.

“Ah, Bruce…” You mumbled weakly, voice soft and needy as you tossed your head back and moved your hips up and down so his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you he usually loved to tease.

“Such a good job, sweetheart, so beautiful like this…” Bruce spoke huskily, staring at your heaving breasts as they jiggled and beckoned him forth, beautiful and pure as you rode him to high heaven in your most organic form.

You hummed into a delicate moan, a smile quirked on your lips at his praise as you felt his hands slowly start crawling up the exposed expanse of your waist.

Warm and big and tender as they moved up, up, gentle fingers tracing over your ribcage as your flesh prickled at the touch. He was delicate, always intent on your pleasure over his as he admired your form above him, the feel of your skin under his textured hands that had hurt so many.

You trusted him, your husband, enough to see you like this. Trusted him enough to have you like this, to allow his bloodstained hands to wash over you like he himself was something pure and untainted, bestowing him your presence like a merciful deity to their promised worshipper.

You bit your lip as his palms enveloped the fat of your breasts into them, molded perfectly into his larger hands as he squeezed and admired them in a fashion so familiar for him; he always loved your breasts, enamored with the softness and weight of them in his greedy hands.

You stared down at him with a heated tenderness, the look of a wife irrevocably in love with their husband as he stared up at you with the same fervor.

When he was here, with you, there were no labels, no obligations and no judgments. With you he was just yours, another body made of flesh and blood and bone melded to yours in the conjunction of where his body ended and yours began.

He was no one but he was your everything, hands on skin and lips on collarbones, sweat amongst sweat and heady moans breathed in the gasps of kisses shared between two lovesick spouses.

In this space, in this moment, with you on top of him and his hands all over you any remnants of shame and Wayne inspired obligation was vacant. All he needed to do was sit and let you take him, sit there and be of use when you wanted to use him.

He was a good husband, the best husband to you, his perfect and lovely wife who never addressed him as anything more than yours. He wasn’t this, he wasn’t that, he was just everything and more in the confines of silken sheets under the safety of his mansion.

No cameras, no gossip, no press and no watchful eyes. Serene, tranquil, just you and him and the great love you shared that transcended any label or common sense humanity could fathom.

Yes, he was Bruce Wayne. Eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy. But those things did not define him, did not set his reality in stone so easily as your love did. He was all those things but he was so much more.

You never judged him, looked at him as anything more than the most important thing. You regarded him with love no matter his past, his present, and hopefully and most likely your shared future.

You didn’t care for labels or surface value lies like everyone else did. You ripped him at his seams, tore him apart to see what was inside and he was ever so grateful for it, for that loving animosity that bared his soul to yours. You were straightforward, heart to heart or nothing at all because then what was the point?

There was no purpose without pain, without pleasure, without love. You suffered, you loved, and you were most definitely bringing him pleasure. All blunt and raw emotions too passionate and loud to ever try and hide or make lies about. No secrets, no deception, no labels.

This night, every night just like this one — nights spent in your arms deep inside where he needed to be most, were nights where his mind was bare and he was just yours. Nights when he didn’t have to put up a face or make up a lie or tell a tall tale.

He was Bruce, he was yours, he was just this. And most importantly, he was just your husband. The only label that really mattered and the only one he ever really cared about. ₊˚⊹♡

tagging , @little-miss-chaoss , @ghostslillady , @boobaeri , @prayingal

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bats Need Lives Too

Requested Here!

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x wife!reader

Summary: Bruce and the boys have bad days, and as their mom, it's your job to make them better.

Warnings: Bruce and Damian are on the autism spectrum, Jason jokes about dying, mentions of murder and Joker, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | DC Masterlist | Request Info

Photo from Wayne Family Adventures on Webtoon (via Google)

A/N: I don't have autism so I based this depictions off research and common symptoms; if it's inaccurate, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it!

“Bruce!” you yell from the top of the stairs. “Damian!”

You pause, but there’s no reply. Taking a step down, you hit the creaky stair that Bruce hasn’t fixed (for security purposes).

“Ma,” Jason greets as he comes up the stairs. “I’m going to go get some sleep. I told B and the demon brat to do the same, but you know them.”

You smile at his attempt to stay on your good side and wave him past as you wish him a good night. He has a room at the manor like all of the kids do, but it depends on their day and Bruce’s mood as to whether or not they use it.

“Bruce, honey,” you call again as you descend into the Batcave. “It’s time for bed. You too, Damian.”

“We’re almost finished,” Damian replies without looking away from the screen.

“Bruce,” you repeat firmly.

“Almost done,” he mumbles.

You look up toward Wanye Manor, then reach over Bruce’s shoulder to turn the computer monitors off. Damian huffs as Bruce continues to stare at the black screen.

“Boys,” you begin again, squatting between them with a hand on their shoulders. “I know you’re getting close, but you have to sleep. Especially you, Dami.”

Damian considers it for a moment, then nods. Bruce turns toward you slowly, and you smile when his eyes meet yours.

“I’ll hug you both until you agree to go upstairs if that’s what it takes,” you threaten.

That threat used to be more effective before Damian came to expect your hugs daily. Both he and Bruce, all of the Bats for that matter, tend to run from love, but you’ve become the loving mother they need, even when they don’t like it.

“Go to bed, get some sleep, eat some breakfast in the morning, and I promise Gotham will still be here when you’re ready to investigate more.”

Damian slips away from your hand and walks toward the stairs. He calls a weak, “Goodnight,” over his shoulder as you take his previous seat and look at Bruce. He looks tired, though you’ve come to expect it now.

“Bad day?” you murmur, gently taking his face in your hands.

“Will I always be two steps behind?” he asks against your palm.

“If you don’t stop to rest, you’ll be three steps behind,” you answer honestly.

“You’re supposed to say, no, love and light of my life, you’re doing great,” Bruce teases.

“And you’re supposed to listen to me. Now, are you going to bed with me, or shall I invite Goliath to keep your spot warm?”

“When did you become the bad cop?” Bruce asks as he pulls you up and against his chest.

“Since your children started acting just like you.”

“What will Alfred think?” Bruce asks dramatically.

“That he deserves five times as much vacation time now that there’s so many of you.”

When Damian’s teacher at Gotham Preparatory called you in for her concerns about Damian’s behavior, you took what she said seriously. You knew about Damian’s past and his family, of course; when she kindly suggested having him screened for autism, you already knew what the doctor would say. You’ve suspected for years that Bruce was on the spectrum, but having him or his children screened would be a Gotham Gazette headline and a press nightmare that you did not need. So, you did your own research on how to help your boys whenever they need it. Within a few days, Damian was interested in your new approach and set out to learn about the disorder with you.

“Dick told me it was impolite to call people disgraces, but disordered is acceptable?” Damian asked as he read an article on the screening process.

“The person isn’t disordered, Dami, it’s a neurological and developmental disorder. That just means the way you learn, and act isn’t the same as normal people,” you explained. “Though, personally, normal has always felt like more of an insult.”

Damian tutted in agreement before he continued reading, and you smiled as you flipped through a list of symptoms you’ve seen in the manor for years. Many of them had occurred before Damian came along.

“Hey!” Dick calls as he and Jason enter the manor. “So, gala tonight. Is it mandatory?”

“It is,” you answer with a sympathetic frown. “Though if you bring a date, I’d be more than happy to make up excuses for why you leave early.”

“That’s never gotten me out of patrol before,” Jason argues.

“Are you talking about when Poison Ivy doused you with her plant toxin?” you reply.

“I wanted to leave early with a date.”

“She would have killed you,” Dick interjects. “What is wrong with you?”

Jason shrugs as he uses his default answer of, “Died once.”

“That’s enough,” you stop them with a chuckle. “Yes, you have to come to the gala, but you don’t have to stay the whole time. Especially if you’d like to take Damian with you when you leave.”

“I thought he was doing better,” Jason says.

“He’s getting better at the social communication issues, but, you know, it’s Gotham and he’s got a social battery just like the rest of us.”

“Is that why you’ve been separating him and Bruce?” Dick asks.

“Just on the bad days. They need space and a chance to do something they actually like. It’s worked better than anything else, and then, when they’re ready, I force them to receive my love.”

Jason shudders dramatically before you direct them to see Alfred for their suits for the gala. Dick and Jason both hug you on their way out, and you sigh as you return your attention to a memo for Wayne Enterprises about Bruce’s upcoming sabbatical. He doesn’t know it’s coming, but he needs it, and you will make him take it.

The night after the gala, you roll over in bed and reach for Bruce. His side of the bed is empty, and you open your eyes after your arm meets the cold sheet where your husband should be. You swing your legs off the bed, reach for your robe, and sigh tiredly. Bruce has been running himself ragged recently. You know why, there’s been a string of murders and timed escapes from Arkham, but he can’t solve everything in a night sitting in the Batcave.

He's been Batman more than Bruce the last week, and it’s time for you to step in and intervene. The Batcave is cold at night, and you pull your robe tighter around you as you walk toward Bruce’s back. He’s still in his cape and cowl, and when you sit beside him, he glances over quickly but pointedly avoids your eyes. You lay your hand on his arm, but he rolls his shoulder and opens the same file for the third time since you arrived. He’s getting obsessive and repetitive, and if you don’t stop him now, he’ll get impulsive and get himself or one of your kids hurt.

“Bruce are you okay?” you ask softly.

Bruce stands quickly, knocking his chair over and letting your hand fall back to your lap. “Do I look okay?” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

You raise your hands but don’t speak. Bruce turns away quickly and reaches for the computer controls. Slowly, you stand and place your fingers over his wrist. Bruce slows but doesn’t stop or look at you.

“Why are you wearing the cowl?” you ask.

“I have to stop him before he does it to someone else.”

“Joker?” you guess.

Bruce’s jaw tightens, and his forearm stiffens beneath your touch as his fingers curl into a fist.

“Bruce, you need a break. A real break, not just a walk around the manor while you think about it.”

“And if it happens while I’m on a break? Then I have even more blood on my hands!”

You shake your head and take his hands in yours. “It will be on mine, too, then. But do not take yourself away from me and the boys because of him. He’s done more than enough.”

“I have to finish. Batman has to end this.”

“And you will, but right now, you’re only hurting yourself and the people closest to you. Exactly what he wants.”

Bruce drops his head before he releases your hand to rip the cowl away from his face. You smile at him, but his eyes are on the floor.

“You need sleep,” you whisper.

Bruce nods and turns away from you to remove the rest of his equipment. Your love may be tough love sometimes, but it is what Bruce needs on days like today.

“Where are the boys?” you ask.

“Damian’s here, in bed. Dick and Jason are in Blüdhaven and Tim is on patrol.”

“Alone?”

“Helena’s with him,” Bruce assures you. “He’s safe.”

“Then leave Batman, the files, the lack of sleep, all of it down here, and let’s get you somewhere safe, too.”

Bruce allows you to lead him upstairs and into bed, but before you can ask if he feels better, his arm tightens around you as he drifts to sleep.

“Good morning,” Alfred greets.

“Good morning, Alfred,” you reply. “Bruce won’t be joining us just yet.”

“Thank goodness. If only his child felt the same urge for resting.”

“Damian?” you assume.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll bring him to breakfast. Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred nods and resumes cooking as you begin searching the manor for Damian. He tends to gravitate toward the room with the most swords, the display room on the third floor. As you enter with a knock, Damian keeps his eyes on the floor. A row of model cars is lined up before him, and the weapons on the wall are untouched.

“Hi, Dami,” you say.

“Mother,” he answers quickly.

“Are you practicing or playing?”

“There is no reason to continue practicing,” he answers.

You take a deep breath as you lean against the back of the chair. Damian has done this before, restricted himself from one of his hobbies, and it’s the hardest thing to bring him back from.

“Why not?” you inquire.

“I understand that there are more things I should know how to do, regardless of my interest in it.”

“Dami, you can do what you like. You don’t have to be a stereotype.”

“I am not a stereotype; I am simply expanding my skillset.”

“By…”

“Memorizing the make, model, and best year of popular cars.”

“I see,” you respond as you sit in the chair. “And these are in… year order?”

“Alphabetical model.”

You nod and look at the row of cars. “Is the blue one a Corvette? Because it should be on the other side of the Camaro.”

Damian freezes momentarily before he sinks to his knees and flips the car over. He sets it down and shoves it harshly, sending it into the wall as he presses his fists into the floor. You move to sit beside him but don’t touch him.

“Breathe,” you encourage. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t change them,” he mumbles. “It doesn’t work.”

“That’s okay. Put them however you want.”

“Will Baba allow me to patrol this evening?” he asks, changing the topic.

“That depends. He’s taking a break right now.”

“Then I should be out defending Gotham!”

Damian stands quickly and pulls a katana from the display case. He looks at it, then returns it.

“Dami, not right now,” you say as you stand.

“I don’t need Batman with me!” he argues.

“I’m not saying you do, Damian. What do you need here, in the manor?”

Damian shakes his head, and you remain in your place. Damian’s shoulders drop slowly, and he picks up the Corvette he shoved away to return it to its place. You smile when he looks up at you, and Damian stands closer to you as you tell him that Alfred is making breakfast.

“C’mon,” you urge him. “Let’s go eat and when Bruce wakes up, you can ask him about patrol.”

“Perhaps I could take a break as well,” he suggests.

“That would be nice,” you agree. “Maybe you’d like to join me for a movie night.”

“Movie night?!” Dick yells from the dining room. “I’m in!”

You and Damian shake your heads together as you walk in.

“Maybe it should be a family night,” Bruce interjects from the head of the table.

Damian sits beside you as you begin discussing which movie to watch. While Damian joins the discussion, Bruce meets your eyes from across the table and mouths, Thank you.

You shrug. You’re the mom of Gotham’s Bats, it’s your job to keep them in line and remind them to live.

[zyhkoo]

☆ well this is unexpected..

bat-fam x reader

the batfam asks you out on a date, though it didn’t turn out the way they expected..

a/n: i was thinking of doing batgirls x readers, i also improved my writing style a bit, anyways enjoy!! this was a req by anon but i accidentally deleted it :(

Bruce

Since he grew up eating with a silver spoon, he thought he wanted to try something simple. Fancy dinners, expensive places; he wanted to throw that away for a moment. It wasn’t bad to enjoy simple leisure was it?

His first date with you was in a park, nothing bad at all.

Well since he was Bruce Wayne privacy was practically impossible. People took pictures left to right and asked questions whenever they had the chance, people were insufferable. He just wanted to have his first date alone with you, he can’t help but scowl or brood whenever someone approaches the both of you

This was definitely a scene after all. The playboy billionaire on a romantic date with someone ordinary? This was going in the headlines. You only try to reassure him by squeezing his hand whenever he gets stressed. Though it helped a bit, no one could not leave you two alone.

Bruce debated if the two of you should just go back in the car.

“Bruce! Bruce!”

The reporters were like bloodhounds. There were cameras flashing, the lights were almost blinding. God he wanted to just leave. “Mr Wayne, is this another one of your many dates, or do you see something special in this woman?” A reporter spoke up, shoving a microphone in his face.

Your eyes widened at the bold question, who casually asks that?

Bruce frowned, didn’t like it when they referred to you like that, he found it as if they were trying to disrespect you. You’re his date, not another fling. He just wanted this to be over with, he was trying to think of anything that would make them leave. “She’s a special case.” He stated simply, that made the reporters go wild.

He held onto your hand. He wanted to scream, but even with his brooding nature he was surprisingly good at keeping a calm composure. He was tempted to just run, it was already humiliating enough and now it was just going to be plastered everywhere.

The reporters were getting louder and asking more questions, all wanting to know more about this strange woman who dared to catch the eye of Bruce Wayne.

He had enough. He took your hand and started walking towards his car. There was no point in staying here, it would all be over the tabloids the next day. He still had to deal with the aftermath of it, but at least he could try and have a semblance of a date.

He opened the car door for you, letting you in first. Once you were seated he got in himself. The reporters had decided to follow him, hoping to get any other pictures of the two of you. He slammed the door angrily shutting out their muffled voices. He wanted to let his frustration out, but he didn’t want to ruin what he had with you.

You looked at him and touched his hand “Are you okay?”

He shook his head. God he was so frustrated; this was far from what he was hoping for. He had wanted to have a simple date with you, not be hounded by reporters and questions.

“I was hoping that there would be some peace on our first date.”

You hummed as you stroked his hand with your thumb. “They don’t have boundaries do they?”

He looked at you with a frown. It was supposed to be a nice date. The two of you weren't supposed to be harassed by the press, yet he could still hear their muffled words and the sound of those cameras. He gritted his teeth, "I should have seen this coming."

“I’m going to get swarmed tomorrow.” He leaned back in his seat. No doubt your life was going to turn into an absolute hell since you were dating someone with his influence and status.

"Are you sure you want to be with me?" He asked softly. How could he ask you to live like this?

His heart was telling him that he wanted you. That it’d be fine and that you should just ignore what others say, but his brain was telling him that he was endangering you by having you be seen near him. He was a magnet for trouble, and now you’d be dragged into that side of his life.

“Bruce, I’m sure.” You leaned in closer. “If being with you means dealing with the press, paparazzi, and rumors? I’m up for the challenge.” You smiled at him. “I’m not going to back down so easily.”

“How about this, why don’t we go to my apartment?” you let go of his hand.

As the two of you arrived at your apartment, you took the roses he gave you and spread the petals around the floor. He took a lighter, lighting the candles around your apartment. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the candles.

It was a nice and soothing scent, calming his nerves. The two of you started to make spaghetti. It wasn’t as fancy as the meals he was accustomed to but he didn’t mind. Bruce was just happy to be spending time and cooking with you.

As you two finished cooking, he took some forks and plates taking them to the living room so you and he could have some dinner.

“I have wine.” you walked towards the table “It’s about time that I use this thing.” He chuckled softly. He took the bottle and started to pour some wine for the two of you.

After the two of you finished your dinner, he brought the plates to the sink. He walked back to you and took your hand and pulled you to your feet gently. “May I have this dance?” He asked, already pulling you into a slow waltz.

You chuckled, “You already are.” He leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow and gentle, his hands finding their way to your waist and pulling you closer.

Eventually he pulled away, a small smile on his lips. "I guess I am." he said softly.

Dick

For your first date with Dick, he wanted to go out. He wanted it to be as romantic as possible. He asked you for valentines (or christmas whatever comes to your imagination) in which of course you accept.

As the two of you entered the restaurant, the waiter informed Dick that the place was full. Okay there was always a plan B! The art museum? Closed. The mall? Too many people. The park? Closed due to cleaning. Dick started to get frustrated, sunset was almost near and his date with you hadn't started yet.

Dick was just about to give up. He took your hand and gave it a light squeeze, a sympathetic look etched on his face. "I'm sorry. I guess today isn't the best day for us, huh?"

You shook your head “You don’t need to apologize, Dick. It’s not your fault.”

“I know," he whispers, “but I want our date night to be perfect. To be better than your former ones. To be better than any other one that you’ve had. You deserve it.” He gives you a light kiss on the cheek, his breath feeling warm on your skin. "Let's go for a walk."

The night air is cool in Blüdhaven. There are few people out on the streets as it's late, the two of you are alone. The moon shines brilliantly, its light catching Dick's bright blue eyes. The two of you start down the sidewalk.

You then look up at the sky, then an idea pops in your head. “I know what we’ll do.” you smiled. "Yeah?" He laughs, "What's your bright idea?" He bumps his shoulder into yours playfully, his hand squeezing yours.

You hummed, looking back at the sky “I’d say, we go up to a rooftop and watch the stars.” Dick smiles at that, his eyes gleaming at the idea. You could see his mind racing with thoughts. "Good idea. I know of the perfect spot."

The two of you began to walk again, this time, Dick taking the lead. He guided you through the various twists and turns of the downtown of Blüdhaven.

After some light parkour, the two of you were climbing up a fire escape and onto the rooftop of a building. The view of the city was impressive. The moon shone beautifully above the city, the stars scattered all across the night sky. It was a pretty view you had to admit, and you were glad the two of you could see it.

Dick stood beside you, his eyes scanning the stars and trying to find the planets. He glanced at you a moment later, and he said, “I'm glad I get to share moments like this with you.”

You softly smiled at him then leaned on his shoulder. You looked up the stars, admiring each constellation. “Do you want me to tell you about the stars?” He gave you a nod, "Absolutely. Please do."

And so you began to talk about the stars. You told him about the constellations and planets, Dick listened to each word as if they were gospel. The two of you sat there for a while, your head on his shoulder as you stargazed. The night was peaceful, and Dick couldn't have asked for a better date.

You leaned on him, enjoying the warmth he was giving you. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, and it felt so nice and comforting.

He pointed out at the sky, "That star there, right next to the moon, do you see it?"

You looked out to where he was pointing and nodded "That's Sirius, the brightest star in the sky."

"Do you know why Sirius is so bright?" he asked softly.

You hummed "Well.. the ancient Greeks said it was a constellation of the dog. They believed that it was the guardian of the afterlife, and the protector of sailors."

He looked at you, his eyes shining like the stars in the sky. "Hmm, to me, it reminds me of you. Bright as the sun, and you're the light in my dark life."

You blushed at his words, your heart doing a little dance in your chest. "Dick," you scoffed, "That is the corniest thing I’ve heard you say.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple, "It's all true though."

Jason

Jason had zero experience in the romance department. When he met you, he was absolutely whipped. The only thing he had was his Pride and Prejudice book and moral support from his family.

Jason had read the book so many times he had practically memorized it. He tried to emulate Mr. Darcy's aloof attitude, but he simply didn't have the same charm. He felt like a fool when he tried to act like a dashing gentleman. But there was one thing he knew. If Mr. Darcy could make a fool of himself to woo Elizabeth, he could do the same for you. He was willing to risk everything to be with you, to win your heart.

Honestly, he wanted his family out of this. But he was so miserable that they just had to step in. Dick and Steph helped fixing his appearance while Tim helped him with planning his date. Barbara thought this was ridiculous, be yourself she says.

Jason was absolutely terrified. Not about going on the date, he had no doubt about that. He was scared of making a fool in front of you. That you, a person so beautiful, so lovely, would ever think of him as anything less than he was.

When he asked you out, he was very surprised to hear you say yes.

He thought of several date ideas, most were pretty simple. Go for dinner, hit a bar. But none of it seemed good enough. He wanted to do something special, something that would make you never forget that day. In the end, he decided to go to the seaside.

In all honesty, it wasn’t really his thing. Jason would rather stay somewhere indoors, but he wanted you to be happy.

He bought you flowers, chocolate and a plush with your favorite animal. You weren’t expecting this from him obviously, he definitely wasn’t the type to give you these. Nevertheless, you accepted them. Jason wanted this date to go perfectly. Not only for your sake, but for his. He knew that if he messed it up, he'd never be able to recover from it.

But oh no.. The clouds started to go dark and droplets immediately fell from the sky. So now he was hiding under a gazebo with you. Not the perfect date he pictured.

He cursed under his breath. It wasn't just raining, but thunder, lightning, and strong winds too. It wasn't looking good. He looked up at the sky, trying to gauge if it was just a passing storm or if the forecast was really that bad.

"Well, this is great," he muttered sarcastically, trying to conceal his frustration. "I'm no meteorologist, but this looks like a long one."

“Hey.” your hands trail to his “It’s alright, it was very sweet for you to ask me out you know?” you smiled reassuringly.

He looked at you, his face softening at your words. Despite the weather, it was still a beautiful day in his view. Being with you was the real reward here, not the weather.

"I know, I just...wanted this to be perfect," he admitted with a shrug. "But you know what? This is pretty perfect, anyway. I get to spend time with you, which is what really matters, and we're both dry too."

He looked up at the ceiling of the gazebo, as if to silently criticize the weather itself for ruining his perfect day. He then turned his gaze back to you, his eyes softening.

“Let's wait it out,” he suggested. “We could make this work.”

The rain only got worse as time went by. The wind was becoming increasingly stronger, and the thunder was so loud that it was difficult to hear one another over the noise. Jason was growing frustrated - not with the storm, but with the fact that it was ruining his date. He had prepared for everything, but never in his wildest nightmare he could have imagined it would be like this.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, glaring up at the sky. “I spent so much time coming up with this perfect day and now it's all ruined.”

You couldn't help but laugh at how agitated he was becoming. “Come on, Jason, lighten up,” you said, grinning at him. “I'm having a great time.”

He gave you a confused look, not sure whether you were teasing him or not. “Seriously? This is what you call a great time?” he asked, gesturing to the storm around them.

“It could be worse,” you countered, shrugging. “Think about it - we can hang out all day without anyone bothering us. Plus, there’s something romantic about rain.” Jason still didn't seem convinced. “Rain isn't romantic,” he grumbled, frowning at you.

You sighed “Oh, you.” standing up from the gazebo, you looked down at his scowl “Do you want to dance with me?” He looked up at you, confused. “In this weather? You've got to be kidding me,” he replied. “I don't want to get wet.” He didn't feel up to making any innuendos with you right now, even if it was on his mind.

You only smiled at him “It’ll be fun, dancing in the rain is romantic I assure you.” you walked in the heavy rain “See, fun! Come join me.” He watched as you danced in the heavy downpour, the rain soaking your clothes and leaving you drenched.

“Alright then,” he said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. He stood up and walked over to you, letting the rain fall on him as well.

You took his hands in yours and started swaying with him to the tempo of the rain. Despite his initial reluctance, he soon began enjoying the moment. The rain added a certain charm to the dance, making it an intimate and memorable experience for the both of you.

“You were right,” he said, smiling at you. “This is actually kinda fun.”

He looked up at the sky, feeling the rain falling on his face. He never would have thought that a simple date could turn out so well, despite the bad weather. He felt more relaxed and more comfortable with you than he had ever felt with anyone else before.

He twirled you around, and you laughed as the rain continued to fall around you. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you, dancing together in the pouring rain.

You were both soaked, but you didn't seem to care. You were a good dancer, Jason thought as you both moved in rhythm to the rain. The storm had brought out a side of him that he hadn't known was even there. He smiled as you twirled, feeling more alive than he had in months. It was like nothing else mattered except for this moment with you.

As he held you close, he realized that even in the worst of situations, he could always find a way to enjoy life. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew that as long as you were by his side.

Tim

Tim’s first date with you was in a mall. He wanted to go to the arcade with you and have some fun. As he prepares for you, he will often have high confidence. But when he approaches you, he often fiddles with his hands or nervously looks in another direction.

Tim has trouble decision making as well, should he buy you cupcakes or ice cream? Buy you clothes or are you just fine without shopping? He doesn’t know. The arcade was at the top floor of the building, he started to do the math in his head.

‘If we used an escalator, it’d be slower and the mall was a bit crowded today but walking around the mall could be good exercises and walking helps think a lot. Oh, but what if they don’t like long distances? We can always use those electronic stroller things… no it won’t work. The elevator would be the fastest way but it could be awkward- oh, forget it let’s just use the elevator!’

The elevator was fine, until suddenly it stopped. The lights went out. And it was now dark inside. The elevator was stuck between two levels. When Tim pressed the buttons, they didn't seem to work at all. You tried as well but no matter what the elevator won't budge.

Oh great.

Tim tried calling for help on his phone, but there's no service. At all. "We should’ve used the escalator.." Tim complains to himself. He sighed in frustration and then turned to look at you. "This was an awful first date, I’m sorry.” Tim groans as he sits on the floor.

“It’s fine,” You respond, smiling. The elevator was dark, but it wasn’t too dark. You sat beside him, trying to stay warm. You both remained close in the silence of the elevator.

You held his hand and looked at him “You don’t need to overthink too much Tim, it’s just me.” you whispered. Tim let out a soft sigh of relief, intertwining his fingers with yours. He gently squeezed your hand, offering some silent reassurance. "You're right. I just... I don't want to mess this up, you know? I really like you, and this date means a lot." He gazed into your eyes.

“I was hoping to impress you with this. But instead I just managed to get us stuck in an elevator. Now that's real skill." Tim let out a chuckle, trying to ease the tension with a bit of humor. He leaned back, resting his head against the elevator wall.

"So, I guess we have some time to kill now. Anything you want to talk about? Got any deep, philosophical questions on your mind? Maybe I can impress you with my brilliant intellect and detective skills." Tim grinned playfully. You chuckled at his sudden change of mood “Can I get a kiss detective?”

Tim's heart skipped a beat at your request, and a hint of a rosy blush crept across his cheeks. Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned in closer to you. It was in that perfect moment that the lights suddenly flickered back on, and the elevator began to move again. "Wow," Tim scoffed, “Talk about perfect timing.” he scowls.

You laughed as you quickly stole a kiss “There, is that better?”

Tim's expression melted into a warm smile as you stole a kiss. A subtle blush lingered on his cheeks. "Much better," he replied, his voice a soft murmur. The elevator hummed as it resumed its ascent, bringing you both back into the world above.

[brie-annwyl]

Fic idea things <3

Jason coming back to get revenge and seeing Bruce at his grave, talking to his headstone saying things like “you have a wonderful new brother, his name is Tim. I think you would’ve loved him.” And “Never tell Dick, but you were and probably always will be my favourite, Jay.” And Jason realizes oh fuck, I’m not ready for this emotional moment and I don’t even want revenge anymore. So he just continues to be Red Hood and sticks to crime alley until the Bats (Bruce, Tim, Dick, etc) get kidnapped and he’s like, oh fuck, now I HAVE to deal with this emotional bs.

Bruce just immediately hugging Jason after he finds out his identity. Even if it’s dangerous for him to do so (Jason pointing a gun at him).

Jason’s reason for wanting to kill the Joker having nothing to do with revenge, the reality of the situation is Jason has borderline debilitating insomnia because he’s so terrified he’ll wake up back in that warehouse or the Joker will find him whilst he’s asleep.

Bruce originally not wanting Tim as his new Robin because he reminded him so much of Jason. To the point where he caught himself almost calling him Jason on multiple occasions. That’s why it took so long for them to be close.

Dick accidentally calling Tim - Jason after Jason beats the shit out of him.

Jason and Tim knowing each other before Jason dies. Jason knew Tim’s parents weren’t caring for him properly and wanted Bruce to adopt him but he didn’t get the chance to tell Bruce about Tim when he was alive.

Jason getting dosed in fear toxin and getting hallucinations of Willis whilst the other bats are around.

Bruce getting dosed in fear toxin and hallucinates burying Jason again.

Jason is always freezing bc of the whole dying thing and needs other people to keep warm, but Jason’s a stubborn bitch and it’s the middle of winter.

[robintherobiner]

@emperorsfoot made me come up with a really funny idea. (sorry about the tag i can get rid of it if you want :3 )

AU where Tim sees Bruce not dealing with his grief very well after losing Jason, so he googles ways to calm down, and instead of heading to the manor and telling Bruce he needs a Robin, Tim just hands him a joint.

"You to chill the fuck out, Bruce. Batman is supposed to be Gothams protector, you can't do that if you're beating up criminals to the point of permanent injuries for an offence as little as stealing food. So, take a chill pill. Or, actually. i didn't get you any pills but i can if you want-"

Boom. Instead of gaining another Robin, Batman gains a dealer, who doesn't accept cash, but instead counts 'nights without brutal beatings' as payment.

Within three months time, Tim is fully leaning into the act and uses 90's movies as his point of reference for how drug dealers should look, sound, and act. Goodbye Bristol Boy, meet T-Dawg.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Platonic Yan! Batboys x Batsis darling

A/N: I want to talk about the concept of batsis having a s/o or a crush and how the family would react to that. I'm sure this concept might've been done but if i may speak-

Warnings: Obsession, relationship sabotage, overbearing family dynamics

Requests: always open.

Masterlist

Dick Grayson

I think he's kind of complex about this issue. I don't think !yan Dick would have a problem with you dating in itself. Like there is so many siblings and no way to keep all of these hormonal teen and young adults at bay. He's been there, he gets it.

But there's some conditions. You have to have a good relationship with dick, first. It you are close, that means you tell him...everything. He can easily monitor you and the progression of things. You'll be trusted to tell him is something goes wrong and he can step in. You won't mind Dick tagging along or being generally invasive. You won't forget about him or the family, he knows that you'll drop everything and come running. His grip is already secured firmly around you and your mind so theres no reason to worry. Have fun, be safe.

If you're anything like my previous posts where batsis is not close with dick in the slightest, he'd sabotage that relationship. He's not having it at all. Your dating is a threat to the family. You already have an apprehension of him, so anyone can swoop in and take his sis away. He doesn't want that. He doesn't trust your judgement or decision making skills enough. Dick knows that if someone hurt you or was dangerous, you'd hid it from him. You refuse to give Dick any sort of access to your life so therefore dating is a no. Sorry baby bat, it's for your own good!

But maybe i'm wrong. Maybe Dick doesn't want any of his siblings dating..especially his batsis. I've said before that Dick has given up his previous relationships among other things for the family. His siblings are his most important priority and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they're properly provided for. What if he expects the same. He's jealous over the fact you all get to go out and date and he cannot because he's stuck playing dad? What if he's jealous that you're spending all your time with someone else? You don't have time for your older brother anymore

He's hurt when you embarrassingly hide your partner from him. You're critiquing everything he does and tells him not to call you by the nicknames he gave you. Yan! Dick hates being discarded. And maybe, none of this happened? Maybe you gladly show off your brother to your partner? Maybe just the thought of you one day getting married and leaving him fills his mind. He overthinks about being left here alone like Bruce was...he doesn't want that. He cannot have that. You cannot date for your own good...for his own good

Jason Todd

I don't think he'll ever vocalize his true feelings. and reluctantly allows it. Jason is rather against you dating, but because he doesn't trust anyone outside of the family. Plus he doesn't like that he gets to see you way less now.

Jason would be the brother that'd be cleaning his guns while you're introducing you partner to him. His tone is sharp and he doesn't embrace them once. He wants them to know there is someone in your life that'll kill for you if they hurt you.

I think if Jason sensed the person you were dating wasn't any good, he'd handle it privately. Your partner ghosts you for three days then sends a "i don't want to see you ever again." text. Weird. Everything was going great. Luckily your brother Jason just got back from his three day trip to comfort you.

If the partner is good but he doesn't really get any time with you, i think he's get a little out of character. Suddenly he's a lot more clingy to you when you're there. He's just following you around the entire house and wanting to spend every second with you. If it gets bad enough he will have to intervene with his other siblings. He misses you. This whole dating things sucks, who needs them when you have a perfect family. They're all you need.

Damien Wayne

He doesn't like change. At. All. This family is perfect as it is.

So don't mess it up by changing the natural order of things. This partner of yours is a nuisance. An incompetent, brain dead loser who is dragging you down with them. You don't need them. Damien is rather offended that you felt like you even needed something more outside of the family. What does this prick have that they don't?

He's weary of the fact that this person wanted to date you. Not that you're not enough but you're a Wayne now. People always wants something, if not money, its something else. You're foolish for this.

On a deeper level, Damien feels like he's loosing a parent. It's clear that your partner doesn't like your younger brother or even want him around. He misses you driving him around, reading together and sneaking out. You've never taken his often impolite banter to heart, you loved him as he was. He felt drawn to you. You were like a mother figure to him..don't do this. He;s sad and thinks you don't love him anymore.

Tim Drake

Maybe the least closest to you. You probably think he doesn't even like you but it's not true. He's just an observer more than a hands on type of person. He's just as yandere as the others, he cares. The second he got the name of your partner, he spends all day searching up dirt on them. He has a file of blackmail sitting pretty on his hard drive in case that person hurts you.

He's not confrontational like the rest. He's a bit too socially awkward for that but if he seriously felt you were in danger, he'd stop you. I think he'd mainly plot with the others to sabotage the relationship.

Like Damien, he doesn't understand why you need someone so badly. The family is more that fulfilling to him so why not for you? Time misses the little things like when you'd bring him food to his desk, or usher him to take a break from his computer. He misses your laughter and interactions with the rest of the family. He doesn't feel safe with you being out so much. The world is a dangerous place, it's safer here, where everyone can protect you. They all love you, and their love combined is far stronger than your partners.

[ellesthots]

punished - kinktober 2024

ONESHOT!

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: after a disappointing night as Batman, Bruce wants you to make him suffer [not related to Fateful]

pairing: bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, orgasm denial, breath play

words: 2.3k

a/n: hi lovelies!! a little treat for the month of October 🎃 based on the 2023 kinktober prompt list (day 14 - orgasm denial), since they didn’t release an official one this year <3 comments, reblogs, etc SO appreciated 💭

It was your favorite position to have him in, and an opportunity that didn’t come often.

Sometimes, after an especially frustrating night crimefighting—say, the muggers got away, the clues led nowhere, or Batman came too late—he’d arrive back home with that look in his eye. A frustrated, ruminating expression that crowded even the massive rooms at Wayne Manor. A demeanor that screamed ‘I need to be punished’.

It floored you the first time he said as much, a few months ago. When he’d trudged upstairs with his eye makeup still on, the black mess smeared up into his browbone and blotchy in the hollow of his undereyes. The fire in his gaze nearly had you running to the bedroom, chasing fantasies of him fucking you into oblivion, blowing off steam. The promise of his bruising touch was the only thing keeping you satisfied on his long nights away.

But that night was different. The closer he came, the more the fire melted into something gentler, more vulnerable. Still, his jaw was tight, twitching in the way exclusive to angry curses and frustrated sighs. His voice was low and hoarse in your ear, the prick of his stubble grazing the crook of your neck. He exhaled a single, quivering breath before speaking. “Punish me.”

You felt faint. Bruce rarely relinquished control in the bedroom, save times he could tell how desperate you were to be on top. Before he walked toward his room, he caught your eye, a careful gauge of your comfort. As shocking as it was to hear it from his mouth, the big bad Batman, you would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your pulse race. You nodded, and he disappeared into the dark hallway behind you.

Alone in the hallway, a dozen lewd thoughts circled you. Your limbs tingled with anticipation, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of options. You’d asked him to punish you before, so this was far from unknown territory… you closed your eyes and imagined which sensations he’d allowed you that you wanted to return.

Choking him would be especially pleasing, and… your mouth curled into a grin and you suppressed a laugh. Of course. He wouldn’t think it was anything until he was already in too deep, a shock to his system, leaving him reeling… the anxiety melted away to a selfish excitement, waiting for the pinch in his eyes, how his face might look, his body tense and wanting, so close yet so impossibly far… fuck.

Your feet were light across the cool manor floor. Alfred was nowhere to be seen, and you were grateful for it. Too many times you’d been concerned he might overhear, but tonight that didn’t seem to be the case. Bruce wanted to be punished, wanted to suffer a bit. It wouldn’t be a feat silently won.

The dynamic had already been switched, entering to him sat on the edge of the bed, his spandex long sleeve he wore on every patrol in a pile by his nightstand. You could see in his eyes that he didn’t know what to expect, which was invigorating. He looked almost meek.

As you approached him, you nearly second-guessed it. It would be punishing for you too, not seeing, hearing, feeling his climax. But holy shit was it exhilarating to be the one standing over him, watching as his eyes deepened their focus on yours, fingers moving to undo his button. Was this the power and excitement he felt each time with you, as you tugged down your satin nightgown, unclasped your lace bra?

Your eyes caught on the slightest tremble in his hands while pulling down the zipper. You put your hand over his, and he halted on contact. You pulled yourself closer and dragged your lips from his jaw to his collarbone. His body was worn, muscles tired. It must’ve been a rough night. Your free hand caressed his back, tracing gentle, reassuring circles between his shoulderblades. “Remember your safe word?”

Bruce was putty in your hands, nothing more than a breathy, needy whisper. “Yes.”

Having said the magic words, you placed your hand around his neck, pushing him flush on his back against the mattress. You watched his eyes flash as you tightened your grip, swallowing like his mouth had gone dry. You placed a hand to his sternum as you climbed on top, where you felt his pulse thunder beneath your palm. You slowly dragged your fingertips along his sweat-soaked skin toward the waistband of his boxers.

His breathing hitched, feeling the movement in his throat as you slipped one, then two fingers underneath the elastic. A heady, potent feeling of intoxication swept you, having him completely at your mercy. His face bloomed pink under the pressure of your hand, his eyes a steady pulse of blue, singularly focused as a man starved.

“Were you bad tonight?” Your voice was sweet like honey. He nodded as much as he could within your vice grip, and his lashes fluttered, as if ashamed to admit it. The way the moonlight illuminated the curve of his biceps, caressed the snags of violence across his skin, you felt dizzy. His voice held its own echo, like he’d been hollowed out. “Very.”

Oh how you longed to kiss those lips… “Mmm, can’t have that.” You pulled your hand out from his boxers, as if you had changed your mind about touching him. Your fingers traipsed along the sides of his torso, causing him to shudder. The sensation brought sparks to your fingertips. His eyes searched your face, his desire increasingly evident, desperate to be taken care of. Your fingers caught on the subtle slopes and valleys of his abdomen, skimming the raised scars on his chest, moving agonizingly slower until they reached your mouth.

Bruce’s pupils dilated as he watched you throat your fingers, spit strings falling down your chin as you pulled them away. He moaned as your slick fingers found the base of his cock. He was already hard. Very hard. You squeezed your fingers firmer round his throat with each stroke, drawing strangled moans out of him that only made you press harder, move faster. His head dug into the pillow in glorious agony, the tension in his throat heightening each slip of your hand. You felt every reverberation of his moans within your palm. Every inhale, every exhale. God, it was so fucking hot… you pressed your knees together on the bed, feeling your pussy start to throb.

“Fuck, mmph,” his hands moved up to grip the edge of his pillow, his knuckles going white. He was becoming lost in it, obvious by the shivering moans gasping out of him, the way his hips drove up to match the rhythm of your hand. He was wound up, messy. His hair splayed in dark clumps across his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut, brows furrowing. Seeing him like this, so enraptured in your touch, it could’ve overwhelmed you if you weren’t so stubborn.

But he kept moaning, and his chest kept heaving, and the slip of his dick in your hand was mind-numbingly torturous… when you knew he could be inside you, and the only thing standing between you and his thick, long… you pumped harder, biting the inside of your cheek, hyperfocusing on his mouth like it wasn’t the precise thing making it worse. You noticed your hips subtly moving in concert with his, wanting to lean closer and fucking feel him. Your eyes trailed to his fingers curling around the linen pillowcase, pinching the folds, metabolizing what his moans failed to, and it broke the last thread.

You slowed down, his eyes snapping open at the shift, chest heaving. His pupils were blown, and goddammit, you felt like you could burst. You bunched up your shirt to get it out of the way and straddled him, shoving your thong to the side. If he wasn’t getting release tonight, you’d find it. Sinking onto him was otherworldly, his dick achingly hard, your cunt already puffy and soaked like you’d been at this for hours, welcoming him readily. Your grip slipped on his neck as you rode him, your vision blurring between the wet, slapping sounds of him driving into you, and the groans mingling in the space between your mouths.

He married his hands to your hips to pull you down harder, and it took every ounce of self-control to refuse him. Usually you savored the grip of his fingers, he knew it made you weak, but you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. In a movement that read to your body as blasphemy, as sin, you slammed forward, shoving your hand back around his throat. His arms slacked at his sides as you chastised him. “Manners, baby… only me.”

Your body flattened against him and you left sloppy kisses along his jugular, bathing in the sensation of him hitting your g-spot over, and over… your hands pawed at his jaw, shrieking as you felt tension coil in your stomach, your heart quickening to a fever pitch. Small trails of black fell down his cheeks, the warmth of your colliding bodies running his eye paint.

You knew him well, well enough to know he was lost in it, and that he knew you were there, too. He’d long abandoned the proposition of punishment, relishing in the feeling of your hot, cushioned walls enveloping him, drowning in the symphony of your moans. You could tell he needed this, the way his hips chased yours, slamming into you with increasing abandon. You were almost there, but he was too… if you finished, he would. God, now you really wanted to punish him.

In a swift motion, you slunk between his legs, his dick throbbing against your thigh as it slid completely out of you. A whine cracked the edge of his moan. He propped up on his elbows, panting, watching as you moved both hands to his shaft. By this point his cock was aching, possibly the hardest it’d ever felt. Every time your fingers glided over his tip you’d catch some of his arousal, mingling it with your own with each push, pull.

You had to get this over with now, or you were going to cave. You whispered your lips along his shaft, his hips jerking involuntarily with every gentle swirl of your tongue along the rim. Sweat and adrenaline closed your lips around his head, your hands working the base.

“Baby,” he whimpered, his head falling back. His shoulders relaxed into the feeling, his elbows slipping against his sheets. His lashes were fluttering, his abs tightening, his mouth parting a little, more, a lot… your body became tight with need, borrowing some of the anguish you were sure he’d be feeling soon.

You removed it from your mouth with a subtle pop, savoring the taste of him as you licked your lips. “Look how much of a mess you are.”

His brows knit together as your hands wrung the length of him, his breathing becoming increasingly labored. He was so pretty like this, writhing underneath you. So responsive…

The moans you were pulling out of him almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do. Almost.

A high-pitched groan paired with the twitch of his dick signified the building of his climax. He had no fucking idea, but he’d asked for it. Your brow cocked and he nodded, the edges of his breaths ragged and frayed. “I’m so,”

“Close?”

He nodded again, his inhales shallow and stilted as you increased your fervor, pumping him straight to the edge. His gasps could’ve split the windows, pitchy whines expelling from his chest. “Yes, yes,”

“So close, hmm?” You slowed down just so, barely, imperceptible to someone as thrown as he was. “So fucking close,”

“Just like that, oh, fuck, fuck,” His movements drew erratic, his hips fucking himself into your hand, sweat pouring down his face. You bit back a giggle, watching his body begin to surrender, wishing you could bottle this moment in time. The instant you felt his body prep a shudder, you shot back, ceasing all contact.

He choked on a strangled moan, his eyes flashing wide in shock, his mouth flying open. On your knees at the foot of his bed, you watched his body stretch toward release, unable to grasp it. He slowly attempted to get his bearings, his body heaving with unspent pleasure. You blushed as you witnessed his cock throb in vain—right there, but not quite.

You smirked at him as you ran your hands up his calves, his body vibrating. He blinked hard, whiplash ravaging his system. Your voice was a low, teasing purr. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

His exhausted eyes held the hint of a glare, his teeth gritting hard as he accepted the loss. His heart jammed against his ribs, screaming in protest. He fell back against the sweat-soaked pillow, bringing his hands up to rub his face, hiding the bitter heat flushing his cheeks. “Christ,”

You stood, the bed creaking softly beneath you. You twirled your shirt off and tossed it by the door of his bath, all but skipping over to it. “I’d help you clean yourself up, but…” When you looked back, his dick was softer, his breathing starting to regulate. His eyes flicked over to you, his breath deepening, as if overwhelmed by the sight of you.

He hauled a sigh from the depth of his lungs, agonizingly situating upright. He steadied his breathing for a few beats, stomach coiled tight, body heavy. Jesus fucking Christ. As wholly, entirely frustrated as he was, he was undeniably impressed; his tense, electrified body the ultimate testament, unable to block a boyish grin from revealing itself to you. “Stop celebrating.”

You hummed your way to his shower, choreographing the shape of your hands slammed against the fogged glass. “Careful what you wish for.”