#catwoman imagine

[apocalypse-shuffle]

GOTHAM CITY SIRENS (generalized canon)

—

"Harley-napping" (Harley Quinn × Poison Ivy x Selina Kyle × Fem!Reader)

I Stealing Harley from the Squad and then having a fun night out.

| SFW, mature language, action, criminal acts (duh), -platonic!reader/though there's hints of something more or a past relationship with Cat

I You're a thief, demolitions expert, and have EOD training in this one. Pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Arkham City video game)

| +words

| part: two of two (part one)

“C’mon Croc, we’re all friends here.”

You walk away from your opponent, skidding around the hulking mass in front of you whenever he gets too close. God, you hated Killer Croc.

He growls.

“I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight, girl, and neither is Waller.”

You tip your head back and laugh.

“Is that so, buddy?” You step onto the raised edge of the embassy building the Squad had been deployed in. Was this ugly motherfucker serious?

You watch Killer Croc’s eyes narrow as he takes a step forward with yet another growl. You shake your head, shaking off the way the sound sends shockwaves into the air, and tutt in disagreement.

“Uh uh. If you want me you’ll have to work for it.” You smirk, spreading your arms wide, “Catch me if you can.”

You wave a little and then tip off the ledge of the building. Falling.

As the wind from your descent whips around you wildly, you whoop loudly. Tilting your upper body upwards you go to grasp at the grappling gun attached to your hip and fire—

You’re jerked roughly to a stop, breath punching out of you, equilibrium disrupted, and stomach the wrong side of queasy.

The jolt in your descent makes you give a breathy yell in surprise and the comparatively mild knock of your head on the side of the building shocks you into silence.

‘The fuck?’ Your mind supplies and you groan.

It takes you a while, your brain taking a few moments to wrap around your new position and the distinct lack of anything in your hand, before you force your head up. Slitted eyes meet squinted brown and your gut clenches.

Copperhead. What kind of fucking circus was Waller running here?

“You have,” you close your eyes and gasp, “Got to be kidding.”

Selina Them were so making this night up to you later.

“What fun is there in jokes when I could be killing you instead?” His tail tightens around your middle from where he’s dangling you in the air, hanging halfway outside an upper floor window himself, and you wheeze. “This spoil is ours.”

The hissed sentence makes you want to tense up but - even lightheaded - your training kicks in and dictates you do the opposite. Relaxing proves to be the correct move too because Copperhead gives an incredibly startled look at the drop in your weight. Thankfully the lapse is immediately exploited by one of the vines resting on the side of the building coming to life and striking out to wrap around his throat.

He’s too shocked to coil back around you but that also means that when his tail goes lax you drop from it.

And here you were without your grappling gun. You can even see where it is, gun dangling from the line and hook stuck in the stone structure of the building.

Two - maybe three - seconds of stomach dropping airtime is what you’re bestowed with before you land into something soft and vaguely organic smelling. Your breath hasn’t even fully caught up with you when the thing closes around you and you’re being lowered to the ground at a much more respectable pace.

It’s not till you touch gravel and the thing unfurls that you fully register what it is—a flower.

“Okay,” you gasp, nodding to yourself. A humongous flower rescuing you from impending death was by far not the weirdest thing you’d seen in Gotham - and to be expected considering current company.

Tenderly brushing your hands over the petal closest in gratitude and then pushing yourself out of the vibrant flower takes more effort than it should. Having to repeatedly remind yourself to take deep breaths dulls the hell outta your reaction time it would seem.

Your breath stutters, body harshly trying to regulate itself, but you wave off the green hand being held out to you. When Ivy even got so close you’ve no idea.

When your knees buckle Ivy disregards the dismissal entirely, not even hesitating for a second before grabbing you. Steady hands wrap around your middle, pulling you closer to her, and your own hands snap up to grasp at her forearms.

Ivy clicks her tongue at you. She smells just as organic as the flower did and that helps ground you at least.

“I thought I made it expressly clear I needed you alive,” she hisses softly but her eyes are sliding over you in fits and there’s a hint at something not too reproachful in them.

You humph but negate to curse her out the way you want. Or at least the way some people seem to think you will going off of the half cringes taking over the faces of the other two women behind Ivy.

You roll your eyes.

“I am a human and you put me on distract-the-animal-mutate-s duty. I don’t know what you expected,” you swallow, “but thanks…”

Ivy shrugs then points over her shoulder at an interestingly disheveled Harley. When she lets go of you she pushes you toward the blonde without another word.

Said woman smiles wide and waves at you, cringe forgotten for now, but covered head to toe by what might be soot with her outfit askew and hair sticking up in all types of directions.

“Please tell me something hasn’t already exploded.”

“Oh no!” Harley scoffs at your concern as she walks to you, bat swinging lowly in her dropped hand. She does gesticulate with it languidly, indicating a side of the embassy you’d managed to miss until now that’s definitely seen better days. “The building’s structure just wasn’t worth shit. Frosty barely flicked it before it started crumbling over our heads. Me and Cat slipped out just fine though, don’t worry!”

“Uh huh,” you grunt offhandedly, hands already rifling through your pack for the supplies.

You weren’t a surgeon but for your friend you could make this work. Would have to make this work because if you don’t pull this off you’re not entirely certain Ivy won’t kill you, fondness for you be damned.

Harley turns for you without you having to ask and you set to work right away; consulting the schematics Selina had managed to steal and your own scattered knowledge of anatomy to extract both of the bombs deep in the base of her neck and the tracker embedded in her bicep.

It’s as you’re working on the second bomb that Harley begins to fidget. Starting to rock in place for a second before remembering what’s happening, or moving to get a crink out of her neck but stopping herself half way.

At one point she rocks back enough that your retrieval tool clinks against the pill sized bomb and you tense, teeth grinding together. The localized EMP you were using to slow the bombs tampering fail safe wasn’t foolproof, it would still go off if you messed with it too fast, but you couldn’t block the transmitter entirely cause that’d definitely tip off Waller and she’d detonate the bombs in a heartbeat.

When nothing aside from your heart dropping into your spleen occurs you breathe out a small sigh.

Harley doesn’t see the panic flash across your face but she does see how Ivy reacts to it. If looks could kill you’d be way past the seventh gate of hell by now.

Harley’s voice cuts through the tension.

“What’s going on?”

“Just…hold still so I can cut the damn bomb out, Harls.”

“Sorry sorry,” she shrugs the smallest bit. “I’m getting antsy is all.”

“Well stop it,” you murmur.

Your tweezers finally get a decent grasp of the implant and you extract it carefully. It comes out even smoother than the last and you hand the bomb to a thickly structured plant that Ivy has walk a good distance away from you all.

Collectively all of your abdomens unclench and every one of you starts moving lighter. The tracker is extracted soon after and you plop it into Harley’s hand, happy to be rid of the stressor.

Harley cheers, throwing the tracker toward the vicinity of Cooperhead’s limp body. She runs up to Ivy right after that, jumps into the taller’s embrace and they share a passionate kiss.

You raise your brows, turning away. Selina and you both exchange a glance and when she walks over to give you your own hug you reciprocate the gesture.

“Thanks for helping out,” she says into the side of your head. You nod into her shoulder before pulling apart. You both squeeze each other's hands, her lighter thumbs rubbing lightly over your knuckles.

“Humph,” you duck your head at the way she meets your eyes and let go of her to go examine the stagnant bombs.

Selina leaves you to stare at them.

They’re so …innocent looking when they’re just chilling in the middle of one of Ivy’s oversized plants. You’d never expect they’d be able to take out two people if a second person was close enough. It was barbaric.

The scoff you let out is full of contempt.

Harley peeks over your shoulder, energy revitalized without the threat of death hovering so close, and the only reason you don’t startle is practice. Even crazier is that you haven’t seen her in nearly a year and her absurd knack for sneaking up on you was still familiar.

“Harley,” you admonish quietly, making yourself relax back and willing your heart rate down.

Naturally, Harley ignores you. “So you gonna disarm them now, or what?”

Harley having broken the seal, Ivy and Selina move to gather around the plant with you as well.

You hum at Harley’s question, “I could do that…or…” you meet the gazes of the women with you and their eyes glint back with a similar desire.

_ _ _

All of your laughter echoes into the night air, nothing but knocked out Squad members scattered about and crickets in your near surroundings.

“Planting the bombs in the underside of the Squad’s truck was a good idea, Y/n. I knew you still had it in ya!”

You scoff, “Right?”

“Yeah, and I say we keep this ball rolling!” Harley announces. She’s linked arms with Ivy, leaning into the other woman as they walk. “Get the team back together for some real excitement!”

Ivy stares down at her with an uncomfortable amount of affection and you have to look away from her and from Harley’s expectant expression. Unfortunately that means you’re looking at Selina instead and the way she grins at you sends your heart racing.

Yeah, no. Ultimately you settle on only looking straight ahead of you, brows furrowing as you think about how exactly you’re gonna get home. You clear your throat.

“You guys have fun with that. I’ma head home though.”

Harley makes an anguished sound.

“No, whaddya mean? Let’s go have some fun!” She detangles herself from Ivy to sling an arm over your shoulder. “I missed my favorite arsonist and it’s been forever since we’ve all been together. We should totally celebrate!”

You hear an “Oh boy,” off to the side from Selina and couldn’t agree more.

“I’m not an arsonist, Harls.”

She giggles, “Sure you are. When you go out on the town you usually explode shit, and that comes with lots of fire.”

“Okay, but the fire isn’t the goal. I’m not obsessed with it like Firefly’s crazy ass.”

“So what? You’re basically an arsonist with more steps. Fire starters still a fire starter if ya asks me. Ain’t that right, Red?”

You glance at each other over the blonde's head, your own shaking minutely, but Ivy just smirks.

“On the money, Love.”

Damnit, you should’ve asked Selena for help. Harley squeals and rushes away from you to catch Ivy up in a hug again.

“Ohhh, I knew you had my back, Iv!”

She ends the hug after kissing Ivy some more then snatches something off Selina’s belt and bounds over to you with it.

“Here.”

Harley pushes something into your chest—a ski mask

You guffaw.

“Oh no, I did not come here to fucking steal with you. All you bitches bring is trouble.”

“If we’re such trouble then why’d you come babes? We’ve already been working together and none of our recreational activities ever don’t lead to a little trouble anyway.”

“Just like helping breakout and disable the bombs put into an inmate, which you just did, mind you,” Ivy adds very unhelpfully.

You curb the urge to flip her off - an action Ivy would surely laugh off anyway - instead focusing on Selina taking up your immediate line of vision.

“They’re right,” she croons. The claws of her glove tap at the mask. “Just think of this as an early Christmas present.”

You turn the mask over in your hands, running your fingers over the two points at the top. Cat ears.

“Your old mask? Really?”

She shrugs, “It fit in my pocket.”

You shake your head at all three of them - Ivy too. She better not think she looks any more subtle than the other two with her up-to-no-good smirk fully in place. Upstanding citizens don’t make that face at the prospect of an impromptu heist.

“What would we even steal?”

Harley smiles.

“Wellll, Waller sent us to retrieve some old super important papers. Not really my thing but treasury documents sell like crazy. They’re like the government secrets of the bonds world, big men inbetween wives with fragile senses of self worth pay top dollar for them.”

Clearly being able to see the wheels in your head turning in her favor Selina drapes herself over your shoulders. She doesn’t even have the decency to assuage your ego by speaking, just starts playing with the way some of your coils are tight enough to spring back into shape when they’re pulled on. You blow air out from your nose and the way she chuckles reverberates up your spine.

“Now that you mention it, Harley, what does Amanda want with decades old bookkeeping anyway?”

“Leverage, Kitty Cat,” you can feel the way Selina’s eyes narrow and Harley laughs, “Waller serves the US government, and nothing does those a-holes better than a boon they can hold over some foreign schmucks’ heads.”

“Compelling argument,” you murmur, still twisting the mask over and over in your hold.

When you look up both Harley and Ivy are giving you expectant looks. Selina pokes you in the side.

“Just say yes, Slick,” she takes the mask and slips it over your head before walking around to grab your hand and pull you towards the others, “You know you're itching for the thrill.”

You give their words a second more of consideration before your lips purse.

“Fine,” Harley lets out a whoop, “but the second we get wind of Bats we leave.”

“Deal!”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[fandomnerd9602]

Dude, you should do something for Zoe Kravitz' version of Selina Kyle from The Batman.

Selina: baby I could rob you blind in a second

Y/N: easy you already did.

Selina: huh?

Y/N: you took the most valuable thing I had

Selina: your heart?

Y/N: that too...and my Babe Ruth baseball card! Who does that?!?

Selina: I'll return it to you for a kiss

[lowkeyerror]

Please more dirty Catwomen! Please!

Chase

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes: Dirty as requested smut, ig there's a plot maybe somewhere lol

Summary: Selina likes making you chase her.

Masterlist

For Selina, it was always about the chase. She found a certain thrill in evading the arms of justice. It made her feel unstoppable, free.

Y/n hated the chase. There was something profoundly exhausting about always being just out of reach. It made her feel idiotic, tired.

However, there was something both women had in common. The capture was the best part.

For Y/n, finally being able to catch her breath, only for it to be stolen away by plush lips, made the chase worth it.

For Selina, the weight on top of her was like a reward. It was as though a pool of diamonds lay on her chest, she was reveling in her score.

So as the two ran across the rooftops of Gotham, Y/n trailing behind Selina, they both were anxious.

The sound of shoes pounding against the concrete, grounded Y/n. Her breathing was loud, but steady. The cool Gotham air did little to regulate the heat radiating from her body.

Y/n didn't always catch Selina, but tonight she needed to. She wouldn't be discouraged by the chase, no matter how her lungs burned or how much her legs ached. Tonight, she needed her breath to be stolen.

It was effortless for Selina. Her breath and steps were nonexistent to the sound barrier. She was light on her feet and had perfect breath control. All she heard was the woman gaining on her from behind.

Selina could tell Y/n wanted it. There was an urgency in her pace that Selina had only known to lead to good nights.

The burglar could see vivid images of nights the two spent together. Lips on skin, sweat dripping profusely, cries lost in the Gotham sky; fuck. She needed this.

Y/n pounced when she saw her opening. Selina's back hit hard against the concrete rooftop. She hissed, but didn't do much more than that.

The hero panted as she straddled Catwoman. Her eyes locked on Selina's. With her chest heaving and her brow furrowed, she spoke," I wish you'd stop making me chase you."

" Can't keep up?"

Y/n pinned Selina's wrists above her head," You know I don't have a stamina problem. My problem is that every time I want to fuck you, I'm forced to run a marathon."

"Oh you poor thing."

Her faux pity only frustrated Y/n even more.

The hero was quick to connect their lips. Y/n kissed Selina as if she was her source of oxygen. The hands stayed above the thief's head as the kiss intensified.

Selina's hips buck upwards towards Y/n, begging for more.

Y/n chuckled against the woman's lips," You want more, Kitty?"

" I need you to fill me up," her eyes were already becoming cloudy.

" Well, I don't have the tools to do that on this rooftop, do I?"

Selina groaned, pushing the girl off of her before briefly taking in her surroundings.

" This way, and don't be slow."

It was Y/n's turn to groan as the woman began sprinting across the rooftops. They'd only crossed a few buildings when Y/n caught the woman slinking through a window. She was hesitant, but followed Selina anyway.

They landed in a bedroom.

" You know this is grounds for arrest, right?"

Selina rolled her eyes," I live here. Less talking, more fucking."

Her impatience was prominent. Y/n wasn’t moving nearly as fast as she needed to be in Selina’s mind. The Catwoman took matters into her own hands, using her claws to slice through the woman’s clothes. Y/n would’ve complained, but her lips were occupied. Selina’s hands wandered Y/n’s body, grasping at the exposed flesh.

Y/n’s hands were busy unzipping Selina’s skin tight suit. Once the suit hit the floor, Y/n was pulling the woman against her. Their naked bodies pressed flush against one another. Y/n guided them towards the bed. Selina falls first, but she pulls Y/n down with her.

Y/n’s hand dips down between their bodies, finding Selina’s wetness. The woman was dripping and if it wasn’t apparent before, it was apparent now just how desperate the woman truly was. The hero slips her finger inside of Selina with no resistance.

Selina begins to grind, needing more than the single finger.

“ Jesus, Kitty, you’re dripping. So needy for me tonight.”

The dark haired woman flips them over, so that Y/n’s back is flat against the mattress. Her hand wrapped around the woman’s throat, “ You are such a tease. Acting as if you aren’t just as needy as me.”

Her other hand dipped down, much like Y/n’s had done moments ago. However, instead of teasing, Selina shoved two fingers deep inside Y/n. She worked her fingers in and out of the woman, making intense eye contact.

“ Taste,” Selina removed the fingers from her cunt and shoved them into Y/n’s mouth. The hero kept eye contact as her head bobbed up and down to suck on the fingers.

They left her mouth with a quiet slurp. Selina kept a hand on Y/n's chest, signaling her to not move.

Y/n's eyes followed Selina up and off of the bed. She went straight to the closet. The woman knew exactly what she was looking for. Selina re-emerged with a harness and a dildo in her hand.

" Hips up," her words were soft, but it was still a command.

Y/n complied and once the harness was secured, her hands reached for Selina's hips. However, the agile woman swatted at the hero's hands.

" Let me suck you off. "

There was no objection on Y/n's behalf. She loved the way Selina looked with a cock in her mouth.

" Look at me," Y/n said as Selina took the plastic piece into her mouth.

She looked through her eyelashes to meet Y/n’s. The hero placed both of her hands in Selina's hair. Slowly guiding the girl's head up and down.

" Let me make you all pretty for me, Kitty."

Selina hums against the cock, giving Y/n permission to fuck her face. Y/n's hips buck fiercely into Selina's mouth. The sound of her gagging filled the room. Y/n could feel Selina's saliva pooling around the strap.

Tears began to feel her eyes as her throat took the pounding. The hands in Selina's hair yanked her head back off of the cock.

" You're going to be so full," this time Selina let Y/n grab her waist.

Selina slid down on the strap. Her hand rested on Y/n's shoulders as she began to bounce on the strap.

Her movements gradually picked up speed as she became accustomed to the size. Y/n hips snapped to meet Selina's half way.

She was transfixed on the dildo going in and out of Selina's pussy. The lewd sounds of them fucking bounced off the walls in the room.

Y/n slapped the woman's ass before pulling out and redirecting Selina n her back. Y/n wanted to be able to see every detail on Selina face as they fucked.

Her hands planted themselves on either side of Selina's head. Y/n began slamming her hips down into the Catwoman. Selina claws dug into Y/n's shoulder, the woman remained unfazed.

" Nothing to say about my stamina now, Kitty?"

Selina tried to glare but Y/n roughly snapped her hips, causing the woman to moan.

" Fuck, your cunt is just so sloppy. Taking my cock so good, leaking all over it. I wish I could cum inside that creamy cunt. See how fast you are when you're carrying my babies."

" Oh fuck," Selina's pussy was practically gushing at Y/n's words.

The girl on top smirked," You want that? For me to fill your pussy with my cum, make you keep it in there. Get you good and pregnant, Kitty."

Her cries began to reveal that she was close to the edge. Y/n's hand wrapped around her throat," I asked you something, Selina. Answer me."

Catwoman ignored her. That was a mistake because Y/n stopped thrusting immediately. Selina began to scramble to lift her hips to ride herself, but a firm hand kept them against the bed.

" Answer me."

Selina growled," Fuck Y/n, I want you to cum in my pussy. I want you to fill me up and slap me if any leaks out. Now fuck me."

Selina was now on all fours' ass sticking up in the air. Y/n was quick to slide the cock into Selina’s cunt. She wrapped her arm around Selina's neck, pulling the woman further into her.

" Cum for Kitty."

Y/n used her free hand to rub vicious circles on the woman's swollen clit, which caused her body to violently jerk. The image in front of her being enough to make Y/n come undone as well.

When Y/n pulled out of Selina's cunt, she removed the harness. Her eyes were locked on how messy the woman's pussy was.

Gently, she flipped the woman on her back. Selina propped herself up on her elbows," What are you doing?"

" Lie back for me, baby," there was a slight blush on Selina's cheeks at the use of the nickname. She did as she was told.

Y/n's hands were soft as they parted Selina's legs. The hero repositioned herself to that she was face to face with Selina's pussy.

In the most intimate act the two had probably ever done, Y/n began to delicately lick Selina. Her goal here wasn't overestimating the woman, just to clean and taste her.

Selina squirmed and Y/n let her. When she was satisfied, Y/n placed a kiss on Selina's inner thigh.

" I love the way you taste, Selina."

Lazily, the Catwoman signals for Y/n to kiss her. When their lips meet, a soft passion blossoms in the kiss. Something that feels like more than just fucking.

When it breaks, Selina's hands play with the baby hairs on the back of Y/n's neck," Stay with tonight?"

Y/n was surprised the woman asked. It made her heart skip a beat in her chest. She didn't tease the woman, instead placing a soft kiss on her lips.

" Ok."

The two further cleaned themselves before hopping back into the bed. Y/n didn't hesitate to wrap her around Selina's waist, cuddling the woman. Selina didn't protest, in fact she melted into Y/n's hold.

There's a single thought going through the woman’s mind.

Maybe I'll stop running.

[rebelliousstories]

Poinsettia

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Selina Kyle x Reader

Fandom: The Batman (2022)

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Mentions of Death and Angst

Word Count: 1,627

Masterlist: Here

Summary: A little Christmas cheer in their dreadful New York apartment.

“Selina! Sel? Where you at girl?” A voice called out as the door to the shabby New York apartment opened and shut behind the figure. She carried something in her gloved hands, but hid it behind her back when the young woman she shared her home with came through. Her cropped hair was wet, indicating it had been freshly washed. Along with that, the smell of soap crept through the apartment from the shower that had happened before she arrived home.

“Hey baby. I’m here. Sorry, I needed a shower. I felt gross after the club.” Selina came over and pressed a small kiss to her lover’s lips. Her hands wrapped around her waist and felt something behind her back.

“What’s behind your back?” She asked directly. Her girlfriend looked away impishly but refused to offer a response.

“It’s nothing.” She drawled out. Selina leveled a look at her partner and soon retracted her hands to look her more directly in the face.

“Babe?” Selina asked yet again, staring her dead in the eye.

“It’s your Christmas present, okay? Just, let’s go to bed and promise me you won’t look under the tree?” She pleaded and stepped closer to her girlfriend yet again. Selina did not move away, but did cross her arms as her lover tried to be sweet on her. It took several minutes of big eyes, and a smile before Selina relented.

“Fine. I won’t look. But you better hurry up.” She pressed a loving kiss to her girlfriend’s lips, and walked away. The woman, still standing with her hands behind her back, watched her girlfriend’s hips sway as she walked away. She brought her hands back around the front of her body as she walked over to their tree. There were only a few gifts underneath the tree, but that was okay. They did not need much, just each other. She set the big box down behind the other gifts almost out of view, before she stood back up. Her outer layer was shed before she left the living room; her scarf, gloves, and coat were placed on the couch before making her way to the bedroom.

When she got in there, Selina was already reclining on the bed beneath the covers. She held something in her hands, something that her partner recognized immediately. The only remaining picture of her and her mother that Selina held in her possession. Often times, their nights would end with her pulling the picture out of Selina’s hands after she had fallen asleep to keep it from getting lost or damaged. It comforted the woman to hold it; the last remaining thread of innocence she had left. No words were spoken as the other woman got ready for bed. Cleaning her face, brushing her teeth, covering her hair, all of it was done with speed and accuracy you only get from doing the same routine for years and years. Eventually, she climbed into bed with her lover and pulled her into her chest. Selina’s hands still held the photo as she laid her head down on her girlfriend’s chest.

“Your mom would be proud of the woman you have become.” She whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. Selina continued to stroke over her mother’s face in the photo, but her eyes were drawn to something in the corner. A brilliant splotch of red and green were in the corner.

“Did I ever tell you about this photo?” Selina asked, sounding very far away in her own head. She had, in fact, told her lover the story behind this particular photo. But that was not going to stop her from encouraging Selina to tell it again.

“Tell me.” She whispered, pressing another kiss to the head on her chest.

“When I was a kid, my mom couldn’t afford to do a big Christmas. But she would take me to the heart of the city to look at the lights. The one thing we got every year, from the same vendor, was a poinsettia plant. They would sell it to us for a fraction of what they were originally selling it for because they knew my mom. After she died, I never went back. I couldn’t without her.” Her voice trailed off, still lost in her own world as she remembered the snow filled nights where she went into the city to get those plants. Selina felt another kiss placed to her hair, and her lover’s hands rubbing up and down on her arms to soothe her.

Her lover stared at little Selina in the photo and smiled to herself. But her lover’s breathing slowed and eventually Selina was fast asleep. Her body went limp, and the photo dropped on her girlfriend’s stomach. She picked it up and stared for a moment longer, before placing it on her nightstand to protect the picture, turned out the lights, and went to sleep.

Snow filled the air when the couple awoke Christmas Day. They stretched and laid in the warm bed as they tried to wake up. However, with the day off, neither one cared too much about getting started on their day at a reasonable time.

“Merry Christmas, Sel.” She whispered to the woman that was now face to face with her on their sides in bed.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” She replied, laying a kiss upon her lover’s lips. Selina laid there for a moment more before she pulled away, and got out of the bed to head into the bathroom. She began to brush her teeth when her girlfriend came and hugged her from behind.

“My morning breath really that bad, huh?” She joked as she began to brush her own teeth. Selina chuckled lightly, trying desperately not to choke on the toothpaste in her mouth at her lover’s comment.

Once they were both done, a quick breakfast was had of a couple sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but it was enough for the couple on their budget. They made their way to the couch, where she had to move her outerwear from the previous night, and laid down on the couch. The radio in the corner of the room was on a station that played Christmas songs non-stop, which provided some noise for the couple to have in the background. They watched out the window for a while, just enjoying their time together. But eventually, Selina got curious about the large box that was tucked near the wall behind the tree with the rest of the presents.

“Can we open them now?” She asked her girlfriend, turning in her arms to look her in the eyes. When she nodded, Selina excitedly got up and immediately went to the large box behind the tree.

“Wait!” Selina stopped at her lover’s exclamation. She looked like a little kid with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Just, save that one till the end? Please. Trust me.” She explained, and while Selina was upset to not find out what her lover brought home last night, she relented. They spent a considerable time opening the gifts from one another. Their gifts were usually practical, but there were a couple that were pure wants rather than needs. A new wig, a refill on Selina’s favorite perfume, and a beautiful leather skirt graced Selina’s hands but she was itching to go look at the present behind the tree. Seeing her lover’s eyes drift over, she gave Selina a nod to go to the mystery present.

She got excited and ran over to grab the present. Placing it in front of her on the floor, Selina tore into it like a little kid. This was much bigger than their usual presents to each other, which got her curious. She tore off the wrapping paper and used a nearby knife to open the tape that closed the box before her. When she opened the flaps, however, she stopped. The smile fell off of her face, and her hands froze. Her lover sat on the couch, watching her from a distance with a tense stance. She was no sure how she would react, but this was making her nervous. Selina reached her shaky hands into the box and pulled out what was inside. A poinsettia plant with a very specific tag attached to it. The tag of the business she used to get it from as a child. She was at a loss for words as she looked towards her girlfriend on the couch with watery eyes. Without saying anything, her lover took over.

“I thought it might make you happy. It wasn’t difficult to find the business. And when I mentioned the Kyle girl was who I was getting it for, they were really excited to hand it off. Said they wanted me to bring you by at some point.” She explained gently. Selina wept as her hands traced the petals delicately, but she still said nothing. In a flash, the plant was set gently on the ground, and she had found a place in her girlfriend’s lap. She kept pressing kiss after kiss to her, cradling her face in her hands. Finally, coming up for air, Selina spoke for the first time since she opened the box.

“Thank you.” She whispered. Repeating her thanks, she kissed every inch of exposed skin in between her words. Her lover rested her hands on Selina’s waist and allowed her to do what she needed without impediment.

“You’re welcome.” Her girlfriend finally replied.

And there they sat. Selina perched in her girlfriend’s lap, pressing kisses and sweet words of endearment and thanks to her. And her girlfriend, happy to be able to bring just a little bit of happiness and light to their gloomy apartment in an equally gloomy city.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n:

requested by anonymous

Batman had his fair share of foes, but none like the femme fatale feline known as Catwoman, who had silently snuck up behind you and tapped your shoulder with her claw. “Hey, kitten,” she purred, knowing she’d startle you, “be a dear and give the big guy a message for me?” You spun around and readied your weapon, which made her chuckle. “And what are you gonna do with that?”

“I’m bringing you in, Catwoman.” You warned her, but she looked calm as could be.

“Yeah…right. Anyways, tell Batman to meet me here at midnight. Just him and I.” She passed you a note with a bright red lipstick mark on it, and a doodle of a cat to avoid any confusion. “I know I can count on you.” Selina practically taunted, petting your head quickly before flipping off the edge of the rooftop before you could even attempt to apprehend her. What a bust.

“Weird lady…hope Batman doesn’t ask any questions. Who am I kidding, of course he will.” You spoke to yourself, dragging your feet along the snowy ground and off to find Batman.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

[girlkisser13]

selina kyle masterlist

* indicates smut

headcanons

dating selina kyle would include

nsfw headcanons *

being the daughter of selina kyle and bruce wayne would include

imagines

drabbles

[promise-of-july]

ok ❤️ yay ❤️

[charlotteking23]

Sick Day! 🤒

But these fan art make me feel single 😢

Also, I wanted to say this art is not mine and credit whoever made this amazing arts.

[sahsalart]

(DC) C’mere Bae, Come Sit Next To Me

IK IT BEEN A WHILE SINCE A MF POSTED ART ON HERE!! And my post back, ofc, has to be DC related and more specifically, Batfamily bullshit cuz I love them. Especially Jason Todd‼️‼️ He’s my favorite fictional man even topping Leon🤭 This is a little part of something I’m working on so expect more.

Anywho, fanart with him and one of my many DC OC’s, Saími Caceres, who’s a lil feminine witch…

AND NO!! She is not hypnotizing him, her eyes glow when she feels strong emotions :)))

Enjoy <3

[joeshiestyslover]

─ .✦ batman!matt headcanons ─ .✦

sturniolo masterlist series masterlist

batman!matt who... came from money. his father, thomas sturniolo, was a renowned surgeon, philanthropist, and ceo of sturniolo enterprises in gotham city.

batman!matt who... grew up in the spotlight with his two brothers, nicolas and christopher.

batman!matt who... witnessed his parents' murders during a mugging gone wrong.

batman!matt who... inherited his father's company, since he was the most involved out of his brothers

batman!matt who... took his parents' deaths the hardest. he stayed in his room for months, never leaving the house and barely interacting with his brothers.

batman!matt who... was practically raised by his family's valet, alfred pennyworth.

batman!matt who... swore vengeance against criminals in gotham city to avenge his parents.

batman!matt who... in his late teen years, began crafting his bat-inspired persona, with the help of alfred and his brothers.

batman!matt who... began to patrol the streets, fighting crime that ranged from small muggings to attempted murders.

batman!matt who... at first, the gotham pd was concerned about, but they quickly realized he was cleaning up the streets.

batman!matt who... even had a special symbol that would be cast into the night sky whenever he was needed.

batman!matt who... became a playboy after he turned 18, attending and hosting many elegant galas and parties all around gotham city.

batman!matt who... does a great job in hiding who he truly is, with no one suspecting gotham's most eligible bachelor is really a crime-fighting caped crusader.

batman!matt who... has stopped a wide variety of criminals, including the joker, the scarecrow, and the riddler.

batman!matt who... was summoned one night to stop a planned robbery on a yacht.

batman!matt who... the moment he stepped onto the yacht, he saw a figure sneak through the shadows.

batman!matt who... was caught off guard when he was pinned down... by a woman? in a black cat suit?

batman!matt who... the moment he looked into her eyes, he knew he was done for.

batman!matt who... the first words that were spoken to him by the mysterious woman were: "what? cat got your tongue, batboy?"

tags: @muwapsturniolo, @l34n, @keerahsturn

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

[anitalenia]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. ₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ✧˚ ༘

— 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝘥𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

˚☽˚｡⋆ 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑. The silence was too loud and his room was too cold — his arms and torso were left bare to freeze thanks to you (he was too much of a gentleman to snatch the blanket off you anyway). The heavy rain smacked into his windows pointedly and purposefully; with every loud drop it made his lip twitch in annoyance.

The air was sharp and frosted, it burned his nose when he breathed in too deeply and it made him wonder if Alfred forgot to turn the heat on — better yet if you turned it off, knowing you hated to fall asleep too warm and Alfred was too meticulous and thorough to forget to turn it off at all.

It was dingy and dismal, dark and dreary just as Bruce preferred it to be, so little going on for him to be so awake and agitated but yet… maybe that was just it. The silence, the boredom, the macabre sense of monotony on an unfamiliarly quiet Saturday night — so little going on it was driving him mad.

Bruce stared up at the ceiling with his arms laid out on his shirtless stomach, restless but tired. His limbs were sore and heavy, his body bruised and battered, yet his dark eyes couldn’t help but flicker over to his window ever so often when he thought about what was on the other side of it — the source of his calamity.

He’d stare through the droplets of water at the blurred kaleidoscope of lights as they shone onto his floor, not eagerly per say just habitually; Bruce seldom ever saw a peaceful night in, so unaccustomed with the sweet domesticity of crawling under the covers at 10:30 pm and kissing your lover goodnight — he was usually so busy, for Gotham never slept and crime never seemed to stop.

No, Bruce couldn’t sleep; his thoughts a morbid mess of batman-esque obligation that made it impossible to close his eyes.

You were a different matter entirely as Bruce turned his head to look at you; snuggled up on your side of the large bed with his thick, black comforter surrounding you, breathing gently on the muscle of his shoulder and sleeping soundly, beautifully.

His pretty little wife.

His eyes looked over the sharp shadows of your sleeping beauty. From your wispy eyelashes, to your cute little nose, to your softly parted lips, a soft smile adorning the corner of his mouth as he did — he couldn’t help it.

Your hair was frizzy and tangled messily around your head, your soft breaths ever so often stuttered with an adorable snore but Bruce couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked anyway as he raked his eyes over your face fondly.

As he did he realized how grateful he was that you didn’t need to worry yourself with the things that he did; you were too innocent for the cruelty of Gotham City, too pure and divine; an angel wrapped in wicked tapestry.

Even now, in your pale white pajamas on black silken sheets you looked too fragile for them, like they could wrap their shadowy arms around you and swallow you whole — just as the city could so easily do if he wasn’t there to protect you.

If Batman wasn’t there to save you.

I don’t care, Bruce. I love you anyway.

That’s what you’d always say when Bruce would settle down in bed beside you with a heavy sigh and whisper why do you stay?, on those long nights when he’d come home brutally battered and fatigued. After a night of being heavily reminded to the real dangers waiting just outside his door like a pack of feral dogs and how easily they could ensnare you in their jaws.

I don’t care. I love you.

He loved you too, he really very did.

With that final thought, Bruce was still caught staring at you with a soft look of love on his face when you gently fluttered your eyes open, your body sensing his awareness before your mind could.

He watched patiently as you groggily looked around before eventually meeting his gaze, his eyes getting even softer at the adorable look of confusion on your face.

Your eyes tiredly looked back up at him despite the darkness surrounding you two, able to see his frowned lips and dark eyes clearly, “Bruce? Why are you still awake?”

Your voice was raspy and tired, a small yawn following your statement that made pity tear at his heart for waking you up.

Bruce ran his hazel eyes over your face some more before he responded, unable to stop cherishing you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He simply responded, voice low and intimate, words spoken in the bare space between his lips and yours.

You settled into your silken pillow with a small huff, eyes focused more on Bruce’s face now as the grogginess gradually melted away and your vision became clearer — the silence and rain thrumming calmly around you. It wasn’t a normal night in Gotham City without the rain.

“Well, did you try?” You teased just as quietly as he, smiling a little at the chuckle he gave you in response.

“Yes, of course I tried. It clearly didn’t go as planned.” Bruce mumbled back with a faint snicker, speaking just loud enough so you can hear him over the rain pattering on the windows, a small smile now quirked on his sharp lips.

You hummed in acknowledgment, eyes looking between his, knowing Bruce well enough to know when he was lying.

“I don’t really believe you. What’s keeping you awake?” You sighed with furrowed brows, resting your head right next to his bare shoulder to look up at him better — maybe if you pouted in that cute way he liked he’d tell you honestly.

Bruce faltered at that, looking down at you with a heavy heart; he couldn’t possibly tell you that he felt guilty laying in bed with you when he should’ve been out there, out there protecting those who needed him. But the fact of the matter, one he couldn’t argue with, was that you needed him as well.

He couldn’t possibly tell you how conflicted he really was but probably shouldn’t have been; two parts of him sharing the same mind and body but each with entirely different obligations — the irreconcilable duality that was he.

One part of him was Bruce Wayne; millionaire, orphan, husband, you needed that side of him, you deserved to have him for at least one night. But he was also Batman, and Gotham always needed him.

He was haunted with a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde but instead of one side lusting for murderous intent his alter ego longed for rightful justice in the grandest city of injustice. Batman was the only one who could live harmoniously in the dark, the only one capable of doing the things he did. It was an enervative dichotomous life of matrimonial duties and moral obligation.

There were two men sharing the same halves of the same soul and Bruce couldn’t decide which heart to listen to without making the other one feel guilty.

“Just work stuff, honey. It’s nothing you need to worry about, trust me.” Bruce dismissed after a short moment, shaking his head gently with a reassuring smile on his thin lips — like that could convince you of anything.

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, registering the slight blue bags under his eyes and the crippled fault in his smile, all small clues of his devious, well-intentioned deception.

“Which work stuff?” You prodded carefully, raising a brow at him as suspicions already began to brew in the back of your mind as to what he was really referring.

Bruce chuckled again at that, loving your caring and inquisitive nature any day but wishing you’d just drop it already. He really couldn’t bear weighing any of the pressure he carried on your delicate shoulders, fearing you’d crumble under the weight of it.

“Really, it’s…” Bruce looked back up at the ceiling in indecision, searching for the right words, “it’s nothing I can’t handle, okay?” He looked back down at you with confidence, his voice firmer than before but still softly spoken to get his point across.

You narrowed your eyes at him with that, knowing it was a response you fully expected but were still annoyed to hear.

You were aware that he was lying to you but also aware that he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you begged him; he never liked to tell you anything about his Batman related problems and it greatly frustrated you for some reason.

As his wife didn’t you deserve to know at least something? You were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his long awaited proposal. After all, you didn’t just marry Bruce Wayne but you married Batman as well… you could handle the truth even if he didn’t seem to think so.

You sighed anyway, unable to mask your irritation towards him for keeping you in the dark. Your lack of sleep didn’t help the influx of annoyance either.

You took your head off his warm shoulder and went to turn around away from him, your fatigue easily irritating you more than usual.

Bruce licked his lips and sighed, having already disappointed you in an attempt to protect you; a small price to pay if it meant your pretty little head wasn’t clogged with constant, pained disquietude like his was.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” You muttered more to yourself than anything, fussing with the blanket you had wrapped yourself in during your slumber and now seemed to be stuck in.

Before you could fully turn around though Bruce laid a warm, consoling hand on your forearm that made you pause, “Hey, hey, wait.”

You lingered a moment at the feel of it before turning back around to face him, expression a little more sour than before — tired and impatient.

Bruce felt guilt swirl in his stomach at the look on your face, knowing he was disappointing you but also knowing it was for the best.

He kept the hand on your arm, leaning up and wrapping it around your back to bring you into his chest, his other arm going behind your neck and tucking you into his side like you were his most precious doll — you were of course.

You didn’t fight him even if you wanted to, enjoying the warmth he provided and the safety you subconsciously sought out snuck tight in between his arms.

“Bruce.” You grumbled anyway as you settled against him, his arm releasing you for a moment to pick the blanket up and over his waist so there was nothing separating you two from each other.

You felt hard plains of muscle underneath you when he did, a flustered pinkness appearing on your cheeks, then slowly crept in hot embarrassment at the fact that your husband’s carefully structured body that you’ve seen many many times still managed to make you shy.

You melted into his side, albeit a bit stiffly as you were still annoyed with him and wanted to blatantly show it, your arms stubbornly slotted against your chest to separate yourself from laying completely on his.

When Bruce was done adjusting the blanket, the bed moving as he did, he settled still and looked down at you with those kind eyes of his you loved so much, the ones that always flustered you when you stared back into them for too long.

The arm behind your neck pushed you closer to him while he took his right hand and wrapped it around your chin, his palm so warm and big against your jaw that you couldn’t help but sigh in submission.

Bruce gently forced you to look up at him, his eyes staring down at you softly but earnestly.

“Alright, hey, don’t be like that with me. If there was something I thought you really needed to know I’d tell you. Otherwise, it’s best I keep that side of myself as private from you as possible. I hate the thought of you being in danger because of me, because I exposed you to that side of myself you didn’t need to see.” Bruce whispered genuinely, minty breath fanning over your nose as you stared up at him, seemingly calm now and even just a little regretful for being so upset with him in the first place.

“Just give it a rest honey, alright? I promise you, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Do I ever go back on my promises, hmm?” He said sweetly, looking down at you with insistent but loving eyes in the expectation of you responding.

You paused for a moment as you registered his words, still curious to know what he was really thinking about because you just couldn’t help it. You worried for him, wished he’d be more open with you so you could help him in whatever way you could. However, you also didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was either, your mind picturing all the purple bruises littering his beautiful body pitifully.

So, you just shook your head like a scolded child, “No… you don’t.” You’d have to bite your tongue for now, pouting up at him cutely — Bruce was just too sweet to argue with sometimes and he knew it.

Bruce gave you a charming smile, gray shadow washed over the angles of his straight nose and narrow cheeks. His brown hair was more unkempt than usual, wavy tendrils of it fallen around his face. He looked so handsome, more tranquil this way, as he leaned down and gave you a peck on the forehead, a sweet hum sounding in the back of his throat.

“That’s my girl.”

You sighed happily, giving in to him completely now and wrapping an arm around his chest so you could burrow against him; he wrapped his arm around you tighter instinctually, enjoying the feel of you against him as he looked up at the ceiling in content.

Nothing was better than being with you, so much so that Batman himself felt satiated from his lonely perch in the back of Bruce’s mind.

You stared out the large, arched window on his wall for a few quiet moments, watching as the rain quickly fell down the glass one by one as Bruce softly traced his textured fingertips along the spine of your back.

“It always rains, you ever notice that?” You murmured tiredly against his skin, in a daze from the tingling sensation on your skin as he caressed your back in gentle, loving touches.

Bruce looked away from you a moment when you spoke to spare the window a disinterested glance, “What? You don’t like the rain, Mrs. Wayne?” He teased you, his spirits higher than before as he looked back down at you even if you couldn’t see, his nose filled with the sweet smelling shampoo you used — coconut and vanilla.

You smiled a little — you loved when he called you that.

“Well of course you do. You’re Batman, you’re supposed to like depressing things.” You spoke with a smile, only teasing him as your eyes drifted shut from the comfort of his body against yours, muscles melting against the black sheets nestled between his own.

Bruce chucked at that, his hand ceasing its calming motion, “oh, is that right?”

You hummed with an amused smile on your lips, nodding your head, “mmhmm, yes sir.”

Bruce scoffed playfully at that, looking down at you with a fond playfulness in his eyes before gently taking his muscled arm out from underneath your head.

You lifted your head up curiously to look at him, wishing for the moment to not be disturbed, only to be gently rolled over so that Bruce was laid on top of you and you were now sunken into the inky black abyss of cushions beneath him. Your lips parted in a slight gasp, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes he loved so much in surprise.

“Now now, Mrs. Wayne, don’t go calling me that unless you plan on doing something about it, it’s in bad taste.”

You giggled at that, a joyous and twinkling sound that made Bruce tense up, his eyes darting towards your lips and his heart quickening in his chest. You always had such an effect on him even if you didn’t know it.

“How ‘bout you do something about it then?” You whispered up to him sensually, voice low and playful. You could feel the air surrounding the little bubble you two found yourselves in change heavily as you ran your hands softly over his midsection, his light skin cold and soft, muscles hard and firm as you traced your fingers delicately over each individual ab until Bruce was twitching at the feeling.

He glanced down at your hands hotly, already worked up from your minuscule touches alone, his skin tingling from the sensation as a familiar heat started to twirl in his lower tummy.

He looked back down at you, eyes more hooded now but just as eagerly as rain pounded on the windows somewhere in the background — you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of his warm breaths and the gradual throbbing between your own legs.

“Yeah? Would you like if I did something about it, Mrs. Wayne?” Your husband mumbled huskily, a teasing smirk on his lips as he lowered down closer until his face was just above yours, his big arms pressed into the pillow on each side of your head so you were surrounded by him.

He could see the way you inhaled at the name, felt the way your nails dug into his skin for a subtle, fleeting moment. He always knew all the right ways to turn you on, knew all the right words to say to make you melt in his hands like warm syrup — you were certainly just as sweet.

You stared up at your husband with heavy breaths, mouth watering for a taste of him, eyes blown black with love and unabashed want as he sat in the reflection of your irises. Your skin felt hot and your thighs tightened around his waist, arms aimlessly tracing the ridges of muscle that coated Bruce’s front; it was in an innocently naive way now, so unaware of how badly it was affecting Bruce himself as your initial confidence dwindled down to need.

You impatiently waited for him to make a move, give into the desire you both so clearly felt as your eyes ran over his shirtless body and perfect face in the mean time. With every exhale of breath out of his mouth you found yourself inhaling it back in, breathing his air and smelling of Bruce’s aftershave, Bruce’s shampoo, it was all just Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.

He had completely overwhelmed your senses with his smell, his presence, his very existence and it was making it hard to think clearly — only he plagued your thoughts so much it made your fingertips buzz to feel more of him.

It was in moments like these where the sheer size of Bruce was brought to your attention; he was much more muscular than you, all sharp edges and ridges of pure muscle and destruction that could destroy anything he put his hands on.

It was ironic to you, how those same hands that broke bones were the same hands that caressed your skin in the softest of touches, in the softest of ways, irrevocably incapable of breaking you.

Bruce believed he was all carnal ruination — hands made to break and fists made to destroy. He believed he had a dark side in him he couldn’t control, that Batman was the outlet for all the frustration he felt towards the injustices of the city and how easily it corrupted the lightest of souls. He believed he was made to hurt, to cause ruin — a reason why he never took a single human soul no matter how rotten it was.

But you believed he didn’t give himself enough credit, which is exactly why moments like these were so important to remind him.

You swallowed nervously now as you looked back into his eyes, your fingers faltering in their movement as they stilled on the angles of his hips, right outside the tight band of his black sweatpants.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne, that’s exactly what I want.” You whispered back up to him in a velvety soft tone, eyes looking at his pink lips and then flickering back up between his hazel irises lustfully; the look in them was too intense for you to handle but you sufficed, your heart thrumming passionately under your skin at the attention.

Bruce almost melted at the name, just as affected by the title as you were, lowering his face down until his nose was touching yours, his lips hovering right above your own.

“That’s my girl…” Bruce breathed thickly against your lips, his eyes flickering to your mouth as yours did the same to his, your mouth salivating for a taste of him.

A silent beat passed as you both just stayed in that position, locked into each other’s loving gazes and gentle touches, his lips just a whisper away from yours screaming to have you, to taste you. It was intimate and warm, quiet, your body feeling fuzzy and alight with something similar to deep admiration and not so far from a deep, shared love for each other.

There was no playfulness about it now.

It was then, when the tension had sizzled into flame did Bruce finally lean down and kiss you, his lips soft and cold, so contrasting from the warmth he sought in yours as the rain pattered on the windows and your angelic essence drowned him further into the depths of you.

You moaned softly, feeling relief flood through you as your hands gripped his hips for some sort of anchor off the clouds you seemed to be floating on. Bruce kissed you lovingly, a characteristic act of tenderness as he found his own needy noises hum in the back of his throat.

It was sweet and slow, lips careful and gentle against each other between delicate sighs and hums. He tasted of peppermint and the faint drawl of bourbon, his tongue damping your lips and your shared saliva wet on your mouths.

He seperated from you just for a short moment, your lips feeling the loss but not for too long before he was on you once more with a fervor, tongue molding between your lips forcefully and sucking yours into the warmth of his mouth.

You whined at the sudden confidence within him, lips barely moving against his as he took control of your movements and gave you no other option but to take what he gave you — his lips and his tongue tangling with yours messily as sensual rumbles sounded deep from within in his chest.

He brought a hand down from the pillow and intertwined it in your hair, tangling his thick fingers into your roots and pulling hard enough to arouse you further. It made your back arch and lips part in a salacious gasp.

Bruce found himself unable to part from your delectable taste for long, taking that moment to reconnect his damp lips to the skin between your chin and shoulder. He forced your head back as he kissed your neck, the cold air hitting every damp spot in a pleasurable tingling sensation that had your nails digging into his abs.

“Bruce…” You sighed oh so sweetly in a distracted state of mind, just wanting to say his name and have him hear how good he was making you feel with his simple kisses alone — a feat he always accomplished anytime he did.

The praise didn’t fall on deaf ears but he was too preoccupied with the sound of your heavy breaths and whines to really pay attention, too love drunk on the smoothness of your skin falling over his tongue as he licked his way down to your collarbone. He released his grip on your hair and his hands made idle work in caressing their way down your body to the hem of your white pajama top.

His hands were eager, so familiar on the curves of your body as they slid back up to your chest, hands big and desperate as they tightly gripped your bosom for a fleeting moment that had you moaning at the sting — he was handsy, unable to get enough of you and the way your body perfectly slotted between the strength and ridges of his hands.

His cock was already hard in his slacks, poking against your thigh absentmindedly as his hands dug into the center of your top and adamantly ripped it right down the middle. The buttons flew over the bed and your tits spilled out of the ripped material in a gorgeous ripple of flesh that had Bruce groaning at the sight.

“So beautiful, so gorgeous, just fucking perfect…” He mumbled in a lustful daze, more to himself as a factual observation, his hands now gripping your waist, eager mouth leaning down and making quick work to lap at your chest in the way he knew you liked.

You giggled dreamily at that, feeling fluttery and lightheaded at the praise, body warm and melting like a cube of butter on top of his silk bed sheets. He was always capable of making you melt with just a few loving words and caresses, another one of his talents.

Your hands had found their way into his thick hair, massaging at the loose strands when you decided it was impossible to stay still from the buzzing running through your pores.

Your pussy throbbed in your pajama shorts, painfully so, stomach in tight knots at the sparks shooting down to your core from his ministrations.

He found himself enthralled by the feeling of your tit in his mouth, fervently sucking on the skin there as his hands gripped into your waist so tight in a subconsciously possessive hold so you could never leave. Maybe it was the semblance of Batman himself leaking out from under tight fingertips, a degree of fierce protection in the way he held you underneath him, unable to be taken or destroyed by the same evil he fought almost every night.

You were here with him, with him and all of his burdens for the rest of your lives.

“So gorgeous…”

Bruce was lost in the pleasure you helplessly moaned in his ears, feeling his own mutual desire swirling in his tummy and thrumming through his skin that made every touch feel like fire, every kiss an ember from the flame until you and him were intertwined ash lost in the black smoke.

He loved you, his pretty wife, always so supportive and forgiving in the moments he definitely didn’t deserve it.

He picked his head up, panting and lips wet, your chest littered in pink marks and damp with his spit as Bruce licked his lips, hungry for more already.

You looked at him in all his glory, admiringly, just as enamored with him as he was with you as your warm hands slid down to his cheeks. Your own were flushed pink and feverish, breath warm and heavy as you lovingly ran your palm over his sharp cheekbone. His skin was soft, smooth and tepid under your dainty fingertips.

You gently caressed the faint purple of a bruise with your thumb, right in the hollow of his eye.

Bruce leaned into the tender action for a spared moment of comfort, his eyes hooded and twinkling in the dark as he breathed heavily against your lips. He kept finding himself absent in the presence of your beauty, staring at your face and your lips and being so thankful he had you at all.

“So beautiful…” He breathed gingerly, eyes looking over your face like he was seeing you for the first time — no, he was selfish in his blatant admiration of your magnificence, his heart throbbing almost painfully in his love for you as he watched the soft corners of your mouth twist into a shy smile at your devotees idolatrous attention.

He leaned down after a fond moment of your thumb tracing his cheekbone, after he was satisfied with his generous intake of your prettiness. He pecked an affectionate kiss on your smiling lips before dipping his head down and laying several kisses to your neck once more.

You bit your lip at the sensitive feeling, closing your eyes, lost in the feel of him, as he pampered you with doting kisses all the way down to your ribcage, his hands now playing with the hem of your shorts but not too boldly as to take them off quite yet.

“You’re everything, you know that? I could never imagine my life without you… you’re perfect, so perfect.” He rubbed your stomach adoringly, “Your body is perfect, so beautiful, I can’t believe you ever married me…” He mumbled in that rough voice of his, vulnerable in the night, in the moment when you couldn’t see him all the way clearly but he could see all of you just fine.

You could feel another smile playing on your lips — not that it had even left — the heavy sensation of happy tears casting a light sheen over your eyes. He was the perfect one, he was the gorgeous and beautiful counterpart of you that didn’t seem to realize his own value. You only wished you had the poetic spark in yourself that he had, then you’d be able to voice it properly. Still, his praise made your heart swell as he took your left hand and kissed the diamond ring on your finger amorously.

“Oh, Bruce…” You spoke in a hushed manner, voice wobbling from the overwhelming infatuation you had for the man, so thankful and grateful for such a man as wonderful as he. In your eyes the sudden romance had come out of nowhere, but it was still greatly appreciated as it caused your voice to thicken with the downpour of love it had spiked.

He looked into your eyes as he warmly kissed your palm, lips quirked slightly, eliciting another tender hearted smile from you. He then let you settle your hands back on his shoulders as he slotted himself between your hips, the affectionate moment lingering in the air as you pet his wide shoulders.

You were laid on your back, smooth thighs spread to accommodate his size between them, pajama top ripped down the middle in fragmented material hanging off your shoulders, your tits pooled on your chest and wet with his kisses. Your hair was tangled, fanned around your head, lips pink and plushy from all his salacious kisses, your eyes glittering erotically bright.

Despite that, you were not uncomfortable to be so exposed to him, exposed in a way you’d only ever be with him. You knew he would never judge you nor your body, that he loved you and all your freckles and scars and all the blemishes you considered imperfections — he loved them all. The only part of you not seen were covered by the shorts Bruce was already eager to take off.

You were beautiful to him, ethereal even, just as he said you were an angel, something divine and pure, a holy deity completely out of this world that transcended the mortal plane he was bound to, letting his lowly lips and hands cherish your merciful soul and body. Just oh so perfect.

“I love you…” You whispered, pathetically cute, down to him, a whisper wafting into his ears soft and fragile as if you were scared he wouldn’t say it back — he’d say it everyday for a thousand years if he had the blessing of living that long with you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulsing with need, as you smiled down at him sweetly.

“I love you more, Mrs. Wayne… I love you more…” He breathed hotly against your stomach, already leaning down and peppering sugarcoated kisses along your pelvis, so much closer to where you really needed him that the throbbing had become unbearably intense, wetness soaking your inner thighs and cream colored shorts. You felt your body shiver at the title once more.

You swallowed shakily as Bruce moved down, his daft fingers hooking into the band of your shorts and gently shoving them down to your knees as his longing lips reached the band of your lavender laced panties.

Your thighs tightened around his head as cool air hit your wet center, your body sensitive and pulsing heavy notes of desire straight into your pussy that made it hard to keep your head up and eyes open.

You just needed him, needed him and his expert mouth to bring you some sort of relief. Your toes were curled already, pussy clenching around nothing and spewing out clear juices that only damped your underwear further. You tangled your fingers into his hair heatedly, resisting the urge to shove his head down where you really wanted him.

Bruce swallowed hungrily, staring at your panty-clad pussy with dark eyes. He could smell your sweetness on his nose, the rain pattering on the windows still and the room still dark as sin but he could see his heaven clear as day, hypnotized by the patch of wetness in your panties, molded to the shape of your pussy lips and begging to be ripped apart.

His eyes flickered up to you, feeling your grabby fingers tangled in his hair as your thighs tensed back and forth around his neck.

Your head was barely held up, eyes hooded and sparkling with a form of lustful desperation as you stared down at him. Your chest bobbing up and down heavily and your skin radiant and smooth, the city lights from his window blurredly reflected in the fat of your cheeks. You already looked destroyed, like he had just fucked your brains out yet he really hadn’t done a thing.

“Bruce, come on…” You whined in a delicate plea when he made no movement further, hands barely pulling his hair but it was hard enough for his skin to prickle in pleasure, a hiss leaving his lips, just hard enough to get your message across.

He snickered at that, lips shiny and jaw chiseled, his face so sharp yet soft at the same time. His beauty greatly perplexed you for how could a mere mortal be so fucking handsome? He was though, he was strong and big and riddled with scars and imperfections yet the accumulation of all those little faults are what made him flawless.

Bruce himself felt the throbs of impatience nestled in his stomach, burrowed in his heart, buzzing at his fingertips, as he looked down at your pussy once more just inches from his mouth, both wet and watering for the other.

“Be patient, honey. I just wanna look at ‘cha first. You’re so pretty, dripping wet for me…” He had the audacity to murmur in that cocky voice of his, yet simultaneously genuine and stunned at the observation as his hands rubbed your thighs, being sure to heartily press into the tissue in that way he knew you liked.

You couldn’t help but pull his hair some more, bursting at the seams for some sort of pleasure you feared it would boil over and you’d explode. You felt frustration settle through your veins once more like molten lava, your skin tensing and thighs aching from their tight grip around his neck.

“Bruce, no more teasing, please? Just please…” You moaned and whined like a stubborn girl, voice thick with need and painful yearning that made his cock twitch in his pants. You almost sounded broken, voice fragmented with a certain torment only his mouth and fingers could appease.

He licked his lips, feeling desire swell in his lower tummy at the state of you — already so incapable of any thought but the memory of his cock inside you, the feeling of his fingers drilling into your tight hole as he spat and licked on your sensitive clit. It was all you could think about, all you could picture in your mind as your head laid back on the pillows and you scooted down the bed until your pussy was right in his face.

The blanket had long since been forgotten, bunched around his hips and aiding as a nice cushion for his abdomen hunched over the end of the bed.

Bruce felt himself chuckle huskily at your shameless neediness, his big hands stopping on your plush inner thighs as he settled down between your legs on the soft mattress, getting himself comfortable for you.

You breathed heavily, eyes closed as you laid back on the silken pillow with your face crumbled so cutely. He was such a tease even when he was meant to be sweet, even when he was insistent on being a good husband who doted on his wife whenever he could — you guessed growing up rich gave him that arrogant edge.

Your stomach was knotted so tight, your skin hot and shivering for some sort of touch as your fingers dug themselves into the roots of his damp, brown hair. You needed him so bad, but your pussy needed him worse.

You felt your thighs tickle as Bruce lightly traced the pads of his fingers down, down, down until he was at the crook of your inner thigh, his right hand digging into the flesh of your leg like he himself couldn’t hold back from you anymore.

Bruce didn’t bother voicing any teasing quips or dirty statements, knowing you were so out of it you wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Every fiber of your being was hooked on his touches, hyper aware of the spots his fingers trickled across, eager for some degree of pleasure that would make this painful waiting period worth it.

He swallowed down the salvia pooling in his throat, so hungry for a taste of you, starved almost. His index finger hooked into your panties and delicately pushed them out of the way until they were bunched in the crook of your thigh. His eyes were met with your soaking wet slit in all its glory.

White, creamy arousal stuck to your panties and dripped down your pulsing hole into the crack of your ass, sheer white beads of cum dribbled down your needy hole that would escape his tongue before he even got a proper taste of you yet.

The cool air made you whine behind closed lips, your voice high pitched and desperate now, your fingers tighter in his hair as your hips subtly bucked forward. The beautiful noises you were making made Bruce’s jaw clench.

You were glistening, shiny with arousal and the strings of impenitent want, evidence of your desire and love for him as he found himself inhaling the scent of you once more.

You smelt so good. He found himself groaning at the musky sweetness, his finger still hooked around the crotch of your panties as his other hand tightly gripped your thigh — you moaned softly at the pressure, sure that there would be the faint yellow bruises of his adoring fingerprints pressed into your skin tomorrow. A charming reminder of the evening when they blossomed.

You felt your core clench once more, thighs tensing up as wetness shone in his greedy irises.

Bruce was unable to wait any longer, his mouth salivating and his eyes blown black as he pressed his tongue into your wet hole and licked a bold stripe all the way up to your buzzing clit, the taste of your arousal pooled on his tongue and already dripping down the sharp corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t stop the loud moan from echoing in the room, euphoric sounding as sweet sparks went off all over your skin at the long awaited contact. Your fingers tightly anchored themselves in Bruce’s hair as his tongue went up and down your folds, gathering as much of your wetness in his mouth as he could.

His hands swiftly dug themselves into your hips to hold you down once you started writhing in his hold. His tongue forcefully circled your clit in sharp wet strokes, deep rumbled moans escaping his chest that vibrated the sensitivity of it and only made more wetness gush out of you and soak his chin.

You tasted so good, so fucking good; he wanted nothing more than to be drowned in your essence, choking on everything you gave him until his belly was full and even then he wouldn’t be satisfied, he’d never be satisfied. He was like a monster, chasing every little drop of cum that pebbled out of your clenching hole with a forked tongue, greedy and carnivorous like you were the only nectar he ever wanted to taste again.

His tongue lapped your pussy once more as you gasped, back arched and toes clenched as he thrusted his tongue into you over and over, wet and messily as your juices shimmered on his cheeks and lips.

No, he decided, the beast within him would never be tamed.

You bucked away from his mouth in a pathetic attempt to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure, but Bruce held you down with his strong arms, staring up at you with furrowed brows of concentration as his lips molded over your puffy clit once more, swollen from need and his relentless licking.

He was nothing if not devoted, devoted to your elegance, to your holy figure and endless love as he lapped at you desperately, his tongue swirling your clit as the fabric of your panties tickled his nose. He couldn’t get enough, pushing deeper and harder until your wetness was messily smeared on his mouth and face, eating more and tasting more until his entire being was smothered with your cum inside and out.

“Bruce, o-oh my god!” You squealed wantonly, one hand now gripping the black sheets between tight fingers as your other hand remained in his hair, following the movements of his head as he went up and down, side to side until not an inch of you wasn’t covered in his salvia.

He breathed hotly against you, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of you in his mouth and trickling down his throat. He couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t listen to reason as all he could focus on was you and your cum, tasting you, licking you, having you in every sense of the word. No one could tear him away from you, not now, not when he was so close to having you cum in his mouth and reaching his final purpose.

You were so close, you could feel it in your tummy. Your hole clenching around his tongue as he went back and forth from your clit and your soaked hole, wanting to pleasure you but simultaneously wanting to taste you for his own pleasure.

Your toes curled, stomach tightened, hands gripping the sheets as your mouth flew open in sporadic moans and gasps, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your thighs squeezed around Bruce so tight you’d fear he’d never surface from between your legs again.

He wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Bruce picked his head up only high enough to talk, lips dripping and almost incoherent as he mumbled deeply into the wet folds of your pussy like he couldn’t bear to part, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Mrs. Wayne, make me proud, cum in my mouth.” As he voiced this his one hand crept down and slyly inserted themselves into the tight confine of your warmth, his index and middle fingers pushing inside you, so long and so big it made you cry out.

It was wet and warm, your juices slapping against his knuckles as he circled his fingers inside you, pushing on the spot he knew he was supposed to as his mouth eagerly returned to your clit. He looked up at you, eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your tits jiggling with every thrash of your hips, every arch of your back and every gasp out of your pretty, dampened lips.

He groaned into you at the sight, feeling his cock achingly hard in his pants as he sucked your clit into the warmth of his mouth and refused to let go, tongue prodding the area skillfully and harshly. He wasn’t going to stop this time, not until you were creaming around his fingers and leaking down his neck.

The air was so thick and stuffy that you couldn’t help but pant fervently, your body prickled with pleasure and overwhelming sensations that made it hard to focus on anything but his fingers inside you, long and lithe, slipping in and out as the sounds of your wetness clouded your ears and muffled your moans.

Bruce himself was lost in you, tongue and lips a glistening mess as they lapped and circled and sucked every part of your pussy exposed to him, it felt so good it stung — he was groaning into you softly, pleasure building in his tummy and rumbling through his mouth to your already so sensitive clit.

It was then, just a few short moments after his fingers wormed their way inside your tight walls, just a few short moments after he sucked your clit into his mouth did you feel your stomach relax, thighs squeeze around his head so hard he felt himself go dizzy.

“Ahh, O-oh my god, Bruce!” You moaned so blissfully, so sweetly, as your juices squirted onto his chin and his fingers squelched inside you.

Bruce moaned at the feeling, fingers gently sliding out of your clenching hole so his tongue could catch all the cum pouring out. You whimpered at the feeling of his mouth still on you, lapping at your hole like a dehydrated villager kneeling at a prosperous fountain, your skin pasty and so so hot.

He lapped at your pussy a few more times, up and down, ensuring he got his fill for the evening as faint tremors wracked your body in the aftershocks of his giving nature. You were flat on the bed now, belly sore from the tightness it held for so long, legs limp and body spent as you panted gently, heart throbbing in your ears.

You managed to lazily caress his sweaty hair though as Bruce surfaced from between your legs, face glistening and lips sore and pink. He looked manic, hair pulled and tangled and messily scattered on his face yet he seemed to be glowing at the same time, like he had never felt so alive and it made you want to giggle.

He sniffled, looking up at you with an impish grin, the taste of you lingering in his mouth and staining his nose. His hands fondly massaged your shaking thighs, noting your wrecked appearance and tired eyes, your sweaty skin flushed and warm.

He couldn’t help it as he glanced down at the mess he made, your slippery wet folds and the large patch of wetness staining his sheets.

“Mrs. Wayne, pardon my brashness of course,” He said almost sarcastically, breathless and rugged, an amused smile quirked on his lips as he leaned forward and embraced your hand with his, “but you taste utterly divine.”

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @little-miss-chaoss — I hope it’s okay I tagged you, you said you wanted to be tagged in everything 😭🙌🏻

[lowkeyerror]

I think I’m gonna need some more Selina Kyle IMMEDIATELY PLEASE

Maybe a cute Drabble on how you guys met like meet cute but obviously in a way that makes sense with Selina. Like she thinks you just want to be with her for one night and leave but turns out your in it for the long haul and want to actually be in a relationship. And just a lot of cute fluffy interactions and all the pet names 🥰

Every Night

Word count: 651

Notes: pure fluff, lil drabble, not my gif

DC Masterlist

The first time you laid eyes on Selina, you felt as though cupid had shot an arrow directly into your chest. You were at a club, your friends invited you for a night out and refused to let you decline the invitation.

It was sheer luck that the woman had been already looking at you. Nerves hit you hard when she approached you.

The first thing she said was," This doesn't really look like your scene, sweetheart."

" It's not."

" Then how about me and you go somewhere else," she suggested.

Y/n tilts her head as she thinks. Something Selina found extremely adorable.

" I don't know if it's smart for me to go anywhere in Gotham with a hot stranger that I've just met in a club."

Selina chuckles," Pretty and smart, well isn't that a dangerous combo. I'm Selina and I promise I'm as trustworthy as I am attractive."

For some reason, your gut was telling you to leave with this woman. Your senses were fighting hard, but your heart was too curious. So you left with her that night, and it was the best decision you had ever made.

Selina showed you finer things in life, things that you were certain only Gotham elitists had access to. She also showed you the beauty hidden in the slums of the town. That was the duality of Selina.

She was charming and flirtatious. It was impossible for the night to end up anywhere except with you under her.

Part of her expected you to be gone in the morning. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised to find you curled up in her arms, snoring lightly.

She took the time to really get a good look at your features. Selina had an eye for valuable things, and in that moment she was fairly certain that you were the most valuable thing she ever laid her eyes on.

" I'd say something snarky about a staring problem, but I like it when you look at me," your voice had a twinge of morning rasp to it.

" Well, you managed to surprise me. You know, I usually wake up to an empty bed." Selina lightly traced patterns on your arm.

" I find that hard to believe." Your eyes tried to lock on hers, but she's focused on the patterns she's making.

" You'd be surprised."

You took her hand in yours," I'd stay here until you asked me to leave."

Selina let a genuine laugh tumble out of her lips," I was that good, huh?"

Your face heated up at the insinuation," I- you were, but you're a lot more than just good in bed. I find myself wanting to know everything about you."

" Oh really," her eyes finally snapped up to yours, and you find yourself melting.

" Really… Let me make you breakfast?"

It was an innocent question that once again caught Selina off guard.

" Are you going to burn down my kitchen?"

You chuckled gently," No, I'm actually pretty good in the kitchen. I can make anything you want."

" Is there a catch to this?"

You thought for a moment," The catch is that you have to go on a date with me."

Selina kissed the tip of your nose," That all, sweetheart?"

"That's all I want."

Selina pretended to think about it, but her mind was made up the second you asked her. Instead of answering your question directly, she responded with her breakfast order," Ham and cheese omelet, don't short me on the bell peppers or green onions, Y/n."

You pecked her lips before rolling out of the bed," Yes, chef."

Selina sighed blissfully as you left the room. She really liked you, and that was rare for her. She wanted you to know everything about her, even her alter ego. Catwoman would spoil you with all of your heart's desires, she wouldn't be able to help herself.

Anything for her girl.

[rebelliousstories]

Finally got around to watching The Batman (2022). While it’s not the Bale Batman, or Batfleck, I still thoroughly enjoyed the new interpretation of all the characters we know and love.

Requests are now open for:

Batman/Bruce Wayne

Selina Kyle/ Catwoman

I could be talked into making fics for other characters though…

So ya know, jut like… have at it.

[sunsburns]

not you too (ii).

pairing: jason todd x ex vigilante!reader

summary: after spending days trying to crack a case that's starting to haunt gotham, you've reached nowhere but a dead end. now, all of a sudden jason todd wants to talk and nothing could've prepared you for what he's asking from you and in hours your life just flips.

or: you never would've thought that taking this case would've caused so much fucking trouble.

word count: 7.1k+

warnings: mentions of violence, gore, death, major character death, blood, angst, reader is super stubborn, jason is lowkey an asshole, damian being damian, you don't need to read part one to get this lol

The next few days passed in a haze as you threw yourself back into your routine, trying to shake off Jason’s visit. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, his voice still echoed in your mind, his figure leaving a dark red stain in your memories and on your carpet, reminding you of all the things you couldn’t forget. You told yourself you had to focus; you couldn’t afford any distractions, not when Gordon especially with the case Gordon had dropped on your desk that morning.

The file was thicker than usual, the weight of it unsettling. Gordon hadn’t said a word when he handed it to you, just a slight nod as he left the precinct floor.

Usually, a note scrawled in his familiar handwriting was tucked inside. "Would be a shame if this got in the wrong hands," it would read, a crude smiley face scrawled beneath the words.

You knew Gordon's system—files left just so in his office, waiting for the quiet turn of dusk so the Bat could collect them under the cover of night. But he was slipping these directly to you now, his trust implicit.

But there was no silly note this time.

And what made you pause was the material itself: crime scene photos, and not the kind you'd pass off to Batman with a nod and a handshake. No, these were disturbing, brutal enough that even in Gotham, they warranted concern.

No usual suspect, no familiar mugshot of some abuser that needed to get beat up by the Bat or his birds; instead, it held haunting images of bodies, each more graphic than the last.

You scanned through the pages, your stomach churning. Each victim had been carefully posed, twisted grotesquely, as though some sadistic artist had orchestrated each shot. Their eyes were gone, darkness where they once were, tears of blood coating their cheeks, mouths twisted in gasps or grimaces. The blood was still dark in the photos, pooling and splattered, smeared in a way that almost looked intentional.

The victim profiles had a disturbing similarity—they were known to have ties to the criminal underworld, men and women whose names you faintly recognized from past reports and even your past when you used to run rooftops at night alongside under another alias. But they’d never gone down like this.

This wasn’t an accident, nor the signature style of the usual Gotham criminals. This was personal, with an intensity that cut deep, a method to every violent stroke. As you turned the page, each new image seemed more deranged than the last, the brutality escalating in what felt like a sick crescendo.

This killer wanted attention.

Almost a week had passed since you first opened that file, and despite your best efforts, sleep had been elusive, as though every image from the case clung to the back of your eyelids. Each night, you’d lie awake in the dark, replaying the grainy, haunting crime scene photos in your mind, the details sharper each time you thought of them. The taste of coffee on your tongue had grown stale, and bitter, as you poured yourself another cup just to make it through.

It was Friday again, and the precinct was as chaotic as ever. Phones rang, the background chatter of detectives comparing notes, typing reports, and bantering.

It was Gotham’s white noise, but for you, it barely broke through the pressure building in your head. You sat at your desk, bent over a stack of notes from the latest case briefing, trying to pretend the room’s sounds didn’t grate on you. This killer had changed the routine, breaking through the monotony of cases that always felt solvable, if not predictable.

You wonder when Gordon will give you the green light to hand the papers over to Batman.

Just another Friday. That’s what you told yourself as you tapped your pen on the desk, skimming through yet another detail on the case. But your mind kept circling back to that first folder, Gordon’s barely there glance as he dropped it on your desk without explanation.

Across from you, your partner tossed you a knowing look. He was holding another file, new and thick like they always seemed to be lately. He gave you a little shrug, pushing the folder toward you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re the lucky winner today. Courtesy of Gordon. You’ve got yourself a special addition.”

You sighed, muttering, "Fuck off," but took the file anyway.

Flipping it open, you braced yourself for what you might find, already steeling yourself against the shock. Just as you suspected, another crime scene, another gruesome display, and yet another criminal with a dark past—a past that made them seem almost deserving of what had happened to them. This killer was doing his work publicly now, practically begging for the precinct’s attention. As you flipped through, the images seemed to scream at you, vivid, twisted displays of violence so calculated it felt sickeningly theatrical.

You’d seen it in person last night, called out to the scene when you and your partner happened to be nearby on patrol. It was a bakery in Old Gotham, the call coming in after midnight when the owner discovered the body dumped in the alley out back. The scent of old pastries mixed with the acrid bite of death, and you remembered the bile rising in your throat as you stepped closer, squinting under the harsh glow of police lights. Your instincts had told you to look away, but you forced yourself to examine the details. If you looked away, you’d miss something crucial: the jaggedness of the cuts, the wild angles of the wounds. They weren’t clean, but deliberate, like an artist who’d chosen chaos as his medium.

"Feels kinda like déjà vu, no?" Your partner’s voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the bustling chaos of the precinct.

“Hm?” You glanced at him, distracted

He perked up as you met his gaze, leaning forward with a grim look. "The bodies—don’t they remind you of something?"

You stared, waiting. You felt sluggish, as if the endless coffees you’d downed had backfired, leaving you hollow and wired. Sleep had been a fleeting luxury.

Detective Andy leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. "Red Hood."

A chill shot down your spine. “What?”

He pointed to a photo, tapping it thoughtfully. "The patterns. Big murder scenes, violent displays. Doesn’t it remind you of when Red Hood first came on the scene?"

You fumbled for a response, your mind stumbling. You hadn’t been in the GCPD during Red Hood’s first appearance; you hadn’t even joined the academy yet. It wasn’t so long ago, just a few years back, but it still felt like ages.

You do remember those days, though.

You’d been younger, wilder, and always running right along the edge of Gotham’s underworld. Back then, you’d worked for Selina Kyle, a phantom in leather with a knack for pretty gems and diamonds. Under her tutelage, you’d learned to break into penthouses, crack safes in under five minutes, and disappear without a trace. All the things Gordon had to turn a blind eye to when he personally hired you.

You remember one night, a supposed to be an easy job, just a simple heist in the wealthier parts of Gotham. Selina had given you explicit instructions: break in, grab the diamonds and get out before anyone was the wiser. But Gotham had a way of twisting “easy” jobs into something darker, something that left marks on you that never truly faded.

It had been just after midnight, the air was crisp and heavy with the city’s usual grit. You were supposed to head down Boulevard, make a left by the old brick post office, and hit the target—an art collector with more money than sense. But a wrong turn later, you found yourself in a different kind of darkness, somewhere off the beaten path, where street lamps flickered and silence took on.

You’d felt it before you’d seen him—a presence, sharp and cold, lingering like a predator waiting to pounce. At first, you thought it was just nerves after you realized you had just broken into the wrong apartment. All you could think was: shit.

You’d handled your share of tense moments, after all; but this was something else. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, a warning you hadn’t felt in years. You were no stranger to danger, but this was a different kind of threat, something that felt personal.

Then you saw him.

At first, it was just the faint gleam of red in the darkness, like a shard of blood against the shadows. But as he stepped into the faint light, you saw him more clearly—a figure clad in leather, the infamous helmet covering his face, standing over a man slumped on his knees, visibly trembling. In the Red Hood’s hand was something you couldn’t immediately make out, but as he turned slightly, the dim light cast a glint off it, and you realized with a shock that he was holding a head—a severed head.

You froze.

The man was pleading, begging for his life in a low, trembling voice. But the Red Hood only tilted his head, silent. There was no rage in his stance, only a dark calm that made the scene feel disturbingly deliberate.

You could see his fingers flex around the hilt of a blade, the kind used to skin prey, and he held it with a confidence that said he’d done this before—and would do it again without a second thought.

You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. The man’s pleas grew louder, more desperate, words spilling out in garbled, terrified sentences, but Red Hood was unmoved. Then, in one swift, final motion, he silenced him.

You weren’t sure what made you react then, but a sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it. Red Hood’s head snapped up, his gaze locking onto yours.

Your heart thundered as you ducked out the window, into the shadows, pressing yourself against the rough brick, willing yourself to become invisible. You knew better than to run; Selina had taught you that too. Quick movements drew attention, made you a target. And you weren’t exactly eager to test your skills against this fucking guy.

As you held your breath, you could hear his footsteps drawing closer, a slow, haunting rhythm that echoed down the narrow street.

For a second, it felt like he would find you. You could practically feel his gaze searching the darkness, his eyes tracking every inch of the alleyway. The fear was unlike anything you’d felt before.

And then he stopped. The footsteps paused, and there was a long silence. When he turned away and his steps faded back into the apartment, you felt your shoulders relax. It wasn’t relief, not fully. You’d seen something you weren’t supposed to, and you had a feeling Red Hood had let you walk away for a reason.

A part of you, distant but insistent, wondered if Jason could be behind these new killings. The thought twisted uncomfortably in your mind before you dismissed it. Jason was… different now. He had to be. He was reckless, sure, but this? Even if he wasn't currently on good terms with Bruce, he’d never return to those ways.

Right?

“Didn’t think of that,” you lied, the words tasting hollow as you struggled to find a convincing way to deflect Andy’s suspicion.

The last thing you needed was for anyone to start seriously considering Red Hood as a suspect. Wanted posters of that stupid red helmet already lined the precinct’s walls

Andy laughed a half-hearted chuckle. “Guess old habits die hard, huh?”

You could barely crack a smile, but you tried your best.

A voice behind you interrupted the uneasy silence. “Detective?” You turned to see a uniformed officer standing stiffly at the edge of your desk. “You have a visitor at the front desk.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. No one was supposed to come by today—maybe your mother had stopped by on one of her random check-ins. The officer’s expression, however, was tense, and you felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The precinct wasn’t exactly an open-door policy; even visitors to officers needed a reason. A visitor, especially unexpected, was rarely a good sign.

You nodded, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. Setting the file aside, you rose, your heart pounding faintly as you walked through the maze of desks and toward the elevator, half-convinced that this "visitor" was your mother showing up with her usual worried expression and a container of food because you’d forgotten to call her recently.

But the moment the elevator doors opened, your heart faltered.

Jason. Standing right there in the precinct lobby, dressed casually in a worn leather jacket, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other resting casually on the front counter as he flashed an ID—one that was definitely fake.

Of course, it wasn't real, because Jason Todd has been dead for who knows how many years.

You used to think that Jason wasn't stupid enough to walk into a police department swinging around a fake ID with a stupid name like Trevor Duncan.

It was that same old card he used to keep back when the two of you were together. He’d only ever had to use it a handful of times, mostly when he got pulled over for speeding on his bike, but he always had it ready, a smooth grin on his face, acting as if he had nothing to hide. But now? Now it looked out of place, almost surreal. Jason Todd standing here as if he were just anyone off the street.

As he looked up, his eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before he offered a familiar, almost casual, “Hey.”

You took a sharp breath, trying to steady yourself. Words failed you, stuck somewhere between disbelief and frustration. Jason never showed up here. Not as the Red Hood, and certainly not as himself. Not after the way he left things a week ago.

Some fucking nerve he has.

You never wanted to strangle someone so badly.

Glancing over your shoulder, you moved closer to him, lowering your voice. “Jason,” you hissed, barely able to hide the shock. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re—”

“Wanted, yeah, I know,” he just shrugged, an almost defiant glint in his eyes, the same one that used to drive you mad. He lets you grip his arm and pull him toward a quiet corner of the lobby, away from prying eyes. “Technically, that’s Red Hood who’s wanted, not Jason—”

“Don’t. What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cut him off, voice barely a whisper but heated nonetheless.

His face hardened slightly, his voice dropping. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Right, of course. Important. And yet, it was unnerving how familiar he looked like this, standing just close enough that the faint scent of leather and gunpowder hit you, reminders of nights spent together in places you weren’t supposed to be.

Your gaze flicked around the room, anxiety prickling your spine. “What do you want, Jason? If Gordon sees you…”

“I think I’m being set up,” he said abruptly.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What?”

“The murders,” he continued, voice steady but jaw clenched. “They’re not—it’s not me.”

“I know that.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know—?”

“How do you know about—”

Jason scoffed, crossing his arms as his gaze bore into you. “C’mon. Don’t act like it’s some big secret behind closed doors. This shit is happening in my alley. Of course, I fucking know. And sooner or later, a lot more people are gonna know.” He paused, “And besides… Grayson might’ve filled me in on a few things I missed.”

Of course. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Dick had called you a few nights ago, asking for an extra set of eyes on a case he’d brought back from Blüdhaven. You’d tried to brush it off as usual, but there’d been something familiar about the weapon in the photos he’d sent, the way the scars on the victims matched the fresh crime scenes here in Gotham. You’d let it slip—against your better judgment—that those wounds looked eerily familiar.

You sighed, trying to push down the wave of frustration. Jason knowing more than you was one thing, but Dick going behind your back to clue him in? That threw you off.

“Right,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead. “Okay. So what is this? You just came here to make a statement? Give an alibi?”

“No.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Then what?”

He glanced down the hallway behind you, tense, as if he half-expected someone to overhear. Before you could turn to look, he grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, his expression unreadable.

“Listen—”

“I’m listening,” you replied, shrugging out of his grasp.

His voice dropped to a murmur, and you had to lean in to catch it. “I think you’re in danger.”

You scoffed, pulling back. “What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you noticed? The people turning up dead—this isn’t random.”

“I know that—”

“No, you don’t. Have you actually looked into their criminal records?”

“Yeah.” You spat it out, feeling a surge of defensiveness. Jason’s words were cold as if he was accusing you. This asshole, came in here, acting like he knows your job better than you do, acting like you haven’t pored over every detail, every link, every goddamn scrap of evidence that’s crossed your desk. “I looked into all of it. They’ve got some minor offences. A few of them were tied to Randolf, but they’re hardly worth anyone’s attention. I thought you took down Randolf Industries months ago.”

“I did.” His jaw tightened, and you know him well enough to recognize the anger in his clenched teeth. “But that doesn’t mean they’re done with us.”

You almost hate how much sense he makes.

“What does this have to do with me?”

Jason’s gaze shifted, softening just a fraction, and that subtle pity—pity for you—lit a fire in your chest. He’s looking at you like he’s sorry like he cares, like he still feels something. And for a split second, you wished he’d go back to hating you. “You worked under Randolf.” he said, reminding you of what you’d rather forget. “You were at their last event. A gala… an auction, remember?”

“Jason, I’ve worked dozens of events like that. Please stop wasting my time.”

He shook his head, frustration seeping into his voice. “Think, okay? It was an auction. You had a mission there. Probably to take some fucking diamonds or something. The night ended with a shootout in the south hall.”

The memory saw a slap in the face. You saw flashes of that night—the glittering, polished faces of Gotham’s elite, the diamonds, the weight of them, heavy in your hands. You remembered the gunfire, the chaos that tore through the hall. The blood. But to you, it had been just another job gone slightly wrong, another task to be done and forgotten. Sure, it may have been the end of Randolf but you never really liked the guy anyway.

Jason was still watching you, his expression dark. “Every person who’s turned up dead was there that night. And they all had ties to Randolf. And I know you used to do some of his dirty work with Silena. Whoever’s behind this isn’t stopping until they’ve crossed off everyone on their list… including Silena. Including you.”

Fuck.

You swallowed hard, clenching your fists. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. Jason Todd, standing in your precinct, coming into your life after months of silence—after shutting you out, after telling you to keep your nose out of his work—telling you now that you should listen to him, that you should be worried, that you were doing your job wrong. Who does he think he is?

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust his judgment, but you were sick of hearing it. He used to shame you for what you do for work, hated that you had turned against him.

“I’ll look into it, I guess. But I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.” Your voice shook, but you pressed on, words spilling out before you could hold them back. “You always hated what I do—if it was stealing or fighting crime or getting my badge. Now, what, you’re here to play saviour? To swoop in like none of that matters anymore?”

Your eyes met his, and there was a look there that almost made you falter. It’s that mix of distress and conviction, a look that carries the weight of all the things he never says. You recognize it immediately because it’s the look he used to give you—before everything turned sour. But now, it feels almost mocking. Desperate and pleading, like he’s here to convince you of something, to beg you to understand.

He doesn’t say anything though.

It just fueled the anger that’s simmering in your chest. The thought that he could come here, to your work, and act as though he’s still allowed to care as if he’s entitled to it—that he can swoop in and remind you of things you don’t want to feel.

But he must care, right?

If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be here, right? If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be this close, standing right in front of you, risking everything to warn you about a threat he thinks exists. He could’ve just called, could’ve left a message when you purposely didn’t answer.

He could’ve sent a text and kept himself safe, kept himself out of your life. Holy shit, you knew him well enough to know he’s capable of watching from the shadows, lurking without getting involved. But he was standing there, in a police precinct of all the fucking places, surrounded by detectives who would do anything to bring the Red Hood to justice if they realized he was right in front of them.

He’s here, looking at you like he’d do anything to pull you out of this.

The thought wrapped itself around you, both comforting and infuriating. God, you wanted to kill this guy.

“I… I don’t know what you’re asking of me right now, Jason.”

He searched your face, frustration flickering across his expression like he was fighting the urge to shake you, to make you see something you just couldn’t. His mouth opened and closed as though he was running through every possible way to explain himself, to say whatever he came here to say, but the words... the words kind of just... died there. They died in his throat, stuck.

And now he looked… scattered, disarmed, like he hadn’t thought you’d put up this much of a fight.

“I…” he started, his voice dropping almost to a grumbled whisper. “I want you… you need to get out of town.”

You stared at him.

And you stared and stared and just kept staring.

And you probably stood there for a minute or two before biting back a bitter laugh.

Out of town?

He couldn’t be serious.

Your patience, already thin, was practically shredded at this point. You’d spent years building your career here—your life here, and he wanted you to drop everything because he said so? Because he had suddenly come back with some vague, half-assed—a fucking hunch—warning? Because he had a suspicion—with no real proof—that you could—possibly—might be in danger because of an old shady job you barely remember?

The words barely registered at first, almost as if they were so absurd that your brain refused to even process them. You blinked, your mind catching on his audacity—his audacity—to just show up out of nowhere and think he could tell you what to do. This man had left you, shut you out, made his choice to push you away, and now he thought he could waltz back in and tell you to pack up and leave the life you’d clawed your way into?

“What?”

“Go to Metropolis,” he urged, more insistent now as if saying the name of a different city was going to convince you. “Anywhere. Just… get out of Gotham until I’ve figured this all out.”

His words hit you wrong, each one stacking up like bricks in a wall between you. “Until you’ve figured it out?” you repeated, eyes narrowing, glaring.

“Yeah,” he muttered, the confidence slipping. He was realizing now, seeing just how badly this was going. “Just… just lay low until then.”

“Lay low?” you spat out, barely containing a scoff. “Jason, I can’t just drop everything and leave. I’m not some pawn you can just move around. Do you get that? This is my job. My case. My fucking case. I’ve earned every inch of ground I stand on here.”

He tried to say something else, tried to push back, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“You think I don’t know the risks?” you continued, stubbornly digging your heels in. “I knew the risks when I took it. I know what I’m fucking doing.” You paused, the words heavy and unyielding. “Do you have any idea how it would look if I just disappeared because things got tough?”

The frustration in his expression deepened, but there was something else there now, something almost pleading. He looked at you like he wanted to say more like he needed to make you see something he was too damn stubborn to say outright. You could tell he didn’t want to fight you on this, that he was wishing you’d just listen, but that only made you stand your ground harder, and dig your heels in deeper.

He was the same Jason he’d always been: relentless, unyielding, pushing at you even when he knew you wouldn’t budge. And you? You were no different—just as stubborn, just as unwilling to give an inch. It was one of the reasons things had fallen apart between you. Two forces constantly colliding, too similar in their defiance yet too different in their methods. Like opposite sides of a magnet, doomed to repel each other despite every effort to hold on.

“I don’t care how it looks,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, but there was a crack in his resolve. “You’re not getting it. This isn’t about the case—this is about you.”

“Me?” The word escaped before you could stop it, sharper than you intended. You squared your shoulders, leaning into the bite of your tone. “If this is about me, then you should know better than to think I’d just leave. I don’t care what you think. If Randolf’s involved or not, this is my case, Jason. My responsibility. And I’m going to solve it, no matter the risks—because that’s my job. And I’m really fucking good at it.”

“Good at it?” His laugh was low and bitter like he couldn’t believe you were still fighting him on this. “You’re not listening. You’re going to die, and you’re standing here talking about responsibility like that’s going to protect you.”

You squared your jaw, rolling your eyes and scoffing.

“You sound just like him.” The words left Jason's mouth before he could stop them, his voice raw with anger and something deeper, something almost… horrified. “You sound just like Bruce.”

The words landed heavier than you expected, and you felt them settle uncomfortably in your chest. He meant it. Jason wasn’t just being dramatic; he wasn’t here to stir up trouble or drag you into another one of his wild theories. He was scared. Scared for you in a way that made your stomach twist uncomfortably because he still cared—too much.

You could hear your own heartbeat in the silence, the weight of what he’d just said hanging between you like a physical thing.

Bruce Wayne. Batman.

You? Similar to him?

The was new.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a voice called your name from down the hallway. Jason turned, his body instinctively tensing like he was preparing for a fight, his broad shoulders blocking your view until you leaned to the side.

It was Andy, jogging toward you with a grin that faltered the second he saw Jason. His eyes narrowed, flicking between you and the man standing far too close, his hands gripping your arms like they belonged there. You don’t remember when he held you.

“Uh… bad time?” Andy asked.

Jason let go of you immediately, stepping back but not far enough. His glare hardened as he sized up Andy like he was trying to determine whether he was a threat—or maybe just because he didn’t like the way Andy had interrupted.

“Yes,” Jason muttered flatly, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“No,” you said firmly, “He was just leaving. Weren’t you, Trevor?”

Jason’s head snapped toward you, his jaw tightening at the fake name. “Right,” he bit out, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he turned on his heel. His broad shoulders stiffened as he stalked off.

Andy watched him go, raising an eyebrow as he turned back to you. “Trevor?” he asked, the question loaded with curiosity.

“Don’t ask,” you said quickly. But your hands trembled slightly as you stuffed them into your pockets, Jason’s words echoing in your mind: You’re going to die.

You cleared your throat, your voice much steadier than you felt. “What’s up, Andy?”

He smiled a warm, familiar thing that barely reached his eyes. “I thought we could pick up a call. Something small, just to ease your mind. I’ve noticed how tense you’ve been, so I figured something like a missing bike or a dog would help take your mind off things.”

You hesitated, the idea of a mundane, easy case almost too good to pass up. You’d been running on fumes for days, your mind still tangled in threads of murder, mystery, and now, whatever the hell Jason was trying to get across.

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed, a little too quickly, though a quiet relief followed your words. The idea of a short break, even a small distraction, felt like just the kind of thing you needed. Still, your instincts told you to keep pushing, to go back upstairs and keep raking through the case files, questioning witnesses, tweaking the map with the locations of the bodies. You couldn’t shake the sense that you were missing something—something crucial.

But Andy’s eyes were a little too glazed over like he’d stared at one too many corpses, and maybe he needed this as much as you did. You could tell by the way his shoulders sagged that he was running on empty.

Maybe a clearer mind would help, you thought.

You reached out and grabbed the thinner file from his hand, glancing over it briefly. “Okay, let’s go,” you said, a bit of your usual confidence slipping back into your voice, even as the anxiety from the case lingered.

Andy’s grin was wide, a flash of his usual spirit. He waved the keys in front of your face like a kid with a new toy. “Fuck yeah!” His excitement was enough to snap you out of your darker thoughts, at least for a moment.

You just hoped Gordon wouldn’t kill you for this detour.

---

The drive to the supposed “missing dog” case felt like it dragged on forever.

Andy hummed along to whatever random song played on the radio, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the case you had been working on. Your mind buzzed with the same unanswered questions that had been hanging over you all day.

What was Jason’s real point? And more pressing, what was really going on with the bodies? Randolf, the name haunted you. Have you been missing something this whole time?

The moment Andy stopped the car, your stomach dropped. The “case” turned out to be a dead end, no missing dog, no clues, just another pointless distraction. You both spent hours going over the same circle of leads that led nowhere, retracing your steps, looking at things from different angles, but it was all for nothing.

Andy finally threw his hands up in frustration. “Nothing,” he muttered, clearly over it. “This is a waste of time.”

You swallowed hard, trying to push the growing feeling of dread away. You were already getting that itchy, restless feeling again—the same one that told you you’d just wasted precious hours when you could have been moving forward on the real case. “I know,” you said quietly, nodding absently. “But maybe we missed something. I think I should—”

“No,” Andy cut you off, his voice blunt, but it wasn’t unkind. “It’s time to call it.”

You wanted to argue, to push on, but his tone made it clear that it wasn’t worth it anymore.

---

Andy had left you at your apartment, and by the time you reached the door, exhaustion was pulling you down like a weight. You fumbled with your keys, your thoughts disjointed, still tangled in the mess of the case that had led nowhere, hours wasted, your mind too worn to keep up.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you dropped your bag by your feet. The thought that had been haunting you all day echoed once again, a sharp, intrusive whisper. You’re going to die.

You’re going to die.

The words gnawed at you relentlessly, a constant hum that never stopped, lingering just beneath your conscious thoughts.

You sighed, trying to shake it off, but the dull ache in your chest remained. You slid off your shoes and left your jacket crumpled on the floor, not caring for the mess. Your apartment was quiet—too quiet. The stillness in the air felt wrong somehow, like something was out of place.

You reached for your phone in your pocket, the buzz startling you slightly. It wasn’t Gordon—who you expected to hear from—but a message from Silena.

Your fingers froze over the screen as you read: Are you in Gotham? We should get lunch or something.

The message didn’t make sense. You hadn’t heard from Silena in a few days, and the last time you checked, she was halfway across the country, doing who knows what. The timing of it unnerved you.

You shook your head, trying to push away the instinct to feel like something was wrong, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips despite yourself. Silena was one of the few people you trusted, but the oddity of the message made you pause.

Yeah, I’m around. Let me know when you’re free.

You tossed your phone onto the counter and stepped into the living room. The space was dim, lit only by the soft spill of moonlight from the windows. The glow from the streetlights outside filtered in, casting long, strange shadows across the floor, and stretching the furniture in odd directions.

The silence was muggy. It felt like something was waiting for you, something just outside your perception, making the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

You’re going to die.

You stepped deeper into the room, your senses sharpening as you instinctively reached under a chair where your gun was always kept. Your fingers brushed the cool metal, and your grip tightened. It wasn’t like you to jump to conclusions, but something about this moment made you feel like you needed the reassurance.

You paused, listening carefully, your breath steady. The shadows in the room shifted slightly—flickering, moving. The moonlight played tricks on your eyes, making the figures dance just beyond your sight. You narrowed your eyes, peering through the dark.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die.

The movement was subtle, but you saw it again. There were figures standing just beyond the edge of the light, still as statues. You couldn’t be sure, but something told you that they weren’t supposed to be there. You raised the gun instinctively, aiming it in the direction of the shadows, your finger lightly on the trigger.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die.

And then, as if on cue, they moved.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die.

Two figures stepped forward, emerging from the darkness.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to—

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze, staring into the dim light as the figures came into sharper focus. It wasn’t an intruder, wasn’t some random threat.

It was Robin, eyes cold and calculating as always, his posture rigid as he crossed his arms. Beside him, standing just out of the reach of the light, was Red Robin, his body language tight with tension. His mask didn’t hide the unease that flickered in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched slightly.

It wasn’t the first time the birds had slipped into your apartment unannounced—Jason had certainly made himself at home recently—but there was something different about this. Something formal, purposeful. The silence was heavy, the air thick with the weight of unspoken things. It wasn’t a casual visit, not even close.

They didn’t come to grab a snack from your fridge or hang around on your couch, not this time.

For the first time all day, the familiar tension in your chest felt like a vice, suffocating you. You lowered your gun slowly, the metal was cold and heavy in your hands.

Robin gave you a quick nod, his eyes darting to the weapon. He made a small, annoyed sound under his breath—TT—but said nothing as you deactivated the safety and set it back down where it belonged. The tension in the air didn’t fade, though. It only deepened.

“Our apologies if we startled you,” Robin said, his voice tight, almost mechanical, like he had rehearsed the words a hundred times before they came out. His tone lacked its usual sharpness, and something about that made you frown.

But the formality of it all—the serious way they stood, barely moving, as though waiting for something—made your gut twist.

“No worries...” you muttered.

You reached for the lamp on the side table, flipping it on. The room flooded with warm, yellow light, and you blinked against the sudden brightness. Robin’s face was still shadowed by the low light, but you could see his face better now, the sharp edges of his gaze unwavering. Red Robin stepped into the light fully, his jaw clenched, the skin on his lower lip raw from constant biting.

“Damian, Tim,” you greeted them, but the words felt hollow.

Damian didn’t say anything, his arms still crossed, his posture unwavering. He only tilted his head slightly, observing you.

Tim stepped forward, his footsteps muffled by the carpet. The air seemed to thicken with every passing second as he came closer, his expression unreadable beneath his mask. When he spoke, his voice was softer than Damian’s, but there was a finality to it.

“We need to talk,” he said, his tone low, heavy with meaning. “Maybe you should sit down.”

You stood frozen where you were. “What’s wrong?”

Tim hesitated, his gaze flickering briefly to Damian before he let out a slow breath. “We know about your past with Selina Kyle, we know what she meant to you,” he started, the words heavy, “and we thought you should be one of the first to know… She was found dead in her apartment less than an hour ago.”

Your world seemed to halt.

The words didn’t land right. They didn’t make sense. Selina Kyle? She was—she had been so alive in your messages, in your mind. You had just texted her, just now—how could she have been dead? How could this be real?

Your breath caught in your throat, and the room tilted for a second. “That’s… impossible,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. How could she be—?

Tim’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes stayed serious. “That’s what we thought too.”

His words felt distant, almost muffled like they were coming from the other end of a tunnel. You couldn’t process what he was saying. None of it made sense. Selina—dead? You had just texted her. She’d sent a message barely five minutes ago, her words still fresh on your screen, vivid proof of life. Your phone felt like it weighed a thousand pounds now, sitting on the counter where you had tossed it, mocking you with its silence.

Tim shifted uncomfortably, dragging your attention back to him. “The cops should be arriving at the scene about now. But, uh, B wants to see you. He was the one who…” Tim hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “He was the one who found her. He said—”

You stopped listening. The words faded into a hollow hum, and your mind spiralled. Selina was supposed to be untouchable. Smart, agile, always one step ahead of the chaos in Gotham. And now, she was just… gone? And you were just... supposed to live with that? The thought slammed into you like a train, impossible to reconcile with the image of her that lived in your memory: vibrant, sharp-tongued, alive.

Jason’s warning echoed in your head, louder now. You’re going to die.

Your stomach churned. Jason wasn’t exactly known for his optimism, but there was a pattern here, a thread you couldn’t ignore. The timing, the dread you’d been carrying all day—it all felt too calculated, too deliberate. As though the universe—or someone—was playing a sick game, tightening a noose you hadn’t even realized was there.

Your legs felt weak, and you sank into the armchair beside you, the cushions swallowing you whole. You stared at the floor, the edges of your vision blurring as you tried to process the words. Nothing added up. How could she be gone when she’d just messaged you? Had you imagined it? No, you couldn’t have. You’d replied.

Your hand twitched toward your phone, desperate for confirmation, but the thought of seeing her name on the screen—knowing it could never light up again—made your throat close up.

Tim’s voice broke through the haze, but you only caught the last thing he said. “You’re gonna have to come with us.”

It didn’t sound like a suggestion.

And Jason. Jason had warned you. You’d brushed it off as paranoia, his usual tendency to jump to the worst conclusions, but now… Now you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew something you didn’t. Something he hadn’t said.

You pushed yourself upright, your legs shaky beneath you. “I need to see it,” you said, your voice stronger now despite the storm raging inside you. “I need to see her apartment.”

Tim and Damian exchanged a look, and Damian had a wicked smirk on his face. He turned toward the open window, his cape swishing as he moved. “Try to keep up.”

[hxney-lemcn]

Affections + First Kiss — General! Scarecrow, Riddler, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Catwoman x gn! reader

summery: affection and first kiss headcanons.

tw: mentions of abuse (physical and verbal), mentions of toxic dynamics

a/n: I've never wrote headcanons for multiple characters in one thing before, so enjoy! I love them all.

wc: 2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Scarecrow

❥Jonathan wasn’t used to a kind touch. Being bullied growing up, being beaten by the bat. No, all he knew was the harsh touch of a fist. The relentless shoves. The purpling of bruises that always showed after. The red blood that would drip from his nose. The burning hatred that steadily grew towards those who wronged him.

❥So when you came into his life, he would flinch if you raised a hand. He would unconsciously back away. The warmth in his heart that you stirred was unusual to him, a feeling he’s never felt towards anyone. He was used to the bitterness after an interaction, not longing. 

❥You eased him into it. Only when you two started dating did he ever think twice about your touch. He knew you held back your affections. He watched you lift a hand up, only to bring it back down to your side. And to Jon, that meant the world. He felt relief when you didn’t push him into uncomfortable territory, and he respected you all the more for it.

❥Although a part of him wished you would hold him. Touch him. He wondered if your skin felt as soft as it looked. Though he also feared that your touch would sting, and the comfort you brought would be no more. No, he would never reach out first.

❥Starting out slow, he let you hold his shoulder. No matter how careful you’ve been for however long, you slipped slightly. It was a gesture not many think twice about. Holding onto someone's shoulder as you look over them, holding onto them for balance. It was only when you felt him tense under you, his ramblings pausing, that you realized your mistake. Yet, Jon had only reassured you that you did nothing wrong. 

❥Having realized that Jon seemed to open your touch, you continued. Lightly brushing your hands, shoulder touches, even just sitting closer. It was like you were single handedly rewiring Jon’s brain, teaching him that not all touch hurts. That he too deserves a kind hand. The flinching had dulled, and he would even look forward to you being near him. 

❥So when you finally got to kiss him? He was a dead man. You got him hook line and sinker. I hope you weren’t expecting to leave him any time soon, because after you opened him into a world of warm affection, he doesn’t want to let go. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Riddler

❥Touch is a big no no. Similar to Jonathan, Edward had been bullied from a young age. Teased and ridiculed, shoved and hit. If not from his peers, then from his own father. His world was cruel for as long as he could remember. In fact, his brain started to warp, perceiving the hits as a form of love, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

❥Edward Nygma is a touch starved man. He longs for the comforts others seem to get so seamlessly. Yet at the same time, he doesn’t want anyone touching him. Tap his shoulder if you dare.

❥You were no different, at first. You quickly caught on to his distaste of touch when he reprimanded someone for getting a little too friendly with him. But you managed to weasel your way into his estranged heart. With how respectful and kind you were, he quickly found himself ensnared with your affection. Even hands free you managed to boost his ego and make him feel, should he dare say, loved for. You gave him praise that he had longed for, which earned you a seat right by his side.

❥It was also partly to keep a closer eye on you. Part of him preened at your praise, and another was weary. Why were you so kind? He was a well known criminal, he knew better than to just believe you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart. Y’know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

❥I honestly don’t know how you deal with it. He always tries to catch you off guard with a riddle or puzzle. He pushes you away by ridiculing you and belittling you. Yet you won’t stop. You keep spilling his praises, and it’s so baffling to him. Yes, he is the smartest man in the world, but you managed to become a riddle. Good luck now.

❥When you first touched him, it was an innocent hug. He had managed to pull off a heist and got away from Batman without a scratch! Of course he had no doubts about his success, you didn’t either. When he got back to the hideout, you were clapping while singing his praises. Edward felt on top of the world, adrenaline rushing through his veins. When your arms wrapped around him, your scent clouding his thoughts, your warmth leaching into him, he found himself reciprocating.

❥Now, whether your dating or you’re just friends, it matters little to the green clad man. You had given him a taste of a touch he’s always longed for. And he realized that he’s more comfortable around you than he’d like to admit. He never reaches out first, but he’ll never turn you down if you want to hold his arm. 

❥His teasing towards you turns lighter, just as his heart feels. So when you finally seal the deal with a kiss, he’ll make sure you never slip through his fingers. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Harley Quinn

❥She will smother you with affection right out the bat. Hugs, hand holding, kisses, you name it. You don’t even have to date her for her to leave a smooch on your lips. Harley Quinn easily trusts people, and you’re no exception. She finds comfort in touch, so why should she deny herself it? She also finds it expresses her genuine affection for you in ways she couldn’t verbalize. 

❥If you don’t like PDA, please tell her right away. She doesn’t understand it, I mean why wouldn’t you want to show your love to the world? But she also doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you wanna keep it behind closed doors, she’ll try her best. But don’t be too surprised if she sneaks in a little smooch or hug if no one’s looking.

❥Harley Quinn is one of the most affectionate rogues out there. But it’s not always sunshine and rainbows with her. She had been in a seriously abusive relationship, and you have to help her remember that she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around you. That no matter the argument, you won’t raise your hand to strike her. It takes her a long time to come out of that headspace, if ever. It’s a good thing you’re by her side to help coax her into healthier practices. 

❥If we want to get a little darker, Harley may try to treat you like the Joker treated her. It’s scary to see her go from bubbly to dark. Her features twisted into a wicked sneer as she asks that you’ll never leave her. That no matter what, you’ll always love her. During these moments, you gotta stand up for yourself. She’s trying to gain a sense of control she never felt in her previous relationship, and you have to make her snap out of it. When she comes to and realizes what she just did, the look of utter terror in her eyes is the most heart wrenching thing. She’ll sob, pleading that she didn’t mean to, that she never wanted you to go through that, that she’s terrified of becoming him.

❥Please hug her, kiss her, squeeze her gently. She loves it. All Harley wants is to be loved and to love, and getting affection shows her how genuine you are and is the biggest comfort for her. Feeling your warmth, feeling the softness of your skin, it brings her peace. 

❥The first time you made the first move to kiss Harley, she nearly did a backflip. Her little sugar plum made the first move! I hope you didn’t have anything planned, because Harley won’t let you go for the rest of the day.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Poison Ivy

❥I’m not sure how you weren’t just killed or turned into one of her goons. She’s not one for humanity. She keeps a sharp eye on those who dare tread into her territory. There’s no way to beat around it. She drugs you, finding out what your true intentions are. It has to be something she deems worthy enough to keep you around. She barely puts up with Harley as it is. 

❥Once you gain your free will again, you have to continuously prove your loyalty. Of course she can guarantee it herself if she has to, but you’ve managed to catch her eye. So prove your worth to her, prove that her interest in you isn’t just a mistake. It will take a long time. She’s been wronged one too many times, and she won’t make that mistake again.

❥Even if you manage to gain her trust, she won’t drop her walls around you. Though she’s a bit nicer. Ivy knows that a person works better with praise, but she also means it deep down. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean, so don’t take her words for granted. Not that you really can when her perfume scent always seems to cloud your senses. 

❥You let Ivy make the first move when it comes to touch. For a seductress, she won’t touch you if she doesn’t have to. Not to mention the toxins that fill her blood. Who knew if one tap on her shoulder meant your certain doom…but maybe that was a bit of the thrill you loved when being by her side. Though you’ve seemed to find a small soft spot in her heart, right next to Harley Quinn. She wouldn’t tell you that though, best to leave you on your toes lest you get too comfortable. 

❥After going so long without a single touch from the green goddess, when she started playing with your hair, you found yourself seizing up. Ivy brushed her fingers through it so gently, yet all you could wonder is if it was finally over. If she grew bored of you, or if she started to find you bothersome. But her gentle reassurances lulled you. Her warm voice and gentle hands relaxed you. It was then that you realized her affections for you ran deeper than she led on.

❥You’re first kiss was electrifying. That underlying thrill that your life was held in her hands. That she killed men with the very action she committed tenderly with you. Yet deep down you knew she wouldn’t hurt you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Catwoman 

❥It's not easy catching her attention. She won’t settle for less than perfection. She is catwoman after all, she has a reputation to uphold. So when she looked at you, and I mean really looked at you, she decided why not have a little fun? Whether you’re a villain, anti-hero, vigilante, or civilian, she’ll take time out of her busy schedule to drop by.

❥She likes to give mixed signals. It keeps you far enough for her to feel in control, yet it also satiates her hunger. She’ll lean in real close, only to grab something from behind you type of beat. She loves to watch you become a stuttering mess, but she doesn’t mind if you banter back. It’s all a part of the fun.

❥No matter how close you seem to get, you’re somehow still a mile away from Selina. She slips away from your affection without you even realizing it. She always turns the moment into a suggestive one. If she left it tender, then it would be too real. It takes time for her to warm up to you and really trust you.

❥If anything, the first kiss happens before anything truly tender. The kiss catches you both off guard, neither sure who started it. Selina tries to wrap it into something that doesn’t make her heart stutter. Tries to turn it suggestively like she always does, but with the way you tenderly hold her cheeks, she feels herself melt. Finally, she succumbs to these feelings you managed to stir within her, and she isn’t sure if she wants to thank you or curse you out. Maybe she’ll settle for a dinner, tab on you of course.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Hot take, but can we please give Selina a break from being Bruce’s default love interest? The guy has a whole black book of fascinating women. How about a little variety for once?

Maybe just a quick Catwoman cameo or even a passing mention, but let’s dig into some of the other ladies in his life. I’m talking Andrea Beaumont, Silver St. Cloud (who got done dirty in Gotham), Julie Madison… Heck, even Dex from the The Batman prequel novel... Seriously, Bruce has more options than Selina, and it’s time to let them shine!

And please, please—if we ever get Talia again, can we for once cast her properly and give her a decent script? Because Nolan’s version? Yikes. Look, no shade to Marion Cotillard (she's great!), but casting a French actress as a character who's supposed to be Middle Eastern/Chinese??? I don’t know, man… that was certainly a choice.

Let’s just say, I’m praying for a casting miracle if they ever bring Talia back because she deserves better than that mess.