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hxney-lemcn · 4 months

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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.

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iliketangerines · 21 days

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Tangerine, can I request angst?

One wherein the reader is Shang Taung's minion who was sent to Liu Kang's timeline to disrupt their peace but fell for the Fire God instead because he helped her find herself. Like originally, the reader was like Harley Quinn towards Shang Tsung but Liu Kang helped her heal. Angst ensues when her origins were revealed and she was defeated by Titan Shang Tsung and was taken back to her original timeline where she was killed by that timeline's Liu Kang.

Sorry if it's too long, and it's alright if you don't want to write it!<33

you're not him

a/n: ahhhh, yes, let me flex my angst writing muscles real quick, haven't done this in a while, changed some stuff around but it still fits the basic permise

pairing: liu kang x gn!reader

warnings: canon typical violence

this wasn’t right, none of this was right

he was kind, nice, warm, everything Shang Tsung wasn’t, and you felt yourself drawn to the god despite your orders

you really had tried your best to create chaos, to find this timeline’s Shang Tsung and Quan Chi and harness their ambition and sorcery to create death

but then, you had gone and found them and saw that they were already taken in by Liu Kang, to be reformed and taught to harness their powers for good

you had tried to infiltrate Empress Sindel’s court, to whisper thirsts for power to General Shao and Reiko nand cause an uprising to kill Outworld’s champions

but the suggestions seemed to fly right over their heads, and they remained fiercely loyal to Empress Sindel

you didn’t even try with Mileena, and when you had gone in search of anyone that could and should have wanted to usurp the throne for themselves, you found nothing but peace and tranquility and happiness

every problem that they might’ve had were already solved or mitigated, and your mission was on the trajectory to fail

you could not fail Shang Tsung, he would kill you if you came back fruitless and without disrupting the peace of Lord Liu Kang’s timeline

and so, you went straight to Liu Kang, to go straight to the source of all this peace and kill it at its source, except that he had already been expecting you

he had seen you through the sands of time, granules not meant to be in this hourglass, and he sat you down and drank tea with you

not an ounce of stress or worry marred his features as you picked at your fingers in nervousness, had he poisoned the tea? was he planning on killing you? was he going to send you back to Shang Tsung with no results?

he didn’t do any of those options, instead he talked about idle things, about how he solved his realm’s problems before they got out of control and how he knows you’re here to disrupt his timeline

and yet, even after that conversation, he offers you reprieve, to train underneath him and get away from Shang Tsung from your timeline

you hesitate for a moment, confused by the warmth he extended to you, but you take his hand after a moment

one of his monks escort you to a personal room, gives you clean training uniforms that fit you, and leaves you alone to gather your thoughts

you want to kill him, you need to kill him, to please Shang Tsung, because Shang Tsung would slit your throat, would kill you, would torture you, would spare no mean to make sure you suffer

then you thumb the soft material in your hands, the clean training uniform, a personal room, an adjacent bathroom just for yourself

Liu Kang had managed to bring peace to all of the realms here, and he must be a powerful god to do so, perhaps the god would be able to protect you from the wrath of Shang Tsung

and so, you train at the Fire Temple with the other monks, you meet his champions and become friends with them, you grow closer with Liu Kang as he talks to you over tea

he doesn’t poke or prod, just listens and hums, filling in the empty silence with his own words to keep the conversation going

day by day, you relax, you stop checking every corner for danger, you stop guarding your food like it’s your last and only meal, your stop pushing and straining your body until you collapse during training sessions

you feel your spirits lift, your body feels lighter, the world seems brighter and warmer and better

you sit next to Liu Kang, talking to him about a flower you saw yesterday, how beautiful it was and how it bloomed in the sun

it was something you had never really seen, no Shang Tsung’s realm was just full of death and anger and husks, nothing alive was there, nothing beautiful existed

he asks you more about the realm you’re from, how different everything is, if the counterparts of his champions live with Shang Tsung

you clear your throat, fingers gripping onto the teacup as you think and dredge up the memories

you tell him about Shang Tsung’s champions, about how Lord Raiden and Fujin still exist but do the bidding of Shang Tsung to clear and conquer the realms

you tell him about how screams constantly fill the air, how blood stains the ground and leaves the permanent sickly smell of iron in the air

you tell him how Liu Kang also exists in Shang Tsung’s universe, how he is much crueler, angrier, fast to fuse and killed without remorse

Shang Tsung’s Liu Kang was the perfect lap dog and weapon against any unruly civilians or protests or civil wars in the realms

he was Shang Tsung’s best fighter, and if Liu Kang wanted to, he could snap your neck easily, break you in half and not even bat an eyelash

you flinch as you feel Liu Kang place a hand on your thigh, drawing you out of the memories, and he smiles at you, a little concerned

he tells you you do not have to worry about that, that he will keep you safe from Shang Tsung, that you do not deserve to wilt in such an environment

it makes your heart warm as you blush and tilt your head away to hide your face and sip on your tea

after that day, the relationship between you and Liu Kang shifts

he’s much closer to you, much more handsy and touchy, and he always finds time to bring you bouquets of flowers from his personal gardens

you find yourself leaning into his touch, seeking him every time you walk into a room, reaching out to brush your fingers against his when you two stand close to each other

you lay in a field, an off day to relax from training, and you read a book, something that you hadn’t learned how to do until you came to this realm

it was fascinating, the characters, the words, and it was quite entertaining

you don’t even have to look up to know Liu Kang approaches you, and he sits next to you and glances at what you’re reading

he passes you a cup of tea silently and lets you read in a comfortable silence as he skims the pages while you go over the sentences

finally, you reach the end of your chapter and set the book down to look at Liu Kang, and you hadn’t realized how close his face was to yours

you flush but don’t move away, and he doesn’t either

instead, he leans in a little closer to you, bringing his hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and you bring your hand up to cup his and bring it to your cheek

he holds onto your face gently, carefully, as if you would break

you tilt your head back, and he leans his head down, lips only a breath apart, so close to touching you, kissing you

the alarm bells ring in the courtyard, and the both of you jolt from your hazy daydream and back into reality as you stand up and rush to the main courtyard

you find Shang Tsung standing in front of a dark portal, clutching onto the neck of a monk and draining them of their power before dropping them to the ground as a husk

the titan spots you and gives a wide smile, but you can feel and hear the malice in his voice, how he’s going to make you regret for you decision to turn against him

you ready your stance, ready to fight him, but Liu Kang pushes you behind him, shielding you away from Shang Tsung’s maniacal glare

he laughs at how protective Liu Kang has grown of you before he starts to insult you, calling you a dirty traitor, a good for nothing harlot, how you’re useless and a pathetic excuse of a warrior

Liu Kang scowls at the words and his fists light into flame, and Shang Tsung smiles and continues his insults

you see him ready his claws, his powers glowing in his hands, and you know that this not an encounter Liu Kang will survive if you don’t intervene

as Liu Kang lunges forward, you grab onto his clothes and pull him back, using your body weight and momentum to throw him to the floor and yourself forward into Shang Tsung’s body

you push him through the portal, and the titan grabs onto you tightly, bringing you through the portal with him

you catch a glance backward, and you see Liu Kang reaching out for you, his words forming a sound of anguish

and then the portal blinks away and you’re back in your own dimension

Shang Tsung throws you onto your back, causing your breath to disappear into the air, and he stabs his claws through your stomach, and blood spurts from your mouth

but you grit your teeth and bear through the pain as he slashes and claws and beats you within an inch of your life

your blood paints the ground in a twisted canvas, but Shang Tsung stops just a few seconds before dealing the landing blow

he calls over Liu Kang, and you see him come over to you, eyes no longer warm, hands cold and painful, and words sharp and jagged as he beats you to death

he smiles at you wickedly as he deals the final blow, and you hope that your Liu Kang has found a way to protect the peace of his realm as your last thought

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #liu kang #liu kang mk1 #mk1 liu kang #liu kang x reader #liu kang x you #liu kang x y/n

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teaaagan · 10 months

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Starbucks

Harley, at Starbucks: Can I get a venti vanilla latte with um, seven espresso shots.

Y/N, in line behind her: My God, just do cocaine

#incorrect quotes #dc #harley quinn #harley quinn x you #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x male reader #harley quinn x fem reader #harley quinn x fem!reader #harley quinn x male!reader #harley quinn x gn!reader #harley quinn x gn reader #birds of prey #harleen quinzel #harleen quinzel x reader #harleen quinzel x fem reader #harleen quinzel x male reader #harleen quinzel x gn reader #harley quinn x female reader

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montimer · 7 months

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Joker x gn!reader

Could be any joker, just got inspired by this

He had you tied up in an abandoned place, far away from the police or bats. He can't risk it ya know, he had to!

You would be too scared to realize hes doing this because he loves you. He just needs to remind you!

But when he tries to hug or kiss you, you turn your head away. Oh his heart shrinks. You just must be confused.

Those stupid pigs of gotham made you believe he would hurt you! Good thing he has you with him now. He will help you perish those thoughts!

As he comes close you try to turn away again, but he gently forces you to look at him. He has those half lidden eyes. His voice is all flirty. Surprised, you stop moving.

And when he goes in to kiss you, this time, you don't turn away.

You relax as he hums into the kiss. This isn't as bad as you thought it would be. Actually its quite nice.

He leans away after some moment to caths his breath. His smile widening, taking a notice of the fact that you enjoyed his kiss.

If you keep behaving this good, he might just un tie you sooner.

#joker x reader #joker #the joker #the joker x reader #the joker x gn reader #joker x gn reader #btas joker x reader #tnba joker x reader #animated joker #harley quinn animated series joker x reader #long halloween joker #batman long halloween #arkham joker

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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my fics masterlist

(earlier fics)

i made this because the first masterlist couldn't fit them all LMAO, anyway, i hope y'all like these :DD make sure to reblog them if you did, that means a lot to me !!

miguel raises his voice at a fem!filo!reader and sees a light

he's called kuya hobie (hobie x filipino reader)

miles catches you in the zone

watching howl's moving castle with noir

pav x tomboy fem!reader

kissing miggy to calm him down

noir's birthday surprise (domestic noir x reader)

oblivious reader x spider noir

when you can't keep your promises (noir x reader angst)

making him a flower crown (noir x florist!reader, technically part 3.......?)

miguel catching you playing with the miggy doll

just one kiss, that's all (1610 miles x reader)

drunk miguel x filipina reader

hobie x gn!spiderperson reader

miles 42 practicing rizzing you up

noir x criminal reader (part 2)

miles x reader (before school starts)

he keeps remembering (angsty miguel drabble)

making miggy dance the wet the bed dance trend

we're truly, utterly, pretty much just friends (1610 miles x reader)

1610 miles x reader with bunny teeth

miguel x grumpy reader (part 3)

noir x assassin reader

being shipped with each other (noir x reader)

something's crawling at the dead of night (stalker!miguel x reader)

miggy telling you you're beautiful for the first time

spider noir meets spider barbie

finding pink clothes for miggy to wear to the barbie movie

dancing in the rain (gwen stacy x reader)

you break the news to miguel

miles 1610 x multilingual reader

miles holds your hand while riding a rollercoaster

will you still love him when he's no longer young and beautiful? (drunk!noir x reader)

miles meets noir in his dad era

spider barbie kicks ass (spider noir x spider barbie!reader)

pool day with noir and the family (domestic noir x reader)

noir gets tangled up, now spider barbie has to help

gwen stacy x fem!reader on her period

the remedy to all my ailments (spider noir x reader angst)

miles x filipino!reader with their chismosa't chismong kapatids

miguel o'hara x harley quinn!reader

if i can't have you (soccer captain!miguel o'hara x reader)

hobie x gn!spider person!reader

spider noir defending spider barbie from creeps

whatever else you guys request ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯(send me a req thru my asks !!)

#atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #spider noir x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #spidersona

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pandorascripts · 1 year

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Maddening Love

summary: harley never meant to become what she was afraid of. it seems she did though.

pairing: harley quinn x gn!reader (can be read as fem)

warnings: murder, gun violence, making out.

note: this has been in my drafts for a while, and I fricking love harley. thought she deserved some love, so please send in requests for her!!! <333

-🃏-

Harley turns on her heel, huffing a hot breath into the cold winter air. “You don’t love me no more.”

You rush up to Harley, reaching out, but retract your hand at the last moment. “Harls, no, no, I do.” Frowning, you timidly place a hand on her cold shoulder.

With a fury you’ve never seen before in her eyes, Harley glares at you. “I don’t appreciate liars, cupcake.”

The venom in her words knocks you off guard, but you know Harley. You know she has her jealousies, when someone got too frisky with you, or when she herself was battling her own insecurities. You shake your head, knowing she needs comfort. It was something she’d always lacked in her relationship with him, so you were determined to give it to her.

“I’m no liar. I love you, Harley. Only you.” You wrap your arms around her, burying your head into her neck. Even if the position is uncomfortable, considering Harley is taller than you, and you need to be on your tip-toes, you hold out for as long as you can.

When your ankles are hurting, and your feet are aching, you lean away of her. You still keep yours arms wrapped around her neck, your left thumb brushing against her skin. Looking into her eyes, you see anger and hurt, but underneath there, there’s a look you’ve seen so many times. Insecurity.

“What’s got you upset, Harley?”

She shakes her head, softly biting her lip as she looks away from you. “Nothin’, it’s stupid.”

“Harley,” you pause, gently guiding her head back to you, “your feelings aren’t stupid. Please.”

Your eyebrows ease up and you try to dump all your emotions into your eyes. You pour all your love for her, your own insecurities, everything you hold, but you know that it’s useless. You felt too much for her, there’s was no possible way you could measure it to size, much less show all of it.

Harley caves, leaning down into you as her hands wrap around your sides. “You promise you love me?”

“Always.”

A small sniffle comes from Harley, and you feel your heart shatter. The shards from your heart pierce your lungs, making your breathing turn jagged. Tears of your own form and you don’t bother hiding them. “I will always love you, Harls.”

A minute of silence passes and you think you’ve reminded her, but her troubles overpower her, again.

“Prove it.”

Desperately, you nod your head.

“How?”

Harley’s head retreats from your neck and she meets your eyes. Her hand comes up to your face, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’d kill for you, Harls.”

She shakes her head, a beautifully crazed smile gracing her lips. “No, that’s too easy, sweetheart. The question is, would’ja love me if I killed?”

You nod your head hastily. “You cant scare me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Harley takes your hand, the other one pulling out a handgun as she retreats back into the nightclub you’d just left. “What if I shot up this joint, huh? What ‘bout then?”

“I’d take the blame.”

You quicken your pace, longing to be at her side.

“Would’ja?” she questions, back turned to the door. With a nod of your head, she kicks it open.

The once muffled music cuts through the December night, loud lights blind you as you trail after her inwards. Harley’s grip on your hand only tightens as she walks forward, handgun pressed to her side. Sweaty bodies collide against yours, and you’re reminded why you hate clubs. The bodies pushing and pulling at you make you sick, but when Harley’s hand is in yours, it drowns out anything else.

When she reaches dead center, she pulls you close to her. Harley leans down to your ear, practically yelling over the music.

“Would’ja be my New Years kiss?” she asks, giggling mischievously.

The crowd counts down, and as they reach two, you pull Harley downwards by her collar. Her lips meet yours on the last number, and her gun fires. People run around you and Harley, all desperate to escape their deaths. Bodies bump into you; but her lips planted firmly on yours ground you against them. Harley’s free hand grips the back on your neck, the other causing chaos. Screams fill your ears as Harley empties her clip, bullets flying in all directions, and you bring her back down to you again. Softly, Harley bites your lip, releasing it with a pop as she backs away.

You take a moment to look around. Bodies surround you two, and in a comical way, you make out a heart. Harley steps forward again, holding your chin back as you share air.

“Still love me now, honey?”

You nod, not bothering to address the cold barrel pointed at your head.

“What if I pulled the trigga?”

“Yes,” you husk out, not hesitating in the slightest. “You emptied your mag already, it wouldn’t do anything.”

“What if I had a bullet?”

You scan her eyes, her cold ones piercing through yours. It doesn’t bother you though, you have enough warmth and love to fill up hers. You’d gladly share it.

“Same answer, Harls. You can’t scare me away.”

Slowly, you bring her back down to you. Her warm lips greet yours, and you know you’ve smudged her lipstick. Harley pulls back, kissing the corner of your mouth and then your jaw.

“You don’ care that imma killa?”

You shake your head slightly, still wanting her lips on your skin. “No.”

“No?” she asks, planting another kiss below your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine, one of your hands holds Harley’s head as the other holds her lower back. “Not at all.”

Sirens blare around you, but you don’t mind. Harley whispers something incoherent, her hands on your hips having your full attention. You nod, mumbling yes, and her warm body is pulled out of yours. Your eyes snap open, desperately searching for pink and blue, but you can’t find it. As the doors bust open, and swarms of yells surround you, you drop to your knees. Cold metal clicks around your wrist as rough hands pull you up.

The shocking realization that Harley had left you hits like a brick, and you blink several times, with each one wishing this wasn’t true.

“Harls!” you yell, trashing against the cops.

A sob racks through your body as a hard object slams against your stomach. You gasp, heart shattered once again, the evidence burrowing itself deep in your lungs. You cry and plead, but when they toss you in a room, you don’t say a thing. Harley may have betrayed you, but you’d never fathom of doing the same. If she needed her reassurance for your love, this had to be it, right? The more you suffer, the more it shows you care. Harley would see you suffering, and she know you’d truly care for her. She’d get you out, she had to. The thought brought a smile to your lips, a giggle cracking them apart.

“You killed nine people, this isn’t a laughing matter.”

You look up to the detective, seeing his disappointed face. “I think it is.”

Another crazed smile paints itself on your lips.

“Who was with you?” he demands, hands slamming against the steel table.

You don’t flinch, not even moving a muscle as you stare at him. “Just me…”

“Those red lips on your neck say otherwise.”

“Can you blame a girl for having fun? Saw this cute blonde girl, made out with her for New Years, and then,” you pause, trying to build up dramatic suspense, “then I pumped her full of lead, ‘long with those eight other people.”

He nods his head. “Thanks for the confession. With that, you won’t be getting a trial,” he walks away, mumbling the last part of his sentence,”not like you crazies deserve one.”

You mock a salute to him on his way out.

Harley’d get you, she’d kill all these mediocre officers. A laugh surges through your broken lungs, wheezing out and shattering the silence.

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vampyan · 2 months

Text

blog & request rules ;

minors and ageless blogs do not interact! you will be blocked on sight.

this blog is dom!reader x sub!yandere!character only. you can find sub!reader everywhere else so don’t come looking for it here.

all gender identities are welcome but this blog mainly caters to fem/afab!readers.

this blog is yandere-centric and will be littered with dark content, though all of these things will be tagged.

anon hate & rude asks will be ignored & deleted on sight cus idc.

this is a sideblog and i’ll mostly be posting fic here, so it won’t be nearly as active as my main -> @vampcubus

characters i write for ;

-> kimetsu no yaiba

kyojuro rengoku ; obanai iguro ; tengen uzui & wives ; shinobu kocho ; sanemi shinazugawa ; shinjuro rengoku ; zenitsu agatsuma ; inosuke hashibira ; tanjiro kamado ; genya shinazugawa ; muzan kibutsuji ; akaza ; gyutaro ; gyokko ; hantengu clones (sekido & urogi preferred) ;

-> telltale batman

john doe/joker ; edward nygma/riddler ; harvey dent/two-face ; harley quinn ;

-> helluva boss

blitzø ; fizzarolli ; asmodeus ; mammon ;

-> the arcana

lucio ; muriel ; asra ; vulgora ;

-> dragon ball

goku ; vegeta ; gohan ; broly ; frieza ; frost ; beerus ; android 17 ; android 18 ; zamasu ; goku black ; jiren ;

-> miscellaneous fandom yanderes

mizu (blue eye samurai) ; sidon (loz botw & totk) ; john doe (visual novel) ; victor van dort (corpse bride) ;

-> original yandere characters

coming soon!

request rules ;

👩🏻‍🔬: requests aren't guaranteed and might take me a while (especially since i run another blog as well) but i'll try to finish as many as i can >:3

yandere!character is the main focus of this blog, but yandere!reader is also acceptable!

all characters aged up to 18+ if applicable

please be specific and have a concept instead of sending something like ‘kyojuro x reader smut’ i’ll be more likely to write it if you know exactly what you want :)

will write ;

fics, headcanons, and quick thirsts/drabbles.

dom!reader x sub!yandere!character. (top! or bottom!reader so long as they are dominant)

fem or afab!reader for nsfw. will do fem or gender-neutral reader for sfw. (pls specify if you’d prefer a gn!reader)

non-sexual non-con, dub-con, non-con touching/affection, stalking, controlling behavior, kidnapping, manipulation, blood & gore.

polyamory, threesomes, and harems (ex: uzuren x reader, obamitsu x reader, inotan x reader, kamaboko trio x reader, fizzmodeus x reader)

a/b/o dynamics. alpha!reader x omega!character preferred, but will write for dominant omega readers (ex: prime omega!reader)

monsterfucking/teratophilia, monster/cryptid au yanderes (ex: cryptid!kyojuro, werewolf!sanemi, eldritch horror!yandere)

kny demon pet au (@/invertedphantasmagoria, @/phantasmiafxndom), hybrid au, catboys, puppyboys, bunnyboys etc...

won’t write ;

sub!reader x dom!character

male or amab!readers.

kink no-no’s: sexual non-con, incest/stepcest, daddy kink, piss play/watersports/omorashi, foot fetish, maledom.

forced pregnancy, miscarriages.

#🦠.navigation #.request rules #.blog rules #.byf #dom!reader #dom reader #sub!character #sub!yandere

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

talk ; bruce wayne.

track nine of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; rpatz!bruce wayne x fiance!gn!reader

synopsis ; it’d been years since you died. bruce stood silent in front of your grave, hair damp from the cold rain. you approached him from behind, tipping your umbrella forward just enough so the tears of the sky would stop mingling with his own.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; angst, action, fluff, engaged au, ex-thief au

warnings / includes ; faked death, injuries/blood/violence/death, depictions of human trafficking, a lot of Emotions, reader used to be a thief, mentions of the joker and harley quinn, alfred cameo !! and one smutty-ish sentence?

main masterlist.

The ground was sodden with rainwater, mud clinging onto his black boots. Its long laces were loosely dragging through the dirt, wet and filthy, but he couldn’t be bothered to retie them. Rain dripped from the hair that hung limply from his head, frigid drops pricking his skin and meandering down his cheeks. The cold air from the sky was a pleasant but striking juxtaposition to the hot tears slipping from the corners of his eyes, conveniently camouflaged by the rain. It wasn’t often that Bruce Wayne cried, but for you, he allowed himself to shed a few tears.

After all, it was the third anniversary of your death.

He hadn’t shown up to your funeral—well, from what Alfred told him, he wouldn’t have made much of a difference. There were hundreds of people there. He was just glad he wasn’t there so the vultures of public press didn’t have the chance to shove flashing cameras into his face.

He could just imagine the headlines: Bruce Wayne At Gotham’s Most Notorious Thief’s Funeral, Y/N L/N And Bruce Wayne: A Tragic Romance, Bruce Wayne’s Ex-Criminal Fiance Killed By The Joker.

Bruce coughed into his fist, masking a strained, broken sob as his eyes trailed down your headstone, where your name was carved in stone. His shoulders trembled. The sky thundered. He bit down on his tongue. His lungs felt thick and heavy, as if slickened with tar.

There were nearly a dozen bouquets of flowers crowded around the stone. Bruce noticed that there were several wilting roses amongst the heap of petals and thorns.

You hated roses.

“Hope you didn’t leave me any of those,” said an eerily familiar voice from behind him. All of a sudden, the rain stopped pelting his head, shadowed by a dark umbrella, just enough to stop the tears of the sky from mingling with his own. “You know I hate roses.”

His shoulders tensed.

Chest constricting, your name slipped from his lips, nearly lost to the pelting rain.

“The one and only,” you said. “It’s been a long time, Bru.”

He turned around, stiff. His eyes twitched in disbelief. There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat. A part of Bruce, the grief-stricken part, wondered if he was hallucinating you.

But you were here, in the flesh. And there was a small grin coyly toying at the corner of your lips. You had a hat pulled low over your head, nearly shielding your bright eyes as well, and you were dressed in loose, dark clothing.

The ring he gave you dangled on a thin silver chain around your neck, gleaming as if regularly polished. You silently noted that he still wore his own engagement ring.

Bruce’s supposedly dead fiance tilted their head, regarding him with veiled fondness.

“Come on,” you said, pointedly turning away so that the umbrella was no longer hovering over him. He flinched when the cold rain touched his skin. He stood there for a second longer, still in shock, before numbly following behind you.

Rust.

Bruce could smell it everywhere.

“I know it isn’t much,” you said, shouldering the creaky door to the abandoned warehouse open, “but it’s home. For now, at least.”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching Bruce’s hardened eyes. With pursed lips, you shook the water out of your umbrella before shucking it closed, tossing it somewhere in the corner. Bruce watched as you busied yourself with lighting small gas lamps on rickety metal chairs, before allowing his gaze to briefly dart around the room. It was spacious in a way that was unsettling—dark and dreary, cold and lifeless. There were a couple dozen boxes stacked along the opposite wall, lining the large, moldy windows. A beaten down sofa was placed off to the side, with a thin blanket messily thrown over the back.

You’d been living here this entire time?

When he spoke—his first words to you in three entire years—it was shaky and saturated with raw hurt. He was… he was so inexplicably angry with you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, so quietly you nearly wished he was yelling instead. “How could you… how could you do this to me? To Alfred?”

The splinter within the fractures of your heart was all of a sudden a large stake, and Bruce held the hammer.

A small sigh fell from your lips and you turned to face him fully. “It’s a long story.”

Bruce’s frustrated countenance remained unchanged. “You better get going, then.”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, before dropping down onto your patchy sofa. “You don’t wanna sit down?” you asked. He gave you no response. “Alright, then.”

There was so much to tell him. You didn’t know where to start.

After clearing your throat, you finally croaked out, “That night three years ago—I contacted the Joker through Harley Quinn. She was an old pal of mine from my crime days. Through her, I asked him to meet me under Gotham’s largest bridge because I had a deal to make with him. A part of me wasn’t sure he was going to show but—my reputation as the city’s most famous ex-thief was more than enough to convince him. He was curious, you see. He thought I was coming back into the business of stealing. It didn’t take him long to realize that I wasn’t planning on working with him, and he was about to call his cronies for back up, but I knocked him out before he could reach for anything. I planted evidence of my death on him—a knife with my blood on it, his fingerprints over my equipment, his hair on my clothes, my skin under his nails. The next couple of hours, I was across the city, ingesting a fake-death pill—potassium cyanide. The next day, the entire world thought I was dead, killed by the Joker—though if you dug up that grave you were standing over earlier today, you’d find it to be empty. I framed him so he’d land in jail, Bruce. Like he deserves to be.”

Bruce’s pallid complexion made it look like he was going to keel over and hurl. “Why? Why did you do it?”

“There were people trying to kill you because of me, Bru,” you whispered. “They wanted me dead, and they wanted you dead, too. I was protecting you. If I’m gone, then they’d no longer have a reason to kill you.”

“YOU COULD’VE TOLD ME!” he roared, his pain ricocheting throughout the warehouse. All of a sudden, he was no farther than an arm’s length away from you. The blue of his eyes gleamed with a mirage of resurfaced bitterness and anger. His voice quietened, “I could’ve done something. I could’ve helped you. We could’ve worked through it together.”

You shook your head. “You knowing I was alive would’ve put us both at more risk. I had to do it, Bruce. I… I had to do it so I wasn’t under the eye of scrutiny anymore. Being the most famous ex-thief and Bruce Wayne’s fiance meant more eyes on me than practically anyone else in the country. One tiny slip up, and I’d be in jail right next to the Joker!”

Bruce reared back upon realizing what you were saying. “You faked your death to steal again?”

“No!” you bit back, voice cracking. “Not to steal. To help—just without the cops on my back. Without the Penguin breathing down my neck. Without Deathstroke hunting me down. I did it to protect you and help the city in my own way.”

Silence stretched thin between the two of you. Bruce was tense, frozen in front of you, repeating your words over and over in his head.

“I still love you, Bru,” you said, reaching out for his arm. “That’s never changed.”

He moved out of your way, flinching at the mere prospect of touching you.

“Then what do you want from me?” he snarled, gruffer than he had intended. “I grieved you. I couldn’t—I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’d failed you. I couldn’t save you. It tore me apart, Y/N. I just… I loved you so much. You meant so much to me. And to just… leave without so much as a goodbye! Not even a note!”

Your hand fell back to your side, a sharp ache clawing within your ribcage.

“I’m sorry,” you said, gritting your jaw and willing the surfacing tears away. “I’d love to hash this out with you, B, but there’s more pressing matters at hand. I would’ve never told you that I’m still alive if I really didn’t need your help.”

There was a beat of silence. Bruce shifted, shoulders hunched over as if he wanted to cave in on himself. The thought of being around you right now was simultaneously the worst thing he could do to himself, and what he desired most.

He missed you—painfully so. He missed the hard, determined edge to your expression whenever you concentrated on something. He missed the way you used to cradle him close to you when he had terrible nightmares, kissing around his bruises. He missed the way you’d playfully bump your hip against his while the two of you worked on the same table. He missed the way you'd lewdly moan your special nickname for him—Bru—into the mattress when he rolled his hips into yours from behind, pressing hot kisses down your arched spine. He missed your infamous grin, and how it never failed to replicate itself onto his own lips. He missed your scent—a homely mix of cinnamon and lavender, a smell he wanted to drown himself with. After you’d died, he’d sleep with your hoodie pressed against his nose—and he did so until the perfume wore away, and the last trace of you was gone. He missed your laughter, your lighthearted banter with Alfred, your help on missions when he found himself at a dead end.

This time, you were asking for his help.

And how could he say no to that?

Bruce’s sore eyes darted from the rusty ceiling to you, watching him intently. “What is it?”

Hope sparked within you, like a candle lit in the middle of a hurricane. “Human trafficking, Bru. That’s what I’ve spent the past three years trying to take down. Gotham is rampant with it. If I told the police… they would’ve been five steps ahead and relocated across the country and we’d be right back to square one. I finally got my hands on some intel—they’re moving a bunch of kidnapped children through the abandoned railways under the city tomorrow night. I don’t know where they’re going, but I can’t let them leave, or things would get infinitely more complicated. I don’t know how many exactly. Could be a couple dozen. A hundred. Maybe even just one. But I know I have to stop them—and I can’t do it alone.”

There was something akin to awe behind Bruce’s blue irises. “The five missing kids randomly appearing in a homeless shelter last year—that was you?”

A weak grin nudged at the corner off your lips. “Yeah. The poor things were being forced to manufacture illegal firearms with scrap metal parts.”

Another beat of silence. The hesitance in Bruce seemed to wane away with each passing second.

“How do you know it’s not a trap?” Bruce stepped closer to you, eyebrows furrowing. The fact that all of this was happening right under his nose made a sick feeling twist his stomach.

Your lips trembled. Slowly, you pulled out your phone, pressing on a video file and held it out to him. He took it from you, watching with horror as the grainy footage played. Half of the screen was black, as if filming from behind a wall. The kids were chained, manhandled and shoved into a truck by several armed people, screams and cries echoing along the metal walls. There was a louder shout, closer to the person recording, and the camera began to wobble and shake, pulling away from the crime scene as they began running. The video was cut off there.

He felt sick. His eyes flickered back up to you, anxiously worrying on your bottom lip.

“I filmed that around a day ago,” you whispered, throat thick with emotion. You began to physically shake. “I saw it. I tried to stop them—but I messed up. One of the guards turned around the corner and saw me. I killed him, Bruce, or the entire operation would’ve been blown. I… I—”

There was a cold hand on your shoulder. His thumb brushed against the bare skin of your collarbone. Your fiance kneeled in front of you, nodding his head to silently tell you to go on. You swallowed nervously.

“Thankfully, the rest of them didn’t know I was there. I don’t know where the kids are now, and it kills me to wait. All I know is that they’re planning on taking them through the railways tomorrow. It’s the best shot I have.”

Bruce’s stare burned into you. “You’ve been managing on your own for the past three years. Why are you only asking for my help now?”

You winced, pursing your lips. “The man I killed—he didn’t go down without a fight.”

Gingerly, you shifted your hands down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal tightly wound bandages over your stomach. Much to your dismay, they were soaked through with copper-hued blood, a dark shade that sent a queasy tremor up your spine.

Almost immediately, a shadowed, closed-off expression melded over his features. You couldn’t exactly tell whether or not he was angry at you, or just angry in general.

“You’re bleeding,” he stated, rather bluntly. You bit back the urge to berate him for spelling out the obvious, and remained quiet as he told you to lean back. “Do you have extra bandages?”

“Yeah—in that box in the corner there. Nicked ‘em from the pharmacy down the block.”

Bruce frowned at that, but didn’t vocalize his disapproval.

In the box, he’d noticed a bottle of alcohol beside the bandages, grabbing that as well.

He strode back to you, softly asking you to peel back your bandages. You complied, but not without a grumpy divot appearing between your brows. If you weren’t practically bleeding out in front of him, Bruce would’ve found it to be rather endearing.

There were several lacerations across your abdomen, some shallow, and others deep. There were stitches across the more serious wounds, but they were done shoddily. Bruce sent you a look, swallowing hard.

“These look awful.”

“Why don’t you try stitching yourself up, then?” you hissed, biting down on your palm as he started cleaning up your wounds with an alcohol-doused bandage.

Bruce couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was cleaning up his fiance’s stab wounds after three years of their supposed death. A part of him wondered if he’d wake up from this nightmare, sprawled across his bed with his nose tucked into your hoodie.

But this was real.

Your muffled groans of pain brought him back down to earth.

You were real.

As swiftly as he could, he neatly wrapped fresh bandages over your waist, murmuring a shaky apology when you cried out from the stinging agony of the combined pressure and the cleansing alcohol.

“What else have you been doing?” Bruce asked, much to your surprise. Your eyes darted to his, and his skin flushed with heat, shifting his gaze to the ground.

It took you a moment to formulate a response. You were walking on eggshells around him, afraid that a slip of your tongue would make him get up and leave. “I’ve been in international waters for the majority of the time—staking out meetings, organizing heists, stealing from the rich—all that lovely jazz. I went to France, Mexico, India, New Zealand—trying to find something to do. My purpose. I guess I was traveling all over the place to run away from Gotham for a while. But I came back—because Gotham will always be my home. Because Gotham is where you are.” You fixed him with a pointed gaze, and Bruce swallowed uneasily. The hazy blue of his irises darkened a shade. You spoke again, voice lowered, “I gave all the money to charities, by the way. A couple of orphanages, too. Balancing out the scales, Bruce. For all the shitty things I’ve done.” You gritted your teeth when he wound another set of bandages over you for good measure.

Your words made an overwhelming sense of nostalgia wash over him, like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. There was good in you, no matter what the press had to say about that. Bruce knew that you were doing your best to help Gotham, just like he was. In your own way, of course, but it was what made Bruce fall in love with you in the first place.

You cared so much for Gotham. For its people. Even when they probably didn’t deserve it.

“Ironic that I fell in love with one of the richest men in the world, isn’t it?” you chuckled, lolling your head back onto the sofa’s armrest, staring up at the rusty warehouse’s ceiling. Bruce could feel his chest constricting. “What about you, Bru? What’ve you been up to since I’ve been dead?”

The man gave you no response, merely lifting one of his shoulders in a tense shrug. He wasn’t sure he was ready to divulge the past few years to you just yet. As much as he missed you, dreamed of you coming back to him—he couldn’t find it within himself to tear down all the barriers he built around himself since your death.

It was all too sudden. Bruce needed time.

You understood him all too well, much to his mild relief, and hummed noncommittally, as if to say ‘take your time’.

“You can’t tell anybody that I’m alive,” you said breathlessly, after a moment of terse silence. “Not even Alfred.”

Bruce’s jaw flexed. He didn’t like keeping secrets from the closest thing he had to a father, but he knew that it was necessary. “What’s the plan?”

“They’ll be moving tomorrow. Are you in, Bruce?”

Only now did he realize that his hands were still splayed out over your bandaged abdomen, and he jerked back, as if he’d burned himself. You propped yourself up on an elbow, a hint of an amused grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

God, you were so beautiful.

It took a great amount of effort for him to look away from your lips, and he focused on leveling his gaze with those bright eyes of yours.

“I’m in,” he said.

You smiled, all warm and utterly heart-breakingly wide, and Bruce could swear the air stilled around the two of you.

“Alright.” Your hand reached out to clasp his pale, cold one. He couldn’t pull away. He should’ve. He didn’t want to. “We strike at midnight.”

There was something about Bruce’s Batman suit that made you stop and stare at him with awe. Quite a few adjustments had been made to the outfit the past three years—the bulletproof platelets over his chest and abdomen were much more form-fitting than before, and a lightweight cape draped down to his ankles, dark as the night. His mask was different as well—it was tighter and covered more of his face. Seeing him like this made you remember that Batman didn’t hide in the shadows—he was the shadow.

He caught you watching him, the blue of his eyes flashing almost dangerously beneath the moonlight. You noticed the way his gaze trailed up and down your form, soaking in your own suit.

It was a simple outfit, made up of a long, cowled coat, the hood draping over your forehead and stopping just above your eyebrows. It was a mottled hue of grey, perfect camouflage for the dull concrete jungle of Gotham city. A mask of the same color covered your nose and mouth, leaving just your eyes for Bruce to see. The rest of your outfit beneath the coat was dark and well-fitted, with several compartments to store your gizmos and gadgets.

There were two daggers slid into your utility belt and a third emergency one strapped to your left shin. Further hidden within your pockets were a multitude of smoke grenades, ropes, and throwing stars.

You had a small pistol wedged into your belt, but that was only for worst-case scenarios. You knew Bruce didn’t like guns.

The two of you stood before the entrance of the abandoned railways, the gaping tunnel overgrown with moss and greenery. He gave you a weary glance, non-verbally asking if you were ready. You gave him a soft nod in response. Graffiti lined the walls near the front, but as the two of you walked in, there were fewer and farther in between.

The plan was clean-cut. Locate the children, take out the guards, and high-tail out of there. Your fiance (or was it ex-fiance? You weren’t quite sure) had made you promise not to kill anybody but—given the circumstances, you weren’t entirely sure if you could hold up to that promise.

Bruce had this innate ability to move in a way that if you hadn’t known he was already there, you wouldn’t have seen him at all. His hands loosely wrapped around your wrist to guide you to the right, and you couldn’t help but hold your breath at the minimal contact.

In the distance, the two of you heard echoing murmurs, gruff voices of what sounded to be a pair of boisterous men. They were getting closer, and getting close fast. In a whirl of dark fabric, you found yourself pressed up against the wall, Bruce’s face mere inches from yours. His long cape draped over the both of you, blending seamlessly into the shadows.

It took you another second to realize that his entire body was slotted against yours. His scent warped around you and consumed you whole, an overwhelmingly nostalgic aroma of fresh mint and blueberries and something purely, entirely just Bruce. You inhaled sharply.

This close, you could see the thin flecks of pale green amongst his blue irises, the smudged mascara around his eyes, the small, faded scar on his jaw. You could—

Oh.

A lump formed in your throat. You could hear his heart beating—feel it—thundering against his ribcage, just above where yours was.

Heat spidered beneath your skin, crawling up your neck and flushing your cheeks. Bruce watched you with an indiscernible gaze, jaw set. Perhaps it was a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate, dipping towards your lips for a millisecond before flicking right back up to meet your heady stare.

Desperate for a distraction, you craned your neck, and caught sight of the two men passing by. You bit onto the inside of your cheek, swallowing down a tirade of curses when you saw that they both held guns. Of fucking course they did.

Another couple of minutes, and they turned the corner, speaking to each other loudly. Bruce stepped away from you then, still keeping his eyes trained on you.

They both have guns, you signed with your hands. Sign language was something the two of you learned together during your first year of dating—it was always handy in case of emergencies such as this.

Bruce cocked his head in understanding. Stay in the shadows, he signed back.

You nodded, and the two of you took off once more, skimming across the gravel so quickly that you were practically floating.

The two of you slowed to a halt in front of several wrecked train cars, rusted and filthy with neglect. You peered through the glass, noting a few guards milling in front of trucks on the opposite side. That must’ve been where the children were. Tilting your head to look further to the left, you caught sight of a row of children lined up against the wall to the side of the tunnel. Chains shackled their wrists and ankles together. They were entirely silent, which unnerved you more than anything.

You’ve done this a million times before. Why were you so nervous?

Ah, right. Maybe, just maybe, because last time, you got stabbed. Or maybe it was because the love of your life was right by your side—the man who was supposed to think that you were dead.

You bit down on your tongue in a fruitless effort to quell the nausea roiling about in the pits of your stomach.

With a gentle hand to Bruce’s shoulder, you signed, Six kids. Get them to safety. I’ll take the guards.

Not allowing him the chance to protest, you reached into your coat’s pocket and brandished two smoke grenades, your other hand sliding out a dagger. You leapt through the totaled train’s doors, before pulling the pins out with your teeth, chucking them amongst the lounging guards.

Shouts erupted as two large plumes of ashy white smoke encompassed the entirety of the tunnel. Silent as the night, you snuck up behind two guards, bashing their heads together hard enough to render them unconscious. Your dagger flipped in your hand as you knelt, sweeping around and stabbed another right in the leg, dragging the blade down the entire length of their shin. An ear-splitting scream ricocheted across the stone walls of the tunnel.

That was when the gunshots started ringing out. You were able to dodge them lithely, watching the trajectory of the amber sparks made by the ricocheting bullets and ducking away from its sweeping arc. You drove your dagger straight into the jugular of the guard with a gun, kicking him back until he fell into the gravel, gurgling incoherently through the blood flooding his mouth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Bruce ushering the children through the wrecked train cars, towards the exit. Panic seized its dark hands around your heart as you spotted another guard—the last one in sight—pointing their gun towards Bruce.

You ripped your dagger out of the guard’s throat in no less than half a second, pulling your arm back to hurl it through the air. The blade embedded itself cleanly through the side of his head, the impact sending him crashing into the wall.

A breath of relief slipped your lungs, and you ran over to scoop the fallen gun up, shoving it into your belt.

Bruce had all the kids—it was time to go.

You dashed through the first set of doors into the train.

A deafening gunshot rang out to your right, and you dove down out of pure reflex.

But you were too late.

Searing pain blossomed over your chest, your stomach, your head—everywhere.

Children screaming.

Footsteps thundering.

The gravel beneath you—cold and sticky with your blood.

Bruce yelling your name, panic saturating every syllable.

The edges of your vision flickered with darkness.

Chest heaving—heaving—heaving—your breath leaving you—

Bruce… the children…

Oh, fuck. Everything hurt.

Your head throbbed angrily.

“Wake up, Y/N. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!”

Bruce’s voice was tightly interwoven with dread—bordering on hysteria as he knelt down over you, palm applying direct pressure to the bullet hole in your abdomen. A low moan fell from your lips at the searing agony that shot up your body.

As soon as your eyes dazedly cracked open, Bruce swore under his breath, mild relief seeping into his blown eyes. You’d only been down for no less than two seconds before he ripped his batarang from his armored chest, sending it arcing through the air to the last gunman, striking him down.

Not a single thing registered in your mind as Bruce swept you into his arms, carrying you down the tunnel and ushering the children along with gritted teeth and panic-laced words.

An overwhelming sense of terror still coursed through the very fibers of his being. He couldn’t lose you—not again.

“Bats, put me down,” you said, hoarsely. “Put me down.”

A protest was on the tip of his tongue, but the warning glare you sent him made him reluctantly comply, gently lowering you down to your feet. Your hand clutched his bicep for stability while the other still held pressure against your bullet wound. There were so many emotions coursing through him that he nearly felt dizzy with the overwhelming barrage of turmoil.

The two of you soon reached the end of the tunnel with half a dozen kids in front of you. Bruce herded them into the back seats of the Batmobile—it was a tight fit, but they were small and eager to leave. One of the little girls started crying as soon as she sat down on the leather seat of his car, and Bruce could feel his heart lurch with an ugly amalgamation of anger and concern.

He slid into the driver’s seat just as you slumped into the one next to him. A groan of pain left you as you began rifling through the car dash’s compartment, whipping out a roll of bandages and began winding it around your abdomen.

The car purred to life and in no less than half a minute, you were jetting off, leaving the dirty crime scene far behind.

Bruce’s eyes darted from the dark road to you, nearly bleeding out in the passenger’s seat. You were panting shallowly, head tilted back as you swallowed uneasily. Sweat beaded your forehead.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he whispered.

“No,” you replied, a biting edge to your tone.

Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. “You have a fucking bullet in you.” His voice lowered, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I can’t lose you again.” The last bit was said softly, his voice cracking with raw hurt.

You shook your head, stubborn. Your voice was quiet enough so the trembling kids in the back wouldn’t be able to hear you. “Don’t take me to the hospital, Bru. It’ll ruin everything I’ve built the past few years. Nobody can know I’m still alive.”

There was a beat of hesitation. Bruce clenched his jaw so hard it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack under the pressure. “At least let me take you back home. Alfred can help you.”

You frowned but kept silent. Going back to the Wayne Mansion was less than desirable, but it was the best choice you had—the other being bleeding out to death in your rusty abandoned warehouse. Your nose twitched as you slowly shifted to look out the window.

The drive went by much quicker than expected, mostly because you were fading in and out of a pain-induced unconsciousness. When you cracked your eyes open again, your head was pounding angrily and your bullet wound pulsated hotly in tandem with the thick, languid beating of your heart. You could faintly make out Bruce in his Batsuit just outside of the car, leading the kids into a building.

Your gaze shifted upwards, a sigh of relief falling from your lips upon seeing the gotham orphanage sign. Bruce helped the woman at the door usher the children in, before handing her about a dozen fat wads of cash. The look on the woman’s face was priceless—mouth gaping and eyes misting over with unshed tears. His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear him from inside the car.

Once Bruce made sure the kids were safe inside, he nodded once to the woman, before turning back to the Batmobile.

He slid in smoothly, checking all the mirrors to make sure that nobody had followed you.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, quiet and uncertain.

“I’m alive,” you replied. “Could really use an Advil right now, though.”

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Think you need a bit more than an Advil.”

You couldn’t find it in you to reply, the edges of your vision darkening at a concerningly rapid pace.

“Hang on for me, baby,” Bruce whispered brokenly, his hand darting out to grasp your limp one as he drove to the Wayne Mansion, slamming down on the gas. “Hang on.”

The street lights began to expand into a million shards of light as your eyelids drooped.

Blinding, blinding, blinding.

And yet you could see everything. The blue of Bruce’s eyes that constantly glanced over at you. The trembling of his pale hand on the steering wheel. The tacky blood that meandered down your sides and pooled into the crevices of the leather seat.

All of a sudden—

It all went dark.

It’d been three years since you stepped foot in the Batcave.

Really, it was just a private underground railway beneath the Wayne Mansion, but it definitely wasn’t fit for its original use and you were sure at least a couple dozen bats made the dark tunnel their permanent home, thus its name.

Bruce carried you out the car and into his work station, worry woven between every muscle. He deposited you gently onto the table, just as the elevator door rattled open.

Alfred stepped out, and he immediately blanched upon seeing you, bleeding and teetering on the edge of death itself.

They exchanged a couple hurried words, but you couldn’t hear much. Everything was blurry.

A tear slipped down your cheek when Alfred made his way to you, his hand cupping your cheek. He had a medkit clutched in his hands, and he popped it open right beside your head.

“Hi, Al,” you murmured hoarsely. “Long time no see.”

“Hello, my dear,” he replied fondly, deathly calm. It might’ve been a trick of the dim lights, but you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes misting over with unshed tears. “Last I checked, you were dead.”

If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve laughed, and given him an easy shrug. “Plans changed, I guess.”

Mustering what little energy you had left in you, you turned to look at Bruce as Alfred began peeling your clothing back to start working on your wounds.

“Hey, Bru,” you whispered. Bruce’s lips twitched at the nickname. “If I don’t make it—”

“Don’t say that,” he gruffed.

His warning fell upon deaf ears and you spoke again, determined. “If I don’t make it, for real this time, just remember that I love you. And I’ve never stopped.”

Something in his chest broke, and a suffocating sob thundered within him. He clutched at your limp hands, whispering out your name just in time for you to hear before you let the darkness take you one last time.

The first thing you noticed when you came to was Bruce’s hand still holding tightly onto yours. The second thing was the fact that the pain in your abdomen was no longer unbearable, but instead subdued to a sharp ache.

Your gaze roamed around the room, and you dimly realized that you were in Bruce’s bed—the bed that the two of you had slept in together when you were together. He was asleep by the edge of the mattress, hunched over in a position that wasn’t at all good for his spine.

He still had the black eye makeup on, smudged and flaking off, dried bits of mascara on his cheeks. His hair was mussed, as if he had raked his fingers through several times.

When you shifted a bit on his expansive mattress, Bruce stirred awake, the blue of his eyes shifting from confusion to panic to relief in a matter of seconds.

“Hey,” you croaked. “Thanks for getting me here. And tell Alfred thanks for patching me up.”

“We nearly lost you,” Bruce replied hoarsely. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Alfred wasn’t sure if you were going to make it. There was so much blood.”

A pained smile stretched your lips thin. “Well, I’m alive. Sort of. How long was I out?”

“A couple hours,” he replied. He exhaled quietly, lowering his head. “I never stopped loving you, too. After all these years… I should be mad at you. I was, at first… but I’m not anymore. I’m just—glad. I’m glad you’re here.”

You blinked, tilting your head. Slow, you wrapped your wrist around his hand, gingerly moving it up to your lips. You kissed the back of his palm, and he cupped your face tenderly just as the familiar sensation of tears began stinging the corner of your eyes.

“Oh, Bru. I’m so sorry for causing you all this pain. I’m sorry.” You hiccupped, not wanting to dissolve into a mess of tears right in front of him. “I love you so much. I wanted to come back every day, I swear. I had to do it. I did it for you.”

A glimmer of pain warbled in the blue of his irises. “After you died… I was in a bad place. I nearly killed the Joker when I visited him in prison—I was this close. Gordon took me away before I could. From then I just… I lost myself without you. I spiraled. I was vengeance. Then the anger just sort of left and all I had left was just this… this ache. This hurt that never went away.”

A part of you was surprised he was opening up. It was as if the dam had cracked, and the water was spewing out and Bruce just couldn’t stop. He began to cry softly, the dark mascara meandering down his face once more and his hand shaking against your cheek. You could feel your heart crumbling through the bones of your ribcage, and you wanted nothing more than to hold him close to you.

“Please stay,” Bruce croaked. “I can’t lose you—not again. I can’t go through that again. Please don’t let me go through it again.” His forehead fell to the mattress right beside your hip as his hand fell away from your face and his body shook.

This was him begging, you realized in shock. He was begging you.

Helplessness placed its dark hands on your shoulders, and you were frozen for a second.

“Bru, baby, I—”

“Please don’t leave. You can fight crime undercover with me. Here. By my side. Please—I love you.”

Tentative, you reached over and gently ran your fingers through his overgrown hair. This seemed to quell his shaking just a bit. He stayed in that position for another minute before peering up at you.

“I’ll stay,” you said. “But we’re going to have to be careful. I can’t risk more people finding out I’m alive—and I can’t risk dragging you down with me. I need you to understand that if things go south, I’m leaving immediately—to protect you, Bru. And as long as you won’t hold me back from my own missions. We might’ve stopped one trafficking transfer tonight, but I have no doubt that there’ll be plenty more to come.”

For the first time in a very long time, Bruce smiled. It was a small one, the kind that twitched at the corner of his lips and wrinkled the corner of his mirthful, tear-glossed eyes.

He shifted upwards so he sat beside you on the bed, pressing a chaste, affectionate kiss to your forehead. His palm found its way back to your jaw, and he rested his temple against yours.

It’d been three long years since you kissed him.

You arched your neck just enough so his lips would meld over yours. A pained, broken noise fell from Bruce’s throat, and he surged forward, kissing you back with just as much vigor. He missed this. He missed you.

He avoided touching your stomach, afraid that he’d hurt you or rip the stitches of your wound. The last thing he wanted was to explain to Alfred how you’d managed to hurt yourself even more.

As he kissed you, your hands moved to grip his biceps, nails digging into his shirt. His nose bumped softly into yours and he could feel your radiant smile growing against his lips, utterly contagious. Your homely smell, the mesh of cinnamon and gentle lavender invaded his senses, and he nearly started sobbing again at the pure nostalgia from it all.

You were back. You came back to him.

“As lovely as this is,” you husked, voice lowered an octave, “I still need you to promise me you won’t hold me back. You’d be Batman and I’d be… a ghost.” It pleased Bruce immensely to see your chest heaving, and your pupils dilated as they shamelessly darted from his eyes to his lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips in reply. Despite everything that had happened the past few days, he still trusted you to take care of yourself. A thrill shot through him when the cold engagement ring around your neck pressed flush against his chest. “How’d I be able to hold back a ghost, anyway?”

You smiled into him, before tugging him down for another kiss.

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