#the dark knight fanfic

[allysunny]

Hi! Can I pls request dating headcanons for Bale Batman with a female reader who used to works as his assistant but now helps Alfred with batman related work? Like reader is not a superhero but helps Alfred with his duty? Also reader is a very sunshiny person, kind and loving? Thank you ❤️

Lover's Liaison

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 5.7 words

Warnings: Lots of fluff, workplace relationship, kissing and making out, lots of fluff, lots of pining, idiots in love, suggestive themes and one mention of oral sex but nothing too explicit, use of the word "Batmanning", this was written on the span of 3 weeks so I'm sorry if it sucks or isn't coherent?? Not proofread omg I'm so sorry! If I forgot anything, do let me know!!!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Oh my god!!! I finally got around to write this one request that I got mixed up a few weeks ago!!!! I love this dynamic so much and want this man to be my boss only for me to bring him coffee and massage his shoulders omg...

As stated in the warnings though, I am in the middle of my final evaluations and exams, so this was written over the span of like,, 3 weeks. I apologise if some things are not coherent or repetitive, I am trying my best but uni is kicking my ass.

Anyway, I'm sorry it took so long anon!!!! I hope you enjoy this <3

Being Bruce Wayne’s assistant meant a lot of things.

It meant you sometimes pulled all-nighters when your boss decided 8 hours of work simply wasn’t enough.

“Ah, I'm so sorry, but I'm busy that day,” you said sheepishly after Mr. Rivers from Accountancy asked you out for dinner. 

“Come on princess, can’t you tell your big boss to give you a free night? A pretty thing like you shouldn't have to work that much. C’mon, let me show you how a real man should treat you.” He said, cornering you against a desk and inching his hand closer and closer to your waist. 

You looked away uncomfortably, silently praying for him to sense your discomfort and walk away. You didn't want to hurt his feelings or make him mad. You were afraid he’d take it out on you, or worse, on Bruce, by causing harm to his company - and you couldn't have that. 

“Mr. Rivers, I – “ 

“Chet, please. Do call me Chet.” 

“Mr. Rivers,” you repeated, pressing uncomfortably against the desk, not wanting the man’s hands on your body. “Please, this is hardly appropriate. I must go back to my office, and – and – “ 

“I’m sure your boss will understand. You can’t possibly tell me he’s hired you for your skills now, can you? He understands you’re a pretty girl. Surely, he should've known someone would snatch you up, hm?” Mr. Rivers’s grin was catlike, in the worst way possible. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and tears welled up in your eyes at his insinuation. Surely that was not all Mr. Wayne had hired you for, right? He complimented you on your choice of clothing, sure, and he’d once or twice gifted you pieces he said he knew you’d look lovely on. But he had also more than once commended your work ethic, thanked you for your efficiency and praised your skills. He valued you as an employee, not just someone he could look at. Right? 

“Actually, Mr. Rivers, I employ all of my workers based on their skills,” a voice boomed behind the accountant, firm and unwavering. Chet Rivers turned around only to be met with Bruce Wayne’s hard, stony gaze. “And it seems I clearly must've made a mistake with you, because if I had known you’d be treating my employees like this – especially my personal assistant, I wouldn't have allowed you to set foot in Wayne Enterprises. You disgrace my father’s memory by engaging in this type of behaviour inside the company he built.” 

Mr. Rivers scrambled to find a reply, only to stutter a few times and shake his head, at a complete loss for words. 

“Out. Now. I want your office cleared by the end of the day.” 

“But – But Mr. Wayne, I – I have been in this company for years, I – “

“If your office isn't cleared by the time the clock strikes five, I will personally ensure you will never land another job again and carry around a note claiming you are a known sexual harasser. Are we clear?” Bruce said, eyes darkening.

“I – Sir – “ 

“The clock is ticking. If I were you, I'd make quick work of packing.” 

With a few more incoherent words, the now ex-employee was out the door, and Bruce was slowly walking up to you. He gave you enough space to walk away, should you want to, but kept at a friendly distance, should you want him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked in that sweet voice reserved for his closest people – you. 

You nodded quickly, rubbing your arm in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn't want it to come to this, to you firing him. It really was nothing –  “

“Nonsense. He was harassing you. You told him you weren't interested and yet he still pursued you. He should've known ‘no’ is a complete sentence and left you alone. Understood?”

You nodded once again, looking at the floor. Bruce walked even closer and lifted your chin up with your fingers, forcing you to look at him – and yet his grip wasn't bruising. It was soft, feather-like. Bruce touched you as if he was afraid you’d vanish right before his eyes. Maybe he was. 

“It’s not your fault that he acted like an ass. Got it?”

Another nod. 

“Say it for me.”

Your heart would always follow Bruce Wayne. You couldn't refuse anything from him, and so you found yourself whispering a soft “It’s not my fault”, which earned a smile from him. 

“And you’re an amazing worker. You’re efficient and smart, and extremely kind. You're the best personal assistant anyone could've asked for. I hired you for your skills, not your looks. You're extremely competent. The only competent worker around here.” 

You chuckled, familiar with that line. 

“Understood?”

Another curt nod – this one more confident. 

“Say it for me. Please.”

“I’m extremely competent.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

He then seemed to snap back to reality and let go of your face, stepping back. 

“I’ll be in my office for the rest of the afternoon. If you want to, you can have the rest of the day off.”

This caused you to shake your head and smile confidently at him. 

“No need for that. Gotta make sure I do my job, right? Otherwise, who else will?” 

Bruce chuckled at this, and it made your heart flutter. “Exactly.” 

“You haven't eaten yet, so I thought…” you shrugged, handing him the plastic salad containers. 

“What would I do without you?” He asked, looking up from his computer to be met with the most dazzling smile. 

“I’m not sure. But I'm glad I can help.”

“You eaten yet?”

“No sir, not yet.”

“Join me.” 

You didn't have to be asked twice. You found Bruce’s presence relaxing, calm. You liked to be around him. Lunch breaks, just like overtime, allowed you to truly meet the man behind the suit, and you cherish that time with all your heart. It also allowed you to take a good look at him, at his handsome features, his strong jaw and hard eyes that could turn soft within mere seconds. At his lips, so often pressed into a straight line, but also capable of saying the kindest of words. 

Unbeknownst to you, he also took these moments as an opportunity to drink in your beauty. The lovely curve of your face, your sweet lips that managed to brighten up his days, be it with your words or your laughter, the eyes he always looked for when he was nervous, the body he so wished to pull close and worship. 

He was completely whipped by you. And yet he had no idea how to go about it. 

He couldn't just ask you to date him – he was Bruce Wayne. Whoever he dated would be dragged into the public light, and he didn't want people prying into your personal life the way they did to his. Worse than that, he was your boss. He didn't want to taint his company's image by appearing to be some sort of creep who harassed his workers into sleeping or being in relationships with him. He was the boss, of course, and could smother any and all rumours and make sure his company’s image remained the same as his father would have wanted it to be, but most of all, he wanted to protect you. From the scrutiny of coworkers and papers and crazy paparazzi. 

Little did he know, you’d go through all that trouble for him. 

“Be mine,” he said, forehead touching yours as you caught your breath. “Please, be mine. I’m crazy about you, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not. You’re such an incredible woman, so brilliant and bright,” he mumbled, fingers drawing patterns on your skin. “I’m crazy about you. I know I shouldn’t, because I’m your boss, but I just can’t stop thinking about you. I know that I’m asking a lot from you, and if you’re not interested, then you can just say no. We can forget this has ever happened, and it won’t change the way I see you at work. If you want to quit, you can also do so, and I’ll give your next employer the best of recommendations. But,” Bruce lifted his finger to brush a strand of hair away from your face, “I just had to let you know how I feel.”

Although only a few seconds had passed, your silence seemed to extend for hours, and Bruce was ready to carefully put you down on the ground and throw himself off his window, never to be seen again. But when you placed both your hands on his cheeks, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness he hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing in years, he felt hope blossom within him.

“I am yours,” you replied softly, afraid that words louder than those would burst the small bubble of happiness you were hiding in. “I’ve been yours since the day I stepped foot in here. You have my heart, Bruce Wayne. All of you. The smart you, the cheeky you, even the arrogant you that sometimes belittles subordinates over their incompetence – but quickly makes up for it with heartfelt apologies, because that is what your parents taught you. But most importantly, you. The real one. I’ve been yours since day one.”

Bruce offered you one of his beautiful smiles, the genuine ones that had your stomach flipping over itself and leaned over again. You welcomed his kiss with a sigh of content, and a soft sound that sounded awfully a lot like a moan, which had Bruce grip onto you tighter and kiss you a bit rougher. He was tugging at your pencil skirt, and you were just about to make quick work of his tie, when the door to his office burst open.

Without a second thought, Bruce quickly covered your legs with his arms, and hid your face so whoever had just walked in wouldn’t be able to look at you. It was the least he could do to protect you right now, but it was either that or nothing.

“I see you’re quite busy, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius Fox’s voice boomed through the office, a cheeky tilt to it making it known that the sight before him was amusing rather than scandalous. “I’ll return later, if you want me to? Or perhaps, not at all. What if I fax you?”

Bruce chuckled and nodded towards his employee. He could feel your quickened heart rate speed up under the gaze of someone else, and while he felt sorry you two had gotten caught, he couldn’t hide just how adorable you looked, clinging to him like that.

“That’d be perfect, Lucius.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Miss.” Lucius said your last name before leaving and closing the door behind him. When your boss took one good look at your face, he felt the heat on your cheeks and neck, and laughed before pressing a kiss below your ear.

“How come Lucius came in here without knocking? Where the hell is my assistant?”

You smiled sheepishly and ran your fingers through his hair – something you’d always wanted to do. “I don’t you,” you mumbled. “Bet she’s slacking off.”

“I must disagree,” Bruce quipped back, “She’s the most hardworking woman I’ve ever met. No way she’s slacking off.”

“Then she’s probably making out with her boss.”

“Only because he’s crazy about her.”

“She’s crazy about him too.”

Life was perfect ever since.

You couldn’t be seen together for obvious reasons, but that didn’t keep Bruce from stealing you once or twice. Extended lunch breaks, pre-company meetings meetings, post-company meeting meetings, you name it. You’d be on his lap, lazily kissing his frown upside down, next to him, helping him with contracts and files that had been sent incorrectly (and that he could easily fix by himself, but he loved having you near him, and you loved to help), and once or twice he’d had you on top of his desk with him kneeling before you, or sprawled on his couch with he laid on top of you, helping him with that he claimed to be a performance check.

After a few rumours broke out that you had slept your way to the top, you asked Bruce to quit the company. The women in the company, who faked their sympathy and niceness to you because they were utterly jealous of your position as Bruce Wayne’s assistant scowled once you walked past them, giggling and calling you names. You’d tried to ignore them at first, but after the fifty-second “Whore”, you were a sobbing mess, crying on Bruce’s shoulder and begging him to fire you so you wouldn’t have to deal with that any longer.

How typical of you, Bruce thought. Willing to lose your job so someone else won’t have to, even if that someone else’s behaviour is unacceptable. He knew your reasoning though, knew that if he were to fire said women, it’d backfire on him, and all the rumours would be confirmed.

It was a terrible idea really.

But he was also Bruce fucking Wayne, and such things did not matter to him. So instead of firing you, he made his intentions very clear in front of pretty much the entire company at a special anniversary dinner, by kissing your breath away. You were stunned to say the least, when he loudly introduced you to everyone as his lovely girlfriend and said that should anyone have a problem with either him or you, they should take it upon themselves to talk to Bruce personally.

Later that night, he held you tightly in his arms and kissed your forehead, promising that he would never hide you or your relationship from the world ever again. You, on your hand, promised to not listen to the tabloids and the paparazzi.

That was the first time you confessed your love for him, which he eagerly confessed back, before he was tugging at your clothes and his lips were pressed to your neck.

One night, as you were leaving a restaurant with your friends, you were pulled to a dark alleyway and held at gunpoint. The attacker, a man you did not recognise, told you to call your rich boyfriend and started going on about how much he wanted for you. Bruce did not pick up, which made you panic, and made the attacker get even angrier. But before he could do anything about it, a dark figure emerged from the rooftop above you two and knocked the man to the ground.

You’d never seen Batman up close, but he was as intimidating as everyone made him out to be. He tied the man up, called the Gotham Police Department, and you could make out his gruff voice saying something about a Chief Gordon. He then looked at you, and you felt so small, so vulnerable, so weak. Here you were, an insignificant nobody, being saved by Batman. Batman, of all people, who probably had more important things to do other than rescue nobodies like yourself.

But the gentleness in his voice as he asked, “Are you okay?” snapped you out of your trance. Gone was the intimidating vigilante. Before you, stood someone who seemed to care about you and your wellbeing. You nodded and told him you were a bit shook up. He asked you to tell him exactly what had happened, and so you did, carefully going over all the details. Once you mentioned your boyfriend’s name, Batman seemed to wince. You did not understand why.

He took you home, and although you couldn’t quite tell what, there was something in Batman’s presence that made you feel safe, cared for. It was familiar, comforting to be near him. Like you’d known him all your life.

Bruce, on his hand, was freaking out. You’d been targeted because of him. Him. Him. Him. You were going to get hurt because of him. And he’d pay whatever fortune he had to just to keep you safe, but if you’d gotten hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself.

He spent a few more minutes outside, to make it less suspicious, and tried to act surprised when you told him how Batman had saved you.

You hid the details from him though, simply saying you were going to get mugged. You didn’t want to worry him – he was too preoccupied about your life together as it was, trying not to track down whatever assholes wrote those nasty pieces about you in the morning papers, and trying to focus on you instead of the photographer three tables down whenever you went out for coffee.

The two of you were idiots, really, trying to protect each other at all costs.

It only took a few days after the assault for Bruce to break, though. He told you everything, spilled all his secrets about Batman as if he were a sinner in church confessing all his sins. You were shocked, to say the least, but it all clicked in your head quite quickly. The comforting presence, the gentleness in Batman’s voice, the safety – it was all Bruce. Of course it was.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “Please forgive me. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been there…”

“But you were,” you took his hands in yours, gripping them tightly. “You saved me, Bruce, and that’s all that matters. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“It’s not safe for you. If anyone finds out about me, they’ll use you, they’ll get to you, and – “

“You managed to keep your identity a secret all this time. I’m sure you’ll be able to keep doing it.” You leaned towards him and kissed him softly. Bruce responded in kind immediately, taking you in his arms and kissing you with the passion of a man madly in love. His hands roamed your body, fingers deftly remembering every curve and arch and every place that made you whimper against his lips and tighten your hold on him. Within minutes, you were laying on your back, fingers tugging at Bruce’s hair as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, promising – no, swearing to keep you safe forever and ever, declaring his devotion for you.

Some weeks after, he popped a question. Not quite the question, but a very important one nevertheless.

“Quit your job.”

“What?”

“Quit your job at Wayne Enterprises. I can take care of you. I will take care of you. Everyone knows we’re together, and as much as I don’t care about the nasty rumours and petty comments, you’re way safer here.” Bruce took your hand across the couch and rubbed circles on the back of it, thumb brushing against your knuckles. “Alfred and I found out who the attacker was. Remember Chet Rivers?”

“The accountant?”

“To say he was angry would be an understatement. He went after you because he knew it would hurt me. I won’t have this happen again. I love you so much and I appreciate everything you have done and continue to do as my personal assistant, but if this job puts you in harm’s way again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile. It was so like your boyfriend to put you first in every situation.

“And what would I do?”

“Anything, as long as it wasn’t too dangerous.”

“I think everyone in Gotham knows me by now, Bruce. And according to your paranoia, that’d pose a threat.”

Bruce rubbed his jaw pensively and you scooted over, sitting on his lap and facing him.

“You worry too much,” you mumbled, stroking his cheek.

“Is it so wrong if I want to keep the love of my life safe?”

“Not at all. But I also need to live, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just – I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You’re far too precious for that, and I’ve lost so many people – “

You interrupted him with a kiss, a tactic you found quite effective most of the times. He hummed and his breathing slowed as he relaxed.

“If it makes you feel better, then fine. I’ll quit.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I’ll find something else to do. Maybe I can even help Alfred around, you know. Be Batman’s personal assistant. You think he’s hiring?”

This earned a chuckle from Bruce, and a very tight hug.

“I’ll put in a good word for you.”

He did! And you got the job.

At first, you thought being Batman’s personal assistant (a title you wore proudly, even though it annoyed Bruce – after all, this had been achieved so you wouldn’t have to be anyone’s assistant, so you wouldn’t have to work) would be boring, but you quickly got the hang of it and, of course, excelled.

You tracked down which materials made his suit lighter, which ones made him faster, which ones weighed him down. You made lists of the combinations you and Bruce had come up with, to provide him with the perfect bland of speed and lightness, without making him too unprotected.

You took over Alfred’s position, giving the old man some respite as you communicated with Bruce through the intercoms, looking out for him, reminding him to take breaks and occasionally teasing him with the usual “Wanna guess what I’m wearing?” talk – Bruce would never admit this, but it made him patrol the streets quicker, eager to get home and find out just what you were wearing – or weren’t.

Most of the time, Bruce would beg you to go to sleep after he went on patrol. Most of the time, you wouldn’t hear any of it. You wanted to help your boyfriend wash the day off him, rub his sore muscles and kiss his forehead gently as he relaxed against your hold.

“What’re you still doing up?” he asked once, looking over at your figure on top of his bed. Instead of sleeping, you had your nose buried in some book you’d always wanted to read but had never found the time to.

“Waiting for you,” you mumbled, looking up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Shouldn’t have done that. It’s late.” Bruce walked over to you, and you smiled lazily, lifting your arms so he would scoot over next to you. He did so, clad in a pair of shorts, his batsuit (courtesy of his loving girlfriend) long discarded.

“Didn’t want you to come home to an empty house. Wanted you to come home to a smile.”

“Coming home to you is enough,” he chided, playfully touching your nose.

“Bath?”

“Please.”

You prepared a quick bubble bath and got in after him, sitting with your chest pressed against his back as you washed his hair, massaged his scalp, and rubbed his sore shoulders and back. Bruce groaned a few times, finding your touch something close to a miracle.

“On your right – fuck, right there.”

You giggled at how his words sounded out of context, and got your thigh pinched in return.

“Hey!”

“I can tell you’re being dirty. Stop it.”

“Not at all,” you replied, “’m super clean right now.”

After you were both cleaned, Bruce took it upon himself to rinse you and wrap you in your fluffiest of towels. You were nearly asleep to be honest, eyes darting close every few seconds. Thankfully, your boyfriend would not let go, helping you stand up straight and keeping you from falling to the side.

You were extremely exhausted, and Bruce blamed himself for that, but he couldn’t lie – seeing you wait up for him, to make sure he was safe and sound warmed his heart. He hadn’t felt loved like this in a long time, and every day he woke up and thanked whatever deity was looking over him that he got to wake up next to the woman he loved.

It was domestic, in a way.

And it wasn’t like anything had truly changed – after all, you were still taking care of Bruce Wayne, and he was still taking care of you. It was only your circumstances that had changed. Instead of an office, you worked from home, your new home, Wayne Manor. Instead of bringing him coffee, you’d help Alfred around with cooking and busied yourself with your hobbies during the day, so you could help your husband with his duties at night.

And on his hand, Bruce protected you by protecting Gotham.

Don’t get me or him wrong – he didn’t spend all his free time Batmanning. He spoiled you rotten, taking you out for coffee dates and strolls in the park. Often, you’d find little gifts on your bed, just like he used to do when you worked for him. Only this time, they were a bit more personal. Your favourite books and candles, bracelets with his initials, dresses that left a lot to the imagination, pieces of lingerie for his eyes only to see.

But most importantly, you loved each other. More than words could express. You were the light in Bruce’s light. The reason he got out of bed and downed expensive wool and linen suits during the day, and dark Kevlar ones at night. The reason he smiled more often, the reason he had began to believe in love again. Without you, the billionaire was sure he’d be lost in life. Surely, he must’ve done something great in a past one if he now had you in his arms, in his bed, in his life, in his heart.

These were the thoughts running through Bruce’s head as he held your hand. You were both sitting at a restaurant you’d wanted to try for years (“Bruce, please, I beg of you, just get us a reservation at Dorsia,” you’d whined one afternoon, trying to argue your case with a series of convincing kisses to his neck – and how could he deny you, with arguments like those?), having the time of your life as you told him about your day.

Bruce loved the sound of your voice. He’d let you speak for hours on end, about whatever topic you wanted, if it only meant he could listen to you.

In fact, he didn’t need to do any of the talking.

That night, he only had one question to ask of you, the weight of the small box inside his pocket filling him with both excitement and dread.

He only hoped you would say yes.

He needn’t worry.

If the smile on your face after he kneeled was any indication, your thoughts mirrored his.

You could not wait to spend forever together.

A/N: And that's it!!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this!!!! I'll also take this opportunity to warn y'all that this will be my last Bruce piece in a while! I have other requests pertaining other characters, and honestly, I feel like I'm getting a bit exhausted with all the writing I've been doing for him.

I don't want fanfiction writing to become a chore, so I'll be focusing on other characters for now in order not to lose this spark!!! I hope you guys enjoy those pieces as well <3

Stay safe and have a wonderful day ahead!!!!!!! <3<3<3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

THE DARK KNIGHT FANFIC: Joker x OC (Part 7)

Lottie stood outside Wayne Tower, clutching her purse and anticipating the arrival of Rachel Dawes. A taxi cab pulled up, and the passenger door opened. A tall brunette in a tailored grey suit stepped out, smiling at Lottie. Lottie mirrored her smile, giving Rachel Dawes a hug, and sliding back into the car with her.

"So glad to meet you again!" Rachel said, her eyes shining. Lottie could see why Bruce was so attracted to her.

"Yeah! This is cool!" Lottie replied. "I've heard so much about you from Bruce."

Rachel nodded, looking away and changing the subject. "So, we haven't talked in a while. What's been going on with you? Anything fun happening at Gotham University? Any boyfriends... girlfriends...?"

"A little of both." Lottie replied, trying not to appear anxious. "Actually, the girl we're picking up downtown is my girlfriend. Her name is Maya."

"Oh? And does she get along with your boyfriend? I've heard those types of relationships are complicated to manage. You must be a busy girl!" Rachel said playfully.

Lottie laughed, nervous. "They've never met. But yeah, it is complicated."

"And they're both students from Gotham University?" You know, that's a very prestigious school. I used to go there." Miss Dawes added.

Lottie glanced out the window, watching as they passed the Gotham Empire News building. She looked back at Rachel. "I feel like you've been asking me a lot of questions. I'd love to hear a little about you!" Lottie said sweetly. 'Nosy bitch,' She thought.

Rachel studied Lottie's face for a second, then sighed. "I guess that's only fair. I admit, I was asking all those questions because a friend of mine, Lieutenant Gordon, explained to me the strange circumstances of your parents abduction. This city is full of untrustworthy people. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. I'm sure Bruce feels the same."

Lottie felt her heart sink. "Lieutenant Gordon thinks I'm a suspect, doesn't he?"

"Well," Rachel said, placing her hand on Lottie's shoulder, "not exactly. He thinks maybe you got involved unknowingly with the wrong people. Your name was written in fire on the Lau Industries building."

Lottie felt her stomach turn to lead. She had to think fast or she'd appear suspicious. Lottie summoned tears and put on an act of crying from being overwhelmed. "I just don't feel safe, you know? I'm j-just so scared!"

Rachel squeezed her hand, completely buying the petite girl's performance. "I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to upset you."

"I hate to interrupt, but we're here." The cab driver said, stopping the car in front of Maya's apartment building.

Maya ran up to the car, and opened the door and cramming into the only empty seat next to Lottie. "Oh my god, Lottie, you're crying? Who made you cry." She said, turning angrily to the cab driver. "Was it you?"

"No!" Lottie interjected quickly. "No, I'm just... extremely sensitive these days. It's nobody's fault."

Maya relaxed a bit. "Oh, ok. Well, hopefully this shopping trip will be enough to cheer you up!"

The girls arrived shortly after at one of Gotham's fanciest streets, 3rd Avenue, known for its exquisite selection of clothing stores (everything from Miu Miu to Chanel). Rachel informed Lottie while they were shopping that tomorrow night Bruce was hosting a formal fundraiser at the penthouse for Harvey Dent, and that they'd both need to find something nice to wear. Lottie browsed rack after rack of dresses, looking for anything stylish and low cut. Her goal was to bring shame and dishonor on her recently deceased parent's reputation in front of the high society of Gotham. Finally, she settled on the most expensive and revealing dark red dress she could find.

Maya laughed when she saw what Lottie had decided to wear. "You really want to make an impression, don't you?" She couldn't stop giggling. "I only wish I could come as your date. I'd love to see the shocked faces of the other guests!"

Lottie smirked. She leaned in close to Maya so Rachel couldn't hear. "You can always hack the camera and security system if you really want to witness the spectacle. I know you're good at that sort of thing..."

Maya grinned, obviously a fan of that idea. Rachel came out of the dressing room, showing the girls the dress she had picked for the party. Lottie showered her with compliments, and used the black card Bruce had given her to pay for their dresses. After shopping at many more stores, Rachel hailed a cab and they rode back to Maya's house, dropping her off, and then to Wayne Tower, saying their goodbyes. Lottie rushed to the elevator. Shopping had taken all day and it was late evening. If she wanted to get downtown for her shift at the Thrills strip club, she'd have to change quickly, especially if she didn't want to get caught.

#joker fanfic #joker fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight #batman oc #batman fanfiction #christian bale #heath ledger #heath joker #joker x reader #joker #joker x oc #writing #fan fiction

[arianaofimladris]

Third and final chapter for my post Dark Knight story written for Whumptober.

Prompts used:

- No. 15 I'm fine

- No. 19 Floral bouquet

Alfred was about to subtly suggest putting the bouquet down, but as everybody moved to sit again, he had to abandon the idea. Bruce was using the flowers to conceal the fact that he kept his other hand pressed to his abdomen in what seemed to be a vain attempt of keeping the muscles around the wound from twitching whenever he moved. His breathing was carefully controlled, but there was no way to hide the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the sickly paleness. With his hair not gelled back as usual, Bruce really looked like someone who crawled out of his bed just for the service and despite his earlier claims that he was up to the task, Alfred was beginning to think otherwise.

#whumptober2023 #No. 15 #No. 19 #Batman #Bruce Wayne #alfred pennyworth #Bruce Wayne whump #The Dark Knight #The Dark Knight fanfic #Nolan's Batman Trilogy

[okayigetitifuckedup]

Friend I'm not super close to, who found out I write fanfiction: Oh, that's so fun. Like cute fluffy stuff? Me, (Currently working on a nasty little short story about Harley Quinn biting off the Black Mask's nose): Yeah, pretty much.

#fanfiction #fanfics #the dark knight fanfic #harley quinn #Fluff? I only write fluff AFTER horrific scenes of abuse or violence #just to cleanse the palate before the next course

[cillianhead]

Sitting Pretty || Jonathan Crane x Reader

summary: Needy and so incredibly horny, you seek out your boyfriend to treat your ailments.

Here's a little short thing for y'all <3

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, graphic language, swearing, unprotected P in V, slight degradation, praising, there's a bit of slapping but nothing too serious, adult content.

18+ Minors DNI.

Seeking out Jonathan was pretty easy, he finally had a day off of work for once but he was in his study anyway, reading over medical documents, prescriptions, legal forms, and all that boring stuff you didn't particularly care for. He hadn't paid any attention to you all day, a small peck in the morning before he slipped out of bed and went into his home office to work was all he had given you today.

"Jonny?" You asked meekly, creaking the door of his study open. You were in one of his button up shirts, though none of the buttons were done up, leaving your bare chest and stomach on display. He looked up from his work, quirking an eyebrow at you. Just the sight of him, his glasses sitting on his pretty nose and still in his pyjamas as he worked. He looked so handsome, it made you squeeze your bare thighs together.

"What is it, bunny?" Jonathan tilted his head at you, waving you over with a curl of his finger. Your feet padded over to him and you could feel his hungry eyes on your tits, nipples hard from the cold air.

"Need you..." Was all you could get out as you sat on his warm lap, an arm of his slipped around your waist. "Please... you've barely... given me any attention at all today, Jonny..."

Jonathan just smirked as he signed off another bit of paperwork, humming, not giving his full attention to you. You frowned grumpily. "Is that so?" He knew you were all worked up, he knew it from the second you walked into the room with that sad little look on your face. "Well too bad, too busy with work, my love. Maybe later." He mumbled dismissively.

"Please!" You cried, leaning your head into the crook of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. Whining like a needy brat. "I'll take anything you can give me please... please... just need you inside of me, I'll be good, Jonny..."

Jonathan sighed, knowing how you were when you were horny. You wouldn't leave him alone until you got what you want, got what you needed. "I'll tell you what, you can sit on my cock but you're not allowed to move, do you hear me?" He grabbed you by your chin sternly, pen still slotted between his fingers. "No playing around, sweetheart." You just nodded feverishly, you quickly pulled down his pyjama pants, his cock was already hard and red for you. Biting your lip, you slipped down your underwear, letting it fall onto the floor as you ground your wet cunt against his head until you sank down on him, back pressed against his clothed chest. You let out a low moan, squeezing around him, you could hear him take in a deep breath through his nose as he kept writing, knowing your pussy had an intoxicating effect over him.

"F-Feels so good, Jonathan... thank you," You mumbled, trying your best to keep your aching hips still. Your clit throbbed with need as the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix in the most deliciously painful way.

"Now you've got what you want you can just sit there and look pretty for me, darling." Jonathan pinched your sensitive nipple, you gasped at this, clenching around him causing him to let out a throaty groan. "You've gotta stop doing that, baby, or you won't be allowed to sit here anymore." You squeezed his cock again at the nickname which earned you a hard slap on your clit, making you cry.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... you just feel too good..." You whined, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder. He could tell you were struggling to sit still, could tell you still needed more.

You sat there for a little while longer, being good, being obedient while he did his work and his dick sat inside you, cunt hugging it tightly and needily. But you were growing more and more restless by the second.

"Touch your clit f'me," Jonathan whispered deep into your ear. "Want you to cum while sitting on my cock."

"C-Can't..."

"Don't tell me you want me to do it for you too?" He grunted, clearly displeased with your answer. You shook your head with embarrassment. "Pathetic slut, can't even touch yourself, takin' my cock but you also need my fingers too? Greedy bitch." He gave you a smack on your cheek, face stinging, as he slipped his fingers between your sticky folds and rubbed perfect circles on your swollen clit. He was so hot when he was mean.

"Thank you... thank you so much..." You were a stupid mess, wanting to bounce on his cock so bad. He was touching you so perfectly and you hated how it turned you on even further how he continued to do his work even with you sitting on him, his cock fully sheathed inside you and his fingers working your clit, working you closer to your oncoming orgasm. You were thankful for whatever he gave you. Shifting your hips, trying to readjust, to get more friction of some kind, as you felt yourself on the brink of cumming, you got another hard slap on your clit before he continued touching you. "Ow!"

"Remember what I fucking said about no moving." Jonathan grumbled, you felt his dick twitch inside you, you knew he was close too, getting off in the way your pussy perfectly squeezed him.

You were dripping all over him, so wet for him. He twitched inside of you again and suddenly before you could really process what was going on he slammed his pen down and pushed you down over the desk, pushing your face down into the expensive mahogany as he pulled his hips out before slamming right back in. Jonathan couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take the way your pussy squeezed him, he was holding back bucking into you that entire time, so he finally gave in and started fucking you.

"Oh!" You felt yourself unraveling, creaming around him. "Yes!" Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he fucked into you roughly.

"Fuckin' take it, that's it, little girl, take my big cock," Jonathan groaned, slamming in and out of you, his cock hitting your cervix perfectly and heavy balls hitting your clit with a perfect rhythm. "That's a good girl, so fucking good for me, gonna fill you with my cum." You were writhing on the desk, your pussy gushing for him. "So wet, so wet for me, gonna cum... fuck... gonna cum...!" He groaned, spilling his seed into you, filling you with his sweet cum. Stilling his hips completely as he let out his own whiny sounds of pleasure, despite his rough treatment of you, his whines were high pitched and a bit pathetic, it only turned you on further the way his rough exterior melted as he came. You squeezed him further, your own orgasm still going on, milking him of all he's got and smiling to yourself, knowing you got what you want. "Fucking hell." He whispered.

"Thank you... thank you!" You moaned and you could feel his nails digging into your hips as he breathed deeply, coming down from his high. Your clit throbbing and your head spinning, you gasped for air. "Thank you so much... Jonny... love you..."

"So grateful for my cum aren't you?" He hummed, pulling you down with him, down onto his office chair again, softening cock still inside you. Cum dripping out of you slowly. "What a sweet thing you are..." He sniffed your hair, burying his nose in your neck. You just leaned back on him, fucked out and all dumb. Your mind was blank with pure contentment. "Such a dumb pretty little girl... gonna make you my wife." He praised, placing a sloppy kiss on your lips before he slid the chair over to his desk and continued his work.

-

I hope you enjoyed!! <3

#jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #batman #scarecrow #dr crane #cillian murphy smut #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian #batman begins #nolanverse #the dark knight trilogy #dr jonathan crane #the dark knight rises

[princessofmarvel]

Nothing to fear

summary | jonathans girlfriend accidentally takes some fear toxin, while finding out that he is the scarecrow (i suck at summaries, lol)

pairing | jonathan crane x innocent!fem!reader!

word count | 1.2k

genre | fluff with some angst!

requested? | yes! thank you so much for this request @kpopgirlbtssvt i had so much fun writing it! 

warnings! | the reader gets drugged, but I think that’s it! Please let me know if there is anything that I am missing! And, this is not really proofread yet, lol

​​author’s note! | my requests are open for these characters! please send in your requests for blurbs, headcanons, or imagines! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

Jonathan has been at work the entire day, irritated and stressed beyond belief. The only thing getting him through it? Knowing that his beautiful girl was home waiting for him. She called him earlier to let him know that she was going to his place after her last class, he insisted that she just rest after, but she kept saying something about a surprise she had planned. He knew there was no talking her out of it, so he decided that it would be better to just look forward to anything she had planned. 

When he met her, he could have sworn she wasn’t real. She had accidentally bumped into him while she was getting her coffee one day, and knocked his coffee to the ground. She immediately started apologizing, and asking what his order was so she could get him a new one. And, no matter how many times he told her it was fine, and to not worry about it (mostly so he could just hurry on to work) she wouldn’t stop. He finally caved and gave her his order, and she immediately ran and ordered him a new one. She gave it to him with an intoxicating smile on her face while still apologizing. After the encounter Jonathan had to dig deep into his mind and make sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Just to make sure, he went back to the same coffee shop the next morning, and saw her sitting there at a table, her pale pink nails tapping away at her computer, while sipping her drink.  As he was about to leave, she looked up at him, and invited him to sit with her. They sat and talked until the coffee shop was closing up. 

Jonathan unlocked his door and walked into his home, while the smell of a freshly cooked meal immediately hit him in the face. He realized what the surprise must have been. She had mentioned last week how she wished they had enough time to spend a proper meal with each other. He had something planned for the weekend, but she must have beat him to it.  As he walked into the kitchen he saw the lights dimmed, candles lit, and the amazing meal set out on the table. The only thing missing? His angel was nowhere to be seen. He suddenly became very aware of his surroundings as he heard small whimpers coming from the bathroom beyond the shut door. 

“Sweetheart?” He called out, as he knocked on the door. When all he got back was a scared whimper he decided that he couldn’t wait for a response, and walked into the bathroom only to be met with a sight that broke his heart. 

His girlfriend trembling in the corner with tears streaming down her face, the nice dress she had on now all wrinkled up. Her once done up hair had now been messed up from what he imagined would have been her fingers pulling at it. She had her head down on her knees while mumbling something to herself that he couldn’t make out. He didn’t understand what was going on until he noticed the now knocked over, and empty bottle of his fear toxin on the sink. 

“Angel?” He said calmly as he bent to her level, slowly taking her face in his hands as he tried to make eye contact with her eyes darting everywhere but at him. 

“J-Johnny? There was a-” She stopped as she started to sob again. He pulled her into his chest and held her until she started to calm down. 

Once she calmed down enough, he helped her into the shower to calm her, and make sure she knew that whatever it was she saw was fake, but what she was feeling was real. After he helped her get dried off, dressed, and wrapped in a blanket on the couch, he brought her a warm cup of tea, and sat opposite of her, waiting for her to talk first. 

“What was that?” She quietly mumbled out, while taking a sip of her tea, staring straight ahead. 

“It was a fear toxin, something I use on patients.” He tells her slowly in fear of her freaking out, but she stays surprisingly calm, while just staring straight ahead, so he continued. “I give it to them so they can face their fears, and see that it is all just in their heads”

“And the mask?” She asked, finally looking at him, her eyes puffy, and red from all the crying she had done. “I saw it in the case, I went to put it away, but when I picked it up, it was unlocked and everything fell out. It’s the mask of that man they show on the news, is that you Jonathan?” 

He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how to answer this without her freaking out. “Yes, it’s me, and I completely understand if that makes you want to end this.” 

Saying that to her broke his heart, he wanted her to stay, but he knew that if this was too much for her, he needed to let her leave. She was the only person in this world that he could never even dream of hurting, no matter how much it would hurt him. 

“Jonathan, I’m not completely sure what it is that you do, but I do know that you make me feel safer, and happier than any other man in this city could. I’m not sure that I'm ready to know exactly what it is you do, but I’m not ready for this to end.” She has to him in almost a whisper. 

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’ll explain everything when you’re ready.” He says while pulling her down to lay on his chest, while wrapping the blanket around them both. As he kisses her head he notices that she has already fallen asleep, probably worn out from the fear toxin. Jonathan eventually falls asleep with her on the couch, with her all wrapped up in his arms. 

The next morning, Jonthan woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes, and his girlfriend was no longer on his chest. He walks into the kitchen to see her, dancing around the kitchen while fixing breakfast. She jumped a little as he walked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. 

  “Shhhh Sweetheart, it’s just me.” He mumbles into her neck, while leaving small kisses. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I was hungry.” She said to him with a smile, while making them both a plate. 

“Hey Jonathan?” She says while sitting across from him as they ate. “Am I going to get hurt?” she asked him somewhat quietly.

Jonathan made his way to kneel down next to her chair. “Never, that is the last thing that would happen, angel. You have nothing to fear.” He said, looking at her with complete genuineness.  

“Okay” She said to him with a nod, and a smile. Jonathan stood up, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As they pulled away smiling, Jonathan picked her up while she gave a small squeal. He smiled down at her only to see that she was smiling back at him as he carried her to his bedroom. While they were smiling at each other, Jonathan knew that this would all end up all right.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane batman begins #jonathan crane the dark knight #cillian murphy #cillian murphy jonathan crane #jonathan crane cillian murphy #batman begins #the dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane fic #jonathan crane fluff #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane angst #jonathan crane fanfiction #jonathan crane fanfic

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 17,654

Warnings: murder, Joker, robbing banks, minor age gap, implied stalking, technically breaking and entering

Summary: !!Request!! All Y/n wanted was to deposit money into her bank account, but what happens when the bank she arrives at gets robbed by the Joker? And what happens when she catches his eye? (Part Two)

A/N: This was a request from the lovely @Evergreenbellaaaz I hope you enjoy this one as I love the Joker so much, like I would die for this man. Joker is a bit OOC, but he's a bastard, so what can you do? And I did not mean to pop off like this, but here we are! I wrote so much more than I was supposed to but when the words flow, they flow~ I hope you enjoy this, thank you for the request my dear, and love you all 💚

-

The bustling streets of Gotham seemed to close in on Y/n as she walked with purpose, her steps echoing the persistent beat of her anxious heart. Her fingers clutched the small envelope containing a substantial sum of cash, the weight of responsibility bearing down on her. She repeated the words she had rehearsed countless times under her breath, a mantra to calm her nerves.

"I would like to deposit some cash into my account, please," she whispered to herself for what felt like the hundredth time. The crowded cityscape provided an indifferent backdrop to her internal struggle.

The decision to go on this seemingly simple journey, a mere 30-minute trip to the bank, had transformed into a two-week-long ordeal of procrastination. Y/n, who usually had her parents help with mundane chores like this, now found herself standing in front of Gotham City bank. The money she had saved over the past year burned a hole in her pocket, a tangible reminder that it was time to step into the realm of adulthood.

As she approached the imposing facade of the bank, its polished exterior seemed to mock her insecurities. The daunting prospect of facing the unfamiliar banking procedures left Y/n grappling with a sense of unease. Yet, she pressed on, her internal resolve battling against the knots tightening in her stomach.

Entering the turnstile door of the bank, Y/n hesitated at the threshold, momentarily overwhelmed by the sterile environment and the rhythmic hum of conversations. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task at hand.

Getting in line, her voice still a quiet whisper as she practised, "I would like to deposit some cash into my account, please."

"Next!" The call from the person at the counter pierced through the ambient hum of the bank. 

Determination etched across her features, Y/n navigated through the maze of anxiety, reaching the counter with a mix of apprehension and resolve. She placed her trembling hands on the smooth surface of the counter.

The bank employee, a woman with a practiced smile, looked up from her paperwork. "Hi, how can I help you today?" she inquired, her gaze meeting Y/n's with professional courtesy.

"I-I..Um.." Y/n stuttered, feeling the weight of her own vulnerability. The words she had rehearsed so diligently seemed to evaporate in the heat of the moment. "Can I put my cash in my account?" she finally managed to articulate, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

The heat radiating from her neck intensified, the physical manifestation of her anxiety. Despite her efforts, Y/n couldn't escape the self-imposed judgment. After all the practice and mental preparation, she berated herself for stumbling over such a simple request. The bank employee, however, maintained a neutral expression, accustomed to the occasional nervousness of customers.

"Could I get your name and acc-" The woman at the counter was abruptly cut off by the jarring eruption of loud shouts, disrupting the calm atmosphere of the bank.

Y/n's gaze darted towards the source of the commotion, her heart pounding anew as an unforeseen disturbance unfolded, shattering the mundane routine of the day.

A sudden jolt reverberated through the once-calm bank as the turnstile doors spun, revealing an ominous group of men adorned in clown masks. In their hands, they held large guns.

"Get on the ground!" The command was barked, the harsh echo of gunshots accompanying the directive.

Panic erupted, and the bank's atmosphere plunged into disarray. A cacophony of terrified screams reverberated through the air as patrons and employees alike scrambled to obey, dropping to the ground in a chaotic symphony of fear.

Y/n's heart raced at an alarming pace, the sound of her own pulse competing with the pandemonium around her. Legs weakened by a cocktail of adrenaline and terror gave way, making it effortless for her to sink to the cold floor. Huddled against the counter, she sought refuge in the shadows, her trembling form attempting to blend into the background of the unfolding nightmare.

Through the ominous procession of masked invaders, a figure with an unmistakable presence emerged. A man with a face painted in ghastly hues, wild green hair framing his grinning visage, and a purple coat that billowed as he walked. It was a theatrical entrance that left no room for doubt, the Joker had arrived.

The room fell silent, a collective breath held as the Joker's calculating gaze swept across the terrified hostages. His painted face, a canvas for chaos, twisted into a grotesque yellow smile. In that unsettling moment, the Joker had seized control of the bank, turning a routine day into an unforeseen dance with the anarchic force that was the clown prince of crime.

The Joker surveyed the terrified hostages with manic glee. His eyes gleamed with delight as he strolled through the bank, his henchmen maintaining a menacing presence at his side. The air crackled with an unpredictable energy, the tension escalating with each step he took.

"Greetings, my fine friends!" the Joker declared, his voice resonating with a twisted mirth that sent chills down the spines of the hostages.

He paused dramatically, allowing the weight of his presence to settle upon the captive audience. "I hope you're all having a splendid day! I know I am!"

He gestured to the chaos around him, as if orchestrating a chaotic symphony. The hostages, cowering on the ground, exchanged fearful glances as the Joker continued his morbidly cheerful monologue. "You see, life is just a series of unexpected events. One moment, you're withdrawing cash, and the next, you're starring in a show you never signed up for!"

A twisted grin etched across his face as he revelled in the discomfort of his captives. "But fear not, my dear friends! The Joker is here to add a splash of color to your dull lives! And what's life without a little chaos, eh?"

The Joker's eyes scanned the crowd, and then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they locked onto Y/n. The corners of his mouth curled into a wicked grin. The Joker's voice cut through the tense silence, a raspy symphony of madness that sent shivers down the spines of everyone in the bank. His unnerving smile widened as he surveyed the captivated audience.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he mused, his words dripping with malicious amusement.

His eyes, obscured by the chaos-inducing makeup, seemed to fixate on Y/n huddled near the counter. "A little bunny who wandered into my little party. What's your name, darling?"

Y/n's throat tightened, fear and uncertainty mingling within her. She stammered, "Y-Y/n," the words barely audible over the palpable tension in the air.

"Y/n!" the Joker exclaimed, drawing out each syllable as if savoring it. "Such a lovely name for such a lovely surprise! Welcome to the show!" He chuckled, the sound echoing like eerie music in the confines of the bank.

The atmosphere within the bank was suffocating, thick with fear and tension. The masked henchmen moved with ruthless efficiency, pointing their guns at helpless hostages and demanding compliance as they forcefully filled bags with money. The metallic scent of panic lingered in the air, and the dissonance of terrified sobs mingled with the Joker's maniacal laughter.

Yet, in the midst of the chaotic tableau, the Joker's focus remained fixated on Y/n. His eyes, obscured by the painted mask, bore into her with an unsettling intensity that sent shivers down her spine. The manic energy surrounding him seemed to warp the very air, making the atmosphere oppressive and surreal.

The Joker's henchmen continued their menacing work, but the Joker himself stepped closer to Y/n, the unnerving smile on his face never wavering. It was as if the rest of the bank faded away, leaving only the two of them locked in a macabre dance.

"Y/n," he purred, his voice a dark melody against the backdrop of chaos. "You're a breath of fresh air in this dreary city. I can't help but feel a certain... connection between us. Don't you?"

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, the gravity of the situation intensified by the Joker's unwavering attention. The menacing environment and the Joker's unpredictable nature created a concoction of fear that gripped her, making her acutely aware that, in the midst of this criminal spectacle, she had become an unwitting focal point in the Joker's deranged performance.

The menacing henchmen continued to patrol the terrified hostages, their eyes devoid of empathy. The Joker, however, maintained an unsettling focus on Y/n, as if sensing a peculiar energy in the air.

"Now, my dear Y/n, since you're the guest of honor, how about you do something special for me?"

Y/n's eyes widened with trepidation, her mind racing to comprehend the surreal situation. The Joker's unpredictable nature made every second feel like an eternity.

"I-I don't... I don't know what to do," she stammered, her voice barely reaching the Joker's ears.

He threw back his head in laughter, the sinister sound reverberating through the bank. "Oh, darling, that's the beauty of it! Surprise me! Dance a little, sing a song, or maybe tell me a joke. I do love a good joke!"

Caught between the threat of violence and the Joker's eccentric demands, Y/n felt the weight of an impossible choice. Little did she know, her unassuming visit to the bank had transformed into an unexpected performance in the Joker's twisted carnival of chaos. The Joker, seemingly unbothered by her hesitation, circled Y/n like a predatory cat closing in on its prey. 

"No worries, darling. Sometimes silence speaks louder than words," he mused, his voice carrying an unsettling blend of whimsy and menace.

Y/n, caught in the crosshairs of the Joker's peculiar attention, remained frozen, her anxiety immobilizing her like a deer in headlights. However, the Joker, never one to let an opportunity for chaos slip away, decided to take matters into his own hands.

With an abrupt motion, the Joker twirled Y/n around to face him. "Since you're not in the mood for words, how about a dance?" he suggested, a maniacal glint in his eyes.

Without waiting for a response, he began to move, his own twisted rhythm guiding Y/n's hesitant steps. Everyone in the bank now bore witness to a macabre dance between the Clown Prince of Crime and an unwilling participant. Y/n stumbled through the grotesque waltz, her movements a stark contrast to the Joker's fluid, unpredictable motions.

The masked henchmen paused in their looting, their attention momentarily diverted to the unexpected spectacle. The Joker's laughter blended with the discordant echoes of the bank, turning the once-sterile environment into a nightmarish stage for an impromptu performance orchestrated by Gotham's most infamous criminal.

Within the chaotic vortex of the bank, Y/n felt the grip of anxiety tightening around her like an invisible vice. Her chest constricted with each strained breath, and her pulse echoed loudly in her ears, a relentless drumbeat of fear. The oppressive weight of the Joker's attention bore down on her, intensifying the already overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

As the Joker's manic laughter reverberated through the bank, it echoed in Y/n's mind, amplifying her sense of powerlessness. Her thoughts became a cacophony of self-doubt and fear, drowning out any rational response she might summon. 

Her mind, usually a refuge, had become a battleground of conflicting emotions, where anxiety and terror waged a relentless war against any semblance of control. In that moment, Y/n found herself caught between the stark contrast of the Joker's madness and her own silent struggle with the debilitating grip of social anxiety.

The Joker's gloved hand, cool and unsettlingly steady, closed around Y/n's arm like a vice. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, the contrast between his cold grasp and the warmth of her own fear-ridden skin intensifying the surreal nature of the encounter. His fingers, adorned in faded purple gloves, curled possessively around her.

The wad of cash in an envelope, her hard-earned savings, nestled uncomfortably in the pocket of her coat. The crinkling sound it made served as a cruel reminder of the mundane purpose that had led her to this twisted encounter with Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime.

“What’s this bunny?” the Joker whispered, reaching into her pocket.

In a swift motion, the Joker took the envelope from Y/n's pocket. The Joker's painted eyes lingered on the crumpled envelope, a twisted fascination dancing within their depths. His gloved fingers traced the edges of the paper, feeling the texture of the cash hidden within. The manic grin on his face widened, a malevolent satisfaction painting his features with an unsettling glow.

"Well, well, well," he mused, his voice a sinister purr. "Looks like we've got a bit of money here. What were you planning to do with all this pretty money, hmm?" His tone, mocking and playful, cut through the air, adding another layer of discomfort to Y/n's already fraught nerves.

The Joker's eyes, still fixed on the cash, momentarily flickered up to meet Y/n's terrified gaze.

"You know, pretty thing, money makes the world go round, buT chaos... chaos gives it that extra spin," he declared, his words carrying a perverse wisdom.

With an unexpected gentleness, he placed the crumpled envelope back into Y/n's trembling hands.

"There you go, darling," he sneered, his voice dripping with faux courtesy.

"You're pretty, and you get to keep your money. Consider it a gift from the Clown Prince of Crime himself!" The Joker's laughter, sharp and discordant, echoed through the bank, leaving Y/n to grapple with the bizarre reality that she had been granted reprieve in the midst of the madman's carnival.

The Joker abruptly stopped dancing, releasing Y/n with a dramatic flourish. As the eerie music of chaos continued to play in the background, Y/n, drained and disoriented, stumbled and fell to the unforgiving floor. The Joker, seemingly disinterested, began to saunter away, his vibrant purple coat trailing behind him.

Y/n watched the Joker's retreating figure, a mix of fear and confusion etched across her face. His manic laughter echoed through the bank as he distanced himself, leaving her in the wake of the strange encounter.

Just when Y/n began to believe the nightmare might be over, the Joker, in a surprising turn, paused and turned back to her.

"On second thought," he said, his painted eyes fixated on her as if reconsidering something. 

With a swift movement, he approached his henchmen, and Y/n's breath caught, fearing he might grab a weapon.

To her bewilderment, however, the Joker reached into the bag of ill-gotten gains and pulled out a handful of cash. He approached Y/n with a malevolent smirk, crouching down beside her, holding the money out before her like an offering.

"Treat yourself," he quipped, the words dripping with a macabre generosity. "Buy you something pretty, bunny," His yellowing teeth flashed in a grin that sent a chill down Y/n's spine.

Y/n hesitated, glancing at the proffered money, her mind reeling from the bizarre twists of the encounter. The Joker, seemingly satisfied with his whimsical act of kindness, stood up again and walked out of the bank, leaving Y/n alone on the cold floor amidst the remnants of his chaotic performance.

The minutes that followed felt like a surreal blur to Y/n. The bank continued to echo with the disjointed sounds of the robbery, the erratic footsteps of the henchmen, the muffled cries of hostages, and the lingering aura of fear that permeated the air.

As she struggled to regain her bearings, the presence of law enforcement gradually became apparent. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment. Uniformed police officers, their expressions a mix of urgency and determination, streamed into the bank, ushering bewildered hostages towards the exit.

Y/n, still seated on the floor, felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, the touch snapping her back to a hazy reality. A police officer, their voice calm and reassuring, urged her to stand and guided her towards the exit. Her movements were mechanical, her mind a foggy labyrinth of emotions.

The daylight outside the bank entrance felt harsh against her dilated pupils. As Y/n emerged, she blinked, trying to return to the real world after what she had just experienced. The police ushered her to safety along with the other hostages.

As they moved away from the scene, Y/n instinctively slipped her hand into her pocket, the touch of cold, crumpled paper grounding her in the midst of confusion. Fingers tracing the contours of the secret wad of cash, she was jolted back to the disconcerting reality of the encounter. The bills felt real, tangible, serving as an unsettling reminder that the Joker had indeed been there and given her some sick kind of special attention.

The police officer continued to speak words of reassurance, but Y/n's attention remained fixated on the unexpected gift nestled in her pocket. The cash became a tangible link to the bizarre dance with madness, a connection to the maniacal clown who had momentarily disrupted her ordinary world.

As they moved further away from the bank, the distant wails of sirens and the controlled urgency of emergency personnel gradually replaced the dissonance of the robbery. Y/n's gaze remained distant, her mind grappling with the unnerving realization that, in the pocket of her jeans, she held a token of the surreal encounter that would continue to haunt her thoughts for days to come.

-

The revelation of the secret wad of cash tucked away in her pocket served as a haunting memento of the surreal encounter with the Joker. Y/n couldn't shake the eerie feeling that the crumpled bills held a weight beyond their monetary value.

To her muted surprise, the Gotham City police remained oblivious to the extra bit of money concealed in her pocket. Y/n, having seen the police's shortcomings on the news, didn't expect them to figure out what happened after the Joker's bank robbery.

Yet Y/n hesitated to use the money. She knew better than to tempt fate by using the illegal bills into her routine transactions. The very nature of the Joker's strange generosity hinted at potential consequences, and Y/n, despite her limited understanding of the intricacies of money, sensed the looming risk associated with its dubious origins.

Her reluctance to touch the Joker's gift stemmed not only from the fear of being caught but also from an inherent understanding of her own luck, or lack thereof. The dodgy bills, like a ticking time bomb, held the potential to unravel her ordinary life in a city that seemed to thrive on chaos.

Surviving the close encounter with the Joker left Y/n in a state of disbelief. The fact that she had danced with the Clown Prince of Crime and emerged unscathed defied all logic. The disconcerting notion that countless eyes had likely observed the bizarre spectacle haunted her thoughts, yet she felt a sense of relief that the aftermath of the incident remained shrouded in a peculiar silence.

As the days passed, Y/n couldn't shake the lingering shadows of the encounter, each quiet moment a reminder that the Joker's presence had brushed against the edges of her reality. 

-

A week had slipped by since the bank incident, a span of time that, thankfully, saw no follow up from the police. However, the absence of police activity also meant the unsettling reality that the Joker remained on the loose, and the thought haunted the edges of Y/n's consciousness. She fervently prayed that she would never find herself entangled in such a dangerous situation again.

On this particular late Thursday night, Y/n found herself navigating the dimly lit streets of Gotham. The late hours found her consumed by a craving for lollies, the lengthy study session still lingering in her mind. With the hood of her jacket up, she set off towards the nearby dairy, nestled conveniently around the corner from her university dormitory.

To her dismay, the familiar glow of the store's neon sign was conspicuously absent as she arrived at her destination. The store, known for it’s convenience, stood shuttered and silent. Faced with the closed doors, she felt a pang of embarrassment at the thought of returning empty-handed to her dormitory.

Refusing to let disappointment deter her, Y/n forged ahead. With a sigh, she continued down the street, her mind racing to recall the location of the next closest dairy. Though her steps were fueled by determination, a flicker of unease danced at the edges of her awareness, a lingering reminder of the precarious nature of life in Gotham.

Y/n's unease proved to be justified as she approached a group of men ahead. Despite her attempts to keep a low profile by bowing her head and hoping to pass by unnoticed, fate had different plans for her that night. As she drew nearer to the group, one of the men stepped forward, blocking her path with an unsettling certainty.

"Hey there, girly. What brings you out at this hour?" the man taunted, his words backed-up by the laughter of his companions.

A wave of numbness washed over Y/n, her instincts screaming at her to flee. Yet, as she tried to navigate around the imposing figure before her, he moved deliberately in front of her, effectively halting her progress.

"Whoa, hold on now. Where do you think you're going?" the man demanded, his voice laced with a menacing edge.

Desperation clawed at Y/n's throat as she pleaded for them to leave her be, her voice barely more than a whisper as she continued to avoid meeting their gaze.

"Please, just let me pass," she whispered, her heart hammering in her chest.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. In a cruel twist of fate, one of the men reached out and tugged at her hoodie, exposing her to their scrutinizing stares. As Y/n lifted her gaze, her heart plummeted at the realization that she was now surrounded by five intimidating figures, their intentions unclear and her sense of safety shattered.

Y/n's heart leaped into her throat as one of the men reached into her pocket, extracting her wallet with a disregard for her privacy. "How much cash have we got here?" the man asked, his voice dripping with malicious intent.

With a sinking feeling, Y/n watched helplessly as a couple of the men gathered around, peering into her wallet with a grim curiosity. In that moment, instinct overrode reason, and Y/n's survival instincts kicked into high gear.

Without a second thought, Y/n bolted, her adrenaline-fueled flight propelling her past the looming figures that had moments ago surrounded her. She knew she was leaving her wallet behind, but in that split second decision, the preservation of her life outweighed any material possession.

As the men's shouts echoed behind her, Y/n's heart raced with a frantic rhythm, her feet pounding against the pavement in a desperate bid for escape. With every stride, she pushed herself harder, her mind a whirlwind of fear and determination.

In the darkness of the night, Y/n's gaze darted around, searching for a path to safety. Spotting an alleyway ahead, she made a split-second decision and veered off course, her feet carrying her into the murky depths of the narrow passage.

Though rational thought whispered warnings against running into the unknown, Y/n pressed on, her singular focus on outpacing her pursuers. With each step, the alleyway seemed to stretch endlessly before her.

Glancing over her shoulder, Y/n's heart sank as she realized the men were gaining on her with each passing moment. Y/n berated herself for the inevitable mishap as her foot caught on a discarded piece of rubbish, sending her crashing to the ground in a painful heap.

A scream tore from her lips as she tumbled to the unforgiving pavement, her hands and knees absorbing the most of the impact. Pain lanced through her body, tears welling in her eyes from a potent mixture of fear and agony. With trembling hands, she turned herself around, still on the ground, her gaze darting frantically to the looming figures that now stood before her.

But to her astonishment, the men's attention wavered, their cruel sneers faltering as their gaze shifted to something behind her. Confusion clouded Y/n's mind as she turned to follow their line of sight, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight that greeted her.

Approaching from the shadows was another figure, one whose presence exuded a chilling aura of authority and menace. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched the men scramble in terror, their boldness crumbling in the face of this new threat.

“A-ta-ta..” The scarred man's voice was a low, ominous growl as he continued his relentless advance, a gun trained on the men before him.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as the figure emerged into the dim light of the alleyway. It was the Joker, his painted visage twisted into a malevolent grin as he surveyed the scene before him.

“Drop the wallet,” the Joker demanded, his voice a cold command that brooked no argument.

With trembling hands, the man holding Y/n's wallet complied, the leather hitting the ground with a dull thud. “Now empty your pockets,” the Joker commanded once more, his gaze piercing through the darkness with an intensity that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

The men, cowed by the Joker's presence, complied with his demands, the sound of coins and notes hitting the ground echoing through the alleyway. The Joker's eyes lingered on the scattered loot for a moment before he turned his attention back to the trembling figures before him.

A single shot rang out, reverberating through the alleyway with a deafening roar. Y/n's heart leaped into her throat, but to her relief, the bullet was aimed just past the men, a warning shot that sent them scrambling in a desperate bid for escape.

As the men fled into the shadows, Y/n watched in awe as the Joker stood victorious, his enigmatic presence commanding the darkness. In that moment, she couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of fear and gratitude toward the sinister figure who had intervened on her behalf.

Y/n's breath hitched as she watched the Joker step around her like a predatory cat, his movements unsettling. The sight of him crouched to retrieve the scattered money from the ground sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she couldn't afford to linger, the threat of her own demise looming like a dark cloud overhead.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Y/n pushed herself up from the ground, her body protesting with each movement. Pain flared through her limbs from the impact of the fall, but the urgency of the situation drowned out her discomfort.

"Where do you think you're off to, bunny?" the Joker's gravelly voice sliced through the air, sending a jolt of fear coursing through Y/n's veins.

She froze, her gaze locked on the Joker's figure as he deposited the money into her wallet. The mere sight of him instilled a primal fear in her, his unpredictability casting a long shadow over her trembling form.

The Joker's piercing gaze bore into her, demanding her attention. "I asked you a question," he repeated, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

"M-my dorm," Y/n stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The Joker's scarred lips curved into a sinister grin, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "Without your wallet?" he inquired, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Y/n's heart raced as she struggled to find an answer, her mind racing with the implications of the Joker's words. In that moment, she realized that escaping the Joker's clutches might prove to be an even greater challenge than evading the men who had mugged her.

The Joker held her wallet up, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes as he toyed with her. With trembling hands, Y/n reached out for the wallet, her fingers hovering uncertainly in the air. But before she could grasp it, the Joker's iron grip closed around her wrist, pulling her closer with a sudden, startling force.

A strangled cry escaped Y/n's lips as she was yanked towards the Joker, her mind immediately jumping to the worst possible scenarios.

"Is my little bunny hurt?" the Joker's voice rang out, his tone deceptively gentle as he inspected her injured palm.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as the Joker's cold fingers traced the raw scrapes and bruises marring her skin, the gritty residue of stones and dirt clinging to the wounds. The contact sent a shiver down her spine, her fear magnified by the intimate proximity of their encounter.

The realization dawned on Y/n that she was utterly vulnerable, alone with the Clown Prince of Crime in the dim recesses of the alley. The terror that had gripped her at the bank now intensified tenfold, every instinct screaming at her to flee.

Yet, to her astonishment, the Joker's demeanor shifted unexpectedly. He tucked her wallet into his own pocket, much to Y/n's dismay. But instead of furthering her despair, he shrugged off his coat.

Y/n stiffened as the Joker draped the coat around her shoulders, the weight of the fabric heavy and thick. The gesture was unnerving, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos that had defined their encounters thus far. She stood frozen in place, her mind reeling with the unsettling realization that, in the twisted world of Gotham, even the most malevolent of figures could harbor empathy.

"Can't have my bunny freezing, can I?" The Joker's gravelly voice cut through the tense silence, his words tinged with an unsettling mix of concern and mockery.

Y/n stood frozen in place, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. This unexpected act of kindness from the notorious Clown Prince of Crime felt like a twisted joke, leaving her at a loss for words.

Her thoughts spun in a dizzying whirl as she struggled to comprehend the surreal turn of events. Why was the Joker, of all people, extending such an unusual gesture towards her?

"As much as I'd love to walk you back to your dorm, I've got places to be," the Joker continued, his tone casual as he turned on his heel, his figure receding into the shadows of the alley.

“Goodbye, Bunny,” his voice echoed in the alleyway.

Y/n watched him go, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity gnawing at her insides. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that clung to her like a second skin, her mind racing with unanswered questions.

Turning her attention to the coat draped around her shoulders, Y/n felt a wave of disorientation wash over her. It felt surreal to be adorned in the Joker's iconic attire, a stark reminder of the surreal encounter she had just experienced.

As she made her way home, the weight of the coat hung heavy upon her, its unfamiliar presence a constant reminder of the surreal chain of events that had unfolded in the dimly lit alley. Y/n prayed fervently that no one would recognize the coat she wore, fearing the inevitable questions and suspicions that would surely follow.

Each step felt like a surreal blur, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing moment. Y/n couldn't shake the nagging feeling that her encounter with the Joker was far from over, his presence lingering in the shadows of her thoughts like a haunting specter.

-

A day had passed since that second encounter, yet Y/n still struggled to wrap her mind around the surreal turn of events. The Joker, of all people, had saved her. The very same man who had orchestrated a bank robbery only days before had intervened to rescue her from a potential mugging. It was a twist of fate that defied all logic and left Y/n grappling with a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief.

As she gazed at the purple coat draped across her chair, Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her. The garment served as a tangible reminder of the unlikely alliance forged in the depths of Gotham's shadows, a silent testament to the bond she now shared with the Clown Prince of Crime.

It was a paradox that baffled her, and while the events of the past day had left her shaken and uncertain, one thing was clear. the Joker's actions had defied all expectations, leaving Y/n to grapple with the unsettling realization that perhaps, in the twisted world of Gotham, even the most notorious of villains could harbor a spark of unexpected humanity. Y/n couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at her, the weight of the garment heavy with unanswered questions.

What was she supposed to do with it now?

The thought lingered in her mind, casting a shadow over her already troubled thoughts. Would the Joker come looking for it? Or would it remain in her possession, a permanent reminder of the inexplicable bond forged in the darkness of Gotham's alleys?

Either scenario filled her with a sense of dread. The thought of the Joker tracking her down sent shivers down her spine, while the prospect of being forever tethered to the coat felt like a suffocating burden.

As fate would have it, the coat laying over her chair would soon be the least of her worries.

-

Upon returning to her dorm from a long day of lectures, Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she stepped into her room, greeted by the absence of the Joker's coat. Initially, the sight would have brought her immense relief, were it not for the unsettling realization that its disappearance hinted at a much more alarming reality that the Joker had been in her room.

A shiver traced its way down her spine as she scanned the room, her senses on high alert. With cautious steps, she made her way to her desk, her movements tense with apprehension. Flipping through the scattered belongings, she breathed a tentative sigh of relief as she realized that nothing appeared to be missing, well, aside from the mess she had inadvertently created.

But just as she began to relax, her eyes fell upon an unexpected discovery nestled within her drawer, a piece of paper adorned with a smudged smiley face, drawn in what looked like lipstick or face paint. With trembling hands, Y/n retrieved the paper, her heart pounding in her chest as she turned it over.

"Use the money, Bunny," the words scrawled across the paper sent a chill down her spine, the possible meaning of the message sinking in with a nauseating weight.

Fighting back a rising tide of panic, Y/n tentatively reached into the drawer, her fingers closing around the familiar wad of cash. Yet, to her astonishment, her touch encountered not one, but two bundles of bills, an unexpected windfall courtesy of the Joker himself.

The realization left her reeling, her mind spinning with disbelief. What did it all mean? And more importantly, what did the Joker want from her now? As she grappled with these unsettling questions, one thing was certain: the enigmatic Clown Prince of Crime had once again thrust her into the midst of his twisted game leaving her with a handful of cash and a trail of unanswered questions.

-

Once again, Y/n found herself walking down the Gotham's streets under the cloak of night, a decision she had sworn she wouldn't repeat after her previous night. Yet, the suffocating crowds of the city's daytime bustle left her feeling more vulnerable than ever, driving her back to the relative solitude of the nocturnal streets.

With her hands buried deep in her pockets, Y/n hurried along the familiar path to her usual convenience store, her steps quickened by a sense of urgency that seemed to permeate the very air around her. Despite the familiarity of the route, each shadow seemed to loom larger, every alleyway a potential trap lying in wait.

Finally reaching her destination, she breathed a sigh of relief as she confirmed that the store was indeed open this time, a small victory in the face of Gotham's relentless chaos. Snagging a couple of snacks, she wasted no time in completing her purchase before slipping back out into the night.

As she walked briskly down the dimly lit street, her senses on high alert, Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she neared an ominous alleyway, a dark abyss from which the muffled sounds of distress emanated. Her pulse quickened with apprehension, her instincts screaming at her to turn and flee.

With a sinking feeling, she realized that she was frozen in place, her feet refusing to carry her past the source of the chilling cries for help. And then, as if on cue, a desperate voice shattered the silence, cutting through the night like a knife.

"Help me!" the plea echoed through the darkness, sending a shiver down Y/n's spine. 

Y/n's heart plummeted as the menacing figures in the alleyway pivoted to fix their gaze upon her, their predatory stares sending a chill down her spine. And then, as if materializing from the very shadows themselves, the unmistakable voice of the Joker sliced through the night air, his mocking tone dripping with sinister amusement.

"Well, well, if it isn't my Bunny," the Joker's voice rang out, a dark melody that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Y/n abandoned her purchases, her only thought to escape the clutches of the Clown Prince of Crime. With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she bolted down the streets of Gotham, her breaths ragged and panicked.

The cacophony of her own heartbeat drowned out all other sound, the pounding rhythm echoing in her ears as she careened through the streets. Her vision blurred with tears of fear and desperation, each stride carrying her farther from the looming specter of the Joker. It felt like everytime she left her dorm, she was being chased or attacked.

As she approached a bustling intersection, Y/n's resolve wavered, her frenzied mind teetering on the edge of recklessness. With a reckless abandon born of sheer panic, she made a split-second decision, her foot poised to step into the path of an oncoming car.

But just as she was about to leap into the unknown, a firm grip seized her hoodie, yanking her back with a jolt. She stumbled backwards, her heart pounding in her chest as she was pulled into the safety of the man's embrace behind her.

The adrenaline-fueled rush subsided, replaced by a wave of overwhelming relief as Y/n realized the gravity of the narrow escape.

"What, are you fucking crazy? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" the man's voice, tinged with exasperation, cut through the haze of panic.

Her skin still tingling with the remnants of fear, Y/n bristled at the accusation, her indignation rising in the face of the Joker's audacious presence. With a defiant shove, she attempted to break free from his grasp, only to find herself ensnared once more by the iron grip of the man behind her.

Y/n's voice quivered with fear as she pleaded for mercy, her words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "Please! I didn't see anything! I'm sorry!"

The Joker's gaze bore down upon her with an unsettling intensity, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Her eyes followed down his body to his other hand, her heart lurching in her chest as she caught sight of the glinting blade clasped within his grasp. With a strangled cry, she recoiled, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.

"Quit it with the screaming, okay!" the Joker snapped, his tone brusque as he silenced her.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she struggled to compose herself, her hands trembling with the weight of her fear.

"Don't hurt me, please..." Y/n's voice cracked with desperation, her plea hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

The Joker's response showed he was clearly irritated. "I'm not going to hurt you," he retorted, his tone dripping with annoyance.

Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze darting to the glinting blade still held within the Joker's grasp. "You have a knife!" she pointed out, her voice trembling with apprehension.

The Joker waved her concern away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Forget about the knife," he declared, his attention already drifting elsewhere.

"What do you want from me?" Y/n's voice quivered with uncertainty, her gaze locked on the figure before her.

But the Joker merely chuckled, his response cryptic and evasive. "I popped by the other day. You weren't home so I just let myself in," he explained, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at her incredulous expression.

"Yeah... I fucking noticed," Y/n retorted, looking at his purple coat.

The Joker's laughter filled the street at her remark, his amusement seemingly boundless. "How did you even get in?" Y/n demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and disbelief.

"With locks like those, it's hard not to," the Joker replied with a smirk, his gaze sweeping over her with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"How did you even figure out where I lived?" Y/n pressed, her curiosity outweighing her fear.

But the Joker's response was infuriatingly vague. "Does it matter?" he quipped, his tone flippant as he dismissed her question with a wave of his hand.

Y/n felt frustrated as she realized the conversation was going nowhere. The Joker's vague answers only made her feel more uneasy.

"Why don't we walk back and grab your things, hmm?" the Joker suggested, his tone oddly casual despite the gravity of their situation.

Though wary of his intentions, Y/n reluctantly agreed, her steps hesitant as they set off together. But rather than walking alongside her as one might expect, the Joker lingered just slightly behind, a shadowy presence that loomed ominously in her peripheral vision.

Feeling the weight of his gaze upon her, Y/n came to a sudden halt, her unease bubbling to the surface. With a trembling voice, she addressed the Joker, her eyes fixed on the ground before her. 

"Can you please walk beside me," she whispered, her words barely audible above the noise of the city.

The Joker's response was a flash of amusement, his grin spreading across his face like a twisted caricature.

"Aww, does the bunny want to hold my hand?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

Y/n was taken aback as the Joker's gloved hand enclosed hers, his grip firm yet strangely comforting. With her heart racing, she found herself being led by the mysterious figure, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her mind.

With every step, Y/n felt the Joker's imposing presence bearing down on her, making her feel suffocated. Despite feeling trapped, she had no choice but to accept the strange reality of their situation. She kept her eyes focused on the ground as they walked through the dimly lit streets of Gotham side by side.

As Y/n returned to the alley, she heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing her purchases relatively unscathed, their packaging intact. However, the same couldn't be said for the bag that once held them, it lay torn open, now unuseable.

Gathering her items into her arms, Y/n cast a wary glance down the alley, the eerie silence a stark contrast to the screaming that had driven her to flee in the first place. The unsettling thought made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

Beside her, the Joker stood with an air of nonchalant observation, his hands tucked into the depths of his trench coat pockets. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned two of his lackeys, who hurried to his side at his command.

"You got a bag?" the Joker asked, his tone tinged with impatience.

"Um, no boss," the two men replied in unison, exchanging a hesitant glance.

Clicking his tongue in frustration, the Joker's gaze flicked back to Y/n. "We can go grab you one if you need," one of the men offered.

"Forget it, just go sort that out and I'll meet you in an hour," the Joker dismissed them with a wave of his hand, gesturing down the alley.

As the men scurried off to comply with his orders, the Joker turned his attention back to Y/n, his gaze piercing. "Give me those," he commanded, snatching the food from Y/n's grasp before she could protest.

"I-I can—" Y/n attempted to speak up, only to be silenced by the Joker's sharp interruption.

"Quiet," he snapped, cutting her off with a steely glare.

Efficiently, the Joker began to stuff the items into his pockets, reserving the larger items like chips to hold in his hands.

"Now, let's get you back to your dorm, hmm?" the Joker suggested, turning to address Y/n once more, his demeanor unsettlingly calm amidst the chaos of the alleyway.

Reluctantly, Y/n nodded. She knew arguing with the Joker would only lead to more trouble, and she was already on edge from their encounter. Clutching the remaining items tightly to her chest, she followed the Joker as he led the way to her university hostel.

As they walked, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Every step felt heavy, weighted down by the knowledge that she was at the mercy of the Clown Prince of Crime. She stole glances at him from the corner of her eye, unable to decipher the enigmatic expression on his face.

The journey back to her dorm felt endless, each passing moment filled with tension and uncertainty. Y/n's mind raced with a myriad of questions, but she dared not voice them aloud, fearing the Joker's unpredictable response.

To her surprise, Y/n didn't need to initiate the conversation. "I'm guessing you still haven't touched my gifts," the Joker remarked, his tone casual yet tinged with annoyance.

Y/n furrowed her brow in confusion. "Gifts?" she echoed.

The Joker rolled his eyes in exasperation. "The money. The two bricks of money I gave you," he clarified impatiently.

A sense of unease crept over Y/n as she realized the gravity of the Joker's words. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

"I... no, I haven't used them," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

"Why not?" the Joker demanded, his frustration palpable.

"W-well, it's not really... my money," Y/n stammered, her nerves getting the best of her.

"Ahh, yeah it is... I gave them to you," the Joker countered sharply.

"I know that, but... it's illegal money," Y/n explained, her words rushed and hesitant.

The Joker scoffed, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand. "Have you seen this city? Everything here is illegal. Use the damn money," he insisted.

Feeling a knot form in her stomach, Y/n could only nod quickly in response, her mind reeling with the implications of the Joker's demands.

Finally, they reached the familiar entrance to Y/n's dormitory. With a sense of relief washing over her, she paused at the threshold, turning to face the Joker hesitantly.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Joker reached into his pockets, retrieving the assorted treats he had hastily stuffed inside. With a flourish, he presented them to Y/n, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The Joker offered her a cryptic smile in response, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "Anytime, Bunny," he replied, before disappearing into the shadows with an unsettling grace.

Left alone in the quiet of the night, Y/n let out a shaky breath, her heart still racing from the encounter. As she stepped into the safety of her dormitory, she couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be the last time she crossed paths with the infamous Joker.

-

Despite being accustomed to enduring long lectures in crowded rooms, they always seemed to take a toll on Y/n. Dragging herself back to her dorm, she could already feel the weight of exhaustion bearing down on her, her mind consumed by the anticipation of the nap she desperately needed.

As she unlocked the door and stepped inside her dorm room, her tired eyes widened in shock. There, sprawled across her bed in his unmistakable attire, was the Joker.

Her initial reaction was one of sheer terror, a scream escaping her lips before she could stop herself. Hastily, she clamped her hand over her mouth, her heart pounding erratically in her chest.

"Ah! You're back!" the Joker exclaimed, rising from her bed.

Y/n's mind raced, panic overtaking her ability to form coherent thoughts. She tried to back away, but found herself trapped against the closed door, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to make sense of the surreal situation unfolding before her.

"Why are you here?" Y/n ventured, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd pay you a visit," the Joker replied casually, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Y/n couldn't help but scoff inwardly at his flimsy excuse. It was clear to her that his sudden appearance had ulterior motives, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

"Don't you have crimes to commit?" she blurted out before she could stop herself, a wave of panic washing over her as soon as the words left her mouth.

To her surprise, the Joker's response was met with a sly grin rather than anger or offense. "Not for another few hours, Bunny," he quipped, his tone teasing.

Heat rushed to Y/n's cheeks at the familiar nickname, and she quickly averted her gaze, feeling a pang of embarrassment wash over her.

"Excuse me," she muttered softly, retreating to her bed and huddling against the headboard, her eyes fixed on the Joker as he settled himself at the opposite end of the bed.

As the Joker made himself comfortable, lounging against the wall with his legs crossed.

"Take your shoes off before you put your feet on my bed!" Y/n exclaimed, her voice betraying a hint of irritation.

With a grumble, the Joker complied, kicking his shoes off and allowing them to clatter to the ground. Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of unexpected confidence at her boldness, silently thanking whatever higher power had spared her from the Joker's wrath.

Y/n found herself at a loss, her dorm now occupied by someone as unsettling as the Joker. She sat back, her gaze lingering on him uncertainly. She couldn't help but notice the scars marring his face, though she made a conscious effort to avoid dwelling on them for too long.

The scars, etched deeply into his skin, held a certain fascination for her. Even though she only caught a glimpse of the left side of his face, the wide, prominent scar demanded her attention. Despite her curiosity about their origin, she knew better than to broach the subject with someone as unpredictable as the Joker.

Suddenly, the Joker's gaze met hers, prompting her to quickly avert her eyes in embarrassment. "What are you looking at?" his tone sharp.

Y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she mumbled an apology. "Sorry..." she murmured, her discomfort palpable in the air between them.

Y/n sensed movement from the corner of her eye as the Joker shifted onto his knees and crawled closer to her on the bed. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest as neared her.

"Is it the scars?" the Joker's voice cut through the tense silence, his tone deceptively innocent.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend you," Y/n stammered, her apology laced with genuine remorse.

The Joker furrowed his brows in response, clearly taken aback by her unexpected apology.

"Here... Why don't I give you a better look?" Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her face, his grip firm yet surprisingly gentle as he forced her to look at him.

Y/n squirmed in discomfort, but the Joker maintained his hold, his piercing gaze locking with hers. Despite her initial unease, her eyes were drawn not to his scars, but to his own intense gaze, filled with a complexity she couldn't quite decipher.

Y/n found herself captivated by the striking contrast of the Joker's eyes against the backdrop of his black face paint. They were a mesmerizing hazel, with hints of green around the edges, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

"What are you looking at, Bunny? I thought you wanted to see my scars," the Joker remarked, his voice surprisingly soft.

Y/n blinked, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected question. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his captivating eyes.

"You have really nice eyes," she blurted out, the words escaping before she could stop them.

The Joker's lips curved into a faint smirk at her unexpected compliment. He released her face, withdrawing his hand as he settled back on the bed, his gaze still fixed on hers.

"Why, thank you, Bunny. I do try to maintain some level of charm," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

Y/n shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare, unsure of what to make of the strange dynamics between them. Despite the Joker's unsettling presence, there was an inexplicable magnetism that seemed to draw her to him.

As the silence stretched between them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease creeping back in. She cleared her throat nervously, searching for something to break the tension.

"So... why are you really here?" she ventured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker's response hung in the air. "I just like you," he hummed, his tone casual yet laden with a mysterious undertone.

Y/n couldn't quite decipher the meaning behind his words. Was he being genuine, or was this just another one of his twisted games? And even if he did mean it, what exactly did he mean by it?

Her mind raced with questions, but she found herself at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond to the Joker's cryptic declaration. The Joker's grin widened as he observed Y/n's perplexed expression. He seemed to relish in her uncertainty, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Bunny. Just enjoy the company," he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. Despite the Joker's casual demeanor, there was an underlying sense of danger that lingered around him like a dark cloud.

She forced a weak smile, nodding in response, but her mind raced with a multitude of unanswered questions. As the silence enveloped them once again, Y/n couldn't help but wonder what other surprises the Joker had in store for her.

Y/n watched with curiosity as the Joker sauntered over to her shelf, his eyes scanning the various items displayed there.

"What do we have here..." His voice held a mischievous edge as he rubbed his hands together, clearly intrigued by the contents.

His gaze landed on the CD player, and a wicked grin spread across his face. "What does this little bunny like to listen to?" he mused aloud, reaching out to press the play button.

The familiar strains of music filled the room as the CD player came to life. Y/n recognized the song instantly, it was one she had been listening to earlier that day. The chorus of "Last Cup of Sorrow" by Faith No More filled the air

As the music filled the room, the Joker's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and madness. Without warning, he extended his hand towards Y/n, a silent invitation for her to join him.

"Come on, Bunny, don't be shy," he urged, his voice laced with excitement.

Y/n hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest as she weighed her options. But before she could respond, the Joker was already closing the distance between them, his hand gripping hers firmly as he pulled her towards him.

"Let's have some fun, shall we?" he said, his grip unyielding as he began to sway to the rhythm of the music.

Caught off guard, Y/n stumbled slightly, her movements awkward and hesitant. But Joker's relentless energy was infectious, and soon she found herself being swept up in the ood dance.

As they twirled and spun around the room, Y/n couldn't help but feel a strange sense of exhilaration mingled with fear. The Joker's laughter filled the air, echoing off the walls as they danced, a twisted symphony of madness and mayhem. And amidst the chaos, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that she was being drawn deeper into the Joker's twisted world with each step they took.

"Bunny having fun, hmm?" Joker teased, his eyes alight with amusement as he watched Y/n begin to smile.

The contrast between this dance and their first encounter in the bank was stark. There were no hostages, no looming threat of violence, just the two of them, alone in her room, moving to the rhythm of her music.

"Such a pretty little thing when you smile," Joker remarked suddenly, his words sending a warm flush creeping up Y/n's cheeks.

Caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, Y/n felt a flutter of emotions swirling within her. Despite the chaos and danger that seemed to follow the Joker wherever he went, there was something strangely captivating about him in this moment, something that made her pulse quicken and her heart race.

As the song reached its climax, Joker twirled Y/n one final time, their movements becoming more frenzied and erratic with each passing moment. The room seemed to spin around them, the music echoing in their ears as they danced in a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty.

With a dramatic end, Joker dipped Y/n backwards, her heart racing as she gazed up at him, their eyes locking in a moment of intense connection. For a fleeting instant, it felt as though time stood still, as though they were the only two people in the world.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the dance came to an abrupt end. Joker released his grip on Y/n, letting her fall. She screamed as the sudden pull of gravity yanked her downward, the impact jarring as she hit the floor. Pain shot through her body, but it was nothing compared to the surge of anger that flooded her veins as she looked up at the Joker.

"What the fuck, Joker?!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with fury and betrayal.

But the Joker simply grinned down at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief and amusement. "Oops, dopy me," he quipped, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant.

Y/n could do nothing but glare.

"Well, that was fun," he remarked casually, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "But I've got places to be, Bunny. I’ll be seeing you."

Y/n's heart sank as she watched Joker turn away from her, a pang of disappointment mingling with the lingering thrill of their dance. She wanted to say something, to protest or something, but she found herself speechless, unable to form the words.

With a final smirk over his shoulder, Joker disappeared out the door, leaving Y/n alone in the silence of her room. As she sat there, still thinking about him. The way he moved with her, it was unlike anything she had experienced before. In his arms, she didn't feel the familiar grip of fear tightening around her chest, instead, there was a sense of exhilaration, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Dancing with him was like stepping into another world, one where she could forget about her worries and simply be in the moment.

As they moved together in perfect synchronization, she couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness wash over her. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders, replaced by a buoyant feeling of joy and excitement. In that moment, there was only the music, the movement, and the electrifying connection between them.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to let go, to revel in the intoxicating thrill of the dance. And as they twirled and spun across the room, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was something special about the Joker after all.

-

It had been a few days since Joker had last visited her dorm room, and the memory of their dance lingered in Y/n's mind. She found herself constantly thinking about him and the strange encounters they had shared. As she lay in bed, contemplating the events of the past few days, she couldn't shake the feeling that fluttered in her stomach.

Late into the night, as the clock approached 11 PM, Y/n was just about to drift off to sleep when she heard movement outside her door. She let out a resigned sigh, assuming it was just some noisy neighbors from down the hall. However, her heart skipped a beat when her door swung open, revealing an unexpected visitor.

The creak of the door opening wide echoed through her room. She froze in her bed, the darkness of the room swallowing her up as she strained to see who had entered. Her mind raced with possibilities, but deep down, she knew exactly who it was.

The figure stepped into the room, the faint light from the hallway casting eerie shadows across the floor. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched the silhouette move closer, her pulse quickening with each step. She couldn't make out his face in the dim light, but she didn't need to. She knew it was him.

"Miss me, Bunny?" his voice, dripping with mischief, filled the room, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n flicked on her bedside lamp as Joker sauntered into the room, shutting the door behind him. "What the hell?" Y/n groaned, rubbing her eyes wearily.

Joker began rifling through her drawers, pulling out clothes and inspecting them before carelessly tossing them onto the floor. Y/n shot up from her bed and approached him, annoyance evident in her voice. 

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, gesturing to the mess he was creating.

"Don't fret, Doll. Just for a nice little outfit for you," Joker replied casually, tossing another item aside with a nonchalant grin.

"Why?" Y/n questioned, her confusion evident.

"Because, Doll, you and I are hitting the town," Joker declared, holding up a shirt for inspection before tossing it onto Y/n's bed and moving on to her bottoms.

"But I have classes tomorrow, Joker," Y/n protested.

"Uh huh," Joker murmured dismissively, paying her complaint no mind as he continued his search.

Y/n rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well, maybe if you actually went to university, you'd understand," she retorted, taking a jab at his unconventional career choice.

"I'm too old for uni, Bunny," Joker replied with a smirk.

"You're never too old to learn," Y/n shot back.

"Fucking nerd," Joker muttered under his breath, eliciting an eye roll from Y/n.

"What are you, 12? Get a better insult," Y/n retorted. "And I hope you don’t really expect me to go out with you."

"I'm taking you one way or another," Joker stated firmly.

Y/n wanted to stay mad, but her heart was pounding with excitement. The fact that Joker wanted to hang out with her felt monumental. Joker eventually found a skirt to pair with her shirt and tossed it onto the bed.

"Get changed," Joker commanded, already moving to fetch her some shoes.

"Don't tell me what to do," Y/n muttered under her breath.

Joker turned to give her an intimidating stare. Y/n stood up, reluctantly agreeing, "Fine, I’ll change, just get out while I do."

"You can change right here, Doll, I won’t peek," Joker assured her, smirking.

"I'm inclined not to believe you," Y/n replied.

Knowing he wasn't going to leave, she sighed and grabbed a bra to put on first.

"Oh, so I'm getting the full show?" Joker teased, making Y/n blush furiously.

"Stop being a weirdo," Y/n snapped, pulling her arms through her sleeves to put her bra on underneath her shirt.

Joker dramatically pouted while inspecting her shoes. Y/n managed to get the bra on and glanced at the clothes he had chosen. It was a nice see-through shirt with patterns on it and a black skirt, she liked his style.

She removed her top and started putting on the shirt, only to hear Joker wolf whistle. Her face couldn’t have been hotter at that moment.

"Stop looking!" Y/n yelled, quickly buttoning up the shirt.

She then put on the skirt with her pajama bottoms still on, making sure Joker didn't catch any more glimpses of her than she was comfortable with. Joker sauntered over to where Y/n sat, still in awe of his audacity. As she sat on the bed, shedding her pajama bottoms discreetly beneath her skirt, 

"Nice legs," he remarked, a compliment she wasn't accustomed to receiving.

Joker's casual comment caught her off guard. "Um, thank you?" Y/n responded, unsure how to react.

With the shoes in hand, Joker approached Y/n once more. Just as she reached out to take them, he surprised her by crouching down before her, lifting her foot and resting it gently on his knee. It felt surreal, her mind momentarily going blank.

With deft movements, Joker slipped the shoes onto her feet one by one, securing the straps around her ankles. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the sensation of his leather gloves against her bare skin sending tingles down her spine.

Joker stood up, his hands clapping together sharply, breaking Y/n out of her trance. "Ready, Bunny?" he asked with a grin.

Y/n simply nodded in response. Before she could fully process what was happening, Joker grabbed her hand and pulled her up, leading the way to the door.

But Y/n halted them abruptly. "Wait, we can't just walk out there! Anyone could see you!" she protested.

Joker arched an eyebrow at her. "How do you think I got in, Doll?" he retorted, not waiting for her response as he dragged her out of the dorms.

As they walked, Y/n couldn't shake the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her eyes remained fixated on their intertwined hands, her wrist held firmly in Joker's grip. It was an oddly exhilarating sensation, one that left her feeling both thrilled and apprehensive.

The cold air and the bustling sounds of the city snapped Y/n back to reality. "Joker, wait..." she began nervously, catching his attention.

Joker turned to her, a hint of impatience in his tone. "What now?" he growled.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't want to go out," Y/n admitted, her voice trembling.

Joker noticed the change in her demeanor and softened slightly. "What's wrong, Bunny?" he asked, moving closer to her.

Y/n's hands shook visibly as she spoke. "I don't do going out. I don't do crowds. I don't do being outside my room," she confessed, avoiding Joker's gaze.

Leaning in, Joker lowered himself to her eye level. "Listen, Bunny. I'll keep you safe tonight. I'll make sure you're all comfy, and nobody will bother you. It'll just be us and a couple of the guys keeping watch. You don't have to worry about a thing. How does that sound?" he whispered reassuringly.

Y/n found herself gazing into Joker's eyes, their warmth contrasting with the hardness of his exterior. She couldn't shake the urge to see his face without the paint, though she knew it was a dangerous curiosity. Despite knowing who he was and what he did, she inexplicably trusted him.

Nodding slowly, she watched as a toothy grin spread across Joker's face. He took her hand once more, leading her toward a waiting van.

"Oh, this doesn't look dodgy at all," Y/n quipped as they approached.

Joker opened the back door for her to enter first. With a polite smile, she stepped inside, Joker following and closing the door behind them. Taking a seat, Y/n looked around the interior.

"Where's the seatbelt?" she asked.

"No seatbelts here, Doll," Joker replied casually.

"Well, you better hope I don't go flying off this seat, then," Y/n scoffed.

"If you feel unsafe, you can always hold onto me, Bunny," Joker suggested, his smirk making Y/n blush once more. "And besides... Rocco's a great driver, isn't that right?" he called to the front of the van.

"Uhhh... yeah, I'd think so, boss," came the hesitant reply from the driver's seat.

Y/n's attention was drawn to the presence of two men seated in the front of the van. They seemed to be keeping to themselves, occasionally exchanging glances in the rearview mirror but otherwise remaining focused on the road ahead as they pulled out of the parking space. Their silence added to the tense atmosphere inside the vehicle, amplifying Y/n's apprehension about the night ahead.

As the van rumbled through the dimly lit streets of Gotham, Joker leaned closer to Y/n, his breath tickling her ear. 

"You nervous, Bunny?" he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n swallowed nervously, her eyes darting to the men in the front seats before returning to Joker's intense gaze. "A little," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Don't worry, Doll. I'll make sure you have a night to remember," he promised, his tone dripping with mischief.

As the van continued its journey through the city's streets, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides. She glanced at Joker, trying to decipher his intentions from the mischievous glint in his eyes, but his expression remained inscrutable.

With each passing minute, Y/n's apprehension grew, but she knew it was too late to turn back now. She was along for the ride, wherever it might lead. She could only hope that Joker's promise of keeping her safe would hold true amidst the uncertainty of the night ahead.

"Now, Doll.. Where we’re going, I’m gonna need to bag you," Joker said, as he casually held up a burlap bag. Y/n felt a surge of anxiety at the sight.

"Wait, what's happening?" Y/n asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Joker raised a gloved hand in a calming gesture. "Relax, Bunny. I told you I'd keep you safe," he reassured her.

Despite her apprehension, Y/n found herself complying as Joker placed the bag over her head, enveloping her in darkness. She couldn't shake the feeling of fear that gripped her tightly as she waited in the unknown.

In the darkness beneath the bag, Y/n felt Joker's firm grip on her wrist as he guided her out of the van. With the van door opening, she was enveloped in a swirl of uncertainty. She hadn't dared to glance out of the tinted windows during the drive, leaving her completely at Joker's mercy.

As they walked, Y/n could feel the ground beneath her shift from rough pavement to a smoother surface, indicating they were inside a building. The silence around her was deafening, leaving her unable to decipher their location. Joker's grip on her wrist remained tight, guiding her with purpose through the mysterious space.

Just as Y/n's mind raced to make sense of the situation, she heard footsteps approaching them. "Your table is ready, sir," a quivering voice spoke, sending shivers down her spine. 

Joker's grip tightened on her wrist as he pulled her along, and she strained to understand the significance of the words. Soon, they approached a second door, which opened before them. As they stepped through, the door closed behind them, enveloping them in an eerie silence that amplified Y/n's anxiety.

As they stepped into the room, the unmistakable sound of Faith No More filled the air, instantly recognizable to Y/n's ears.

As the bag was lifted from her head, Y/n blinked in the sudden light, her eyes adjusting to the scene before her. Before her stood Joker, a mischievous grin on his face as he stepped back to reveal a table set with napkins, candles, and cutlery.

"Ta-da!" Joker announced, spreading his arms with theatrical flair.

In the room, aside from a few strategically placed plants and the central table, there was no one and nothing else present. 

"W-what's going on?" Y/n questioned, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Joker rolled his eyes before pulling out a chair for her. She settled into the seat as he took his own across the table.

He grabbed one of the menu set in the middle of the table. "Pick anything you like, Doll," Joker chimed in, his eyes scanning the list of options.

Y/n took her own menu, her gaze drifting over the choices as she contemplated her selection.

Y/n glanced around the dimly lit room, her curiosity piqued by the ambiance Joker had created. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, adding to the mysterious atmosphere.

"What's the occasion?" Y/n asked, unable to suppress her curiosity any longer.

Joker chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just wanted to take the little Bunny out," he replied, flashing her a grin.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. Despite her reservations, there was something undeniably intriguing about this impromptu dinner with the Joker.

“What? Is this a date or something?” Y/n's question hung in the air, laced with a nervous chuckle. She couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension about the situation.

Joker's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "If you want it to be, Doll," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

Y/n felt a rush of conflicting emotions. The idea of a date with the Joker was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Y/n felt a wave of shyness wash over her, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she fidgeted with the menu in her hands. Every glance at Joker sent a flurry of butterflies fluttering in her stomach, making her feel more flustered with each passing moment. She struggled to maintain eye contact, her heart racing as she tried to compose herself in his presence.

"So! What's it gonna be, Doll?" Joker asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on hers, waiting for her to tell him her order.

Y/n hesitated, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. She glanced down at the menu, trying to focus on the options in front of her. Finally, she made her choice and looked up at Joker with a tentative smile.

"I'll have the... um, the chicken alfredo, please," she said, her voice a bit softer than usual.

Joker stood up from his seat with a smirk and walked over to the door, opening it just a crack. He exchanged a few hushed words with one of his men outside before closing the door again, returning to Y/n sitting at the table.

As Joker returned to the table, the realization dawned upon her, Y/n understood the purpose behind the burlap bag and the secrecy. Joker was safeguarding her identity, shielding her from any potential trouble that could arise if her association with him became known. She appreciated his gesture, despite the unconventional means.

"So, uh, thanks for this... dinner," Y/n said, feeling a bit awkward but genuinely appreciative of the gesture.

Joker flashed a grin, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Anything for my favorite Bunny," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air.

Y/n couldn't help but smile at his reply. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around the enigmatic nature of their relationship, but for now, she decided to enjoy the moment and the unexpected dinner date with the notorious Joker.

As the evening progressed, Y/n found herself surprisingly at ease in Joker's company. His charismatic demeanor and witty banter kept her entertained throughout the meal, and she couldn't deny the allure of his unpredictable charm.

Between bites of food and sips of wine, they engaged in lighthearted conversation, sharing stories and exchanging laughs. Despite the peculiar circumstances of their encounter, Y/n couldn't deny that she was enjoying herself, relishing the novelty of the experience.

As the night wore on, the initial tension that had enveloped Y/n began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of camaraderie with the man sitting across from her. It was a strange sensation, considering who he was, but she couldn't deny the genuine connection that seemed to be forming between them.

Eventually, the meal came to an end. Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, tossing them onto the table without a second thought.

"Let's get out of here, Bunny," he said, rising from his seat and offering his hand to Y/n.

She hesitated for a moment before putting on the burlap bag again and placing her hand in his, allowing him to lead her out of the restaurant and into the night once again.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration tinged with apprehension. She was stepping into the unknown, guided by a man whose intentions remained shrouded in mystery.

Joker led her back to the van and took off the bag. Without a word, he gestured for Y/n to climb in, and she obliged, settling into the seat beside him. The van rumbled to life, and they began their journey through the city once more.

As they drove, Y/n's mind raced with questions, but she held her tongue, unsure of how much she dared to ask. Instead, she gazed out the window, watching the lights of Gotham blur past as they navigated the labyrinthine streets.

Eventually, they arrived back at Y/n's dorm, and Joker brought the van to a stop. He turned to her, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

"Well, Bunny, it's been a pleasure," he said, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

Y/n nodded, a mixture of relief and reluctance swirling within her. She knew she should be wary of him, but there was something undeniably compelling about the enigmatic man beside her.

"You're not going to walk me back?" Y/n said, surprising herself with her sudden burst of confidence.

Joker's smirk widened as he stepped out of the van. "Couldn't say no to you," he replied casually.

Together, they walked in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Y/n stole glances at Joker, trying to decipher the enigmatic expression on his face. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

When they reached her dorm room, Joker stopped and turned to face her. "Well, here we are," he said, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

Y/n nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure what to say, but she found herself reluctant to part ways with him.

"Thanks for... everything," she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker flashed her a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anytime, Bunny," he replied before turning on his heel.

As Joker turned back to leave, Y/n's heart raced with a sudden impulse. "Wait!" she called out, her voice echoing in the quiet night.

Surprised, Joker turned back just as Y/n rushed up to him, her hand reaching for his. Without a second thought, she pulled him close and pressed her lips against his, feeling the cool touch of his greasy face paint against her skin. Despite the unconventional sensation, she relished the moment, savoring the feel of his scars beneath her touch.

Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden kiss, Joker froze for a moment before melting into it, his surprise giving way to something more akin to amusement. As they parted, he flashed her a grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, well, Bunny," he chuckled. "Seems like you've got some surprises up your sleeve too."

Y/n felt a rush of warmth at his words, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. But before she could respond, Joker's expression shifted, his gaze darting around as if sensing something amiss.

With shaky steps, she turned and hurried back towards her dorm, her heart still pounding in her chest. Each step felt heavier than the last, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and excitement.

As she reached her door, she fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling with nervous energy. Finally unlocking the door, she practically stumbled into her room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Leaning against the door, Y/n let out a shaky breath, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and exhilaration. She couldn't believe what had just happened, the kiss still lingering on her lips like a bittersweet memory.

Feeling a rush of emotions, she sank down onto her bed, burying her face in her hands. It was all so overwhelming. As the reality of her actions sunk in, Y/n's mind raced with a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. She had just kissed the Joker, arguably one of the most dangerous and unpredictable individuals in Gotham City. It was a reckless move, one that could have dire consequences.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she replayed the moment in her mind, the feel of his lips against hers, the roughness of his scars. It was surreal, almost like a dream, and yet, it had happened.

But along with the rush of adrenaline came a wave of uncertainty and fear. What would happen now? Would the Joker seek her out again? And if he did, what would he want from her?

Y/n shook her head, trying to push away the barrage of questions crowding her mind. For now, all she could do was wait and see, her heart still racing from the daring act she had just committed.

-

Y/n knew it was a terrible idea to go out the night before. She had endured three consecutive two-hour lectures, running on a mere five hours of sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her as she trudged back to her dorm, fantasizing about the blissful nap awaiting her.

Y/n's exhaustion seemed to fade away as she caught wind of the conversation in the common room. Curiosity piqued, she quickened her pace, eager to hear more about the news report.

"Holy shit, turn up the TV," one of her fellow students exclaimed.

"Infamous criminal, Joker, was seen last night with an unknown woman, entering a restaurant," the news report blared from the television.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she absorbed the information. Anxiety gnawed at her as she contemplated the implications of being linked to such a notorious figure. Standing in the doorway, Y/n listened intently to the news report echoing from the common room.

The news report continued, "The sighting has sparked widespread speculation about the identity of the mysterious woman seen with the notorious criminal. Eyewitnesses claim the woman appeared to be in her early twenties, possibly younger, but her face was obscured by a bag as they entered the restaurant. Authorities are urging anyone with information about this incident to come forward."

Y/n's heart raced as she realized the gravity of the situation. She had been seen with the Joker, and now her anonymity was at risk. She knew she had to be more cautious than ever before.

The news report continued with a solemn tone, "In a chilling turn of events, just hours after the sighting, reports flooded in of a violent attack attack against several political figures late last night, with witnesses describing the perpetrator as none other than the Joker himself. It was described as a chaotic scenes as the Joker and his accomplices unleashed mayhem in the heart of the city, targeting high-profile individuals attending a gala event."

Y/n's stomach dropped as she listened to the horrifying news. She couldn't believe she had been with him just hours before, completely unaware of his plans. Fear and guilt gripped her as she realized the danger she had unwittingly placed herself in by associating with the Joker.

Y/n felt a wave of nausea wash over her as the reality sank in. The man she had shared a meal and a moment with had gone on to commit atrocious acts of violence. The guilt weighed heavy on her conscience as she rushed to her room, seeking solace in solitude. Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened by the knowledge of her unwitting association with a criminal of such magnitude. She couldn't shake off the feeling of disgust and betrayal, retreating into her room to grapple with her tumultuous emotions alone.

Y/n was overwhelmed by a mix of regret and disbelief. How could she have been so reckless as to kiss someone without truly knowing who they were? She cursed herself for her naivety and ignorance, realizing that she had allowed herself to be drawn into the orbit of a dangerous individual. From that moment on, she vowed to steer clear of any further association with him, determined to distance herself from the enigmatic figure who had deceived her so thoroughly.

-

A few days passed, and Y/n tried her best to put the incident behind her. However, her resolve was put to the test when, one evening, there was a knock on her dorm room door. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she approached cautiously, heart racing as she wondered who could be on the other side. Opening the door tentatively, she was met with the unmistakable figure of the Joker, standing there with his characteristic grin.

"Happy to see me, Bunny?" The Joker's voice was laced with amusement as he stood casually in the doorway, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of the Joker standing at her doorstep. She hesitated, unsure of how to react, but before she could say anything, he pushed his way into her dorm room with that ever-present smirk on his face.

"I got you a little something," Joker announced, producing a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. The contrast between the bright, colorful blooms and his dark, enigmatic presence sent a shiver down Y/n's spine.

"J-Joker... You shouldn't be here," Y/n stammered, her voice trembling as he pushed the bouquet of flowers into her hands.

The Joker merely chuckled, unfazed by her unease. "There's a lot of things I shouldn't do, Doll. But here I am," he retorted, ignoring her plea.

"You can’t be here… Please, just go," Y/n pleaded again, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

Joker's expression softened slightly as he noticed the tears welling up in Y/n's eyes. He took a step closer, but she instinctively backed away, her fear palpable.

"Bunny, what's wrong?" Joker's voice was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor.

"I just... need some time alone," Y/n replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her emotions too overwhelming to articulate.

Joker hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning Y/n's face as if searching for answers. Finally, he nodded slowly, acknowledging her request.

"Alright, Bunny. I'll leave you be," Joker said softly, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

Y/n watched as Joker turned to leave, his presence disappearing from her dorm room. Alone once again, she sank onto her bed, clutching the bouquet of flowers tightly against her chest as tears began to fall freely.

She grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between the fear of what Joker might do if he discovered the truth and the guilt of rejecting his gesture of kindness. The bouquet of flowers lay on her bed, a poignant reminder of the tangled mess she found herself in. Y/n felt trapped, uncertain of how to handle the situation she was in.

-

As Y/n made her way back to her dorm, an unease settled over her. Another week had passed since Joker visited her. Every shadow seemed to harbor a lurking threat, and she quickened her pace, eager to reach the safety of her room. However, her apprehension only intensified when she was stopped by someone from her floor.

"Got yourself a boyfriend or something, huh?" the girl asked with a knowing smirk.

Y/n's confusion deepened. “Uhh.. No," she replied cautiously.

The girl nodded toward Y/n's dorm room. "Guess you've got a secret admirer then," she said before walking away.

Heart pounding, Y/n approached her door and froze at the sight before her. Another bouquet of flowers, even larger than before, greeted her, accompanied by a playing card resting beside it. As she reached for the card, her fingers trembled, and she turned it over to reveal the unmistakable image of a joker.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes widening in disbelief. The sight that greeted her inside was both stunning and terrifying. Flowers, dozens of them, filled her room, arranged in an array of colors and shapes.

Y/n stumbled forward, dropping the bouquet she held in her trembling hands. As she surveyed the room, her heart hammered against her chest. Four bouquets adorned her desk, their vibrant hues contrasting sharply with the pale surface. Another three lay scattered across her bed, their delicate petals casting shadows in the dim light. And yet more flowers, at least twenty, were strewn haphazardly throughout the room, their sweet fragrance mingling in the air.

Fear clenched at her insides as she realized the implications of this gesture. Y/n stood there, stunned by the sheer extravagance of the display. Never before had anyone shown her such generosity or tenderness, and coming from someone like the Joker, it only meant trouble.

Given the fact that this man killed for a living and enjoyed it, receiving such affectionate gifts from him carried a weighty significance. It hinted at a depth of feeling and a seriousness in his affection that Y/n found both bewildering and unsettling.

Inspecting her desk, Y/n noticed several scattered playing cards, one of which bore writing along the face of it. She picked it up and read the message: ‘Sorry I couldn't give these in person, Bunny. Hope you're feeling better.’ Beneath the message, there was a small doodle of a bunny.

The message offered little comfort, especially considering the likelihood that Joker had likely gone on to commit some heinous act afterward, perhaps even something as dreadful as blowing up a school bus.

Y/n found herself utterly lost, grappling with a sense of powerlessness. Yet, she knew she couldn't afford to succumb to fear any longer. Having the Joker show up uninvited was no longer an option. The next time she saw him, Y/n knew she had to put a stop to this.

-

Despite the danger of navigating Gotham's streets at night, Y/n had grown accustomed to it. It was a routine she had mastered, whether it was grabbing late-night essentials from the convenience store or simply wandering the dimly lit alleys. But tonight was different, tonight, she felt the presence of danger looming around every corner.

As she hurried along the deserted streets, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Every shadow seemed to conceal a hidden threat, every flicker of movement sent a jolt of apprehension through her veins. But deep down, she knew that somehow, some way, her path would intersect with the Joker's once again.

Tonight was the night in which Y/n would confront Joker and declare what ever was happening between the two of them would not happen again.

Y/n's mind was occupied as she walked along the sidewalk, her thoughts consumed by the upcoming confrontation with the Joker. Suddenly, a group of men passed by, one of them coming to an abrupt halt.

"Hey... I know this chick," he exclaimed, pointing directly at Y/n.

Startled, Y/n turned to face them. "Excuse me?" she replied, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"Yeah, you're the one who put us in the shits with the Joker," another man chimed in, his tone accusatory.

Recognition dawned on Y/n as she realized who these men were. Y/n's horror deepened as she recognized the men who had attempted to mug her when the Joker intervened in that dark alley. The memories flooded back, vivid and unsettling.

As the men closed in on her, memories of that terrifying encounter surged through Y/n's mind. She instinctively stepped back, trying to distance herself from the group, but they closed in, their faces contorted with malice.

"Should've kept your mouth shut back then, girlie," one of them snarled, shoving her roughly.

Y/n stumbled backward, her heart racing with fear. She knew she was in trouble, trapped in this menacing situation with no one to help her.

“B-but… I didn’t s-say anything. It wasn’t my fault..” Y/n’s eyes welled with tears.

As the men continued to harass her, Y/n's mind raced, searching desperately for a way out. She knew she couldn't take them on physically, but she had to find a way to escape. With each push and taunt, her fear turned to determination.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Ah, the old, familiar places.." 

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the voice. It was him. The Joker. 

As soon as the Joker's voice rang out, the men froze in terror, their faces paling. Without hesitation, they turned to flee just as they did last time, but before they could take a step, two of Joker's henchmen emerged from the shadows and grabbed them, preventing their escape. The men struggled against the firm grip of Joker's men. 

"Bunny, Henshaw over here will escort you back to the van. I've got some unfinished business to attend to," Joker declared, his gaze fixed on the trembling men.

Y/n felt a mix of relief and fear as one of Joker's men, presumably Henshaw, firmly grasped her shoulder and led her away from the scene. She cast a nervous glance back at Joker, unsure of what was about to unfold. Y/n watched as Joker took something from his coat, likely a knife, and moved towards the first man.

"I suggest you look away," Henshaw advised, gently nudging her towards the van.

Feeling a knot form in her stomach, Y/n obeyed, knowing it was wise to heed his warning as the piercing screams pierced the air behind her.

Sitting in the back of the van, Y/n's breaths came in heavy, her hands trembling as the screams echoed outside. She pressed her hands against her ears, trying to block out the horrifying sounds. In the front seat, Henshaw shifted uncomfortably, glancing back at her.

"Uhh... You want me to put on the radio?" Henshaw offered.

Y/n nodded, grateful for any distraction. Henshaw fiddled with the radio, but even the music couldn't drown out the haunting echoes of agony. Y/n felt utterly helpless, unsure of what to do in such a harrowing situation.

Y/n's heart pounded with conflicting emotions. On one hand, she had achieved her goal of finding Joker, but the situation had spiraled out of control. He was out there, committing acts of violence in her name. While she couldn't deny that those men probably deserved it, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease and guilt.

Tonight was supposed to be about confronting Joker and ending whatever twisted connection they had, but now he was killing people for her. The thought of facing Joker now filled her with dread. Would he turn his rage on her next and kill her, or would he simply make her life a living hell? Y/n had no answers, only fear and uncertainty about what lay ahead.

As Y/n grappled with her conflicting emotions, another wave of realization hit her. Despite the chaos and violence that seemed to follow him wherever he went, Joker had shown her a side of himself that she had never experienced before with anyone else. His gestures of affection had left a lasting impression on her, stirring feelings she had never known.

She couldn't deny the way her heart raced in his presence, or the warmth that spread through her when he treated her with tenderness. Joker made her feel special in a way that no one else ever had, and that made her dilemma even more agonizing.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n was jolted back to reality when the van door was pulled open, revealing Joker standing there. Behind him lay the aftermath of his violent confrontation, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked within him. As he closed the door, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over her, uncertain of what would come next.

As Joker settled into the seat across from her, the tension in the van seemed to thicken. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with a multitude of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Joker's gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was silence between them. Y/n couldn't bring herself to break the silence, unsure of what to say or how to address the situation unfolding before her.

Finally, Joker spoke, his voice low and measured. "You okay, Bunny?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle given the circumstances.

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry. "I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker's expression softened slightly, and he reached out to gently squeeze her hand. "You don't have to be scared, Doll," he said reassuringly. "I'll always keep you safe."

Despite his words, Y/n couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at her. She knew that being involved with Joker meant being thrust into a world of danger and chaos, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face the consequences.

But as she looked into Joker's eyes, she couldn't deny the strange pull she felt toward him, the inexplicable connection that seemed to draw her closer to him with each passing moment. Whether it was the thrill of danger or something deeper, Y/n couldn't say for certain.

“You have something to say..I can tell,” Joker's voice was rough and impatient, cutting through the tense silence that hung between them.

“You don't know me that well,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to muster up the courage to confront him.

Joker raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he regarded her. She could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on her, making her feel small and vulnerable.

“Listen, Bunny. I ain't known for my patience, so you better start tal—” Joker's words were abruptly cut off by Y/n's confession.

“I don't want you to visit me anymore,” she blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to meet his gaze.

The air in the van seemed to grow heavy with tension as Joker's expression shifted, a dangerous glint entering his eyes. Despite her fear, Y/n stood her ground, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaited his response.

“What did you say, Bunny?” Joker's voice was deceptively light, but the intensity behind his words sent a shiver down her spine.

“I-I don't think you should visit me anymore,” Y/n stammered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Think or want, Doll. Make up your mind,” Joker's tone was mocking, his words laced with an underlying threat that sent a chill down her spine.

As the two men in the front of the van stepped out, leaving them alone, Y/n felt a sense of dread wash over her. She knew she had to stand her ground, to assert her boundaries, no matter the consequences.

“This can't happen anymore,” she stated firmly, her voice quivering with emotion.

“This, what is this,” Joker's question hung in the air, his eyes boring into hers as if searching for the truth hidden within her words.

“I don't know! I don't know what this is, but whatever it is can't happen anymore!” Y/n finally snapped, her frustration and fear bubbling to the surface as she confronted the enigmatic man before her.

Joker's gaze bore into Y/n, his eyes flickering with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. She could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on her, his very aura demanding attention and compliance. Joker's demeanor shifted, his previously calm facade cracking as he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You're telling me to stay away?" he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

For a moment, there was a tense silence between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the city outside the van. Y/n's heart hammered in her chest, her nerves on edge as she awaited Joker's response. 

"I... I can't do this anymore," Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's too much. I can't."

“You don't get to decide that, Bunny," he said, his words laced with a hint of menace.

Y/n recoiled slightly, her fear mounting as she realized the gravity of her words. She had never seen Joker like this before, and the sight sent a chill down her spine.

Joker's expression hardened, his features twisting into a mask of barely contained fury. "You think you can just walk away from me?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom.

"I-I can't do this anymore, Joker, please!" she stammered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Joker's lips curled into a predatory smirk, sending a chill down Y/n's spine. "You knew what you were getting into when you kissed me, Doll," he said, his tone dripping with dark amusement. "You can't just walk away now."

Y/n's eyes brimmed with tears, her voice trembling with emotion. "Y-you don't understand, Joker... I'm scared!"

"Of what, Bunny? I ain't touched you," Joker retorted, his tone flippant as he dismissed her fear.

"B-but what if you do? You just killed a group of men outside! How am I any different?" Y/n cried out, her voice breaking as she struggled to contain her fear. "For fuck's sake! You're a criminal, being near you is illegal!"

"Bunny, you need to listen to me right now," Joker said, dropping to his knees before her, gently cradling her face in his hands.

"I would never touch a hair on your body that you didn’t want me to," Joker assured her, his gaze unwavering. "And the law? Pft! Forget about it... This city was fucked before I came along. Now, I'm having a play."

Y/n's lip quivered as she absorbed his words.

"And I'll make sure they never lay a finger on you... Imma keep my little Bunny safe," Joker murmured, his voice surprisingly tender.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Y/n burst into tears, collapsing into his chest. Joker enveloped her in his arms, offering comfort. In that moment, she surrendered to her feelings. Despite her efforts to deny it, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards Joker. She had never experienced such emotions before, and she was unwilling to let go of them now.

As Y/n's tears subsided, she felt Joker's grip loosen. He pulled away slightly, cupping her face in his hands and wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

"You're safe with me, Bunny," Joker reassured her, his gaze soft yet intense.

Y/n nodded, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty wash over her. She knew she was diving into dangerous waters by allowing herself to be drawn to Joker, but at that moment, she couldn't deny the undeniable connection between them.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Joker planted a sloppy kiss on her forehead, his touch surprisingly tender as he rubbed her arms with his gloved hands. Y/n felt a rush of warmth and comfort flood her senses, despite the chaos surrounding them.

"Let's get you home, Bunny," Joker said softly, his voice carrying a sense of reassurance that eased her anxieties.

She realized that whatever unfolded between them would likely be filled with danger and uncertainty. Yet, in that moment, she found herself surprisingly unfazed by the prospect. The way he made her feel was unlike anything she had experienced before, and for her, that was enough.

For better or for worse, she had chosen to embrace the chaos, to walk alongside the Joker, wherever their twisted journey might lead them.

-

A/N: So yeah, this story became way more cuter than I anticipated and hoped for..oops. I originally wanted this to be more dark and shit with more of the stalker-y kinda shit but I kinda got distracted..by bad So if yous want some more Joker but more unhinged and less cute shit, feel free to request and I may or may not be in the middle of writing a Joker fic that is a bit Dead Dove 👀 (I say may because I have no idea when I will finish writing it) Also, I was listening to Faith No More while writing this, so that's why I added them here. Slay But thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. 💚

#fanfic #dc joker #health ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #the joker #heath ledger #heath ledger joker #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #batman #batman joker #joker x reader #reader insert #reader with anxiety #ooc joker #ooc

[warriordragonart]

My interpretation of the Dancer while she was still human. Her hair is inspired by a mixture of Renaissance Italian and ballroom hairstyles and my headcanon for her name is Gwynneth!

#dark souls 3 #dark souls #dark souls 3 fanart #dancer of the boreal valley #been working on a DS3 fanfic recently #where the protagonist is from Irithyll #so I have exhaustively headcanoned EVERY character from there #the Outrider knight in the Grand Archives has a BACKSTORY now #and a DESIGN #and a NAME #(It’s Tirallen) #hence the work on the Dancer

[nocturnest]

You're the Cream in My Coffee

author's note: i love this fear-crazy man as much as i love coffee! 🥹 i can't imagine him drinking straight-up black coffee despite his personality because i imagine that he so secretly has a slight sweet tooth but in a refined crane kind of way - like with sweet cold foam or milk. anyway, please enjoy you guys!

It was a quiet morning at Arkham. As you made your way to your office, you couldn't help but glance with curiosity down the hall towards Dr. Jonathan Crane's door. The reserved but brilliant fellow psychologist was often the first one in the building, working tirelessly on his research and case files.

You had always admired Jonathan's sharp wit and keen intellect. Most of your colleagues steered clear of him as they found him distant and aloof. Nevertheless, he had always shown you polite courtesy. There was something about his dry sense of humor and the way his sharp blue eyes would crinkle slightly when he was amused that had captured your attention.

On this particular morning, you had woken up exceptionally early to lend a visit to your favorite coffee shop. And as you were ordering your usual drink, you thought of Dr. Crane and how hardworking he was. You had noted the dark circles that were often under his eyes and how he was usually the last to leave Arkham for the day. He looked thinner every time you saw him and you wondered if he was even eating. Before you could even process your actions, you had ordered another coffee, picking one on a whim based off of Jonathan's taste: a dark roast with hints of cinnamon and a dash of cream.

And how did you know he would like it? Well, you couldn't be blamed if you had noticed him once or twice in the staff room - on the rare occasion that he ventured out of his office to reluctantly grab the hospital's rat-poison-flavored coffee. You'd noticed the way he would wrinkle his nose in distaste at the acrid, burnt flavor of the breakroom coffee, quickly sprinkling a dash of cinnamon from a small tin he kept in his pocket to improve the taste.

It was those small details - the way he would linger over each sip, savoring the subtle warmth and spice - that had given you insight into his refined palate. And when you had the chance to bring him his morning coffee, you knew you had to do something special, something that would truly please him.

You thought he deserved something nice. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Jonathan, knowing that your colleagues often spoke unkindly of him behind his back. The other psychologists at Arkham would whisper and snicker, casting judgmental glances in his direction as he hurried through the halls, his brow furrowed in concentration.

It saddened you to see the way they dismissed him, writing him off as nothing more than a cold, calculating eccentric. If only they could see the subtle nuances of his character, the flashes of dry wit and intellectual curiosity that you had come to admire.

You suspected that Jonathan was a deeply lonely man, so consumed by his work and his research that he had allowed the barriers around his heart to harden over time. And you couldn't help but wonder if, deep down, he craved the kind of genuine connection and understanding that so many of his peers seemed to take for granted.

That's why you had put so much thought into selecting the perfect coffee for him. You wanted him to know that there was at least one person at Arkham who saw him as more than just an oddity, more than just a means to an end. You wanted him to feel appreciated, to know that someone truly cared.

As you made your way to Jonathan's office, mug in hand, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. It wasn't exactly typical for a colleague to be bringing another coffee, especially one as reserved and enigmatic as Dr. Jonathan Crane. You knew you'd have to have a good excuse ready if he questioned your gesture.

Thankfully, inspiration struck as you neared his door. Earlier that morning, you had noticed the coffee maker in the staff break room was acting up again, only producing a weak, watered-down brew. Jonathan, being the devoted workaholic that he was, had likely missed his usual morning cup in his rush to get an early start.

You knocked on his office door, which was slightly ajar, "Good morning, Dr. Crane."

Jonathan looked up with brief surprise crossing his face, his eyebrows raised, before he quickly schooled his features into a more neutral and collected expression. He greeted you, his voice low and slightly raspy from lack of sleep, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You offered him the coffee, feeling a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. "I- um... The coffee machine has been acting up lately, so I brought you a fresh cup. It's probably better than the dreadful coffee they offer here anyway. I hope that's alright."

Jonathan eyed the mug skeptically, but after a moment's hesitation, he reached out and took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. "That's...very kind of you," he said, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied the contents of the cup.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the brief contact, but you tried your best to maintain a casual demeanor. "I know how important that first cup of coffee is, especially for someone as dedicated as you," you replied, offering him a small, hopefully reassuring smile.

His piercing blue eyes studied you for a moment, and you couldn't help but feel as though he was trying to read your thoughts.

You held your breath as Jonathan took a cautious sip, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, the silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the soft sound of rain tapping against the windowpane.

Then, to your relief and delight, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Jonathan's lips. "It's...quite good," he admitted, his tone almost surprised.

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words. You had hoped he would enjoy it, but hearing his genuine approval was more than you could have asked for.

"I'm glad you like it," you replied, unable to contain the smile that spread across your face. "I know it's not much, but I thought you deserved something better than the usual."

Jonathan's eyes softened as he met your gaze, a flicker of gratitude shining in their depths. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine.

With a nod of acknowledgment, you turned to leave, feeling a wave of accomplishment wash over you. You sensed that this would be the beginning of many more interactions with Jonathan Crane.

~

Over the next few weeks, it became routine for you to bring Jonathan his favorite coffee whenever you could, even if it meant waking up a bit earlier to make it to work. It was worth it to see a lovely smile grace his face, his entire lighting up youthfully. Gradually, the two of you began to exchange brief conversations in the hallway or during breaks.

You learned more about Jonathan than you ever imagined you would. He shared stories of his childhood - some being precious and others proving more saddening. He spoke about his love for literature and philosophy and his interest in the intricacies of the human mind. You found yourself drawn to his sharp intellect and dry wit.

Some of his casual sarcastic remarks and mutterings to himself had you practically crying with laughter, causing your colleagues to stare at you as if you were a madwoman if they happened to be nearby. After discovering how easily he could make you laugh, Jonathan began using your weakness to your advantage and making you giggle in the most serious of situations.

He had such a surprising humor to him that had only come out by spending more time with him the softness that peeked through his carefully composed exterior. You noticed other things about him too - little details that slowly painted a fuller picture of who Jonathan truly was. The manner in which his eyes would light up with a rare, genuine passion as he discussed the latest developments in psychology. The subtle way his hands would run unusually cold, a telltale sign of his underlying tension and nervousness. The habit of running his fingers through his dark hair when he was deep in thought, brow furrowed in concentration.

And then, of course, there were the moments of softness, the flashes of vulnerability that would occasionally peek through the carefully composed exterior he presented to the world. The slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he was truly amused by one of your witty exchanges. The gentle tone that would creep into his voice when he spoke of his favorite books or theories. It was in those unguarded instants that you caught glimpses of who the man truly was.

And there were moments when you began to realize that your fascination with him wasn't one-sided. Jonathan too asked about you and your life. He chuckled at your embarrassing stories and frowned when you mentioned the rougher parts of your childhood. He had an aptitude for listening and for giving sound advice, which made you realize just how incredible he was at what he did for a living.

But something more began to grow between the two of you. You felt an undeniable pull towards him that had only grown since that first step, that first cup of coffee. And sometimes, you felt the heaviness of his gaze mixed with an indescribable emotion. Whatever feeling it was behind his eyes - well, you wanted him to stare at you like that forever.

You had grown accustomed to the quiet camaraderie that had developed between you and Jonathan over the past few weeks. Your daily coffee deliveries had become a cherished ritual, and the easy banter you shared had slowly chipped away at the icy facade he so often presented to the world.

But today, as you made your way through the halls of Arkham, you couldn't help but overhear a hushed conversation between a few of your colleagues. Their words, laced with barely concealed disdain, filled you with unease.

"Can you believe that she brings Crane coffee every morning?" one of them scoffed. "As if he's not weird enough already."

Another chimed in, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Yeah, and have you noticed how much time she's been spending with him lately? Probably trying to whore herself off to get a promotion."

You felt your cheeks flush with hurt and embarrassment, your heart sinking. Was that really what they all thought of you? That you were simply using Jonathan for your own personal gain? That you weren't genuine about your desire for his friendship?

The discussion continued, the gossip growing more and more vicious until you couldn't bear it anymore. You felt tears creeping out of your eyes as you stalked down the halls and back to your office, avoiding every glance that came your way. You shut the door behind you, making your way directly to the small couch in your office and pulling a soft blanket around your trembling shoulders as the tears finally spilled over. The cruel words of your colleagues kept echoing in your mind, each barb cutting deeper than the last.

How could these colleagues of yours, who had faked their pleasantries with you and occasionally even asked you about your day, be so two-faced? How could they think so little of you? Of the genuine friendship you had forged with Jonathan? The time you had spent getting to know him, the way your heart raced whenever he fixed you with that piercing gaze - it was all so much more than some cheap ploy for favor or advancement.

You cared for Jonathan, more than you knew how to express. The warmth of his smile, the subtle softness that would sometimes peek through his carefully crafted facade - it had all wormed its way deep into your heart. And the thought of anyone diminishing those precious moments you shared cut you to the core.

As you sat there, your vision blurred by tears, you didn't hear the familiar knock at your door. It wasn't until you sensed a presence beside you that you looked up, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of Jonathan wearing a concerned expression.

"My dear, what's wrong?" he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he moved to sit beside you.

You couldn’t find the strength in you to respond, tears continuing to streak down your cheeks. Something in Jonathan's heart broke for you, and he placed a gentle arm around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace.

"It's alright." He spoke in a soothing, gentle tone, his fingertips lightly stroking your arm in a comforting gesture, "I'm here."

Jonathan waited for your sobs to subside and then carefully cradled your face, using his thumb to wipe away the remaining tears, "Tell me, what happened?" His brow furrowed with concern as he searched your face, waiting for you to find the right words.

Your breath was shaky, gaze falling as you recounted the gossip you had heard, "I-I was bringing you coffee - you know, like usual. But then I heard some of the others talking and..." You paused and Jonathan's expression darkened as he listened, his jaw tightening with barely contained anger.

"Some of the others talking, saying such horrible things. About how I'm only doing it to try and get ahead, that I'm..." Anger took over you as you utter the last part, "whoring myself off."

Jonathan practically gritted his teeth in anger at that. It was one thing for him to have to deal with the constant remarks and bullying in his life. By now, he was used to it - until that changed when he met you. But for you to be dragged into this, to be treated so horribly. He wouldn't stand for it.

"My dear, why on Earth would you put yourself through this for my sake?" His piercing blue eyes studied you intently, a hint of exasperation in his tone, "After all, I'm hardly worth the trouble, am I?" There was a self-deprecating edge to his words, like he truly believed he wasn't worth the effort.

Jonathan sighed, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features, "You shouldn't have to defend me, nor should you have to endure the cruelty of our colleagues. I'm quite accustomed to their...less than pleasant opinions of me." A wry, humorless smile tuggeed at the corners of his lips.

He pauses, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he meets your confused gaze. You didn't understand how he failed to see how incredible he actually was. You hesitated, murmuring, "They're wrong, you know. You're a wonderful friend and they just don't see that."

Jonathan's eyes widened but he hid his surprise with a soft smile, "Oh? Well I'm truly touched. I find your unwavering loyalty quite endearing."

You blushed as his expression turned impish, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, scrutinizing your words, "And friends, you say?"

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you nodded hesitantly. "Yes, I...I consider you my closest friend here, Jonathan." The admission slipped out before you could stop it, and you suddenly felt caught.

Jonathan's expression turned thoughtful, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Is that so?" He paused, his piercing gaze studying you intently. "Then how do you explain the time you fell asleep on my shoulder in my office?" His tone was lightly teasing, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Or that time we shared a cup of coffee, our lips mere inches apart?"

Your face reddened more and more as you tried to figure out a response. "T-that was just...I mean, it was only once! And the coffee, I just...I wanted to make sure you got the right order, that's all!"

Jonathan chuckled, clearly delighted by your flustered state. "Hmm, I see. And what about the fact that you knew exactly how I take my coffee from the very start? Cinnamon and all?" His fingers graze your cheek, leaving you to only want more of his touch. "Surely that goes beyond the realm of mere friendship, don't you think?"

He leaned in even closer, tilting his head with mock admonishment, his gaze flicking down to your lips for the briefest of moments. "And let's not forget that time I caught you...unbeknownst to you, of course...staring at my..."

You can't help but cut him off, your heart racing. "Alright, alright! I admit it, Jonathan. I...I've developed feelings for you. More than just friendship." You averted your gaze, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable. He noticed the fear on your face, which he would have taken pleasure in if you weren't you.

Jonathan's expression softened, and he reached out to gently tilt your chin up, meeting your eyes. "My dear, I don't doubt the sincerity of your affection." His voice was low and intimate. "And frankly, I'm quite flattered." He leaned in, his breath ghosting across your lips. "So tell me, is it still 'just friends' you want?"

"No?"

A subtle smile made its way onto his lips, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest. "Is that a question?" His thumb traced the outline of your mouth.

"No. I mean - yes. Argh, I-"

He chuckled at your struggle to speak, his lips grazing your ear as he murmured, "Am I making you nervous?"

You narrowed your eyes at him briefly, aware that he was taunting you, and whispered, "Yes." You didn't think you'd ever been this close to Jonathan. You noticed that his eyes have grey specks in them.

"Hm. Well, then...Tell me what it is that you truly want?"

The intensity of his gaze was almost overwhelming, making it difficult for you to think clearly. You found yourself captivated by the depth of emotion within his eyes.

"I want..." You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours and lips millimeters apart. Jonathan leaned back ever so slightly upon your pause. He was teasing you, eager for you to work for his touch. His hand moved down to trace the edge of your collarbone, giving you chills.

His pupils darkening, he murmured, "Say it."

You notice the bare anticipation and hunger in his gaze, but he also still had that same mischief about him. Unable to hold back your desire, you whispered, "I want you, Jonathan." Your voice was laced with a quiet intensity. "Your mind, your touch, your affection. All of you."

The words set off a proper reaction in him, and in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate kiss.

You gasped softly, the sensation of his mouth moving hungrily against yours setting your nerves on fire. Without breaking the kiss, Jonathan gently guided you backward, and you sunk down onto the couch as he hovered over you, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other keeping him upright.

In the halls, you had always noticed the musk of his cologne and the distinct smell of the spice he craved so dearly. Naturally, he tasted like cinnamon and his kiss was sweeter than you could have ever imagined.

He bit your lip and you allowed his tongue entrance into your mouth. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel all of him.

As you pulled his hips closer to yours, you could feel a hardness press on you. Jonathan groaned as you moved against him. You could stay like this forever, under him as he kissed you senselessly.

Eventually, you parted, both of you breathless and flushed. Jonathan gazed down at you, his eyes dark with desire. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, a blazing look in his eyes.

"You truly are a marvel, my dear. Ignore what nonsense anyone else says," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. He dips his head, nuzzling against your neck, his lips trailing featherlight kisses along your skin. "You are the cream in my coffee. You make my life sweeter. I hope to only bring you that same joy."

You softened immensely at his words. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he continued his gentle assault, intent on exploring every possible inch of you, his keen eyes noticed your little reactions to his touch. And you didn't mind one bit. You craved him. To think this had all simply started with a sweet cup of coffee...

@kpopgirlbtssvt @kiss-me-cill-me @mothhball hope you guys enjoy!

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #dc scarecrow #scarecrow #cillian murphy #batman #batman begins #the dark knight #dark knight #dark knight trilogy #the dark knight trilogy

[gothy-froggy]

❛  I want to taste you.  ❜

❛  all i could think about today was you.  ❜

❛  just lie back and let me take care of you.  ❜

Jonathan Crane x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Not proofread, Jonathan is lowkey a sub, a little rushed at the end, official first smut 😭

———————————————-

It's been a long shift. Troubling patients causing a ruckus, snotty coworkers just waiting to go home, some even hooking up in smaller spaces, angry visitors demanding requests.

It's all normal in Arkham Asylum. It felt like a normal day.

Jonathan sighed. His wrists pressed against his forehead as he leaned over the table in the break room. Out of all his years being at the asylum, this was his worst day yet. It was a lot worst than usual. One reason is because of the Asylum. On the other hand, it was his mind.

His thoughts.

Ever since last night's dream, he hasn't been focused on anything. He felt awful. He never thought he would have such dreams of his love. Not all of the sudden anyways. Never during their relationship did he have these dreams. Yes, his woman is very attractive, but he never thought about her in this way during a dream.

His mind distracted from her, gasping out his name echoing in his mind. It's not like he haven't heard them before. They've made love before, why was he so distracted by this dream?

The dream was so realistic too. He felt the warmth from her thighs as she clamped down on his face.

"The folder will be left on your desk, Dr. Crane.” One of the many workers chimed.

“Yes, thank you.” He grumbled. Jonathan removed his hands from his mouth before heading towards his office. He felt filthy for his thoughts. Even disgusted by them. He tried to get rid of that feeling, knowing it was the influence of his grandmother. His love has been helping him get over this influences. Maybe even more than she’s realized. He may not say it nor show it, but his love for her is far much deeper than she could ever imagine. He’ll show her, he just needs time. And he knows she’ll be there along the way. She’s willing to sweat and bleed with him. That’s something he’d always admired.

“Dr. Crane? Sorry, I just need your signature on these papers by the end of the day.” Jonathan flinched out of his thoughts. The woman smiled softly as she held the papers out.

“Of course. They’ll be done before then.” He slipped away into his office. He skimmed over the papers and sighed. More confirmation on patients and their state.

“Busy day?”

Jonathan froze. He couldn’t tell if this day about to get worse or better. No, that’s an idiotic thought. It’s his love. Of course this is better. The tense dissolved from his shoulders. All the negativity washed away.

But his thoughts came running back. He coughed lightly, tossing the papers on his desk with the others.

“Love, how did you get in?” He took his seat and leaned in into his chair. God he couldn’t focus anymore with her cheeky grin.

“I have my own ways.” Jonathan huffed out a chuckle. His fingers intertwined as he leaned over.

“My, my. It makes you sound like a criminal.” This truly was the only woman who could get a toothy grin out of him. Her giggled making his grin grow.

“How’s your day going?”

“Tormenting.” He groaned.

“I got them to let you off early today.”

Jonathan cocked an eyebrow. He stopped scrabbling through the papers. He barely captured her words. Getting off early? But there’s so much work to do-

No.

Jonathan pushed the partner in crime back. It wasn’t Scarecrow’s turn. He looked down at the papers. He signs the papers.

“After these, we can leave.” He replied. How thoughtful of her. She was always thoughtful. For some reason, he suddenly felt guilty for his thoughts of her. The flashes of his vivid thoughts flickered in front of his eyes. He opened his mouth before a knock interrupted.

“Dr. Crane- oh. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that your girlfriend was here.” The worker smiled, giving her a short wave.

“What it is, Donna?” He quickly snapped.

“Oh- um, I just need the papers. I wasn’t aware you’re leaving early.” Donna stumbled on her words. Great, he startled her.

“They’re done.” He held the papers out. She quickly snatched the papers.

“Perfect. Have a great rest of your day, Dr. Crane.” She hurried off.

Jonathan couldn’t focus. He got up and grabbed his coat.

“Are you ready?” He dragged his sigh. She knew something was up, but agreed.

————————————————-

Jonathan slouched on the couch once they got home. He didn’t even kick his shoes off. Jonathan gently tugged on his tie and closed his eyes. He heard his girlfriend walk over to him, kissing the top of his head. He loves that this happens. He opened his eyes, looking up at her with puppy eyes.

“I have to do the dishes, Jonny.” She ran her fingers through his hair. A shiver ran down his spine, making him shudder slightly. It didn’t help with his thoughts. He almost winced from it. Jonathan tilted his gaze up.

“You just rest, Crane.” Her hands slipped away from his hair. He already missed and craved for her touch. It frustrated him. He watched her washed the dishes. His partner in crime sneaking into his mind.

‘Stop holding back.’

This time, he listened.

Jonathan’s hands slithered around her waist. His head rests on her shoulder. The vibration from her laugh fills him with joy every time. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. She scratched his hair, instantly making Jonathan whimper quietly. He dragged her away from the dishes, guiding her to their room. The slight sloppy kisses being shared between them. The door shut from Jonathan’s body pressed against it.

 “All i could think about today was you.” Jonathan breathed. His eyes gazing into hers. He sounded so hesitant. Her finger gently rubbing his bottom lip.

“I was having thoughts. About you.” He murmured. He almost choked from her breathy chuckle.

“What were those thoughts, Jonny?” She questioned. Jonathan placed her on the bed. “Please,” he started.

“Just lie back and let me take care of you.” His hands traveled up her thighs. Jonathan  roses from the ground. His lips sucking and nipping her collarbone. Her soft gasps and hums of pleasure fueled his lust and desire. His hands help shrugging off the sleeves off her shoulders and attacks her revealed chest.

“Jon…” She mumbled, slightly tugging his hair. There were no more control in Jonathan anymore. The hair tug made him go feral. He groaned and wasted no time to remove her clothes. Jonathan buried his head in between her thighs. He was overwhelmed by her as always. She was so…perfect. So perfect, yet she’s with him.

“Why would something with such beauty allow me to do what I want?” His question was muffled.

“What do you want?”

“I want to taste you.”

Jonathan gave her clit a kiss. He slowly moved away.

“Not yet.” He slipped two fingers inside her pussy, moving at a slow pace. The grip on his hair tightens and his self control leaves. The breathy moans asking him to go faster weren’t left ignored. His fingers quickened their pace, occasionally curling up.

“Fuck, Jon-”

“Yes?”

“Please,” she moaned.

He removed his fingers and quickly latched on, sucking her juices with a satisfied hum. His lovers moans encouraged him to dive in and eat more. Making every nip and tongue swirling count. Jonathan ate her out as if he was a starved man. He made room to play with her clit, enjoying the feeling of her thighs pressing against his head. Her shudders letting him know he’s pleasing his lovely Goddess. And then he was rewarded. Her climax pouring into his mouth, leaving none to spill. Jonathan pressed kisses and love bites over her thighs. He lifts his head up. Jonathan reaches out to embrace her.

But he was stopped. He froze as he felt her hand wrapped around his neck. His heartbeat quickens.

“Jonny, we aren’t finished yet.” His eyes widened slightly as she climbed on top of him.

“I haven’t rewarded you yet.”

“You already have, love.” Confusion drove his sentence. She tsked and gave his neck a squeeze. He whimpered, his hand reaching for her arm.

“That was just the beginning.”

Jonathan couldn’t wait to heal and express his love. He truly love her.

#jonathan crane the scarecrow #jonathan crane #fan fic writing #jonathan crane x you #dark knight jonathan crane #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy jonathan crane #smut #the scarecrow x reader #dark knight #scarecrow jonathan crane #fanfic smut #dark knight Jonathan Crane x reader #smutty smut smut

[allysunny]

Pls pls pls friends to lovers with an ass load of pining!!! I love the trope where literally everyone but her can see that he’s in love with her and they’re basically dating without the title. She’s in love with him too but a little more guarded/scared. They have fun traditions like a book club, and Bruce gives her the princess treatment. Pls pls pls, I’d literally love you forever if you wrote this

Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 15k words

Warnings: Friends to lovers, pining, two idiots in love but way too blind to see it, Alfred being a very sassy butler (I love Michael Cane sm), possibly OOC Bruce (I've never written for him before), some angst, love confessions, Christmas! and mistletoe, eventual romance of course! Not beta, we die like Harvey Dent.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay, but as I told you, uni was kicking my ass. I'm back now, and hopefully I'll be able to write a lot!

So, this is my first Bale!Bruce request, and I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm super, super nervous because I've never written for this man in my entire life? I love this trilogy so bad and even rewatched all the movies as I was doing this, because I wanted to make sure I got him right. Sure, he's a vigilante and a billionaire and a supposed playboy, but he's also just a man, and I sort of wanted to explore that.

There's so many layers to this man, it is insane. If there's anything OOC about him, please do let me know. I swear to god I tried my best, and I hope you like the finished result.

This is my longest word so far - I'm so sorry! It was supposed to be kinda short and sweet but I just ran with it! I don't know if it was for the better or worst, but I hope you guys like it nevertheless. Again, I'm sorry if it's somewhat OOC, I tried to get everyone's personalities just right. I'm scared of not doing these movies justice. I also took some liberties with this - Bruce and Rachel don't have feelings for each other, Bruce often goes to charity galas, etc. Small things.

Also, it's set somewhat in between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight!

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

Ever since he was a child, he knew most people were after him and his family for the money. Family friends cashing in favours done ages ago, things as small as having once lent his father an umbrella, women pretending to befriend his mother to accompany her whenever she went shopping, kids at school getting closer to him only to get a peek at the famed Wayne Manor and all the wonders it hid inside.

He'd rather be alone than have such leeches around him, surrounding him like vultures, waiting for an opening.

Kids who'd mocked him would apologise profusely days later, having learned about his family, offering their friendship. Once Bruce made it clear he had no intentions of inviting anyone to his place (he was just shy, really), they'd take back their so called “friendship”.

He was better off without such people.

They were few, the people he could trust. And even those he called his “friends”, he didn't trust completely. His childhood best friend, Rachel, had grown up and busied herself at the DA’s office. She reached out to him after he’d returned after all those years in training, but she was a busy woman, and Bruce had found a new passion himself – patrolling the streets of Gotham dressed up as a bat. They would talk often, but it simply wasn’t the same. They were still friends of course – childhood could link two people – but he’d changed, and so had she. No matter how well they got along, they were changed people.

So, he was back to square one, with no people to truly confide in.

There was, after all, a reason only Alfred knew of his secret identity.

No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a stranger to loneliness.

He preferred the peace and quiet of his home office to the loud ambiences of the parties thrown by pretentious people who wanted to pass by as charitable, and found that sometimes, being by himself was a better option.

Bruce Wayne could count with his hands how many “friends” he had, and how many were simply greedy bloodsuckers trying to get to his fortune.

All but you, though.

Never you.

Bruce met you a few years ago, at the bakery you used to work at.

He wasn't a regular - hell, he didn't usually eat at places like those. Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, dined at the best restaurants - a truth universally acknowledged.

But after being stuck in traffic for about thirty minutes (he'd sent Alfred on a makeshift vacation, having miraculously been able to convince the old man to take some time for himself), he decided to exit the cab and go for a stroll.

It'd been a stressing day, with about a hundred reports coming in for him to sign at Wayne Enterprises, the prototypes for his new motorcycle had proved to be a failure, and he was simply exhausted. A walk would do him good, clear his head.

That's when he walked by the bakery, noticing the colourfully decorated cupcakes and pastries on the shelves. The pastel-coloured frostings seemed far too pretty to eat, and curiosity got the best of him, compelling him to go inside and purchase one.

That's when he first saw you.

You took a while to take his order, quickly informing him you were working all by yourself. One of your coworkers was in labour, the other on vacation. You were baking, cleaning and waitressing on your own.

Bruce was surprised, to say the least. You were taking over each station, keeping calm even under pressure and tending to each task diligently.

When asked who baked the frosted treats, you smiled and told him you baked those yourself. Apparently, it was your first time exposing them, the owner of the bakery finally giving you some leeway to try your own cakes and sweets.

“No one's tried them yet, though,” you said, sheepishly. “People don’t really want to try anything new. They’re scared my food is going to suck. I keep telling myself they’re just scared of change, you know. To keep my spirits high.”

“I hear that,” Bruce replied. If he knew anything about people, it was that they were all terrified of the unknown. “It’s Gotham – what can you do? You bump into lunatics every other day. I’ll have the one on the shop window, the one with the pink frosting.”

Your eyes sparkled then, and Bruce swore he’d do anything to see them shine again and again.

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful smile playing in your lips.

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

You gave him an enthusiastic nod and went to retrieve the cupcake, placing it on top of a small place along with a fork. He paid for the treat along with a cup of coffee and sat down on a nearby table.

Unlocking his phone, he found a few messages from Alfred, asking him if he hadn't burnt down the Manor yet. Sure, maybe he couldn't cook nor clean nor take care of himself that well, but that didn't warrant a fire brigade to go check up on him, now did it?

Burned to the ground, he texted back in a joking manner. All that's left are the red slippers I gave to you last Christmas. Hadn't you lost them? It's a miracle.

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

Bruce chuckled, assuring his trusted butler all was well, and locking his phone once again.

If he looked from the corner of his eye, he could see you, nervously chewing on your lip while you looked at his plate expectantly.

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

Bruce tasted the coffee first, deciding it was far better than whatever he was drinking at his office, and slowly cut the cupcake with his fork (because why would he use his hands). HIs eyes widened once he finally bit into it.

It was good, really good. It tasted like strawberries - not that artificial strawberry flavoured crap he was sure was in most of the food out there - actual strawberries.

The frosting was sugary, but not too much that it became nauseous, and the mix of flavours melted in his mouth.

You’d approached him, breath hitched as you awaited his verdict.

“So?” You asked, after a while, giving him an apologetic smile. “How is it?”

“It’s good.”

“Really?” You graced him with the brightest of smiles, holding onto your little notepad. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Way to go, Bruce. Not corny at all. You’re the man.

Pulling the chair next to him, you sighed in relief and sat down.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared no one was gonna like them.”

“The people of Gotham are idiots if they don’t want to try these.” He took another bite of his cupcake and your smile only got bigger.

“Well, you said it. It’s Gotham. Even something as simple as a different coffee order will get their panties in a twist. Look at how everyone reacted to that Bat guy. He takes out a few criminals and cleans the streets, and suddenly he’s the bad guy?” you inquire.

“Bat guy?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know! Bat guy! They’re calling him the Batman. You’ve probably seen him on TV. Black cape, black cowl, black, well, clothes?”

“Ah,” he nodded, “The Batman, yes. I might have heard of him.” Might have. “What’s his deal anyway? I think the police are calling the guy a criminal.”

You scoffed, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “A criminal? The guy’s doing a better job than most cops. I think they’re just jealous. And pissed that someone’s not up for briberies.”

Bruce nodded, before turning to his cupcake. You thought what Batman did was right. He brimmed with pride.

“I don’t know – he sounds like your typical Arkham resident to me. Dressed like a bat, running around with a black cape?” It was practically wired into his brain by now, the way he attempted to detach his Bruce Wayne persona from his Batman one. Even if he’d just met you, even if you seemed genuine, he couldn’t help but keep up the façade. “They should probably lock him up.”

“That’s nonsense!” you exclaimed. “He’s the only one willing to do something right for this city. The only one who’s not being compensated by turning a blind eye to criminals like half of the GCPD are. The streets are safer with him around.”

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

And wasn’t that the reason for all of this? To make Gotham a better place? To clean the streets, to give people some hope in amidst all the chaos and darkness? Wasn’t that his goal – to give Gotham citizens their city back to them, and allow them to live unruled by fear? 

“Anyway - I’m sorry, here I am, sitting next to you while you probably want to eat by yourself. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Taking care of the shop by myself makes me feel a tad lonely.” You gave him another apologetic smile (although this one did not reach your eyes), and got up, hurrying behind the counter.

For a few moments, Bruce sat in silence, eating his cupcake, and sipping from his coffee. Good stuff – nothing like the ones Alfred prepared for him, but still good.

When he glanced back up, he watched as you quickly washed some dishes, brow furrowed in concentration. He took you all in, the way you carefully rinsed every dish, ensuring it was stable on the tray nearby before moving onto the next one. Once or twice, you looked up, observing the city through the windows. He saw you sigh softly and get back to work.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. A big one.

It wasn’t only that you were strikingly beautiful – that helped too, quite a lot – but there was something more to you that Bruce couldn’t really pinpoint and wanted to get to know more of. He was tired of fake people. Of all the fake smiles and fake laughter and fake parties and having to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. It was all for the greater good, sure, but hiding behind a mask was draining. No one knew that better than Bruce Wayne.

Before he realised it, he’d stood up, placing his plate and cup on top of the counter. The soft “clack” of it made you turn around and your eyes widened slightly.

“Oh – “ you mumbled. “It’s okay, I usually just do that.”

“Lifting a cup and a plate won’t kill me, I assure you.”

You chuckled and took the dishes, turning to the sink.

“You’re not at all like what people say.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like they describe you,” you said with a small shrug. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear and Bruce’s hand twitched slightly, perhaps wishing to tuck it back himself.

“So you know who I am?” he asked, a curious smile forming in his lips. He wasn’t expecting to be completely ignorant of him – hell, it’s impossible to be unaware of his existence when you live in Gotham.

“I have a television and friends who love gossip magazines. It’s preposterous to think of a person who hasn’t come across your face, considering it’s slapped in nearly every tabloid ever.” You chuckled, soaking his plate. “And there was the matter of your credit card – I thought American Express was a myth.”

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

“Everyone says you’re an arrogant jerk – “ The words come out of your mouth before you can process them, and he chuckles mentally, finding the way you stumbled over your words quite amusing. “I mean, that’s what they say – I’m not saying that you’re one, I just – I’m just repeating what’s been told to me. Anyway, yeah. You don’t seem like that at all.”

“And what makes you say that? We’ve spoken for all but five minutes,” he cocked an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You think for a while, gripping the towel at your hands and shrug again.

“I don’t know.” You turn to him. “Call it intuition, but I just felt like you were being genuine. I mean, you don’t have a bazillion models hanging off your arms – and it looked like you walked all the way here. No fancy sports car like the ones in the magazines either.” Another shrug. “You just seemed like a random guy when you walked in. No fancy titles whatsoever.”

Just a random guy.

Sometimes it felt like such a thing was unattainable for Bruce.

In front of the cameras, he had to be spoiled, rich, reckless playboy Bruce who bought hotels on a whim, hung around with hot models and spent his money on useless luxuries such as cars and yachts. When no one was watching, he had the weight of Gotham in his shoulders as Batman, sacrificing his mind and body every night just to make sure his people were safe.

It was impossible for Bruce to be just a random guy, no matter how much he wanted to.

But the way you said it – like you truly believed it – made him think twice about it.

You weren’t grovelling at his feet. Nor were you pretending not to know him as many others had done, in order to appear mysterious and different, and therefore catch his attention. No, you were just being you – or what he hoped was you. You knew who he was, admitted to seeing his face and knowing of his affairs, but that didn’t stop you from treating him like a normal person.

Just a random guy.

“Or maybe I’m just biased because you liked my cupcakes.” There it was again, that lovely smile of yours.

And you were funny too.

“I’ll admit, that was my tactic all along.” Bruce allowed a hint of playfulness to tint his voice, and your smile widened at that.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, just Bruce.”

“Alright then. Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” You smiled and went back to cleaning the counter. (You half expected him to leave without saying a word – why’d a billionaire entertain your company for more than a few minutes? – and were surprised when he stayed.)

“I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but,” he started, “Would you like to join me for lunch one of these days?”

You eyed him curiously and cocked your head to the side, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

“Why? I don’t exactly belong with your people, Bruce – whoever they might be.”

“I was actually just hoping I’d get some free cupcakes.”

At this, you snorted out loud, covering your mouth with your hand. The other clients in the bakery looked at you with a slightly disgusted face, and it only made you laugh louder.

Once you stopped giggling (and after having wiped some tears from your eyes), you nodded and turned to him.

“Alright, fine. Lunch sounds great. Although – I’m sure you’re followed everywhere. And I don’t really want to be the latest gossip magazine cover.” You crossed your arms. Bruce nodded in understanding. After all, he knew how troublesome the media could be, especially when they were looking for any crumbs that might get them any insight into someone’s life.

(Un)fortunately for him, they couldn’t see past the playboy persona.

“I’ll take care of that – don’t worry.” Was his honest response. “Let’s say it’s easy for me to… become invisible.”

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

“And how are you going to do that? Gonna wear a cap and sunglasses? A wig? Do we get to wear disguises? Maybe you could wear a mask!” Funny.

“I’ll just leave the American Express at home. Do you think that new Pizza place everyone’s been talking about accepts hundreds?” Bruce joked.

Your snort resonated through the bakery again, and the couple that had glanced at you earlier left, shaking their heads and muttering something about “decorum”.

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

Turns out that around you, he could be just a random guy, like he always wanted.

He started going to your bakery more and more, and convinced your boss to let you experiment with your cupcakes however you wanted.

“How the hell did you manage that?” you asked him, mouth open in wonder. “She told me I had full control of the menu! Two weeks ago, she said she didn’t want to try my sweets!”

“I’m very persuasive,” he replied, biting into a banana flavoured muffin – one of your more recent experiments. “It’s a bit chunky. Kind of bland, doesn’t melt on your mouth like the others do.”

“Yeah, I think I went overboard with the flour…” you mumble, writing something down on your notepad. “Anyways, how persuasive can you be? This woman has drunk the same cup of coffee for like, 40 years. She hates change.”

“Let’s just say I worked my regular Wayne charm.”

At that, you rolled your eyes and hit him with your towel but couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips.

He’d stop by every day after work, eager to try out your new recipes and have a nice chat. It was freeing to have someone he could call his friend, with whom he could have conversations that weren’t about his job, his money, or his other affairs. It felt nice to be able to share things with you, things he couldn’t find it in himself to share with other people.

It took him a while, but he eventually told you things about himself. Slowly.

He told you about his parents, how much he looked up to his father and how he adored his mother. He told you about his childhood, playing in the gardens of his Manor or watching his father fiddle with the stethoscope, hoping one day he could make a difference just like him. He told you how sometimes he would just watch his mother apply makeup in her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked. Other women of the high society always looked like they had this world and the next worth of makeup on their faces, but his mother was able to enhance all her natural features with a simple eye pencil or some lipstick.

“Makeup shouldn’t be used to turn yourself into something new,” she’d once told him, applying some sort of clear powder on her face. “Just to complement the beauty you already have.”

He found it easy to relate to that. Not the makeup, necessarily, but the whole “turning into a new person”. Batman was no different than him, nor was he someone different. He just brought out Bruce’s biggest desires, to keep Gotham safe.

In return, you told him about your childhood. About your first years in school, your friends and family. You told him about your passions, your wishes. How you wanted to travel the world and read as many books as possible. How you liked to laze around some Saturdays but couldn’t stay home and just had to get up and leave in others.

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

Some days, you’d be running around the Manor, goofing around with Alfred, and whipping up new recipes with him, the both of you jamming to old jazz that played on the radio – Alfred had been teaching you swing, and you enjoyed spinning around the room with him as lively tunes played.

(In fact, Bruce had walked in on you and him dancing a few times, and couldn’t help but lean against the doorway, watching and you laughed loudly and tried not to fall whenever his butler spun you around.)

It also went without saying that Alfred was over the moon now that his master no longer seemed to be alone. You might only be one person, but the Manor came alive whenever you were in it, and he relished in knowing Bruce finally had someone he could trust besides himself.

At first, Bruce thought of you as a friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to have a good time with and relax. But as weeks turned to months, he found himself developing stronger feelings. It wasn’t about “having fun” and relaxing anymore, it was now about seeing you, making sure you were alright, listening to your every thought and feelings.

He thought it was normal, though. After all, aren’t friends supposed to care for each other and be eager to spend time together? After all, it had been a while since he had friends. At least ones that spoke to him on the regular, that were there for him. This whole thing was new to him. So, he kept these feelings hidden, convinced they were nothing but the norm, enjoying whatever silly activities you engaged in.

You two had, after all, your own little rituals.

You loved reading – always had, and believed to continue doing so until you were dead and buried. And despite not having a lot of time to do so, Bruce did too. So, it wasn’t long before you two created your own little book club along with Alfred.

You would prepare a batch of cookies, Alfred would make some tea, and Bruce would wait by the fireplace in the living room, since there was really nothing he could contribute with but his insight on the books you were reading.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his tea, and placing the mug on the coffee table by his feet.

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said – it was a terrible book.”

“I think you’re the first person ever to call The Great Gatsby a ‘terrible book’.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alfred, who was intent on hearing whatever you were going to say next. He too was quite curious, but he had an inkling he knew where you were going with this.

You just shrugged your shoulders and brought your legs to your chair, sitting on top of them. You felt at home in Wayne Manor. Bruce had told you to make yourself comfortable after the third time you visited, and you wasted no time in doing so.

“Jay Gatsby is one pretentious motherfucker,” you say.

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

“Sorry – I meant; Jay Gatsby is one pretentious douchebag.” You bowed your head towards Alfred and the butler nodded in acknowledgment.

“Wait – why?”

“Are you kidding me?” All you could do was scoff. “Gatsby is an obsessive narcissist, an egocentric pathological liar who cares about no one else other than himself, and much probably, a psychopath.”

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

“And the way he objectifies Daisy throughout the whole book – he doesn’t even love her! He loves the idea of her. He’s a jerk.”

Bruce couldn’t even interrupt you, because you were on a spree, gesticulating with your arms and talking fast.

“But let’s be honest here, it’s not like she loves him either.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Of course not! She’s a shallow, materialistic, spoiled brat and I can’t stand her!” You finished your little speech by taking a bite out of a cookie and crossing your arms.

“Huh. Right.” Bruce said, grabbing his copy of the book. “Well, I thought it was a great book. And I don’t think Gatsby is any of the things you said.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really. I think he is a misunderstood soul.”

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

“Yes, but you aren’t, and I would like to keep this household clean, for dear Master and Missus Wayne’s sake.” He replied casually, giving you that look you’d learn to interpret as “do not test me you silly little baker, for I am British and have the high ground”, and to which you just stuck your tongue out.

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

“And, well, I think he truly did love Daisy.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, no, and here’s why, he did everything for her.”

“Name one thing.”

“Well, he waited five whole years for her. I think that’s rather romantic. He went great lengths to impress Daisy and win her love. The parties, the money, his whole persona – it wasn’t him, but he did it all for Daisy.” Bruce explained calmly. Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows and just sipped from his teacup quietly.

“Bruce, the whole thing was a circus.” You reached in front of you to grab another cookie and took a bite out of it, missing the way your friend’s gaze dropped to your lips and then returned to your eyes in just a millisecond. “He was just showing off.”

“Perhaps,” Bruce said, “But perhaps he was just trying to be someone worthy of her. I’m sure love can make people do crazy things.” He wasn’t one to talk. It’s not like he knew what “love” was. He’d crushed on Rachel as kids, but that’s all it was, a silly childhood crush.

Perhaps the love he had for his city could count. He did do crazy things for it. Dressing up as a bat was an example.

You nodded your head a few times, pondering his answer.

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t think so. If he loved her, he should’ve just said it. There was no need for all the show.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows once again. A very you-ish reply. He was enjoying this immensely.

Bruce replayed her words in his head. He should’ve said it. Surely, it wasn’t that easy. Jay Gatsby wasn’t your average man. He was a mystery. He had secrets and things he needed to hide. It wasn’t as easy as just walking up to Daisy and telling her “I love you”. It wasn’t that simple. “You think so?” he asked.

“Well, yeah! Absolutely – I mean, why complicate things?” you replied. “He should’ve just dropped the luxuries, the parties, he should’ve just stopped with all of the eccentric millionaire thing, looked her in the eyes and say, ‘I love you’. Simple.”

"Absolutely! I mean, why complicate things? Just look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I love you.’ Simple.”

“Simple, huh?”

You nodded, taking another sip from your tea – you drank it sickeningly sweet, with lots of honey, while he preferred one or two spoons of sugar.

“Yeah. Simple. No need for the fancy parties, and mysterious acts. Just be genuine.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he mumbled. “But sometimes people have reasons for not saying what’s in their hearts. Sometimes they must hide their feelings.” It was true. You didn’t know he was Batman – you couldn’t. He needed to keep you safe. All you knew was that he worked a lot, plenty of times exhausting himself and arriving home super late. It was for the best.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully, which earned him a curious look from the both of you.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Please, do continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go on.

You gave him a weird look but simply turned to face Bruce once again.

“Reasons? Like what?”

Bruce couldn’t look you in the eye now. He shrugged and got suddenly very interested by the coffee table by his feet.

“Fear, maybe. Fear of what might happen if they open up. Fear of losing someone precious.”

You hummed, “Well, in my book, it’s always better to be honest and take the risk. Life’s too short for illusions. If Gatsby had just said it, maybe things would’ve been different. Who knows? But I still think he was one pompous son of a bitch.” You leaned back in your chair with a smug grin and finished the rest of your tea.

Alfred just excused himself and made his way towards the kitchen.

You certainly did bring some life into this once empty house.

You were lazing around in a Sunday afternoon, mindlessly scrolling your phone as a rerun of a show you liked played on TV. Even after a few years, it could still get some laughs out of you, and you’d look at the screen and smile.

All of a sudden, the couch dipped next to you.

Bruce had jumped over it, and landed next to you, sitting down comfortably, as if parkouring around Wayne Manor was something he did on the regular.

“Shit! Holy – Bruce!” You nearly jumped out of your seat, clutching your chest. Sometimes you wondered if Bruce wasn’t some sort of ninja. Being able to hide himself and be so silent wasn’t normal, and at times, to be frank, a little bit creepy.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and turned to you.

“Friday night, charity gala, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if he’d simply asked you what the weather was like outside.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the Carringtons are throwing a big party this Friday. It’s supposed to be this big fundraiser. The profits will go for new police facilities. As if those corrupt idiots needed them…” He sighed. “And clearly, Bruce Wayne must attend. And, as expected, he has to bring someone.”

You whined and threw your head back in frustration. You’d been to a couple of galas with Bruce. Most of them were dreadfully boring, filled with fake people whose only purpose there was to flaunt their money and pretend to care about whatever topics seemed most controversial. You hated them. The fake smiles, the gross men leering on you, the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Bruce (not that you minded. After all, you two were just friends. It just made you uncomfortable that they were so forward about his advances. Clearly, he wasn’t alone. He had you. Could they not see it? But of course, you two were just friends. Which meant you weren’t jealous. You just felt sorry for them, and extremely uncomfortable whenever they looked at, spoke to, or touched him. Duh.)

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

“I’m busy. Sorry Bruce, I have plans.” What a liar.

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

“Alfred checked your schedule – you’re free for the next two weeks.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back at the kitchen, where Alfred innocently prepared a few sandwiches.

“Damn him! I swear that man must’ve been a British spy!” you muttered, shaking your head.

“So, are you coming with me?” Bruce pressed on.

“I can’t – I have to return some videotapes.” You replied smugly.

Bruce gave you a dry laugh and threw a pillow in your direction, which you failed to dodge.

“Very funny. I’m serious – I can’t go by myself. Look, I know what this is going to sound like, but the Carringtons are only doing this to show off. They don’t care about the police; they want to show Gotham just how rich their grandfather’s money has made them. They’ve been around for years and never once donated – why now?”

“Just because you have to go, doesn’t mean that I have!” you too threw a pillow at him, but as always, his reflexes were on point, and he managed to catch it mid-air.

“Look, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

Bruce gave you a blank stare – that excuse did not stick anymore, not after he’d bought you a different dress for each party he had taken you to (“Think of it as a thank you gift”, he said).

“Just take a model. Or an actress. Or some other celebrity. You know me Bruce, I don’t belong with those people. They’re not my crowd.” You grabbed another pillow and prepared to throw it at him.

“I can’t stand another night of pretending to spend my free time buying hotels and yachts.” Bruce said your name softly and you let your guard down, lowering your arm. “It’s not me, and you know it.” You looked into those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to have soften – those eyes of his always made you melt, and you often found yourself saying yes to his every whim.

You pondered your choices.

He could take a model or an actress. The headlines would love speculating who the hell was Bruce Wayne messing around with this time. He’d have to pretend to be someone he was not for a whole evening – though you didn’t know why; only that, for some reason, he had a reputation to upkeep – and the next morning you’d wake up and seethe as you watched the shots paparazzi got of your best friend and some random floozy slobbering on top of him.

Or, you could go with him. It’d be a pain in the ass to pretend to like all of those people and to interact with those phony idiots who thought money was worth anything and would try their best to snake their ways in Bruce’s close circle. But you’d spend a nice evening with your friend, wear a pretty dress, drink some expensive champagne and be able to laugh at everyone else with him. There were worse fates than that, you were sure.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll come with you.”

Bruce did a small “yes” gesture with his arm, and then grabbed a nearby pillow. “Now, where were we?”

“Oh – OH don’t you dare, Bruce Wayne!” You lifted your arm once again, but before you could throw the pillow in his direction, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. You fell on top of his body, hands on either side of his head as they bore the weight of your body. Your face was inches away from his, and all you could do was stare into those brown eyes that had you so weak.

You blinked repeatedly, before quickly getting up. Your cheeks were flaring up and you grabbed your phone, standing up from the couch.

Bruce, on his end, was speechless. He watched as you stood up, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I – I should go. I need to… yeah, I gotta – I gotta do something. I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, and within seconds, you were out the door.

When you were gone, Alfred left the kitchen and walked towards the couch where Bruce was sitting, still silently staring at the wall.

“Is everything alright, Master Wayne?” he asked, although he didn’t really need an answer. He knew exactly what was going on with him. After all, he’d raised this boy like his own son for years.

“Yes,” Bruce cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am. Everything’s fine. How about those sandwiches you were making?” He tried changing the topic, but it was too late.

As Alfred walked back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think that he should probably schedule an optometrist appointment for his master. After all, one can’t help but be concerned when such a smart, capable man was so blind to matters of the heart. Almost as blind as a bat, one could say. He’d keep this joke for later. Bruce would hate it. Even better.

Funnily enough, Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought Bruce was blind to his feelings.

In fact, it seemed like everyone could see how smitten the Wayne billionaire was with you.

When you two went out, he would look at you with this sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You walked into the party, arm linked with his, and it was as if the whole world stopped to look at you two.

Everyone knew about your existence – it wasn’t the first time you accompanied Bruce to parties – Bruce Wayne and his close friend. Friend. Yeah, sure. If the glances he stole were any indication, the Wayne heir was nothing but completely enamoured with you. In fact, it was incredible how much he’d changed. His whole attitude changed when he was accompanied by you. No longer was he the reckless billionaire who drank too much and humiliated himself, but the elegant man who liked to engage in conversations (as long as the topics were interesting) and had a heart of gold.

Yes, everyone seemed to spot the change in demeanour whenever you two were together.

“Bruce!” A voice could be heard from the distance, and Rachel Dawes made her way towards the both of you. She smiled and spoke your name once she noticed you were the one accompanying her childhood friend, before hugging you. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you here!”

You hugged her back and gave her a genuine smile. You’d met Rachel before more than a few times – she was a lovely young woman with a great sense of justice, and you were sure she was going to do great things for Gotham’s wellbeing. You also enjoyed her company greatly, since she had once told you all of the embarrassing stories about Bruce’s childhood. “I had no idea you were going to be here!”

“Yeah, well,” she looked around and smiled, seemingly looking for someone. “I was just as surprised as you were.”

Then, a very familiar face emerged from the crowd, calling out “Rachel!” and walking to her side.

“There you were – you left so abruptly; I thought something was wrong.” The man said, before turning to look at you and Bruce. You took him in. Dirty blond hair and a familiar cleft chin. You furrowed your eyebrows, before it finally clicked in.

“You’re Harvey Dent – I’ve seen you on TV before,” you said, and he smiled in acknowledgement.

“That would be me, yes.” He put forward his hand, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

Harvey then turned to look at Bruce, extending his hand to him.

“And you must be Bruce Wayne. Rachel talks about you a lot.”

Bruce shook it and nodded.

“Hopefully she hasn’t disclosed everything about me, otherwise I’d be ruined.”

The two men chuckled, and you took that opportunity to look at Rachel. You looked from her to Harvey, opened your mouth and wiggled your eyebrows, earning a laugh from her. Rachel moved to your side as Bruce and Harvey spoke about Gotham and took your arm.

“Well, well, Miss Dawes. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” you asked in a hushed tone, still wiggling your eyebrows up and down. “How’d you meet?”

“At work. Harvey is running for district attorney. One thing led to another, and…” she trailed off, and you nudged her torso with your arm.

“And now you’re shagging future attorney Harvey Dent. Look at you go!”

Rachel covered her mouth with her hands and supressed a scoff.

“You’re unbelievable, and I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth ever! It’s just a casual thing, we’ve only gone on a few dates. Besides, you’re the one attending a charity gala with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. I think every woman in this room has you on a death list.”

“Pftt,” you waved your hand dismissively, “You know we’re just friends. Nothing for those women to be jealous about.”

“Ah, I see. You’re just friends.” Rachel nodded, feigning seriousness in her voice.

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

“That face you always do,” you motioned towards her face, nearly pouting. “We are! And that’s the end of the discussion! I don’t even know why we’re talking about my non-existent relationship with Bruce when you’re probably going to be First Lady someday – this is huge.”

Rachel swatted you with her purse and returned to Harvey’s side before giving you a cheeky smile – it felt nice to have a girl friend you could talk to in these scenarios. Usually, it was just you and Bruce, which, however pleasant, wasn’t the same thing as having a girl in there. You were happy to catch her off work – Rachel seemed like a different person at the office. While there, she maintained a strong and serious attitude, you were happy to see her when she had no work business to worry about and could simply be a girl with you.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much of your time, Mr. Wayne,” Harvey said, shaking Bruce’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet Rachel’s oldest friend.” He then turned to you, “And a pleasure to meet you too, Miss.” “Likewise,” you replied.

Bruce nodded.

“Of course. I’ll be sure to send you a nice bottle of Chardonnay when you’re elected district attorney,” he said in his best careless billionaire voice, and nodded at Rachel before the two walked away. “Who would’ve thought,” he muttered to you, beckoning a butler who was carrying a tray of champagne glasses close to him.

“Well, I think they’re lovely together,” you smiled and grabbed a glass, smiling once the liquid hit your lips. Champagne was always welcome.

“Well, you think everyone looks lovely together. You’re a sap.” You laugh at Bruce’s comment and hold onto his arm. He brings you close, absentmindedly, and the two of you walk around the party, occasionally being stopped by the average donor.

After eating some entrees and mingling with the guests, soft music started to play and ring throughout the room. You looked up, pleasantly surprised, and tugged at Bruce’s arm.

“Come on,”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – he was growing tired of pretending to share the same interests as these vile people. He wanted a respite from keeping the charade up, so he gladly took your hand and led you to the middle of what had become the dancefloor. You two weren’t the only ones in there, a couple more pairs having decided to dance.

Bruce gently held your waist and pulled you close to him, his other hand coming to lift yours.

“Thank you,” he spoke, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes glued onto the two of you.

“I could see you were about to actually punch that man right in the face,” you chuckled, looking at the person in question. He was a middle-aged man who could probably stand to lose a few pounds for the sake of his health, who was trying to talk Bruce into introducing him a couple of models. You just had to come to the rescue, because Bruce actually looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Thankfully, he was a good actor and simply promised the man he would surely hook him up with the woman of his dreams.

“I think it goes without saying I’m not introducing jack shit to him. I’m pretty sure he’s assaulted his female employers. I should have someone investigate it.”

“My, my. Bruce Wayne, ever the White Knight.” You smiled, and you could swear that for some minutes, the entire world faded away as the soft melodies of Camille Saint-Saëns filled the air.

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

The two of you kept dancing. You found looking into his eyes extremely hard, so you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at behind his shoulder continuously.

“I still haven’t told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Bruce finally broke the silence between you two, and you returned his gaze. He’d bought you a floor-length black John Galliano gown with delicate lace trim and a bias cut, and you had actually screamed into your pillow once you saw it – it was far too pretty.

“Thank you,” you reply, brushing some invisible dust from his shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Bruce lowered his voice and looked you in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

The two of you stopped dancing for a few moments, and you were unable to look away from his almost magnetic gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and you gripped his shoulder tighter, to make sure you were real, and he was real, and this whole ordeal was real.

He was just about to speak again, when you were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.

“Mr. Wayne! Oh, what a pleasure to have you here!”

You quickly pulled away from him as Catherine Carrington, a woman in her mid-40s with long, blonde hair approached the both of you and placed two loud kisses on either side of his cheeks. You looked away, trying to figure out how to properly breathe again, and fanned yourself with your hands.

Harrold Carrington, Catherine’s husband walked to her side and shook Bruce’s hand, far too interested in talking to you. You stifled a laugh – whoever was in charge of his wig had tone a terrible job, because it was clear as day his hairline was receding, and the hair he had on was fake.

“Ah, you must be the mysterious friend everyone has been talking about. We’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t we Miss? But I don’t think we’ve properly met – I’m Harrold Carrington. And may I say, you look splendid this evening.”

None of the Carringtons seemed interested in their spouses. Catherine was fawning over Bruce, and Harrold’s eyes lingered far too long on your exposed collarbone and cleavage. So much so, that you turned from him uncomfortably. Bruce was quick to notice your discomfort, and pulled you next to him once again, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes on the lady’s face, as opposed to her chest, Mr. Carrington,” he said with a smile that you could only identify as fake, and that smug voice he used when he was feeling particularly cocky.

All of the colour drained from Harrold’s face, and he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence – which he failed miserably. “I – I, well – I wasn’t – I would never! I – I was just –“

Bruce faced Catherine once again and gave her another fake smile.

“Lovely party Mrs. Carrington. Very nice of you to raise money for the Gotham Police Department. Very charitable, indeed. And the champagne is just splendid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard someone was eating caviar, and it’s not a real party without it, now is it?”

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah – he was just creepy. Shit, I hate galas.”

“Tell me about it,” Bruce sighed, before shaking his head. “How long have we been here for?”

“About two hours.”

“How about we ditch at three? I think it’d be a crime to abandon this party now. Especially when you look this dazzling.”

He was giving you that look once again, the one you couldn’t quite decipher, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Bruce, on the other hand, was freaking out. You looked lovely, even more so than usual. He’d been dancing with you, and all was perfect, and then that hag Catherine had to go and ruin everything.

Was it too much to ask for a quiet dance with his friend?

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

No, you weren’t his friend. At least not anymore.

He thought about your dance moments earlier. How you’d held onto him, far too shy to look him in the eye, lips slightly parted and eyes sparkly. He thought of how easily you leaned into his touch and how he liked having you by his side.

He thought of how much he enjoyed spending time with you, how much he laughed in your presence, how free he felt when he was with you. He could be himself, something that he felt he couldn’t be anywhere else. You were his safe haven. You were everything.

It was that night Bruce Wayne realised he was in love with you.

One time the both of you went out to do some Christmas shopping.

(“In November?” Bruce had asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Christmas sales have already started! And I bet everyone’s going to start super soon, so we need to get to it!” Was your reply. Bruce could only sigh and agree, like he always did when it came to you.)

Besides, it was the first Christmas you’d be able to spend together after 2 years of friendship. The last two had Bruce way too busy with his company (at least that’s what he told you. In reality, he had been tracking down a few criminals who’d been wreaking havoc days before.

The main point was: after two years of being friends, you would finally get to spend Christmas together. It’s not that you’d suffered those Christmases without him; you had friends and family. But you wanted to spend the holidays with who you now considered to be your closest friend.

Bruce, however, wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he was in love with. He hadn’t found the courage to tell you – not yet. He was afraid of ruining things, of hurting you. So he kept silent, relishing in the friendship the both of you had.

Approaching the mall, you had a small list in your hand, filled with names of everyone you wanted to buy a gift for. He had around five people in mind, so he did not need all those preparations.

Once you were in the crowded mall, Bruce would hold you close to him, shielding you from everyone who might bump into you. His hand would respectfully be in the small of your back, and if he needed you to get out of someone’s way (people who refused to look up from their phones were the worst), he would slide it to your waist and gently pull you towards him.

You’d stopped at a beauty store, wanting to buy a new skin care package for your closest friend at work – heavens knew how badly you needed her to keep you sane – so you’d asked Bruce for his opinion on a myriad of perfumes.

“See, I like this one, but I think the smell is a bit too strong,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the hand lotion’s sample on your hand and applying it there. “Here,” you reached your hand to him, and nearly all the air was sucked out of your lungs when Bruce carefully reached for it, holding your pulse in his and bringing it to his face. His lips nearly brushed against your skin as he took the smell of the lotion in, and at least a dozen of women who were shopping nearby swooned.

Bruce let go of your hand just as gently and you blinked a few times, trying to wake up from your little trance.

“It is a bit strong, yeah. You mentioned she’s got a sensitive nose, so maybe something less floral?”

You were quick to nod and walk away, afraid he’d notice the way your cheeks heat up and your pupils dilated.

Once you turned away from him, focusing on the other hand lotions, he sighed, still feeling a buzzing sensation in his hand. It was as if he could still feel your skin against his, and he had to shake his head to return to the task at hand. Control yourself.

At a clothing store, you held up different sweatshirts next to him, asking for his opinion on a gift to your father. He gave you his earnest opinion, and insisted on carrying all your bags once you were done.

“Bruce – come on, I can carry them. I’m not a baby,” you’d told him, sighing in exasperation.

“Just allow me. You’re still picking up things left and right, it’s better if I carry these for you.”

You two checked out a jewellery shop – you’d been saving up to buy your mom a pair of earrings, and while you busied yourself looking through rows and rows of pairs, looking for the one you had your eyes on, Bruce quickly excused himself, and turned to a shop helper.

Approaching the counter, he placed the delicate pair of pearl earrings next to the cashier, glancing around just to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.

“Would you like these to be gift wrapped?” The cashier asked.

“Yes please.”

Bruce continued glancing around. You too were speaking to a shop helper, pointing to the delicate pair of gold earrings you wanted to get.

“A gift for a special someone?” The cashier asked once again with a polite smile. Bruce wasn’t dumb. If he were anyone else, this would be a regular, standard question asked by shop clerks to keep a friendly conversation going. But he’s not just anyone else. He’d noticed the way the woman had glanced him up and down with a wishful expression and could bet all his money that if he were to reveal more than necessary, then she would turn to any gossip magazine as soon as he was out the door and spill whatever nonsense she thought it was going on.

He gave her a curt nod, paid for the earrings (now neatly placed inside of a box and wrapped with a pretty red ribbon), and returned to your side, hiding the box inside his jacket’s pocket.

“Did you find them?” he asked once he got to your side, and if it were anyone else, you would’ve jumped, but by now you were used to Bruce. You seemed to lean into his side and smiled, looking at the pair of hoops the shop helper brought to the counter.

“Yeah – she’s gonna love them! I was super scared they’d be sold out Bruce, I’ve been working my ass off to get these. I’m so proud of myself,” your smile was contagious, and Bruce found himself bringing you closer to him by the waist and giving you one of his super rare smiles. Once again, every woman within a five-mile radio sighed, basically eating him up with their eyes. It was no secret Bruce Wayne was a handsome man – not to mention Gotham’s most eligible bachelor – but to see him act so affectionate in public was a completely different thing, and it was clear more than woman had gotten jealous just looking at you.

(Their boyfriends were not happy with the way said women ogled Bruce up and down.)

“I’m proud of you too.” Bruce replied. It was true. You were a hardworking woman, and he beamed with pride at your accomplishments.

Of course he didn’t tell you he bribed the store to keep the earrings stored until you came along to buy them – he wasn’t about to let someone snatch the thing you’d been working so hard to get – but it didn’t matter. You’d earned it.

You grinned at him and reluctantly broke free from his hold.

“I’m gonna go pay for these, meet me outside?”

He nodded and walked outside of the store, hand coming to pat the box inside of his pocket. They’d look incredible with his mother’s pearl necklace, that’s for sure.

He carried your things to the limo, and upon arriving to the Manor, he distracted you with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows, before handing Alfred the little white box and telling him to keep it a secret. The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you discussing presents, drinking your hot chocolate, and watching some Christmas movies as the wood in the fireplaced cracked piece by piece, enveloping you both in a cozy warmth.

Later that month, the two of you were sitting at an expensive café, having a few treats, and talking about your Christmas shopping. Although the place was very fancy and its prices had shocked you, so had the quality of their food.

“This is garbage,” you said, eyeing the cupcake on your plate. “Holy shit, who baked these? It feels like I’m chewing on a brick!”

“Yours are much better, yes,” Bruce agreed, taking his own cupcake, and looking at it carefully. “And that’s this awful taste?”

“I think she added lemon juice, but it doesn’t work in this recipe, not at all. You’ll see, it’ll basically nullify the sweetness of it, and the whole thing is just gonna taste like one sour cupcake. Gosh, people pay their rent’s worth of money for these?”

Bruce could listen to you talk for hours on end. The way your eyes lit up when you found a topic you were interested in, and how genuinely passionate you were about your hobbies. Your genuineness was something he praised and found himself looking for more and more. In fact, one of the reasons he’d taken you to this specific café was because he knew the cupcakes sucked – he’d eaten there before. He just wanted to hear you talk about them.

An old woman approached your table, wearing a Santa Claus had on top of her head, and a few Christmas related pins on her waitress apron.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, no thank you, we’re fine.” You replied, returning it «.

“I see. Well, I’d just like to say, it’s a real gift to see such precious young love.” The woman gestured at the both of you, and your cheeks flared up. “This city can be so dark and gloomy sometimes; it warms my heart to know that love still prevails on top of all. You two are such a lovely couple.”

“We’re –“ you coughed, trying to clear your throat. “We’re not – we’re not a couple.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, we’re just – we’re just friends!” you were quick to correct her and refused to meet Bruce in the eye.

Oh, right. Bruce. He was staring at the old woman, completely lost in thought. This woman thought you two were a couple. Did you look like it? And why had you shut her down so quickly? Did you hate the idea that much? Would it be so terrible if the two of you were to date?

“Oh, I am so sorry then, my apologies!” the waitress was quick to apologise. “It’s just – you two look rather lovely together. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She walked away and you covered your cheeks with your hands, trying to mask the sudden blush that had overcome you.

Bruce, on his end, was still staring at where the woman had been. Did you two look like a couple that much? He wouldn’t mind it. No, not really, he wouldn’t mind being a couple with you. He could finally drop that stupid playboy persona, be one step closer to his real self. He could protect you and always keep you safe and closer to him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and be greeted with that dazzling smile of yours. Would you ask him for five more minutes in bed? Act all grumpy until you had your morning coffee? Would you drag him out of his bedroom to start the day and be productive?

“Shall we go?” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your now empty mug on top of your plate. “It’s gonna get dark soon, and I wanted to see the Christmas lights.” Your voice was lower, still tinted with some nervousness. Bruce snapped out of it and nodded, walking towards the counter to pay the bill.

While he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, to wake yourself up and hopefully cool down.

Once you were ready, you walked out of the café, strolling the streets of Gotham.

Sometimes it surprised you how pretty your city could be. Sure, there was chaos and corruption, and most of the times it was a fucking shithole, but it was still home, and the tall buildings and bright lights could still take your breath away.

You and Bruce walked side by side. You were still far too nervous to look at him, so you kept your distance. Bruce, respectful as ever, remained by your side, refusing to touch you until you gave him permission. As you were looking at the prettily decorated shop windows and houses, he could see the way your body shivered and trembled.

That’s what you got for refusing to bring a jacket because, “your outfit looked far too pretty to be hidden behind a coat”.

“Cold?” he asked.

“N-no. Not at all. I’m fine. I told you; these tights are really warm.” Your voice was trembling, and your teeth were close to chattering. A part of Bruce wanted to see you fight for your case just a bit longer, while the other just longed to envelop you in his arms and keep the cold away.

“Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure the tips of your fingers are turning blue.” He said with a smug expression.

“No, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding eagerly. “I told you; I wouldn’t be cold. I’m not.”

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

After a few minutes, it was far too obvious you were freezing. Your body was trembling, your teeth were chattering, and he was sure he could see your lips becoming a dark shade of purple.

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to him in confusion.

“Preventing you from catching pneumonia,” he replied, handing it to you.

“N-no, T-that’s not n-necessary, Bruce. I’m fine. I’m n-not cold. I’m f-fine! See? Just p-peachy.”

Bruce had faced criminals and villains and corrupt cops, and they’d all lied to him at one point or another. None was as bad as you.

He gave you one of his “I told you so” looks, and you nearly pouted, spreading your arms as he helped you put the jacket on. Almost instantly, you felt warmth spread through your body and sighed in relief. Bruce also removed his scarf, and carefully wrapped around your neck, hands lingering on your face for longer than necessary when he brushed a few strands away from it.

“Better?” he murmured.

You looked at him through your lashes. He was close. Very close. So close, that you could hear your heartbeat hammering on your chest. You gave him a soft “mhm” and he returned to your side, keeping a respectful distance from you.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked him. It made you feel terrible – it was freezing in Gotham, and you’d taken his only sources of comfort.

“I’m fine – believe me. I’d much rather have you not freezing on me.” He replied.

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

Suddenly, while crossing the street, some careless motorbike showed up out of nowhere. You shrieked in surprise, and froze in your place, closing your eyes in fear. A pair of strong arms pulled you away, and you collided with a strong figure. Bruce was holding you close, cursing the driver under his breath. Once you looked up to you look at him, he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking all over your face to make sure you were unharmed.

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

“I know. It’s like you can’t trust anyone with a license these days.” He muttered. It hurt to part from you. It was like you were made to stand next to him, body slotting perfectly with his. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, giving you space, but was surprised when you held onto his arm, like you usually do.

You looked at him, silently asking for permission, which he granted. You scooted closer to him, and he smiled.

The two of you continued walking through the streets of Gotham, making comments on the architecture, the lighting, the people. There were small stalls selling all sorts of trinkets and goods, a sort of small Christmas market, and you smiled as you saw kids running around with balloons or cups of hot chocolate. It was dark and gloomy, but once again, Gotham could be so very beautiful.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady?” An old vendor asked, extending a pretty rose in your direction.

“Oh, no thank you – “ you mumbled, shaking your head, but Bruce was quicker.

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the flower in his hands. He handed the man a bill (and surely a big one at that, because the man’s eyes widened, and he stared at it for quite a while before thanking Bruce profusely.)

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

You weren’t sure if it was from his jacket, or if your whole body had simply decided to set itself on fire. You took the flower and brought it up to your nose, the intoxicating smell of it filling your senses.

“Thank you,” you said, still looking at it. No one had ever bought you flowers.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he repeated the old man’s words, and continued walking with you by his side, but not without hearing the old man say something about how “beautiful it was to see love bringing people together”. You didn’t seem to have heard it, but Bruce did, and he smiled.

It was Christmas Eve, and you were in Wayne Manor, having dinner with Bruce and Alfred (whom he begged to take a seat at the table with the two of you). There was wine and plenty of food, and the three of you had a great time, sharing funny stories and anecdotes and just enjoying each other’s companies.

You had promised your family to visit them the day after and were dead set on spending the Eve with Bruce.

After dinner, you sat near the fireplace, talking about books, movies, and whatever silly topic that came to mind. You, with your legs comfortably spread on the couch, Alfred on the big chair, and Bruce on the floor, by your feet. To him, that was the closest he had to spending Christmas with his family, and wondered if his parents would’ve enjoyed your company. Of course they’d have, he thought, you’re perfect.

After the three of you had played a few games (Alfred had won at charades, his Batman impression making you laugh for five minutes straight), you stood up announcing that, since it was almost midnight, you wanted everyone to open their gifts. It was more about you giving yours away than opening them, really – you were quite proud of the gifts you’d bought and wanted Bruce’s and Alfred’s reactions as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright, alright, me first! Here – Alfred, these are for you!” You handed him about five different packages, and he looked at you with a fond expression in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

“Well, but I did. I need to spoil my swing partner, don’t I?”

He smiled at your antics and slowly opened the packages, one by one. Inside, there were a few woollen sweaters with matching-coloured ties.

“They’re really warm, you know. And it’s real wool – the quality of these is amazing! And you can even wear them without the ties, for a more casual look. What do you think? Do you like them?” you asked eagerly, hoping to get the response you wanted.

“I do, Miss. Thank you. These are lovely.”

You beamed and hugged him tightly. “Promise? There’s a receipt somewhere if you don’t like them – but I just thought they looked so cool and they were so pretty and the fabric is so soft, and – “

“Yes, Miss. I promise. Thank you. These are splendid.”

“Well, since we’re spoiling Alfred, I don’t really want to get left out.” Bruce joked, before reaching for an envelope sitting on top of the Christmas tree (decorated by the both of you on the first of December, thank you very much.) He handed his butler the envelope and sat back, awaiting his reply.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” Alfred said, looking at the contents of the envelope intently.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a few weeks.” Bruce replied smugly. “If anyone deserves a vacation in this house, it’s you.”

When Alfred didn’t reply, Bruce raised an eyebrow, worry starting to pool in his stomach.

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

“A ticket to the Maldives, Master Wayne? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Bruce grinned, nodding. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do indeed, but, if I may express a tiny complaint…”

“Of course, Alfred. You can always speak your mind.”

“You’re a bit of a cheapskate, Master Wayne.”

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

“A cheapskate. I see. And why is that?”

“After all I’ve done for you, three weeks of vacation seems a bit stingy, don’t you think?” Although he was saying this, he had a smile playing in his lips. Clearly none of it was serious.

“It’s not like I can function without you Alfred. Can’t have you enjoying too much time off, now, can we? You might remember just how fantastic life is outside this place and never return. You’ll be here forever. You’ve changed my diapers when I was born, and you’ll change them when I’m old and gray.”

“I knew I should’ve never accepted Thomas Wayne’s job offer back then.” He muttered. But he then turned to Bruce and gave him an earnest smile. “Thank you, sir. This is very thoughtful of you.”

After that, it was his turn to give you your presents. He gave Bruce a (very expensive) bottle of wine, that he expressed “wanted it to be opened on a very special occasion” with a wink – which made Bruce clear his throat and change the subject. You received a burgundy scarf he’d brought from his latest trip to England, from a shop you’ve expressed your admiration for a few times.

“Holy – oh my god! This is incredible, I mean, look at it!” You hugged him tightly and wrapped the scarf around your neck, not caring that it was far too warm inside the Manor for you to require a scarf.

“Well, now, it seems to be getting rather late for me,” he announced, standing up.

“Oh? You don’t wanna stay here until midnight?”

Alfred shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Miss. I’m quite tired. I’ll be retiring for the night.”

“Alright, Alfred. Goodnight.” Bruce said with a curt nod.

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

You’d turned away to investigate your scarf once again, you missed the look Alfred gave his master, which made him sigh and look at you fondly.

“Alright – now it’s my turn! I need to go get your gift, just wait in here!” You were quick to stand up and disappear into the hallway. You’d been gone for a few minutes, so Bruce went after you, wondering if everything was alright. He bumped into you near the grand staircase at the entrance, and you jumped.

“Christ – you need to stop scaring me like that!” you reprimanded him.

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

“Anyway,” you mumbled, presenting him with a small black box. “This is for you. I know it’s not nearly as fancy as the ones you already have but – well, it’s Christmas and it’s the thought that counts, is it not?” There was a certain nervousness in your voice, Bruce could feel it.

He gently took the box from you, and opened it, revealing a fancy looking black Hugo Boss watch. His fingers trailed the screen and the expensive leather strap.

“I know you have a ton of those, but I thought, hey, this one’s special, this one’s from me!” Before you could keep on with your nervous ramblings, Bruce brought you close, hugging you tightly. You smiled against his chest and wrapped your hands around his torso. This was nice. This was comfortable and familiar and nice.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, and you almost melted at the cadence of his voice.

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

When you two pulled away, something caught his eye. Looking up, he realised the both of you were standing right underneath a few branches of mistletoe. You followed his eyes and blushed furiously, your whole body heating up.

Bruce said your name and you turned to look at him, feeling as light as a feather.

“Look, I – there’s something I would like to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce thought of all you’d been through together. Laughter, tears, giggles, and scowls. You’d had great times, reading books, walking around, spending time together, and bad times, when he blew you off, choosing Gotham city at night over you. He thought of all he told you, all he trusted you with.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time with you,” he began.

“I enjoy spending time with you too.” You inched closer to him, hands still on his chest.

“You’re amazing, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. You see through my charade. I can be myself when I’m around you.”

He thought back on the charity gala, on you wearing that lovely black dress, dancing with him. He thought of holding your hand and pulling you close to him to keep you safe. He thought of your sparkly eyes and delicate lips, and how much he could stare into the former and how badly he wanted to kiss the later.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about how badly he wanted to always be with you. How much he’d love to wake up next to you, feel your skin against his, be able to shout from the rooftops that you’re his and his alone. He thought about dropping to one knee and seeing you walking down an aisle wearing the prettiest of white dresses. He saw a lifetime with you, side by side.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

How he’d have to cancel date after date after date, prioritising the black suit over your relationship. He thought of you getting worried sick when he got home late, frowning as you looked at his scars and bruises. He could see it vividly, how you’d cry and beg him not to leave you, to choose you over the city for once in his life, and how he’d leave you to cry all of your tears as he put the cowl on.

“Is…”

“Is…?” You pressed further, eyes dropping to his lips.

He saw argument after argument, saw you screaming at him, accusing him of not loving you. He saw nights spent in the couch, because you were far too angry to let him in your bed. He saw your sad eyes welling up with tears in the middle of romantic dates after he’d told you he had to go because the bat signal was shining in the night sky. He thought about someone finding his identity and going after you first and foremost. He saw you tied up in some random chair, mouth gagged and tears running down your streak as some criminal tortured you to get to him.

He saw your lifeless body inside a coffin, skin devoid of colour, eyes closed, to never open again, and how he’d spend the rest of his life hating both himself and his mask.

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

“Is… You’re a great friend. Thank you.” He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner and walked away, leaving you wide eyed and speechless under the mistletoe.

Later, he’d gift you the first edition of your favourite classic novel and wish you goodnight with a polite nod of his head, going up to his bedroom.

Before he went to sleep, he locked the pearl earrings and his mother’s necklace inside his drawer.

Things were awkward between you two. Your friendship with Bruce was still there, but he was sort of distant. Your weekly book club meetings still happened, and he still dropped by your café to drink coffee and try new cupcake recipes, but everything seemed to have changed after Christmas Eve.

So, you tried to move on with your life.

A few weeks after Christmas, your bakery started to work with a new supplier, and you quickly befriended the delivery guy, Tom. While you started to look forward to his visits more and more, it still did not feel the same as when you were with Bruce, and you felt guilty for hanging out with him.

One day, Bruce came in for his regular cup of coffee and a cupcake and found you smiling and giggling at a guy at the counter. His first reaction was to punch the guy to next Sunday, but thankfully he calmed down and approached you with a polite smile on his face.

“Hey there,” he greeted you, not sparing Tom a single glance.

“Oh! Hey Bruce – this is Tom. He’s the delivery guy from the new supplier.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realised the Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him and tried his best to shake his hand nonchalantly.

“I’ll be right with you,” you told him, and continued your conversation with Tom.

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

And why were you smiling so much? What the fuck did he have that Bruce didn’t?

Most likely, it was what Bruce didn’t have that make a difference – a mask, a secret identity, a promise made to Gotham.

After you were done chatting with the delivery guy, you placed a cupcake and a cup of coffee in front of Bruce, but instead of sitting down with him, you returned to the counter and resumed your conversation.

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

On Christmas day, after you’d left, Alfred had asked what happened.

Bruce told him everything. How he couldn’t be with you because of Batman, how he couldn’t risk your safety and life, how he pushed you away.

Alfred lectured him, telling his master that his mask was going to be the end of him, but Bruce refused to listen and went to the batcave to busy himself and get his mind off you.

As he looked at you now, radiant and smiling at someone else, he realised that he might’ve made a big, big mistake.

It wasn’t long until you two started dating. It was casual, nothing too serious, but Bruce still seethed on the inside. He found himself staring at you for longer, hands lingering on yours whenever he touched you, and his heart ached more and more whenever he saw you with Tom.

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

Because the truth was, you weren’t doing as well as Bruce thought you were. Tom was a nice man, yeah, but there was something off about the whole thing. He was good looking, yes, and very kind. He listened to you and made you, his priority. He was a dream. But there was just one problem, he wasn’t Bruce.

When you two went out, you often found yourself wishing it was Bruce’s arms wrapped around you. When you two went shopping and you decided to go try on a few hand lotions, Tom simply bent over to sniff your hand, and you were brought back to that time last November when Bruce held you with such gentleness, you nearly melted.

Tom always reminded you to bring a jacket, and you did so diligently, unconsciously put off by the idea of wearing his. He’d once given it to you, and it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t wrap it around you securely, he didn’t brush the hair away from your face, he didn’t look at you the way Bruce did. He was an amazing guy, and you liked him.

But that was it.

Still, you kept your relationship going, hoping your feelings would change.

After all, it’s not like you had ever felt anything for Bruce, right?

He was just a good friend.

You enjoyed spending time with him, sure, but that was it.

So, you looked forward to every time the two of you hung out. And your heartbeat quickened every time he was near. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You easily got angry or upset whenever other women looked at him, and even more so when he entertained their advances. You longed to have him hold you in your arms.

But that was all normal, right? It just meant you were great friends.

You mind goes back to Christmas Eve, and the way he hugged you. Standing under that mistletoe, there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him. You remember looking at him and wishing so bad that he would lean down and press his lips against yours. Just friends don’t kiss.

And that’s what you were to him – just a friend. He’d say that himself.

So why were you so heartbroken?

Looking at an empty coffee mug, it suddenly hit you like a train.

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

So there was no need to feel guilty over going out with Tom, right? Even if you didn’t particularly want to kiss him and didn’t want his hands around you when you two went out. Even if you were reluctant to introduce you as “your boyfriend” and had more than once ditched him to stay home and rethink your life decisions.

Even if when the two of you went out on dates, you barely paid any attention to him, focusing on the times you’d sat down with Bruce over a drink and just laughed your asses off and spoke until the crack of dawn.

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

On a lovely April afternoon, you were helping Bruce do some spring cleaning. You were both wearing some casual, old clothes, and helping Alfred to make sure the Manor ended up spotless.

You were currently in charge of the spacious living room, carefully placing picture frames on top of the coffee table so you could clean the fireplace. You looked at the framed memories. Pictures of Bruce as a child, or with his parents. There was one with a young Bruce standing on his father’s shoulders, and another one of him hugging Alfred.

You smiled to yourself. What a cute kid, he was. He seemed so happy.

There were pictures of him with Rachel, knees scraped and clothes dirty from the mud, and some with you. Your gaze lingered on those.

There was one framed selfie with the two of you, faces full of flour and whipped cream. You’d been teaching him how to bake, but the whole ordeal ended up in a small food fight – which he’d won. You chuckled at the memories of trying to teach Mr. “I’m far too rich to cook because I have people to do it for me” how to measure cups of flour, and break eggs. You’d held onto his arms and guided him to make sure he got the measurements just right.

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

The other picture in your hand had been taken at the Carrington gala.

You were wearing your pretty (and extremely expensive) black dress and were smiling at the camera. You were leaning into Bruce’s touch, who was holding you close by the waist. Instead of looking at the camera, he was instead looking at you.

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

How you had loved dancing with him. Being held by him as if you were the only person in the world he cared about. Your fingers traced his figure in the picture, and a tear fell down your cheek, falling on top of the glass.

“Hey, are you done with the fireplace?” You jumped at the voice behind you, and dropped the frame, which fell on the floor and broke into a million little pieces.

“Shit!” you mumbled, quick to crouch and try to pick up each glass shard. Bruce was quicker though, and made his way towards you, pulling you away from the soiled floor.

“No, get away from this, you might get hurt. I’ll call Alfred and – “ he looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t look away from the mess you had made. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry – I broke it.”

“No, no. It’s okay, we’ll just get a new frame.” Bruce assured you, hands resting on your shoulders.

“No – fuck ­– it’s not okay! None of this is okay!” You cried, and he pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’s just a frame. We’ll get a new one. And we’ll clean the floor.”

You cried in his arms for a while, until your sobs subsided into quiet sniffs. Bruce didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, holding you tight. He’d never let you go.

After a while, you broke the silence.

“I – “ sniff, “ – I broke up with Tom,” you mumbled.

Bruce’s expression was one of surprise. Really? Why would you though? You two seemed happy.

“I… I don’t really think I liked him…” you continued; voice muffled by his chest. “I think I was dating him simply because I wanted to forget you…”

What?

He looked at you, but you refused to face him, face pressing harder against his chest.

“I’m such an idiot, Bruce… Everything was fine, and then I went and fell for you… And now our friendship is going to be ruined, and I broke your picture frame…”

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

“I’m sorry, Bruce… I’m so sorry – I promise I’ll fix this. I – I’ll stop loving you and we can go back to being friends, and – “

Bruce used his thumb to lift your face up and looked straight into your eyes. There was nowhere to run. You were trapped, and so was he.

“You love me?” he asked, voice as soft as you’d ever heard it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words out loud, so you opted for nodding.

“But – Tom –“

“Tom was a distraction,” you sniffled, “And I feel terrible about it. But I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to forget about you.”

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, using the same thumb to rub circles on the skin of your cheek. His gaze fell on your lips.

He had two choices. He could let you go once again. He could walk away from you, tell you he didn’t love you back. He could watch as you eventually moved on with your life (this time for real) and protect you from having to choose between Bruce Wayne and Batman.

He could give up the love of his life forever.

Or he could kiss you. He could tell you how he felt. He could trust you with that darker side of him, and you two could figure it out along the way. He could take it easy. He could bare his heart and finally tell you how you felt.

Two sides of him fought against each other, but ultimately, one was stronger.

He bent down and took your lips in his, sliding his hands up to your face to cradle it.

You were surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back with vigour, tears of happiness falling down your cheeks. How you’d wanted this. And now, it was finally happening.

When you two parted for air, Bruce refused to let you go, standing mere inches away from you. His nose nuzzled yours, and he whispered a quiet, “I love you.”

You don’t know wat surprised you more. That he’d say it, or that you said it back.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pressing yourself against him and kissing him once again.

Bruce wrapped his arms around you, attempting to convey all his feelings for you in a simple kiss. All the longing, the love, the desire, the friendship. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say, he poured into that kiss. And you smiled, accepting all his confessions, all his words.

“Well, it was about time, don’t you two think?” Alfred said from across the room.

You jumped and just stared at him, embarrassment overtaking you.

“Yes, I’m talking about you two. Do you know how bothersome it was to see you moping around and sulking because you hadn’t kissed her on Christmas Eve, sir?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I – You wanted to kiss me on Christmas Eve?” you turned to Bruce and gave him a soft smile.

“I did. I really did. I’m so sorry I didn’t.” he replied, before looking at Alfred. “Could you please leave us alone now? I don’t really recall paying you to mind my business.”

“You don’t pay me enough not to, sir.” The butler replied with a cheeky grin and that “I have the high ground, for I am British and old and wise” smug look of his. “I am glad to see the both of you are finally getting along. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the Manor, since no one in this house does it.”

You laughed and faced Bruce once again, cupping his cheek.

“I thought you didn’t even like me. I mean, on Christmas…”

“I’m sorry about Christmas. I really did want to kiss you, it’s just… There are things about me – things you don’t know. And I’m afraid of telling you because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He replied, hand coming up to touch yours.

“You can tell me anything Bruce, you know it. Right?”

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

“I do. And I love you. I really mean it.”

Bruce could hear the smile in your voice when you replied.

“I love you too.”

For once in his life, Bruce Wayne did not feel completely alone. On the next room, he had his trusted butler, who had raised him as his own and acted like a parental figure all these years. And in his arms, he had you. The love of his life, the woman he loved the most in the world.

Holding you close to him, he knew he could trust you, no matter what. He knew you’d accept him, because if anyone would, it was you. And he would cherish that forever.

Later that night, a small white box was taken out of a locked drawer and placed inside of his pocket.

Bruce led you to the same spot you’d been on Christmas Eve, handed you the small box, and after carefully placing the necklace around your neck, finally kissed you.

There was no way he was ever letting go of you.

A/N: And that's it! I hope I was able to do both this trilogy and this request justice, I was really worried about it. I wrote most of it in one sitting, you have no idea, I just kept on writing and writing and writing and when I realised it, it'd gotten kinda long and out of hand.

I also hope this Tom character wasn't useless? I mean, he sorta was, he was just a plot device, but I hope he didn't feel rushed or whatever.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I really do!

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

THE DARK KNIGHT FANFIC: Joker x OC (Part 1)

“Gotham University is blessed to have girls like you in attendance, Lottie Wayne," Mrs Herbert said, smiling sadly at the petite girl standing in front of her desk. "You're the only girl I know will certainly give me a straight answer about this tragic subject."

     Lottie fiddled with her uniform's skirt, trying to hide her irritation. "You mean the murder of Susan, correct?" 

     Mrs. Herbert nodded. "What do you remember about the fifteenth of September?" The administrator leaned forward in her chair, staring Lottie directly in the eyes.

     "I remember passing Susan in the hall, after Mr. Wilson's class. She was talking with her boyfriend. He seemed upset. I only saw her one time after that, in the women's restroom, braiding her hair." Lottie pretended to recollect. 

     "Nothing else?" Mrs. Herbert pressed, adjusting her blue framed cat-eye glasses.

     Lottie sighed. Her patience was wearing thin. "No. Nothing else." She forced a smile.

     "Were you friends with Susan? I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business, but I'm worried whoever was out to get Susan might be after her friends too, and if so I'd be required to make your parents aware of the potentially dangerous situation."

     Lottie paused, briefly remembering the way Susan had picked on her for having braces in college. "We were very close," Lottie lied, her doll-like dark eyes welling up with tears. 

     "Alright then, I'll make a call to your parents and let them know you'll be heading home and will not be attending college until the police find Susan's killer. Even education isn't worth risking your life."

     Lottie nodded, wiping the tears trickling down her cheek. "You're absolutely right." And with that she left the room and (once far enough from Mrs. Herbert) she started giggling uncontrollably, her long dark auburn ringlets bouncing as she skipped down the hall. Lottie turned the corner and ran straight into Maya Gardner, causing Maya to clumsily drop her books. 

     "Hey!" Maya yelped. 

     "OH! I'm sorry!" Lottie apologized. Maya was the closest thing she had to a friend. "Here, let me help you pick those books up."

     "Thanks," Maya said warmly, getting over her initial shock. She knelt down to grab the same book as Lottie, but grabbed Lottie's wrist instead, pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear. "I know what you did." Maya breathed.

     Lottie's eyes widened. "What?" There was no way. She had been SO careful not to leave any evidence of her crimes.

     "Shhh. Someone will hear you!" Maya whispered urgently. "I know what you did," she repeated, "but I want to know how you did it. I want in. Next time, you don't handle it alone."

     Lottie picked up the book and handed it to her. "No, Maya, we've been through this. Remember last time? I know you're good at keeping your mouth shut, but I need more than that. I need someone skilled."

     Maya stood up, shaking her head. "But I am good, I swear."

     Lottie stood up, and grabbed Maya's arm, dragging her down the hall, up two flights of stairs and into her dorm room, a place more private for their conversation. "You're good, but your skills are niche." Lottie sighed. "If I ever need to hack a security system, you bet you'd be the first person I'd call."

     "But-"

     "-Look, in any other scenario, I work alone. You hear me?" Lottie said shortly.

     "But you didn't this last time, did you? Someone helped you kill Susan, and I wanna know who it is." Maya said, unmistakable jealousy in her voice. "You can talk all day about working alone but September fifteenth was different." 

     Lottie looked away. Maya could read her so well. Maybe she would be useful someday. Better to have her on her side than against her.

     "Was it your boyfriend?" Maya said angrily.

     Lottie blushed. "That's assuming a lot, considering you've never met him."

     "Well, I'm not wrong though, am I?" she huffed.

     "Fine, ok? I mean, I hate having to hide shit like this all the time. Can't I kill a bitch without everyone being so nosy?" 

     "Do you love him?" Maya asked.

     "Absolutely." Lottie said, then laughed, hearing how silly that sounded.

    "-What?!"

     "-Not." Lottie quickly added, assessing the downsides of pissing off Maya Gardner.

     Maya sighed in relief. "Ok, good. You scared me there for a second. You met the guy last week. As a friend I should hope that you wouldn't fall that fast. Especially falling for a criminal."

     "Remind me why I tell you anything?" Lottie grumbled.

     Maya grinned a toothy grin. "Cause I'm cute, and absolutely irresistable." She flopped on her side on Lottie's bed. 

     "And it's a good thing too, cause if you weren't I'd slit your throat and you'd be rotting in the commons room like Susan." Lottie said, winking. The two girls giggled, and Maya tossed a pillow at Lottie.

#batman fanfiction #joker x oc #joker #the dark knight #fanfic #nolanverse #Batman #joker x reader #fan fiction #Batman fanfic #the dark knight fanfic #gotham

[arianaofimladris]

For not writing this year's Whumptober and not writing to a random fandom, I'm doing so far great job of steady 2k a week 😅😅😅

"Why do we fall? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up."

But sometimes the fall is too hard and you need help. Batman falls, Bruce Wayne thinks he failed. Alfred is there for him.

Story set directly after the events of The Dark Knight, with Batman deciding to take the blame for Dent's deeds.

#whumptober 2023 #Batman #Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne whump #The Dark knight #The Dark knight fanfic #Alfred Pennyworth

[prettyyoungandbored]

I know your requests are closed but for when you have them open up can you please write a part two to this? I loved it and only just found it!

https://www.tumblr.com/prettyyoungandbored/693080581256462336/can-you-please-write-some-more-christian

Here’s to you, to everyone who gave the one shot some love, and to the movie’s 15th anniversary.

Pregnant [Bale!Bruce Wayne]: Part 2

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Takes place after the events of “The Dark Knight” so major spoilers.

Sequel to this story

NOT MY GIF

ONE YEAR LATER

Y/N opened her eyes, welcomed by the soft touch of moonlight peering through the bedroom window.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Bruce’s side of the bed empty and still untouched, indicating he had yet to come to bed.

She wasn’t surprised nor concerned, having spent years dealing with his Batman patrol. Even after Bruce gave up being the masked crusader and the two settled into Wayne Manor, there were some nights he spent wide awake.

Realizing she wouldn’t get some sleep for a bite, she threw off the covers and padded quietly down the hall into her baby’s nursery.

Damian Wayne was born in August and quickly became the apple of his parent’s eyes. He was the perfect blend of Bruce and Y/N and the happiest baby in the world.

The glow of the nightlight from inside the nursery peered into the hallway, indicating the door was open and that Bruce was more than likely in there. Sure enough, that’s where she found him. He sat in the rocking chair, cradling their sleeping baby boy in his arms.

“Look at my favorite guys,” Y/N cooed quietly. “Was he crying earlier?”

Bruce nodded, giving her a small smile. “I was up anyway. Figured I’d let you rest.”

She took a seat on the foot stool facing the chair, admiring the view in front of her. “I love seeing you with him. It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

“I could say the same about you,” Bruce remarked. “I love watching you walk around the manor holding him.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes met his. Even after all this time, his gaze made her melt into a puddle.

“Remember when I told you I was pregnant?” she brought up. “How terrified I was?”

Bruce’s chuckled. “It was the greatest thing you’d ever said to me. Besides, of course, ‘I do.’”

The memory played out in her head. “I spent the whole night fighting the urge to put my hand on my stomach. I didn’t want anyone to know.” She paused. “By the time I was about to tell Rachel, you threw me into a closet.”

He let out a small laugh. “I threw you into a closet to save your life.”

“Yes you did. Saved both of our lives.”

Bruce’s smile faded softly as he shifted their focus to their son.

Y/N avoided bringing up his Batman days, knowing that the end of it nearly killed him. It took him a long time to come back from it, and even then he still wasn’t fully back.

“You…” her voice trailed off

His eyes met hers. “What?”

“You’re still my hero. Despite everything, you are and always will be. Bruce Wayne was my hero before I knew about Batman.” She paused. “And as far as Damian is concerned, you’ll always be his.”

The soft gaze on his face nearly broke her. It was as if he’d waited a lifetime for someone to say that to him. His attention shifted to Damian.

“When you told me you were pregnant, I knew right then and there it all had to end,” he said. “My father spent more time fighting for the city and while he was present for me and my mother, it still was his biggest concern. I wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not with what happened to them.”

His eyes met hers. “I will always regret the way it ended. Always. It will haunt me for as long as I live. But walking away will never be something I regret. If it keeps my family safe, that’s all that matters.”

Y/N pulled back her lips, fighting the tears that pooled in her eyes. She knew he didn’t want to end it the way he did. Not when it cost two lives.

“Has it really been a year?” Y/N spoke up, a slight tremble in her voice.

Rachel’s death plagued the couple enough that by the time the one year anniversary had come, they were all cried out. Still, it hung over them throughout the day. The couple made a silent agreement to avoid acknowledging it.

That was until now.

“It has,” Bruce answered. “Still feels like yesterday.”

Y/N exhaled. “I think about her every single day.”

He reached his hand over, giving hers a squeeze as if to say he did too. He still couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he found other ways to express it that Y/N understood.

“Thank you,” he said. “Without you, I don’t think I would’ve survived.”

She squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t have survived without you either.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

#bruce wayne × reader #Batman #bruce wayne imagine #Batman fanfic #christian bale × reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne fluff #the dark knight #bale!batman

[okayigetitifuckedup]

New Chapter of Sour Candies!

#batman fanfiction #harley quinn #joker #the dark knight #batman #batman begins #tdk #the dark knight trilogy #be nice to me #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 link #dark fic #dark romance #the dark knight fanfic #horror romance #horror fanfiction #romance fanfiction #smut

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 4: Enough

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

CW: dark themes - no graphic depictions* but non-con, sa, domestic violence, suicidal ideations *read at your own discretion*

word count: 3.5k

[<<< chapter 3]

“Hen..” Johnny turns to walk backwards, looking at you with a lopsided smile before you see his eyes cast up and to the right- lids narrowing for a split second, but the expression passes as he continues, “It’s swelterin’ out today, what’s with the fashion choice, eh?”

It had been a terribly, unseasonably, hot day- the sun was bright and oppressive as you walked through the hedges. You can feel the individual pearls of sweat beading off your skin under the high collar, your teeth clenching at the way they trickled down between your shoulder blades and collected in your cleavage-

And may all the gods damn this forsaken corset..

You don’t say that, though you sorely wish you could. No, instead, you fan yourself; fighting vainly to keep your breaths measured and at a normal pace.

But that’s incredibly hard to do when your lungs can only expand as far as the rigid boning that lines your torso would allow.

Your handmaid, Elia, had fallen ill late last night, and her temporary replacement seems to have a grudge against breathing, apparently..

“It is supposed to be autumn-”, you mutter back, gratefully taking his arm when he returns to your side, “not bloody summer.”

“My, my.. Do they teach ya how to speak like that at Queen school, Your Grace?”

He belts out that wonderful, smooth laugh at his own awful joke- nudging into you when you give more of a strained huff than the actual chuckle you’d been going for.

This would be his last day here. The week had gone by so quick, far too quick; the days had felt like the usual whirlwind and calamity that is your life, though you admit that as soon as the King left the castle walls, you were quick to reschedule nearly every event that you could manage. Not wanting to miss any more time with Johnny than you absolutely had to-

Then there’s Simon.. Wasn’t it also a week ago since the night in the hedges? Oh- right here, actually! How painfully convenient-

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the thought, recognizing the specific spot you had been with him- fight the urge to wonder desperately if he feels the same turmoil over what occurred.

Nothing had changed between you, well, nothing outwardly, anyway. Internally? You were confused, and ashamed, so fearful, and yet, every time you let your mind recount how sinfully good it felt- to have him so close, to have his lips caress your skin, and that deep, brassy voice reverberate through your ears- you feel that awful, terrible ache for him grow even more.

“Earth to Sunny…”

You look up too fast, or maybe it wasn’t even that fast; but the moment your head tilts toward his voice, and the sun bears down on your face, you see a flurry of black stars dance across your vision, thickening until there’s nothing at all. No more light, no heat, no heaviness, no restriction around your lungs- just pure, blissful nothing.

”Mm.. My Queen..”

Warm lips press a long kiss behind your ear, his voice silky and muffled as he speaks- calloused hands roam your body, they leave the most delectable chills in their wake. Your skin impossibly hot and cold at the same time-

“I’m not your queen anymore, Simon. Remember?”

He moves to hover over you, his mouth never leaving your skin as it traces every curve, and slope, and freckle with the softest kisses you’re sure you’ve ever felt. The sensation of them is more like a feather being dragged over your flesh, slow, every delightful stroke made with purpose, intention.

And when he chuckles, you can't help but to suck in a sharp gasp at how his breath tickles the skin of your tummy, how it seems to fan out, warming something much, much deeper inside you-

“Love.. You’ll always be my queen. Or, do you not remember the first time I kneeled before you? The oath I took- my fealty sworn to you, and you alone, for as long as I live.”

The image of Simon kneeling at your feet makes you squirm under him; recalling vividly how large and menacing he was even in such a vulnerable position, how he had looked up at you under his brow- molten amber irises practically dancing in the light, so full of guile and adoration, even then.

A shrill noise parts your lips when he hoists your thighs over his shoulders, your heart racing, blood rushing to your cheeks and neck as you dare to look down at him-

And you know the minute you meet his eyes, see the intensity behind them, even with the rest of his face obscured as he nuzzles further against your cunt, that it would be your undoing.

How would anyone, or anything, ever compare?

Certainly not your King- no, not yours anymore. Wait.. is that right?

The thought disappears just as quickly as it had come, the pain of it replaced by the reverent worship of Simon’s tongue-

You’re slammed back into reality by a rush of cool water streaming over your face- it feels heavenly, since you now also feel that ungodly heat wrapping around you again, your senses slowly coming back into focus-

The earthy, sweet smell of the garden filling your nose, the feel of the water evaporating from your skin, the dry taste that coats your tongue, and urgent voices resounding in your ear.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus..”

“My Queen?”

You’re gently shaken, large hands holding your face- but it’s your name spoken in that voice you’ve dreamed about, so deep and laced with concern, with worry, that settles heavily in your heart, bringing you even further into the moment. And you so badly want to reach for it, for him-

But when you try to raise your hand, it feels like lifting iron chains, your energy thoroughly depleted; you move to sit up anyway, needing to fix this- whatever this was.

“W-what.. What is it?”

Gods, it even feels impossible to speak- but, finally, it seems your eyes have decided to work again, even if the view before you is blurred and hazy at first. You blink away the remaining starbursts, seeing two imposing silhouettes perched over you-

“Grianach..”

It’s when your gaze meets Johnny’s, your brain able to register the horror, the anguish- that you scramble to clutch at your throat.

Oh no.. no, no, no-

In their efforts to relieve you of your many insulating layers, it seems they cut the laces of your corset, and ripped the collar of your gown apart at the seams-

The high collar that you insisted on to cover the angry purplish bruises that currently wrap around your neck, the outline of a hand turning green and yellow with age. There were other bruises in much the same state on your arm and your thigh, and you thank the gods that those could not be so easily seen- because the murderous gleam in Simon and Johnny’s eyes is scary enough.

What would they do if they saw the rest…

You order them to help you up, dismissing their reservations as you simultaneously plead for them to call no one else-

“This is.. embarrassing enough. I do not wish for anyone else to see me, there are too many rumors and baseless speculation as it is-”

Simon is close again, right there supporting your weight, his body tense and ready for anything- but his eyes..

A shiver wracks through you as the image of those same eyes settling between your thighs flits through your mind; a motion they both mistake for the start of another fainting spell, judging by the way they grip you a little tighter- Johnny’s hand at your waist in an instant,

“Let me fetch the physician-”

“No.”

“Sunny..”

Looking between them, between cobalt blue and rich copper, between the man you’ve known your entire life, and the one that has somehow upended everything you thought you knew, your knees feel weak again.

“Please- Just.. Take me to my chambers.”

Simon moves immediately, leaving Johnny no choice but to follow as the towering man leads you through the hedge- but he doesn’t go towards the usual entrance you should be taking. You follow his long strides to a shadowed alcove, one you never would look twice at; but, to your surprise, when he pushes against an odd section of wall, it opens.

Johnny casts you a sidelong glance, and you wish you had an answer for him- hells, you wish you had an answer at all. It shouldn’t be surprising there are secret and hidden passageways within the castle, you suppose you’re just surprised you were never made aware of them. Especially since the corridor he chooses takes you directly to your rooms-

Your mouth opens the moment he closes the three of you in, a demand already on your tongue to know exactly how Simon knew about this, but all coherent thought turns to mush when he turns on you, pulling the black glove from his hand,

“Did he do this to you?”

The feel of his bare fingers on your skin sends your entire body reeling, unable, or maybe just unwilling, to pull away from his touch, even when you see Johnny’s eyebrows furrow in equal parts confusion and anger.

“Yes.”

“The King?” Johnny nearly choke on his own words, running a hand through his mess of hair as he watches Simon back away.

“It’s not-” You start, but you don’t have a justification, or an excuse, just the horrific memory of how angry your King had been, how he stormed into your room after the feast- his breath so laden with the smell of wine that it made your stomach queasy.

He took you that night before he left, by force. Pinned you down, and hissed the most obscene and vile things in your ear, his hands marking you for everyone to see; but you think it was mostly for his own depraved pleasure-

”Tell me about this Lord of yours- hm?” “Dancing with him like some common whore- you’re a fucking embarrassment to my crown-” “Well, since you want to act like one, I’ll show you exactly how I treat my harlots.”

As much as you tried to reassure him, he wouldn’t listen, didn’t want to hear what you had to say; and it was too easy for him to silence you with a strong grip around your neck-

You feel the hot tears threaten to spill at the memory, but you won’t, you refuse to let them fall- you refuse to shed one more single fucking tear for that monster, and certainly not right now.

So, you swallow the agonizing lump in your throat, pinning the men in front of you with a determined glare, “This shall not leave this room, am I clear?”

Johnny steps forward, “What?”

You raise your hand to stop him, holding your ground, “It isn’t a suggestion. It is a command-”, your feet move on autopilot, crossing the distance to the spacious washroom.

“But, Sunny.. You can’t let him get away with this! What else is there, huh? How else has he hurt-” Simon moves to cut him off, a strong arm reaching out to hold the Scot back, “Get your hands off me.”

They stand toe to toe, Simon’s eyes practically burning a hole through Johnny, the shorter man giving it back just as severely,

“Enough..” You sigh, moving quickly to push yourself between them, an open palm placed over their chests- Johnny’s, solid and warm, the muscle underneath heaving with every breath, and Simons.. The obsidian steel, cold and unforgiving, but it’s impossible to miss how his breathing is just as labored.

He’s just as livid-

“Please..”

At the same time, they relax under your touch, the sound of your plea softening both of their hearts for a moment- long enough to hear out, at least.

“Come back with me.” Johnny says, his voice so strong and steady that you swear you could feel the conviction behind the simple statement-

You shake your head, stepping from between them, “You know I can’t. That’s my home, our home, which you stand to inherit. The King would-“

Yes.. What would the great and benevolent ruler do? Would he make up a reason to attack your beloved homeland, to round up your family and have them executed? Would he make you watch Johnny’s head roll before casting your own off with it? He had already shown you a taste of how far his jealousy could go, how truly malicious and cruel he was willing to be when you angered him- and that only seemed to be happening more as of late.

“I will not go. I will not endanger your-” He tries to speak again, and you can see the flush of anger color his cheeks, his bright eyes so dark now, so full of turmoil, rage, “I WILL NOT.. endanger your life, or the lives of any of my people, Johnny..”

“Then I’ll take ya somehwere they won’t find us! Somewhere, where we’re nobodies, not a lord, or a queen- somewhere our names won’t matter. We’ll pick new ones, and it’ll be just us, just like it used to be, Grianach-”

A series of knocks at the doors throws the room into an eerie silence, agitation still hanging thick and heavy in the air around you as you look to Simon with a small nod; watching him cross the space and walk out of sight; your ears straining to hear who has come to seek you out, eyes staying glued to the wall, waiting to see him round it once again-

Johnny’s voice is sudden and low in your ear, so close it almost startles you as he speaks in your native tongue, or well, the bastardized slang you had always spoken to each other as children, ”Do you trust him?”

You turn to look up at him, eyebrows furrowed and your tone just as low, ”Yes, I do.”

There’s a moment when he seems to question your answer, question how little hesitation there was behind it- his eyes dancing over your face before darting up and back down to you just as quick,

”Bring him, then. Would that make you say ‘yes’?”

A familiar sequence of taps causes you to look back towards the entryway, where Simon stands as casual as ever, hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he looks between you and Johnny,

“Lord MacTavish’s horse has been prepared, along with his things, as previously requested-”

“Well, tell ‘em to take him back to stable, ‘m not leavin’.” Johnny spits back with a venom you’re not you’ve ever heard from the man.

But Simon, characteristically, is entirely unfazed by the outlash, looking back through his helmet, his expression almost comically bored.

“I answer to the Queen.” He hums out, eyes now on you in a way that feels far too personal, too intimate, as he moves forward with slow steps, “Not you.”

No.. No. I can’t do this- not here, not again. I don’t even know what this is, but it’s too much.

“All right, both of you- out.” You seethe, your hands clenching and unclenching as you all but shove Johnny back to the secret entrance- because the last thing you needed was for one the King’s many eyes in the castle to see him departing from your chambers.

He doesn’t try to stop you, but he does beg once again, softly, quietly- a plea for which you don’t have an answer to, not right now anyway. What he wants is impossible and improbable, it would never work. Right? Right.

There is no way out of this for you- there never really was.

“Later, Johnny. When we’ve calmed down and had time to think. I need to dress, now, go. I swear, I will find you.”

You watch him go, watch him spare one last glance before disappearing into the damp shadows of the tunnel, leaving you alone yet again with your Ghost. And that same, awful ache that never seems to leave you, makes itself apparent at the thought- your reeling mind certainly not helping to quell it by any means.

“You, too.” You say, squaring your shoulders and steeling yourself to face him, “I just need-”

When you do finally look up, your stride falters- seeing him already looking at you, his hand reaching for yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do- but, at the last second, he stops himself. His long fingers curling into a fist as they fall back in place at his side, and you don’t know why his restraint only serves to enthrall you more.

“I understand, My Queen..”

You want to scream and cry as you watch him slip his glove back on, covering the pale, scarred skin again-

“Si- Ser.. I’m sorry-”

“No.” He cuts you off gently, his voice warm and kind as he turns into you fully, “You have nothin’ to apologize for.. Not a single thing.”

Gods, why does he have to make it so difficult to be in his presence? Just standing here with him, his frame dwarfing your own, tall and broad, so immovable, so powerful; and yet, he somehow manages to make you feel like you’re the one looking down at him, like a deity gazing down on their devout disciple; like just allowing him the grace of your time and attention is what he lives for-

That is absurd.. And blasphemous. What is wrong with me.. It’s just a silly infatuation that I’ve aggrandized, that I’ve made more important than it is, obviously. I don’t know any better, anyway. This could be a ruse, and I wouldn’t know it, only ever having been with one boorish man; they could all be like that, Simon included-

“I’ll be at my post, Your Grace.” His voice is closer to normal now, not low and rich, spoken like it’s only meant for your ears-

All you can manage is a lame nod, turning away as he leaves because you know you couldn’t bear to see him go. Instead, you busy yourself finding another dress to cover your neck before calling in the handmaids for help.

Yes, busy, that usually tends to ward off the wayward and errant musings, the fantasies of what can never be- you’ll hone your focus on the mundane, on the way this new dress is softer than the last, the dark green velvet hugging you tenderly. Focus on the pinch of the corset, your eyes glancing at the wardrobe where you know the mutilated one now resides.

You simply won’t think about him. Or Johnny, and his preposterous proposal-

Oh, your sweet Johnny.. still ever the bleeding heart he is. You’ll send him back home with grand gifts, and hope he finds the letter you wrote for his eyes only, hope he can move on, and forget what he regrettably had to witness.

It will be ok. You’ll make sure he’s taken care of, that he won’t be cast into an unsavory light, or blamed.

Not when you’re so painfully aware that he’s the only wonderfully bright light you had been blessed with in so long, and gods forbid it’s your fault that his light is snuffed out-

The mirror catches your eye, reflecting someone so different back to you now. Different from a few short months ago, different from just a week ago, an hour ago, even. And while you don’t know if you particularly care for the woman you see, you know she is necessary for what’s to come.

It will be ok.

Simon stands guard at her door, unwavering and vigilant- but his mind races.

How could this have happened to his Queen, on his watch no less, how could he have allowed that monster to enter her chambers?

To hurt her.. defile her- his Queen. He swore his life to protect her, but he never imagined the one she needed saving from would be his own sovereign.

No matter. Because at the end of the day, the King is just a man; mortal, made of flesh and blood, a beating heart that can so easily be pierced by a sharp blade. A soft, squishy neck just made for cleaving-

And he doesn’t know this cousin of hers, doesn’t know what kind of lord he is, but she seems to trust him implicitly- they seem close in ways he can quite grasp. But, perhaps he’s on to something, Simon could get her away from here, away from this hellish place that drains her more and more, every waking moment.

He would take care of her, it would be so easy to make them both disappear.. they already called him ‘Ghost’, why not live up to the idea the mindless drones of court already have of him?

Hm.. Ghost-

The name rolls around on his tongue, Simon Riley has been called many things in his life, but none of them ever sounded so fitting.

[chapter 5>>>]

#knight!ghost #queen!reader #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #lord mactavish #cod fandom #call of duty #cod mw2 #also on ao3 #ao3 #simon riley x reader #dark aesthetic #medieval au #cod medieval au #cod fanfic #thank you for sharing your time #you have my heart