zoruxsblog

[zoruxsblog]

What Makes a Woman?

Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Summary: Bruce learns some things from living with a woman for the first time.

Notes: talks about periods, so it is an afab reader. Fluff, slight NSFW, teeny bit of angst and brief mention of violence. This is post Dick, pre Jason because I like that age range for Bruce. But Dick doesn't actually make an appearance. Just making fun of Bruce and his rich bachelor boy ways. Bruce drinks his respect women juice every morning for breakfast.

Masterlist

Bruce, for all his worldly experience, has never lived with a woman. Sure, he's brought plenty of them home for a night, probably even vacationed with them, but that's different. Any woman could tell you that it's different. Any person who's lived with a woman could tell you that. But Bruce didn't know that, because he's never lived with a woman before.

This thought had never occurred to you until now. Why would it? You're not oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend is a rich playboy. You know he's experienced when it comes to women - in other realms. Not to mention he's also a father, there being plenty of unique situations that go along with that title. You know he's lived with wealth, you also know he's lived in the desert and most likely a multitude of other foreign places he hasn't told you about yet. Which is why you're staring at him blank faced right now. Because due to all of this, not once had it crossed your mind that one situation Bruce Wayne was not experienced in, was living with women. Such a simple, mundane thing that you had to laugh.

"What?" Bruce is giving you an adorable offended look, which only makes you snicker more. Clearly, his inexperience in this field is something that never crossed his mind either.

"Nothing," you soothe, "it's just, well, it's part of living with a woman, Bruce. We have a lot of hair. Have you ever owned a dog?"

"You're making fun of me, I can tell." His voice is serious but his eyebrows are raised playfully.

"No! I'm just warning you now, so that you aren't alarmed when you start finding it in your ass crack."

Bruce laughs out loud and turns away, leaving you to your business.

"I know how much you appreciate being prepared," you call after him. You can hear that he's still chuckling to himself.

"You are right about that," he replies. "And now I definitely am, thank you."

You smile to yourself, still laughing, and go back to what you were doing before Bruce came in and started questioning you. You're sitting on the floor next to the shower, pulling hair out of the drain. Judging by his concerned and slightly disgusted face when he walked in, Bruce did not in a million years expect to see his partner pulling a wad of hair and gunk out of his shower.

"Why don't you ask Alfred to pour something down and clear it out?"

"Do you see how thick this is?" You held up a chunk of hair. Bruce winced. "It's not going to dissolve that easily. Besides, I wanna take a shower now. It's clogging up the drain and I don't wanna stand in a lake."

"That's what's been clogging the drain? I thought there was a problem with the plumbing," the disgust is renewed on his face.

"You didn't think to look?"

"Why would I? I was just going to call someone to fix it."

"Oh my god."

That's when realization dawned on you. Bruce didn't have sisters, he's never had a serious girlfriend before you, he hasn't even lived with his mom since he was eight. It's been him, Alfred, and Dick. In fact, now that you think about it, both Alfred and Dick have lived longer with a woman than Bruce. The idea that a wad of girl hair could truly catch Batman off guard and also bring a look of revulsion to his face admittedly delighted you. What else could you surprise him with?

...

"What is this?" Bruce's voice reaches you from the bedroom. You're in the closet, deciding what to wear for the day.

"What is what?" You call back.

Out the corner of your eye, you see him approach and lean against the door frame. He's smirking - usually a bad sign. Bruce holds up a notebook. It's your period tracking journal. You tell him as much.

"I can see that," he continues, "but what is this." He holds the book open and points to a specific entry. Your face reddens and you snatch the book away from him.

"Have you ever heard of privacy?"

But his smirk only grows into a full grin. "You log our sex?"

"You're supposed to," you defend. "I log almost all of my activity, Bruce. It's for accuracy."

"Ohhh, accuracy. Okay." He walks towards you. "Don't worry, I know all about the scientific method. For accuracy, I'm sure you also must detail exactly which positions we used, how long it lasted, results-"

"Oh my god, stop!"

He laughs, enjoying himself way too much as he tries to grab the journal back from you.

"Do you also track satisfaction?"

You stumble towards the bed and Bruce encourages your fall by pushing you on your back and leaning over you.

"No, I don't do any of that," you pointedly say.

He frowns. "What's the point of a scientific study if no one reads your results to learn from them?"

You roll your eyes. Nevermind, you think, you don't like Bruce finding out about your womanly habits. "You're a child," you say.

Bruce smirks and kisses you. "Care to add an entry?"

...

Thud.

"Who taught you how to do that?" Bruce grunts, lying on the mat and looking up at you, confusion lacing his expression. You'd be lying if you said you didn't also notice a hint of awe, but you don’t want to get too full of yourself.

He dragged you to the cave, insisting on the importance of knowing some basic self defense. "Gotham is a dangerous city, Y/n. Especially for women." You threw him to the ground.

Of course, he'd been going easy on you to let you do such a thing, but the fact that you even knew the action is what surprised him.

"I've taken self defense classes before, Bruce" you say, giving him a hand back up.

"Why didn't I know that?" He sounds offended.

You laugh. "I don't know. I just forget to tell you, I guess."

That excuse doesn't seem to satisfy him.

"When you were a kid?"

"No, as an adult."

"What made you do that?"

You could roll your eyes at his seemingly oblivious question, but there's clearly concern in his voice.

"Just like you said, I'm a woman living in Gotham. And before I met you, I was living alone. Not that Gotham is particularly safe for anybody. But a lot of women take self defense classes, no matter where they live."

"Oh. Of course."

You were right about the concern. His demeanor shifts to something you might call disappointment. Disappointment in humanity, not you.

"Trust me, Bruce. I'm well aware of the problem. I was raised to be aware."

"I should've- " He stops mid sentence, not sure what to say. You can tell he's beating himself up for assuming you didn't already know the dangers to your own sex.

"Thank you," you stop him before he makes himself too guilty, "for the concern. I appreciate it. But... since I've already done this," you gesture to the mat, "does that mean I can go back to my book now?" You add hopefully.

"No. It just means you're more advanced than I thought. We'll start with something harder."

You scowl. You should've known better.

...

A feeling of endearment washes over you, as you read the Daily Gotham article on your phone. No, it's more than just endearment. It's infatuation. Your heart swells with pride. That's my man, you think.

Curled on the couch, you came across an article on "Bruce Wayne's latest political statement." Commenting on politics isn't something you know Bruce to be interested in. So out of curiosity, you click on it. Turns out, a reporter had caught him alone and asked for his opinion of the latest candidate running for mayor. Bruce was not shy to share what he thought of the sexist old creep.

"But am I right in saying that you yourself have had quite a few of your own lady friends, if you know what I mean?"

You mocked a gag at the reporter’s gross question.

"I think if you look back on those tabloid pieces, you'll find that while that might be true, they were all born in the same decade as me."

The article continued to quote Bruce's disdain for all the other ways the new candidate had mistreated women.

"A man like that won't be receiving any support from me."

"What are you smiling at?" Bruce appeared in front of you, startling you, as he was known to do. Damn him. But you just smiled more and closed your phone.

"Nothing. Come here."

Without hesitation, he sat next to you and pulled you closer to himself. Easily snuggling into his side, you planted a kiss on his jaw.

"I just love you. You're a good person," you said.

He might've been confused, but he certainly wasn't going to question it.

"I love you too."

@theastrokat @millyhelp @the-midnight-duck @obsessednerdymoon @evalynanne @akirashindou @amonett

[zoruxsblog]

GIRL I NEED A DICK ANALYSIS FOR MY OLD MAN BRUCE!!

🙏🙏

DID I NOT DO THIS?? Shame.

SHAME.

Anyway.

BRUCE WAYNE 💦

So not to be weird about the "like father, like son" thing when talking about men's dicks, but...seriously. If Damian Wayne's cock is perfect, Bruce Wayne's cock is the holy grail.

Now, the best part about Bruce Wayne isn't his cock itself, but how he uses it in conjunction with the rest of him. Stay with me now: he's buried to the hilt inside you, fingers on your clit. Because he's not a stranger to manual labor, fistfights, etc., the texture of his hands is just a little extra stimulation for you.

He's watching you, reading you, perceiving you. He knows the right speed, the right amount of pressure; it's like he's in your head when it comes to your pleasure, delivering exactly what you need, when you need it, sometimes before you even know you need it.

Now, imagine him whispering about how good your feel. Thrusting, teasing, pulling the most incredible waves of pleasure our of you—and he's thanking you for how perfect you feel wrapped around his cock. You look so beautiful. You feel so right. You're made for him, and he doesn't ever want to let you go.

You're safe with him. He'll take care of you. Just make some pretty noises for him, okay? 🖤

[zoruxsblog]

GIRL I NEED A DICK ANALYSIS FOR MY OLD MAN BRUCE!!

🙏🙏

DID I NOT DO THIS?? Shame.

SHAME.

Anyway.

BRUCE WAYNE 💦

So not to be weird about the "like father, like son" thing when talking about men's dicks, but...seriously. If Damian Wayne's cock is perfect, Bruce Wayne's cock is the holy grail.

Now, the best part about Bruce Wayne isn't his cock itself, but how he uses it in conjunction with the rest of him. Stay with me now: he's buried to the hilt inside you, fingers on your clit. Because he's not a stranger to manual labor, fistfights, etc., the texture of his hands is just a little extra stimulation for you.

He's watching you, reading you, perceiving you. He knows the right speed, the right amount of pressure; it's like he's in your head when it comes to your pleasure, delivering exactly what you need, when you need it, sometimes before you even know you need it.

Now, imagine him whispering about how good your feel. Thrusting, teasing, pulling the most incredible waves of pleasure our of you—and he's thanking you for how perfect you feel wrapped around his cock. You look so beautiful. You feel so right. You're made for him, and he doesn't ever want to let you go.

You're safe with him. He'll take care of you. Just make some pretty noises for him, okay? 🖤

[zoruxsblog]

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

[zoruxsblog]

Black Mercy

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader (Justice League Unlimited!Bruce)

Summary: When you and Bruce find Superman in the Fortress of Solitude, you encounter the Black Mercy. Bruce faces his heart's greatest desire, and you encourage him to find happiness.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for Justice League Unlimited 1x2 "For the Man Who Has Everything", fluff, canon-level violence and action

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

A/N: I'll say it again... this show is elite. I'll never shut up about the characterizations of Batman, Superman, and the Flash! But, also, his bat ears.

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info

“J’onn, when did Superman check in last?” you inquire.

J’onn clicks the trackpad before him. The Watchtower has the most advanced technology of any place you’ve ever seen, yet J’onn has to navigate to the most recent communication reports to learn when he last heard Clark’s voice.

“Several hours,” J’onn answers with a frown. “He traveled to his Fortress of Solitude to investigate a disturbance but hasn’t reported since he arrived.”

“I’ll try to contact him,” you tell J’onn.

Bruce thought of everything when he designed and funded the Watchtower, and you navigate to your favorite private area. You occasionally wonder if he created such spots for people like you, the unpowered or easily overwhelmed. The Watchtower is big enough that you could go an entire day without seeing another member of the League; now, you crave that privacy to check on your friend.

“Superman, come in,” you say into your small radio. “Hello? … Clark?”

The only response you get is a distant static. You bounce the radio between your hands and frown. Clark can handle himself, of course, but he’s also good about staying in touch. The hidden door beside you creaks open slowly before Bruce steps inside.

“I thought you may be here,” he murmurs. When he turns to face you, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Clark isn’t checking in. J’onn hasn’t heard from him in hours, and I can’t reach him on comms,” you answer.

“Where is he?”

“Fortress of Solitude.”

“Then let’s go.”

You smile and take Bruce’s hand as he helps you to stand. He leads you through the empty hallways of the Watchtower, and you hope that when you get to Superman's hideout, it's just radio interference and nothing more. He steps onto the launch bay and presses a button on his utility belt to open the canopy of the batplane.

“Can I fly?” you ask.

“No,” Bruce answers.

He flies in relative silence, and it isn’t until he steers the plane into the freezing water surrounding the Fortress of Solitude that you decide to speak.

“That was a nice turn,” you compliment. “You usually scare me when you fly.”

“Sorry,” Bruce replies shortly.

He levels the plane onto an ice bank and opens the canopy. When he sees a small box in your hand, he furrows his brows under the cowl. You lead the way through the icy cave and look around for any sign of Clark.

“Is that for his birthday?” Bruce asks.

“What’d you get him?” you reply.

“He’s not the easiest person in the world to buy presents for.” Bruce lifts an envelope from his belt as he speaks.

“Please tell me that’s not a gift card.”

“It’s not… It's cash.”

You nod, and follow Bruce up the stairs into the heart of Superman’s fortress.

“What do you get for the man who has everything?” Bruce adds before freezing.

You drop the gift box when you see Clark. Bruce’s arm stretches past you protectively as you look from a distance. Clark stands motionless with a large plant attached to his chest and wrapped around his shoulders and back.

“What is that?” you ask Bruce.

He walks down the steps to get a closer look, and you follow closely behind him.

“Looks like some kind of plant,” Bruce says. “Seems to be growing through his costume and into his body.”

You step to Bruce’s side and look at Clark’s chest. He’s breathing, barely, but that’s enough of a promise that he can be saved from whatever this is. Clearly, someone was in the fortress, and Clark probably interrupted them. You will know where to start if you learn what he was investigating.

“Look around,” Bruce requests. “I’ll see what I can find here.”

You leave his side as he shines a light in Clark’s eyes. Bruce is well-versed in Kryptonian anatomy, so you trust him to decide what’s best for Clark.

“Pupils aren’t responding in the slightest. He must be cut off from all sensation,” Bruce deduces.

“How do we save someone who doesn’t know we’re trying?” you inquire.

Bruce doesn’t answer you but murmurs, “Kent, where are you?”

“So, it was a gift. Teleported here from some alien culture, some grateful world. Or someone wanting you to think they were grateful,” Bruce says to Clark.

“How remarkable,” someone calls. Bruce stands quickly and sees Mongul as he finishes, “You animals really are almost intelligent, aren’t you? That’s exactly what happened.”

Mongul steps out of the shadows, and Bruce sees you unconscious in his hand. His jaw clenches, but he remains calm and focused. He can’t save you or Clark if he loses a fight with Mongul.

“Mongul,” Bruce greets.

“You recognize me. I’m flattered. I suppose Superman told you all about our previous encounter.”

“You mean how he humiliated you?” Bruce taunts.

“A… jaundiced account. What inferior specimens he surrounds himself with.” Mongul raises you cruelly and says, “I took her down before she even knew I was there, and I’ll take this planet just as easily.”

You gesture with your hand to show Bruce you’re about to move and then swing your legs up. When they meet Mongul’s jaw, he tips back, and you fall to the cold floor.

“Maybe she knew more than you thought,” you say. “We inferior specimens call it ‘playing possum.’”

You prepare to fight Mongul despite the unfairness of the fight. Before you can punch or be punched, however, Bruce jumps between you and Mongul.

“No,” he demands.

“Clearly the males on this world are the smart one,” Mongul muses. “He wants to know about the plant. The Black Mercy is a telepathic species. It reads the heart’s desires and feeds the individual a totally convincing simulation of it.”

“So, he’s dreaming?” Bruce clarifies.

“Oh, far deeper than any dream. I wonder where he thinks he is… Sitting on a throne ruling the universe, all you human garbage fawning at his feet? More honest, don’t you think than this pretense of being a selfless hero?”

“Bruce, we can’t take him,” you whisper as Mongul looks at Clark. “What are we supposed to do?”

“We can’t take him,” Bruce agrees. “But we can take a plant.”

“Need a distraction?”

“Be careful.”

You run toward Mongul and force him backward, away from Clark. He knocks you to the floor with ease, but where you lack size and power, you have mobility and agility. You maneuver away from him and run through an opening in the wall. As you hoped, he follows you.

Meanwhile, Bruce attempts to cut through the plant but fails.

“He’ll kill her, Clark,” Bruce tells Clark. “And then he’ll kill us all. Shake it off. Come back to us… Please.”

Bruce told you to be careful, but you’re doing anything you can to keep Mongul away from him. You fire a Kryptonian weapon at him, but you and Bruce face similar luck as nothing works to help you. You’re trapped in a losing fight, and Bruce can’t get Clark back. You see another line of weapons and run into an adjoining room. Mongul follows you, and he’s loud enough that Bruce can locate you without seeing you.

“She’s in the hall of weapons. That will buy her time, but not enough.” He grips Clark’s shoulders and adds, “She’s fighting for her life, Clark. You’ve got to fight too, Clark.”

The weapon goes cold, and you drop it before you realize how close you are to Mongul. Mogul wraps a hand around your shoulders and squeezes your neck before pushing you onto the floor.

“First, I’ll kill you and the Bat and then I’ll take this planet,” he says.

“You won’t win,” you force out.

“Of course I will.”

Mongul lifts you from the ground before dropping you again, and you can only hope that Bruce is close to saving Clark. Once he’s back, you can be sure Mongul won’t win.

“Yes, that’s it,” Bruce says as he pulls the Black Mercy from Clark’s chest. “Fight it. Fight it.”

Bruce finally succeeds and removes the plant from Clark, but his victory is short-lived before it attaches to him instead.

“Batman!” you yell as Mongul throws you across the hall of weapons.

You struggle to push yourself to your feet, but a blue and red blur knocks Mongul off his feet before you can. While Clark pays Mongul back for everything he lost, you stumble through a hole in the wall to find Bruce. It’s unimaginable - to lose your heart’s desire, but when you see Bruce smiling with the Black Mercy on his chest, you find the strength to keep moving.

“Bruce,” you call, but it’s no more than a whimper.

You kneel before him and grip the sides of the plant. Pulling is pointless, but you need him back. Clark can undoubtedly handle Mongul alone, but Bruce needs your help now.

“Bruce, fight for me. Come back to me,” you plead.

“Bruce, I think it’s your turn.”

Bruce shakes his head and continues kissing you. The kids are making noise in the formal living room, but he ignores it. Not even the unmistakable sound of something breaking can draw Bruce away from you.

“Brucie,” you try again.

Talking against his lips doesn't work because his kisses are addictive. You finally raise your hands and push yourself away from Bruce. He smiles, and you know your happiness is evident on your face, too.

“Your kids are destroying the manor,” you remind him. 

“We can fix it. And they’re our kids.”

“I’m happy,” you tell him.

“I am too.”

Bruce brushes your hair back and watches your smile fall.

“But it’s not real,” you whisper.

“It can be,” Bruce promises.

He leans toward you, and you kiss his forehead before answering, “Then wake up and make it real.”

Bruce wakes and is harshly reminded of where he is as he falls backward. The Black Mercy is wrapping around your outstretched arms, and you grunt with effort as you force it away from your chest. Clark is still fighting Mongul, and each reference to his heart’s desire revives his fight and energy.

“Bruce,” you call.

Bruce pushes your arms away from your face, and you roll toward a hole in the floor. Mongul is directly beneath you, and the Black Mercy falls away from you before landing on him. Clark sits back in relief as Mongul disappears into his heart’s desire.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks.

You assure him that it's nothing more than bumps and bruises, and Bruce pulls a grappling hook from his belt. You wrap your arms around Bruce and cling to him as he lowers to Clark’s side.

“This was your birthday present,” you tell Clark as you pass him the battered box. “Probably broken now, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clark says with a smile. He looks up at the Kryptonian statues above you and promises, “I won’t forget you.”

 “I wonder what he’s seeing,” you say, pointing toward Mongul. “Something better than he deserves, I’m sure.”

“You’re the only one who didn’t get a glimpse at your heart’s desire,” Clark points out. “Maybe I should get you a gift on the way back.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I’m sorry for whatever it is you lost. But I’m glad you get to spend your birthday here.”

“I appreciate it. And who knows, maybe I’ll get my desire someday.”

“I hope so.”

“Happy birthday,” Bruce says as he passes the envelope to Clark.

“Thanks, Bruce,” Clark replies. “What do you say we got back to the Watchtower and let the Fortress rest for a while?”

You and Bruce agree, but Bruce waits beside you as Clark walks toward the hidden entrance. He’ll meet you back in space, but now you’re more interested in Bruce’s attention on you.

“I’m sorry,” you offer.

“I thought it would be about my parents. When Mongul explained it, I just assumed,” Bruce says.

“I think mine would have been a normal life. No need for superheroes or watchtowers… just domesticity and happiness with someone who I love and who loves me.”

“You were there,” Bruce says quickly.

“Oh,” you say, unsure of any other, more appropriate response. "Was it… you don’t have to tell me.”

“It felt so real, even though I knew it wasn’t. Is it wrong that I wanted it to be?”

“Of course not.”

“Clark can’t get what he wanted, not if he was back at Krypton, but I could get mine with a single question. What makes me more worthy; after everything I’ve done?”

“Bruce,” you say, drawing his attention when you lay a hand on his chest. “It’s not about that. If your desire is more achievable in this life, that has nothing to do with what you deserve. And you’re not a bad person, so stop punishing yourself.”

“You told me I could make it real,” he murmurs.

“Then ask the question. You can leave it here with that plant, or you can do something for you this one time.”

“We were in the manor,” Bruce begins. “And there were kids playing in the other room, and you looked so happy. I was happy again, and I haven’t been happy in that house since I was eight years old.”

“Things can change,” you whisper.

“Would you- could we try?” Bruce asks.

“The kids in the manor thing or the you and me thing?” you tease.

You lay your hands on Bruce’s shoulders and lean close to him. His hands hover above your waist before settling against the top of your hips.

“Both?” he suggests.

“Alfred will be so happy to have company again,” you say before closing the distance and kissing Bruce.

His dreams are coming true, and yours are too. The fight never ends, but part of you is glad that the Black Mercy attached to Bruce’s chest and the version of you in his heart convinced him to take the next step.

“Alright, let’s go, Brucie,” you say as you pull back. “Clark’s going to get suspicious.”

“Brucie?” Bruce repeats. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“New things, remember? Now, come on, we have a world to protect before you take me on a proper date.”

Bruce follows you as you walk back toward the batplane and shakes his head as he murmurs, “Does this not count?”

[zoruxsblog]

hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files."

"Files from the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice.

"If these documents are released, Colson will win his case and bury his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't toss a case for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. And if we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his client's life matters."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

[zoruxsblog]

17+ content, blank blogs dnf

just bsf!dick grayson making you squirt and calling you babe... as a friend of course

“you mean- never?” dick grayson inquires in a flat tone, almost in disbelief. you confirm with a simple and high pitched nope, speaking of all the times you’ve failed to cum using just your hand.

he’s ecstatic at the idea, even if he suspects it’s your attempt of getting him back in your bed. he’s subject to details like this, being your best friend. not to mention you’ve had conversations similar before; but this time is different. this time, you’re having a casual conversation about your bland sex life a week after dick got the chance to fuck the lights out of you; and the chance wasn’t missed, nor a regret. so yes, he sees the bait, and he’s more than happy to take it.

like the clever bastard he is, dick gets you to give him the green light rather than blatantly falling for it. I've slept with people like that, he boasts, you know me though. a few more sneaky remarks and you're sucking the inside of your cheek in defeat before you tell him to 'demonstrate'.

now he’s got a hand down your shorts, carefully situating you into his lap and keeping a steady hand pinching at the fat of your hips. "how's that?" dick asks, circling your clit with generous pressure before slipping right inside. his fingers hit you deep, way deeper than your own or anyone else's, and that little fact has him all the more eager.

calculated efforts nudge at that sweet spot and you gasp, thighs flinching and giving him more room to get a little deeper. you glance at him with an almost awkward expression but he’s already enthralled, lazily tugging your shorts down a bit further with a hungry glint in his eye.

“it’ll feel better when you calm down,” dick coos at you, a sly hand slipping under your shirt to brush over a hardened nipple. “relax for me.” he’s gentle with you despite his brewing impatience, scissoring and spreading your cunt open on his fingers to coax you out of your nervousness. you start rolling your hips and his fingers curl way deeper, eyes shooting open with a soft cry of his name.

“it feels…“ you start with a pleasurable hitch of breath, “feels-“

“good?” he finishes the thought for you with a particularly deep thrust, “I know, sweetheart, but it’ll get better.”

his thumb barely touches your clit and you tremble, arms clinging around his neck as you gasp and whine right into his ear. pretty little noises just for him as his free hand palms your breast, urging you closer and closer into him until you’re moaning into his mouth. from this angle his kisses are sloppy, swallowing up your keens as he finds the speed that has you writhing in his lap.

“yeah- keep doin’ that,” dick manages between kisses, spreading your legs wider as you twitch around him and you swear you hear him moan with you. “just like that, baby- fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“dickie,” you whine, half outta your mind with pleasure, “‘m close- so close, please-“

“I know, sweets, give it to me-“ he pants with you, lips loosely catching yours just before he catches the perfect angle inside you, “cum for me, pretty girl, c’mon.“

your hips grind into his leg a few more times and you cry, holding dick close and practically crumbling in his grasp as you leak around his knuckles. dick talks you through what feels like a never ending orgasm and his hand fails to stop moving, mesmerized by what he’s pulled out of you, sticky fluids dripping into his palm as your pussy squelches around his fingers and you whine.

“dick, I- shit- I just-“

“I know, babe,” he confirms with a pleased grin, still holding you in his lap with the perfect view of your mess. “relax, remember? lemme try something.”

dick shuffles from beneath you until you’re sitting right on top of his cock, throbbing through flimsy pajamas while he works out a new angle. you’re dazed and a bit confused, still trembling in overstimulation until the coil swells into another rapidly approaching orgasm. he’s nudging at your g-spot over and over with more intensity, kissing at your shoulder while groping your tits and it has you damn near tears.

“you feel that, yeah?” he checks, “deep in your tummy? let it go, baby- let me see it.”

you can’t wrap your head around what he’s looking for, but you give it to him regardless- head hanging over his shoulder with a desperate whine and arching away from dick. distantly, you feel the fabric under you, soaked beyond what you thought normal as he trails off in praise over your moans. “goddamn, that was gorgeous- all for me, huh?” his fingers pump in and out a few more times as the high fades, then removing them to finally rest. “was I the first to see that?”

it takes a moment of recovery—deep and staggered breaths with a low whine before processing the mess. before processing that your best friend just made you fucking squirt.

“oh my god,“ you stumble over words, “i’m sorry, dick, I didn’t-“

“babe,” he cuts you off with the casual endearment again, “you’re telling me no one’s made you do that before?” his hand’s soiled with your slick and cum and he brings it to his mouth with no hesitation, letting you slide out of his lap as his tongue laps around his fingers.

“mm… no,” you mutter while ogling at the hard-on straining his ruined pajamas, “I didn’t… I didn’t even know I could do that,” and after a moment, the awkwardness finally seeps away when he laughs out of content with himself.

“y’think you could give me another?” he asks with no shame, kneeling between your legs with the intent of getting his proper fill. “it’ll be better with tongue, too- when you cum, I mean,” he corrects himself as if he gave away his shameful thirst, like you wouldn’t catch on. like you wouldn’t remember how your best friend’s so easily pussy whipped.

dick doesn’t even give you time to answer his question, though, pulling you to the edge of the couch and suckling on your clit as he locks your thighs around his head. you can tell from the groan that vibrates through you that he’s palming his cock through the fabric drenched in your fluids, and you can tell that he fully intends to pull another orgasm out of you all under the guise of ‘demonstrating’ for you.

“you’re shameless, dick grayson.”

“‘nd you taste good,” he mutters matter-of-factly, “I don’t see how you could blame me.” ❧

[zoruxsblog]

chapter 1: perv

summary: When a new serial killer prowls the streets of Gotham and murders politicians in Gotham, Batman is forced into unraveling the city's dark secrets. Only, he didn't expect to team up with you. What an unlikely duo...

pairing: Batman x Reader

word count: 2k

warning: spoilers for The Batman (2022)

note: no use of (y/n) and enjoy!

Sonata in Darkness: ... [2]

“Thursday, October thirty-first…

The streets are crowded for the holiday, but hiding in the chaos… is the element. Waiting to strike at the decent… the vulnerable…

But I’m there too. Watching.

Two years of nights have turned me into a nocturnal animal. It’s a big city, I can’t be everywhere… but they don’t know that.

We have a signal now. When that light hits the sky, it’s not just a call… It’s a warning.

Fear is a tool.

They think I’m hiding in the shadows… 

But I am the shadows.

I am vengeance.” 

———————————————————————————————

“Watch where you’re going, pipsqueak.”

The man who backed into you spat, grumbling as he stumbled away. Sighing, you rolled your eyes but kept your composure and continued on your way with a covered tray in your hands. Luckily the bastard didn’t make you drop it. 

The dim club obscured most features of a person, but the colorful lights revealed everything with a flash or blink. You were dolled up in your work attire: glamorous makeup, a slutty dress, heels, the whole works. Men and women alike found you irresistible—a real catch. 

You approached the table with a friendly smile as you set the tray down and revealed its contents: drops. The partiers cheered and clamored to get their hands on the drugs presented before them. With a wink you left the group, all while ignoring the stares and occasional whistles. Slipping behind the bar you saw the bartender waving to get your attention.

“What’s up?”

“Drops. Mr. Cobblepot wants these—“ He pointed to another tray, this time with a thick envelope and a fresh drink, “—delivered to him upstairs.”

“Sure thing,” you said as you gathered the item and sauntered out of the underground club. The almost calming blue light of the 44 Below was immediately erased by the harsh, flashing red lights of the club upstairs. If you weren’t so used to it, it would have given you a headache. You were almost there when suddenly-

“Selina?”

“Oh hey, my little mouse, haven’t seen you all night,” Selina purred with a smile. “Where’re ya off to?”

“Oz. He requested some samples from below.” 

She hummed in understanding. “Want me to come with? I’m not doing much.”

“Yes, please.” 

Your night just got slightly better. Selina was a friend of yours—your best friend, actually. You guys were sharing an apartment at the moment to save on some cash, but you didn’t mind. The only thing that drove you a little crazy was that she’d seemingly turn up with a new stray cat almost every few days. As long as they didn’t start stinking up the apartment, you didn’t really care. At least they were cute.

You guys linked arms and laughed as you made your way past the crowd and to his office, heels clicking on the cold metal floor. Selina took the tray from you to hold it herself—how sweet. Getting closer to his office, you could hear men talking in low tones. Making your way inside, the men silenced themselves. Oz was sitting on his couch while a man clad in a black suit stood in front of him. He looked very… menacing as he stared you and Selina down.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” Oz thankfully interrupted. “Mr. Vengeance don’t bite.”

Recognizing the man as the one and only caped crusader did not calm your nerves in the slightest. ‘The Batman’ was only a slightly new figure in Gotham, known for taking justice into his own hands—his reasons unknown. ‘Maybe he flunked out of the Police academy,’ you had thought humorously at one point. Figuring it was only a matter of time before he tried to involve himself in Penguin’s business, it was still surprising to see him in your boss’ office. 

 He was still staring at you—no—into you. His harsh blue eyes never wavered from yours, even as your friend gave him a pointed look and delivered the tray to Oz. He finally looked away when he heard Oz ruffling through the money in the envelope and setting a stash of drops on the tray. As Selina set down the drink onto the table, you too had looked away from the dark man, and your eyes fell onto the photograph before her. It was Annika being escorted by Mayor Mitchel, no doubt, but you could also make out you, Selina, and Oz standing behind the couple talking. Selina gave you a look.

“Thank you, honey,” Oz said, breaking you out of your spell. You smiled hesitantly and turned to leave, daring to look back at the black crusader, but he was already looking your way. Linking arms with Selina again, you hastily made your way out of there and back into the main club area. Before you could though, she yanked you back and pressed herself against the nearby wall, urging you to do the same.

“That was Anni.”

“Yeah, I saw. Why’d he have a picture of her?”

“I’m not sure,” Selina said. “But it can’t be good. Shh, now listen.”

You couldn’t see what your friend saw, but suddenly she gave a sharp turn and started rushing away. 

“Go, we have to leave. He saw us.”

An indescribable feeling swelled inside you, but you obediently slinked away after her. After grabbing your belongings and coats from the locker rooms, Selina grabbed your hand and led the way outside.

“Taxi!” 

However, it wasn’t long after when you clambered in the backseat of the car that Selina got a phone call. “Hey, it’s me. What’samatter, baby? Slow down, I can’t—on the news? No, wait for us, we’re on our way home. We’re gonna get the hell out of here, I promise…if we have to go sooner, we’ll go tonight!” Selina gave you an uneasy look. “Look, sweetie, we’re just a block away, I‘ll be there soon. Love you.”

———————————————————————————————-

The rain pelted against the man’s back as he peered into some windows with his binoculars atop a nearby building. A woman with short, blonde hair was a wreck and sobbing at the TV. Not long after, two more women, the very same he saw earlier in the club, rushed in to comfort. The dark haired one stayed behind to reassure her as he watched you slip into the back rooms to pull out a bodysuit. You looked around, paranoid in your own home but saw nothing, so you hastily shimmied out of your club dress and into your new apparel–a catsuit. The man moved to get a better look; his eyes lingered a little too long before jumping back to the two other women. By the time you finished getting dressed, the other woman he saw you with was gearing up and you two were sliding out the window. The now-pixie haired woman flipped over the railing and onto the ground while you slid down a nearby pole. Reaching the bottom, you made your way to the garage and hopped on a motorcycle that the woman was operating. The man rushed after the pair, worried that he’d lose them. Climbing onto his own bike, he pursued the women and gave chase.

————————————————————————————————

The rope was thin and light, but just sturdy enough to carry a person. Once your partner in crime made it down through the skylight, you tossed down the lock picking kit to her and lowered yourself down. It took some investigating, but after a while Selina ran her hands along a rather large painting and managed to find a button. Pressing it made the painting retract and allowed the safe to eject. 

Silently working as one, you assembled the tool until it was completed and Selina could look through the scope. As she was deep in concentration, deciding to look around the room wouldn’t hurt. It was a nice, big office, only fit for a mayor. As your eyes wandered, you couldn’t help but notice a shadow flicker overhead. “Cat?” you whispered.

The split second it took to look over at her gave the shadow enough time to materialize just as Selina cracked the safe.

“You’re pretty good at that.”

Instantly your body went into fight mode. A flurry of kicks and spins forced the stranger to make space between you and the safe. As you were fighting, Selina rummaged through the iron box until she found what she was looking for—the passport. Interested in what was in her hand, the man made a bold move and grabbed your leg that was coming for him, twisting the appendage and throwing you away as he stalked after her. Leaping to your feet, Selina called out, “Catch!” 

Smoothly catching the book and zipping it away in your front breast compartment, you joined your friend in attacking the assailant. With his back facing you, you jumped on top and wrapped your legs around his face, choking him between your thighs. His breath turned ragged and he wheezed frantically; his hands went straight to trying to get you off. In return, he took multiple blows from Selina from the front. Finding it almost impossible to knock you off first without dealing with your partner, he delivered a calculated punch that rendered her breathless before he flung her across the room. Gasping, he finally got a hold and heaved you over his head and onto a table. One of his hands immediately went to your throat to hold you down; your hands met with it at once. His grip was strong and unrestricted; it felt like he could kill you if he pressed down a little harder. Seeing the fight leave your body as your eyes bulged and glistened in fear, he took a moment to examine you. Your hands were still furiously pawing at the glove around your throat as you struggled to gasp for breath. He wouldn’t budge.

Giving you a glare as he drank in air, his gaze fixed themselves onto the front of your suit. Sliding his free hand down, he unzipped the breast pocket and fished out the little passport. He struggled as you fought for breath. His hand on your throat disappeared, leaving you gasping as you collapsed to the ground, body hunched over itself as you started a coughing fit. He flipped open the book.

He stood in front of you, panting, “Kosolov, Annika… He hurt her? That’s why you killed him?”

He gave you a while to respond. Rising to your feet and rubbing your neck, you choked out, “What? We didn’t kill anybody.” Selina rose to her feet. 

A door creaked open just as you went to swipe the book in his hand. Effortlessly, he pulled you into his chest and spun around the corner, his hand covering the lower portion of your face. Panic swelled inside of you; was he going to choke you again? But the pressure remained consistently light as he shushed you, so you took the chance to take deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You could almost feel yourself melting into his embrace. Echoing footsteps slowly paraded around the room you had previously occupied—Selina must have hid. Thoughts trampled around in your mind until the sound of the door squeaking shut awakened you. You broke free from his grasp.

“Rat?” Selina whispered out as she crawled out of her hiding space. Whispering back, she slinked into the room.

“I swear, you’ve got the wrong idea, okay? We didn’t kill anybody-“

“He thinks we murdered someone?” Selina asked, even more pissed off at the accusation

“-We’re taking back what was stolen. Mayor Mitchel took it from her when all she’s trying to do is leave this dump of a city.”

“What does she know?” The Batman asked, face highlighted by the skylight from above. 

“Whatever it is,” interjected Selina, “it’s got her so spooked she won’t even tell me.” 

“She did seem upset.” Your eyes widened, ‘What?’

“Back at your place,” he continued. “Let’s go talk to her.” Meeting hesitant looks, he offered the passport back to your friend who gladly snatched it out of his hand.

Sneaking out of the apartment undetected, he followed behind to where your bike was—his was parked right beside it. Climbing onto the passenger seat of Selina’s bike, you called out to him. “Hey…how much did you see at our place?” His eyes darted to your figure but failed to meet your eyes before busying himself with his own bike. Was that…bashfulness?

“Perv.”

[zoruxsblog]

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐬:

𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭¡𝐜𝐚 💦 | 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 🃏| 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 🪼| 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ☘️ | 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭🍦| 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 💉 | 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 2 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 🎻 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 🔌 | 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 🧸

𝕻𝔱 2

☆ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬/𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬/𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 ★

𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙭 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

☆ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬/𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬/𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬/𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ★

☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 ★

[zoruxsblog]

To a Man's Heart (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce keeps forgetting to eat.

Warnings: None unless food counts

Request?: No

A/N: It turns out that I don't like to describe people eating.

Y/N and Bruce had been together for so long that they knew each other inside and out. Every little habit and quirk was accounted for and as soon as something was off, they knew something was wrong.

But there was one thing that Y/N just could not fully understand: how it was possible for Bruce, one of the most ripped and athletic men she’d ever met, to go without food for so long. She’d known guys who played sports in high school who never stopped eating, but there were times when she’d seen Bruce eat three bites of a sandwich in an entire day before heading out on patrol.

It was roughly 8pm when Y/N descended the steps into the Cave, her slippered feet softly clanking against the steel. Bruce had told her earlier that day that he wasn’t planning to go out on patrol and had sent the boys instead, but she still didn’t expect to find him at the computer in deep concentration. She almost hoped that he wouldn’t notice her almost creeping up behind him, but of course nothing got past Bruce, even without all of his detective equipment.

“What’re you doing down here?” he asked as he turned around in his chair to see her.

“Just checking up on you,” she said as she made her way across to him. “I know you’re usually quiet but I never heard from you all night.”

He smiled warmly and held his arms out to her so she could climb into his lap. “Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in this case I forgot to go back upstairs.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his warm chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, not realising how much she’d missed his touch after not seeing him all day. He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She felt like she was just about to drift off to sleep when a low growling sound snapped her out of her daze.

Not again.

“Bruce, when was the last time you ate something?” she asked as she pulled herself up to look at him.

“What?” Bruce asked, as if it was a ridiculous thing for her to ask him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked again, slower.

He was quiet for a second, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to remember. “Maybe around noon? I’ve spent more time working than thinking about food, Y/N.”

Y/N let go of him and stood up before grabbing his hands and tugging on them. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you something to eat,” she said. She could feel him trying to resist, but he knew better than to try to stop her from getting him to take care of him.

Bruce let her pull him to his feet, his joints stretching out from sitting down for so long, and followed her back up the stairs to the Manor. The warmth of the study hit both as soon as the hidden door slid open and light from the sun filtered into the doorway. Even though it was only 8 ‘o clock, it was still light out and birds were singing outside. 

After spending all day underground in the Cave, Bruce welcomed the quiet of the Manor and could feel himself relaxing with each step they both took through the study. The hum of electronics slowly faded out of earshot as they made their way out of the study and towards the kitchen, their footsteps echoing around them.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, Y/N guided Bruce to sit at the table before going to the fridge and opening it.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked as she studied the fridge’s contents.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” he said and got up to stand behind her. “You know I’m not picky.”

“Bruce, I already had dinner.”

The fridge was relatively bare, considering that it was the day before she and Alfred did the grocery shopping and they had a full house of vigilantes to feed. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on an almost empty pack of bacon, along with some leftover lettuce and tomatoes.

“I could make you a BLT,” she offered, looking over her shoulder at Bruce.

He leaned down to softly kiss the top of her head. “BLT sounds wonderful,” he said.

Even though she usually insisted that Bruce not help her in the kitchen, Y/N let him slice the tomatoes and lettuce for her while she cooked the bacon. She knew Alfred wouldn’t be happy if there was a small kitchen fire and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. Thankfully, he’d managed to do it without cutting himself or making too much of a mess.

Clearly some of his swordsmanship translates to the kitchen, Y/N thought as she assembled the sandwich and plated up. They sat side-by-side at the table, and as soon as Y/N gave Bruce his plate, he took one half of the sandwich and handed the other half to her.

“No, Bruce, it’s yours,” she said as she tried to push his hand away.

“You should eat something too,” he said before taking a bite of his half.

“I already ate, you have it.”

He shrugged and continued to eat, almost wolfing the sandwich down. Obviously he was hungrier than he’d thought before.

“Is it okay?” Y/N asked. “I know I’m not as good a cook as Alfred is.”

“It’s delicious,” Bruce said, giving her a warm smile. “You are a good cook, miles better than I could ever be.”

“It’s just a sandwich Bruce,” she said bashfully, “how hard can it be to get right?”

“Trust me, I would know,” he said through his last bite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s kind of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job,” Bruce said as he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “What would I do without you?”

“Same as you did before, leave whatever Alfred makes you go cold.”

Bruce laughed and came back to the table to gather Y/N in his arms.

“See, this is why I married you,” he said as he gently pulled her to stand. “You make me food, and you make me laugh.”

Y/N returned his hug and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and letting him take over her senses.

“You’ve been sitting at that computer all day,” she said when she lifted her head up. “You needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said. “This case isn’t that urgent and the boys are dealing with patrol.”

“Does that mean you’ll come watch a movie with me?” Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce smiled and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. “Yes it does,” he said. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on you.”

Y/N let go of him and took his hand again to lead him to the living room. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep, at least I get to spend some time with you.”

[zoruxsblog]

Sonata in Darkness Masterlist

summary: When a new serial killer prowls the streets of Gotham and murders politicians in Gotham, Batman is forced into unraveling the city's dark secrets. Only, he didn't expect to team up with you. What an unlikely duo...

pairing: Batman x Reader

total word count: ???

note: no use of (y/n)

• [1] • [2] • [3] • [4] • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • bonus •

[zoruxsblog]

could you write a degradation dirty talk type bruce!! i imagine him to have the BEST dirty talk

oh, anon, he has the best dirty talk.

bruce is experienced, mature and i can tell he knows how to treat a woman.

warnings ! — SMUT, headcanons, fem!reader, husband!bruce wayne, dirty talk, cunnilingus, maledom, praise, compliments

summary ? — bruce has the best dirty talk.

౿ . . ` ౨ৎ ENJOY 🦇

husband!bruce wayne, who knows what his words do to you and uses them skillfully.

husband!bruce wayne, who only needs to open his mouth and talk to make you wet.

husband!bruce wayne, who massages your clit through the fabric of your underwear and whispers “so wet for me, yes? yes, princess, just for me?”

husband!bruce wayne, who will occasionally take a break from your clit just to talk; sure, he doesn't look like the kind of man who would be distracted by conversation in the middle of his favorite business, but my god, your face when you moan disappointedly is worth it, “are you okay, love? should i stop?” and he says it all with a satisfied soft smile, as if he doesn't realize at all what a mess you're becoming after him.

husband!bruce wayne, who's just admiring you and the way you're watching his movements. “that's it, love. my wife is so delicious,” he straddles your thighs and spreads them a little wider, not forgetting to look you straight in the eyes, “i could stay between those thighs all day. you're so beautiful from this angle,” he's so good with his words that you want to cum right now.

husband!bruce wayne, who knows where to push and where to kiss; with each movement of his tongue, your legs tense up more and more, and your hands reach for his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer...

“so impatient,” bruce continues to murmur, “let me enjoy, princess, don't be so unfair,” he leaves a kiss on your clit, making you clench around his fingers. you lean back and try to relax, but it's almost impossible when the rough pads of his fingers press against the tender walls, “good girl,” he whispers and still continues to suck on your clit, “look at you. so beautiful when you cum.”

husband!bruce wayne, who fucks you so deep and slow that with each thrust you seem to see stars. “you were enthusiastic when we started,” bruce pulls back your hair a little, leaning over and whispering right into your lips, “look at you. cumming on my cock for the second time,” he speeds up a little as his fingers find your clit; it takes you a couple seconds to cum again, “good girl, so good.”

husband!bruce wayne, who continues to whisper short “my beautiful girl”, “that big cock makes you cum again, doesn't it, love?” and “you're so fucking tight”.

husband!bruce wayne, who wants another orgasm from you. he wants to empty you; to fuck your brain, to make you forget everything that might be in your pretty head. he pushes deep into you, unbearably slow and sensual, so that you want to scream out how good it feels, ”are you okay, my love?” bruce strokes your hair, twisting a strand on his finger as you mutter positively in response, “great, because i’m not going to stop until i fill you with my cum.” ୨♡୧

sorry for delay ! still having a little rest :)

like, comment & reblog? <3

🦇 abt me | m.list

[zoruxsblog]

Friendly reminder that in a truly sibling display of affection, the bat siblings MUST bully eachother (lovingly)

Jason: I call shotgun

Dick: no

Jason: I said it first!

Dick: I was here first

Jason: you’re going to make your brother, your once dead little brother, ride in the back? I knew you hated me dickhead. I knew it! Bet you wish I was dead!

Dick: if you keep talking like that I’ll just stuff you in trunk like a good corpse

Tim: *already sat in passengers seat*

Damian: *is behind drivers seat*

Dick and Jason: oh hell no

[zoruxsblog]

Simon Riley x DogSitter!Reader pt. 4

<- Previous

Warnings: Cursing, caught half-naked (don't get ya knickers in a twist, it's not by Simon), possessive behaviour, pining

A/N: Good morning! typed this up last night, wanted to post it but Tumblr mobile hates it when I try to edit my drafts. but I cracked open my computer and got it finished! enjoy the day! xoxo

"You need to stay still." You said quietly, your hands gently laying on Riley's stomach as she lay on her back. Her eyes flickered between you and your hands curiously with a nervous look on her face. Her tail swished, brushing with a whoosh against the unkempt grass of Simon's backyard.

"Good- play dead, good..." You slowly removed your hands, placing them against your thighs as you knelt next to her. "And stay-"

As soon as your hands left her fur, she twisted back onto her feet and sat upright. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted, looking at you for the next command.

"No!" You cried, holding the sides of her face and pointing her snout towards you. "You just had it! C'mon, we've got to get this down - need to show off your skills at the dog park, yeah?"

You flopped down on your back and raised your arms in the air. Riley took a few steps back and stared at you - her toe was pointed in anticipation. She had no idea what you were doing.

"Like this-" you said, "Play dead." You rolled back onto your knees, giggling at the flabbergasted expression on her face. "Really- it's easy, let's give it one more go."

You guided her to lay down again - she huffed, seemingly annoyed with whatever it was you were trying to do. She let you roll her onto her back, her legs awkwardly sticking out straight. You tutted and bent her paws at each ankle.

"Good. Sta- stay." You said as she tried to wiggle up. You kept your hands on her belly again, and she boredly looked at the blue sky above.

"Good, Riley. Play dead." You slowly sat back on your haunches, and she managed to stay put. She looked at you upside-down as you fished a few treats from your pocket.

"Stay..." You cooed, holding the treats up to her muzzle. "Good. Play dead."

She gently lapped up the treats when you opened your palm, chewing noisily and looking back at you for direction. She remained on the ground, feet pointed in the air and her tail still.

"Ok, Riley." You said, and she scrambled back onto her feet. "Now, let's try again. Play dead."

She looked at you, tilting her head in confusion. You could see the gears turning, and your skin was nearly on fire with anticipation. "Play dead." You repeated slowly, pointing towards the ground.

Sure enough, she sank to the floor. When she saw the excitement growing in your eyes, she rolled onto her back, letting her legs relax above her.

"Good girl!!" You squealed, rubbing her belly and her face and showering her with kisses - she groaned and yapped, hurriedly getting back up onto her feet.

"Oh, you're so good, Riley!" You exclaimed and handed her a few more treats. She scarfed them down in a matter of seconds as her tail thwapped against the ground.

You felt proud of her - and of yourself. You'd never really considered yourself an actual dog-sitter before. But now, after this achievement, you felt like the dog-sitter.

"Mitchell had better watch his sorry ass..." You stated, standing up and brushing your hands on your thighs. You paused when you felt something cold - you turned to look over your shoulder, and sure enough, your entire back and rump were covered in mud. You sighed, looking back down at where you had laid in the grass. There was a decently sized mud puddle, with the perfect imprint of your torso and backside.

"Oh, for Christ's sake-" you grumbled, trudging back towards the house. Riley hopped through the doorway and made a beeline straight to her water bowl. She lapped up the water messily as you toed off your sneakers, leaving them by the backdoor. You closed the door behind you and groaned as the damp fabric clung to your skin.

"Just my bloody luck." You murmured. You began peeling your clothes off in the hall, starting with your socks, then your sweatshirt, then your top. You were just about to shimmy out of your jeans, when you heard Riley whine.

Turning around, you saw her walking- no, limping, to her dog bed. She groaned as she shuffled around, scratching at the fabric, before plopping down onto the plush cushion.

"Y' feeling alright, girl?" You asked, and she turned her snout towards you. "Time for some medicine, hmm?"

You padded into the kitchen, grabbing her medicine from the counter and popping a pill into your palm. You stole a jar of peanut butter from Simon's cupboard and scooped a spoonful, shoving the pill into the sticky glob and heading back to the living room. "Don't worry-" you said, holding the spoon down to her as she licked it greedily. "I won't count this as one of your daily cookies."

You felt a chill against your bare back - you looked up, noticing that the AC vent was positioned right above Riley's bed.

"Well, that can't be good..." You grumbled. You quickly ran and snagged a worn-out blanket (decorated with bones and tennis balls, most likely from when she was a puppy) from the hall closet, before returning and draping it over her. She let out a wary groan as you tucked in the edges, cocooning her in a layer of felt.

"Need t' make sure you're not too chilly-" you said, securing her under the blanket. "That cold doesn't help your leg, does it?"

She made a content sound and sank her head down onto the cushion, making you chuckle. "There, isn't that much be-"

You stood back up, your sentence interrupted by your own panic. The mailman was outside the front window, staring right back at you. He was frozen, eyes wide with a shocked flush on his cheeks, as he was putting the mail in Simon's box.

In a fit of horror, you glanced down at yourself, being met with the sight of your shirtless torso and jeans. You shrieked in embarrassment and ran into the hall, quickly throwing yourself into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you.

Riley tilted her head as she watched down the hall, the sound of your "Fucking hell!!" Echoing from beyond the bathroom door - she flopped hear head back onto the cushion and sighed.

------------

The cot groaned and creaked beneath Simon as he dropped himself onto it. He tossed his duffle bag on the floor next to him, letting his arm hang over the edge for a moment. His entire body ached - he had let himself relax too much on his time off with Riley, and had nearly forgotten just how rough this job was on his bones.

"Never thought we'd be back 'ere, eh?" Soap said, trudging into the small dorm. "Alejandro said we're always welcome on 'is base, but I ken he meant other circumstances."

Simon groaned in agreement. "Brings back memories, eh?"

Soap scoffed. "If ye say so, LT. Rott'n ones, that's fer sure."

"A' least it's over."

Soap grunted. "Gonna celebrate with a cup o' joe." He said, rolling out his shoulders with a pop. "Need me t' grab ye some?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Like to try n' get some sleep 'fore we head home."

"Suit yourself, LT." Soap said, before he left Simon alone in the dorm.

He sighed heavily. Simon was lying to himself if he thought he was going to get any sleep. During the entire mission (save the parts where he was snapping a bloke's neck, or planting bullets in bodies), he couldn't stop thinking about Riley - which was also a lie. Truthfully, he couldn't stop thinking of the both of you.

Were you treating her well? Did you end up using his shower? Did you remember her medicine? Did you use the throw blanket when you slept on his sofa? What did you two do all week? What did you do all week?

It was hard to realize that he'd only seen you in person twice, with the way that he was constantly plagued by you. You and your overly-bright and bold personality. He wondered if you'd be there when he gets back home, or if you'd-

Oh, right. He'd be home tomorrow night. He'd forgotten to text you. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed up a message.

coming home tomorrow evening. it'll be late. don't worry about being there, but if you are, that's fine.

He hoped you would be there, he thought, as he sent the message, letting the phone drop onto his chest.

Not a minute had passed that Simon had fought with his own mind, when his phone buzzed. He pulled the screen back above his face and opened the message from you.

Glad to hear you're back safe!

Buzz

If you are actually back, I guess I don't know where you are...

Buzz

Anyways, that's fine! I'll walk Riley around 7 pm, she's good after that until bedtime

Buzz

Of course, you know that, she's YOUR dog after all, lol

Buzz

Get back safe! And I mean get HOME, not just wherever you are right now!

He stared at each message as it popped up, one after another. You must type fast - and god, were you annoying... but he didn't hate it. He should hate it, he'd hated every other person he'd run into with your attitude. But he felt the depth and the honesty in your words, even over text. It was aggravating him, but instead of stomping your sparks out, he wanted to hide them in his dark corner, where no one else could see just how bright you were.

Shut the fuck up, he thought. Man whore.

He began to reply to your message, thick fingers struggling to tap away at the tiny screen.

How are my girls?

Fuck- backspace, backspace- Christ, that was a close one.

How's my girl?

Send.

He groaned, staring at the screen, hungrily waiting for you to respond. He thought of the sound of your nails clacking away on your phone. What would you say? "Good"? "Fine"? "She's sleeping"? He wished you'd go on another tangent, stringing him along in a conversation where one message hardly had anything to do with the last.

Buzz

You sent a photo.

Simon's chest felt tight with anticipation - he hurriedly clicked on the image to make it bigger.

It was you and Riley, both lying on the couch. You were curled up against the arm of the sofa, wearing your pajamas and tucked under his throw blanket with a book in your hand. Your hair was down, and a bit damp, too. Riley was cozied up to your side, her snout resting in your lap. The both of you looked up into the camera - you, with a sweet, soft smile that nearly put Simon in cardiac arrest.

Doing good! I think she likes it when I read to her!

Simon exhaled heavily through his nose. You read to the dog- of course you fucking read to the dog. Why was that attractive? Why was he so warmed by your matching daisy pajamas? By the mug of tea on the coffee table (in his mug, which made it worse)? By the way Riley was so comfortable around you?

How were you doing this to him - infiltrating his brain so easily, consuming it like a weed? A beautiful, elegant weed?

He groaned and laid his phone on his chest, rubbing his eyes. He let his palms linger over the sockets for a moment. Something must be wrong with him. Simon was never so easily distracted by anything, let alone anyone. Had he gotten soft on his time off? Was this some sort of pre-middle-aged hormone cocktail that was controlling him? How the hell was he supposed to snuff this flame out? He could never request your services again; but as soon as the thought entered his head, he threw it out. He'd keep you, if not for his own selfishness, then for the way you were so excited to have the job in the first place. This would have to be a project of self-discipline. He would have to figure out how to-

"Steamin' Jesus- that's who ye got watchin' Riley?!"

For a moment, Ghost nearly came out and landed a punch to Soap's gut. But Simon simply jolted, catching his phone right before it slid off onto the floor.

"Bloody- fuckin' hell, Johnny." He grumbled.

"Bloody fuckin' hell indeed-" Soap agreed, trying to swipe at Simon's phone. "Pull 'er up again, lemme see-"

"Bugger off." Simon warned. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pocketed his phone.

"Awe, this why ye dinnae want te talk 'bout 'er earlier?" Soap said with a playful grin, collapsing onto his cot on the opposite side of the room. "Been hidin' tha' pretty thing all te yerself?"

"'M not hidin' anythin.'"

"Then lemme see- might snag 'er number, too-"

"No you won't, Johnny."

"Why not?"

"Because y' don't need a bloody dog-walker."

"Maybe not, but I could always use a lass, eh?"

"She is off limits-" Simon said, narrowing his gaze at Soap, "- n' there's not gonna be another word 'bout it."

Simon laid down and rolled to face the wall before Soap could utter another word. He heard Johnny scoff, followed by the sound of him removing his boots.

"Dry piece of shite, ye are..." he grumbled.

Despite his instinctual reaction to Johnny's instantaneous attraction to you, Simon was a bit shocked with himself. Again - you weren't his. The only tether he had to you was strictly monetary and contractual. He even imagined that you might be pissed, having a client treat you like they were your bodyguard. He needed to figure this out and de-root it from the source, before it got any worse.

But... if he allowed himself to entertain the idea, just this once... Would it be such a bad thing? To attempt- to convince you that he wasn't so horrible a person, really- if you could just see past his hard, outer shell, built up from years of trauma and blood. Who knows how long it would take you to see him as a decent person, but he could think about the logistics later. It wasn't against the law to date your pet-sitter, he just had to make himself believe that. Maybe you were just the perfect amount of sunshine that could melt the iciness within him.

With a glance over his shoulder, making sure Soap was minding his beeswax, Simon pulled his phone out of his pocket. He gave your picture a long, favorable glance, before he sent you a final message for the night.

keep reading to her for me, and tell her I'll be home soon. thanks again.

------------

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae @cum-tea-and-towels @boystepper @definitelynotaclown @your-wifes-boyfriend @ghostslittlegf @bossva @poppingaround @yannvi @katzykat @mileyraes @chocolate-noodles @jupiternighties @sadlonelybagel @rorysbrainrot @identity2212 @pricescontroversiallyyoungerwife @reevesdriver @kingshitonly @ghost4love @lilyofhoon @xxkay15xx

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! It might need to be a reblog at this point lol

[zoruxsblog]

Simon meets a pregnant woman whose bf dumped her

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

[zoruxsblog]

part 1 of regency era!ghost x reader

noodled from this. warnings: angst, forced/arranged marriage, emotional neglect, Simon being an absolute dick.

you weren't an idiot. you knew better than to expect love from an arranged marriage. if watching your parents' has taught you anything, it's to not have such high hopes for something so impossible to achieve.

but at the very least, you hoped for some level of cooperation. a hint of companionship. a friendship, perhaps.

your husband has been so cold from the very beginning. he met you the day of the wedding. you both said your vows, kissed and briefly danced for the court to witness. after that, there was a few moments of the consummation of the marriage and you were sent on your way after that was over with.

it was difficult to adjust to his indifference, despite what you've been told. you thought that you would be the exception to it, that you would be treated with a hint of warmth, considering that you were going to spend the rest of your life with him.

but there was no such warmth nor care spared for you. you even doubt it was spared for his mistress too, but at least she seemed to be enjoying herself in his bed, which did break your heart even more. the thought of his infidelity did hurt, but it was to be expected. he is a king, after all. kings to whatever they want. and whatever needs you can't meet, he's surely finding them elsewhere.

yet you still tried. you tried your best to be a good queen, a good wife. despite what you've been told about his first love, about the woman he lost to another man, you attempted to be something he can look forward to at the end of the day.

you wore dresses that were in his favourite colour. sprayed all sorts of perfumes to make sure you smelled nice for him. kept your hair prim and proper so he might notice. wore jewellery that you thought he might find pretty on your skin.

left flowers in his study to brighten his day. sometimes sunflowers, sometimes roses, sometimes daisies. it was trial and constant error, just hoping that he might tell you his favourite ones so you can stick to those, but he never did.

the only reason you stopped doing so was because one of the maids heard him muttering complaints about how the flowers clutter his desk. alright. no flowers then. man needs to work hard and he needs all the space he can get.

but you were determined to brighten his study. so you painted the sunset for him. painted the sunrise, painted the night sky, painted the moon and stars for him, but he never even took the time to even look at one of those paintings. the canvases were left in the corner of the room and thrown away, per his request.

you even put all your violin lessons to use in trying to impress him, but it was all in vain.

read all his favourite books to try and open a fruitful conversation about them, only for him to shut you down when he lashes out and tells you "you will never be her".

a moment of silence passes as the tears we'll in your eyes before he commands you to leave the room because he can "barely hear his own thoughts with all that chattering".

yes, that one did sting. your shoulders dropped and your cheerful expression broke ever so slightly before you hid it with neutrality. you bowed and walked away, as per his demand request.

that was what stopped you from trying. if he found your presence that much of a hinderance to his peace, then you guess there's no point in trying to be friends with him at all.

from there on, you spoke less. in his presence and the presence of others. being a burden to anyone never sat right with you and his words aggriviated that train of thought, so you just tried not to ramble, tried not to fidget too much under the gaze of the lords and ladies and even the servants. kept your thoughts to yourself and only applied what was necessary and what was required of you. kept a blank stare at the ceiling and numbed your mind while you both performed in your monthly mandatory marital duties, waiting for him to jerk his hips and fill your womb with his spend then you'd be on your way.

at some point, you'd even given up those visits under the guise of faint illnesses and you hadn't heard a single word about it from the king. you figured it was because he most likely relished your absence, or didn't notice it at all.

either way, you were tired.

exhausted of giving one hundred percent of yourself and getting less than half in return. you've had to endure it with your parents, with your siblings and now your husband. if you could not be first or even second or third choice in anyone's heart, then you'd rather not be a choice at all.

unbeknownst to you, the moment you pulled away was when he started to notice you.

unbeknownst to you, Simon had gotten so used to your presence outside of his bed chambers that he felt somewhat pinched by the lack of it.

his desk didn't have a new boquet of flowers sitting in their vase anymore. the air lacked a particular sweetness in your absence. something about your scent and the sound of your voice telling him about the little details of your paintings that just... soothed the voices in his head.

Simon didn't want to admit that he found you charming. it felt like he was betraying the woman he loved. the woman who sailed out of the country once she'd gotten married and wished him well in life.

but the fact of the matter is that you were a stark reminder that even a king has responsibilities. you were the reason why he couldn't even have his freedom. yet somehow, after many moons, his freedom started to take shape in the form of your smile.

so much so that he tried to seek it out. eight months after he'd yelled at you and took a knife to you heart.

only to be met with a startled expression and a tense posture one breakfast morning.

he remembers the painful silence of that day in the gardens. the brief glance you cast to your handmaiden as if to say "what the fuck is he doing here???" not to mention the little shrug from your handmaiden telling you that she has absolutely no idea and she's just as shocked as you are before setting your wide eyes on him, a half-chewed biscuit stuck between your delicate fingers. the pure terror in your eyes because this has never happened before and you're unprepared for such an unprecedented event.

this being him coming to see you in the morning. or ever. this being him sitting down with you for breakfast before the painstaking day begins.

he wasn't prepared for the way your fear and confusion twisted something in his chest. even more so when he realized how quiet you suddenly were around him. never speaking more than ten words. never looking directly at his eyes anymore. sitting so stiffly in your chair with your hands on your lap that he couldn't reach out to attempt to comfort you.

you were polite to him, however. he thinks that might be the worst part. if you'd been angry or upset, he might have felt more comfortable to offer apologies and promises of reparation, but he's not sure how to proceed when he's faced with a wall of quiet fear.

he's not deterred, though. he's done being an ass to you and he should start making amends.

[part 2] banners by @saradika

No Taglist.

do not like, comment, reblog or follow— in fact, do not interact with this blog if you're a minor or if you have no age in your bio. read the [ground rules]. you have no excuses if you get blocked.

[zoruxsblog]

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.