When I see “bambi!bunni!prey!bimbo!clumsy!petite!reader! “ without her “ master!non-con!dark fic!hunter! ( insert character ) “ so genuinely slime her out
I really like when people write older readers in x reader, idk why
"Big age gap" "college student reader" "19/50" fuck that porno shit, man, give me a reader who's on their thirties, forties even, give me joint pain and wrinkles and gray hairs
"But that's not relatable at all!!! I'm not forty!!!" Well, neither are you a fucking Avenger, are you? So just roll with it
reader that isn’t a bimbo? Reader that is put together and likes dressing up? Reader that’s older than 18-20? Reader that’s not white-coded??? Reader who doesn’t have daddy issues? Reader who does have daddy issues in a “man hater” way? Reader who’s taller than 4’11-5’0?? Reader who’s quiet and reserved and not in a robotic way or stuttering way? Reader who’s Tina Belcher coded? Reader who gives off the vibe of a creepy barn owl but somehow it’s endearing? Reader who’s charismatic and charming? Reader who’s-
Do you know what kind of reader I would like to read more? A tall reader. Look, I'm not against short readers, but I also need the reader to be taller than the s/o or the same height. I WOULD LOVE TO READ SOMETHING LIKE THAT.
IM TIRED OF THE CONSTANT DUMBIFICATION OF READER AND MAKING THEM LIKE 18-24 IN THOSE FANFICS I NEED OLDER READER (esp fem reader please i NEED to see more love for older women) X OLDER FICTIONAL MAN WHERE THEYRE BOTH THE SAME AGE PLEASE MAKE THEM ACTUALLY MATURE (also dont be shy MAKE READER OLDER THAN THE MAN‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥)
AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE USE OF "DADDY" GET THAT FAUXCEST BULLSHIT OUTTA MY SIGHT
the smut kinda depends bc i like the more sweet, fluffy, romantic and intimate kind of smut; it's the weird ddlg, fauxcest, dbf and the reader being 18-19 in age gap shit + being "innocent"/hell even dumb... which feels a little... sus... if you think about it hard enough...
★ summary: you call your ex husband when you're drunk.
★ notes: i needed an angsty bruce fic and here we are.
★word count: 2,085
★ warnings: jason's death mentioned. bruce and reader are divorced (this is the biggest tw). reader is drunk.
masterlist
your head was banging── just like the door. you didn't even bother to open it. you just sat on the cold ground of your kitchen. your apartment was colder than usual, or maybe it felt like this to you. it always felt like this these days. you went to work, talked with your friends, they either mocked or ridiculed your grief, you came back home, started drinking, and you called your billionaire ex husband who wore a (really hot) bat costume for leisure time activity.
wait.
you called your billionaire ex husband who wore a bat costume every night.
you really did call him──
"yn" the bang on the door finally made sense. "open the door, please, or else i am going to break it."
you, unintentionally, rolled your eyes. why did you even call him? it must have been the drunkness that had control over your mind. or else why would you call him years after getting a divorce.
because you fucking love him.
you pushed yourself up, while trying you hit your head to the counter. fingers checking your forehead, you made your way to get the door. before opening, you checked if there were any blood on your fingers. there weren't, but you somehow were sure that it was gonna bruise.
when you heard another bang you jumped with your loins, a hand cluthing your already beating fast heart. you opened it to see him, bruce wayne.
"hi, brucie." you said, resting your head on the door. "wanna come in?"
he got in without pushing you aside. as you closed the door, you followed it until you could lean back on it. bruce was looking at you, like you were one of the street freaks he fought every fucking night.
you remember how those nights were when you were married. alone. in bed, waiting for him, sometimes them, to come. your mind would always be clouded with fear, worry and longing. you hated how his side of the bed was always cold.
why did you even got married in the first place? if he was to neglect and leave you alone, why?
you almost asked that outloud.
but it wasnt what messed with your head, not today. today, it was your late son. jason. your baby bird. your precious, golden hearted jay.
he was everything. a glue that held the family together. his death left a hole in you. to this day, it was still open.
"are you okay?" he asked. he was protecting his distance.
"no." you whispered, voice low as tiredness ruled over you. you let your legs collapse, sitting right there. you pushed your head back, hitting the steel of the door.
"stop doing that." bruce kneeled beside you, his hand became a barrier between your head and the door. he held your hair, then his hand cupped your head. "what's wrong? are you drunk..?"
again. the word hanged between you.
was this the first time you called him when you gıt drunk and started thinking about your relationship or jason? no, it wasn't. did he show up everytime? yes. did you shout at him and ask him to leave as if it weren't you to call him? yes, always.
this time, you cried. his eyebrows tightened, frowning sharply. his face said it all, what is wrong, my love?
everything is wrong with me, love.
"bruce," you said between hiccups. "i can't," your breath got stuck in your lungs.
bruce sat next to you, pulled you to his lap and started stroking your hair. "it's okay."
"no!" you yelled. "no, no, no." your voice turned lower each time. "nothing is okay! i am so tired of everything. this city, people, the magazine, my parents, my friends... i- i want everything to be normal." you cried to his chest. "i want jason to be here, with us. i wanted to watch him grow, wanted to be a good mother to him."
you thought about the past, all those moments you've spent with him as a family. those were the moments you felt whole. you and bruce were happy.
"let's get you to bed." he pushed himself up with you. your hands clinged to his chest, holding tightly, as he walked down to your room.
when he entered your room, you felt his breath hitch in his chest. he probably was just surprised by the mess. he had always been a clean man, he was raised like a prince for fuck's sake. you were just messy, especially these days.
he passed all the mess, reached your bed, and put you in with delicate moves. you didn't expect him to sit on your bed and look at you. you didn't say anything. you knew you'd start telling everything if you once talked.
"i know it's hard, yn." his tone was soft, voice was low. "i know that losing a child hurts."
new tears blocked your view as you kept thinking. you pushed yourself to sit, held one of his hands. "i wasn't fair to you." you said. "you held him, carried him, and you were grieving, too, and i kept fighting with you. i ignored your grief as a father and a mentor. i wasn't fair." you kept and kept crying. the drunkness made your mind numb but your tongue was sharp. "i'm really sorry."
"stop apologizing to me." his fingers wiped away a few tears. "and stop thinking that you don't deserve to grieve, even if it's been years. he was precious to you, to me... to us."
dick had been his first child, first adopted kid. but jason? he was yours, both of you. a part of your family that showed you how together you are. and that fucking clown took him.
"i thought we could save his life, make it better. he deserved it, like every children do." your forehead hit his shoulder. you cried, harder every time he stroked your back to calm you. even after there were no tears to spill anymore, you were still mumbling about jay.
bruce helped you lean back. when he was getting up from your bed, you held his hand. "stay with me," you were so gonna regret it. "please."
you heard him sigh and closed your eyes. after a while, you felt a massive body next to you. you felt that peace you used to feel back when you two were still... a thing. happy, married, a family.
you hugged him, your head rested on his chest. you listened to his heartbeat until you fell asleep.
when you woke up, you were welcomed with a massive headache. you didn't leave bed, didn't even pushed your head up to check the time. you just kept your position on bed, alone.
alone.
where was he?
you were so stupid to ask him to stay. what were you even thinking when you suggested that? now, he left you, again, all alone in bed.
he was a busy man, day and night he had his own business going. and you divorced him, you were the one to want that.
you found the strenght to pull yourself out of the bed and went straight to the bathroom. you let the water flow to the sink. then you held your hands under it and threw the water to your face. the cold water hit your face, making your senses come togeter.
you hated being sober.
and you hated yourself for whatever shit you've spilled to him.
why the fuck did you even call him?
you didn't bother cleaning the drops of water on your face with a towel, and left the bathroom. when you stepped out, the smell of coffee hit your nose. the smell of pitch black coffee, one that you'd only smell in the manor.
he was still here.
you sniffed. with slow steps you reached the kitchen. there he was, standing all charming and glorious, your ex husband. he didn't even need to look up to see you.
"morning," he said while doing stuff you couldn't see. "i hope you slept well." he turned to you, there were two cups in his hands. "i made your favorite tea, and myself a cup of coffee. hope you don't mind."
"i... don't. thanks." you muttered and stuttered. you sat down on the table. your hands hugged the cup bruce put before you. "you didn't leave?"
bruce didn't sit. he leaned on the counter. and look hot. you took a hitched breath. "no," he said, "didn't want to leave you like that." there were some words hung up on air. "and... you needed me."
"yeah, i... uh, thank you."
he just shrugged. the ugly silence between you became weird and weird each second. you coldn't look at him but you felt his heavy gaze on you.
"you mentioned your parents and friends yesterday. what about them?"
you knew what he meant but pretended you didn't. and he also knew that you were doing that. sometimes you hated how you both memorized each other.
"look, bruce, they think that... i made some big mistakes. like getting a divorce, moving from a castle to a barrack. my mom's words, not mine. i don't mind them but then, my friend told me that i was overreacting."
"about what?"
"jason." you finally looked at him just to see him frowning. "they think that my grief is overreacting and he is long gone now. she even dared to say that i wasn't his real mother, can you imaine that?" you were shouting now.
"no, i absolutely can't. you were his ma, no matter what others say."
"exactly!" you sipped your tea. "and you were his father. dick was his big brother. we were a family for fuck's sake." you shook your head. "anyways, i told her to shut the fuck up, she told that back, we had a fight as if we were teens, which was embarassing. boss fired me for causing trouble in front of costumers."
"what?"
"yeah... i think i had all the reasons to go wasted." you saw his expressions and knew what he was thinking. "bruce, don't even try to interfere. i am fired, i'll find a new job soon." then you looked at him, really look at him. his outfit. he was wearing an elegant shirt, his pants were ironed sharp, his shoes clean neatly, tie hanging on his neck untied. "were you on a date?"
he stopped mid sipping, looked at you over his cup. he licked his lips as he lowered the cup. "yes."
"you left them and came to me, you idiot?"
"you needed me."
"bruce, what the fuck? that is rude."
"well, i had alfred drive her home."
"that doesn't make it any better." you felt bad... really bad. ever since your break up, you hadn't even flirted with someone let alone dating. you saw him on front pages, bruce wayne caught with a model kind of stories. but those were brucie's cover ups. they were fake. you somehow knew that this was a real one.
"we are not something. dick pushed me into that. wanted me to take a night off, try new things instead of 'moping around'."
"that's even ruder, if you ask me." you saw him uncomfortable, and decided to change the topic. "how's the kid? tim."
you were outraged when you saw that kid. you and bruce had the biggest fight of your relationship. you even slapped him, which was so out of you.
"he's doing fine. he's smart kid. and he knows that you were grieving, if you're curious about that."
"yeah... it wasn't like i didn't want him at home. and you know i don't think you brought him home in place of jason. i shouldn't have fought with you. it made things worse."
deep down,you knew that bruce was agreeing with you. "it's in the past now."
you nodded slowly. your cup was empty now. you headed to the kitchen sink, to leave your cup there. your shoulder brushed bruce's arm. after leaving your cup, you turned around, and leaned in like him. you swallowed, your throat hurt from your silence.
"bruce, i—" he held your hand, pulled you to himself, leaned in, and sealed your lips together. it happened in a second, you couldn't even react.
he was about to pull back when your hand grabbed his neck and pulled him to yourself, deepening the kiss filled with your longings.
"i missed you," he murmured.
"i missed you, too." you kept kissing him. "so much."
