A terrifying archetype of yanderes is the yandere who is essential to others.
Theyโre the backbone. Theyโre the strongest. Theyโre absolutely needed by everyone else. So when they start pursuing their darling, they can be as shameless as they want. Whatโs anyone going to do about it? In everyone elseโs eyes, youโre just a price for their help.
In fact, youโre actively given to them. Everyone is happy to hand you over just because of the benefits they bring.
Itโs bad enough that your obsessor is powerful, making escape already difficult. Itโs an entirely different kind of awful to have everyone push you back to them with a smile.
F/o who knows exactly how intensely they look at you during sex and how much it makes you squirm, but who also redirects your gaze with a firm hand on your chin and an โeyes on meโ when you get shy and try to look away ๐ซฃ
Thinking how someone could spoil you rotten but it's a selfish gesture and they are actually ruining you for anybody else. Giving you anything you need anytime you want. Fussing over you and dressing you up, undressing you too and tucking you in bed, asking in the sweetest voice what do you want from them tonight with their fingers tucked so deep inside you it's hard to come up with a true answer. Having you pretty much be their baby and princess and doll until the point it's a bit objectifying but you've never felt as safe and loved as with them so it's okay
anonymous tip yandere / dark bruce wayne x isekaid!reader headcannons. 18+
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: Batman is a new figure in the Gotham nightlife. Luckily, he keeps getting anonymous tips to help him through the week. Curious of who is giving them, he searches for his biggest fan.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : YANDERE BRUCE. stalking, panty sniffing, cameras, bruce watching you shower, yan!bf bruce towards the end. masturbation. kinda sorta themes of sugar daddy! bruce. somnophilia. rough sex.
๐ก๐๐๐ : very lengthy headcannons. yandere! bruce wayne. might be too similar to my precog!fic but fuck it we ball. dark ! bruce wayne. yearner bruce wayne. isekai'd reader. reader has a batman tattoo. Batman is a new vigilante in this. Most of his villains haven't even shown up. bruce wayne being parasocial af at first.
๐/๐: please pardon my comma addiction. I have similar thoughts about this as i do precog!reader. I see Bruce enlisting your help with Batman activities in both precog! reader and isekai! reader fics, but yan!Bruce would definitely capitalize on you being a batman fan if you were isekai'd. It'd also make him cream his pants.
๐นญ Bruce, who's fresh into being Batman frowning when Alfred hands him a letter that was delivered directly to the manor, its sticker seal already cracked. He hesitates a moment before handing it to Bruce, and that moment of silence carried more than enough weight.
๐นญ Bruce keeps Alfred's moment of hesitation in mind as he cautiously opens the letter, unfolding the crisp edges and examining the script.
๐นญ Bruce, whose eyes widen when the letter addresses him not as Bruce, but Batman. Bruce, who reads on as the letter describes being a fan of his work, of empathizing with his story. Bruce, who sits in the bat-cave, stunned into silence as the letter paints a tale of the upcoming week.
๐นญ Bruce, who slowly sets the letter down onto the table, staring at the page and it's ink while his mind spins.
๐นญ He runs the page through just about every test possible; he dusts for fingerprints, holds up a magnifying glass to look for hair follicles, he searches for everything and anything that would betray who you were.
๐นญ He finds nothing.
๐นญ It's dangerous both for him and you if you knew his secret, and that's the issue at the forefront of his mind.
๐นญ He keeps that letter in it's own special space as he continues on with his week, occasionally sending it curious glances when reminded of it's presence.
๐นญ Bruce, who begins thinking of the letter more and more as the week continues and every described event happens without fail.
๐นญ Bruce, who pulls out that letter and stares at it on Saturday, utterly confused and utterly fascinated by your successful prediction.
๐นญ Bruce, who catalogues your handwriting to a personal file on the bat computer and giving it a special, encrypted section.
๐นญ When he receives the second letter on Monday, Bruce smiles to himself as he finds a singular, half fingerprint on the edge of the page. He reads while the print runs through a database.
๐นญ Bruce, who gets thirty-five matches. He sighs to himself as he tucks away the letter in the same special place he put the first.
๐นญ Bruce, who uses the letter to prepare for the upcoming week and follows your advice to the letter.
๐นญ Bruce, who has the easiest week since he started being Batman, with only you to thank.
๐นญ He starts setting up cameras near his mailbox, starts setting up security measures. They're not to keep you away, but to find out who you are.
๐นญ After three weeks, Bruce opens the Monday letter to read of you talking about things from his past that he made sure no-one knew.
๐นญ His travels around the world, his training, things that he kept from everyone but himself. He reads your little comments pondering what each area was like, if he found the lessons entertaining or boring.
๐นญ He frowns when he reads your ending paragraph. It's an attempt to both motivate and comfort him, describing about how the years ahead will be hard.
๐นญ Bruce, whose file on you grows and the thirty-five matches narrow day by day. He thinks of you more than he doesn't these days. He knows it's wrong, knows it's a bond formed from letters he can't respond to, but he can't help but feel attached.
๐นญ He sometimes traces his gloved thumb over the rare personal anecdotes you leave in your letters. Those get a special place in your file.
๐นญ Bruce, who one day stands in your apartment in the dark, revealed only when you flick the light on.
๐นญ Bruce, who wants to thank you personally for your assistance.
๐นญ Batman, who insists on you continuing your help.
๐นญ "We're good partners, don't you think?"
๐นญ Bruce, who stands a little closer to you than he should as he calls up the Batmobile. Batman's currently nothing but paranoid whispers in Gotham, so he's more than surprised as you gush about working with Batman and walk straight towards the car, rattling off features he had but never used.
๐นญ He's silent the entire drive, but his scowl is softened at the edges as you nervously ramble on about his gadgets, his connections that he didn't have now, but apparently would get. He elects on making a future file on the criminals and vigilantes you talk about as soon as he gets to the bat-cave. It's best to be prepared.
๐นญ When he pulls into the bat-cave, he can't help but smile softly as you grin and look around, amazement clear on your face.
๐นญ He calls Alfred to make you tea, and shares it with you as he carefully redirects the conversation to be less about how cool the batcave is, and more about how the 'rogue gallery' he gets in a few years works.
๐นญ Batman, who types away at a file as you chatter off everything you know about the criminals, ranging from The Joker, to Two-Face, and Bane.
๐นญ His brows furrow as you talk about Talia and Catwoman, unable to see himself interested in them, not when you were around.
๐นญ You, who slowly realize you're changing the future.
๐นญ You, who can't help but agree to answer any question Bruce asks, just because he was your favorite.
๐นญ Once he has a sizeable file on his future rogues and alliances filled with gigabytes of contingency plans, he begins asking questions about you.
๐นญ You, who is thrown off at his interest.
๐นญ Bruce, who watches with amusement as you fluster when he asks anything about you. Bruce, who adds anything and everything about you to your encrypted file as soon as you head to bed.
๐นญ The same file gets a special area for pictures of you, as well. Some of you sleeping, some of you smiling at a dry joke Bruce made or thanking Alfred for dinner with a grateful expression.
๐นญ Pictures that turn into ones of you showering, ones of you changing clothes.
๐นญ Bruce, who sits at the Batcomputer and fists his hardened cock when he sees your batman tattoo, dizzy with arousal.
๐นญ Bruce, who makes sure you get whatever you want whenever you want, as long as you stay by his side.
๐นญ Bruce, who ends up moving your things from your old apartment to a room in the manor, saying he had more than enough room.
๐นญ Bruce, who sometimes sneaks to your laundry before Alfred can get to it, and when he gets to the privacy of his room, holds your underwear to his nose and huffs your scent until his head spins.
๐นญ Bruce, who ends up confessing to Alfred that he doesn't know what he'd be like without you.
๐นญ Bruce who gets a little more touchy than usual when you're nearby, his hands resting on your shoulders, his chest pressing against your back to help you reach something in the kitchen.
๐นญ Bruce, who teaches you how to patch him up after missions, and refuses to allow Alfred to do it once you learn.
๐นญ When you kneel in front of him to patch up a wound on his stomach, all thoughts of pain leave his mind. That image of you with your head between his legs gets imprinted in his mind and refuses to leave.
๐นญ You choking on his cock becoming a regular, guilty fantasy.
๐นญ You, who respond to Bruce's affections positively, prompting him to get more confident. He's Batman, your favorite superhero, you've crushed on him for years. And now he's real, he's real and in front of you and he's flirting with you.
๐นญ Bruce, who abandons his playboy lifestyle in favor of a smitten boyfriend as soon as you two start dating.
๐นญ Bruce, who makes sure cameras catch you on dates, makes sure the Gotham news is filled with images and pages of you two together.
๐นญ Batman, who puts together no less than seven thousand words of contingency plans for every possibility of you trying to leave him. Eight thousand for if you find out about his file.
๐นญ The encrypted file becoming filled with notes about you, ranging from your favorite food to the fact you complained about lint on your shirt on a forgettable Tuesday.
๐นญ Bruce, who takes advantage of the fact that you're dating to bribe you for affection. You want something? Come sit in his lap, sweetheart, he needs a bit of convincing.
๐นญ Bruce, who insists you sleep in the same bed as him a little too early.
๐นญ You, who end up sleeping wound up so tight in Bruce's arms that you couldn't move.
๐นญ Bruce, who destresses after harsh nights as Batman by laying his head in your lap and squeezing your thighs.
๐นญ Bruce, who sometimes waits until you're asleep to drift his hands a little lower, grazing the insides of your thighs and the underneath of your sleep shirt.
๐นญ Bruce, who slips his hand beneath your underwear and has to hump the bed when you whine in your sleep.
๐นญ Bruce, who fucks you at least once a day as soon as you allow him to. He can't help but want you, your touch just lights him on fire. You make him feel things he can't control.
๐นญ Bruce who will press your head into the bed and push your legs over his shoulders, pressing his thick cock into you until you're gasping his name. Each gasp, each stuttered moan of his name makes his heart race and head spin. It only goads him to go harder.
๐นญ Bruce, who loves licking and sucking hickeys onto the batman tattoo as you whine.
๐นญ Bruce, who fucks you as hard as he can on his days off, or days he's benched just so you can't walk and have to spend the day cuddling him in bed.
๐นญ As his rogue gallery starts showing up, you take up a position similar to Oracle. You're Batman's first guy-in-the-chair, your voice cheering him on and guiding him through what to do and what might happen. You're unable to help with much else, but Bruce doesn't mind. Hearing your voice keeps him motivated to get home to you.
๐นญ The first time Batman laughs quietly in the field is to one of your half-hearted jokes.
๐นญ Bruce, who loves his biggest fan a little too much.
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: frank is only human. years upon years of broken bones, strained muscles, and wounds has given him a constant, painful ache in every inch of his being. an ache that your simple touch manages to relieve.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : mutant hate (not from frank). no other warnings really.
๐ก๐๐๐ : mutant! reader. established relationship (you're either close friends or lovers in this). frank castle with chronic pain. hurt / comfort.
Frank didn't usually complain, but you can tell he was hurting just by watching him. When he stood up from the couch his posture was stiff and he'd disguise a limp for the first five steps. When he bent over, it was with a stifled groan through grit teeth. Some days were worse than others, but Frank never spoke of the burden, never wanted to rest it on your shoulders. Perhaps he thought you didn't care, or it wasn't worth even caring about, but you noticed and you watched and you debated with yourself.
You had the ability to fix it, at least for a few moments. You could wrap your hand around his, close your eyes, and all his pain would fade for as long as you held him. For as long as you could remember, you had that ability. You used to use it for your old dog, who groaned and limped when it got up from the couch. Who was so stiff he spent most of his time laying in the sun, warming its fur. One of your earliest memories was fisting your small hands into its pelt and watching as that eternal stiffness loosened and allowed him a few pleasant minutes of sleep.
You could do the opposite, too. You could focus a feeling of hatred and just brush by and whoever you touched would drop to the floor as if they were punched. You weren't really proud of it, but you used to use it at school when the boys would throw mulch at you at recess and call you weird. All you had to do was graze your hand by theirs, brush your shoulders with theirs, and then they'd drop to the floor crying.
When you graduated elementary, you were old enough to know you shouldn't do it anymore. Knew that your abilities, your mutations weren't something people liked. When you'd sit by the old TV in your living room, your mom would hastily change the channel whenever the news popped up. More often than not, it was about violence against people like you.
You stopped using it by the time you reached highschool, but the knowledge of what you could do if you just allowed yourself to do it lingered in the back of your mind in every waking moment.
Frank was a friend of yours, you knew his biggest secret, but he didn't know yours. He didn't know that you could make it all go away just for a little while.
You were scared that, should he find out you were different, he'd turn the same gun he used on the worst society had to offer and use it on you.
But he was hurting.
It was a rainy day when Frank sat beside you on the couch, his face pinching when he sunk into the cushion, and slowly relaxing as he let up the weight on his muscles and joints. His face was a little pale, maybe today was a worse day than usual.
Steeling your resolve, you inched your hand towards his. "Frank?"
"Yeah, princess?" He murmurs, voice a little rough. He looks away from the small TV playing the news on a grainy feed and meets your eyes. Immediately, he clocks your nervousness with the skill of someone who made people squirm for a living. He shifted his weight, turning towards you to give you his whole attention.
"Can I.. try somethin?" You ask, hand inching a bit further towards his. Your hesitant approach stops when he looks down to your hand, then back up at you. He thinks for a moment, then nods, electing to trust you.
"Just.. take my hand for a moment," you murmur, already resting your hand on top of his. Slowly, gently, his thick, rough fingers curl around yours, capturing it into his calloused palm.
You close your eyes, and focus. It's been so long since you've done this that you weren't even sure that you could - -
Frank groans. It's a shuddering, fragile noise pulled from his chest as if yanked out before he even realized it was coming. When you open your eyes it's to see Frank melting into the couch, lips parted and eyes half lidded. You watch as his skin flushes and loses that clammy quality and sickly paleness. You watch as the pain leaves every inch of his body like hot steam vaporizing in the air.
"Shhhit," Frank slurs, resting his brow on the back cushion. His breathing turns a little uneven, but when you begin to pull your hand back, his other hand joins the first, holding you in place. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop." He breathily demands, his fingers squeezing yours. A drowning man clutching a life raft.
"Is it okay?" You anxiously murmur. Frank laughs.
"More than okay, princess, fuck, how're you doin' that?" He murmurs, hands pulling yours, moving you closer, closer, closer, until you're almost in his lap. His head bows until it rests on your shoulder.
Slowly you pull your hand from his grip, and before he can protest you move it into his hair. Frank sighs quietly and shifts closer, melting into your arms. "Does it matter?" You muse fondly.
Frank pauses. "We'll talk about it later."
"Deal."
๐ฆ๐พ๐๐บ๐ ๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐ฑ๐๐๐๐บ / ๐ณ๐๐พ ๐ถ๐๐๐๐พ ๐ถ๐๐ ๐ฟ
โณ part of us. | DARK / YANDERE FIC. light somno, baby trapping, stalking.
summary: You've been a part of Geralt and Yen's hot and cold relationship for so long that, when they imagine the other, you're usually there, too.
๐ธ๐พ๐๐๐พ๐ฟ๐พ๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐ต๐พ๐๐๐พ๐๐ป๐พ๐๐
โณ part of us. | DARK / YANDERE FIC. light somno, baby trapping, stalking.
summary: You've been a part of Geralt and Yen's hot and cold relationship for so long that, when they imagine the other, you're usually there, too.
18+ | Part of us. dark! yandere! yennefer of vengerberg & geralt of rivia x reader headcannons.
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: You've been a part of Geralt and Yen's hot and cold relationship for so long that, when they imagine the other, you're usually there, too.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : magical trackers / stalking, baby trapping with ciri, cheating / breaking up and getting back together. Geralt being scared of commitment. third wheeling. light somnophilia. geralt and yen fighting for custody of their third wheel. mentions of sex / hickeys / making out. nonconsensual voyeurism.
๐ก๐๐๐ : dark / yandere! geralt of rivia and yennefer of vengerberg. gender neutral reader.
๐/๐: My usual stuff is marvel / dc but I do in fact love witcher, too. this is inspired by the books / games / comics rather than the show but show enjoyers can read this too.
๐นญ Originally, you're the biggest third (fourth when dandelion is around) wheel ever. You try to go do your own thing and one of them usually conveniently shows up to steal your attention, dragging you around with whatever task they're trying to perform.
๐นญ Yen gifts you a necklace very early on that is made of beautiful gemstones, velvets, and diamonds. She tells you that it will let you keep a piece of her with you always. It's a sweet gesture, but Yen didn't really gift it to you just for you. It's enchanted with a complex tracker, allowing Yen to home in on your location whenever she pleased. Unable to sense magic, you're none the wiser.
๐นญ Geralt doesn't have complex magics under his control, so Yen gifts him a similar necklace that both keeps track of his location and lets him keep track of yours. He just thinks it's your tracker and only finds out it also tracks him a few years later. He's not really happy about it but decides to make a sacrifice to keep it just so he knows where you are.
๐นญ Yen likes to show up in whatever town you're in to make sure you're fed and cared for. She likes treating you to expensive meals you can't usually buy and insists on feeding you. When you don't let her, she critiques the 'barbaric methods' in which you eat until you give in and let her do it for you. Eventually it becomes so commonplace for her to feed you that you don't even try to feed yourself, something Yen is very satisfied with.
๐นญ Geralt is more of a distant participant in your care; he likes to kill every monster in a ten-mile radius of your present location to make sure you never go under threat. He gets to bring the monster heads back and at times gets paid for it if there was a contract out, but he makes sure you know it was for you when he comes back to the inn, covered in blood and stinking of sweat, horse, and monster bile.
๐นญ Geralt, who pouts until you bathe him in the inn to show your appreciation for keeping you safe.
๐นญ Yen, who always buys one bed for the three of you and insists that you have to share.
๐นญ You, who gets smushed between a witcher and a sorceress more often than is particularly pleasant.
๐นญ You, who often wake up to Geralt and Yennefer making out right beside you, uncaring of your presence as they caress one another and suck hickeys into each other's throats.
๐นญ You, who eventually get so used to it that you just roll over and go back to sleep.
๐นญ Geralt and Yennefer, who start to have sex right beside you, moaning loud and whispering declarations of love and dedication.
๐นญ You, who gets used to that, too.
๐นญ Geralt and Yennefer, who start realizing that when they think of their relationship, its not just them. It's them and you, too.
๐นญ Geralt and Yennefer, who start caressing your waist and your thighs when you sleep.
๐นญ You, who have to deal with their frequent fights and break-ups. When Geralt disappears out the window in the middle of the night with a note calling Yennefer his dear friend, Yen complains to you for three hours and expects you to agree with every comment and insult she has.
๐นญ When Yen starts bringing other men around, you end up in the woods with Geralt, who doesn't complain like Yennefer did but has an eternal look of a kicked puppy, which is just as bad.
๐นญ Geralt and Yennefer, who start fighting over who gets to keep you when they're separated.
๐นญ Geralt and Yennefer, who get back together a week later and it's like nothing ever happened.
๐นญ Geralt and Yennefer, who get Ciri and expect you to care for her, too.
๐นญ Geralt, who asks your opinion on what to do with Ciri. Geralt, who gets sad when you try to uninvolve yourself in their shared parenting.
๐นญ Yennefer, who tells you that you're just as much of a parent to Ciri as she and Geralt, and that you need to step up.
๐นญ Geralt and Yennefer, who use Ciri to keep you with them.
๐นญ You, who feel empty and lost when they disappear with the wild hunt. It's the first time in decades since you've been apart. You always had at least one of them by your side, and now with both of them gone, you don't know what to do.
I was thinking about why I liked yanderes so much, and I came to the realisation that I really enjoy the horror/thriller aspects of them. So thatโs what Iโm going for in this series!
Iโve always been a huge fan of anything horror; books, films, games, etc. and I just really like the idea of being chased in the dark by a obsessed and deranged guy who would do anything for me โ๏ธ๐
thinking about Tony making NOAH clip the surveillance footage every time you willingly show him affectionโฆor maybe having scheduled calls with you through NOAH no matter where you are in the house so you donโt miss them
hello freaks of yandere tony stark. somehow im terrified that my asks have gotten so derailed that someone else on the internet has referenced a very niche concept that had previously been brewing in my head for ages with no one else that knows about it. so. wow im so happy we have people on the yandere tony stark train.
YES. 100 times over, yes, tony clips everything. you know billionaires love surveillance? well tony doesn't really care about the rest of the world, he'll have jarvis shift through that for dangers, but NOAH is specifically for your surveillance. So without further ado, here is a list of mp4s in the โher folderโ on Tonyโs secure drive.ย
The first time you sniffled into his hand when he hugged you. Itโs the closest (at that point in time) that he had of you hugging you back
When you snuggled into your pillow in your sleep during the third night after crying yourself to sleep.
When he forced you to sit on his lap during movie night, the fifth night in you didnโt immediately move your face from his hand when he tucked your hair behind your ear.
The first time you leaned your head to his chest when he was cuddling you (manhandling you into cuddles)
The first time you asked him for something (it was a book you wanted to read), and he made you say โuhm, p-please, tony?โ
A list of his favorite times you said โTonyโ. He jerks off to it in the lab some evenings.ย
When Tony left to grab some supplies and last minute groceries for something and you anxiously searched the entire house, calling out his name and freaking out that he left you there. (this one actually made him bricked when NOAH played the surveillance through his phone at the Trader Joes. just you, wandering around, about to tear up at every empty corner while you called out tony).ย
You in his clothes for the first time, falling asleep.ย
When you slept on the couch after dinner, and he decided to move you to the bed and you snuggled into his arms as he lifted you
The first time you kissed him on the cheek after you negotiated him into getting you something else to pass time. (You asked if you could start a vinyl collect, with headphones to listen to them with. More books, maybe? Magazines? Perhaps puzzles?) he told you to come settle in his lap for a while and give him a kiss to think about it with. And you did. You slowly crawled into his inviting lap, shuffling until you got comfortable and laid your head on his shoulder. Then once he said โmy kiss, baby?โ, you slowly raised your lips to his scruffy cheek and pressed a quick kiss. Tony sighed like he was weightless.ย
Tony has the first time he kissed up your neck, every time you squirmed and grasped his face trying to push him away. You whimpered, and it got him so hard he physically felt all the blood drain from his head. He groaned into your collarbone, hands feeling up your shirt until you cried trying to push him off. That one he routinely watches
The first time you got excited at something. Your book made some plot twist that made you jump up from your reading nook and pace around the room. You were so immersed you barely reacted to him hugging behind your back, quickly reading to the last line in the page and then making a shocked expression at tony, and then pointing to the last line in your book, trying to animate and explain everything that happened. It was the first time you openly laughed.ย
The first time you two cuddled after you had a bad nightmare of being terrorized by some foe of iron man, and you were so scared and shaking that you fell into his arms and cried about everything that scared you in the nightmare, up until your eye ran dry and red.ย
Once, you grabbed his hand to point him to something that had been bothering you at home, and tony genuinely got butterflies the second your soft hands held his. (perhaps a little hard too, but you didnโt need to know that).ย
The first time you WILLINGLY hugged him after he had to be gone the whole day on official business. He enforces hugs 24/7 now. Goodbye hug. Welcoming hug. All the time in between. (and of course, sometimes he catches your face and kisses you breathless while you cantโ move your head away)
He introduces you to Pepper (who knows you exist but she wonโt do anything because you keep Tony sane. If she took you away, heโd go beserk), and you hide behind his arm and entire time. You barely can stand being in the room without him, you follow him from place to place. You hold his arm, your fingers nervously squeezing the hard muscle. Even in the following days after, you seemed closer than usual, wanting to hold onto him, fighting no affection from him at all. It was pure bliss.ย
(He started fantasizing about introducing you to the avengers after that and getting you all nervous and clingy again.)
He has that one time you cried after he fingered you, and you wanted to curl up in his chest. Of course, he let you, grinning like a mad man and kissing you all over while you sniffled into his arc reactor and held you hands around his neck.ย
Ok starfish tired sheโs going sleep now. goodnight !!
bat-magnet. dark! kate kane & bruce wayne x fem!reader headcannons.
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: Your life has gotten ten times more interesting once you learned that Batman and Batwoman have been fighting in the shadows for your attention. It's also gotten both ten times more annoying, and ten times more dangerous.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : possessive behavior. stalking. breaking and entering. obsessive behavior. bats watching you sleep. general creepy behavior. mention of drugged drinks.
๐ก๐๐๐ : both of them are final boss yearners. dark! kate kane & bruce wayne.
๐/๐: need them to fight over me omfg..s.g......gg.g....
โพ You don't know how long exactly they'd been watching you, been fighting over you, but you assume it started about a week ago.
โพ A week ago, when you were held at gunpoint by three armed men, asking for your purse. Typical Gotham. What wasn't typical was when Batwoman dropped from a rooftop directly on top of one man, and Batman emerged from shadow itself to deliver a punch to the man who had you at gunpoint with enough force that the man spat out three teeth once he hit the concrete.
โพ Once the group was dealt with, you thanked them both politely as they glowered at one another and walked away before they could speak.
โพ You don't know what exactly was said after you left, but you had a gut feeling that you had two pairs of eyes on you all the way home.
โพ After that, every time you got into trouble either Batman or Batwoman appeared within the minute to act as your savior. Sometimes, they appeared together, and each time the look they sent the other were particularly sour.
โพ Your friends start calling you the bat-magnet. You're the only one who didn't think the joke was funny.
โพ For the third time this week Batwoman emerges from the shadows to frighten away some suspicious folk, her clawed glove landing on your shoulder in a claiming grip. She says your name with a droplet of fondness in what was an otherwise stern voice. You never told her your name.
โพ "Getting into trouble again?"
โพ It was your first time speaking to one of them. You couldn't help but feel like she was smug because of it. Like she felt she had a hold over her male counterpart.
โพ Uninvited, Batwoman walked through the streets at your side.
โพ "Making sure you don't get into any trouble," she says when you ask.
โพ By the time you reach your front door and unlock it, you turn back around to see her gone as if she was never there.
โพ Around a week later, you start seeing things moved in your apartment. A TV remote shifted to the left instead of the right. A picture of you and your friends missing dust along the side. You wouldn't have even noticed it if it wasn't for the near eternal feeling of paranoia that had blossomed in your hindbrain.
โพ They were inside. You knew only because they wanted you to know. Wanted you to know that they were watching you, guarding you. Both Batman and Batwoman were shadow incarnate, they could appear and disappear without a trace. They left these little hints on purpose.
โพ It started with moved objects, then as days past they seemed to grow bolder. hungrier. Perhaps you were a heavy sleeper, or perhaps the water you drank before bed tasted a little too funny in a way that wasn't just heavily filtered Gotham tap-water.
โพ In rare moments while you slept, you swore you felt clawed gloves trace along your cheek. If this was either Batman or Batwoman, you couldn't tell.
โพ In even rarer moments you'd wake up to harsh whispers, hushed arguments. It was so quiet you'd never make out what they were saying before sleep took you again.
โพ Only once did you wake up and look into the bathroom mirror to see red lipstick printed on your forehead; a claiming brand.
โพ And only once, the night after, did you smell expensive cologne on your pajamas when you woke up.
โพ They were challenging one another, putting a claim on you like you were a prize, something to be won, to be owned. Batman would leave a black bat-arang on your nightstand, and Batwoman would take it one step further and leave a red bat-arang on your pillow. When one did a simple act, the other pushed it further.
โพ Clothes started showing up in your closet; a black cocktail dress, not your size nor your style. A black silk tie, made of fabric so expensive it'd likely be able to buy you a new apartment should you sell it. You didn't, you knew he wouldn't like it if you did.
โพ Sometimes, when you made a passing comment to yourself in the safety of your home, either a complaint about a squeaky door, or a curse at your competitive stalkers, you'd get a ping on your phone from an unnamed number, replying to what you said. When you asked them to stop, to leave you alone, to lose your number, or even who the hell they were, they never replied. At times, who you thought was Batwoman would send a singular red heart.
โพYour pantry and your fridge start being filled with expensive, organic foods you know you didn't buy. Your security system, formerly a non-Gotham brand, is replaced by top-of-the-line Wayne-Tech systems.
โพ On Arkham breakouts, your front door and your windows locks and do not open until it's over.
โพ Word starts going around, you get more attention from criminals who start calling you the same thing your friends called you, except far more seriously.
โพ "Bat magnet."
โพ Wherever you were, Batman and Batwoman were never too far behind. They circled you like vultures over carrion, eager for a bite. You were the perfect bait. You knew this, the bats knew this, and most importantly, the criminals of Gotham knew it, too.
โพ It was only a matter of time before either of them made a move.
one step ahead. yandere bruce wayne x procog!reader headcannons.
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: every move Bruce makes, you're aware of it before he even goes through with it. How? You're driving him crazier than you already do. The cameras in your room? turned just out of frame. the tracker he put in the sole of your shoes? you buy a new favorite pair the next day. Batman is fighting to be one step ahead of a civilian, and he's never been more in love.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : yandere/dark bruce wayne. obsessive behavior. stalking. cameras. trackers. paranoid bruce behavior. possessive behavior. slightly crazy bruce wayne.
๐ก๐๐๐ : reader with precognition. dark fic. headcannons. reader is a willing darling.
๐/๐: yandere bruce with a reader that was always one step ahead has been rotating in my mind for so so long. it'd drive him crazy. im also on a batman fix so expect more. i also love the concept of precognition so expect more of that too. ive got like 16 drafts rn and they're all bullshit.
โช New in his fascination, Batman planted a tracker onto your shirt to find out where you lived. You walked in circles for three hours before finally going home, leaving Bruce sitting at the bat-computer staring at the red line of your path with utter confusion.
โช Did you know? If you knew, why didn't you remove the tracker? Why did you let him figure out where you lived if you knew? You couldn't know, could you?
โช Curiosity piqued, two days later Bruce finds the time to slip inside your apartment, his figure pure shadow as he looks around, clawed gloves prodding at items and keepsakes. He takes care to always leave them back exactly where they were, and to not disturb the dustier items. He could be in and out of a government building without so much as a trace, there was no way in the world that you would notice he was here.
โช The next time he breaks in, this time to plant cameras, you're sleeping on the couch, the TV playing something on low volume.
โช He prowls around the side of the couch to stand by the arm, casting a shadow over your sleeping form as he listened to your steady breathing. The sound both settled him and made something ugly in his chest twist. He wanted to touch, wanted to hold, wanted to sink his claws and teeth in until you were stuck so thoroughly against him that you'd never be apart.
โช In. Out. In. Out. Then, it shifted, just barely. You were waking up.
โช Bruce was out the window by the time you opened your eyes. He would plant the cameras later. Quietly, he cursed the loss of the opportunity.
โช He didn't let that stop him. While you busied yourself with outside hobbies, groceries, and the like, Batman was slipping back into your home and setting up sleek black cameras in spots he assumed you didn't frequent.
โช For three days you carried on with your usual tasks, and Bruce silently preened at the assumed victory. On the third day, you glanced at a camera and smiled. The interaction lasted half a second, but it caused Bruce's heart to beat out of his chest.
โช So you knew. But again, why not do anything about it? He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. It was either clutch you against his chest and never let go or be chained up in Arkham right beside the Joker. He needed this, he couldn't lose this. Something about you settled a part of him that was all sharp edges and jagged lines. Something about you made him feel alive and made him think in ways he never did before.
โช Two months passed of the most intriguing interactions Batman ever had before. Every move he made, you either knew about it and allowed it to happen or knew about it and made an attempt to prevent it, an attempt that usually succeeded.
โช It was when Bruce stood at a dead end in an alley, looking at a tossed tracker that used to be in your shoe he decided to forgo the subterfuge. If he was right in assuming that you somehow, someway, knew what he was going to do before he did it, why try hiding it?
โช He made a beeline for your apartment. The locked window he usually went through was cracked, letting in cool night air. Letting in the Bat.
โช You were sleeping sweetly in bed, and right by the edge was a packed suitcase.
โช Batman smiled and prepared the syringe. Both of you knew it was time for you to come home.
first date. ororo munroe x reader headcannons / drabble.
๐ก๐๐๐ : literally my first ororo fic (like many other characters im writing rn) so it might be ooc. first date. first kiss. fluff. friends to lovers. love confessions.
โช Ororo was a good friend of yours, someone that has been by your side for years, acting as stable land whenever the world felt like it was tilted sideways. Whenever something happened in your life, Ororo was the first person you went to for advice. She always had a bounty of wisdom she happily shared with you, usually at your house, where you shared dinner, talked, and joked for hours. On a cloudy evening in May, it takes one lull in conversation for Ororo to make her decision on courting you.
โช "Have dinner with me." She says, then tells you of a fancy, high-end restaurant a few miles down the road. You're nervous, but this is your best friend, why wouldn't you accept. When you nod your agreement, her eyes squint and her lips tilt upwards. She's pleased.
โช Two days later you end up at the restaurant, sitting across from Ororo and drinking white wine. She's dressed in a beautiful silk black dress with a slit on the thigh, her hair flowing down her back. Gorgeous, she looks gorgeous, and you make sure to tell her such.
โช She gives you that same smile, one which radiated approval. A part of you thinks you're being tested, and for the rest of the dinner that thought lurks in the back of your mind.
โช Once you complete dinner, Ororo sneaks her hand around your waist in the parking lot and pulls you into her side, giving you a soft smile and a quiet "Trust me."
โช She lifts into the air, flying higher and higher until the city below you looks like a multitude of ants. The horizon stretches on for miles, the sun beginning to set over towering skyscrapers and billboards and painting the sky in vibrant colors. It's the prettiest sunset you had seen in years, and that sky paints the background of your flight.
โช "It's a little too busy here, isn't it, my dear?" She says, carrying you to a nearby field, where the grass was long and rustled in the wind like the waves of an ocean. She sits you on the grass and finds a place at your side, laying back and pointing at the sky.
"Would you watch the stars with me?" Ororo asks, her fingertip pointed skywards. You tilt your head upwards but see nothing but a cloudy sky. You had no complaints; the sky was a deep indigo, blotched out with darker purple clouds that faded out towards the horizon, which turned a vibrant pink the closer the sky got to the sun. As you look, you swear you see a cloud turn into the shape of a heart before merging into a larger cloud, gone before you knew it.
"A little too cloudy to watch the stars," you say breathlessly, watching the sky as the sun finally disappears over the horizon with a farewell chorus of crickets and cicadas. This is already more than you could ever ask for.
"Is it?" Ororo smugly murmurs from your side. Her outstretched finger makes a semi-circle in the air, and you watch with amazement as the clouds part right above your heads, leaving nothing but the clearest night sky you had ever seen, speckled with millions of white stars and distant galaxies.
"Roro..." you murmur, stunned to silence. A gentle breeze kisses your cheeks and rustles the long grass that acted as a soft blanket below you. An owl hoots in the distance, and soon after the dark land around you is lit up with a show of fireflies.
You're too focused on your environment that you hardly feel Ororo's hand finding yours in the grass, wrapping her fingers around yours. The two of you are silent for a long, peaceful moment.
Ororo breaks it, her voice calm and composed yet slightly tight with nervousness at the edges. "I would like for you to be my lover." She murmurs, voice almost drowned out by a gale of gentle, cool wind.
You pause. This wasn't a dinner between friends, was it? This was a date. Your cheeks burn, and you find yourself nodding. "I'd.. I'd love that, Roro."
Something tense and nervous in Ororo's posture settles, and the grass shifts as she sits up, her free hand finding your cheek to tilt your head towards her.
You had never seen a woman so beautiful. Her white hair painted slightly purple from the night sky, spilling down her shoulders and framing both of your faces. Her face, gentle and pleased neared yours.
Her lips pressed against yours once, gentle, featherlight, hardly able to be felt. Then, firmer. She sighs quietly as she situates herself more solidly above you, her lips working against yours.
You're both breathless when you part.
"I will cherish you," Ororo murmurs, her finger trailing down the slope of your cheek. "I will cherish you as the moon cherishes the stars. The sun cherishes the gentle breeze."
She leans in once more, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, the corner of your lips, then the tip of your nose.
What a wonderful first date.
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: your meet-cute with Frank Castle goes a little different than the stereotypical romance novels.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : violence / gore descriptors, descriptions of vomit. sexual harassment (not from frank), gun violence.
๐ก๐๐๐ : frank can be nice sometimes. murder spree turned dinner date. cooking the punisher dinner as a thank you.
You had a guilty pleasure that no-one really knew about. Some people liked a specific snack, some a certain TV show, but you..? You liked romance books. It didn't matter what kind - every Friday you'd go to the bookstore, rent a book, and spend the weekend reading it to return it on Monday before work.
Through said romance books an idea was planted into your mind; a 'meet-cute'. In the books, the main character would meet someone in a funny or endearing way, and it'd bloom into a passionate, whirlwind romance. Secretly, you wanted that for yourself. It hung above your head like a forbidden fruit, an apple you couldn't eat despite wishing oh-so-dearly to be able to.
When Friday came you got another book and your peaceful weekend was spent curled up on the couch, flicking through its pages and getting lost in your imagination. The weekend passed by fast enough that by the time Monday came and your alarm went off for work, calling in sick passed by your mind no less than three times.
Duty called, however. You got up, got dressed, and gathered your books to venture to the bookstore to return it.
It was a nice day in New York. The sun was warm, but there was a cool wind that made sure it didn't get too hot. In typical New York fashion, cars blared their horns on the nearby road, people played music on the sidewalk, and your trek to the bookstore was filled with song and an accompanying whistle and rustle of the breeze through specifically spaced trees.
It took ten minutes for something to ruin it.
"Hey, sexy!" A man calls out from an alleyway, smelling of booze and drugs even at such a distance. "Get your cute little ass over here, how much for a night?"
You ignore him, walking a little faster in the hopes that the man would grow disinterested. Your jaw flexed and your teeth ground down onto one another, eyes flicking from him in the alley, to the near empty sidewalk that marked the path to the bookstore. You needed to walk by him in order to get there, so if you were fast enough you could - -
A tight, vice-like grip bruises your forearm. It's the man, yanking you into the alley and clamping a sweaty hand over your mouth, pinning you to the brick wall of a nearby building. He isn't alone, surrounded by a group of two more men who looked at you like they were starving dogs, and you, a steak.
"I said, sweetheart.." The man with his hand clamped over your mouth leaned forwards, smiling predatorily. "How much for a night?"
One of your hands press against his chest, the other wrapping around the wrist of the hand he used to cover your mouth, trying to push him away.
"Oh, no, sugar, none of that," Another man purred, leaning his shoulder to the wall and taking up your left side. His hands grabbed your wrists, lifting them above your head with ease.
The first man leaned forwards, mouth open to say something.
It was strange for lightning to strike and thunder to roll on a clear, sunny day, but there was little else your panicked mind could process the noise as. It was a loud, thundering bang that rang out in the streets, accompanied by a 'pop'.
The man's head exploded, spraying you and the two other men in a fountain of blood, bone, and brain matter. The man holding your arms immediately screamed, retched bile, and turned to run.
Thunder rolls. The man crumples to the ground, clutching his knee and wailing. He looks up to the mouth of the alley, eyes wild, only for his head to hit the ground as if knocked down by a mallet. The third man pulls out a knife from his pocket, flicking it open with a 'skt'. He runs towards the mouth of the alley, looking for a fight.
Lightning strikes first. Theres no accompanying scream, just a gurgle.
You look at your hands. At your shirt. Both are stained with blood. Blood is all you see, but inside that blood is chunks. Chunks of what used to be a man, now a headless body slumped against your feet. You're surrounded by corpses, by blood and brain matter and what was that thunder?!
You bend over and vomit. You retch, your dinner last night spilling from your mouth and onto the blood-soaked shirt of the body leaning against your feet. The whole alley smelled of pennies and acid - the smell was so overwhelming that as soon as you took in a shuddering inhale, the muscles of your stomach contracted and you were retching all over again.
Something warm pressed into your back, right between your shoulder-blades. It was warm, heavy-handed, but with the purposeful effort of being gentle. It didn't evoke the same skin-crawling feeling of the hands of those now dead men. "You alright?"
You look up just in time to see his free hand holster a gun, and immediately after come eye to eye with a pale, sickly white skull on a black background. You don't even have to look at the man's face to know who this is, this is the Punisher. You never thought you'd meet him, and even then, you never thought you'd meet him like this. You alright, he asks. The question is almost laughable. You've just puked all over a dead body that was slumped on top of your feet, your entire front was covered in blood and brain matter, and you just watched three men die. Your panicked mind, frantic with adrenaline, stumbles over a dozen and one responses that ranged from 'oh god help me he's going to kill me too', to 'im going to be sick again don't look down god please help me holy shit'.
Instead, what comes out of your mouth is; "hhunnnngryyy?"
The resulting silence between you two is easily likened to the silence of the corpses at your feet. You internally kick yourself. Stupid. Stupid stupid. You weren't thinking right, brain overloaded with adrenaline and fear. As you lean up a bit further to both avoid the sight of the gore at your feet and compose yourself, the hand at your back slips away.
Before you could stutter out an apology and internally curse yourself for the embarrassment, the Punisher replies.
"I could eat."
The Punisher just accepted your invitation to dinner. You didn't want this. Did you? You wanted to puke again.
You end up leading Frank Castle back to your house, offering him some coffee while you clean yourself up. He makes no effort to hide the fact he's looking around your home, but is polite enough to stay in the living room while you change.
He's sitting on the couch when you finish, legs spread and drinking from one of your coffee mugs.
"So.. uh.. what do you want to eat..?" You ask nervously, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
"What were you gonna make?" Frank turns his head, looking at you from over the back of the couch. You pause for a second, mind scrambling to remember what you were going to make this evening.
"Pasta..?"
He nods. You walk to the kitchen. A half hour later you end up sitting across your dinner table with the Punisher, who pointedly placed his gun beside his bowl of pasta in complete silence. You wipe your sweaty hands on your pants and begin eating. He lets you eat the first bite before scooping a fork-full into his mouth, pausing while he assessed the flavor.
You sigh in relief when he scoops another fork-full into his mouth to begin to eat in earnest. It is strange knowledge to know that the Punisher liked your cooking. The first few minutes of the meal is filled with silence, enough for you to move your nervous gaze from him to your own bowl of pasta.
It doesn't stay quiet for long. "What's your name?" Frank murmurs, his stare drilling into your head. He had a certain tone to his voice, his rough grumble filled with a vague, barely identifiable note of intrigue. You tell him your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself.
The rest of the dinner passes in silence. Once he finishes, he stands up with a scrape of his chair on the floor. You try not to flinch. He grabs his gun from the top of the table, holsters it, and heads for the door.
"Thanks for the food. I'll be back."
When you go to sleep that night, you realize three things. One: you missed work. Two: you finally had your meet-cute.
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: Bruce has become accustomed to harsh cruelty. To the sting of a cut, the burn of a bruise, of the ache of his muscles after a hard night of protecting Gotham. Even the people in his life had hard edges; lean muscles and jaded personalities. Everyone except you, who was all soft edges and gentle touches. He needed you more than he liked to admit.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : possessive behavior. hurt / comfort. description of injuries. light angst. reader is described as soft, pudgy, and squishy. possibly ooc..
๐ก๐๐๐ : hurt / comfort. injured! bruce wayne. clingy! bruce wayne. yearner! bruce wayne. chubby / plus sized! reader. emotional support reader.
Two days ago, there was an Arkham breakout. Bane, The Penguin, Two-Face, and the Joker broke free, and it was all hands-on deck to get them back in the asylum. Red Robin and Oracle had worked for thirty-six hours straight in the bat-cave and clocktower to monitor street cameras and infiltrate electronics to try and locate them, while the rest of the crew scrambled to control the rising gang conflicts and territory disputes while trying to locate the crime lords on their own time. It took eight hours on the first day to find and capture the Penguin, and just three hours ago the Batman had managed to singlehandedly put Bane back inside Arkham.
Not without consequences.
Two broken ribs, a sprained shoulder, and a face and chest full of nasty, yellowing bruises that even makeup and fake skin could cover. Suffice to say, both Bruce Wayne and Batman were benched for the foreseeable future. Normally that would leave Bruce irritable, bored, and eager to get back to work, but some part of him couldn't find the energy. He was tired, overwhelmingly exhausted that all he wanted to do was shower and wrap you into his arms.
At five in the morning - the birds of Gotham just starting to chirp - Bruce opened the door to your shared bedroom, the tension in his posture softening in such a minute way that it was hardly perceptible as soon as his eyes met the shape of your sleeping form in the dark. He stood there for longer than he should, his unharmed shoulder pressing into the doorframe as his eyes watched the subtle rise and fall of the shadowy shape you consisted of. The dim light of the hallway must have woken you, or perhaps the weight of his gaze, for your shape rustled the covers and soon he was blessed with the sound of your sleepy, slightly raspy voice.
"Bruce?"
His breath caught in his chest, just a temporary hitch in his lungs that was accompanied by a sharp pain in his ribs.
He winced, just a faint twitch of his shoulders.
But you were already pulling back the blankets with a "Rough night, baby?" and Bruce was pulled towards the bed almost if by a magnetic force. Like you were the sun, and he was merely a planet in your gravitational force. His knees hit the side of the mattress, and he was already moving under the blanket and across the bed until his nose pressed into your neck. Immediately, he sucked in a painful lungful of air, air that consisted of your scent; the manor's laundry detergent, your shampoo, your lotion, and the unique scent of your skin that was slightly mixed with the smell of his, formed due to the sheer amount of time he spent by your side. It hit like a drug.
Bruce's rough palm trailed down from your shoulder to your chest, then to the bottom hem of your sleep shirt. His thumb swiped over the waistband of your underwear before his fingertips snuck under your shirt, resting atop your stomach. Slowly, his fingertips hooked into the pudgy flesh, sinking in until your soft skin spilled between the gaps of his fingers.
A final part of him settled with an accompanying exhale. His heavy weight sunk fully into the mattress, which groaned quietly under the additional weight.
Like a cat, Bruce kneaded your stomach, his fingers gripping and sinking into the squishy flesh only to flex his fingers outwards as far as they would go. He felt the warmth, the softness of your skin, then hooked his fingers into the fat and kneaded it anew. The rough stubble of his jaw and cheek rasped against your cheek and neck as he moved closer, unable to resist kissing that sensitive spot between your neck and your earlobe. You shivered, and Bruce allowed himself a shadow of a smile.
"Are you alright, hon?" You croak, tilting your head to clumsily kiss just shy of his lips. Bruce hummed, adjusting his head so that your next kiss would land where he wanted it.
"Two broken ribs, sprained shoulder, and some bruises I can't cover." Bruce reported, similarly to a soldier stating a status report. You hummed, free hand curling into his hair to scratch at his scalp.
"So you're benched."
Bruce hummed in agreement, tone a little reproachful at the idea.
"I won't let you be bored, baby." You coo, pressing another kiss to his lips, sloppy with sleep. He groans into the kiss, fingertips hooking a little more firmly into your stomach. "You can help from the Batcave, yeah? And you can spend some time with your lovely partner," you tempt, hand sliding around to press your fingertips just right into his forehead in order to ease the stress headache he didn't even realize he had. His head lolls backwards, eyes drifting shut. Bruce is asleep before he even knows it.
What would he do without you?
๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ฆ: You were called Wayne Enterprises lucky charm. when you spoke, sales always went well. when you smiled, dodgy investors ended up donating more than usual. Bruce Wayne didn't realize just how lucky you were until a criminal gang attacks Wayne Enterprises.
๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : gun violence. attack on wayne enterprises. near death experiences.
๐ก๐๐๐ : probability manipulator! reader. metahuman! reader. gender neutral. sfw. wayne enterprises secretary! reader. possibly ooc im still new to writing bruce / batman.
You always had an inordinate amount of luck. Every college you applied to accepted, every job you went for begged to hire you, you frequently found fifty-dollar bills under your couch cushions when you swear you didn't have anything above a twenty. When your car broke down, someone always pulled in exactly ten minutes later with exactly what you needed, and when you moved to Gotham to work at Wayne Enterprises, you were promoted in two months to Bruce Wayne's personal secretary.
Bruce Wayne himself wasn't in the office much; you spent more time with Lucius Fox than Bruce, but that wasn't something you bothered to complain about. Work was easy, in fact, most things that went your way was easy. You liked it that way.
Working with Lucius was simple, and he often made jokes about how you were Wayne Enterprises lucky charm. It got to the point where you sat in on business meetings, giving possible investors smiles and laughing at their jokes, funny or not. Whenever you did involve yourself with investors, they always donated a thousand more than they did when you didn't.
It took Bruce Wayne two weeks to catch wind of Wayne Enterprises new lucky charm, and afterwards he started coming to the office more and more. At first, it was under the guise of keeping order, but you felt his eyes on you more than what was normal. You watched him similarly to how he watched you, curious of your boss, but the man was exactly like the tabloids described. You expected him to stay at the office for around a week before going back to parties, drinks, and women, but Mr. Wayne lingered in his office longer than you thought he would. The excuse of 'keeping order' didn't really stick - Wayne Enterprises was running smoothly, but Bruce Wayne stayed in his office, doing paperwork and chatting up investors on the phone for around a month.
Your fingertips flew across the keyboard at your desk, mind split between your current task and the feeling of someone's eyes on the back of your head. Someone that was surely Bruce Wayne. It takes three minutes of staring before Bruce to open the door to his office, looking at you with a bashful smile and a phone tucked into the crook of his neck, muffled by a hand.
"Can you - - sorry," he smiled, looking at you with pleading blue eyes that made countless women and men melt. "Things go so well when you talk to them. Can you help? This one's particularly reluctant and we really need a deal."
"Of course, Mr. Wayne," you nod, pushing yourself out of your chair. He motions you into his office, granting you a seat across from him. He takes his usual chair and hands you his phone while he crosses his legs, resting his hands on his thighs. He watches you curiously as you speak into the device, plastering a smile onto your face and already introducing yourself in a cheerful tone.
It takes five minutes, and you hang up with a sweet goodbye and a smug smile towards Bruce's direction. You hand him back his phone. Bruce takes it with a huffing laugh, wiping his raven hair back along his head. "I've been trying to get him to seal that deal for three days."
"Guess you just needed your lucky charm." You grin. Bruce considers you with an expression of great intrigue.
"Might I ask how you did that?" He tilts his head, brows furrowing minutely when you dismissively shrug.
"I guess I've always been lucky, Mr. Wayne." You wave him off, already standing up to continue your actual job. "Is there anything else you need, Mr. Wayne..? Coffee?"
"Bruce," he corrects softly. "Just Bruce, and no, thank you. That'll be all."
As you return to your desk, you feel his eyes on you the whole way.
On Friday, you work the day without issue or much conversation. When the night rolls around and everyone begins to pack up to clock out, the front door chimes open.
Followed by a gunshot right into the ceiling. People shriek, panic, and duck for cover as Wayne Enterprises is taken over by a hostile gang. Twenty-five men with guns, rifles, and bombs. The security guards don't really stand a chance, as soon as they try to fight back, they're shot and left eerily quiet in puddles of their own blood on the tiled floor.
They ask for Bruce Wayne, but today of all days he's nowhere to be seen. They take you instead, shoving you to your knees in the middle of the lobby, an assault rifle pressed to the back of your head. You raise your shaking hands into the air, trying to steady your uneven breathing. Trying to focus.
"Bruce Wayne has five minutes to get here, or else we're blowing this place sky high," the masked man with iron pressed to the back of your head growls, shoving the end of the gun against the crown of your head to reinforce his promise. Behind him, three men plant a bomb on the elevator, and two more venture further into the upper levels to plant more.
One minute passes. Three people are killed. Two minutes pass, and three turns to six. You hear the men speaking of just destroying the building without waiting for Bruce, but the apparent leader makes a gesture with his gun and says to wait.
Another minute pass. The bomb beeps.
It's not Bruce Wayne that shows his face, but Batman. Batman, who drops through the window and directly onto the shoulders of a nearby gang-member, pinning him to the ground under his weight. With a kick to the head, the man's unconscious in under thirty seconds. He's so fast that you barely get a good look at him, he's a blur of shadow incarnate, his cape billowing behind him as he ruthlessly pummels each armed man to unconsciousness, bullets bouncing off of his armor with hardly a flinch from the dark vigilante.
One by one, the armed men go down. Beaten, bloody, and unconscious with more than a few broken bones to keep them from any repeat behavior. The man who held a gun to your head earlier returns with a vengeance, rifle pressing against your skull with enough force to bruise.
"I'll kill them! Their death will be on your hands, Bats!" The man grins, voice shaking with adrenaline.
It is a terrifying sight to see the Dark Knight dig his boots into the floor and sprint full speed in your direction while pulling a Bat-arang out of his utility belt. The man holding his gun to your head finds it an equally terrifying sight.
Terrifying enough to pull the trigger.
The gun clicks.
"Wh - what?!" The man's had no issue from this gun all night.
He pulls the trigger again. Batman gets closer.
Click. Click Click. Nothing.
"God damn it!" He cries out, only to be immediately pummeled to the floor by an armored fist around the side of his head. Only then do you sigh in relief, head hanging. One punch from Batman was enough to knock him clean out, which left the Dark Knights attention on you.
Squirming under just the feeling of his attention, you chance a look up to see him at your side, a dark shadow looming over you, lips pursed with what seemed to be confusion, the most emotion you had ever heard of him showing.
"How." He said roughly, offering a hand to help you up. He didn't ask, he demanded an answer.
"What?" You ask, hand trembling as you take his hand. Clawed gloves curl around your hand, swallowing it whole as he helps you up.
Batman's head twists from your trembling figure to the gun on the floor, knocked out of the unconscious mans grasp when he fell. "The gun had no issues from the time he entered to the time he held you at gunpoint. Only when he pulled the trigger it jammed." He held onto your hand a few moments longer to examine you like a bug under a microscope, the weight of his gaze a physical pressure on your shoulders.
"I'm just.. lucky, I guess."
He hums and releases your hand. "Go home. Stay safe." The words are dismissive, his attention already turning towards the other hostages.
"Wait - - the.. the bombs - -"
"Handled." He curtly replies, his rough tone already cutting you off. He's walking towards a sobbing woman on the ground when you speak again.
You pause, hesitant. "Is Bruce okay?"
Batman stops in place, and the only sign of him shifting his posture is the slight flutter of his cape, he turns his head over his shoulder with the unnatural smoothness of an owl, the white slits of his mask's eyes boring into you.
"He's alright. Go home."
You nod, walking towards the door. "Thank you, Batman."
Somehow, you feel his eyes on you all the way to your front door.
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