I Feel This In My Soul

I feel this in my soul

Plug it I guess

I guess I should post the link to the story I'm writing on Archive. It's naruto fanfiction and I just uploaded (and edited after a mental breakdown) the third chapter. Let me know what yall think. Might change the series name, idk. I've changed my name three times already.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2318357

"Trust me? You stole me!"

Stressed out and had this little story in my head so I figured, why not make a post. Maybe I'll continue it, who knows.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne X Black!fem!OC (Its actually X Reader but it's hard for me to write without an actual name for a character. So, reader if you squint)

Rating: E for everyone. No cursing (that I remember), No sexual content. Ambiguous backstory.

Series Masterlist

“It’s always gloomy here.” She spoke absentmindedly, her attention captivated by the rainfall hitting the window pane. Her tone was tinged with the boredom she was feeling. Bruce glanced over to the passenger seat. Her big hair hid her face but he knew her well enough to know those maroon lips would be shaped into a pout. She hated the rain and had no issue making the fact known. “When can we go on another vacation? I’d settle for Metropolis at this point.”

“We just got back. You should be grateful that I took you with me instead of leaving you here.”

“What do you want me to say? Thank you, Big Daddy, for dragging me along to the superhero playdate that almost ended my life?” Her exaggerated southern drawl had him clenching the wheel.

“You’re mad.”

“Fucking right I am.” She snapped, her head swiveled so fast he heard the joints pop. He sighed. He didn’t want to fight with her. She had every right to be upset. After weeks of boasting about the vacation to Dubai he scheduled, they arrive and see half the justice league there fighting sewer monsters. The dark knight had to lock her up in saferoom for ten days while he and his teammates fought to save the world. “I’m tired of being Batman’s pet. You won’t let me go out by myself. I have to stay at home all day. You don’t even let me have a real phone.”

“I can’t trust you.”

“Trust me? You stole me! I have every right to fight you every chance I get.”

“You’re acting like a child.” Her eyes squinted with rage. “You should be happy I go along with your whims. It’s not like I push you to do anything.” That wasn’t true and he knew it. Still, she kept her mouth shut. It was clear by the way he clutched the steering wheel that he was getting tired of her mouth. She leaned back in the cushioned seat and thought.

Bruce had parked the car in his garage by the time she looked at him again. He rose a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. She never waited for him to open her car door, acting out to salvage what little freedom she did have. Maybe he will get her a real phone if only to get back on her good side.

The pair walk quietly out the garage to the warmth of the manor. Alfred had already set up a spot in the great room near the fire for her to warm up with her favorite blanket and drink. He grimaced. On any other day, this would cheer her up but after the argument and silent treatment she decided to enact, fuzzy blankets and hot cocoa would do little to ease her ire.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted with a slight bow before turning to the young lady greeting her the same. “I didn’t expect you two to get home so fast. Dinner will only take a few minutes before it is ready. Perhaps it would be best to change into something more comfortable?”

Before he could respond, her voice rang out. “Thank you, Alfred. Dinner smells lovely. Unfortunately, I am not feeling all that well so I will be turning in early.”

Both men watched her leave without a sound, turning to stare at each other when a door in the distance had been closed and locked. Alfred only blinked and moved on. “Shall I prepare the couch for you then, Master Bruce?”

“No. She’s not that upset that she’ll force me to give up my bed. Even she has a heart.” He said while walking to the table. Alfred hummed and turned off the fire under the pot, giving the food one final stir.

“Mistress Dove was upset enough to forgo my chicken noodle soup, I am not sure she what she is capable of.” Bruce only had to give his butler a look before Alfred turned and began serving a bowl of soup. He ate in silence, the only sound being the roar of fire in the fireplace and the hard hits of rain on the manor. Every now and then, Bruce’s ear would pick up the sound of her moving in the room down the hall. He wondered what she could be doing at this hour.

“If you are done Master Wayne, I’ll take that bowl you’re scratching up with your spoon.” Alfred interrupted his boss’s thought. Bruce stood without a word and looked in the direction of the only other person in the house.

“Goodnight Alferd.”

“Goodnight sir. And good luck.” The greyed man called out to the retreating figure of his employer. Whatever happens tonight, he knows he’ll need plenty of rest to navigate through tomorrow.

Bruce found himself hesitating, his large hand clasping the door handle but refusing to turn it. Memories of past dealing with her fire played in his mind. There was the time she moved all the furniture in front of the door, and later both the door and the windows after the first attempt failed. Another time, she barricaded herself in the bathroom for three days, living off of junk food and leftovers Alfred left outside her fort.

The most recent incident had Bruce living in the manor with a ghost of a woman. Dove refused to be in the same room as his, she left when he came and stuck to the shadows of the house. It would have been impressive if he attempted to catch her, but Bruce would simply let her go and hide his annoyance. Now he stood in front of the door of his suite, hand on the handle, cautious of what he’ll find.

Turning the handle, Bruce took in a deep breath and scanned the room. The window was open, the night breeze filling the room and chilling his bones. There was no crude escape made of bedsheets this time, so his steel-blue eyes moved on.

The bathroom door was open with the lights off. His ears could pick up the sound of dripping water in the shower, she more than likely forgot to wring out her loofah. Bruce could smell the scent of cucumber melon, Dove’s preferred post-shower scent. She should be out, yet the bed was still made with not a single indent as evidence she was once there.

His steps were silent, a perk from training Dove did not appreciate, as he slowly gaited to the middle of his room. The aloof billionaire closed his eyes and sighed out his nose. After their trip, he didn’t want to play any games. Tomorrow he would have to be up bright and early to attend a shareholders meeting. In order to get the best sleep possible and have a pleasant enough attitude for the meeting, Bruce would need to end this childish argument.

“Dove, let’s talk.” He expected no response and got exactly that. She could be under the bed for all he knows. Her life before he saved her had been active, to say the least. Bruce wouldn’t put it past her to hide in a bathroom cabinet all night.

“Dove, come out, and let’s talk like adults.” While he pleaded, Bruce undressed and entered the ensuite bathroom. If he was lucky, his physique would distract her long enough for him to grab her and force a conversation out.

He left the bathroom unlucky. No matter how many times Bruce called out for the mistress of the manor, she refused to appear. At one point he thought he heard her footsteps on the self-heating tiled floors, but after turning off the shower, Bruce realized it was just the noise of water dripping yet again.

It was when the sour man entered the closet that his luck turned around. Hidden behind tens of dozens of male suit jackets and coats, sat Dove. Her headphones, Wayne tech that wasn’t even on the shelves yet, plugged her ears and blocked all noise. Her body was cocooned in her favorite blanket, a ratty sheet he has unsuccessfully thrown away several times now. The reflection in her deep drown eyes showed the screen of her phone, heavily modified and monitored by a bot he created, playing a video ranking his costumed colleagues in a list of some sort. Bruce raised a hand to knock on the mahogany wood to alert the caged bird of his presence, but her eyes were quick to snap up and stare him down.

Dove did not frown not scowl, her plump lips remained relaxed in a neutral position. The amusement from the video leaked from her body as she sprung back up slightly, it was clear she was ready for a fight. He had no energy for that.

“Can I help you?”

“Come to bed.” She merely raised a brow.

“I don’t have anything scheduled for tomorrow morning. I think I might stay up tonight. This is a pretty important video I found.” Always quick to choose her words. She had his interest piqued and they both knew it. Before he could ask, she gave the answer. “It’s a rank of best to worst costumes in the Justice League.”

“Where am I on the list?”

“Number 7. The all-black aesthetic is kinda out of fashion right now but it’s still timeless. Super and Wonder are on the worst list though, Red and blue are outdated.” A half-smile graced her face and Bruce wanted to caress her lips. Instead, he tugged on her hair scarf. He doesn’t do playful. He agitates people into reacting, digging into the vulnerable crevices people leave unguarded. When she swatted his hand away, the dark knight knew he’s won. “Stop.”

“Come to bed.” Bruce didn’t wait to see if she’d follow him back to the bed. He didn’t care if she would. The fact that Dove wasn’t angry enough to ignore him counted as a win for him.

Dove emerged from the darkness of the bathroom, sans ratty blanket, with a neutral face. The anger she felt in the car had not been forgone, simply paused for the time being. Her brown skin glowed in the yellow lamplight, the skimpy silk nightgown only covered to the middle of her thighs. Bruce noted his bedmate wasn’t angry enough to wear her old ratty pajamas, another win in his book.

They settled into the bed in silence. He got in first, then turned the sheets down for her to slip into her side. When her head settled on the plush pillow, Bruce leaned over to turn off the lamp on his nightstand.

“Goodnight.”

“Mhm.” A disgruntled sigh escaped. A few minutes passed before one hand snuck over to clasp a feminine one. When Dove continued in her silence, Bruce took the chance to yank her body to mold against his.

“You’re an asshole, ya know?” Bruce only tightened his grasp around her waist in response. Brown eyes looked over to see his closed shut in mock sleep. Even placing her ice-cold feet against his warm flesh did nothing to warrant a response. "Ya know, If I could, I would leave you.”

“Yes.” He grumbled, burying his nose where her neck and shoulder met. He knew that the moment his back was turned and the gates were unlocked, Dove would run without a backward glance. He knew she would dive as deep as possible into the underground to escape him and his omnipresent watch system. He knew, but Bruce did not care. “I know. Now, sleep.”

Me: *trying to get work done*

My last 3 braincells:

was anyone else 14 on the internet thinking they were a millennial in the mid 2010s. I’d see posts about the housing market and be like so true I can’t afford a house

next post coming

and its gonna be ten pages worth of smut. My application to heaven bout to get revoked