BETTER OFF

BETTER OFF

Anthony Bridgerton x reader (enemies to lovers)

A/n: This is not my first writing on this blog but it is significantly longer and perhaps written better. I want this to be a series so let’s see how popular this will get.

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton married you out of convenience and duty, hoping to suppress your outward personality over time. His efforts are in vain and getting worse as he begins feeling something more for you. Perhaps you are beginning to feel it as well.

Word count: 1668

You had tried. Truly, you had. It seemed as though avoiding the dance floor was close to impossible. Though you had expected nothing less, you were married to a bridgerton. The Viscount to be precise and the way he looked at you as you both glided across the dance floor was so forced that it made you visibly upset. “You could at least smile.” Anthony spat, noticing the slight scowl on your face. He was not the only one to notice, following his eyes you spotted a few guests whispering and gossiping, no doubt about you and your husband, their eyes nowhere but on you both. You shot the man dancing with you an annoying look and there was something in his eyes that made you give in, sporting a lovesick gaze and a blissful smile. “Better?”

“Quite so. Though, I hope you have not forgotten your duty as my wife.” If not for being in public, you would have groaned at the comment. Despite being married for only a few months, you were not as happy as you had thought. The moment is still fresh in your mind. It had been a quiet afternoon when it happened. Being in your first season, you were surprised when none other than the Viscount Bridgerton called upon you. Just the night before his mother had announced rather loudly that it was also during this season that he intended to marry. You’d watched him from the crowds and caught sneaky glances as you danced with other lords and earls much older than you. Finally, you’d found a moment to yourself, making way to the refreshment table. The single glass of champagne did little to steady you. Your father had insisted that you attend that night's ball and mingle. You argued with him to simply stay home and write in your notebook filled to the brim with your spontaneous drabble. He vehemently refused, telling you that it was your first season and that you needed to make an appearance.

“Do try not to drink it all in one go.” You heard a voice say, looking next to you to find that it belonged to one Lord Bridgerton. Of course, you knew who he was, the entire ton did. “Apologies, my lord. I did not hear you approach.” He seemed to assess you, his eye wandering your body. It made you slightly uncomfortable, though you would not allow him to see it. “It is quite alright. I must say, miss, you look a bit uneasy.” At that moment you wished you’d had a fan on your person. “I assure you it is not due to your presence. It’s just..” You trailed off, your eyes looking to the masses in the ballroom as your finger mindlessly tapped your glass. “It is just what?” He prompted, not sounding at all impatient with you. You looked into his eyes and sighed. “I despise these gatherings.” You admitted. The Viscount looked amused. His lips quirked up into a smile. “Is it not your first season?” He jested. At the question, you raised an eyebrow at him. “How did you-“

“Forgive me if I seem to be coming off a bit odd. I witnessed you as you arrived and made the decision to ask around about you.”

“A bit odd indeed, My Lord.” You retorted.

“Do not take offense. I only took such action because you are.. a mystery to me. Unlike most of the girls of the ton.”

“You do not know a young lady so you set out to gather any and all information on her? Am I too far off as to assume this is how you begin to court women?” His jaw fell slack and his mouth parted slightly. He hadn’t the slightest idea what to say. Little did you know, you had already checked many of his boxes. After a moment, he let out a defeated laugh. “Again I mean no offense.” He repeated, now wearing a confident smirk. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. “And I do not mean offense when I say this, my lord,” The Viscount raised an amused eyebrow. “You would do good to find a more effective way to impress a woman. Your tactic thus far is far too distasteful.” With that, you bunched the fabric of your silk dress in your hand after finishing your champagne. “I wish you luck on any future endeavors. I shall bid you goodnight.” Thankfully your father had witnessed the ordeal and was more than happy to allow the two of you to leave early as he had already begun to see the Viscount as a son in law. From that moment on, He had tried at every turn to court you. It began with him calling on you the next morning and soon developed into inviting you and your father to bridgerton house for tea. During which, you had become quite close with his siblings. You became quick friends with Eloise, bonding over your ‘radical’ ideas, You and Benedict had clicked due to his love for art and your affinity for poetry, you and Daphne had charming conversations over tea when she would visit and little Gregory and Hyacinth were quite literally obsessed with you. You’d much rather spend time with them than the man trying his best to court you, much to your father's frustration but Eloise and Benedict seemed to enjoy their eldest brother get rejected by you time and time again. One morning, shortly after breakfast, Lord Bridgerton called upon you whilst you were scribbling away in your notebook. You closed the leather-lined object as he entered and he made his way to you, purpose and determination in his eyes. “Miss Y/L/N,” He began, his voice even as he dropped to one knee. The action caused you to jump slightly. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my Viscountess?”

The way he spoke the words enticed you to say no, as you had done since the two of you had met. Unfortunately for you, your father stood on the frame of the door, watching you intently. Internally, you recall that you’d raged. Though in reality, you feigned a smile and said the word that sealed your fate. “Yes.”

It was quite the ordeal you’d gotten wrapped into. The Viscount noticed your bluntness and rebellious nature upon meeting you but considering you met most of, if not all, of his criteria, he figured he could tame you with time. He had since had no such luck with the endeavor. The Ball was long over and you two shared a mutual silence in the carriage home. “I feel I must remind you—“

“You do not.” You said quickly, cutting him off before he could speak. “Do not lecture me on how to be a dutiful wife, I assure you I am well aware thanks to your reminders.”

“Then of course you must be aware that as a wife, your display tonight was improper.”

“Do not tell me what is and is not proper!” You’d been so swept up in your argument you’d almost forgotten that your in-laws were also in the carriage with you. Violet, as she insisted you call her, looked taken aback. “Apologies.” You mumbled, turning your eyes to look out the window. When you finally arrived back at Bridgerton house, the nightly routine began. You went your separate ways, The Viscount to his office and you to the bedroom you shared. It certainly never felt that way. He would only join you long after you were asleep and left before you could wake. By now, you were used to it.

A knock came on your door as you were brushing your hair. You only hummed in response and you spotted Benedict enter the room. A look of shock washed over your features. “Benedict!”

“Good evening, Y/N. I’m hope I am not-“

“You are not. Please, sit.” You set your brush on the desk of your vanity as Benedict sat in a chair only a few feet from the bed. You remained seated, beginning to braid your hair. Benedict seemed to be at a loss of words. “Are you alright?” He asked, concern dripping from his words. You smiled softly and shook your head. “I am fine.” You lied. You hadn’t been fine since your wedding. “We all see it you know. Try as he might, my brother is not as skilled as he thinks of concealing his emotions.” Over time Benedict truly had become a brother figure to you. You would often sit together when your husband was busy (which was often) and Eloise was otherwise unavailable. He would occasionally give you advice as best he could on how to appease his brother but to no avail. Still, you enjoyed his company. “Your brother still believes he can tame me as if I am some wild animal.” You fussed with the ribbon meant to be tied around the end of your braid. Benedict stood and kneeled in front of you, and you in turn let him work his magic. “I would have been better off if I had said no.” You were not entirely sure if that was true. You could not deny that at least your husband was young and easy on the eyes, despite his continued attitude. “Do you also mean to say that you would have been better off not growing close to us?” He mused, tying the ribbon tightly around your hair. “Of course not, Ben.” You began, “I love you all deeply, but he is… he’s—“

“Stubborn?”

“Not the word I had in mind, but yes.”

Benedict returned to his seat, dragging a hand down his face. “Nothing I say will sway him, try as I might. Perhaps in time, the two of you will lower your weapons and become friends.”

You scoffed at the thought. It was amusing, you and The Viscount exchanging banter in a friendly manner. “If you say so. Friends.”

y’all needa read this 😩🫶🏻

after hours (chapter 4)

⯈ previous chapter : chapter one - chapter two - chapter three

⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader

⯈ summary: the nights in Gotham are always unforgiving, you, you strip for money, to feed your son and to forget some of your troubles. it's easy, it's simple until Vengeance appears in your night.

⯈ rating: mature, the good stuff starts in this chapter girlies

⯈ tw: stripping, violence, light d/s dynamic (blindfold)

⯈ word count: 6k

⯈ NOTE : the response to the story has been amazing and i'm back with another chapter long as hell, with some smut so hope you like it. tagged ❤️ : @luvmeijii - @blossomedfloweroflove - @deadflowerd - @measure-in-pain - @yuki235171 - @daryldixonstorm - @alicefallsintotherabbithole - @pop-rocks-and-skittles - @snowflames-world - @ticktikboom - @mischiefmanaged71 - @mr-robot-x - @shirukitsune - @thelastofkryze - @jimmorrison13 - @satans-butthole666 - @nowayhomerry - @loverofminesworld - @duwcsd - @lanatheawesome - @darling-imobsessed - @deadsounds-andbones - @lecterloveswill - @theoddcafe - @temptation-waits - @twinkletoes718 - @ancientimes - @binxy - @noble-rebel-heart - @verymuchsugoi - @archive504 - @jupiterredolent - @xl4ud1a - @sparrowwithaquill - @daddysfangirls - @poseidons-goddess - @kylieinwonderland - @glizzygobbla - @softpascall - @xoxoloverb - @flyforeverfree - @palladium-pineapple - @pleasantcandcandybear - @t0r - @lover4jane - @averagethottie - @janesofia7 - @sleepycatboo - @mello-d - @poseiodons-goddess - @deadsounds-andbones - @appapillowpetblogs - @tatammonita - @siriuslydestiny - @yoshinorecommends - @ummiii - @aesthetics-blue - ❤️❤️ to be added to the tag list : click here

You wait for him.

Yes, you wait for Vengeance to come back, in the semi-darkness of that luxurious garden and you don’t know how long you wait but the longer you’re alone, the more aware you become of your surroundings. It starts slowly, gradually even. First, the siren sound startles you a little bit, you swear you can hear some things falling to the ground, harshly, brutally, and then, there’s a gust of wind in your hair. Blowing the hair into your face and you move it away slightly, with one hand, with shaky fingers because you’re cold. You don’t have your shoes, you did abandon them in your failed attempt to run away and your bare feet are now wet, deep into the freshly cut grass and you probably going to catch something if you remain like this for too long.

But Vengeance asked you to wait. So you do as you’ve been told. You wait. Shaking and hoping, shaking and praying not knowing what to expect for the rest of the evening, not knowing if you’ll finally reach your bed, your home, back to your son. You were so stupid, why do you always do this at night? You have no idea, the club should have been enough, the club is somewhat safe. What if you do end up in jail?

Mind racing, heart beating almost as frantically, you think about the kiss, you cling to it, it doesn’t make any god damn sense, but it’s something grounding you, grounding you into the moment, into the present, something real, something that’s not just in your mind, something you actually shared with someone during the night. Something concrete and real, more intimate than anything share with any of your customers. It’s different. One hand finds your own lips, Vengeance, you decide, kisses as if he were only given one chance to kiss you.

***

The wait is killing you slowly. But he does appear again, and you stand a bit taller as he walks towards you and doesn’t even pause, doesn’t even stop, and grabs your left hand, growling a simple “follow me” and he leads the way back to the mansion. You fight down the urge to beg, you don’t want to see what’s left inside, and you certainly don’t want to be seen by the police.

However, you do want to follow him, you want to follow the bat so you suppose you don’t have a choice.

The party is indeed over inside, it’s a mess, it’s a filthy mess of broken glass and dollars bills, and … is that blood? It is and you don’t even flinch at the sight of it, there’s a lot, probably enough to fill up a sink and the thought is not even scary, it’s just there and you tap on his shoulder when you spot your belongings. Your dress, your coat, and your bag, which means your phone and some part of your life.

“Wait, that’s mine, let me just...”

You swear he winces a little but he lets go of you for a moment so you can grab everything, you do so as fast as you can and if you catch him looking down at the pretty dress, it doesn’t last long.

“Let’s go,” the bat mumbles and you have no choice but to follow again. You’re surprised when he leads you outside, by the front door, glad he’s holding your hand and when you spot out of the corner of your eyes the officers in uniform, you look down, at your naked feet, hoping no one will pay attention to you, that no one will ask for your name or try to interact with you.

It seems to work for the most part, you suspect it’s because of him, because of the Batman, they make way for him, make a conscious effort to avoid his path, and let him walk through and you swear you see a few people in handcuffs and sitting at the back of some cars. Where’s Natasha? You wonder if she managed to escape the madness, you’d have to check up on her at some point, you are almost certain she would have done the same for you, almost.

“What about this one?”

He stops, you stop too and you raise your head to see that you’re in front of someone not wearing a uniform, someone with glasses, and you’re pretty sure, from reading the newspaper sometimes that the black man talking about you is no other than Lieutenant Jim Gordon, a close ally to the bat.

“I’m taking care of it,” he responds and everything from his tone to his posture indicates that it’s not up for discussion. Jim however tries, arguing with a simple “she was on the scene, she might have s…”

“She didn’t. And regardless, she won’t talk to you.” There’s some ferocity to his tone, something dark and twisted and somehow protective and you suppose that it’s enough, you don’t see the look he exchanges with the Lieutenant but that seems to do the trick because Jim just sighs and motions for the both of you to get out of here. And you do, he leads the way and you follow him and you’re not even surprised when you’re standing in front of a car, black, just like the rest of him, clearly more powerful than any other car in sight. You can tell from the wheels and by the general exterior of the car.

“Get in.”

And you understand that this time again, it’s an order.

***

You don’t know where he drives you to. It’s not too far away from the mansion you’ve just visited, on the outskirts of town, deep, deep underground and you are a little bit startled as the car seems to reach a large platform and you go down. An elevator, you realize a second later, to be away from everything and everyone.

You wonder how many people got to come here, how many people does he bring here? Probably not too many, probably not too many lost souls in Gotham, anyone sane would have run away, would have preferred the police over the bat, but ironically, you don’t feel in danger.

When he gets out of the vehicle, he doesn’t seem to pay attention to you for a while. He moves, swiftly in the semi-darkness and turns on a few lights, giving the atmosphere an eerie look, with a halo of blue that surrounds everything. Or maybe it’s because of all the computers and the monitors playing some kind of video… the streets of Gotham you gather as you step out of the vehicle. You leave your belongings in his car and you step inside his cave? his lair? barefoot, jacket on your shoulders, still wearing nothing underneath it but your stripper outfit, hair pushed to one side of your face. You can feel some of your makeup sliding off your skin and you wonder what you look like.

It doesn’t matter now, you take a few timid steps inside, towards him, he’s removing his cape you realize, and slowly, piece by piece, his armor. You wonder if he will take off his mask.

He doesn’t but the armor goes away, leaving him with what you could only describe as a black wet suit, all tight and still menacing as the previous armor. He doesn’t look less large or less frightening, this is just another side of him.

He’s showing you his back and you stop staring and look around. The streets of the city appear busy on the screens, and he has a bed on the corner of the room, it’s just a king-size mattress on the floor but it’s made nonetheless, with more pillows than you could ever imagine there’s even a fridge. That is really a cave.

“What were you doing there?”

The bat is whispering and yet it’s almost as if he had screamed the question right into your heart, it echoes all around you and you can’t help but feel this wave of guilt washing over you. That’s new, you stopped feeling guilty for your mistakes when you realized they paid your rent and put food on the table.

“Working. Dancing. It’s Friday night… what’s a girl supposed to do, right?”

You play it off but you’re still shaking, you wish you were better than this, you wish Bruce had shown up and you wouldn’t be having this conversation with the bat. It’s more a scolding than a conversation.

“You seem to be attracting only the company of known felons and their associates.”

“Well, if you know anyone else who’s ready to pay upfront for a lapdance in Gotham, call me, in the meantime, it’s the kind of people I have to deal with.”

“You don’t have to, you choose to.”

“Don’t… don’t do that, don’t act like this is all black and white, right or wrong,” you start, wishing he would just turn around and actually look at you, like you were actually there and not just a ghost. “I do my job, I get paid, I take care of the people depending on me… I thought at least you could understand that.”

He turns at that, he finally looks at you, still wearing his mask, more vulnerable without the armor, you don’t know who’s behind the layers of darkness, behind the violence and the righteousness. You don’t know and you should be scared, that’s not what’s moving you right now.

“I do understand, it’s still not safe.”

“What you do isn’t safe either, who’s worrying about you?”

You don’t control the words and you certainly don’t control what you do next, he seems to have the same idea because you meet in the middle, you crash into his chest, your hands meeting muscles, his on your hips and you look up. Still, so much unknown, still so many questions you want to ask, but you don’t. Not when he’s looking at you like that, not when it’s clear you’re both broken pieces of something that was destroyed a long time ago.

“Kiss me again,” you hear yourself whisper.

And he complies without a single trace of hesitation. The bat kisses you again, and it’s as intense as before, it’s rough when his mouth meets yours, he presses his gloveless hands into your back and you shiver as he peels the jacket away from your shoulders and he finds your skin. His hands are warm and you’re so cold, so cold and you need all of him. That’s the only thought on your mind as you make yourself taller, on your tiptoes to meet him with the same intensity, your lips moving in unison with his and finding everything in that embrace.

You gasp and you moan softly against him, arms around his neck the very next second and you think your knees are going to give away, but he’s here. He’s right there, he circles your waist and so easily, he picks you up from the ground and leads the way. You kiss everything that you can reach while he drags you to his bed, his chin, the corner of his mouth, his lips, his jawline, you want everything, you want to map out everything you can see and you can reach, just to play it in your head over and over, every night until your mind goes either crazy or blank. You suck on his Adam’s apple last, because why not that’s something you can reach too, and the strangled sound he makes leads you to believe he wasn’t expecting that, not at all. You want to hear that sound again, you want to drive Vengeance insane, but before you can do that, he lays you down on the mattress and next thing you know, he’s on top of you once more.

Except the dance is very different this time, you part your legs so easily and he fits in between them like he was meant to be there, you circle his waist with your legs and your lips meet again. It’s a discovery and yet again, your entire body shiver, yet again, you move when he moves, following his lips on your lips, his chest pressed against yours, one of his hand in your hair and the other one on your hips, trying to hold your down. Because you’ve never felt more alive than right now and you are trying to wrap all of you around all of him, and you need more. You need to see him, you need to see his skin and sink your teeth into it, mark him like he’s marked you, and then move on.

You claw at the suit he still has on, you’re more exposed than him and that’s not fair but he grabs your hands, slowing you down in a way and you exchange a puzzled look. He moves away from the bed next and you moan in protest, only to have him, the bat, come back to you, holding something in his hands. It takes you a few seconds of breathing harshly and loudly to realize that he has a scarf in hand and softly, still with that low voice of his, he asks you to close your eyes.

You could say no, you know you have the option but you don’t want to come down from that high and you nod and finally close your eyes. He moves you so slowly on the mattress and next thing you know, the soft fabric is on your face, covering your eyes and he ties a simple knot at the back of your head, still strong and you’re blindfolded, completely in the dark this time.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

Your reply is instant, almost too instant however you feel more at ease now that you’ve ever been with any of your previous partners, you figure.

You don’t know why, the darkness doesn’t scare you and you can hear him, right above you, breathing as hard as you, and you slowly raise one hand to his chest, his heart is beating as fast as yours. Is he scared? Excited? Anxious? You suppose it’s a combination of all of that, slowly, you continue to touch, you continue to map out your surroundings, of him, right above you and you gently trace the line of his neck. You feel the bat swallow and you make a point of making your touch gentle right there because he has nothing to fear, absolutely nothing to fear.

You feel him relax, right there, and you continue your exploration. Again, it’s that jawline, strong and defined. You’ve learned to identify it and you trace it as well with your fingertips and you hear his breath quicken before you can feel it. You keep going up, to both of his cheeks, you trace the cheekbones and as you go up, tracing his nose completely, you realize that the mask is off. It makes you smile, he can probably see it and you don’t stop there, he closes his eyes for you as you gently touch them too, and then his eyebrows, his forehead, and his hair. It’s him, it’s all of him, you don’t get to see yet but in a way you do, in a way you get to know him behind the mask. Not just darkness, not just Vengeance, just a man.

It shouldn’t be this enticing but it is and you guide him to you for a kiss, it’s slower this time, there is less urgency, you get to explore and map out his mouth, his lips in a way you haven’t done before. And not seeing anything, makes the experience ten times more real, more present. You hear everything single sound and intonation he makes softly as if he was kissing for the first time and being surprised and delighted by the comfort and the warmness of it all, there’s his body pressed against yours, all muscles and if he should feel heavy, it doesn’t, you love the weight, that slow ache and you know you’re going to miss it the next night, that and his perfume. It’s sweat, tears, and blood and something else, something just him. He guides your hands during the next long and intense series of kisses, to the zipper of his suit and you help him strip down as much as you can.

He’s away for a few moments, your air is just yours and it’s not a pleasant sensation, you’re glad when you feel him close again and you moan as you feel his naked shoulders just ready for you to trace and to explore. You do just that, you take your time again and your hands move from his shoulders to his collarbone and lower. He’s just hard lines of muscles and scars. So many scars. Some are tiny and light, others deep and long, and you don’t think you would be able to count them but you do your best to find every single one of them in the dark and give it the proper attention. He’s not completely naked you realize, he just pushed the wet suit to his hips, exposing his bare chest to you and you smile as he moans when you reach the lower part of his abdomen. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, you can feel it and you turn your head to one side, giving him the proper access, as he bruises your skin with your hips. Yes, you think, nails digging deep into the skin of his back, he’s going to leave a mark and give you something to remember him by.

He doesn’t stop there no, the sounds he makes are animalistic in a way, they make your stomach and your toes curl in a very special way and you can feel yourself getting affected by all of that attention and the sounds he makes. It gets worse, or is it better, when the bat moves from your neck to your own collarbone and then lower, to your chest. Your outfit is not hiding much and you swear, you can feel him look up to you before he pushes the fabric of the bra to one side and his mouth is right there, on one of your nipples. You moan, like never before, arching against his mouth, hands deep inside his hair, pulling and breathing hard. You can’t see anything but you feel everything, and you can picture it, him lapping at your chest like it’s going to give him the meaning of life itself. “You taste so good,” he whispers against your skin and you think you’re going to die right here and now because you’ve never heard anything hotter in your entire life.

You stay there on this mattress with him, burying both your hands deep inside his hair and you can’t do anything else but moan as he explores and his mouth roams on your skin, kissing and tasting anything he wants. Your other nipple gets the same treatment and he makes a low sound, coming from deep in his throat that it shadows the rest and the way you’re shivering and the way you want him so badly. His mouth trails between your chest and to your stomach and with any other man, you’d be self-conscious, about the fact that you’ve had a baby and that you’re not as pretty as you used to be, not tonight, tonight you feel like a fucking goddess. Especially when he finally comes back to your face, kissing you hard again, stealing all your air, and pinning you so forcefully to the mattress that all you can feel, hear and breathe is just him. And you want nothing else, you cling to his shoulders for dear life and you let him kiss you, let him crush you completely, and when you feel his hardness pressed against you, against your inner thigh, you can’t fight down the urge to grind against it, against him.

You’re rewarded by another series of low sounds and kisses, as you move and if it’s supposed to stop you, it’s quite the opposite. Your hips meet his easily in this position and you can’t help but smile when he shifts his body to rub right against your thin underwear the right way the very next moment, clearly in need of a release. You want that and so much more and your press your feet on his lower back and you encourage him and you moan loudly as you feel his teeth sink into your neck. It’s not too hard, it’s perfect and if you do bleed, you’re glad, you’re glad he’s taking exactly what he needs from you, and from no one else. It’s almost as if you were one, almost, there’s no rhythm, no sense of logic as you move together, shivering because of the friction between your two bodies, needing more, wanting more. He could push the underwear to the side and take you right there and right and you would let him. Just like that, blindfolded, arms around his neck, legs around his waist, it’s all you need really.

You can tell he is close by his labored breathing and his erratic movements and you kiss him right before he reaches bliss, you manage to grab his face and plant your mouth against his and you feel him break above you, break and moan into your mouth, shivering against you and finally, finally, giving some sense to your night.

You don’t even mind that the bat collapses on top of you or that it’s still dark. You don’t mind.

***

You eventually fall asleep with Vengeance partly still on you. Still breathing on top of you. With the blindfold still on. You don’t know what to say, you don’t know what you’re supposed to say but you do feel better. At peace in a way, it’s still dark all around you, it’s still night outside.

Except you’re not alone.

He’s with you.

And you fall asleep on that thought alone.

You do wake up moving, you frown and you have one hand to your eyes, rubbing them slowly and it gives you enough time to feel the kiss he presses to your forehead and to slowly take into account the fact that you’re not in his bed anymore. Leather seat, probably his car, and … you’re wearing something. That definitely wakes you up and you can’t help but smile fondly when you take in the GCPD shirt that you are wearing, a bit too large for you, same for the pants. Your belongings are in a bag by your feet and when you turn your head to the right, you can see the bat driving.

The mask is back on, as well as the suit, and the full armor, and more than ever, he seems unreachable. Unbreakable. Too powerful to be touched by anyone, let alone by you.

He’s staring ahead as you make your way back up and when you’re finally outside, you glance ahead as well, staring at the Gotham skyline and the sudden truth that the night has ended. It’s the early morning now, it’s probably 4 or 5 am and you can’t help but sigh deeply. Back to reality, it is.

He drives fast, too fast, you should say something but you don't. You should probably say goodbye when he stops in front of a station, but you don’t. You don’t know what to say, the night has been long, and ended up on a high note, you wish you didn’t have responsibilities and you could just lean in, kiss him and ask for another night like this. You don’t, when the car finally comes to a halt, you stare at each other for too long and when you can see him opening his mouth, you nod no.

You don’t want to hear any apologies, you don’t want him to ask you if you’re okay or to tell you that last night shouldn’t have happened or it was a one-time thing. He can’t predict that, the bat has shown you another side of him last night and you’re going to be greedy when the next night comes. It’s all you can say for now.

“Come find me some time, okay?”

You leave him with that and a nod and finally, grabbing everything you own, you exit the car. And you do your best not to look back.

The trip back home is quicker than expected. You keep replaying last night in your mind, him on top of you, the bat groaning in your ear, biting your neck… and it’s all so much that you almost miss your stop but finally, you’re there.

Eventually, you’re in front of your own apartment door, about to turn the key in and you decide that lying will be the best policy for your mother and your son. Tell them that Bruce never showed up, that you spent the night with friends and you forgot the time because you finally had some time with other adults. That seems reasonable enough.

And you’re not going to think about Batman.

Not at home.

Taking a final deep breath, you open the door and you creep inside. Everyone is still soundly asleep and it’s good. You go to your room as slowly and quietly as possible and finally, you take out everything that was in the bag the bat gave you. Your dress will need to be dry cleaned and as for your work outfit well… you shove it in your laundry basket with some force. Before heading to the bathroom, you let the hot water run in the shower cabin first and you glance at your own reflection.

You are… a mess. Your hair has seen better days as well as your skin in general and … you pause as you notice several bruises on your neck and a biting mark.

No, you’re definitely not thinking about that.

You hop in the shower trying to keep your mind as empty as possible and you scrub yourself as hard as you can trying to push the thoughts away. Telling yourself that you can not think of the bat here, here, you’re a mother, you’re an adult, and you do know better. Than making out with a random stranger and let him blindfold you.

Everyone is still asleep when you step outside the bathroom wrapped in a towel and you head for your bedroom, getting into some comfortable pajamas and doing your best to fall asleep.

It does work and your son is the one to wake you up a few hours later. He wants to know everything about the opera and apparently, his grandma made pancakes. You have no choice but to follow, with a yawn, grateful for the hugs and for the food you see when you step into the kitchen.

“Long night? I didn’t even hear you coming in,” comments your mother.

And for the most part, you hide in your coffee and your food, because you’re tired and it’s not because you’re good at lying to them that you enjoy it. But they do seem to buy it, your silly little excuse and Bruce not showing up, your son seems disappointed for a minute or two and you change the subject to what you are going to do this weekend instead of dwelling on that. Your mother stares at you for a bit too long but she remains silent for the most part, only joining in to remind your son of his homework and the fact that no, you can’t skip church yet again on Sunday.

As if God were about to save you. As if.

***

For the most part, you do a pretty good job of not thinking about the bat. A very good job, it’s only when you curl up in bed that Saturday evening that he lingers into your thoughts and you can’t help but press your own fingers to your neckline, wishing he were here.

A silly thought. That you push away. You also fight the urge to go down to the club, deciding that you really need to stay out of trouble, for your own good.

And you absolutely do not think about Bruce Wayne at all.

That is except for his insistent calling. It starts after breakfast, the very same morning after the bat drops you off. You miss his calls simply because you’re watching TV and your phone is in another room, abandoned. A few hours later, you have a few missed calls from the Wayne, a few…

And really, you get it, he didn’t promise anything and he is a very busy man, you’re just not in the right headspace to answer. Except that he does call again a few hours later. And again. You should probably do something about it but you decide to turn your phone off.

It’s silly, you’re being stupid, but you simply don’t know what to say. Oh yeah no, it’s okay you canceled what I thought was going to be a date, I just ended up kissing Gotham’s vigilante instead… anyway, how was your weekend? Promised or not, you do feel guilty, and the last thing that you want to hear is Bruce, being perfectly reasonable, a gentleman even, and letting you off the hook.

So you don’t answer, you don't plan to, you help your son with his homework, you even make an appearance at church with your mother that Sunday and you do not think about it at all. Bruce or Vengeance, you don’t trust your mind or your heart, either way, to do anything about it.

***

So another week rolls in, and suddenly it's Monday.

Suddenly you're back at your day job and that afternoon is even more boring than usual, you sit behind the counter of the small shop, selling candies to kids and beers to people who should probably be working harder than you. You don't care, you're getting paid and you're being safe. It starts pouring down rain eventually, like it always does in this goddamn town and you turn on the TV to drown the sound. Except that you almost drop a bottle of water that you were handing to a customer when you spot the bat, Vengeance himself on TV. It's just a blurry picture, and it's followed by a journalist, informing the viewers of Batman's latest antics and how he helped the police over the weekend to put some hard felons behind bars. Apparently, they were having the party of the century.

It sends a chill down your spine, an actual one, knowing you were so close to the action, you were so close to being caught yourself and it could have all ended right there and then.

This is why you're not calling Bruce back, he is good in a way, almost too good, he has a future ahead of him, you? You're not so sure, the last thing you want to do is taint him. So you sigh and you turn off the TV and you focus on the rest of the shift. You start cleaning to keep yourself busy and when your colleague shows up for his night shift, he is impressed, you must have been either really bored or really motivated. His words, not yours, you needed to focus on something that was not you for a few hours and you shrug, wish him a good night, and head home.

It's still raining when you step out, it's light, so light, in fact, you could believe it was not in fact raining but your face gets damp in a matter of minutes and you accelerate your pace, you just want to curl up on the couch and listen to your son tell you about his day, his perfect day. That's all that you need at the moment. The only thing you can think about so you really don't expect the black familiar car parked in front of your building, and you certainly do not expect the door to open as you approach the building and you certainly do not expect to see Bruce stepping out of his car, eyes on you.

“Hello,” he offers with one of his hesitant smiles and you don't know what to say for a few seconds. Your right hand is on the door, you're ready to go home and forget about the world, but he's here. A few days late, you can't help but think and you want to roll your eyes at yourself, because you have no reason to be upset with him, especially with how you did occupy your time in his absence.

"Hello," you whisper back, he probably didn't hear it. But he makes a step in your direction regardless, always, wearing black, the jacket he currently has on is too big for him and you suddenly wonder if he owns anything in his size. He looks so... lost? Out of place? With his baggy clothes and the damp black hair stuck on his face and his eyes glued on you.

"Is this a bad time?" Bruce asks out loud and you nod no before you realize it, you force yourself to take a deep breath and let go of the handle, stepping in his direction. Back into the cold and back into the rain, somehow, it doesn't feel like that. "I just thought... because you didn't text me back..."

"I've been busy," that's a bald-faced lie and if he suspects it, he doesn't interject, doesn't protest, it's his turn to nod and your eyes remain on him as you watch the gears turn and he makes his own reflection. He looks at his shoes, then backs up at you, frowning slightly. His face is so open, so earnest, that you can see he clearly is confused by your answer and maybe hurt, why is Bruce so easy to read? That's a question for another moment, he's about to open his mouth and you interrupt him.

"Don't, don't apologize, you're a busy man, I get it, it wasn't that important.

"It was." He interjects, sounding dead serious. "Let me make it up to you."

"That's not..."

“Please?"

He asks simply, he begs even and it's not the word itself that stuns you, but everything it seems to carry, Bruce's intense gaze is still on you, you didn't even realize he took another step in your direction, didn't realize that you could actually push the hair away from his face from that distance and you do it before you can stop yourself, because there is no way he can see you properly and it's such a contrast to... the rest of your life. It's not messy, it's not complicated, he clearly is sorry, and he apparently wants to spend time with you, no lies, no darkness, no mask, just him.

"Okay, fine, we can do a do-over, but no opera, something simple, if you can think of simple," you joke at the end to lighten the mood and because he can't keep staring at you like that, you might ask him to do it all night long if he keeps going.

"Something simple, yes, I'll text you."

"And I'll answer this time."

He nods, it feels like a goodbye and before you can say the word, Bruce leans in, and he plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth. It's quick, it's sudden, it's over before it even began, and just like that, he flashes you a smile and climbs back into your car. Did you... did you just agree to actually have an actual date with him? While you recently spent the night in Gotham's vigilante lair? Yeah, you think as you finally push the door, there is something wrong with you.

“the summer i betrayed my sister”

pov: you’re bellys hotter sister and she found out you hooked up with conrad.

“you hooked up with Conrad didn’t you y/n” my sister yelled bursting into my room, I could tell she’d been crying because her eyes were red and she looked puffy.

“belly what are talking about.?” i felt my stomach sink, she knew? but how. all i could do was pretend so i let out a dry laugh.

“i know you slept with Conrad” belly looked at me like i had just shot her in the heart.

“belly- i didn’t“ I was at a loss for words. nothing i could do would fix my mistake. it was irreversible.

“i always knew you were a liar but i never thought my sister was a whore” she yelled loud enough for the whole world to hear.

my tears began to fall. “we both were drunk and sad it meant nothing” she slapped me hard it stung. she ran into the kitchen where my mom was and i followed. before i could stop her belly declared my business out for everyone to hear.

“your perfect y/n isn’t as pure as you thought because she slept with Conrad….” my mom stopped mixing the batter and her face turned a pale white. steven glared at conrad and conrad looked as shocked as i was.

before my mom or susannah could say a word belly took out her phone and showed a photo of me leaving conrads room last night without my top on. Jeremiah…. It had to have been him. he told belly.

“she’s a slut. she couldn’t even keep her hands off conrad- even though she already had Jeremiah wrapped around her fingers”

conrad got up off the couch, my tears fell and all i felt i could do was run. so run i did.

“y/n/n wait” he grabbed his car keys and ran after me.

he grabbed my hand and kissed me and i kissed back, i had nothing left to lose. “let’s go somewhere before steven and jeremiah find us”

I WANT THE MIRROR SCENE 😣🫶🏻

I'm saying this right now for all who will listen -

they fucking BETTER have just as many romance scenes for Penelope and Colin as they did for the other two.

I don't want cutesy little kisses (I mean I do, but...).

I want passionate, hot, steamy scenes because it's what they fucking deserve.

I swear if they pull ANY punches because Penelope isn't as "traditional" as the other girls I will fucking start such a riot, it'll make everyone's heads spin.

thank you and have a good rest of the day

Enamored Masterlist

Summary: Everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst.

Yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. They had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight.

Regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss.

That assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though.

You were nowhere near ready.

Warnings: Slow burn, mutual pining, Regency era society and social rules, angst. (Separate warnings included in chapters)

Keep reading

since summer is starting tomorrow i will get some posts out ! i got a ben smut coming out, a louis partridge fic and a Bruce Wayne fic coming out. I also will update “Mother Knows Best”