p ౨ৎ

and you make the mistake of telling him where your date is taking you for dinner, only for him to turn up with a date and get a table within earshot

Just loudly bragging to said date (or Mike, maybe he brought Mike) about his latest wins

Sadly, one of these wins catches the ear of your date, who is actually impressed, and twists around to make conversation with Harvey

And then you're just in a staring contest with Harvey, trading shielded barbs and entendres and doing your best to keep your cool

you fail miserably

both of you do, in fact

but the next morning at the office he's all boastful smiles in the face of your foul mood

And in the wake of you snapping at him, he grabs your hand to keep you from leaving his office, holds your eye, and swears, "If you and I were out, it would take a helluva lot more than some loudmouth to tear my attention away from the most beautiful woman in the room."

And it takes you aback. You can't breathe for a moment. But you finally manage:

texts between crybaby!ballerina!reader && ruthless!businessman!rafe

HAPPY EVER AFTER

pairing: (christian bale) bruce wayne x reader x spiderman!rafe

content: you’re stuck between bruce and rafe, unable to choose between the two. when they’re interested in finding out who the other is, or proving they’re better than the other, you’re forced to come to terms with the situation you’re in.

w/c: 3.24k

warnings: brief smut (p in v, oral f receiving) not detailed, implied stalking

“so what did you think of the dinner?” bruce asked, looking down at you while your arm was hooked through his. he led you through the hall of the restaurant to the parking lot, to the car he drove you here in. expensive, luxurious, more than your pay check from the last seven years combined. “i thought it was nice, kinda lavish,” you flush, hugging his arm fractionally tighter against the cold. he glances back briefly at the crowded tables you’ve just walked through; he got you a place in a private area, it was fairly easy, after all, he owns the place. “well i thought you deserved nothing less.” his words never fail to make your cheeks redden, charismatic and a smooth charmer, the daring type you’re a sucker for.

the parking lot is quiet, he opens the passenger door for you first but doesn’t let you in right away, leaning against the entrance. “does this mean you’d be up for another date?” you smile, slip your shoulder bag down your arm and about to put it into your hand but bruce takes it into his own, a subtle gesture, or perhaps a pending ransom. “it’s not that easy…” you sigh, and bruce tuts. nods his head. “right..of course, the mystery other man. is he that good?” he tilts his head at you, purses his lips together. “maybe..” you tease and he slowly takes it in. small smirk on his face. “alright. guess i’ll just have to prove i’m better.”

you weren’t aware of when the competition began. it was all in bruce’s head, the way his smile turned cocky in his fancy sports car, and he said you could ride it later on, or if you were lucky, you could try the batmobile. subtle flexes to remind you that he wasn’t an ordinary man– he was batman. the dark knight, gotham’s famous superhero.

gravel crunches under tires as wayne manor comes into sight. you never fail to be amazed by it, for your mouth to part slightly in surprise; bruce always chuckles, turning the car off and leaving you to marvel as he makes his way around the front to the passenger side. you don’t register when the door opens, just hear his velvet-smooth voice in your ear. “you going to stare all night, or do you want to go inside?”

“in..inside sounds good,” you say distantly, and his hand slips between your thighs, dragging down to pull your leg out of the car and his other hand grabbing yours to gently tug you out. his arm wraps around your waist, he shuts the door and leads you up the path. the mansion was as grand inside as it was outside. winding staircases, that bruce pulled you up. he caught your lingering looks through to the library, and study, and drew your attention away with a, “how about i give you a proper house tour in the morning?”

“you said that last time,” you murmur, craning your neck further back as the steps lead you away from the entry to the elegant rooms. you huff, pout and quicken your pace to catch up to him. “well maybe this time you’ll stay long enough..”

“maybe,” you smile, pausing to slip your hight heels off so you can pad up the stairs barefoot. bruce extends his hand to take them from you, hooking his fingers through the backs to hold them.

his bedroom, you’ve found is just as extravagant as every other room in his house, though you’ve never had much time to appreciate it with your eyes screwed shut and moans escaping your lips. you’re pressed against the door, tugging down his tie, and hastily pulling off his blazer. he undoes his own buttons, then swiftly tugs your dress zip down like a man who’s had years of experience. his mouth never leaves yours. not once. tongue swirling against your own, lips swollen, body hot. he wastes little time in slipping your dress off your shoulders, or into pulling your panties off to the side, easing himself into you with a tantalisingly slow pace. his face spreads into a cocky grin, while you whimper against his lips, hands trying to find purchase against his muscles.

your thighs are sore, tangled in his sheets, tucked into the crook of his arm; bruce is propped against the headboard, grinning down at you. “morning..” raising your head, messy hair, to look at him, you smile. “morning bruce,” you sigh sleepily, turning your head to check the clock on the bedside table. “oh no no no,” he chuckles, stretching out his arm to cover the time before you can get a glimpse. “bruce, i’m not gonna be late for work,” you whine, trying to pull his arm down but why would you even try? it’s batman, not the average guy. he’s unmoving, until you sag against him again. “you’ve got an hour.” he threads his fingers through your tangled hair, undoing the knots one by one. “i’ll drive you?” you snort, “right because bruce wayne dropping me off at my studio definitely won’t cause a scandal.”

“it’ll be fine.”

“they’ll ask me to get an interview with you, and all but interrogate me,” you grumble. bruce doesn’t mind it; the media, or others, knowing you’re with him. in fact, he thinks it’s the perfect message to send to his so-called competition. mystery man who he can’t find anything on. “sounds great.”

“for you, maybe.”

“not for you?” he quirks up an eyebrow. “no,” you deadpan. you’d hate to think of the a million ways the other journalists in the newsroom finding out you have something with the bruce wayne could go. it’d make work hell, if it wasn’t already. “you don’t want a lift then?” he asks. “..no i do..just park somewhere we can’t be seen?” you plead, and he purses his lips into a tight smile, like he’s deciding if he should be offended, or just take it. “alright then,” he agrees. “though– actually, i wonder if i dropped you off..would mystery man see?” he tilts his head down at you, and you scoff, pushing off his chest. your legs dangle off the bed as you sit on the edge, stopped from going any further by his arm, weighing you down to the mattress. “does it matter?”

“it does.”

“why?”

“because i want to meet him,” he says bluntly, making no effort to hide his intrigue. “hm..maybe you shouldn’t drop me off, after all,” you decide, and bruce exhales out his nose, evidently annoyed a little bit. “no–no, i’ll drop you off. and i won’t look for mystery man.” you smile. “it’s okay, you wouldn’t find him anyways.” you know it must drive him crazy– saying that. it makes it all the more fun for you.

…

you adjust your bag on your shoulder, fighting against the wind of queens on your way home. “want a lift?” a voice sounds out through the night quiet above you. you freeze, a knowing smile spreading across your face. spinning on your heel, you look up at the mystery man. his legs dangle off the edge of an apartment balcony, eyes narrow as they watch you below.

spiderman. or, should you say, rafe.

“no…not particularly, don’t feel like getting hair in my face,” you refuse, but stand there anyways. he huffs, hops off the balcony and lands on the ground next to you, switching easily into a leisured walk beside you. “or vomiting up your food,” he shrugs. “i only did that the first time,” you grumble, letting him pull you into a secluded alley.

“fine then,” his voice is muffled when he rips off his mask, face breaking into a grin, hair ruffled and sticking up in messy spikes. “i’ll walk you home.” he delves into a backpack he left behind in the corner, pulling out a grey t-shirt which he tugs over his head after removing his suit down to the waist. your eyes drift over his abs, defined muscles stretching out the sleeves, and rafe’s not stupid enough to miss it. “lovin’ the show, huh?” he teases, taking his suit off the whole way, and changing into a pair of jeans, and trainers. “yeah..pretty good,” you mutter, teeth sinking into your lips. rafe stuffs his suit into his bag, slinging it over his back, and lacing his fingers through yours.

“how’s work?” he pulls you closer into his side. “we really doing this?” he raises an eyebrow at you, squeezing your hand. “doing what?”

“small talk,” you chuckle. “it’s not us, i don’t like it.” rafe laughs, though he agrees. “alright..let’s talk about something else…like the guy who dropped you off yesterday.” you sigh, long and exaggerated. “god not this again.” rafe’s brows furrow. “we’ve never spoken about this before..at least not much.”

“no! not you, the other guy’s a little invested,” you mutter, thinking of the amount of times bruce spoke about rafe yesterday alone. and this morning. and the past few weeks. “well i’m not jealous,” rafe reassures you. “we’re…open. or flexible, i dunno, whatever you wanna call it.” he waves his hand vaguely. silence passes between you two before he speaks up again. “but seriously, you spend the night with him?”

“he took me on a date,” you admit, and rafe lets out a low whistle. “whereabouts?”

“someplace..he knows the owner..” you say, not mentioning that he is the owner; rafe probably already knows this. he knows more than bruce does. he always has. “ah, i see.” rafe smiles at you, turning the corner on the street, trailing you along. “gonna go on another?”

“he asked..” rafe glances back at you. “and you said…”

“it was complicated.” he hums, “that it is.”

“you seem iffy about it..” you note, though it’s stupid. they’re both a bit tentative with the situation, neither wanting to lose you. it was painful that you met them at the same time, worse that you couldn’t make your mind up. “my place?” he asks, and you nod, letting him lead you down the pavement to an evidently more luxurious set of apartment blocks. he doesn’t answer your question, not until you’re both inside. not until you’ve gone through the elevator, and are standing by the door to his condo. not when you actually begin to believe he’s ignored the matter.

“of course i’m bein’ a bit weird about it,” he mutters, entering the spacious apartment. he shrugs off his jacket, lays it across the back of a chair. “i don’t exactly like sharing you.” you set your bag down on the kitchen counter, slip off your heels. pad across the floor towards him. “you don’t?” heaving out another sigh, he turns to face you, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “of course i don’t. you’re a wonderful girl..and i’m not surprised i’m not the only guy..” you run your nails down his arm, fidgety. “you annoyed i can’t pick?”

“naturally,” he mumbles. “but then again, it’s no ordinary man, huh? i s’pose bruce wayne would make anyone doubt themselves.” your heart flutters, but you knew rafe knew. he’d never outright said his name before, but you knew.

“so tell me..” rafe’s fingers slip under your coat lapel in order to slip the item off your shoulders, nearly letting it fall to the ground before webs shoot out, sticking it to the hanging rack. “how much better is this guy than me?” he begins to pluck off your blouse buttons one by one. “seems like you do care,” your say unsteady, voice slightly shaky. “okay..i do..answer the question.”

“he’s good..i wouldn’t say he’s better per say, but everyone’s got their strengths.” he grabs ahold of your shoulders, guides you backwards towards the bed. “is that so..like what?” he lays you down, leaving lingering kisses from the dip in your chest up the column of your throat. “i don’t know how to explain it..” he plants a kiss that hits a sensitive spot, causing you to sharply gasp. “try.”

“he’s this..guarded type of rich..untouchable, and out of touch.” you thread your fingers through rafe’s hair. “and you– you’re..rich too, but you’re more grounded, you know?”

“neighbourhood spiderman,” he mutters, sucking and biting on your neck, leaving pinkish marks. you let out a mix between a whimper and moan, gripping his hair tighter. “right…i haven’t told him any of this,” you say to rafe, feeling slightly guilty. shouldn’t this be clear? that you’re favouriting rafe over bruce? but no..because with bruce, your feeding his intrigue, protecting his ego. with rafe you give him the honesty he craves, and spur him on. you’re satiating the both of them, in wholly separate ways. or maybe it’s the same.

“you’ve told him nothing?” rafe echoes, almost in disbelief, moving between your thighs. you shake your head, voice too unstable to say much when his head dips down, breath ghosting over you. tugging your panties down, he causes them to slip down to your ankles, unhooking them and tossing them to the side before he grips your inner thigh almost bruisingly. “why’s that?” he asks, tongue teasing your slit. “he can’t handle it?” he answers for you between strokes of his tongue against you. “is he better at me than this?” rafe mumbles, and gathered by your bitten back moans, he’ll take it as a no.

this is a deadly routine. bruce one day, rafe the next. and again, and again. no escape. well, of course, there’s one evident escape: choose. but it’s never been that easy with two men who won’t take no for an answer. bruce doesn’t even know rafe, yet takes this is as a competition. rafe knows bruce, and it only spurs him on trying to prove he’s better.

your back’s pressed against rafe’s bare chest. staring at the clock, watching the minutes tick by. no doubt you’ll see bruce by the end of tomorrow night. and then rafe in the morning the day afterwards. rafe presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “it’s like i can hear you’re thinking..” he grumbles sleepily. “then what am i thinking of?” you whisper back. “us,” he states, and your body pricks with gooseflesh. so they can both do that then: read your mind. figuratively, of course. but then again, it’s always so damn accurate. you don’t offer a response, and so you both fall into a silence again.

you slip out the next morning. don’t leave behind a note, or any trace of you, having decided in the hours you laid awake that perhaps ignoring the pair was for the best. distance yourself, get rid of them both. end the cycle.

if only it was that easy.

they both watched you. batman stalked rooftops, walking along them, following you. spiderman clung to walls, moving stealthily. right under each other at times, not that they’d ever notice– for now. they were too concentrated on you. walking alone at night was dangerous anyways. they had to protect you, even if you didn’t want it.

and you knew..eventually. oddly shaped daggers stuck into the walls wherever you want. web residue that seemed too large to be the average spider. you wanted to brush it off, and you did for a week. you started switching your routes, wondering if you could throw them off. driving with friends, taking public transport. but it followed you.

they both did.

at times, you considered staying home. not leaving, forgetting about work. even that wouldn’t work. mornings where the window was open, previously shut, and distinct scents lingering in the apartment. you’d gotten locks– they’d broken them.

you never knew which one it was either. they mixed, traces over traces that confused you. eyes staring at you, but you weren’t sure whose they were. they had that same intenseness.

then it all went south when you came home from work a week later. bruce’s sports car, sleek and far too grand for a place like this, parked on the curb in front of your apartment. your heart sutters for more than one reason, pulse quickening. “bruce..”you gasp. “why are you–”

“ignoring me? i was wondering the same thing.” he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against his car door. “is this going against our agreement where i drop you off somewhere else?” he looks around– looking for someone. you swallow, grappling in your mind with what to say. “no–no! i just needed a break..” he hums, cocks his head. “from the other guy too?”

“yes–”

“ahh..” he nods, like he understands it. “getting too difficult for you?” he raises his eyebrows. “look, i don’t expect you to get in the car with me and go—”

“well she’d be stupid to do that.” you freeze, eyes shutting as you pray he’s not really here. not now.

it’s useless. rafe’s strolled out of no where. but no, not rafe– spiderman. masked, and acting like the superhero. his facade for a greater motive.

bruce straightens, makes a move towards you, protective instantly. rafe steps to you too. you inch back from both. “do i know you?” bruce asks, unfolding his arms, adjusting his suit. composed, but prepared. you can tell. rafe’s already in fight mode, suited, and waiting. “sure you do,” he responds cockily.

all you can think is: don’t say it. don’t say it. don’t say it.

“i’m mystery man,” he says lowly, whispering it like it’s a secret. bruce’s head snaps to you, pointing at the toned superhero. “really? that’s the special guy?” you look away, and you can’t see it, but you just know rafe’s grinning under his mask. “without the suit,” you mumble, and bruce nods slowly, turning back to spiderman.

“well then how about you take that mask off? if you want to be brave like that, or you give me a second, maybe we can go suit for suit,” bruce dares, and you can see the lens of rafe’s mask widen, then narrow. oh god. “i think this is stupid—”

“suit for suit?” rafe’s interest is piqued. “what does that mean?” he glances at you, and you shake your head, a silent plea for him to avoid the topic. “i mean come on..surely you’ve heard of other little superheroes around, right? or is that tight thing restricting your mind?” bruce smirks, voice like silk. smooth, and without hesitation.

for rafe, it takes little time to piece things together. bruce wayne, infamous billionaire in gotham. batman, gotham’s vigilante, or rumoured legend. he tuts, “so..you have a type,” he drawls to you. you avoid eye contact with either. “it’s better that we don’t do this..”

“no i think we should,” rafe snaps.

“i mean if you’re up for it,” bruce shrugs.

it’s like their sizing each other up. a fatal contest for you. “what are you gonna do? fight each other, in the middle of the street? do you hear yourselves?” you argue back, and bruce’s jaw ticks. rafe’s fists tighten.

“no,” bruce says carefully, not taking his eyes off rafe. “you choose.” he finally tears his gaze away to you.

your breath catches. forced to look at him. he’s not looking at you with any type of hate, or force. oddly gentle, almost desperate as if he doesn’t want to be alone again.

“wait–“ you backtrack.

“not a half bad idea..” rafe mutters, tugging his mask off, revealing a bruise across his cheekbone. you bristle, hating to think of how he might have gotten that. “pick. we’ll wait.”

endings:

happily ever after…dark knight in shining armour

happily ever after…spiderman of your dreams

seeing my man with his canonical love interest 💔💔💔💔

you’re one of those girls that’s always batting your eyes at Harry. not cause he’s the chosen one, just cause he’s hot. he tells you Luna fixed his broken nose and you say somethin cute like “aww thank god, wouldn’t wanna mess up that face!!” and he gets all flustered and kinda stutters a little bit and then says “yeah.. uh yeah.. thanks? thanks.” you’re making his no-longer-broken nose a whole thing. you’re doting on him, dabbing blood off of his face with a cloth in the common room bathroom. you’re just really close to eachother’s faces on accident and the real mystery of the day is who kissed who first? doesn’t matter, y’all are kissing. his blood is on your face but it doesn’t slow either of you down. his hair is so soft when you tangle your fingers through it. whatever. you’re making out with Harry Potter while blood is dripping down his face and you’ve imagined kissing him sooo many times but it still manages to be better than you thought it would be, and he’s shocked it’s happening at all cause you’re so hot. when you guys pull away and he sees the little smear of blood across your lips and nose he’s profusely apologizing knowing damn well he’s just getting harder the longer he looks at you. he’d never tell you that, though

MID SUMMERS with rafe cameron x fanta!reader

she sees him before he sees her. or maybe he’s already looking and pretending not to. it’s mid-summers, after all. everything feels dipped in honey and champagne, like nothing bad can happen under a sky full of fairy lights.

he’s standing near the terrace with a drink in hand, pale blue suit pressed within an inch of its life, hair slicked back like someone told him to behave. but that’s never worked on him before. not with the way he’s watching her now—like her bare shoulders are an insult, like the gold lace dripping off her hips is a dare.

fanta lifts her chin, squares her shoulders, and lets some guy with perfect teeth pour her another drink. she doesn’t look at rafe again until the guy leans in too close, laughs too loud at something she barely said.

and when she does look back?

rafe’s already halfway to her.

“you got bored quick,” she says before he even opens his mouth, her voice airy like a joke, but her eyes don’t meet his for long.

“you always make me wanna drink faster,” he mutters, setting his glass down without looking. “figured if i didn’t come over now, you were gonna start giving out your number like it’s a damn raffle ticket.”

she rolls her eyes, lips sticky with strawberry gloss. “i didn’t know we were playing the possession game again.”

he huffs. “didn’t know we ever stopped.”

her jaw tightens at that, just for a second. “you didn’t say hi.”

“you didn’t wait.”

“you didn’t want me to.”

he steps in closer, eyes dragging down her dress. “you wore that knowing i was gonna be here?”

her smile tilts. “you think this is about you?”

“it’s always about me when you’re dressed like a fucking dream and letting bradley-whatever run his mouth at you.”

she leans in, the gold of her dress catching against his knuckles. “you jealous?”

“i should be,” he says. “but mostly i’m just tired of pretending you don’t do this on purpose.”

“you looked real cozy with miss blue dress and platform heels earlier,” she fires back, brows raised.

rafe smirks, slow and sharp. “that bother you, baby?”

she doesn’t answer. just sips her drink and says, too soft, “you didn’t even look at me when i walked in.”

he exhales through his nose, eyes still on hers. “i couldn’t,” he admits. “you looked like trouble i was gonna say yes to.”

and maybe that’s the thing with them—always pretending they’re not looking, not wanting, not waiting for the other one to crack first.

she hands him her glass. “if you’re done being an asshole, walk me back inside.”

he doesn’t ask questions. just takes it, slides his hand into hers like he never let it go in the first place.

NOT MEANT TO SEE - rafe cameron x bunny!reader

you step out just a second too late.

the shot’s already gone off. there’s someone on the ground. rafe’s standing there like he doesn’t even notice the way blood’s blooming into the dirt. like his finger didn’t just pull the trigger.

you stop short, your whole body going still. hands shaking just a little. you’re not sure what you’re looking at. not sure what’s supposed to come next.

rafe turns. sees you. jaw clenched. voice low.

“you should’ve stayed in the car.”

“i heard yelling,” you say, barely louder than a whisper. “i just wanted to—”

“yeah?” he cuts in, walking toward you. “you wanted to what, bunny? see that?” he gestures behind him without looking. “that what you came out here for?”

you flinch. hug your arms tight around yourself. “i didn’t know you were gonna—”

“that’s the fuckin’ point,” he snaps, and then he sighs, running a hand down his face. “you weren’t supposed to see that. you weren’t supposed to be out here.”

your voice wobbles. “is he—did you—rafe, there’s blood.”

“he was talkin’ about you.” rafe’s voice is flatter now. cold. like the softness drained out the second he saw your face go pale. “askin’ who you were. sayin’ shit.”

you blink at him. your lip trembles. “but… you didn’t have to—”

“yes, i did.”

he’s in front of you now. closer than you realized. his hands come up and frame your face, tilting it toward his.

“you think he was gonna just walk away?” his voice drops lower. “you think he was gonna let me walk back to the car and leave with you like nothin’ happened?”

you try to say something, but he shakes his head.

“you don’t get it. you don’t see people like i do. you see the good shit. the soft shit. i see what they’re gonna do before they even get close.”

you swallow hard. “i just got scared…”

his tone softens, just a bit. not all the way. but enough.

“i know, baby. i know.” he leans in, presses his forehead to yours. “but next time you hear somethin’? you stay in the damn car. understand me?”

you nod. slow. shaky.

he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, one hand still holding the back of your head.

“i got you,” he mutters, voice in your hair. “always.”