I posted 1,319 times in 2022
That's 1,319 more posts than 2021!
379 posts reblogged (29%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
I tagged 1,312 of my posts in 2022
Only 1% of my posts had no tags
#honeycombstrawberry - 478 posts
#adrian chase - 407 posts
#adrian chase x reader - 188 posts
#vigilante x reader - 186 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#i have to be better at reblogging fics on here that i read and like because i always forget and reblogging is vital to the tumblr ecosystem
Anyways. Just thinkin bout. Stealing Adrianâs clothes. Small/short reader. Stealing all of his hoodies and his suit and stuff. How he would get super possessive and touchy and cuddley and stuff. Just. Please. đđ
pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)
one-sentence synopsis: you notice that adrian seems to like it when you borrow his clothes, so you decide to try a little experiment of sorts.
author's note: okay so when i say this got away from me i very sincerely truly mean that it completely got away from me. it ended up being over 7k words. but also i'm incredibly small and so this prompt spoke to me and obviously i'm here because i want this giant man to scoop me up and freak on me so this prompt immediately took a special place in my heart.
Youâve never been very tall.
Itâs never really bothered you. You know people make a lot of jokes about height, but being short is just the way you are. Itâs not like you were taller and got shrunk; youâve never known what itâs like to be tall, so. This is just life. You donât mind it.
Youâve also never considered it to be anything specialâ
Heâs got at least a foot of height on you, but more than that, heâs justâ bigger. Heâs tall, and heâs broad, and heâs strong, and when youâre with him, you feel like youâre none of those things. And, in all honesty, it seems like something that Adrian genuinely loves about you.
You start getting suspicious right away. When you first get together, you both have a bad habit of staying over each otherâs places and just leaving shit everywhere. You canât keep your hands off each other, so, when youâre tearing each otherâs clothes off, things just happen to land all over the place. Neither of you is particularly organized in those moments, to be sure.
When youâve only been dating for a few weeks, you wake up in the middle of the night at Adrianâs place and realize youâre fucking thirsty. Youâre not surprised youâre dehydrated after what happened earlier, but you do know that you need waterâ like, nowâ and that Adrian is so deeply asleep that he doesnât even move when you slip out from under his arm.
You shiver in the cool air of the room. Searching for something to cover your bare skin, you just grab the first article of clothing you can find in the dark. Feeling it out, then tugging it on, you realize from how large it is that itâs Adrianâs shirt, but itâll have to do for now.
Besides, you like the idea of wearing his clothes. Itâs like a mark of ownership, sort of; like heâs staking his claim without even being there. Even more than that, it gives you a sense of belonging, that the two of you are so close that his clothes can keep you warm and safe, too, just like he does.
It feels nice, is all. You feel nice. So, you pull the shirt on, you realize itâs Adrianâs, and youâ leave it. Itâs not hurting anybody. Itâll just be quick, and then youâll be back, and it wonât even matter. He probably wonât even wake up to laugh at you.
You slip your arms through the sleeves and navigate through Adrianâs dark bedroom to find his bathroom. You slip the door closed, flip the light on, and get yourself a drink of water from the sink.
In your mirrorâs reflection, you can see yourself wearing Adrianâs shirtâ and literally nothing else. You watch your face heat up pink, flushing all over and spreading down your neck. You like the way it feels, you like the way it looks. You donât want Adrian to think youâre, likeâ clingy, or obsessive, or whatever. But you like this.
You yawn unexpectedly, reminding you you should probably actually go back to sleep instead of standing here, drinking water, looking at yourself in your boyfriendâs shirt.
Flipping the bathroom light off, you make your careful way back to Adrianâs bedroom, only to find that heâs sitting up, his lamp flicked on and a bewildered expression on his face. Heâs rubbing at one eye, glasses still on the side table.
When you come back, you say softly, âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to wake you up.â
âNo, no worries,â Adrian says, yawning until his jaw cracks. âI was just thiââ
He stops short as he drops his hand to actually properly look at you and meet your eyes. He only does that for a moment before his eyes fall down to skim over your body instead. He clearly canât see well, his vision unfocused before he scrambles for his glasses, cramming them onto his face. When he sees you in full clarity, he blushes red up to his ears, sprawling down his bare chest.
âHey,â Adrian says. His voice is lower, more of a bass in it. It makes your heart skip, heat coiling low in your gut, an instinctive response. He climbs up on the covers, crawls towards the end of the bed. He sits up at the foot of it, observing you from closer. âYou look really nice. Like, stupid nice.â
You look down at yourself. You know you must look pretty much like you do every time you wake up, except youâre wearing his clothes.
Adrian shifts where heâs sitting, and you look up to see him readjusting his position. Like you, he fell asleep without clothes on, and you can tell heâs already most of the way hard just from looking at you, which makes you feel like your blood is boiling just beneath your skin.
âWanna come back to bed?â he asks you, and you donât hesitate to come and climb right up on his lap, his hands gliding up under your shirtâ his shirt, on youâ as he tilts his head up for a kiss, searching, skin hot under your hands.
951 notes - Posted March 1, 2022
pairing: bruce wayne x reader (gn pronouns)
rating: m (vague references to torture, possessive behavior)
one-sentence synopsis: you didn't think bruce was coming, but he wasn't going to stop until he found you again.
author's note: ohhhhh man. oh shit i love the requests you guys sent me i combined a BUNCH for this one i hope you love this!!!!!
You reallyâ You really thought he was going to come.
At first, you fully believed he was coming. You knew it, you knew, he justâ He had to be coming. There was no other option. For somebody like Bruce, you really thought you were sure that he wouldnât stop until he found you again. You thought you meant something to him. You thought that, even if he was only recovering your body, he would have found you.
You thought he might have loved you the way you loved him.
Youâre realizing now that you thought wrong.
As each day passesâ Or, as what you believe is each day passes, since you donât have any windows to see the sunlight throughâ and Bruce doesnât come, you start to getâ worried. You donât doubt Bruce, but you canât help but doubt yourself.
What if he canât find me? you think. What if he doesnât want to? What if he hasnât even realized Iâm gone? What if he doesnât care?
You know he cares about people. You know you do. Itâs just that you arenât always sure that youâre worth caring about in the first place. You put so, so much work in with Bruce to help him learn to love again, to open himself up to a friend, to make himself vulnerable to being hurt by being willing to have a connection with another person. He is lovedâ even if Bruce doesnât necessarily know youâre in love with himâ and you truly believed he loved you in return.
Maybe he does love you, a tiny part of your brain considers. Maybe he just canât find you. Maybe he wonât find you in time and that wonât even matter. Maybe you should have said something and now youâll never get the chance.
Youâre not sure which option is worse.
With each maybe-day you spend confined in your cell, you grow more certain that Bruce isnât going to come. You donât know why, and you try to let go of reasons. Itâs more important that you embrace the inevitable, find peace within yourself.
You only wish youâd confessed to Bruce.
Orâ maybe you shouldnât have. Maybe confessing your feelings to him, and having him reciprocate them, would only be hurting him now. You think you could have really had something, though. You think Bruce might have embraced you, and enjoyed his time with you, and seen you as a boon to him rather than a horror waiting to happen. Itâs one of the only thoughts that gives you pleasure, and itâs double-edged with pain, laced through with poison. It hurts to think about what could have been when youâre growing increasingly certain youâll never get it.
At least heâll have Selina. It must be her that he keeps going to see, she must be the reason heâs not spending as much time with you, and he knows, he must know, butâ You never had a chance to justâ be honest. You could have ended it, or figured it out. You could have asked where he went all those nights he wasnât with you in Gotham. You could have told Bruce you wanted him, that you were right there, that he didnât have to be with someone else, that he could have you.
You want to live. You want to live. If for no other reason thanâ than positive reinforcement, you have to stay alive. You need to show Bruce that reaching out to others, that making a connection, that feeling love for another person, will not always be met with hurt. You need to show him your love for him is more than he ever knew about. You have to be honest, because you didnât realize how strongly youâd regret not having been, in your last moments.
You have to live. For yourself, for him, forâ forâ anything that matters, you donât care, you just have to live. With each day that you become more certain that Bruce isnât coming, you become similarly determined to get out of this alive. Itâs a sick back-and-forth, when you know you really canât have one without the other. All the same, youâre dead set on getting out of here alive.
It really canât be that long since you were initially captured. Not too much time could have passed between then and now, youâre sure of it. Maybeâ a little over a week, or close to two? Not more than that.
That doesnât mean, however, that nothing has happened to you. There has been plenty of time since the moment you were captured after leaving work in downtown Gotham to hurt you in a creative variety of ways. Because youâd been knocked unconscious to transport you, you donât know where you are, or even how long you traveled for.
All you know is you felt a searing pain while you were walking down the sidewalk, and then you woke up in a dark cell, on a tile floor, against rough, scraping stone walls. A few times a day, someone comes in andâ
âanything they can to try and get you to give up information about Batman, butâ
975 notes - Posted April 2, 2022
since adrian is obsessed with friendship and the whole bff thing i was thinking what if his partner picks up one of those cute bff necklaces that are very obviously meant for children? they like âhey, you wanna wear bff necklaces?â i can imagine him lighting up and theyâre CONSTANTLY wearing them. he even wears it under his vig stuff. how would the 11th street kids react as well? also would it be possible to get little situations involving the necklace? i need to get this out of my head but iâm picturing them grabbing his and pulling him down to kiss him. obvi you donât have to do any of this i just thought it was cute đ
pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)
one-sentence synopsis: you're not expecting adrian to have this strong of a reaction to a simple gift, but the response he ends up having is nothing short of life-changing.
author's note: i wrote and uploaded this entirely on my phone before breakfast on this lovely saturday morning so please excuse any madnesses
You didn't think it was going to be a thing.
You at least thought it would be a thingâ that Adrian would think you're thoughtful, and he'd wear it a couple of times because he's loving and silly, but he'd ultimately end up forgetting about it. You'd just seen the matching BFF necklaces up near the counter when checking out with your groceries, and you'd thought, I bet Adrian would like that, and so you'd gotten them.
The matching necklaces sparkle with rainbow glitter, each of the necklace half of a heart that says BFF through the center. Though the word is visible in its entirety when you put the halves together, it's easy enough to guess what they are when separated. They're not the prettiest; they're gaudy, and cheap, and tiny, and you didn't really expect it to be a Thing, butâ
âBut when you get home and say, "Hey, Adrian, I got you a present!" and he came bounding out to find the two necklaces in your hands, he'd frozen completely, which wasâ unexpected, to say the least.
It's an entirely unanticipated response, and you stop now, too, confused.
"You got me a present?" he asks, with a strange inflection, like you'd somehow mean the other Adrian sharing this apartment with you.
"Yeah," you tell him. You tear the tag holding the necklaces together, then turn the charms so he can see the heart they form together, BFF sparkling inside. "See? They're BFF necklaces. One of the best friends wears one half, and the other wears the other."
You offer him one of the halves, the chain dangling from your fingers. He takes it like it's going to detonate somehow, his eyes all wide and focused down on it, his face pink. You're impossibly endeared by his reaction.
"You're my best friend?" Adrian asks, holding his half of the heart in the center of his palm.
"I mean, I was hoping so," you tell him. "Unless you want to give the other half to Châ"
"No!" he hurries to say. "No, I don'tâ I wantâ" His fingers curl up tight around the necklace. "No, Iâ Thank you."
He's not often at a loss for words, so you take it as a good sign that he liked his gift. It might be a little silly, and his reaction a little strange, but he does seem excited about it overall. He holds it out delightedly, asks, "Will you put it on for me?"
You grin and say, "Yeah, of course." He spins, and you reach to bring the necklace around his throat, clasping it together against the back knob of his spine. You adjust the necklace; he tugs it forward so he can look at it, held securely in his palm, locked around his neck, pressed over his heart.
He examines it for a beat longer, face pink, before he looks up and says, "Let me help you put yours on! Since we're best friends."
You laugh, and he smiles, but he does seem like he actually means it, that he's not joking. You hand him the necklace, and he turns you, bringing it up so he can fix yours on your own neck. When the charm settles in place over your sternum, you place your hand over it for a moment.
"You sure we can be best friends?" Adrian asks. It's like he's pushing you, testing your cracks, seeing if there's any way you might not mean this. You wonder how many times Adrian has thought he had a best friend that he didn't have before, his strong emotions unreciprocated by people who don't understand him.
You do, though. You tell him, "Of course we can."
"Even though we're together?" Adrian asks hopefully, skeptic.
"I think that's even part of it," you tell him. "We wouldn't want to be together if we didn't get along, right?"
Adrian considers this, then asks, "So⊠You're my partner, and my best friend?"
"Yeah," you tell him, a thrill running through you. "If that's okay."
"Okay?" Adrian repeats incredulously. "Iâ Fucking yeah! Oh, my God, fuck yeah, you're, like, the coolest friend I've ever had."
1,085 notes - Posted March 5, 2022
pairing: bruce wayne x reader (gn pronouns, gn sex descriptions)
one-sentence synopsis: you see something you wish you hadn't before you and bruce make confessions to each other you never thought you'd make to anyone.
author's note: i wanted to write more for bruce and got some sooooft requests that made my heart sing so i hope you enjoy this little fic!!
You know you donât have any right to be upset, but you are anyway.
Youâre upset, and youâre hurt, and youâre jealous, and youâre broken, just a little bit. You thought things were different, butâ clearly they arenât.
You and Bruce have been working together since he returned to Gotham just around two years ago. You help him with developing his technology, and repairing his equipment, and investigating his cases, and protecting Gotham. The two of you work together, as a unit. More often than not, youâre in the Batcaveâ either alone or with Alfredâ watching Bruceâs night through his eyes, unable to tear yourself away from the constant streams of his contact cams.
Youâre the voice in his ear, youâre his extra set of eyes, youâre his second opinion, youâre his partner-in-crime. Quite literally, you are his partner-in-crime, because the things you do with him and for him are often completely illegal. Not only that, butâ
Over these last two years, the two of you have grown⊠close. Really close. Closer and closer all the time, really. Bruce doesnât spend time with many peopleâ or, any people, reallyâ but he spends time with you. Youâre always in the Batcave together, or in the Manor together, or in Gotham together, or justâ together.
You really thought this was it. You and Bruce. That you were partners, friendsâ maybe even best friends.
Maybe even more than that. Or, you thought you would be more soon; you thought you could be more soon.
There have been a couple of almostsâ where you thought the two of you might kiss, but then it justâ didnât happen. Bruce will get this stricken look, and heâll withdraw, and you wonât be able to reach him again for a bit. He pulls into himself, away from you and everybody else for days every time that happens.
You shouldâve known why. You thought that he was just struggling to be close with you, still hurting so badly inside, afraid to love you because heâs afraid to lose you. You thought you understood him, butâ
You must not understand him at all. He must not want you. If he was trying to figure out his feelings for you, like you thought he was, he would probably not be kissing Selina right now.
And yet, here you are, watching through Bruceâs eyes as he kisses Selina. Itâs a small blessing that you canât see Bruce, but it almost makes it worse, that you know exactly what this looks like from his point of view.
Of course he wants her. Look at her.
Youâre glad that Alfred isnât here to see this. You know how obvious you must act around Bruce; heâd only be looking at you with pity right now. Itâs better you see this alone.
You and Bruce have a strong connection. You know that. You thought it was also a romantic connectionâ that he might be falling in love with you like you are with himâ but you must have thought wrong. When Selinaâs there, why the fuck would Bruce want you?
Itâs okay if youâre just friends with Bruce. You love him; youâre happy to be his friend. You justâŠ
It doesnât matter, you tell yourself, even as your eyes burn. Bruce and Selina separate, and heâs saying something to her, but the blood roaring in your ears drowns out the low buzz of his words. You look down at your clenched hands, your mouth dry.
Your heart is racing. You frown, sniffling when your nose prickles, trying to calm your hitching breathing where it catches in the back of your throat. You feel like such aâ fucking idiot, you should have known better, you should have knownâ
â(Y/N),â Bruce says, voice low and sharp.
He cuts through the fog in your mind, and you blink, realizing heâs looking out at Gotham now. You donât see Selina anywhere anymore, and youâre mortified, wondering how many times you missed him saying your name before he had to change his tone.
âSorry,â you reply. âIâm here. Whatâs up?â
Bruce doesnât speak, for a beat. Your brow furrows as you frown. Youâre glad he canât see you, either.
âBruce?â you ask him.
1,241 notes - Posted March 18, 2022
[comes to you like an old timey journalist]
Ay kid, I got something for ya..
Bruce Wayne intimacy, caring for him, washing the dirt and grime out his hair, helping alfred stitch his wounds and make him eat and sleep, reassuring Dick when things look bad, being there for him when he feels he has nobodyâŠ. ya knowâŠ. the good stuff
pairing: bruce wayne x reader (gn pronouns)
one-sentence synopsis: bruce returns from a night out as the batman in gotham, and you remind him what it is to just be bruce, and to let himself be taken care of, for just a little while.
author's note: oh god the intimacy........... a hot scoop if ever i had one buckaroo
Youâre usually lucky if Bruce is home before dawn.
Tonight, youâre not so lucky.
The sunâs already started to spread back up into the sky, beams of dim grey light fighting through Gothamâs near-constant cloud cover. The curtains are drawn throughout Wayne Manor, however, keeping the palatial spread of Bruceâs home in darkness until heâs actually ready to start his day later.
Alfred joins you in the window, watching the trees outside the estate, waiting for the telltale flash of neon and the rumbling engine that promise the Batmobileâs backâ that Bruce is back, that another night as Batman is over, that heâs survived long enough to come home to you once more.
When you see it, you visibly relax. The house is so silent that the distant purr of the engine seems like the loudest crash. When it skims underneath the property, vanishing into the bowels of Wayne Manor, Alfred sighs beside you. You glance over at him.
âAnother night,â Alfred says. He doesnât elaborate before he turns to make his way to the elevator thatâll take him down to the Batcave, and you follow after him. You donât speak, either; thereâs really nothing that needs to be said, right now. The two of you have long since fallen into a routine with Bruce. As the two (adult) people who live with him, who take care of him, who love him most, itâs difficult for you to see Bruce like this.
You hear pounding footsteps before the elevator doors close, and then a tiny hand is slamming in, stopping them from shutting. Dick stares up at you from the other side as the doors snap back open. He still looks half-asleep, pillow lines on his face, pajamas as rumpled as his hair, but heâs alert enough to glare at the both of you.
âIs he home?â Dick asks. His jaw cracks around a yawn in the next second, and you hold your hand out to him.
âHe is,â you tell him as Dick comes to you, slipping his hand into yours. He leans into your leg sleepily, letting his eyes drift shut as he yawns again. âYou, however, should be asleep.â
âI want to make sure heâs okay,â Dick informs you. Itâs just an explanation, not an argument.
Alfred crouches, and Dick steps into the circle of his arms, letting him lift him up onto his hip. Dick refuses to release your hand, clinging tightly as Alfred keeps him close.
The elevator dings into place in the dark subterranean Batcave, the doors clattering open. You can see the Batmobile at the far end of the space, the lights still glowing as the machine cools down enough to be turned off again, and the shadowy shape of Bruce moving through the aisles of worktables and equipment. His cowl, cape, and armor are all still in place, though you can see a fray in the material near his eye, a tear along the left edge of the cape, a chunk ripped out of the armor covering one thigh.
Youâll need to make repairs today and patch together other armor for him to take when he goes out tomorrow night; the last thing youâd ever do is let him go out with less than perfect protection from you.
Bruce finally lifts his eyes, when heâs drawn close enough. You can see the bright glint of them as they hit you first.
In that moment, thereâs no filter, no screen, no divide; the wall that Bruce likes to hide behind most often isnât there, and heâs just looking at you, connecting with you, raw and exhausted and worn. Your lips part slightly; youâre not sure if you need a breath, or if youâre going to say something.
âBruce!â Dick exclaims, wriggling to get out of Alfredâs arms. The both of you release him, and he sprints to Bruce, colliding with his legs. You donât miss the way Bruce staggers backwards, catching himself against the worktable behind them.
He still wraps an arm around Dick in response. He bows to hold him for a moment before he lifts him.
âYou should be asleep,â Bruce informs him. It sounds like heâs trying to be stern, but heâs landing at slightly concerned instead.
âI just wanted to say hi,â Dick says. He pulls at Bruceâs cowl, and so Bruce reaches up to tug it off, dropping it aside. He looks absolutely fucking exhausted, his face drawn, hair crushed flat, skin wan and split here and there. You canât see the bags under his eyes, smudged as the space around his eyes is with impossible amounts of reflective black paint, but you know thereâs going to be tired bruises there when his face is clean again
1,853 notes - Posted March 10, 2022
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