Batboys x Reader

Need a Second? (Nightwing x Precure Kirakira la mode! reader)

Okay, my lovely readers here is another cute lil thing for you! I warn you now...I don't know a whole bunch about this fandom which is kinda crossing over but I tried...I hope it isn't crap. This is also going to be featured in the batboys x reader book @PunkMewtwo is writing as well. This was written upon request from TaylorGriffith879 so I hope you like it! I sincerely apologise for the wait...life is hectic and unfortunately, I haven't had a lot of time to write. So, after all of that....I hope you enjoy! And as always, I love you. I appreciate you. Thank you for existing and remember how dope you are. Xx

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(Y/N) Pov

In my bakery,  the air is more delicious than any flavour. Somehow the aroma captures everything good in here: the filter coffee, the various cakes, the danish pastries. The blend is perfection. There are baking supplies littered around the kitchen and an empty pad lay in the middle of it, a pencil at the ready. I don't exactly believe in recipes, to me baking is just ideas demanding to be discovered. It's how I find peace. In the chaos of creation comes order; from raw ingredients comes something of beauty. No matter the troubles that swirl in the grey cloud or linger in the winter-chilled grass, the kitchen always holds the keys to serenity. I know there are those who see it as silly, less worthy than almost every other thing I could do. But I can't live my life pursuing the gold of others, I've found mine between the flour and butter inside the mixing bowl. 

Despite my passion for baking, it doesn't stop people from walking by the bakery and berating it, however, upon stepping inside the bakery, they discover that it is airy and bright. The front of the shop is all glass with potted plants. The feel of the place is modern yet has a rustic charm at the same time. The coffee I serve is rich and full-bodied, the pastries and baked goods are a feast for the eyes as well as the palate. Each pastry is lovingly hand made in the Romanian style; heavy, dense, hearty and nutritious. My customers tell me that they want to bottle the store's scent and take it home, but at least they get to take the pastries home with them; wrapped in parchment paper and cradled in their arms. 

As I begin finish packing up the bakery I watch the sun fall behind the horizon, painting the sky shades of red and pink. The fading of the sunlight also means the fading of the heat. I collect my things and lock the doors, stepping outside to go home. Wintry air swirls around me taking every bit of warmth it can. I wrap my arms tighter around myself, pulling my coat closed and tucking my chin downward into my pullover. My hair falls loosely around my face, tousled and tangled.  As I walk the streets to the poorly lit bus shelter I suddenly become aware of the gloomy shadow following me. My palms become sweaty and adrenaline courses through my veins, I glance behind myself in search of the source making the noise. Nothing.

I turn back around to be greeted by a tall and lanky man. At first, his eyes are cast to the pavement but then he seemed to suddenly realize he is at his destination. He lifts his head. His long silver hair is tied into a thick braid and held together by a blue bead. He moves closer with eyes that look so deeply into my own. There is something off about that gaze. The mix of green and red in his eyes, unsettling yet mesmerising. I notice the long black and white tunic with red buttons and cuffs paired with a light blue scarf and blue flat shoes. The left side of his lip tugs upwards creating a sinister smirk on his face as he examines the tarot cards he loosely carries.

"My, my...what do we have here?" He asks. 

"A girl who really wants to go home..." I sarcastically reply.

My hands tighten around the satchel slung across my shoulder which conceals various sweets and pastries. From a near window, I notice an inhuman figure standing behind me. Its head is cocked slightly to the right and its back is crooked, making the beast look tired and worn. It just stands still, watching silently. It's so skinny it looks like he doesn't have any muscle at all. His dead caved in eyes are completely black, with small red pupils. I can feel them in the back of my head. It gets closer and closer until it is breathing down the back of my neck...There is stillness on both sides. If our hatred was visible the air would be scarlet.