authors note: kind of a transition chapter, not the best, i apologize. ALSO this fic is obvi not cannon and selina kyle is not in it so i am adapting around that, some events are out of order
PRINCESS OF GOTHAM DEAD
the text scrolled across the screen and you bit your lip.
you bounced your leg as you watched the press release. usually it would be thomas you would be thomas you would be bouncing, but he was making his first public appearance today.
jim gordon was currently standing outside the gotham precinct talking to the reporters where they were all hungry for bruce’s appearance.
everyone had decided it be necessary to have thomas be there as no one would believe you dead if thomas were no where to be found either.
gordon stepped up to the mic. everyone had been in arms about your ‘death’ as you were a far different target than the mayor, the commissioner, and the da.
“it is with great sorrow to announce that y/n y/l/n was tragically murdered last night by the riddler. we know this without a doubt and we are using all of our resources to find him. a tape has been leaked of y/n’s death and we are advising the public not to listen out of respect of her family. now a word from mr. wayne, her fiancé.” jim finished.
bruce walked out of the precinct doors carrying thomas. bruce stepped up to the mic and cleared his throat, “this is the second person the riddler has hurt because of me. first alfred, now y/n.” thomas started to whine, “this is our child, thomas bruce wayne jr or tommy as y/n called him. he’s without a mother now.” you could see the pain in bruce’s face as he spoke these words as they were his biggest fears and he needed to make it seem realistic.
you swallowed hard you were worried about the two of them being in such a public place when the riddler was clearly obsessed with him.
“she was a great woman and an even better mother. i should have made better use of our time together. that’s all, thank you.” bruce said and walked back inside as the reporters went wild with questions.
your heart broke, seeing the pain in bruce’s eyes knowing he meant every word of it. tears streamed down your face as you clicked off the tv.
“would you like some tea, ms. y/n?” you heard the voice around the corner, wiping the tears away from your cheeks.
you stood up, “dotty?” you asked softly. you knew she was around, but you hadn’t seen her during your arrival last night.
“i didn’t mean to interrupt. i made you tea. i thought you might like some.” she said, walking in and presenting you tea, just how you liked it.
“you remembered.” this made the tears come falling again and your knees buckled. dotty had always made you tea when you weee upset when you were a teenager, it had been a staple comfort item and a bonding moment between the two of you.
dotty quickly put the tray down and rushed to your side, “sweet girl, everything will be alright. you’re home safe again. we will take care of you.”
you leaned into her shoulder, just as you had when you were a young teenager, “how can anything be the same?” you whispered.
“well it won’t be and it shouldn’t be. there’s a baby now. and if that doesn’t make you want to work things out with him, i don’t know what will.” she said, stroking your hair.
you sniffled, “i’m just so worried about him.”
“well aren’t we all, but now he has someone to come home to besides just me and silly alfred.”
you hugged her a final time, “thank you dot.”
your phone beeped and you looked at it. it was a text from bruce with a link to a news article titled SECRET LOVE CHILD OF LATE Y/N Y/LN AND BRUCE WAYNE? FIND OUT MORE TONIGHT
you swore, you knew that meant reporters would be swarming the manor trying to get more pictures of thomas, especially after that pressconference. there was nowhere safe for them to go in gotham. you needed to find the riddler and be done with this, fast.
thankfully, bruce and tommy would have a police escort back to the house later, but you had gone down to start analyzing the latest letter. as you were about to shut down the computers a pattern in the code caught your eye of your initials. you erased all of those symbols which pertained and it spelled out perfect, ‘44’.
you felt sick, you never wanted to step foot in the iceberg lounge or 44 below again. your last name was a legend in that club because of your father as he was known to take any hit job no matter the target, no questions asked. a year after he had killed your mother, you went looking for answers and had a horrible encounter with falcone and the penguin. if it hadn’t been for young bruce, you wouldn’t have made it out alive.
but you knew you were the only one who was going to get in, even if you were supposed to be dead.
Summary: You haven’t seen Bruce for weeks now. He’s been so busy being Batman that he’s seemingly forgotten about you. You’ve accepted a job offer in another city and haven’t been able to tell him. Will he convince you to stay? Reader uses she/her pronouns.
Warnings: Angst with fluffy ending because I need happiness.
Word Count: 4038
A/N: I finally got around to writing my Battinson x Reader fanfic! I have more ideas, but I’m in the middle of finals which is why this took so long to get to. Hopefully in a few weeks I’ll have more time to dedicate to writing but for now, I hope you enjoy this!
No matter how many times you walk up the steps to Wayne Manor, it’s still intimidating. You and Bruce had been best friends since you were kids. Your first encounter was not one you’re particularly proud of.
You were born into poverty and grew up knowing that money was hard to come by. Though you were young, you wanted to help your mom financially—that is, before she abandoned you—so you became a pickpocket. It was easy since your height made you hard to notice.
You had only done it a few times when you made a mistake. You noticed the Wayne family out and about one day. They weren’t surrounded by security, so you saw your chance. Even as a kid you knew about the famous Waynes. You looked at them and then noticed a nice-looking watch on young Bruce’s arm. Apparently, you had picked the wrong target.
As soon as you touched the watch, Bruce turned around and looked at you. You froze, your instincts telling you to run but you were too scared to move. Bruce looked confused. He then looked at his watch and then back to you, figuring out what it was you were after. Your face felt hot and just as you turned to leave you saw Bruce taking off the watch.
“I never liked it anyway,” he said to you. Your confusion only grew when he extended his arm with the watch in his open palm. You were too scared and confused to move. But Bruce just pushed his arm out further.
A note from Lucy:Oops, my hand slipped. Bruce is now in therapy. And you should be too. Yes I wrote this instead of revising for that all important psychology paper two tomorrow. Yes, that was the aim. Also, I KNOW, it’s not a healthy therapist/client relationship…but this is fiction, people, GODDAMN IT! IT IS WHAT I WANT IT TO BE! I also know that this is shitty…i’ll get round to editing it properly later (maybe?). But that’s not the point- the point is…Follow the batboys lead, get some help (and let me know if you want a part two). Now shut up, Lucy, go to sleep, its 2:40 am here and you have exams-
“We spoke last week about coping mechanisms; More specifically, living with this anger you described.” You were flipping through your notes from the last session you two had and what seemed the most pressing at the moment to Bruce. Bruce nodded from his seat in the chair opposite you. He was sort of slumped into it, his head lowered into his chest as he avoided eye contact. Or maybe it was just to avoid the mere sight of you. “You said you get frustrated often.” That same glassy look occupied his face, very brooding and serious. And then his brow creased. He shook his head in another curt nod. “What with?”
For the first time in twenty minutes he looked at you. Which was impressive considering it was an hour long session today. Something dangerous flashed behind those blue eyes. Bruce was hiding something. You could tell from the way he shifted in his seat, the way he closed himself off from you, the person he had come to in order to ‘open up’.
“People.” You raised your eyebrow, aiming for an elaboration. But Bruce seemed entrapped by something hidden in his mind.
The feeling of his fist colliding with skin shot hot thrills through his spine. The bruising peppered over his knuckles would have been a sign to reign it in but he just couldn’t. Not when the feeling of the thugs bone cracked under his own clenched, balled hand was screaming to be felt again. It was electrifying.
Not all people crave physical contact in the same way. Some people seek it out in violence.
“Their disrespect.” You have gotten used to these one or two word answers. Mr Wayne was certainly a silent man. But you had a feeling it was loud in his own head. A person’s head is his own space for him to voice his thoughts. Not everyone feels the need to let their opinions be shown in the stentorian daylight colours. It was such a specific hue that not everything looked as pretty as it was once earlier perceived. Lighting can be everything.
“For what?”
This man had been following a woman for the past few blocks and Batman had been following him. It was all about timing with this duty. He never went into something without taking the correct precautions. That’s why he waited until now to drag the man’s flailing body into a dark alleyway to be dealt with.
His hand clamped down like a vice over his mouth, the attacker’s hands flying to his own aid as he clawed at Batman’s arm. His nails were nowhere near enough to even scratch at the armour the Batman had on. It was at the dead end of the alley that the man was flung at the wall, his hood falling off to reveal a skinhead beneath.
The figure of vengeance and darkness itself didn’t say a single word as the man uttered out pleas to be let go and that he ‘would never do it again’. And he didn’t say anything when pummeling him into the grubby concrete, a steady stream of blood dribbling from his chin now, swirling with saliva, the mixture lacing his gums and teeth that looked darker in these specific shadows.
“For you?” He looked almost disgusted that you would ask such a question, anger heating slightly in the pit of his stomach, yet not to a boil. That frustration you spoke of soon entered the equation again. You knew from the way his fists clenched, almost gouging at the armrests to the chair opposite you. His knuckles, usually purple, drew white from the tension held so stubbornly within them. The sharp bone of his knuckles kept his skin tight, cracking them slightly as he ignored the new sting as his old cuts opened up.
“You think I have a superiority complex?” You shook your head with a small chuckle. Superior complex? No. Saviour complex? Maybe…you didn’t know enough yet.
“You haven’t answered my question yet. You answer mine, I answer yours. That’s how a conversation works, Mr Wayne.” He had grown accustomed to your slight humour in the past few and a bit months. He would be lying if he didn’t find it attractive in some way.
“For other people.” You noted this down on the page of your notebook. Bruce let out a drawn out breath, looking just out of your eyeline. Back to square one. As per usual.
“And that’s what-“ you paused, trying to think of a way to put this, “makes you angry.” There was a pregnant pause between your question and his answer, setting you on edge slightly.
“It confuses me more than anything.” You sighed in relief internally.
“How so?”
“I have a voice in my head. People’s blatant disrespect sets it off.” You furrowed your brow when Bruce hid back into himself, his hands meeting in his lap now to fiddle with his already blunt nails. Bruce felt his stomach twist and his throat tighten. Never before had he spoken about him with you. He was too terrified of letting something slip.
Rain poured into his eyes, running down the sharp slope of his nose, down the cowl that sealed his identity from Gotham’s vicious headlines, and tabloids, and criminal population. His teeth gritted- his hands tightening around the throat of a man he cared not about. Part of him felt a rush from having his life quite literally in the palm of his hands.
Their eyes soon tinted red, face burning up red, then purple, his lips becoming blue. The sight must have grounded him, prying this murderous thought from his blackened mind, for his gip loosened.
The man slipped away, scurrying off…and the Batman stared down at his gloved hands in disgust. He didn’t want to be a killer.
“What’s so bad about this voice?”
“It’s violent,” he said, not missing a beat. Something flagged in your mind. He answered too quickly for him to not have thought about this before. The man’s chest rose with an inhale, but did not fall with an exhale. You continued slowly, noticing how his shoulders drew up and he tensed.
“Why do you think that is?”
“There is violence in everything.”
“Could you think of an example?” He studied you for a second, striking blue eyes darting around your face. Studied you the way you study ice to see if it’s safe to walk on.
“Stars. We watch them burn to relax. That’s not beautiful. That’s destructive.”
“And you see people as the same.” He nodded. “The voice contributes to that, I’m guessing.”
“Sometimes I find it hard to separate it from the rest of my thoughts. It’s there to be what I feel I can’t be as Bruce Wayne.”
“It’s too often that our own worst enemy is the version of ourselves we create in our own head. And it’s difficult because it’s a part of you and therefore knows what gets you the most. We have to remember that this voice would be nothing without Bruce Wayne. But Bruce Wayne is still everything without it.” You purse your lips, thinking of what to do next. Bruce Wayne was too much of a puzzle to know right off the bat. “Have you tried journaling?”
It always took Bruce a while to shed the skin of The Batman. Every night he would take off the cowl, the suit, the boots, the gloves. But it was never enough. He was still left with those thoughts that he had to remember. Pushing himself. Finding a limit. And pushing it some more.
Bruce’s thoughts tangled into the Batman’s and he struggled with which identity was who. Bruce got angry, The Batman cowered in shadows. Sometimes he would go out, a mix of him and this monster he made. A drifter. Dark circles from sleepless, troubled and haunted nights hid under black paint pasted over Bruce’s eyes. Or maybe it was Batman’s eyes? The eyes of vengeance personified. He had no idea who they belonged to anymore. When he saw violence it was the Batmans. Any other time they were Bruce’s. He loathed it,
The Batman could not quail…or this whole idea was for nothing. He needed a way to separate the two. Or maybe merge them together completely?
He shook his head, “No.”
“You could try it. A few of my other clients use it to ‘thought track’ as it were. When they feel scared, or confused,” you said, gesturing to him, ‘they write it down. They say it helps to see the words on paper before they have a chance to…run away and hide, per say.” He was silent. Bone chillingly so. It was hard to see through the shadows the higher planes of his face created, but he grimaced.
Offering a small smile to him, you closed your notebook. This whole conversation- hell, whole session- couldn’t help but get you thinking as you paused, noticing how he shifted again in his seat. “This is off record, I won’t write it down…but-” You tried not to stare him down and give the worried-shrink-look. “Do you, as just Bruce, feel threatened by this voice and the expectations it places upon you?”
‘Shit’, he thought.
Maybe you had found out? He went to shake his head ‘no’, but paused halfway through. He couldn’t bring his eyes to meet yours, you were looking so intently at him that it almost burned up his neck. An army of goosebumps arose on the back of his neck.
“Sometimes.” The man croaked. It was hardly a whisper out of his lungs and more an exhale. Your pupils traced along the sharp contours of his face, his jaw, the slope of his nose, still in that contorted, painful position. His jaw was set on edge as if he was clenching his teeth together so hard they would crack. He felt he might crack. He couldn’t crack. His head swayed from left to right. You tilted yours, your tongue drawing your bottom lip into the confines of your teeth. “It takes a lot to ignore.”
“Do you ignore it because of this pressure?”
“I think…It’s hard to tell. I don’t know if I want that to be Bruce Wayne. I don’t know what else to do to stop it interfering with my life.”
You found it interesting how as soon as you had closed your book he had started to say more. Not limiting himself to a few words each time you asked a question.
“There are many things to help deal with intrusive thoughts, Bruce.” You crossed your legs, the position you were once in growing uncomfortable as you leaned forward in your seat slightly. “Exercise, diet…sleep.”
“I exercise.”
“Regularly?”
“Daily.” You didn’t know why it was such a shock. It’s not like he wasn’t a conventionally attractive man to look at. But he seemed to hide beneath the layers of loose and dark clothing. Today’s choice being a pair of deep blue jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt. Nondescript. Under the radar. That was Bruce Wayne in a nutshell.
“What-” But Bruce had pre-empted your question before the words had the chance to escape your lips.
“Boxing. Martial arts.” The bruises on his knuckles made more sense now. How they never seemed to fade. It was something you made a note of in your very first session. “I don’t want to cause harm to people that don’t deserve it.”
Bruce’s keen blue eyes flicked over to the clock above your head and then the window to where it had started to grow dark under the thick blanket of Gotham’s smog. He had done this a total of five times so far this session. It added a hint of reason behind his skittish nature. The bounce of his leg and the way he seemed…elsewhere. “I have to go.” He stood up much faster than you did…or could have even anticipated. Something didn’t add up to you. He was definitely hiding something from you.
“Goodbye.”
“Uh-” He was gone. Out the door. Just after slinging his jacket over his shoulders. You moved to the window, eager to see him go. Maybe the reason for his abrupt departure lay outside on the grimy street below. He jogged down the steps to the building, glancing up at the sky before continuing with his hood drawn up down the pavement, the only trace of him being his breaths made visible from the biting cold air. You leaned forward, cheek almost pressing up to the cold glass pane, trying to get a glance at the sky. It was out, the bat symbol. He was out.
“Goodbye, Mr Wayne.” You muttered, moving to your desk and taking a seat there, opening up your notebook to translate rough notes into his file.
Hasn’t tried journaling yet…ask about it next session → maybe to see it.
Something certainly didn’t make sense here as the mystery of Bruce Wayne seemed much deeper than meets the eye. No. There was definitely more. Something darker. It smelled of mystery, made your head hurt to think about and caused a prickling of curiosity to ignite at your fingertips. Taking your pen, it took a moment for it to reach the paper, but when it did you scribbled out anything and everything he had said the moment you had closed your notebook.
“Feel threatened by this voice”…“the expectations it places upon you”…
“I don’t know if I want that to be Bruce Wayne”
His knuckles, usually purple, drew white from the tension held so stubbornly within them. They never seemed to fade.As soon as you had closed your book he had started to say more. Under the radar. Bruce’s keen blue eyes flicked over to the clock above your head and then the window. It was out, the bat symbol. He was out.
A gasp ripped from your lungs as your pen tumbled from your hands, clattering to the lino floor. In the rush of your thoughts you had drawn a mindmap to try and organise the chaos and it has worked. It all made sense now. Each branch linking together and each bubble providing another piece of evidence for your hypothesis. And in the centre; a name. His name; Bruce Wayne.
The stains of red on her ledger from her time spent with them spanned back further to a dim time she preferred to forget. The mission had struck her interest instantly and Ra’s knew it without a firm acknowledgement from her. It had all been leading up to this, a thought in the back of her mind each day. To right the wrong and confirm the true agenda behind her family’s murder. Vengeance was a key motivator and a cruel killer of the innocence within the child from before. She knew to hold this sword would be the last part of her trauma reviving to live another day and extinguish the girl that was once there all those years ago.
Bruce’s knowledge of the League was scarce, a slight encounter with a few assassins and whispers of the Demons’ Head around Gotham’s elite criminals. And so, unveiling all that was a part of her would ruin everything they’d built together since the moment they saved each other from a far greater destruction at their own hands.
Whispers of the pained cries and yells reverberated in her head. The orders and strike of a blade, ripping her skin for lost attention, something she would pay far greater focus to avoid in the upcoming training. Each day, working to be the better version of yourself; all to attain the revere of the teacher. To hold the title of the skilled and disciplined meant achieving the status of a shadow, including completing initiation. The first kill is-was always the most difficult. The hesitation and the voice telling you not to raise the blade. But you came this far, why stop now? You did everything in the name of your family. They were not offered the same mercy, nor were their innocence or good deeds regarded. Each time, each mission, she stared into the face of corruption and greed with the mindset of something far greater in mind; the people she was saving by preventing the anguish unleashed by these criminals.
In the veil of her thoughts that rushed through her mind, she managed to open the front door before collapsing against the hard wood and sliding to the floor. A dread washed over her body, a melancholy echo that wrecked her as she hushed cries beneath a shaky palm. Sobs wracked Y/N’s body while she breathed in and out, the image of Bruce’s disappointment fresh in her mind. Regret for having trusted someone when the facts pointed toward contradiction.
***
A pang struck Bruce’s chest, watching the close of the elevator receding to the top floor. The remnants of hushed whispers hinged a stillness within the air that his mind rewound to navigate. He flickered from the place where she stood with shaky eyes, clutching the drive tightly as it disappeared in his hand.
His body moved of its own accord, travelling to the computer and logging the familiar details as he plugged the drive into the port. And it began.
The images flashed in his eyes, one after the other with each click. A flourish of files and photographs; assignment details, locations, collection data. From whom, Bruce wasn’t too sure. Save for blackened lines, the facts important to him was an image he stopped on. His heart dropped, bracing over the realisation coming to fruition.
The reflection illuminated in his eyes as he ran over the features once more. A branch of the past, a more youthful version of the woman he knew, but this one held a much greater contempt in her eye. A distrust of the world holding her guard up and close by to void off the hurtful grasp of the world around her. And with it, she held her weapon in haste, a forward act in for vengeance in this cruel world. Through all of it, Bruce halted, his hand moving from the screen as his head drew to the desk. The pieces of her left behind in the jumper she borrowed form him thrown over the work desk, or the sticky notes she left behind to remind him to eat and sleep, to do all of the things he often forgot.
The creaking of the elevator reached his ears and soon Alfred calling his name before Bruce recognised the man standing over his shoulder. Alfred’s voice grew hushed as he looked back at the screen. The masked figure, the bottom of their face covered with the eyes clear for them to see. The files rushed away, a hand pulling the drive out with a click as Bruce’s glazed eyes defaulted to his hands clutching the drive. Alfred had just left from the office after witnessing the fallen tears streaking her face as she halted in her step, a guilty look tearing her face before she stepped away and shut the front door behind her.
“Bruce…”
The man’s mouth shut in response, unsure of where to go with his mind torn between the truth and the image he had of her in his mind. What lies therein in the truth of what you know and have learned versus the supposed truth handed to you. How did one discern perception from facts when emotions were involved. Such strong feelings as these tied the strings around Bruce’s hands and heart as it constricted with an overwhelming pull toward the depths of uncertainty. Not knowing was something Bruce was familiar with, but always dismissed its choking hold and turning to uncover the truth.
“I don’t know what to do.” he confessed.
Alfred blinked, glancing down at the distraught on Bruce’s face. The glint in his eyes every moment they spent together, something he had become unfamiliar after his parents passing. The glossiness to Bruce’s eyes as he clutched the drive with a determination to hold the answer and yet it faulted with each tragic second.
“I think you do.” Alfred murmured, “I think you know better than anyone. All of our actions are not what define us. Our past isn’t a clear track into our future. I think you know exactly how you feel about her, Bruce. You need to decide for yourself.”
A beat passed as Bruce exhaled and Alfred’s response arrived, a murmur in the quiet.
“Do you want to know what I see in that photograph?”
“I see a cruel world. A girl trying to survive with the cards that she’s been dealt. If you care for her, you’ll talk to her. About why she is here.”
***
A stillness resided over the house, just as it had a few days prior. No word from Bruce solidified the answer in her mind to the latter of her presumptions on his impression. She had been afraid of this result all along, and yet, it was still better than the depths of her nightmares where the darkest realms of guilt and horror existed.
Tears dropped down her cheeks, a huff escaping Y/N while she looked through the window into grim day sweeping the street. It was a brutal cold that bit at anything it could reach, sweeping the barren streets in a mist that nipped at your fingers and consumed your lungs. Although, the knock at her front door was more so a stilting event, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Y/N’s sight wavered as she caught the gaze of the person upon opening the door.
A shaky breath escaped her, echoing his name as she stared at him, unsure of what exactly to expect. She closed her agape mouth and read his expression, gulping down her anxieties as she held the door open for him. He was in his right to answers, if that was what he came there for. She stared down at the coffee table between them, Bruce stood opposite, not moving to take a seat on the couch.
“Aren’t you going to ask if I…” he breathed, unsure if he was truly going to say it until she visibly recoiled.
“I don’t think I need to.” she gulped, “Whatever your reasons are for being here, I can’t-” she clenched her eyes shut. “I can’t fault for you wanting to know the truth. Whether you read it or not. I-I understand-”
“The betrayal? Guilt?”
His words struck her as Y/N whipped her head up, witnessing the masked calm in Bruce’s eye replaced with an intensity she couldn’t quite discern. She fell quiet, waiting for him to continue while he studied her closely. “You lied to me, and you never once said anything about it.” he wore an inquisitive look as he stood tall in his dark coat. “If there’s anything I know well, its loss.”
She remained quiet, watching him with this unsure look that he hadn’t witnessed before. He wasn’t sure if she would blink with how she trained her focus on him, almost unassured if he would disappear at any moment and leave.
His throat grew tight while he restrained a shiver from the memories, “Alfred could tell you better, all of the summers I spent looking for something-somewhere to belong.”
Bruce looked over at her figure leaned against the bench, arms held to her chest, not protectively, but certainly guarding something rather close to herself. The unsettling silence between them was obvious with the shivers running along his arms. Discerning where they stood was just another uncomfortable conversation left unspoken.
“I’ve been looking for something to give me purpose. The Batman was one part of it, but it was the people of this city that showed me who I needed to be.” he exhaled, “I needed something to run toward.”
He closed his eyes, squinting behind the burning sensation as the sight of her unshed tears moved him. “I don’t care about your past. Whether you tell me or you keep those parts to yourself…Your future is my privilege.”
She whispered his name, confusion filling her until he retrieved something from his pocket, revealing the tarnished remains of the drive in many pieces. Wide eyed, she flickered from his palm to his eyes, an almost dream-like state gazing upon the source of every tarnished memory.
“Why-you had every right to read it and to know.” her face twisted.
“I know the kind of person you are from here and now. I don’t need to know everything about your past to understand where you stand now.”
She finally felt the pressure release from her chest, tears falling free before she felt Bruce’s arms pull her into his chest. Her fingers clenched around his coat, scrunching the fabric as she inhaled the familiar and comforting cologne.
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear those words.”
Bruce rested his chin on her head, sighing in relief “I couldn’t bear to lose you. I thought it over enough and through everything…you never hesitated. I am sorry I didn’t do the same.”
She shook her head, returning to catch his gaze “I wouldn’t have expected any different. You deserve to know.”
“And that is entirely up to you. I-I want you to do this on your terms. Not because of someone’s agenda.” his fingers wiped her cheeks, causing Y/N to gently shut her eyes and her breath hitched.
She nodded her head encouragingly, truthfully walking into a path of acceptance and entrusting him with every part of her, “I’m ready.”
As the World Caves In (10/?) - Bruce Wayne x Reader
Summary: A lead takes a stark turn with the unexpected unravelling of secrets upon them.
Author’s Note: new chapter update from series. Will probably end at 16 parts. Comment to be tagged. Follows Court of Owls plotline.
Pairing:Bruce Wayne x fem! reader
Warning:canon-level violence, slight angst
Masterlist
The rain settled over the choking harvest of the evening as the city rested and the felons came out. It was an unsettling resonance that trembled along the street’s alleys, a shudder running up the spine at an echo around the corner. Rain pummelled against the windows of a towering hospice, the shadows darkening further upon a closer look between the rigid windows caving inward.
A window cracked from above, an opening to the outside as the rain dribbled through and a body dropped down. The figure slowly lowered their body from the line, waiting a moment before their accomplice followed. The room was empty, bare the furniture and table to the side. Looking at the Bat, she silently moved to the door, not wanting to alarm any person to their presence. Her hand slowly grasped the handle, opening it to allow a peek outside. The hallway was dark, an unsettling silence resting over the barren level. The pair glanced at each other, unassured and followed through as they cautiously stepped toward the room in question.
A palpating noise thundered in her ears in front of the door, a hand ghosting over the blade on her back. Not a moment sooner, did his hand cover her’s and he looked down at her, sensing her hesitation and twisted the handle. The door fell open and her heart shuddered at the true darkness enveloping the room. A waft reached them, the choking smell of rot causing her eyes to water as Bats shone a light to the dark.
Confusion fills her room, a shiver ran down her back at the sight of the people surrounding the grand table. The chilling silence blanketed by the vacant look in some of their eyes, others resting their heads blankly on the table. Her feet wandered, crossing to the nearest person. Bruce studied them, slowly moved around the table to capture every detail and more closely to the head of the table. Her hand ghosted a woman’s neck, a lack of warmth from the bodies.
“All dead.” she remarked, “Poison?”
Bruce’s eyes drew to the bowls and cups placed in front of them, “Something like that.”
“The question is, who?” she glanced around the room, focused on the masks.
“It doesn’t make sense.” he paused.
She murmured in response, watching as he tilted his head and studied the layout. Something was missing from this setup, aside from the rest.
“They were a ghost not so long ago and now they’re all dead.” she turned to look at him pointedly. “What does that tell you?”
“In death, we take away your clarity.” he murmured, catching her gaze.
***
Bruce steadied her as they reached the roof before he looked over her shoulder at a moving shadow in his plane of sight, the eyes watching him from the rooftop opposite. Following his gaze, Y/N locked onto the beady eyes and her resolve hardened before they both moved in tandem to slink toward the departing figure. The Talon moved quickly, but the Batman was adept at tracking closely as he grappled them onto the rooftop.
Flipping onto her front, Y/N pushed off into a sprint on foot, Bruce on her heels. The Talon is close as he flipped and somersaulted to stay ahead. She stayed right up there until she flipped, throwing a dagger to catch him off guard. His wince gave Bruce the right opening to grapple and wrench the assassin back.
Wiping the blood from her mouth, she watched as Bruce and the Talon wrestle. The latter lands a blow that causes her to wince at the crack reaching her ears, a groan escaping Bruce before she moved forward and swiped her katana at his side. He dropped Bruce and turned toward her, releasing his own weapon to draw against it. He pushed forward and Y/N’s feet followed suit, losing her grip on the katana as he swiped at her hand with a claw.
A gasp hitched her breath as she darted out of the way of a strike, rolling onto her feet. Wide eyed, Y/N somersaulted into a stance and reached out for her fallen katana as Talon’s fingers brushed the handle. The weight in her hand pulled it back to her as she held it firmly, staring down her opponent. The eyes studied her for a glimpse before leaping off again. Bruce’s fist hit him, throwing him off before Y/N’s foot struck his chest. The two worked in time to meet each blow with a powerful response, throwing even her katana between them.
The final remark came with Bruce pummelled his fist into Talon’s windpipe, his back crashing against the ground with a final blow to the chest from Y/N. It’s not long before he’s restrained and the trickle of the rain becomes apparent along with the pounding of her heart.
The beady eyes stare back, a formidable wall that remains still and unmoving as Bruce’s hushed voice intercepts.
“You killed them. Why?”
A beat passed and no response was received before Y/N wrenched the mask off. Beneath it was a fairly handsome man with brown hair and a few scars littering his face. His expression was blank as he stared up at her and scanned before moving to Batman.
“What was your goal?” Y/N murmured, drawing the Talon’s attention with a twitch of the neck in her direction.
“I’m merely here to play to win. What are you doing?” he hinted.
“Not exactly a fair playing field when you pre-emptively murder your opponents.” Y/N chided.
“The Court of Owls doesn’t regard you as the threat you present yourself as.” drawing its gaze up. “You’re merely a speck in the line of millions that have come before. A cancerous cell to be cut out.”
“And the people in there? Where are the rest?” Bruce pressed, Y/N watching him in the corner of her eye.
A chuckle caught in his throat, the Talon resting on his knees “Always asking the wrong questions. Wouldn’t you rather know about your family, Bruce?”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed as his heart shuddered in his chest, glancing at Y/N in his periphery. The Talon turned to her, murmuring her name to watch her freeze.
“Their true part?” he paused, watching as the pair froze and a silence settled over the rooftop. “Both of your families have a history of philanthropy in Gotham. Surprise to no one, their hands are a little bit less than clean.”
“What are you talking about?” Bruce grunted.
Her grip was tight on the katana at her side, eyes shaking as the Talon tilted his head.
A laugh left him, “History. It’s all fabricated and whatever isn’t well, how could you tell the difference? In time, you’ll come to know that going against the Court, your end is imminent, as is the lifeline of the city’s fellow victors. Your own family had a large part in favouring the Court of Owls’ long work. Generations have seen it through. We Talons have been the ones handing out their favour.”
“You mean taking away their free will.” her gaze fell to Bruce’s clenched fists, “Murder.”
“You talk as if they deserve any better.” he chuckled darkly, “What you don’t know about Gotham is the people, no matter where they’re from, they are all if not easily corruptible. Even the likes of you-a little incentive, and it all comes down.”
The Talon turned, his eyes lingering over her “What a surprise you were. After all that your family staked in this city.”
The murmur of her name on his lips was unsettling, “Your return was nothing if not a reckoning.” striking a pang of nerves in Bruce’s chest at his words. Her eyes shook, refuting the claims with a clench of her jaw. “All of the names on your ledger,” he tutted, “The things I’ve heard…I’m frankly confused at the company you keep.” he smirked, “I thought we would suit each other far more-”
The next thing on his lips would refute everything she had built before she snapped, “I’ve heard enough-” she replied, stepping forward as a snap sounded and he lunged.
Striking her katana aside, he pulled her against his chest. Her hands pulled at the sharp claws to hold them back as the grip on her neck tightened and she gasped out a choking sound. Bruce’s furious expression stared at Talon as he held her close to his face, raising a fury as he reached for his weapon.
“While I’d love to stay and go over all of this, including all of your little secrets, I’d better be going.” whispering the last bit in her ear as she seethed, pressing away. He watched Batman narrow his eyes before he pressed her closer to his chest and took a step back. As Bruce reached for his utility belt, the Talon leapt off the roof and into the darkness.
Bruce overlooked the roof, his arms supporting her as she caught her breath. She assured him, brushing the gloved hand over her arm with the unsettling remnants of the conversation residing. It was when he refused to meet her gaze that sent a pang rushing through her chest. A silence cut through the thundering in his chest as he turned away. She reached her hand out, his name a desperate whisper on her lips, with the sway of his cape against her fingers, the lasting impression of his departure.
Summary: While out on a date, you feel a set of familiar eyes watching you. Reader uses she/her pronouns.
Warnings: Jealous Bruce.
Word Count: 3259
A/N: I’m wrapping up with finals which means back to writing and who better to start with than my favourite bat boy ;)
“‘Many have their own theories behind Bruce Wayne’s reclusive nature, with some suspecting that the billionaire is harbouring a dark secret,’” you read aloud. You’re flipping through a trashy magazine you picked up when you saw Bruce’s name on the cover. Your words echo throughout the Batcave as you lean back in an office chair you claimed as your own. You liked that it reclined.
Beside you, Bruce Wayne is seated in front of his multi-screened monitor, silently watching videos he recorded as Batman. In the beginning you would watch with him but eventually you realized it was all very similar and you got bored.
It was a complete accident that you found out his secret. You had been Bruce’s friend for years, always trying to bring a bit of fun and joy into the man’s otherwise gloomy life. You had been on your way to do just that, ready with a batch of cookies that he always says he doesn’t want but you know he secretly does. You knocked at the door and Dory let you in. You went wondering around the house and stumbled upon a hushed conversation between Bruce and Alfred in the office. Feeling nosy, you listened in:
“I don’t want to go,” you heard Bruce say. Alfred sighed.
“I understand that Master Bruce, but I think it would be in your best interest to go,” Alfred responded.
“Why? To negotiate business deals?” Bruce scoffed.
“That and I think it’s important you keep up with public appearances. People are starting to get suspicious,” Alfred said which made you confused as to what he was talking about. Then he said: “After all, you wouldn’t want anyone to find out that Bruce Wayne doubles as a bat-themed vigilante at night.”
“Alfred no one’s gonna—” Bruce stopped himself as a gasp escaped your mouth. He slowly opened the door to find you standing there with your mouth wide open. Bruce and Alfred had both looked panicked, but Bruce tried to act as if nothing had happened. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s private conversations—”
“You’re Batman?!” you shouted. Bruce and Alfred both tried to explain themselves, but it was clear that the cat was out of the bag. Or rather, the bat.
At first you were a little mad at Bruce for not telling you, but you got over it. You understood the importance of the secret. After that you wouldn’t leave him alone about it. Eventually he brought you to the Batcave, which he would come to regret as you fell in love with the place and decided that it was your new hangout spot.
Which brings you to leaning back in your chair, trying to distract Bruce while he ignores you, which annoys you. You had hoped reading from this magazine would grab his attention. “‘Some theorists have claimed to have caught glimpses of the allusive man from his manor’s windows. One even claimed to have seen him shirtless, and described the image as unbelievably hot and—’”
“It does not say that,” Bruce says before reaching over and snatching the magazine from your hands. His scrunched-up face only makes you laugh harder when he throws the magazine onto the floor.
“Oh come on, that was funny!” you say through giggles. But Bruce just rolls his eyes and goes back to work. At least you got a reaction out of him, you thought. You were desperate for his attention for two reasons: 1) Along with being his best friend for years, you also harboured a little tiny crush on the man and loved every second you got to spend with him and 2) You were bored.
You sigh before reaching down to pick up the magazine and continue reading it in silence. A moment later, you hear the elevator door ding and look up to see Alfred emerge.
“Hey Alfred,” you say with a smile, happy for new company.
“Hello Miss Y/N,” he says as he approaches you and Bruce. But of course, Bruce doesn’t glance up from his monitors. “I was wondering if you would be joining us for dinner this evening?”
“I’d love to, but I have plans,” you say with a sigh.
“Plans?” you hear Bruce say as he joins the conversation. He’s still staring at his screens. You narrow your eyes before turning back to Alfred.
“Yeah, I have a date.”
“Adate?” Bruce says. He finally tears his eyes away to look at you with wide eyes. You feel suddenly on the spot. You didn’t really plan on bringing this up, not wanting an interrogation. Like this one.
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” you say, frustrated. Bruce blushes and directs his gaze to the floor. His jaw clenches. You give him an odd look he doesn’t see. Strange,you think, but decide to brush it off. “Yes, I have a date. Which I should go home and get ready for—”
“With who?” Bruce says just as you’re standing to leave. You hope this conversation will wrap up. You didn’t exactly want to talk to the guy you love about some date. But Bruce is looking at you again.
“A guy I met at work.” His name is James, and you hadn’t originally said yes. He had come by the café multiple times and each time asked you out. Not in an aggressive way, he backed down once you said no but he still asked every time he came, hoping for a different response. Yesterday when he asked you again, you actually thought about it. You hadn’t been on a date in a while thanks to a certain crush and it would hopefully take your mind off things. So you said yes, which took the man by surprise, but he eagerly arranged a date for tonight.
“So a complete stranger.” You huff, not understanding why Bruce is giving you such a hard time about this.
“Yes, that’s how dating works Bruce. You meet someone and get to know them and then—”
“I get it,” he says, looking away. You wonder what has gotten into him. Here you were, spending your whole afternoon with him while he barely said a word, and now suddenly he’s drilling you with 20 questions.
“Well, have fun,” Alfred says, and you’re grateful for his kind words breaking up your angry thoughts.
“Thank you, Alfred,” you stress, glaring over at Bruce. He’s still staring anywhere but at you yet hasn’t returned to his monitors. He seems angry and you don’t know why since you’re the one who’s angry. “I’ll see you later.” You smile at Alfred and quickly glance at Bruce who still isn’t looking your way. You roll your eyes before heading towards the elevator, already mentally preparing yourself for the night ahead.
†††
“Turns out, the photocopier was unplugged the whole time!” James says, laughing at his own story. You offer a polite laugh and drink back your wine. The two of you are seated in a fancy restaurant, James’ choice. With your budget, you would have been fine eating take-out. The walls are draped in red with intricate black designs swirling around the room. The lights are low and there’s a candle at every table (thankfully they’re fake). Jazz music emits from the speakers, low enough to have a conversation.
Frankly, you felt out of place. You had put on one of your nicer dresses and thank god you did. You hated that you had no idea where you were going before getting ready. Your tight red dress stops short just past your knees with a slit on the left side.
“So tell me,” James says as he leans on the table. “Do you work at the café full time?”
Normally you’re not too embarrassed by your job, but after he had described his super fancy office job, you start to feel nervous. “Yeah, it’s tough to find good work around here,” you say with a forced laugh. James laughs back.
“You’re telling me. Before this job, I worked at this small office and the cubicle space was ridiculous…” You nod along as he shows you how out of touch he is by comparing a small, cushy office space to working 12-hour shifts at a café. Your eyes move from him to the window beside your table. For some reason, you start to wonder what Bruce is up to right now before mentally kicking yourself for doing the opposite of getting over him. So you force yourself to keep up the conversation with James.
“So what’s your plan?” he asks you and you tilt your head in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I imagine you don’t want to be working at a café your whole life. So what’s your plan?” he asks. Though it’s true you want to find a better job, the way he asked that question was very condescending and you had to bite back a retort. What you want to say is “My plan is to ask my rich daddy to get me a job” but you don’t think he’ll appreciate the joke. Bruce would chuckle at my sarcastic remarks, if they weren’t aimed at him of course. God Y/N stop.
As you think of a way to answer the question and simultaneously keep your mind off of the billionaire, you look out the window once again. Sometimes Gotham can look really nice. Of course, you were in the nicer part of the city but it still gave you hope to see the nice skyline, quiet streets and…
Just as you’re about to turn back to James you spot something on the roof of the building across the street. You squint your eyes and you think you see two pointy ears against the sky. Just as soon as you see them, they’re gone. You’re too surprised to speak, your jaw dropping as you realize what you saw.
“What is it?” James asks, looking at where you’re staring. You quickly remember his presence and regain your composure.
“O-oh nothing, I thought I saw um…never mind,” you chuckle, as you fail to come up with a reasonable explanation. “Back to your question,” you say a bit loudly to pull his attention away from the window, which works. “My plan is to become a writer. I’ve applied to work at a few publishing agencies and soon I’ll be sending out some of my own work,” you say.
“That would be a hard job to find,” he chuckles, and again normally you would have laughed along but it seemed more like he was laughing at you than with you. “It might be time to start considering a real, more attainable job.”
You grip your silverware and wear a tight smile. “Yeah, you might be right,” you say, not wanting to cause a scene by stabbing him with your fork.
“I’d love to read your work sometime though,” he says with a smile. Not a chance, you think as you smile back. The dinner continues and you end up ordering the most expensive meal on the menu. You already know he’s going to insist he pays for the bill so you take advantage of that in compensation for his rude comments.
The whole time, you feel like you’re being watched. Of course, you know you’re being watched but every time you glance back at the roof there’s no sign of anyone. You’re now anxious to wrap the evening up to go investigate.
“Can we get the bill?” James asks.
“Of course,” the waiter says. “Would you like to split the bill?”
“No, dinner’s on me,” he sends a smile your way. You do the obligatory dance of offering to pay yourself and as expected, he reassures you it isn’t a big deal. You think he likes flashing his money.
The two of you walk outside the restaurant and over to where he’s parked his car. “Can I give you a ride home?” he asks.
“No thank you, I’d prefer to walk,” you say, already getting antsy to leave.
“Are you sure?” he gives you an incredulous look. “It’s not always safe walking the streets at night.”
“I can handle myself, trust me,” you say. And if I can’t, then I’m sure someone will swoop down to save me.
“Alright, I know when to give up,” he says. Then comes the part where you have to say goodbye and decide how to end the date. “I had a great time with you.”
“Yeah I did too,” you say. Other than his pretentious attitude, he was still one of your nicer dates. He had his kind and charming moments, and he is kind of cute. As your mind wanders over to the building across the way, an idea pops into your mind.
You take a step closer to James and notice his eyes flicker to your lips. “I-I’d really like to see you again,” he says, his confident nature faltering.
“I’ll think about it,” you say with a teasing smile. Then you step even closer to him and lean up. He meets you halfway and you kiss him. His hands grip your waist and yours rest on his shoulders, not wanting this to go too far. You pull away and he has a dumbstruck look on his face that almost causes you to laugh. He opens his eyes and looks at you in amazement.
“I-I’ll call you,” he says.
“Mmm. See you around,” you say with a smirk on your face, adding to the ambiguity of your response. You then turn around and start to walk away. You wait to hear his car start up and leave before your eyes seek the building.
You cross the street and find a fire escape on the side. You curse at your heels but still step onto the stairs. You climb them all the way to the top where you step onto the roof. It’s empty except for a chimney and an entrance onto the roof from inside.
You walk into the centre of the area. “I know you’re up here Batboy,” you call out. “The shadows can’t hide you forever.”
A moment passes before you see a figure emerge from behind the entrance, from a corner shaded in shadows. As expected, Batman comes into the light. You look at him with a scrutinizing gaze, waiting for him to say something.
You sigh before you say, “Aren’t you even going to try to explain what you’re doing?”
“I’m on a stakeout,” he responds in a register slightly lower than normal. Again, you wait on an elaboration and you receive none.
“And just what exactly are you staking out?” you ask, wanting him to say it.
You watch him realize there’s no getting out of this without the truth. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” he says, his eyes focused on the ground. You snort.
“Yeah right,” you say. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do other than scold and yell at him, which you’re about to do before he speaks up.
“Why did you kiss him?” he asks, looking at you directly. You stutter, not expecting that question.
“So you were spying on me huh?” you say, even if you already knew he was. “And I can kiss whoever I damn well please thank you.”
“Please, you don’t even like the guy,” he says with frustration in his voice.
“Oh and now you’re seriously telling me how I feel? What makes you think you know me so well?” The conversation is escalating as your voices raise.
“Because I do know you. That guy was rude and arrogant–”
“You were listening to us?!” you almost yell, trying to be discreet but your feelings are getting the better of you.
“NoI-I,” he struggles for an explanation before sighing. “I could read your lips.”
“I can’t believe this,” you say with your head in your hands. You look at him. “You’re actually spying on me.”
You see his hands clench. “I’m not spying—”
“This is the definition of spying Br-Batman!” you almost slip with his name, wanting to have a conversation with the man under the mask. You curse at this situation. “How the hell did you even know where I was going to be?”
He opens his mouth to respond before closing it again. A few moments pass before he quietly says, “I tracked you through your phone.”
You let the information settle in before you sigh heavily. “Bruce,” you hiss quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear. You turn around with a hand on your head, trying to get a grip on this situation without your anger getting the best of you.
“I’m sorry but I-I had to.”
“Oh yeah sure. And why’s that?” you ask, still turned away from him.
There’s a silence before he says, “I-I just had to. I…You said you were going on a date and I just, I couldn’t just sitthere. I mean, I—god.”
As you listen to Bruce struggle to express his feelings, a realization hits you. You almost don’t believe it but it adds up. You turn around to look at Batman physically struggling to get his words out.
“Wait, is this because you’re jealous?” He freezes his actions and looks at you with wide eyes. He opens his mouth and stutters but no words form. Though he’s wearing a mask, you can still tell he’s blushing.
“No no that’s not,” he laughs nervously. “That’s not what this is. I-I was just bored and I wanted to see—I missed—I just thought that you would be staying longer and I—”
During his ramblings, a smile blooms on your face. While he’s not looking at you, you approach him until you’re standing in front of him. You hear his breath hitch as his words tangle themselves up.
“Just shut up and kiss me.” His eyes are wide and it takes a moment for your words to process, but when they do he doesn’t hesitate. His lips crash down onto yours and you stumble back at the impact. You giggle into the kiss but don’t stop. You wrap your arms around his neck while his hands travel across your back.
Eventually the two of you separate, out of breath. You can’t stop smiling and it seems like neither can Bruce. “If you wanted me, you just had to ask,” you say teasingly. “Then we wouldn’t have had to go through all this trouble.”
Up close, you notice his blush under his mask and bite your lip as your smile stretches at the sight. “So this was all a ploy to get my attention huh?” he asks, also teasingly.
“No, it was a real date. But I may have hoped to make you a little jealous,” you admit, a blush of your own forming.
“Hmm,” he says grinning. “I just have one question.” You look up. “Who’s the better kisser?” You scoff and smack his shoulder lightly before wrapping your arms around him again.
“I don’t know, I think I’ll need to reassess,” you tease before kissing him again, this time slower and more intimate.
Before you’re done, he pulls away to say, “Wait does this mean you’re going to kiss him ag—” You pull him back into the kiss to stop his talking and he chuckles before returning his attention to your lips. And Bruce is definitely the better kisser.
Summary: You haven’t seen Bruce for weeks now. He’s been so busy being Batman that he’s seemingly forgotten about you. You’ve accepted a job offer in another city and haven’t been able to tell him. Will he convince you to stay? Reader uses she/her pronouns.
Warnings: Angst with fluffy ending because I need happiness.
Word Count: 4038
A/N: I finally got around to writing my Battinson x Reader fanfic! I have more ideas, but I’m in the middle of finals which is why this took so long to get to. Hopefully in a few weeks I’ll have more time to dedicate to writing but for now, I hope you enjoy this!
No matter how many times you walk up the steps to Wayne Manor, it’s still intimidating. You and Bruce had been best friends since you were kids. Your first encounter was not one you’re particularly proud of.
You were born into poverty and grew up knowing that money was hard to come by. Though you were young, you wanted to help your mom financially—that is, before she abandoned you—so you became a pickpocket. It was easy since your height made you hard to notice.
You had only done it a few times when you made a mistake. You noticed the Wayne family out and about one day. They weren’t surrounded by security, so you saw your chance. Even as a kid you knew about the famous Waynes. You looked at them and then noticed a nice-looking watch on young Bruce’s arm. Apparently, you had picked the wrong target.
As soon as you touched the watch, Bruce turned around and looked at you. You froze, your instincts telling you to run but you were too scared to move. Bruce looked confused. He then looked at his watch and then back to you, figuring out what it was you were after. Your face felt hot and just as you turned to leave you saw Bruce taking off the watch.
“I never liked it anyway,” he said to you. Your confusion only grew when he extended his arm with the watch in his open palm. You were too scared and confused to move. But Bruce just pushed his arm out further.
“Take it,” he said. You hesitantly took the watch from the boy’s hand, not taking your eyes off him. Once you had it, Bruce looked around before saying, “Go.”
He didn’t need to tell you twice. With the watch secured, your legs became unstuck and you took off running. Your mom had been impressed with the expensive watch and laughed when you said you took it from the Waynes.
“Serves them right, rich bastards,” she said, her eyes still locked on the watch. For days after you had felt so guilty that you decided to make it up to the nice boy. With the money you hid from your mom, you went out and bought him a present.
The next time you saw Bruce Wayne without any security detail, you nervously approached the boy. You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, recognizing you almost immediately.
“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t have anything more for you,” he said, thinking you had come back for more.
“Actually, I came here to give you this.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a bat stuffed animal. Your hands were sweating as you gave it to him. “I-I know it’s not that cute, b-but it was all I could afford–”
You stopped talking when you saw a smile spread across Bruce’s face. He looked at you and said, “I love it!”
You were so surprised and happy, you smiled back. After that you two got to talking and eventually became friends.
You smile at the memory. Bruce had been your first real friend, and to your knowledge, you were his. Somewhere along the line you developed a crush on him which blossomed into love, but you always kept quiet. It was never worth ruining the friendship. And besides, you knew it was only one-sided.
Now you’re standing in front of his front door, with a plan in mind. You knock on the door and a few moments later, Alfred opens the door. You smile at each other.
“Miss Y/N, please come in,” he says, opening the large door.
“Thank you, Alfred,” you say, stepping into the home.
You always admired the architecture of the home, though it often makes you feel out of place. You live in a small and crappy apartment, what are you doing amongst all this fancy shit? When you were a kid, you were in shock that someone actually lived here. It looked more like a museum or a castle.
The only thing that you didn’t like about the place was how quiet it was. It made what could be a home, so empty and cold.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Alfred asks from behind you. You turn around and smile at him. He always asks you that and you always say yes. I mean, who’s going to pass up a free drink?
“I would love that, thank you,” you say, and Alfred smiles back as he always does. You follow him to a seating area and he tells you to make yourself at home while he fetches the tea. You sit in the same chair you always do.
You think back to when you first met Alfred. You had asked him so many questions, you couldn’t believe that butlers were real! He was patient as he answered every question, even the silly ones. He always made you feel welcome and never treated you differently for being of a lower class, same as Bruce.
You remember one time when you were little you had snuck out to see Bruce, as you often did. It was sometime after his parents had passed away; your visits became more frequent after the incident. Your mother never cared where you went, or even if you came home really, so it wasn’t a problem.
Alfred had made you tea and you accidentally dropped the teacup, shattering it on the floor. You got on your knees and started crying while picking up the pieces. You thought he would get mad at you or hit you. Instead, the butler leaned down and gave you a warm smile while wiping your tears away.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Accidents happen. Bruce once made the same mistake, you know. Perhaps I should invest in some plastic tea cups.”
You smiled once you realized he wasn’t mad. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen while he poured another cup. You were very careful not to drop that one.
Now, Alfred returns with the tea set on a silver platter. He takes his seat across from you and you both silently take a sip. Then, you set down your cup and get to the matter at hand.
“Where’s Bruce?” you ask, causing Alfred to sigh.
“Busy, I’m afraid.” He gives you a sympathetic smile, the same one he’s been giving you for weeks.
Bruce Wayne was always busy these days. Or should you say, Batman was. You found out about his secret life as a vigilante fairly quickly when you noticed a change in Bruce, despite his attempts at hiding it from you. You understand that Batman is important to him, and it’s important to the city, but you haven’t seen your best friend in weeks.
Whenever you came, you would sometimes catch glimpses of him before he retreated to that damn bat cave and Alfred told you he was busy. You’re very frustrated, especially since there’s something you’ve been meaning to tell him.
Just as you are about to march over to that elevator, you hear it ding. You crane your neck to see Bruce emerging wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants. Not exactly the billionaire the public envisions, but it’s the one you know and love.
Before Alfred can interfere, you jump up from your seat and call out, “Bruce!”
He turns to see you and looks like a deer caught in headlights. He seems surprised that you’re here. He knows that if he runs now, you’ll just follow. He looks helplessly at Alfred but it’s too late for that. So instead, you watch him clear his throat and look you in the eyes for the first time in weeks.
“Hi Y/N,” he says. You wait for him to say something along the lines of “Hey, sorry I’ve been avoiding you, I’m so happy to see you!” But instead, he just stands there awkwardly. You know if you get angry with him that you’ll lose your chance so you ignore your rage for now.
“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out,” you ask.
“I can’t, I’m busy,” he says and starts to move away but you step in front of him again.
“But you’ve been busy for weeks,” you say. You see guilt cloud his eyes for a moment. You take a step closer. “I miss you.”
He looks at you and you see his jaws clench. Then he’s looking anywhere but you. “I’m sorry,” he says, before walking away. Your heart drops.
“Bruce wait I—” you try to say, but he’s gone before you can finish. You’re left looking lost. You really needed to tell him but it seems like he barely even cares. You can’t say you didn’t try, you tell yourself, but it still doesn’t feel right.
“I’m sorry about him, Miss Y/N,” Alfred says. You sigh and plaster on a thin smile.
“It’s not your fault, Alfred,” you say. “I understand, he’s doing more important things. I just really needed to talk to him about something.”
Alfred looks like he wants to argue about the “more important things” bit but he knows nothing he can say will change your mind. “Is there anything I can help you with?” he says.
You look up and realize you probably should tell Alfred. And since Bruce isn’t around…
“I’m leaving,” you tell him. You stand strong as you watch the butler’s face falter.
“Leaving where?”
“Metropolis. I’ve been offered a good job in the city and I’m moving there tomorrow,” you say like ripping off a band-aid. Still, your heart breaks a little watching sadness overcome the butler’s face.
“I see,” he says. Your eyes analyse his face, hoping he’d say more.
“I-I know it’s sudden, but the offer was only available for so long and I really need the money and of course I’ll miss you guys but—”
Hands on your shoulders cut you off. You look and see Alfred smile with glassy eyes. The sight causes your eyes to sting. “You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand,” he says. Tears fill your eyes at Alfred’s kindness and understanding, even now. You wrap your arms around his middle and after a moment, he hugs you back.
He’s been the father figure you never had through the years. He always treated you like family. “I really will miss you,” you say, as a tear slips down your face. You hadn’t realized how hard this would be.
“I’ll miss you too.” You tighten your grasp for a moment before you let go. He wipes away your tear and you laugh softly. He’s still taking care of you.
“Don’t forget me while I’m gone,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. You step back and prepare to leave.
“Never,” he says, causing your heart to ache. “Don’t forget to visit.”
“Never.” You both smile at each other. Then you walk towards the door before pausing when you remember something. Turning back to face him, you say, “Oh and don’t tell Bruce. At least not until I’ve left the city.”
Alfred frowns. “Don’t you want to say goodbye?”
You look back towards the elevator doors that separate you from your Bruce. “I think I already did,” you whisper. You look back at Alfred one last time. “Goodbye Alfred.”
“Goodbye Miss Y/N.” You take one last look at Wayne Manor before you leave and close the doors behind you.
†††
This city really never sleeps, you think as the noise from outside floods your apartment. Your window is open because it gets too hot in your apartment and of course your landlord doesn’t add air conditioning units to this dump. That’s one thing you won’t miss. This shitty apartment, the broken-down building, the asshole landlord, and the crazy tenants that you run into every once and a while.
You’re packing away the last of your stuff for the morning. It isn’t much, but you still don’t want to leave any of it behind. You look around the place and think maybe you’ll miss it a bit. After all it was yours.
As you’re folding one of your shirts, a voice rings out, “You’re leaving?”
Your heartbeat picks up and you jump, ready to run when you see the Batman standing on the landing outside your window. His dark figure blocks out the lights from the city and if you didn’t know him, you would be scared.
“Jesus Christ Batman, you scared the shit out of me!” you yell. You almost let slip his real name but you recognized the window is still open and don’t want any risks.
“You’re leaving?” he repeats, as he steps into your apartment. You really didn’t expect this. After your heartbeat slows back down, you start to panic. He wasn’t supposed to know, not like this. Why—
“So, Alfred told you huh?” you scoff, slightly annoyed at the butler for not listening to you.
“Why did I have to find out from Alfred at all?” he says, his voice laced with anger. Though your room is dark, you can still see his eyes staring at you. “I mean why—why didn’t you tell me?”
“First of all, close the window, I don’t want the whole block to hear our conversation,” you say. He rolls his eyes but moves to shut the window. He also closes the curtains for good measure. You wonder what any bystander watching would think of Batman crawling into someone’s apartment and closing the curtains. You ignore the blush on your face as you start to prepare yourself for a conversation you thought would never come. “Secondly, I tried to tell you, remember? When I came by earlier?”
You watch him clench his jaw as he realizes. “I was busy.” You can’t stop the scoff that leaves your mouth. “Besides, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
You try to restrain yourself from snapping at him. But your anger’s starting to slip out after being pent up inside for so long. “When would that have been Bruce? You have been ignoring me for weeks now.” You see him tense up. “In fact, this is the longest conversation we’ve had in a month.”
Behind his mask, you imagine his face muscles clenching up like they do when he gets frustrated. You think you see his eyes look down, almost ashamed. “I’m sorry about that.”
You snort out a laugh that has his gaze quickly back on you. “Yeah right.”
“I—”
“And can you please take off that mask? I want to talk to Bruce Wayne, not Batman.” You want to properly look at the man you love, probably for the last time in a long while. You know Bruce doesn’t like to take off the cowl while he’s out, frankly you wonder why he takes it off at all. But he relents and lifts the mask off his face. His black makeup is smudged across his face and his hair is a mess but it’s your Bruce. “Thank you.”
“Why are you leaving?” he asks, and you notice a pain in his eyes that makes you sick with guilt. But you’ve been hurt for a while now, and that didn’t stop him.
“I got a job offer in Metropolis.” He scoffs. You know he hates that place. He thinks it’s too squeaky clean and pretentious. You just think it’s because he’s never been anywhere but Gotham and his attachment to this damn city clouds his judgment. “It’s at a newspaper company and the pay is really good.”
“What happened to your old job?”
Your jaws clench. “I lost it a couple of weeks ago. Cutbacks.” Which he would’ve known had he not been avoiding you.
“But I’m sure there’s another—”
“There isn’t,” you say. He looks at you and you sigh. “I’m going to be kicked out of the apartment by the end of the week. I…I haven’t been able to pay rent.”
“Well if that’s the problem, then I can just give you the money—”
“No Bruce.” You let your head drop into your hands and take a breath. “That isn’t a long-term solution and besides, I told you that I would never take money from you.” He’s dealt with a lot of people trying to get to him for his money and you made it clear early on that you weren’t going to be one of those people.
“But I’m giving it to you,” he says, sounding frustrated but also a little desperate. You just close your eyes.
“The answer is no.”
He stands still and looks at you, his eyes piercing, as he tries to come up with a solution. But you’ve already made your peace with this decision. This causes him more frustration. He growls. “There has to be another way. I mean, you can’t just leave.”
“Why not Bruce?” Your eyes start to fill with tears the longer this went on. Why did he have to make this so hard for you?
He seems caught off-guard by this question. “Because…you just can’t.” Your hopes die out and defeat settles in.
“The way I see it…there’s nothing left for me here,” you say as a tear falls down your cheek. His eyebrows furrow, not understanding why you’re thinking like this. “I’ve had to scrounge for money since I was born into this city until I finally earned enough to afford a place and I end up living in this shithole. I’ve never been able to get a job long enough to make any real money, I’ve been just getting by my whole life. And this job offers a chance to break free from all of that. Why shouldn’t I take it?”
He stares at you and it seems like he isn’t breathing. “But what about…I mean, what about…me? Am I not something?” he asks and the vulnerability tugs at your heartstrings. To have a moment like this with Bruce makes you falter in your decision, but you realize this won’t last.
“Bruce…you’re my best friend,” you say and he flinches. He shakes his head, as if he already knows what you’re going to say. “But it looks like our lives are going in different directions now—”
“I’m sorry that I ignored you, I am—” You make a bold move and put your finger against his lips. It causes your heart to race but you needed him to listen. You try not to focus on how soft his lips feel.
“Just listen to me,” you say. Bruce still looks surprised and panicked by your move, so you pull your hand away. For a moment, it looks like his face tries to chase it but you ignore that hopeless thought. “Obviously you’ve been busy lately dedicating your time to the Batman, and that’s awesome because you’re helping the city. But, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for me. For us.” He’s shaking his head but you have to keep going. “I just think we’re at a stage in life where we go our separate ways. That doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends—”
“No,” he says, his breathing seeming to quicken. It doesn’t seem like he has anything else to say. You can see him freaking out but you have to get through this. No matter how much it hurts.
Tears prick at your eyes and your voice cracks, “I’ll miss you—”
“Stop! This…this isn’t happening. You’re not leaving. You can’t leave,” his voice cracks as well. He’s staring right at you and you almost want to relent. You almost want to stay. “You can’t.”
You close your eyes and turn around so that you’re not facing him. You can’t watch the man you love fall apart because of you. You squeeze your fists in frustration. “God, Bruce, why are you making this so hard?” Your voice is raised as your emotions build up inside of you.
“Because you’re not leaving.”
“Why?” You turn around with tears clouding your vision. Your chin wobbles as your eyes move back and forth across his face. “Give me one good reason why I should stay.”
There’s a suffocating silence that fills the room. You close your eyes and let the tears fall. There’s your answer, you suppose. You turn to your suitcase and resume packing your clothes when you hear, “Me.”
You freeze with a shirt clutched in your hands. You drop it and slowly turn around. “What?” you ask, wanting to know if you heard right.
“Stay here for me,” he says and you’re so shocked by him opening up that you don’t know what to say. He takes a step towards you. “I don’t want you to leave.” He keeps walking until he’s standing right in front of you. You feel his hand hesitantly reach for yours and you let him hold it. He squeezes your hand and gives you a look of utter desperation. “Please stay.”
You try to ignore the tears you see forming in his dark eyes. “I don’t…I don’t want to get left behind again.”
“And you won’t.” His other gloved hand comes up to cup your face. You lean into it. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I just got so wrapped up in it all and…I’m sorry.” You nod but there’s nothing left for you to say. You wait as he continues. “Y/N I…” You watch him struggle to form the words but when he does, his eyes shine. “I love you.”
You lose your breath. Your eyes are blown open. “W-what?” you ask. But before you get your hopes up, you have to ask, “As a friend, right?”
“No.” He looks down and swallows deeply before looking back at you. “As more than that.” Your ears are suddenly ringing with the sounds of your beating heart. “I know I haven’t been the best at showing you lately, but I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids but I could never find the courage to tell you before now.” You wait with baited breath as you watch your dreams come true before you. “So please, stay here with me. Give me another chance, I promise I’ll do better. I don’t want to lose you, I can’t.”
A tear falls rolls down his face past the smudged makeup. Without another thought, you reach up and pull his face down to yours and smash your lips together. He takes a moment to respond before leaning into the kiss. He holds the back of your head with his hand while the other wraps around your waist. His lips are as soft as they felt.
Eventually the two of you pull apart for air. You try to catch your breath while you’re both smiling. “I love you too,” you tell him and his grin widens causing you to giggle out of pure joy.
“Does this mean that you’ll stay?” he asks, hope shining in his eyes.
You lick your lips and break your stare to look around your apartment. “Well, I’m still broke, out of a job and about to be homeless but—”
“Stay with me,” Bruce cuts in.
You huff out a laugh at his boldness. “What?”
“Stay with me. There’s plenty of space for you and you won’t have to worry about living in poor conditions or dealing with your asshole landlord.” You laugh. Bruce looks seriously into your eyes. “Come stay with me.”
“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly. You only just said you loved one another, it’s a big jump to live together.
“Of course I’m sure.” You can’t stop looking at how truly happy he is. You haven’t seen him smiling this much since…well ever. And it would be nice to be able to see him every day no matter how busy he gets.
“Okay,” you say with a sheepish smile. “I still need a job.”
“I’ll help you look for one,” he says right away. “So…does this mean you’re staying?”
“Yeah,” you say with a smile. Suddenly you’re swept off your feet as Bruce hugs you and twirls you around. You’re both laughing and the happiness you feel now makes the last of your anger slip away.
