Summary:One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.
WARNING: Ehhhh rain? Hot pizza? Summary: So Clark and reader spend time together. Will something happen? Will Clark finally confess? Stay tune and find out! Notes: Chapter update? Whaaaaaat. is this real? Have I finally got my depressed ass to write a semi decent chapter?
LA Devotee - P!atd<– montage music cx I recommend listening while reading the beginning
clarkkentxreader
He smiles at you and answers, “Sure. What do you want to do?”
You thought for a moment, where can we go? “Um, anywhere? I guess. It doesn’t matter to me I just don’t want to be home.”
He nods in understanding and turns to grab his bicycle. “Well hop on.” He then straddles his seat. You look at him, dumbfounded. “Wait, what?” You were caught off guard of by that.
He gestures to the handles of his bike with a nod. “Get on. I promise you won’t fall.”
You stood there with a raised brow while eyeing the bike in uncertainy, not sure if he was serious. “Are you for real? Is that legal?” You ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know but I’m willing to find out.”
Unsure but excited you take a look around at the people before walking over to Clark’s bike and climbing onto the handles. He holds out his hand and you take it for support. “There you go.” He says; “Put your feet on the pegs.”
You do as he says then he grabs hold of your waist and leans you back against his chest. You were flushed against him, feeling his warm breath down your neck. “I got you.” He speaks lowly. His mouth just mere centimeters from your ear. By now your cheeks were definitely a different shade and you were hoping he can’t see from where he’s at.
“Alright here we go. Hold on.” He stands on the pedals as he pushes, making sure you were leaning back on him. Feeling his warmth made your heart flutter, this was fun. You were smiling and so was he as you passed people and the wind started to pick up.
“Whoa! Clark! Hey!” You shouted, whole body tensed and trying to stay balanced. “I got you Y/n,” he says cooly with a smile, leaning forward more so you can use his shoulder to lean back on
You couldn’t believe what you were doing; here you were on the handle bars of Clark’s bike while he sped through downtown Metropolis during rush hour and both of you didn’t seem to care. Though people of all kinds, from having baby strollers to other cyclists, jump out of the way before you two could plummet into them.
“We’re gonna crash into something,” you yelled but it started to turn into a giggle as you were enjoying yourself not feeling any danger at all, it’s like Clark himself was your safe point.
“I promise you we won’t,” he laughs back, enjoying seeing you smile and laugh. Just as he said that he didn’t notice that the street you two were headed towards had turned green and cars began to move through. His eyes and yours went wide when you both were about to cross over the edge of the sidewalk until Clark braked hard sending you flying towards oncoming traffic. You panicked and closed your eyes, throwing your hands forward to break what ever will hit you but nothing did. Slowly your eyes open and you were still safely on the sidewalk, then you felt a warm arm wrapped around your middle. Your head turns to see Clark holding you against him and his bike thrown back a few feet from you two.
“I got you,” he whispers still holding you to him.
“How did you do that?” You ask, trying to figure out how he had time to jump off the bike, throw it to the side and manage to catch you even though you were sent flying.
“Adrenaline, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders, shaking off how fast he was to save you. “Are you okay?” He asks
You nod, still feeling shaken about the situation. “I’m good.” Your voice squeaked a little at the end. His eyes scan your face, making sure you were actually okay then he gave a guilty look. “Okay. I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention. It won’t happen again, ever.”
Tucking your bangs behind your ear, you shake your head. “Don’t sweat. We’re both okay, that’s all that matters.” You smile at him so he knew that you meant it and once he did, both of you continued on foot to a unknown destination.
You two were taking a stroll through the quiet side of the city, away from busy streets and crowded sidewalks. It was peaceful, the sun just started to set, leaving a warm glow of yellow and pink. The air was cool and the crickets began to chirp.
“So how’s life been? I haven’t seen you for awhile.” You point out to Clark. A small grin appears on his lips as he looks down at you; “It’s been good. Just busy with work. You?”
You shrug. “Same as always only now I have to start applying for jobs in the city and get started on my life.”
He agrees with a nod of his head. “Are you excited for graduation?”
“Yes!” You answer immediately with a enthusiastic tone. Your child like behavior of excitement made him giggle.
“Are you going?” You ask turning and walking backwards behind him.
“Of course,” he says. “Why would I miss something so important to you.”
His answer made you smile. “Thanks Clark. And Lois is going of course?”
“Uh,” he begins. You pause in your tracks at his answer.
“’Uh’ what?”
His mouth tightened into a thin line then curved, followed by his eyes making a ‘not so sure’ look. “She might be out of town around that time.”
You took in a deep breath, not liking that. “You’ve got to be kidding me?” you said in a exasperated tone, slouching your body. “She promised me!”
“Hey but I’ll be there. That’s something.” He shrugs, not sure what to say.
He was right. He’s your best friend and your go to person when you need to talk to someone and never has he rejected you so this was something.
“You’re right. As long as you’re there I’ll be okay.”
At your words he gives a warming smile, then out of nowhere a loud grumble emerged from your body. Clark raises his brows then laughs, “Okay so now that we got that out of the way let’s get you something to eat.”
Red cheeks, you agreed with a quick nod as you walked side by side with him with your hands over your stomach.
Luckily for the two if you, there was a pizzeria near by just around the corner, it was small but had a home feeling to it. It stood out like a sore thumb; the lights buzzed and flickered and only a few people were working including the manager; he was a nice man, he complimented how good you two looked together as a couple. ‘I can see the romance burning between you two!’ He said in his native tongue, his son had to apologize with an embarrassed look when you clarified to them that you and Clark were just friends.
After they left to the back to take care of your order you and Clark took a seat at the only table there with two chairs that sat at the corner. It was small but then again this was a ‘go to and leave’ kind of shop; you get your food and walk off.
Poor Clark, he was a big guy so it was amusing seeing him keep shifting to get a comfortable position. “Do you want to trade spots? I can fit in that corner.”
“No. No. No” he kept saying. “I’m okay.”
After another two minutes of seeing him keep changing positions you sighed with a shake of your head. “That’s it, we’re trading. Get up Kent.”
He slouches his body onto the seat, feeling defeated and got up so you can sit down. “Better?” You ask seeing him not move so much in his seat.
With red cheeks he nods, “Yeah. Thanks Y/n.” He says sheepishly.
“What would you do without me Clark?” You said leaning back into your seat and crossing your arms, smiling at him.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” He answers leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table.
“Me neither…” you say quietly to yourself, wondering if you’ll be able to ever get over him.
Silence settled between you two, both thinking of the same thing without the other one knowing it. Until the son approached your table with a large pizza cluttered with olives, mushrooms, spinach and pepperonis. He then settled two plates and said he’ll be back with your drinks.
The smell hit your nostrils and you hummed, eager to dig into the Italian delicousy. “Whoa there tiger,” Clark cooed, seeing your hunger rising as he set your plate and his.
You didn’t listen and grabbed a slice from the tray, strings of melting cheese trailed over the table, light coat of grease over the pie. It looked beautiful to you.
The first bite was hot and full of flavor, you didn’t care that it was burning your mouth, you were just really hungry. Clark also was stuffing his face and taking in the deliciousness.
After a few slices you two sat back with fully bellies. “That was needed.” You huffed out. Clark hummed in agreement then he suddenly burped loudly, you two were quiet then you smiled at him but then you burped loudly too.
Quickly you covered your mouth and looked at Clark in embarrassment, a smile slowly crept on his lips and he started laughing, you shortly joined in. Tears streaming from your eyes and stomach starting to feel sore from so much laughing.
After a few more moments of laughter it quieted down and left you two to silently stare at each other. Clark watched you with admiration in his eyes, you were the perfect girl to him and though there was flaws, that is what made you perfect.
He opened his mouth to say something, “Y/n?”
Your eyes looked to him and he couldn’t help that gaze you would give him every time he called for you. “Yeah?” You asked with a tinge of a smile on your lips and a little of curiosity in your voice.
He took in a deep breath, careful of his next words. “I have to tell you something..” his voice trailed off. Your heart sped up a bit, what did he want? Is it about the other night?
“Listen Clark if you’re still on about what happen at the park–it’s okay. I understand. You don’t need to keep feeling guilty about it.” You reached for his hand and rubbed his knuckles gently with a soft smile.
He returned one back but he shook his head, “No there’s more to that. I don’t know how to tell you this–”
“–Then don’t. Wait until you’re absolutely ready but for now can we just enjoy this night?” You look to your side at the quiet night. He stared at you and nodded, “Of course Y/n. I’m sorry.” “You can apologize by walking with me.” You stood and held your hand to him.
He took it and stood walking with you to his bike, he grabbed it and you wrapped an arm around his to lean against him as you two walked together. “It’s nice right now.” You said leaning your head on his arm.
He nods in agreement looking up at the white sparkles in the black sky, “It sure is.”
A tear drop of water landed on his cheek making him wipe it off. “Looks like it’s going to rain.” He pointed out right before more drops of water started to come down.
“Damn, my camera.” You sigh as you rushed for cover under an awning.
The calm rainstorm cornered you two, unable to get anywhere without risking getting soaked.
You opened your camera bag to make sure none of your equipment was damaged. “Is everything okay?” Clark asked over the storm. You give him a thumbs up as you continued to fiddle through the lenses and cables. “So far looks like everything is okay.” You answer.
“That’s good. I’m glad. Sorry about the storm.” He gestures his his chin.
“You kidding?” You scoffed at him as you zipped up your bag and put it down where it was safe. He looked at you.
“Rain storms are the best!” You shout and darted out to the empty streets. Spinning around the puddles with your arms above your head.
Clark smiles softly.
“C’mon Clark! Not afraid of a little water are you?” The teasing in your tone caused him to raise a brow at you.
“It that a dare, (Y/n)?” Your name resonates from his cool deep voice.
You lick your bottom lip and giggle a bit, knowing full well what you just started.
With narrowed, predator like eyes not leaving you he pushes himself off the wall and lifts the strap of his bag from across his chest and settles it down next to your camera bag. He then proceeds to start walking from the warmth of under the awning and towards you.
Your feet start to slowly back yourself away, ready to run the other way from him. His long legs carried him with only a few lengthy strides and he as only a few feet from you.
You zipped off, both of you running around trash cans and trees on the sidewalk, you used every possible obstacle you can to slow him down but somehow he was more cunning and quick.
You smiled and laughed, able to just slip his grasp, feeling his finger tips just grazing your arms and slightest tugs of your shirt.
When you looked back you didn’t see him until you ran right into him, there he wrapped his arms firmly around you and he spun you around.
You yelped at the surprise, placing your hands on his shoulders.
Slowly he stopped and you two settled against each other, both breathing hard from running around and then you started to shiver. “You’re cold,” he said with concern, feeling his arms tighten a bit to bring you closer. “I-I’m fine.” You smiled up at him.
The street light from above highlighted the droplets on your plump lips. His eyes cast down at them and you noticed, one of his hands found they’re way to the back of your head and held you in place as he slowly closed his eyes and brought his face closer to yours and paused.
“Clark….” you said in a sweet whisper, urging him to go further with his actions, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt.
He grinned in response, pleased with your reaction and grazed your lips with his. Just that teeniest, tiniest touch set your skin ablaze, your heart was in your throat and you couldn’t breath but none of that mattered, what matters is this moment.
One of your hands cupped his cheek, as he continued the tease, he wanted to remember this as you.
His lips were soft just like you imagined, his taste was sweet and even in the cold rain you felt the heat from his body and his mouth was an even higher temperature.
His tongue grazed your bottom lip, begging for entry and you obliged. He indulged in your soft touch, holding you closer to him, afraid that something might pull you away.
The kiss was hot and wet, exactly how you pictured it would be.
You two pulled away, faces inches from each other. A wide smile appeared on both your faces. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. I’m in love with you (Y/n).” Clark said with a hoarse voice. There. He said it. He finally fucking said it.
You let out a shaky laugh, keeping your eyes closed. “Fuck. I’ve always wanted to say that to you. Guess you beat me?”
His then opens his eyes in shock. “Really?” A hopeful tone.
You nodded then a phone rang.
You both look to your bags.
“Sounds like yours.” You said.
“I’ll check it later. Probably Louis.” He shrugged off looking back at you.
Then realization dawned on you. Quickly you pushed yourself away from him and covered your mouth with your hands.
“What?” Clark asks puzzled. “What is it? What’s wrong”
“This is wrong. Oh this is wrong on so many levels! What am I doing?!” You shout walking to your bags.
“I’m so sorry Clark! I shouldn’t have done that!” You then proceed to take out your phone and message Bruce to pick you up, he replies quickly that he’s around the area. You turn on your phone gps signal for him to find you.
“What? What are you talking about?” He asks quickly as he grabs his bag and bike.
“This was so wrong. I knew it! You’re so stupid (Y/n)!” You shake your head as you continue to walk away from him.
“(Y/n)! Please! Talk to me! Please!” He begs as his softly grabs your arm. He turns you around but you kept your head down. “No this is wrong.”
He cupped your cheeks to face you to him and he saw the tear trails. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry if I did.” He was worried and confused, what happen to the happy moment?
You cried more and just shook your head. “I’m horrible. Louis is a good friend how can I do this to her!”
He furrowed his brows for a moment to think and then put the pieces together. She thinks he’s with Louis.
“I’m sorry! I overheard you guys a couple weeks ago in the copying room and you confessed your feelings to her and I just come in wrecking it all! I’m so sorry!” You slipped from hi grasp, just in time for Bruce to pull up around the corner.
Holding your bags close to you you kept our head dipped as you ran to the passenger side and got into the car.
Clark watched like a fool, letting you slip again. He confessed but he didn’t think to clarify with (Y/n) about Louis.
Now she knows so what will happen?
He put his head down, the rain now slowing down to a mild sprinkle.He stood in the empty street, jaw clenched. A smile crept to his lips as he also remembered that you too confessed to him.
“I might have a chance with her.” He said to himself.
Alfred watched quietly as Master Bruce puttered around the kitchen, fingers tapping and touching nearly everything without settling. They both knew he was just stalling time until he had no choice but to face the music upstairs. He ran his fingers across the toaster one last time before sighing, turning around to face his friend.
“I suppose I should go tell her I’m back.” He leaned against the spotless marble counter-top and drummed his fingers mindlessly against it. Alfred merely fixed him with a knowing look and nodded slightly. Bruce gave one final tap to the edge and bid him good night.
He opened the bedroom door almost silently, only to be greeted by a scowl as you switched on the light. You were curled up in his desk chair on the farthest side of the room. He knew you’d been up for a while thanks to the nearly empty mug of tea in your hands. The two of you studied one another for a brief moment- him taking note of the way your hair curled around your face and how well you filled out his shirt that you had stolen for bed, you feeling bad over his exhausted expression yet getting angrier as you realized he also looked just as guilty as you knew he had to be.
“It’s midnight.” You were the first to break the silence. “Where the hell were you?”
Bruce sighed and ruffled his hair, turning from you and beginning to undress for bed.
“I had business to attend to, you kn-”
“Business? At this hour?” You nearly laughed at the pathetic excuse. “Do you think I’m that stupid?”
He turned around and fixed you with a patronizing look that made you feel like a kid again.“Of course I don’t think you’re stupid. It’s just- It’s complicated, okay?”
“Everything with you is complicated, Bruce. Women who date you should be offered a manual upon first contact.” You quickly swallowed the remaining dregs of your cold tea before setting it down and moving to your boyfriend.
Bruce relaxed the moment your hands met his back, sliding around from behind to help unbutton his shirt and pull it away from his shoulders. You went to push up his undershirt as well but he gripped your hands and gently pulled them away. If you saw the bruises spreading across his ribs, courtesy of Penguin, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge your questions.
You stood there for a moment, staring at his back in confusion as he gripped your wrists tight enough to keep you still. The anger that had ebbed away when you touched him came rushing back full force, accompanied by hot angry tears that refused to fall.
He was surprised but complied when you yanked yourself away from him and walked over to your side of the bed. You yanked off his shirt so you could put on your own clothes- the shimmery dress that had gotten you many compliments just hours ago at the gala.
“Babe, what are you-”
“No.” That’s all you said as you clipped your bra into place and began shimmying into the tight little number. He was quiet for a moment, so you continued. “No. You need to tell me right now what’s going on. I don’t think you’re a cheater, Bruce, even though that’s exactly what this looks like. But you’re lying to me about something. I don’t want to spend my whole life in the dark, so you need to clear it up rightnow.”
He made a move to help you zip up out of habit, but you gracefully dodged him and squirmed around until you managed to get it yourself. You stood there, shoes in hand, waiting for him to say anything.
For just a moment, Bruce actually considered telling you. You’d stuck around longer than anyone else. You’d seen and heard plenty of weird, living in Gotham your whole life. The trust he had in you was unshakable, and that was amazing on its own. What’s the worst that could happen?
But then he pictured you battered and broken, surrounded by the Penguin’s henchmen. He watched the Riddler dangle you over a vat of acid as he threw random bat trivia at him. The worst was when he watched the Joker bring his crowbar down on you over and over again, blood flying into the air as you tried to scream in pain but all you could do was laugh hysterically thanks to the gas.
“Bruce…” Your voice brought him out of his reverie, your lovely, musical voice. You stared at him, willing your tears to stay back a little bit longer. “I can’t do this anymore with you, do you understand?”
After a moment of silence, all he could say was, “I’m sorry.”
You couldn’t help but stare at him with wide eyes. Unbelievable. He couldn’t be honest with you, after all this time. Closing your mouth and squaring your shoulders, you slipped your heels onto your feet and strode past him to the door. You picked your purse and coat up off the floor, but not before sparing him one last glance. He looked much older and frail in that moment, and you actually felt a great swell of pity for him.
“Good bye, Mr. Wayne. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.” With that you walked away from him.
Okay y’all, please stop asking about HHTC. I truly love that so many of you have taken an interest, but having around thirteen anons asking about an update when I’ve already answered two is a bit…disheartening? Knowing that it’ll be awhile before chapter three comes out, and the amount of pressure these asks dump on me is distressing.
If you like what I write, perhaps work on commenting my works, or reblogging them? That is far more encouraging and considerate than hounding me for updates.
I already have so much on my plate, and only ask that this bombarding lightens up. Please and thank you!
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.
Day Seventeen of my milestone challenge: Song Fic (Kiss Me Quick by Nathan Sykes)
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader
Requested: No
Word Count: 977
Warnings: Fluff
Description: Bruce is hit by the thunderbolt almost immediately after seeing you for the first time, and he just can’t keep his hands off of you.
Baby, I’ve been searching
Searching through these crowds
To maybe find someone who knows what I’m about
All these excuses
Too young to settle down
So it’s crazy what you got me doing now
Hold up baby
You know you drive me crazy
And I want everybody to know
Bruce could honestly say that he had been hit by the thunderbolt when he met you. He had been trying to avoid work and had gone down to the café and saw you sitting at one of the tables just watching life pass you by. He had been so engrossed in studying you that he barely heard the barista call his name with his order.
