Bruce Wayne X Fem!reader - Tumblr Posts

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Saving the Day (Scarlet Witch Batmom)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader (batmom)

Summary: Based off of this Freeze in Wayne Manor gif. Batmom comes home early from work to deal with the intruder.

Warnings: Break ins, Little Timmy is afraid for a bit

You were at work when suddenly red lights came from your phone. It didn’t take but a split second to know that this was an emergency alert from Alfred. Someone was in the manor and Bruce was probably incapacitated for the time being. Quickly, you left the building, telling your secretary that Tim had gotten sick and Alfred needed some assistance.

“Take care Mrs. Wayne.” He said kindly.

“You too Ethan!” You smiled, waving as you got into the elevator.

There you sent the message that Alfred needed, “Stay out of sight- on my way.”

The thought of someone breaking into Wayne Manor would send shivers down your spine and cause your blood to run cold. Tim was there and only a year had passed since he lost his parents. Bruce was not able to defend the house like usual, and the security defenses had been breached. This would mean that whomever was there was no regular robber or petty criminal. You sped off, out of the parking garage and waved goodbye to the security guard that was always stationed there. There was nothing in your attitude that would indicate that something was wrong other than the fact that you were leaving work early.

When you pulled up at the gates of the Manor, nothing looked immediately amiss until you noticed that the lock over the gate was smashed. You saw water around it, signaling that it must have been frozen and shattered with a heavy object. The material in question was not able to be found but that didn’t deter you from continuing. You left your car a bit away from the house as not to alert anyone of a car pulling up.

On your phone you noticed that the cameras surrounding the house were down. Nothing could be seen, but the voice on the other end was perfectly recognizable to you. Freeze had infiltrated the manor and he had backed your guys into the corner. Alfred must have been hiding in the emergency room while Bruce and Tim tried to take care of the problem. The problem that must have arisen was that they couldn’t blow their cover.

You crept into the manor through a secret entrance as to make sure that Freeze didn’t know that you were there. Hearing voices, you led yourself through the hallways and into the main living room where the fireplace was. Coming up to the wooden door that led into the room, you heard the voice of the villain.

“You were just a boy when you lost your family.” You hear the man say, “But you keep trying to create a surrogate family for yourself. To destroy you, I need only to destroy that. Perhaps your beloved surrogate son…”

That was enough for you. Rage boiled inside of you as you listened, slowly turning the knob. No one came into your home and threatened your husband and son. That was a death wish and the only thing that kept you from sending Freeze into an early grave was Bruce.

“Honey I’m home!” you say swinging the door wide open, red streaming from your finger tips.

“Mom!” you hear Tim call out in desperation.

You look over at Bruce who is in the process of pulling Tim behind him.

“Well this is a surprise.” Freeze says as he points the gun still at Bruce and Tim who is hiding behind him, “Who knew that the beloved wife of Bruce Wayne was hiding a secret. Everyone will soon know this once I’ve finished the men off.”

“please.” You say, “The only one that will ever know about this is three of us in this room. I get to do whatever I want to you.”

Freeze pauses and looks at your more intently.

“I’ll get to savor and remember every moment of this, you’ll live the rest of your life wondering why you have a permanent limp.”

The red light that flickers around your fingers glows brighter and brighter and suddenly Freeze drops to his knees. Dropping his gun, the only thing that he sees is black. You don’t hear Bruce telling you to be careful, and you don’t see Tim looking at you in awe and wonder. Instead, you’ve infiltrated the mind of Freeze. His worst fear, losing his wife, was something that you would easily manipulate. You’d always feel bad for the woman, but now you’d just be using her to your advantage.

“You were just a boy when you lost those that you loved.” You say, suddenly circling around him. You had his mind under your control and anything that you wanted him to see, he was watching it like a movie, “All this time, you’ve tried to save the surrogate family that you’ve desperately wanted to create.”

Your form whips around him while pictures of his wife in her frozen cage, “And all this time, the only thing that you’ve been successful at doing is loosing it, over, and over, and over again. Why do you even try?”

Freeze is screaming as you say these things and suddenly it becomes louder when you force him into the icy casket that he keeps his wife in. He’s clawing at this neck not being able to breathe and calling out for help. You wouldn’t say that you were perfectly enjoying everything, but you did like the sense of power that it was giving you over him.

“You feel it don’t you? The helplessness that overwhelms your senses? I’ll remember this day, I’ll remember you crying and begging for mercy, you’ll save the night terrors from this evening but will never remember where they came from.” You smile, standing next to him, “Next time you think about coming here, I’ll make sure that you never leave.”

Suddenly, you’re back in the living room, Bruce is comforting Tim, and Freeze disappears. You’ve sent him back to his fortress. He’ll wake up in a few hours with a horrible headache and a fear that sticks with him for the next few weeks. He won’t know why, but the three of you will.

“Mom!” You hear Tim call out before running into your arms.

Quickly, you drop to your knees and take him in your arms. Bruce comes over and does the same, wrapping the two of you in his embrace.

“Alfred is safe, I’ll alert him that everything is alright now.” Bruce says kissing the crown of your head.

“Are you alright? Hurt at all?” You asked him quietly.

“Fine.”

Tim is still clinging onto you, clearly terrified.

Night time came, and when you and Bruce had finally gotten in bed after patrol, you heard tiny footsteps coming up to the bedroom door. You look at Bruce raising a brow.

“Alfred said that he was in bed two hours ago.” You say in a low voice.

A small knock comes from the door and you get up to open it, motioning for Bruce to go ahead and go to bed.

“Timmy- is everything alright?” You ask, getting to your knees to be at his level.

“I can’t sleep.” He says, “Are you sure that everything is alright?”

“I’m sure Tim.” You reply reassuringly, “Is there anything that we can do for you?”

“Can I sleep with you and Bruce?”

“Of course sweetheart.” You answer, picking him up in your arms and taking him to lay between you and Bruce.

Tim got comfortable quickly and snuggled between the two of you. You looked up seeing Bruce smile adoringly at the two of you. The boy had quickly fallen asleep once he had settled down. Bruce embraced his small family and sighed.

“He’ll probably be sleeping with us for the next week or so.” He says.

“That’s alright. I’m just glad that everything’s alright now.”

Bruce nodded in agreement and the two of you quickly fell asleep. Just as your husband had predicted, Tim came in every night for the next few nights to sleep and eventually, just like clockwork, he was back in his own room and on patrol with the two of you once more.

SUPERHERO MASTERLIST

a/n: our fav superheroes & supes <3 (i cry at the lack of smallville!clark kent content floating around so why not make my own?) if written for a different version of a character it will be specified. (eg - henry cavill superman = hc) ps i love jensen ackles

CLARK KENT

— real love baby!

summary: to make your ex jealous, your best friend suggests the two of you work together. but it’s not like you knew, he was never planning on letting you go.

SOLDIER BOY (BEN)

— coming soon

JASON TEAGUE

— coming soon

BRUCE WAYNE

— coming soon

DICK GRAYSON

— coming soon

JASON TODD

— coming soon

love me by the light.

part one | masterlist

premise: bruce comes back into your life, pulling back the veil of those darkened parts of him; finally letting you in.

pairing: bruce wayne x (f)reader

word count: 12.6k

warnings: smut (unprotected sex, rough sex, f receiving oral, pain kink, scratching), a lot of time skips/jumps, death of a parent(s), declarations of love-ish, jealousy, slight batman spoilers, toxic relationships, angst, blood and violence mentions. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

etc: did i mean for this to be that long? absolutely not, but it got away from me lmao. i hope the wait was worth the pay out, especially since it took me weeks to write this. writing soft bruce is hard for me so this is the closest we gone get!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It had been weeks since Bruce, or his alter ego, had darkened your doorway or saturated your bed sheets. Weeks of you trying not to wonder where he was, weeks of you trying to convince yourself that it was for the best, that those words spoken, those breaths shared and moans mixed, wounds reopened and pain shared; was a goodbye. It was the last time either of you were going to wallow in that shared unspoken pain—on Bruce's part—and try to come up with every excuse, every touch, every argument to not just let it go, to not face facts that the two of you were no good together, Bruce was no good for you.

Not your psyche, or the money you were spending on laundry; but most importantly your heart; that annoying little organ keeping you alive, keeping the blood pumping in your veins, those same tendons that Bruce has run his lips across. That same blood that doesn't mind being mixed into something shared and deranged with his, or those he’s beat down.

But no matter what reasoning, no matter what sound logic and sound mind of factual grounds as to why Bruce was no good for you, the two of you even worse together; your heart couldn’t seem to get the memo. Could not grasp on to the shed tears and broken shards of its melted shards back together over and over, that all of that meant that the two of you should stay away from each other.

And just like your heart was doing with all rationality; you ignored it. You were pushing the memories of Bruce in your bed, between your legs, and pressed to your body away with anything that worked. Once one good memory popped up you reminded yourself of another, a nasty argument, or by the fact that Bruce essentially knew nothing about you and you him. In which your heart would excuse that the both of you knew enough; tragic pasts, a weird addiction to pain (yours more emotional than his), parentless, searching for the wrong things in ways that would never fully be right, never fully making you feel absolutely whole because you’ve been stuck in the same mindset for far too long that in reality you didn't really remember what you were searching for, only that you kept looking even when you were blinded by something toxic and unsustainable than the reason why you started said thing from the beginning.

Your heart had painted a picture of ‘he knew how to kiss you in that way that it took your breath away, he knew that you despise your job, he knew that you didn’t want children, he knew that you spent extra time in the shower even when your day wasn’t entirely bad (the hot water relaxing you more than any other remedy could). He knew you picked out all of the healthy ingredients in your food when you ordered take out (knows because he busted through your door one night while said take out dish was in your hand being devoured and he insisted you finish eating first, since you were sure to lose your appetite once the two of you got started). He knew how to touch your body in ways that left your body feeling as if it had been in a sauna, knew how to completely mold his mouth against you in a way that felt illegal. His hips and cock knowing just the right way to thrust and move in and out of you, always leaving you breathless and clinging to him. And most of all, the thing you wished he didn't know, that you both could forget: you loved him.

So why should you give that up? Why should the fights outweigh that love? Those facts, those knowings? And the answer was at the tip of your brain painted in bold red letters: because Bruce wouldn’t let you see him. It was the answer to—most—everything, an answer that was more obvious than the sky painted blue. Bruce had let you see the bare minimum of him, had told you the basics that you could read in a damn paper, article, crazed fan post. And when you begged to know more you got silence or dismissal. You got another fight. You got more feelings hurt than hopefulness. You got nothing.

But then you remembered—your heart never letting you forget—you knew he was Batman. And no one knew that. He had taken off his cowl and had let you see his face, bruised, bloody, and painted black. He had trusted you with a needle to his skin. Had trusted you enough to come back again and again. To share a bed with him. To touch. To kiss. To fuck. He let you do that not only to Bruce Wayne, but to The Batman. It wasn't a small gesture. It wasn’t some run of the mill thing. Bruce was not the kind of man to just hand out chances, instances, information like that. He barely left his tower as his true self. In some ways he was more Batman than he was Bruce. As if this altered ego had overtaken him to the point where Bruce Wayne was a secondary character in his own life.

And that counted for something, right? Did that outweigh everything else? Did that paint away the bad and cover it in a different kind of sight, a different kind of love that was more sacred than your average one? Was Bruce showing you his true self, The Batman, the same as him sharing the darkest parts of his mind? His feelings? Was that what—who—Batman was? And if so, was that not a form of love in a way? A form of devotion in the only demeneted tragic way Bruce knew how to give, to show, to devote to you unspokenly.

Each night those very thoughts would cross your mind and you locked your doors tighter. Had closed your curtains. Had avoided any and all headlines with his name plastered on the front. You didn't linger at night, you went to bed timely. You kept busy. Kept locked away. From him and the chance that he might come back—that you wanted him to come back.

Which is also why you started dating. Or trying to at least.

You had been on a handful of casual dates that didn't end in anything other than you grimacing half of the night and them leaving you with the bill. There had been no sparks of romance and no goodnight kisses, or walking you to your door and asking to come in for a night cap. It had been going miserably and yet you had kept trying. Had kept seeking out something through people who were not him. Who could never come close to plaguing your mind as much as he did.

But there was one guy. One who was less of a nuisance than the others, one who actually paid for the meal the four times you had gone out. Had walked you to your doorstep and had hugged you—something that made your skin crawl. He was the only one you had seen on multiple occasions. Had given a chance to, even if it did take some convincing of yourself that he wasn't that bad of a guy. And he really wasn't. He had a decent job, was polite enough, cute enough (not letting yourself linger on the fact that his hair was the same length as Bruce’s and they kind of had the same eye color, and if you squinted the jawline might match up).

He would be a perfect match for you to get over Bruce, you were sure of it, betted on it, were only seeing him for it. But all your convincing and his nice smile did little to stop your mind from wandering to the man you really wished was sat across from you. Who stood at your doorstep. Who wrapped their arms around you; there was no spark, no delicious sting from impending hurt, that pain, that need to yell and scream because you loved this person so much that it was killing you, they were killing you. Tearing your heart into nasty shards and putting them back together with their touch, their kiss.

No, there was none of that and you knew there never would be. And it was truly fucked for both parties involved. But you couldn't find yourself worrying about the others feelings. Maybe you would grow to—would grow to care and something would blossom between the two of you. Something non-tragic wrapped in thorns and bloody knuckles. Something easy, non-toxic.

But was that what you truly wanted?

For all your convincing as to why Bruce was bad and that you were glad he was gone, your body and mind had not stopped calling you a hypocrite.

And when the two of you step out of the small diner, when his clammy palms grab your hand and lace your fingers together—the repulsion in your body starting from low in your belly—and just as he does it, just as his smile spreads and he’s staring at you with fondness; your eyes are pointed to the sky at the symbol plastered in the night fog that to most is a warning, a death sentence. But to you has your heart aching in your chest and wanting to follow it through the streets, buildings, towers, until maybe, hopefully, you find him and it’s his hand that slides home to your body.

As the two of you walk to your apartment, as the other carries the conversation, as your eyes seem to hover and seek out every dark corner, every alley painted black, every booted foot hitting the ground; it’s the thought of him possibly watching you, seeing you with this other man, the thought of jealousy and strain panging his heart, the lack of watch on the nightly creeps that could be terrorizing the city that are less important than you. Than him keeping a watch on you because he misses you. Because the two of you are fucking stubborn and this love is a sespool of depravity and hurt, but also undeniable lust and understanding. That's what has you smiling the whole way home. Not the others’ jokes or uninteresting conversation. It's Bruce.

It’s always Bruce.

It's crazy to think time goes by slower when your heart is aching. Like the world knows that your chest is bruised and tattered from the sting of your heart longing for something, something it can’t have, can’t touch, can’t possess. The world slowing down the hands of time just to prolong suffering. It was hard to say if that was a good or bad thing. If the longer your heart aches the easier it would be to let go of the reason causing the pain; your body rearranging its DNA to make even the slightest thought of the source of the pain kick your flight instinct up. Or did that prolonged ache make you long for that salve that sugar coated the pain, that hid itself away until the toxic cycle continued. You had always looked at addiction and love as two sides of the same coin. Two sides that caused people to either lose themselves or become friends with a tolerable pain if only for a little something in return; devotion, lust, euphoric highs. Both sides providing that painful ache in your chest when you go without it.

You didn't know if it was the latter when it came to your love for Bruce. It had been almost two months now and that ache was still embedded in your bones. Your revelations as to why this distance was good, why moving on to something more stable was better, had soon died off after the man you had been casually seeing tried to warm the same side of the bed Bruce usually did. You knew it the minute his lips pressed to yours—his clammy fingers trailing along your backside—that no matter how nice of a guy he was, or how many dates you tried to make work; he wasn’t Bruce.

And as pathetic as it was to let yourself give up on trying to stop feeling for the no-good-billionaire you decided to let it run its course through you. Like most addicts did. You had to let the memories and traces of him—that seemed to be more than just embedded on your sheets and furniture, the feeling running blood deep—course through you until there was nothing left. No traces of him ever being there; except your taped together heart.

Sometimes you caught yourself wondering if he was doing the same. If the bags under his eyes had turned more sickly black. If he let his punches go just a little bit harder, deadlier, all so he could be distracted enough to not think of you. To let his knuckles crack open from jaw bones and teeth if it meant the course of you running from his body.

It was wishful thinking on your part, pathetic thinking.

Even when seeing Bruce you expect nothing from him because you knew you'd never get anything other than the bare minimum. So making a fairytale out of him now was only fueling your heart with sickness. The only thing you felt most confident about was that you were never going to see Bruce Wayne—or the Batman—again.

You don’t expect, a week later, to feel the other side of your bed dip. Jolsting you in your sleep to awareness, your body frozen as the covers behind you are lifted and moved, pillows being rearranged, and then there's arms being wrapped around you—and you know it’s him. Knew it was him the minute you felt the bed dip. The smell of oil and something musky assaulting your lungs being the giver; Bruce. You anticipate the dreadful feeling of anger and hurt to bubble up inside your chest. To start a fire in your belly and rage all the way through you until your entire body is ablaze from all the screaming and angry tears you want to let out.

But the rage doesn't come. There's no fire in your belly. No deep pain in your gut that's telling you to kick him out, to not rid yourself of the progress you’ve made in getting over him—the progress that was barely there to begin with. The only thing coursing through your body right now is shuddered breaths. Your heart bruising your ribcage from how fast it's beating, and the deep flutter in your belly making you almost shake; angry tears turning into relief that he’s here. That he came back to you, that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stay away, couldn't stop thinking of you.

And when you turn in his arms the blue of his eyes seem to stand out more than ever. The black paint around his lids setting the backdrop to accentuate that staying away was as agonizing for you as it was for him. The street lights peaking through your window illuminating his face in a beautiful glow that makes you feel like a fucking idiot for ever letting him go like that, for starting fights, for caring about anything else other than him being here; looking griefstickenly beautiful. All of your sensibility from the month earlier burned to ash from those addictive feelings of devoted love you have for this man. Much like Bruce has, he’s burnt them down. He’s avenged your heart into something that aches only from—and for—him; good, bad, painfully so. There was no more making sense of it, you didn't need to. He was here, and it didn't matter for what reason or for how long. That pain of those questions and answers could come another day, another night.

It was no longer the ladder for you. You knew that this man was your addiction. The love and pain you had and suffered through just to feel his warmth beside you was worth the toxicity that ran between the two of you like a rotten fruit; still beautiful on the outside but decaying on the inside, tragic, but not a waste. it could still be held and enjoyed on the surface. And that counted for something. For everything.

Neither of you acknowledge the time spent apart, or if he’s only come here because he’s hurt. There's no time for that, no thought, when the hesitation to press your lips together is a losing game. The passion and heat from the kiss so intensely between the two of you that your mind skips all thoughts except him, except pulling him on top of you and bruising the others lips to make up for the time spent away.

It doesn't take much maneuvering before your clothes are off, the press of his naked chest against yours burning right through you. The feel of his hands running along every inch of your body as if to remind himself how you feel, how you moan into his mouth when his thumb rubs along your nipple. Or how you love it when his cock runs through your folds, spreading your wetness, his tip continuously assaulting your clit to the point your legs start shaking. That burn of lust and a need that makes you want to scream; fuck you missed him. Need him.

Bruce’s mouth travels along your neck, your chest, your breasts, leaving dark smudges in his wake; highlighting the deep bite and wet marks from his tongue and teeth. The coolness from where his mouth once was devouring your body in that perfect way he does, making you shiver. Your eyes watching as he makes his descent down your abdomen. And if it wasn't for the desperate pulse and ache you feel between your legs to have his cock inside of you, that painfully beautiful stretch missed more than you’d realized; you would let him continue that descent.

“Bruce,” you're breathless and trying to pull him up by his shoulders, trying to relay the message of what you want by grinding your hips up into him. You didn't care about prep, didn't care about being ready for him. It was the kind of pain you loved from him, not being completely ready for him, for his cock to stretch you. You needed it right now—as if it would make the pain spent away that much more worth it, more addicting.

His lips kiss above your belly button, his eyes looking up into yours and they're just as needy as yours; his dark makeup smeared half away down his cheek making him look even more desperate. “Please,” his voice is just below a whisper, the heat of his breath hitting your skin. “I’ve missed you.” And if you were already breathless, this was the punch to your heart that knocked the rest of the breath out of your lungs. A white heat of something that wasn't lust washing over you, and you know the tears that burn your eyes are not from the frustrations of it either; it's something so sweet, too sweet, that it makes your mind even more hazy. Makes you want to shed those tears, makes you want to switch your positions and show your love for the Prince of Gotham with your mouth and tongue until your throat burns and is filled with cum.

Bruce doesn’t wait for more of a confirmation before he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your mound, his arms positioning themselves behind your thighs so he’s completely bracketed between your legs. His eyes look back up to yours as he runs the flat of his tongue over your wet folds, a small gasp falling from your lips that quickly turns into a hitched moan when the tip of his tongue snakes out from between his lips to swirl around the surface of your clit. His mouth and tongue lick and suck over your folds, inside of you, refusing to touch your clit directly until your whining and gripping his hair, the huff of pain from your fingers making a moan vibrate against you when he finally wrap his lips around the throbbing bundle of nerves. The way you arch your back and shake around him from the pleasure of the warmth of his mouth on your most sensitive part, devouring you, savoring you, making that burning heat tingle through your legs and settle in your lower belly, to the point you want to scream.

You know you've missed his cock more, but the way his mouth feels on your cunt is just as addicting. It was never in question whether or not Bruce was good with his mouth—he was and then some. He’s eating you out like it’s the first time and he’s taking his time to savor every taste, every moan, every movement of your hips when he does that thing with his tongue that always makes you say his name; he has you spewing words and praising him like he’s your God. And if the moans against your swollen cunt tell you anything it’s that he loves it just as much—if not more—as you. As if it’s just another way for him to see your devotion to him, to give yourself over to him, to let him continue to completely consume you. Maybe that's why he keeps coming back, maybe that's really where his love lies; being addicted to the way you love him, the way you let him completely plague your mind, body and soul, with his mouth and his cock.

Whatever it is you know you’ll never give it up again.

Never want to feel anyone other than him between your legs eating your pussy like this, sucking on your folds and clit, two of his fingers fucking into you and hitting that spongy part of your cunt that has you seeing stars and squeezing your thighs around him as that euphoric high crashes through you so roughly. Your entire body shaking as you scream out. As you cum against his tongue and fingers.

And Bruce doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’ve cum again, your hips stuttering and body twitching from the sensitivity of your clit. Your body already feeling limp and fucked out—and yet his tongue keeps going, his fingers still fuck into you, your walls even more sensitve as they spasm around him. “Bruce, I need-”

“Just one more, please.”

There were few opportunities in your line of work that you could deny, whether from uncomfortability, or the payout for the piece. And when it came to good pieces that didn't include The Batman, or some dirty politician getting taken down, there wasn't much that really captured the gossiping eyes of the people in Gotham. Misery and crime really did sell, a picture of someone corrupt dead and plastered across the paper was more likely to sell than the reasons why you shouldn't ingest this or buy that. It wasn't too shocking to you though, having written many pieces that fell flat and barely gave you the money to make rent, you had learned long ago that the more blood that a paper helped continue to spill, shed, martyr, the more money, the more engagement.

And at the end of the day you needed to survive, needed the money to continue to keep a roof over your head no matter how dingy that roof was. And after staring blood in the eyes, cuts, gashes, wounds that never healed right; stains under your nails that seem to never come out no matter how much you scrub, no thanks to Gotham’s headliner. There were little to less stories that made you too uncomfortable to write, to cover, to make money off of someone's death using adverbs to paint them as the sad little victim when really Gotham was a better place without them.

When you delve into the dark parts of your past you think there are the stepping stones to how you got here. To make you conditioned to not bat an eye at looking the evil dead in the eye and writing about them. To hiding Bruce’s secret, stitching him up, to kissing his wounds and the one to reopen them.

Which is why when your boss suggested that you write a piece on Oswald Cobblepot’s infamous club the Iceberg Lounge, you didn't think much of it. No sirens or red flags went off in your mind, not even the worry of being surrounded by dropheads, or the gangster himself. The only thing that had flashed through your mind was the pay out, the check that was surely to be big from such a piece on the man sometimes referred to as The Penguin and his place of lounging.

Your boss guaranteeing you it was a sure thing, that Oswald knew him by name and to simply say it at the door and it would get you in without trife. It was a sure thing and that there was no need to pay any mind to the various rumors of the man being as bad as some people had said. Within that same reassuring breath he had suggested you wear something nicer than your everyday work attire.

“Don't be afraid to show some skin, might make the interview go…better.” He had given you a wink and his smirk went to the pit of your stomach. Your boss wasn’t a creep, shockingly. And so the only thing about the exchange that had set your nervous alight was his suggestion to wear something skimpy, that the sluttier you looked the more The Penguin would possibly be more persuaded to spill all. But men were men were they not? Some better than others, some more simple than the rest that gave their secrets away by a flash of a nice smile or the dip of a woman's cleavage.

And as you stood and stared at yourself through the mirror, your reflection was almost laughable at how hard you were trying; money could truly be a big motivator, and motivated you were. If the sequin dress that barely reached mid thigh, and the large cut out at the chest, didn't say just how much of a motivator it was for you. Maybe it was stupid for you to be dressed as such, it might send the wrong idea, an invitation to some dimwitted men. Having never met the infamous crime boss before you wouldn't exactly say where he fell on the spectrum of man. But rumors flew around Gotham like a plague and talks of girls receiving black eyes and bruises all over their bodies, and the deaths that mysteriously always went cold when someone’s carcass was found on the property did not fall on deaf ears.

You had swallowed down your nerves with a few shots of liquor, had read and reread every question you had written down to ask, had triple checked with your boss that he actually knew you were coming and your boss wasn’t just hoping your promiscuous look would be the only thing that would actually be landing you the interview. You didn't know if you were up for having to work with your vagina rather than your brain tonight.

The only thing your vagina got you into was messes, example; Bruce Wayne.

Someone who you don’t expect to see when you exit your bathroom, or a version of him. His body adorned in his armor. You hadn't expected him tonight, hadn't thought you'd see him for at least a couple days since he had stained your bed dusty black just last night. He usually gave it a few days, usually let the missing and longing sink in before he came back to you.

But since the two of you had made up—or done your version of making up; not talking about the matter anymore than shared I miss you’s mixed with moans, bites, and scratches, the only communicating Bruce knew how to do—he had found his way to your bed more often than not. Had even let himself stay until the early morning just as the sun was peeking over the city. There were still blood stained nails and wounds needing fixing. But mixed with antiseptic had been the looks of longings and forgiveness shared. Your heart still ached more times than not and you knew it couldn't be that far off that a fight was soon to break out again. That he would leave you for a month again, or the two of you would fuck for a week straight, letting everything else say your apologies than actually muttering them yourselves.

Your mind always reminding you that it can't be nice forever. That's not how you and Bruce were. That's not the type of relationship you had; a nice one, a one filled with love affirmations and calming touches and ease. Your love was more demented, it had bite marks, blood, cruel words turned into whimpering pleas of devotion. You two were not meant for some classic romance. And you don’t think your heart could bear it if it were any other way, it growing to used to pain and calling it love. Needing it to survive in an already cruel world.

A world Bruce unintentionally made even crueler.

“I didn't expect you tonight,” you walk to your table, rifling through your essentials for the night. “Are you okay? Unless you’re bleeding out you might have to take a bandaid and call it good.” You joke, turning to flash him a smile but it falls once you see his pensive look. Or as much as you could tell, his mask is really doing its job to hide everything about him from the world.

“Are you going out with that guy, again?” The edge in his voice surprises, makes a half smile creep on your lips you try to cover up; so he was watching you, had seen the many dates you went on to try and wash him from your system. The knowledge makes something in your stomach flutter, that edge in his voice the only thing that you are sure he would show of jealousy, or worry.

Or so you thought, until your next sentence of “no, actually I have an interview with Oswald Coppletop,” you smirk. “The Penguin, someone I’m sure The Batman knows well.” Your tone is teasing and it lands flat when the furnace of rage seems to start in the tick of his jaw and spread throughout the rest of him like a house fire.

“Your what?” His voice booms, hits your ears like a loud freight train making you jump in your spot. Your nerves now showing themselves—and you might of that you would have gotten used to his loud voice, his yelling, his anger. But this seems different, the heat in his eyes not his usual fire aimed at you.

“My boss got me an exclusive interview with him,” you fiddle with your purse. “Apparently he knows him, so I’m headed to the Iceberg Lounge.” You try to make a show of running your hand along your outfit to show it off, with as much of a smile as you can muster with all of his negative energy being thrown at you. Of course he was going to ruin this for you. Going to rain down on the piece of work that could not only provide you with a couple months rent, but also land you more serious stories. Something you don’t think he truly understood, having come from money after all. Being a hermit in your tower for two years making him forget that people actually had to make a living and not just sneak off at night and pummel someone.

But maybe that wasn't it. Maybe he did understand, maybe you should of given him the benefit of the doubt, not let him drag the mood down into the trenches where he seemed to love to hangout.

“If you need me to help you tonight I can when I get back.” Because why else would he be so upset right now? You weren't always going to be on call when, or if, he needed you. “I’d say you could join me but we both know your bat isn’t welcomed in most places, and I don’t feel like supporting another black eye.”

“That's not why-” he shouts, snarls, stops himself to let out something as close to a growl of frustration. “It’s dangerous, he’s dangerous.”

“He’s not going to-”

“Because your boss knows him?” He scoffs a little, “he’s done worse to the people he knows than strangers on the street. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“Well, I didn't know what I was walking into when I followed you, and look how good that turned out.” You give him a mocking smile, the innuendo diverting to many different directions that makes him give you a searing look. Your insides twisting at which direction could be the one adding fuel to his fire of rage; that the two of you ended up fucking, or that you ended up with more than a black eye in the long run, a darkened heart that both bled and beated for him. Jealousy or remorse. Both sat in the pit of your stomach like a brick.

“You’re putting yourself in danger.”

You can't help the laugh that you let out, because was he serious? “You put yourself in danger every night, Bruce. And the minute I bring it up or even remotely hint to you not doing that, it’s like taking a bone away from a ravenous dog. But let me guess, that's different right?”

“It is!”

“Why? Because I don’t have a suit of armor to hide who I really am? Because I can’t take a punch? A knife?” You roll your eyes, “well news flash, you can barely take it. Should we go over the reason why you end up here every night? Because we both know it couldn't be just for my great company or companionship.” You shake your head, curse under your breath at the rage you now felt radiating through your veins thanks to him and his audacity.

It wasn't different. You had wasted your breath many times, pleads and begs of asking him to get his drug of vengeance somewhere else. To use his name and status instead of his fists and body riddled with scars, that would surely only get worse. He couldn't do this forever and it would surely kill him. And his anger and protested yells in your fight had taught you to keep your mouth shut. To not bat an eye anymore at the wounds that you had to fix, at the ache in your heart to see him not care for his own well being.

And you were sure this argument was going to end the same as the last one; guess you should redownload the dating app. Maybe you’d fuck Oswald out of spite. It wasn't that hard to close your eyes when a man who was less than attractive was behind you, and the only thing you wanted was that ten minute pleasure from his cock.

Your chest pang at the thought. Because you knew you wouldn't, and even if you would, the only thing you'd see if you tried, or closed your eyes, would be Bruce.

Fuck him.

“I don’t have time for this.” You give him a scowl and head for the front door. Your hand grabbing the doorknob the same time his gloved one grips your wrist in a death grip. Your scowl only deepens when you turn to look at him, as you try to free yourself from his hold—something pathetically useless with his strength.

“It’s not safe, not like this.”

“Like what, Bruce?” You huff, continuing your protests to have him let you go. Your wrist now burning from your attempts more than his actual grip on you. “Don’t ruin this for me! Not all of us can be born with a silver spoon in our mouths!”

“I’m saving you!”

“I’m not in danger!”

“That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be. Men like him are not the kind of men who would take a slam piece with a smile.”

“I’m not writing a slam piece, Bruce.”

“Even worse. Men like him don’t deserve praise, especially when he wouldn't bat an eye to wrap your dead corpse in that same paper from you printing one word wrong to make him look like a villain.”

His words stop you, make your blood run cold. Make those nerves turn into something with more edge that pricks and pokes holes in your optimistic outlook—your motivation for cash. And you don't know if your heart is beating so hard from anger, fear, or the fact that Bruce could be right. His points, frustratingly, laced with some possible truth to them. People have died at the Iceberg Lounge for less, you were sure.

“It’s not fair of me to ask you not to do this, I know.” Bruce’s voice slips from that anger and frustration, and back to his whisper; deep and pointed, calmer. “I’m just asking you to trust me on this. If there was a chance that…something…anything, could–would, happen to you-” he swallows, looks down for a second like he can’t look at you when he says the words, if he says the words—as if he himself isn't sure what words he wants to get out because this was new, all of it; the crumb of care he was showing you right now, the hint of more feelings than indifference, anger, and lust mixing in the air between the two of you right now. “Just don’t go.” Your stomach sinks, your heart following it into that bottomless pit of ache from him not being able to say those words that were on the tip of his tongue. Words that would do more than cut deep, would put a label on whatever this was between the two of you; something dangerous.

“Bruce..”

“I’ll let you do a story on me.” He huffs frustrated, “Bruce Wayne. Just stay.”

Stay.

He was asking you to stay instead of it being the other way around.

“Why do you care so much,” you can't help the bluntness dredging up, as if your heart can't wrap itself around this close-to-softness, to something other than pain and cuts from knives being shown from the man in front of you. Your gut instinct impulsing you to not trust it, to not let this man sink any further into the open parts of your heart that have the potential of being more than jagged. “Like I said before, I’m not even your girlfriend, just someone you-”

“No.” He says clipped, and it makes your gut instinct shine out, smirk, a sickly saddening feeling spread through you in an ‘I told you so.’ And you go to pull yourself from him again, but instead he’s pulling you closer, your forearms pressed to the hard armor covering his chest. His gaze burning into yours, “You’re more than that, and we both know it.” The tears that burn behind your eyes make you feel pathetic, make you want to fight to get away from him again. But you’re ensnared in his gaze, held by the light in the darkness around his eyes, his words that make those flutters come back. “You stepped into my world once before, I don’t want you to have to be subjected to it again. It’s worse enough I allow you to see the aftermath of it.”

And it’s the first time Bruce has ever, truly, outwardly expressed the shared knowledge that the two of you know; this nurse and patient relationship was fucked and no one should have to put a needle through his skin then beg him to stop so you would never have to again, to ask for more, to devote yourself to a person stuck in a bleak and black world of darkness hooked on the drug of venegance and justice. But the both of you knew you’d never turn it away. Shy away from the darkness of the blood and gashes. And maybe that was a problem in and of itself, that you had grown numb to it, something someone probably shouldn't do. Even if that numbness hadn't started with Bruce, it grew, festered, led to fights, anger, dangerous feelings mixed in that turned into love. At least for you.

You’re more than that.

His words. Proclamation. Spoken out to you. Not to the ether, not hidden in touches and orgasms. You were more than a girlfriend to Bruce.

But was it love? Could someone like him even love after seeing so much darkness. You had. Had seen the depths of darkness and still loved, still felt for him, and knew would continue to. Knew it deep down to your merrow. Bruce didn’t want you a part of that darkness but you had already stained your skin for him, and if that doesn’t give the true meaning of the darkness of love and devotion you don't know what does. What could.

“I will let you see the other half of me. But not this part. Stay.”

And how could you not?

When you return to work the following day your boss is less than pleased, looks more squirrley than normal. Talking about how you could have tarnished his name, his word, his honor, as if this interview was something that the both of you would highly regret in more ways than a simple ‘missed chance’. Him seeming more worried about his own fate than yours, something you try not to dwell on or let his words defer you into fear when they usually held no backing to begin with. While your boss may have been a good one, you wouldn't doubt he was on someone's payroll and that was the only way he could keep this place running, and you had no desire to delve into his life—especially when he couldn't care that much about yours.

But as soon as the words “I got an exclusive interview with Bruce Wayne” slip from your mouth his tone–and demeanor—shifts completely into something ecstatic. His words now turned into compliments and waving off the missed interview to one of the girls who work in the office, saying you were more suitable for this type of work anyway—whatever that had meant, you tried not to look too much into. Since the night Bruce had brought up the offer, promised, you had felt those annoying little flutters the closer the day came. The more you thought of that night, his burning touch to keep you safe, the pleading in his eyes that couldn't be engulfed by the fire of rage inside of them.

Not to mention the infamous Prince of Gotham barely showed his face let alone had ever let anyone interview him. So this was a big career opportunity for you, Bruce having promised to make up the difference for whatever your interview with Oz was going to pay off. But deep down you knew it wasn't the sentiments of your career gaining traction or even the money; he was finally letting you in. Even if it had a ‘strictly business’ bow wrapped around it. And maybe he was just grinning and bearing it so you wouldn't be caught up in the other half of his world anymore than you already were, maybe this was truly just about the safety of you. Him continuing to hide that darkness, even if you’ve seen the brunt aftermath of it. It didn't stop the flutters or the tightening in your chest as you type up your questions for him, as you let that silly school girl joy seep further into the cracks of your molten heart. Let yourself ignore the looming ‘things can only be good for so long between you two, before the worst comes back’ in the back of your head.

When the day finally comes you had expected him to show up late at night in your balcony door way, had counted on it actually. Him clad in his batsuit, hopefully minus the blood and woundage. But when you hear a knock on your door, opening it to see him, Bruce in the flesh, no armor in sight; you're shocked into silence. Your eyes taking him in for all his glory; this being the first time you had seen him in actual clothes, his clothes, his billionaire clothes, long jacket, dark shirt and pants. His hair not wet from sweat or a shower, his eye sockets unpainted. This was the real Bruce, or the one he let the public see. Something in the back of your mind telling you the Bruce who was usually dressed down and bruised in your bed was the real him. The Prince of Gotham was more myth than man.

And you’re even more shocked into silence when Bruce tells you that he wants to do the interview at his tower. The manor that hangs high above Gotham like a watchful eye, waiting, seething. Like a looming threat in the sky no one quite knows.

You don’t know what you expect when you walk through his doors, don’t know why you’d think his money would show in the form of fancy statues, paintings, expensive furniture, decorated in the ways his parents might have liked. But once you step through the threshold, let your eyes take it all in, the architecture that superasses the look of the outside; you know that this is completely Bruce. The dark vintage look, the gothic curve of the molding, ceiling, the furniture, the slight draft. The only thing that seems the most non-Bruce thing being the immense light that the many windows bring in. But then you even question that once you look out from the largest one that seems to show the city in its entirety, being able to gaze down at those below him, those who probably look up to his tower with a sneer of envy, despisement, maybe even fear.

You had never really had a second thought of Bruce himself before meeting his counterpart, had never blinked twice when people would bring him up in passing, in the papers. Ironically he was more myth than man to some—more than people really knew.

Bruce watches you as you look around, like a kid in a candy shop you are sure. And you think you see the corner of his mouth quirk up when you ask him about some of the pieces displayed throughout the place as he leads you through his vast estate. You had every right to feel self conscious about your shit apartment the first time he followed you home, you now realize.

After you’ve finished the interview, Bruce answering more than half of them—more than you expected him to actually answer, hence why you wrote out at least three pages full of them just in case he wanted to skip most of them. His face was stone, stoic, held together as he answered. Some answers more dry than others, sometimes he would let the air between the two of you sit, a tensed silence spreading as he stared at you, his thoughts louder than anything—and yet you couldn't hear them, couldn't read them as much as you wanted to—when you asked him certain intrusive questions, when you spoke of his parents, of his personal life; other than what you knew obviously. The look on his face one of debation you soon realize, debating on how deep he wanted to have you delve into his world, into this new part of him that wasn't just going to be news to the people of Gotham, but to you as well. You were learning parts of him that you now realize you should already know based on whatever it was between the two of you.

Facts that someone usually found out along the way when you have been fucking someone—stitching someones skin—for as long as you had. You tried not to think too much about it, tried to ignore those weird pricks of bitterness and melancholy that picked at your stomach the more you realized that Bruce was a mystery to you; if it wasn't darkness, blood, or wrapped in flesh, bone, and moans you didn't really know him.

Batman. That's who you knew. But much like your earlier thoughts, Bruce was more the Batman than he was really himself. Was more the true himself in bed with you than through the recording of his poised voice answering questions. So these silly feelings shouldn’t be picking at you.

But once the interview is over and the two of you sit across from each other in silence, the reality of how weird this all really is makes you laugh softly.

“What?”

“This,” you wave your hand around, the room you were currently in, the chair you were currently sitting in costing more than any salary you knew you’d ever make to live, let alone live in. “It’s kind of..”

“Weird.” Bruce finishes for you.

“Yes,” you smile and your stomach clenches when he returns it. It actually reaching his eyes. “I’m sure you never thought you’d have a journalist in your house, let alone your nurse and sometimes bedmate.” You tease.

His chuckle is soft as he shakes his head, “no, can’t say I ever really thought of it.”

The silence returns but this time it’s more comfortable, your eyes continuing their gazing throughout the room. Each time you find something new, something you didn't see before, some new weird object, or piece of furniture. You wonder if Bruce had decorated the place himself, you can't see it being one of his main priorities in life; a beautiful home.

Which makes you wonder, “where do you do all your vengeance stuff?” You turn back to him, see the amusement on his face falter just a bit, “the infamous Batman does have a lair does he not?”

And have one he did.

You hadn’t expected anything more than maybe a desk, his bike, and whatever else supplies it took to be Batman. But when you step from the elevator, your ears ringing with the sounds of flapping wings and screeches, the scent of motor oil and cleaning product, the source of the cold draft making goosebumps scatter across your flesh; it was not as you pictured it all.

It had been less spacious but at the same time vast, more cave-like. Your eyes going every which way as you watched the nighttime creatures flap around, Bruce showing indifference on his face, as usual. You couldn’t imagine getting anything done with those things around, but maybe that was just another peek into who Bruce was; he felt more comfortable around these creatures than he did people. Related to them in more ways than one, you were sure. So you hesitated to let your mind outwardly judge him for it, to paint this space something else other than what it was used for, what Bruce himself seemed to use it for, need it for; everyone had their own sanctuaries, safe havens, where they could take off the mask of the day and just be. This space was that for him, and by the look of slight unease on his features as you looked around, touched this, glanced at that, stared a little too long at his computer screens that display a gruesome scene, Bruce quickly turning off the monitors, worry is in his eyes; he had never brought anyone here before, let them into this crevice of his being.

Your heart ached at that knowledge.

Your fingers run along the hunk of metal on wheels that seems to take up most of the space, the dents and bullet holes indicating all you need to know of what it’s used for, or when he drives it. Impressive nonetheless.

“I bet this gets all the girls, huh?” You turn and shoot him a teasing look, your chest leaping when he gives that soft chuckle for the second time today. Hell must've froze over.

He doesn’t respond, only makes his way over to you. Watches you, takes you in fully like he can’t really believe you are here and that he’s shown you all that he has. You feel his fingertips graze against yours, feel his heat as he closes the distance between the two of you, slowly, cautiously. The tension in the air drifting to something else, back to what the two of you are used to. And when his lips press to yours, your back flush against the hunk of metal, his hands splayed across your hips; your insides are burning with feelings that are much different than you usually feel when his lips are to yours, or his hands on you.

It doesn’t take much scattering around your brain to pinpoint that it could be a dozen different feelings, but you settle on gratefulness. It had been a spoken—screamed—sentiment that you wanted, needed, more from him. Needed for him to let you in and actually see him for more than just what he was showing, letting you peek at a safe distance. The bloody gauze of wounds and torn hearts trailing the way to how the two of you finally ended up here. At this moment. With Bruce actually giving you those things—some of those things, the interview being the real only reason you were here, how you learned what his favorite color was, nothing else, you had to remind yourself.

A reminder that sizzled and threatened to burn out the deeper the kiss got. The more you felt the cold of the metal, felt his hands run up your sides, his cologne engulfing all of your senses, the creaks and cracks and drafts of the manor; you were here and Bruce was trying. You couldn’t ask for more right now, nor did you want to. Poking holes into the reality of everything could come later. Right now you were here and his fingers were dangerously close to slipping past the top of your jeans, the heat of his mouth hazing your brain. Morphing your thoughts to only Bruce Bruce Bruce. Feeling him, tasting him, letting him grip you from the inside out until you were nothing but a mess for him.

His lips pull away from yours, the look in his eyes that dark wanting you know so well. He parts his lips like he might say something but the words never come, just hot puffs of air from heavy breath.

And before you can think twice about ruining the moment, to just go back to kissing and his fingers resting on the button of your jeans; you’re already throbbing for him. Your heart speaks before your mind can, “Thank you.” His brow quirks a little, but he says nothing. “I know how hard this is for you, to bring me here, to let me see all of this.”

You’ve screamed at this man, yelled, declared your love, your hate, devotion. Moaned his name, begged to taste yourself on his tongue, and yet your voice is more shaky than it’s ever been. Almost timid. Cautious with your words, hoping, praying that what you say doesn’t make him turn in on himself again. To swiftly drag you away and back to your shitty apartment and only seeing him bloodied, once again. Returning to old habits and notions.

“I wish I knew how hard, the depth of it all.” You admit, not hesitating to add that you are grateful for what he has shown you, for his unspoken vulnerability. “You can trust me, Bruce. I have blood on my hands too, thanks to the Batman.” You joke softly. Your arms wrapping around his neck, forehead pressed to his. You see him close his eyes, take in a few long breaths.

His mouth opens to say something but then the elevator is moving, indicating another person coming down. Bruce pulls away from you, that rigidness back in his shoulders as his attention is turned to the graying man who steps from the elevators open doors.

Alfred.

“Ah, I believe we have yet to be introduced.” The older man smiles, holds out a hand for you as Bruce steals your voice away and does the introductions for the two of you; flashing Alfred a look that makes you bite back a smile—was he nervous? “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wondered when I would be so fortunate to meet the person who’s stitching is almost as good as mine.” He playfully jabs and it makes the two of you laugh. Bruce looking more brooding than ever as he watches the interaction, a strand of hair falling just across his eye, your fingers twitching at the urge to move it out of his face; flashes of times when you’d moved his hair from his eyes in more intimate settings scattering your brain. And you didn't know how much he had told Alfred about your relationship—whatever it was.

The two of you slip into casual conversation, Bruce contributing with a few soft grunts and pointed comments here and there but otherwise still silently watching on. You feel his eyes linger on your face, the movement of your lips as you talk. Feel the heat of his gaze making your stomach queasy with nerves and flutters—that you don’t trust yourself to steal a glance over at him. Afraid that whatever look was currently on your face would have you stuttering or worse.

“You should stay for dinner,” Alfred smiles. “Bruce barely eats as is and this will be a good excuse for him to actually join me at the table for once–not to mention get more nourishment than a few berries.” He’s giving a pointed look at the other, you see Bruce swallow down a grimace—does he not want you to stay? Or did he just not like Alfred’s caring, almost fatherly, sentiments. You didn't know as much and you figured, for the sake of not ruining the good day Bruce and you were having from stepping on his toes unintentionally; maybe dinner would be taking it too far, maybe he wasn't ready for that yet, you planned on saying no.

But then Bruce is mumbling, “Stay”, that word seeming to be your kryptonite when it comes to this man. The one word that could ruin you and put you back together.

And so you accept.

The dinner goes just as you suspected it to; Bruce only adding to the conversation here and there, him picking at the food on his plate, much like a child would. But by the look of joy on Alfred’s face it's probably more than he’s eaten in a while. Alfred shares stories of Bruce’s youth when his parents were alive, after they passed, Bruce looking elsewhere and adding nothing to this part of the conversation; you see him tightly grip his fork when one sweet story is told about him and his father—and you know, everyone knows, the tragedy that Bruce must of felt and gone through upon losing his parents. But seeing his body go rigid from the conversation and his neutral demeanor turn dark, you understand just a little bit more why he would never give up his alter ego, stop living his double life. You can see that pain, and why the Batman is the salve for it.

When the conversation deverts to you—unfortunately—you answer Alfred’s questions with a smile, “I think what drove me to be a journalist was my mother,” you explain. “I remember her reading to me, not just storybooks before bed, but even the morning paper sometimes,” you laugh, “which surely did not have things a young child should be hearing. But that’s something I always loved most about my mother, she never sugarcoated anything. Never kept me from the real world, the cruelty of it, the darkness of it all. She always captured the importance of the story when she read it back to me, making sure I knew how important it was for people to know the true colors of others. How one false statement could turn someone into a god or a decibel, when they were actually really the devil.”

You don't realize how lost in your thoughts you are, and the words spilling from your mouth like word vomit until you look over to Bruce and his expression is unreadable, but makes your stomach tense with something. You quickly grab the wine beside your plate taking a long sip, swallowing down those feelings.

“Is your mother still in your life?” Alfred asks, gently, politely.

“No,” you frown, your voice going just above a whisper. You never really talked about the tragedy of your mother. Choosing to dismiss it all together to save yourself the headache—and therapy bill. A method that's worked for you thus far. “She died when I was around thirteen. My father, he uh…cared more about his next drink and putting hands on my mother, than all else. And one night he hit her a little too hard and that was all it took.” You take another sip of your wine to distract yourself from looking at both of their surprises eyes, and devastatingly pitying faces. It never bothered you to speak about your mother and her passing anymore, or your shit father. The only thing that seemed to bother you from speaking of it was how everyone reacted. Like they were now putting the pieces together in their head as to why you did this, said that, acted the way you did and it all made sense. And you hated that. Thought it was pathetic to label someone with that type of judgment for their past.

But had that not been what you had done countless times with Bruce?

Your stomach sinks at the thought. By the way his eyes shift away from yours when you finally look over at him.

“I’m so very sorry to hear that, dear.” Alfred gives you a soft smile, and like he understands completely, he changes the subject promptly to better topics.

“I didn’t know about your parents.” Bruce is looking down as he walks beside you to the front door. The evening coming to an end, the time you spent in his space, the only calm in his life—that you know he barely allows himself to stop and enjoy. The feeling in your stomach is bittersweet.

“How could you,” you laugh softly. “We only talk about you and your counter-bat.” You give him a teasing smile but there's a slight wounded look on his face from your joke—that maybe came off more as a dig.“I guess I’m like you in that aspect, if no one asks I dont have to tell. I have my mother to thank for my ability to keep secrets. It's one of my best attributes, I think you would agree.” You give him a small reassuring smile, which he returns. The corner of his mouth pulling up in a lopsided grin. You think you’ve lost count how many times you've seen that smile today, can't wrap your head around this alternate reality you've stepped into. But know you don't want to leave it. Not yet. Not ever.

A silence falls over the two of you, Bruce looking at you with that same expression you can't quite decipher; it still leaves your chest with an ache and stomach in shambles nonetheless. The sun has set by now making the light from the moon cast an eerie glow around the manor, the gothic features and architecture washed in a nightly glow more suited for them, more ominous.

“I should go, it’s late.” The two of you had planned to leave and head back to your place as it is, this little tryst in the hall halting your actions mere feet from the door before you passed the threshold of the manor, of this side of Bruce you craved to burrow yourself in, to stay. But deep in your gut it was telling you that this moment of calm between the two of you was impossible to stay unscathed. There would always be knives, scratches, and blood when it came to the two of you. Darkness and apprehension. Terror and fear of ones heart and ones darkened outer edges that would bring on more fights, more wanting, more misunderstandings. You didn't think, even after everything, that this new ground between the two of you could make anything better, easier. Because you knew Bruce, knew how he liked to close in on himself once he showed you his sides, let you in only to shut you out when things got too dark.

And it made your chest sting, ache, crack. You had been engulfed in another part of him, peered into his head, his home, his darkened heart and you didn't want out. Nails and torn skin were only to come when he dragged you out of it.

You turn from him, take a step to head for the door, but then his wrist is wrapping around yours to stop you from moving, keeping you still in time. “Stay.” Your heart lurches in your chest. Bruce pulls you back to him, so your fronts are pressed close together. His palm going to the side of your neck, his thumb pushing your chin up to you’re looking up at him, into his murky blue eyes. “Stay.”

You've been a fool many times, with many things, but right now, this moment, was not one of them. How could you deny this? Deny him? How could you ever leave this manor feeling whole if you didn’t stay, do what your heart desires, what your insides flutter and soar over. Of course you’d stay, you’d always stay for him. Every part of him.

And when his lips touch yours and the two of you don't pull away until you are inside of his room; Bruce helping you slip out of your clothes, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, the top of your breasts, your abdomen, your hips, as he does. Until you are completely naked in front of him and he pulls you to the bed, where he crawls on top of you, lets his heat sink into every pour on your skin, continuing his singeing of every nerve of your body, every opening, until he’s blocked it, consumed it with just him.

His hips move languid and slow between your legs, his cock drags and fills you with a new notion, a new feeling, a new promise. His praises landing on your lips and swallowed down by your devotion, your love. This type of fucking is soft, intimate, its an act of lust so filled with other feelings that it hurts, but mends within the same thrust. Within the same kiss, suck, bite. It fills you and takes away, it promises more but still adds that fear of going away forever.

You’re not used to it, so much so that you feel in agony, feel like a fucked out mess more than you do when Bruce takes you roughly, unrelenting. It makes your stomach churn and bubble with things that won't last, that need it to last. It's more painful than his teeth sinking into your skin; and yet you want to feel it over and over again.

When you wake it's in the middle of the night, the cool air of the room nipping your back as you lay half across Bruce’s chest. You're surprised to see him sleeping, smile at how calm he actually looks. The deep sighs and intakes of breath as he actually lets himself get rest. You can't recall a time ever seeing him sleep, let alone spending a full night with him. It warms your heart in the same way it burns it.

You brush the strands of hair that have fallen across his eyes, let your fingertips linger against his skin for a beat, a second, let the beauty of this man make your chest heave and long for him. Deepen that love for him, that want.

You try to fall back asleep but can't seem to silence your thoughts, your mind asking a million questions you do not have the answers to, and may never have the answers to. Deciding that slipping out of bed to distract yourself is your best bet, grabbing Bruce’s black t-shirt to cover you as you quietly leave his room and explore around the manor.

Once you get far enough you curse yourself for not putting on pants, or at least the clothes you came in. What if Alfred didn't sleep, much like Bruce; Imagine the awkwardness that would ensue if he happened upon you only wearing a shirt and underwear. You turn to tip toe back to the room, but then distraction takes over and you find yourself stopping at a door on the way; opened enough to showcase the massive collection of shelves filled with books, and when you push the door open wider you can see the somewhat set up of an office—mostly books, a small library more like it.

You find yourself gravitating into the room, running your finger along the shelves and book spines. Smile at all the classics that seem to be taking up the majority of them, wonder if Bruce has read them all, or if all of these belonged to his parents, or maybe even Alfred. Grabbing one of the books, you lean yourself against a shelf and flip through it mindlessly. Let your eyes scan over a paragraph here and there. Your mind drifting to a place of solemn calm that you don’t hear, or see, the figure at the doorway. Not until it’s said something and you’re jumping out of your skin.

“Looking for family secrets?”

Bruce’s voice is filled with sleep, deep and rough. There's still exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles around them still apparent. A small smile creeps up onto his lips that eventually turns into a laugh that the two of you share as you try to catch your breath from being spooked.

“Have you read all of these?” You ask, turning the book over in your hands before you turn to place it back in its rightful place. Your eyes skating over the rest on the shelf.

“Yes,” he answers softly. “Most of them.”

Your eyes continue to scan the shelves, pulling out a few to gaze at their covers before pushing them back in place. Bruce is silent behind you, his footsteps light as you hear him make his way into the room; don’t know he is right behind you until you feel the heat of his chest radiating off of his body and onto your back. His fingers run up and down your arms making you shiver slightly, making reality come back to you. Making you want to speak words of sentiment and questioning, when you know deep down you won’t get the answers you seek. You’ll only ruin this moment, this time spent with him in this house; burning it to ash like every other sweet moment between the two of you ends up.

But you can’t help yourself. Can’t hold your tongue any longer. The feelings bubbling up inside of you from everything that happened earlier tonight.

“What are we doing here, Bruce?” Your voice is soft, gentle.

You expect to feel him go rigid against you as his fingers stop, as he grips your arms with a light hold. Instead you feel the press of his forehead against the back of your head, feel his deep breaths fan across your skin. There’s a slight shake to his voice when he finally speaks, “I’m trying. I don’t know how to offer more—what you need.” He sighs, “but I’m trying.”

Flutters, lurches, concaving. It’s all you feel your insides doing, leaving you barely breathing. Shaking. When you turn, let your eyes meet his and see the desperate look of understanding, hope, need, desire, your response dies on your lips. It swallowed down shakily, dismissed entirely. You don’t think there is truly anything you could say right now, could bring to the surface that would make this moment anymore ardent than it already is.

He’s trying. It’s all you wanted all along, all of this. For the both of you. Even if no matter how hard the two of you try it will be covered in blood and scars at the end of the day. It’s yours. You’re together. For worse or for substandard; Bruce was all that you wanted.

You press your lips to his, passion quickly turning into greed; teeth and tongue mixed. Hands removing clothes, Bruce’s palms on the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up, your back pressed against one of the shelves.

His mouth is hot and unrelenting, bruising your lips with how rough he kisses you, how deeply passionate it conveys. Those ever known unspoken words continue to write themselves in these kisses you share together.

You can feel the heat of his cock against your thigh, the warmth of it burning an unfathomable desire through your skin and to your core. That’s growing slicker and slicker by the minute, with every grip of his fingers, every bite of your lips, neck, ear. Every touch of his tongue. The two of you having had each other mere hours ago, but needing more. Craving more, like your last meal, last breath, your body getting carried away to the guillotine; imprinting the need and desire to feel him, to be completely consumed by him no better than a beautiful death, a death worth succumbing to.

“I want you,” his voice is merely a whisper against your lips, his hair falling in his face, chest heavy.

You swallow down the emotions that are begging to be released; tears, screams, love notions. Your palms move his hair from his eyes so you can see him, so you can press your hands to his cheeks, “I’m yours.” You whisper before pressing your lips back to his.

One of his hands moves from your thigh to guide his cock to your entrance, and when he thrusts in it’s hard and makes your back slam against the shelf behind you. Makes you moan loudly against his mouth, his own groan coming out like rough gravel against your tongue. Cutting you deep and beautifully. And then his hand is back on your other thigh gripping, keeping you in place as he fucks into you hard and fast.

The two of you completely ensnared in each other, completely taken and consumed by what this is now, what it’s grown to be.

Your nails dig into Bruce’s back the harder he fucks you, your walls clenching around him, sore and swollen. His breath is hot against your neck, his pants and groans deep and animalistically fueled with pleasure and lust.

You don’t pay much mind to how bruised you’re sure your back is getting from how hard he is fucking you, or the books that have fallen from the shelves around the two of you. Or how much noise you are making—not caring if you were to wake anyone. No, all that matters is right here, right now, how good Bruce’s cock feels, how sharp and deep his thrusts are. How you’re sure you’re leaving deep welted scratches on his back, how the pain mixes with pleasure, with your love; how you never want it to end.

THIS IS SO CUTE WTF

❝baby mine, don't you cry❞ — Richard “Dick” Grayson

The arrival of your first child and the chaotic energy he brings into your life (which is saying a lot, why chaos is a part of you). So imagine the gray hair you obtained thanks to your First Joy.

NOTE:

People forget that as Dick he was a troublesome little shit and he still is. We love him but he is the chaotic son and @igotmessymind agrees with me!!!

This story is part or the BATMOM SCARLET WITCH UNIVERSE that a have create. I hope you enjoy!!!

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

WARNINGS: Dick's parents die; a boy who is very angry with the world; a very stressed new mother (you); Bruce is there, but that's not what this story is about, but he is a good father in this world.

Technically, the first time you met Dick was directly after his parents died, but he wouldn't remember that until he was an adult. And you never counted that as your first interaction with your boy because of the tragedy of the whole scenario.

You and Bruce had gone to the circus that day in the subtlest way a Wayne could go anywhere. It was a date night, one that both of you had recently defined as mandatory every week. First so that Bruce could have a break, and second because that way you guys started spending time together somewhere other than the batcave. Something that, according to Alfred, you both desperately needed as a couple.

You two were in the front row when Mary and John Grayson plummeted to their deaths in the middle of their circus act, leaving a horrified ten-year-old Dick. The boy's scream was something that, even years later, if you closed your eyes, you could still hear with terrifying clarity. Once the tent was evacuated and the crime scene isolated by the GCPD, the newly promoted Captain Jim Gordon arrived and, before you left, he very subtly approached you and your husband. He asked you if you could do something for the child. The forensics team will arrive at any moment now, and they will have to uncover the bodies. Nobody couldn't get Dick to move or to react in any way, and Jim wanted to spare the boy seeing his parents like this more than he already had.

Jim had been aware of your and your husband's identities for a while, so the request didn't surprise you. To the contrary, you quickly agreed. He took you back to the tent. Dick had been lowered from the platform, but he remained curled up in a ball on the floor, next to where the bodies of his parents were covered in white sheets, which were turning redder from day to day. Little with each passing moment. You approached him, with the most delicate step possible, and placed a hand on his hundred, entering his mind gently and gently guiding his consciousness out of the shock of the situation. It was superficial magic that didn't get you into the boy's mind very much, just enough to help him and not force him. In a few seconds the boy's head snapped up, and you let Jim quickly take control of the situation, allowing one of his detectives to guide you back out of the closed area, then back to your husband. 

You had to help your husband out of his own shock that same night, forcing him to stay home and not go out as Batman, without accepting any complaints. Alfred helped, agreeing with the idea immediately. The death of the Grayson's in front of his own son was something that came very close to Bruce's heart, too many buried memories that arose uncontrollably.

The first official meeting that both of you remember is almost two weeks later. After you and Bruce had decided to take care of little Dick into your own hands. All because you find out how the boy kept sneaking out of the houses where the state put him at least once a day since that fateful night.

“Dick, this is my beautiful wife, y/n Wayne” Bruce introduced them both that day when the boy arrived with his suitcase and his eyes wide open, surprised by all the luxury that Wayne Manor represents. Smile at yourself and look briefly at your husband in reproach for his choice of words. He just shrugged, not at all sorry for his words. It's the truth. You ARE beautiful, and you are MY wife, he thought in his defence, knowing you would listen. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to the child between the two of you.

“It's a pleasure, Mr. Wayne” The boy said suspiciously, but politely, not believing how good the situation looked for him and not trusting you or your husband at all.

“It's nice to meet you too, Dick” you told him, smiling sweetly “No need to be so formal, just call me y/n, it's fine”

Dick's mind couldn't stop thinking about how pretty you were. The way you were sweet in that first meeting was bittersweet for him, because he reminded him of his own mother, of that affection that she used to give him and that he would never receive from her anymore.

“Lunch is almost done” you tell him as you lean a little more towards Bruce for support, “Are you hungry?. Alfred prepared a buffet just to welcome you” you explained trying to push those thoughts away for now, you desperately wanted him to feel good and comfortable there.

“Alfred?” the boy asked, confused.

“Our butler” Bruce explained 

“He's more like family than anything” you clarified, “Like a grumpy grandpa who won't let you touch the stove without breathing over your shoulder” you teased a bit.

“Did he say my name, Mistress y/n?” said the aforementioned, coming from the kitchen and looking at you accusingly.

“No, not at all” you denied it and Dick couldn't help but smile a little at the mischief, to which you winked at him and offered your hand.

“Come on, let me show you the dining room” you invited him and the boy left your hand dangling for a moment, thinking about his next move. But, since you didn't stop smiling or offering him your hand, Dick decided to take it last, mainly because he was hungry.

Dick let you guide him, serve him food. He talked to you a bit during the meal until Bruce had to go to Wayne Enterprises for a meeting, then you showed him the mansion and his room. You promised him that you would go shopping this week to decorate it to his liking so that he would feel more comfortable.

During that week was the honeymoon phase.

The social worker you and Bruce had meetings with before Dick arrived explained about the phase. It's when everything seems perfect and the child shares his best manners. Either out of fear of how you would react. Or hoping to see how long your stay in the house would last, if it's worth getting used to or not. But the act would end sooner or later.

And it was exactly one week later (a Tuesday to be exact), the day after Dick started attending his new school, that the boy act ended and the adjustment phase officially began.

“This stage is the most difficult, so I need you to be prepared for it, especially in a case like Richard's” the social worker explained to both of you with seriousness. You had taken every word she gave you with like it was the bible, but at the end you still weren't ready when it started and everything that happened hit you like a truck.

You were in your studio in downtown Gotham, having a meeting with the designers who work with you and discussing that winter's new clothing collection for the brand. When Nina, your personal assistant, enters the office after timidly knocking on the door with a worried face.

“Mrs. Wayne” she called out to you, to which you look at her, smiling kindly upon seeing her “I know that you asked me not to bother you unless it was an emergency” she said, remembering what you had told her, you frowned immediately worried, because Nina was extremely effective and if she was there it was because it was genuinely an emergency “Gotham Academy is on call, it's about your son” she told you, and you immediately called off the meeting before leaving on the phone.

It turned out that not only had the school called, but GCPD had called Bruce around the same time.  Dick, your only ten-year-old boy, had run away from school and ended up being found in Crime Alley by an officer who recognised him from the news.  The officer in turn informed Jim Gordon, knowing the proximity to the Wayne's, and he gave the order to bring the boy to his office in the centre of the city, to then call your husband.  You never knew what god to thank for Dick that would have been found by one of the few good cops in Gotham, but you did anyway.

“What is he thinking?” you asked worriedly while talking on the phone with Bruce, already on your way to the police station, with Alfred driving, “Anything could have happened to him.  If he didn't want to go to school he could have said, he insisted on starting this week, I don't understand!-” you stopped, passing your hand over your eyes and sighing heavily.

“That was probably the point, love” Bruce said softly. “He wanted you to leave him at school and not think about the matter anymore.  It is likely that his plan would have always been to escape, surely he would have done the same yesterday if he had not been assigned a partner for his first day” he explained to you, his voice accompanied by the movement of papers on the desk in his own office.

The day before, which had been Dick's first day of school since the death of his parents, the school had assigned one of its older students to guide him on that day, so he had been watched all day. But that day had been different, and your son had gotten up in the bathroom in the middle of the first class, and had not returned to the classroom. So the school had called you when they realised the boy was missing.  And Jim had called Bruce shortly after when the patrolman found him. And Dick had taken a cab to Crime Alley, of all the places.

“He's safe, you need to calm down, love” Bruce continued, getting up from his desk, to walk up to the large windows in his office and look out over the city, as if he could see you from the top of Wayne Tower “We'll talk to him when he gets home, before dinner, but upsetting you like that won't help” he advised you, even though he was just as worried about what had happened.

“Alright, alright” you whispered while taking a deep breath.

At the door of the police station you were met by a uniform who was waiting for Jim's orders, who took you to the captain's office where, sitting with his head down and his arms crossed tightly across his chest, you found Dick. 

“Richard Grayson” you started in a stern tone, walking towards him and crouching down in front of him, to check that he wasn't hurt. “¿What were you thinking?¿Why do you think of getting in Crime Alley alone?” you asked calmly but firmly, looking at me as the boy avoided returning the gesture “Dick, look at me” you insisted, looking for his gaze, but the boy continued to refuse, almost tempted to close his eyes to make his denial clear. 

“Mrs. Wayne” Captain Gordon called to you from his desk, where he had been watching the interaction, and you quickly stood up to greet him.

“Jim, you don't know how much I appreciate you for this. I almost had a heart attack when the school called me to say that Dick was missing” you told him as you shook his hand. 

“Don't worry, your boy was just taking a walk, a bit of a dangerous adventure, but he came out without a scratch” he reassured you while looking at the crestfallen boy sitting next to you, and he did not miss the way your hand trembled slightly “Gomez” the officer who had brought you to the door looked at his boss ready to receive his order “Why don't you take little Dick to get something to eat from the vending machine down the hall?” and his question didn't need an answer. Dick left with Officer Gomez without saying a word, as you watched his back walk away through the glass in the office door.

“Y/n, please, sit down” Jim asked as he approached one of the chairs on the guest side of his desk, sitting down across from you immediately after you did.

“I'm sorry, I just-” You tried to apologise for how upset you were, but the man stopped you with an understanding smile.

“Don't worry, y/n. I was close to an aneurysm the first time my Barbs ran away from school” he told you trying to calm you down, to which you giggled at the thought of the adorable red-haired little girl who was the only daughter of the Gordon family.

“They start younger and younger” you plead, with a mixture of amusement and concern looking at the older man.

“Well this is Gotham, our kids have to grow up faster than others” he explained to you, while he served a glass of water from the jug that he had on his desk “Your butler had the same reaction when I found your husband walking in the same place years ago, shortly after the death of Thomas and Martha” he remembered, offering you the glass, which you accepted with anguish.

“God, he already acts like Bruce, and he hasn't even been with us for two weeks” you lamented, to which Jim couldn't help but chuckle a bit at your concern.

“Welcome to parenthood, your heart gets used to it sooner or later” he comforted you, running his hand down your back reassuringly.

Things got worse before they got better. Dick started running away not only from school, but from home, and he started yelling at you at unexpected times. There was no way for you to figure out what was making him mad because it was different what you did or didn't do every time he started his tantrum.

That was the case for more than two months after the first incident. Alfred told you that Bruce had been the same for a full year after his parents died. Bruce told you it wasn't your fault, despite what the kid was yelling at YOU all the time. But you could do more than feel guilty. You didn't want to fix things with your magic. When you retired you decided that your life could not be what you did with your power, it was more than just your power, and it was time to start accepting it, enjoying it. But you don't know how to help him without that power, either, at least not in a very deep way. So you did the only thing you could think of, you kept offering your hand to little Dickie, even though half the time he seemed to want to bite his hand.

It all came to a head one afternoon after you brought a very angry Dick to Wayne Manor from school. Gotham Academy had called you to talk after he tried to escape again. They informed you that maybe it was time for you and Bruce to look for another school for the boy, since his behaviour was not appropriate for the establishment.

“Dick, we need to talk” you called out to the boy, seeing him run towards the stairs as soon as you closed the front door. Alfred was shopping for dinner and Bruce was at League HQ, so you were the only one to argue with the kid that day “Dick Grayson, come back here, we're going to have a talk about this sooner or later” you said, going after the boy with a calm step, but Dick heard you coming and ran to his room at the moment he made the second floor of the house, slamming the door shut before you managed to finish climbing the stairs.

You sighed heavily as you stopped at the sound of the door slamming. You wanted desperately to go into the room and demand that the boy tell you what was bothering him so much, you wanted desperately to fix whatever was bothering him so much. But you knew you couldn't really fix the source of his problems, even if you had the magical potential to do so. You learned long ago that death is something even you must let take its course, for the sake of the very existence of the whole. You also didn't want to enter the boy's mind with magic, it wouldn't be fair to him to do that, so your options were limited at the end of the day. So you stood there, helpless.

You were having a hard time, not because you didn't want the task of taking care of Dick, but because it was a mixture of situations that seemed unfair to you. First the poor boy lost his parents together in front of his eyes, and he did so after the death of the Scarlet Witch, after you decided it was better to start a life without the chaos magic that characterised you. If the boy had crossed your path a couple of years earlier, neither Mary nor John had fallen to their deaths that day, you would have stopped it right there in that tent of the circus without much thought. But it hadn't been.

Although, you didn't need to read his mind to know one thing: Dick hated you. Totally and intensely. He had made it clear to you on more than one occasion.

And yes, he did. Dick hated everything about you. He hated the way you made his room look like the ideal in his mind of what he wanted. How you personally prepared his lunches for school. How you wore it and personally attracted you everywhere. How you smile with affection, how you patiently accept every insult and scream. I also hated how you tried so hard that he wouldn't notice that Bruce wasn't there much. Or how you always found him when he got lost in the halls. Also, when you brought him cookies and hot chocolate when he couldn't sleep, even though sugar didn't really help him sleep at all. He only made him happy for a while.

Why couldn't you be like the wicked stepmothers of the stories? 

It would be easier for him.

He hated the way you loved him, because it made him want his mom back, and it made him remember that she was gone, it made him want to accept you and Bruce as his family too. But he didn't need a new family. He necessitated his family, his parents, and his circus friends. He wanted his life back.

He hated you. He hated you. He hated you.

Dick curled up on the bed, with the blankets you personally picked out with him, which were Superman, and hid his head on the pillow. There he remained. At eleven years old, Dick had never been the type to be capricious or suspicious. His parents had always taken pride in saying that his son was very well-behaved and fit in wherever they went with the show. But now he just wanted to hate and never stop doing it, he didn't want anything else because the world was cruel, and it didn't deserve more than his hate. You didn't deserve more than that for being so good that it made him want to feel like before, and it pulled his mind to a better place every time you caressed his hair lovingly and made him feel at home.

That night, after eating the sandwich that Alfred had kindly given him when he refused to come down for dinner, he went to sleep without expecting you to come and say good night, as you had done since he arrived at the mansion. Usually, he didn't go to sleep easily, but his desire to avoid you overcame the fear of his nightmares, so he quickly fell asleep.

You arrived after he began to snore softly, already sunk in sleep. You entered, opening the door as quietly as possible, to see him spread out on his bed, with his pyjamas on, and the sheets almost falling off the bed due to his movements. Likewise, you couldn't help but feel the tenderness warm your heart, thinking to yourself that this should be a good step on the right path, because the boy hadn't slept well since he arrived at the mansion and since before, according to the reports of the social worker. So that he was sleeping at that time was good. You took victory silently and closed the door to the room, using the surface of your powers to close the curtains that let the moonlight into the room before walking away. 

You went down to the cave after that, where Bruce was getting ready to go out for the night.

“How is he?” he asked while putting on his gloves, as soon as he heard you walking out of the elevator.

“He's asleep” you told him with a big smile, happy for the small victory.

“Really?” Bruce asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Yes” you answer, reaching her side, unable to contain the smile of happiness, for that reason “I know it's not much considering what happened today-” you started, but your husband stopped you by placing his hands on your cheeks affectionately.

“It's a good thing” he assured you, smiling at you, and you kissed his lips lightly “We still need to talk to him tomorrow though” Bruce said, gently breaking your bubble, to which you sighed.

“If it makes you feel any better, Mistress y/n” Alfred began from the chair in front of the batcomputer “I could make you a list of the number of private schools Master Bruce was expelled from before he finally calmed down” he offered to what Bruce rolled his eyes in amusement “It's including Gotham Academy, of course” he clarified with amusement.

The night passed as normally as it could. But around one in the morning you went upstairs to check on Dick, as you always did at night when you stayed in the cave. It was the third time you'd checked, and he'd been fine the first two times, having started snoring louder on each visit.

So you expected to hear the boy snoring when you reached the hallway of his room, instead, you were met with crying. You stopped in place for a moment, because it was the first time you had heard Dick cry since he had arrived at the mansion.

“Mama” the boy cried, half awake and half asleep, “Mama” kept calling between sobs that shook her little body violently.

The most instinctive part of you walked quickly towards the door with a soft step, but the same logic made you stop at the door before even touching the handle, apart from that he told you that the boy was calling for his mom, for Mary. Not for you, he didn't want you. And for a moment you decided that you would not go in, and we let him cry all he needed, and tomorrow you would try to get him to talk about it. It might be a good time to suggest therapy. Yes, that was the best option and the best way to handle the situation.

“Mom, mom” you heard. Now fully awake, Dick continued to sob with his broken heart, and he broke yours with the sound of his cracking voice. So the institute won.

You walked into the room ready to be yelled at almost immediately. But you did it anyway, sure-footed and ready to do whatever it took to make your precious boy stop suffering once and for all. You knew that that would never leave him, but you would still try.

“Dickie, baby” you said as you approached the bed, to sit on the edge of the mattress next to him, running a hand over his back as he continued to cry and sobbed loudly “My joy, it's okay, you're-” and then the force of the child colliding with your chest stopped you.

In the time Dick had been there, he had never allowed you or Bruce or Alfred to get any closer than to hold his hand or stroke his hair. So when the boy threw himself at you crying and hugging your waist as if his life depended on it, he surprised you. He was hugging you as if he was afraid that you would disappear from one second to the next (theoretically you could do that, it was part of your powers, but that wasn't what the boy was afraid of). He sobbed into your chest as his knuckles turned white from clinging to you.

“It's okay, my joy” you comforted him, hugging him back and kissing his hair “Everything will be alright” you promised him, not quite sure what else to say to make him feel better and hugging him tighter to match his strength, so he would understand that you won't be leaving soon

“I want my mum” the boy sobbed, not with an internal intention to hurt you, but as if asking you to do something. You were an adult, you could fix anything, that's what adults do, and the ten-year-old was practically begging you desperately for a solution as he felt.

“Oh, I know, Dickie. I know” you said hugging him tighter “I'm so sorry, baby” you apologised, feeling bad for having no more than words to handle the situation, knowing that nothing will bring that child back to his parents, no matter how much you want to make it happen for him.

You would do anything for that boy. You would destroy yourself, and you would build yourself up again. Not only that, but you would empty out entire universes and kill God himself if necessary. But for now, you just held him while he cried, while he called out to a mother who lay twenty feet under. You knew, at that moment, that there would never be anything you wouldn't do for that boy. And Dick decided that night that maybe you weren't so bad.

Dick Grayson couldn't believe he was standing in the Batcave. He also couldn't believe his adoptive father was Batman. Now he understood why he was always missing for so long, it wasn't that Bruce was ignoring him, it was that he was down there, being a hero for Gotham City. His mind was racing as he walked around the place asking your husband questions and inspecting every nook, artefact, and blemish he found in the place. You and Bruce watched him from a distance, grinning like fools at the uncontrollable excitement of the boy who had long felt like he was your own.

“This is AMAZING” Dick would say whenever something particularly struck him, which means he said it every few seconds.

“See, he told you he would be excited” you told your husband while you took his hand, he smiled at you and brought your clasped hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles affectionately. A silent way of telling you: You were right, love.

“WOW” exclaimed the boy, he was now standing on the platform where the different suits that your husband had used as Batman are displayed “With all due respect, Bruce, but it's good that you left behind the combination of purple and yellow, it was too much” the boy scoffed, pointing at the first suit on display behind him.

“It was the eighties” your husband defended himself with a grimace, rolling his eyes at how similar the comment was to the one you had made the first time you set foot in the cave several years ago. You just laughed as you looked at him, happily remembering that moment.

“Purple looks amazing on you, my love” you assured him, caressing his cheek with your free hand. “Very intimidating” you said, to which both you and Dick chuckled, while Bruce continued to regret his fashion decisions.

“I tried to talk him out of it, Master Dick” Alfred commented, joining the bandwagon of teasing Bruce about his old fashion decisions. “But he insisted,” he shrugged gracefully.

“Okay, I'm going to throw him out of my cave if you don't leave my purple suit alone” Bruce complained, to which you and Dick shared an amused look before the boy returned his attention to the suits on display. Alfred smiled as he watched you kiss your husband in compensation, earning me a goofy smile from him, the one the butler had seen a lot since you two got married.

“HOLY SHIT” Dick suddenly exclaimed, to which you and Bruce turned to look at him wearing it, your husband ready to spring into action at your son's exclamation “You've got the Scarlet Witch suit here!!” the boy exclaimed excitedly, looking at your husband in disbelief before running to stand in front of the glass where your old suit is on display. Well, the word suit was an understatement, because it was a red bodysuit, with a belt, the cape, and high boots. An outfit that was not the best choice for fighting, but you never question it too much, because you were always comfortable in yourself and in that outfit, too.

Bruce and you shared a look. It was time to drop the second bomb on the boy. Now you were the one worried about her reaction.

“How did you get it?” Dick asked excitedly, his nose glued to the glass, pawing it with his breath “I thought the Justice League couldn't get her body back from the Dimension of the Damned after she closed the portal to save us” he said, thinking aloud, while analysing the garment.

Up close, he could see the details of the fabric, the way the cloak had a texture and wasn't smooth as it seemed watching it from the television. It was as if magic was embedded in the fabric, and it moved even when she was still on the mannequin. The boy was fascinated, definitely marking this as the best day of his life.

“Well that's true. The League was unable to recover her body after she closed the portal” explained Bruce, as he hugged your waist, pressing his fingers against you at the memory of those events that still haunt him “But the suit is here for its protection, nothing more, it still belongs to its owner” Bruce finished, letting the boy think a little about his words.

“Wait,” Dick said, frowning and turning away from the video, to walk to the railing of the platform. And how do you have it, if she never left the Dimension of the Damned?” the boy frowned, thinking hard that how could it be that this was the original costume.

“It's more like early retirement than death” Dick jumped in place when you appeared next to him, speaking sweetly to him “But yes, the Scarlet Witch never made it out of the Dimension of the Damned” you explained to him, while you crouch in front of him, the boy turned to face you still confused by what he was saying “Dick, do you remember that we told you that we had to tell you a couple of things?” you asked him and the boy quickly nodded “Well first we wanted to tell you that Bruce is Batman, as you already deduced” you pointed to your husband on the lowest platform “And the other one is that I'm-” Before you could say more, Dick squealed with excitement again.

“YOU ARE THE SCARLET WITCH, HOLY FUCK!!” the boy yelled with his eyes as wide as his eyelids would allow.

“Language, Master Dick” Alfred scolded absently from below.

“OH-MY-GOD” The boy yelled again, looking at me as if you were hanging the stars from the sky, throwing himself on you, hugging you with his arms around your neck “I knew you weren't dead, I argued every day with my friends about this, it didn't make sense for YOU to die just like that, no amount of spawn could kill the Scarlet Witch, it's absurd-” The boy began to ramble as you picked him up in your arms, he hug your hips with his legs intuitively, and you walked down with him in your arms. Smiling softly at the boy's excitement, it was Bruce's turn to give you the Told you so look “This is the BEST day of my life” Dick finished his ramblings as you pulled up next to Bruce, with him still sitting on your hip, and proceeded to grab your husband's neck and hug you both tight. The pull made your husband laugh at the boy's sudden outburst. “My parents are the coolest people on the planet next to Superman, this is the best” the boy declared proudly, ignoring the surprised looks you and Bruce shared immediately after that.

It was the first time his parents had called you, and Dick didn't even think about it much longer, it came out of him so naturally that you two didn't say anything else either. You were mom after that and Bruce was dad, as if the boy had forgotten how to say his name from one moment to the next. And he did it with the greatest happiness in the world.

That night, after Bruce went out on patrol, and you dragged a still very excited Dick to bed, as you tucked him into bed, tucking the covers over him, your son's face suddenly scrunched up at a particular thought.

“What's up, Dikie?” you asked, as you ran your hand over her forehead, concerned at the sudden change in expression.

“Weren't Batman and the Scarlet Witch supposed to hate each other?” he asked you confused, looking down with his head tilted from his pillow.

You laughed, relieved and amused by the question.

“That, my boy, is a story for another day”

And that was it.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞´𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

Summary: In the 1950s, the Wayne family arrives at their new home on the outskirts of Gotham City, as the family's settle in, the children, Dick and Jason, seek adventure and cause trouble while their mother tries to keep the house standing for the visit of a special guests and also trying to hide her magical abilities. Can they get through the first day of their new life while the father of the family is away on business?

Character: Bruce Wayne x ScarletWitch!Reader; Jason Todd x Batmom!Reader; Dick Grayson x Batmom!Reader; Tim Drake x Batmom!Reader; Alfred Pennyworth x Batmom!Reader.

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬: 1 (you are there) - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - more coming soon

English is not my first language, please be patient.

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

You looked at your youngest son, Jason, smiling at you from under one of the trees in the new property your family just moved into, you smiled back at him genuinely happy and held out your arms at him, the little five-year-old ran to you immediately. That tree, you had to get him away from that tree.

“Mom, this new house is huge” the boy said happily as you rested him on your hip without fear of ruining the neatness of your ironing.

“It is” you started “Your father and I learned our lesson about you and your brother's incompatibility with small yards after the the Halloween fire incident” you explain and the audience laughed at the past antics of the Wayne children. Jason smiled innocently as he thought about the incident even if he didn't remember it, he had been very young at the time, surely that was why “So he made sure there was plenty of room for both of you to run around in this new house” You turned on your spot, starting to walk towards the house where you both appeared walking in through the kitchen door immediately. You walked over to the island and sat Jason there, he immediately reached over to grab the glass cookie jar in the center of the surface to eat one of Alfred's famous cookies.

“Don't eat too many of those, young Master” the butler appeared from an unidentified door, you smiled at him as he came to stand next to you in front of little Jason “Tonight we have guests and i'm preparing some of the family favorite dishes” commented the man while confiscates the cookie jar, leaving only the one cookie the boy had managed to grab before his appearance for him to eat. You frowned in confusion.

“Guests?” you ask somewhat confused, you didn't remember having planned that. Alfred turned on his way to hide the cookies to look at you.

“The guests Mr. Wayne asked us to entertain in his absence, Mrs. Wayne, you remember?” questioned the butler before leaving without waiting for an answer through the door that led to the living room. You stood in place, bringing your hand dramatically up to your face to make a thoughtful face and Jason decided to interrupt his eating to mimic your face, the audience laughing and sighing tenderly at that. Seeing him you laughed too and leaned closer to your child.

“Do you remember which guests Alfred is talking about, my boy?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nope” Jason replied sweetly, shrugging his shoulders, causing more tenderness to the audience. You couldn't help but have a sudden urge to hug your beautiful baby tightly while kissing his cheek and your son just laughed happily at your actions.

Alfred walked back into the kitchen as you lowered the boy from the counter to stand on the floor next to you, blinding the audience for a second before they saw the little boy run out of the kitchen with his cookie in hand, brushing past the butler causing him a smile.

“I guess we have to prepare for those guests then” you said as you rested your arms on your hips and sighed dramatically “Do you already know what you will cook for our guests, Alf?” you asked, intending to help.

“Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Wayne” the butler commented, walking towards you and standing behind you, to start pushing you towards the door where Jason had disappeared with his cookie “I will take care of everything and nothing will go wrong tonight. You just relax and spend some time chilling out with young master Jason” When you were at the door Alfred stopped pushing at it, expecting you to make it the rest of the way out of the kitchen on your own, but you turned and insisted.

“You don't want magical help?. It will be easier that way, besides, I already have the apron on” you commented smiling pointing at your outfit while making a gesture to mimic your powers.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne” Alfred said as he pushed you out the kitchen door.

You were pushed out the door, but on your way through you didn't stumble, but instead walked calmly through the doorway into an unmarked hallway, entering the living room. You looked back confused by the strange change, but all doubts were erased from your mind when you saw your little one sitting in front of the television in one of the couches. You sighed loudly.

“That man has always been very territorial with his kitchen” you commented and the audience laughed, walking towards the couche and Jason looked at you when he heard you approach “Jason Peter Wayne” you exclaimed without any aggression, more amused by the chocolaty disaster that was your son's face that angry and he looked at you with puppy dog eyes in response “My son and his precious chocolate chip cookies” you commented accusingly, with a dramatic movement of both hands Jason's face was clean again, the crumbs on his lap and the couch disappeared and all accompanied by a sound of bells to represent your magic.

“My mother and her magical magic” commented the boy mischievously, the audience laughed again at that while you shook your head at his behavior while looking lovingly at him. You'd missed him, which was weird because you didn't remember being separated from him much since he'd come to you.

“Jason, honey” you started realizing that something is missing in the scene “Do you have any idea where your brother is?” you asked suddenly worried about the fate of your eldest son.

“I saw him looking for his comics a while ago” Jason replied and at that moment there was a knock, followed by a child's cry. Alfred appeared down the hall, drawn by the noise, while you quickly marched to the threshold on the other side of the room, leaving Jason with the butler behind.

You appeared in a kind of entrance hall, with the main door of the house, some decorative furniture, a coat rack where there were four coats perfectly hung. One for each family member, the largest being Bruce. Bruce, he was away on business. On the other side of the threshold was a huge staircase that led to the second floor, on which you found your eldest son, his comic abandoned at the foot of the last step and he was crouched with a bleeding knee a little higher.

“Dikie, my dear” you quickly approached him, crouching down in front of him while you examined his wound "What happened?" questions while sitting next to him to hug him against your side, seeing that his crying did not stop with your presence, but he did not answer immediately, he kept sobbing “Alfred!” you called, not too loud because it was not necessary and it worked. Immediately Alfred crossed the threshold through which you just came “Bring the first aid case” you told him and he nodded before disappearing again.

While all this was happening Dick's mind was going a thousand miles an hour. He don't understand the world around him, its size, and its lack of colors. Why had he been running up the stairs in the first place?. He couldn't remember and that scared him. Contradictory ideas of what had happened crossed in his mind, until he finally saw the comic lying at the foot of the stairs and it occurred to him.

“I-I found my-i com-mic and” he began to say between sobs, but was not able to finish putting together the facts of the day, and realizing that you decided to finish the job for him, at the same time that you caressed his hair with affection.

“And so much excitement in one day made you decide to run down the stairs?” you asked and the boy pulled away from you to nod as he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his extremely expensive wool sweater.

“My knee hurts” he commented with a fine voice looking where his hand was, which was where he supposed there must be a wound and as if he had been called by his words Alfred appeared with a small medicine briefcase.

“Here you are, Mrs. Wayne" he said as he handed her the object to you, which was sure to be red but it wasn't.

"Let's see what we have here" you said and as you opened it you found just what was needed, a bandage with drawings of birds "Perfect" you said smiling as you left the suitcase now empty to proceed to put the bandage on the wound. Dick didn't see blood or a wound at all, his mother wouldn't let him get hurt, but still, he went along with the plot and looked at his mother.

You were beautiful. He had always thought you were the prettiest mother in the world along with… with another person, his father couldn't agree more, and if he saw you now he would probably drool, to which he and Jason made fun of him. Jason, his little brother.

What had happened to Jason?

And as if Dick's though was an alarm, the little boy with curly hair and a cheerful smile entered through the same doorway Alfred had come through, looking at his brother with a worried expression. A sudden wave of relief washed over Dick, because Jason was there, safe and sound, walking quickly towards him when he saw that his older brother was distraught. But it was strange to see him like that, so young, to the point that for a moment he wondered if it was really Jason, but looking into his eyes it was unmistakable that this five-year-old boy was his younger brother. There was no doubt.

"Are you feeling better, Dikie?" you asked affectionately when you noticed how your older son's body relaxed when his younger brother appeared in the room, and you mentally fooled yourself for not having brought him earlier, surely Dick had been worried that his brother was fine. You caressed his back as you looked at him carefully.

"I.." Dick was silent for a moment, he looked at you and then at his little brother, then he realized something "I'm fine. Everything is fine, mom" finally he said looking at you, feeling completely comfortable to be there and happier than he had been in a lot of time.

You smiled at your son when you realized that the three of you were finally together, with Alfred looking at from the doorway with a mixture of emotions that he didn't let you see.

Dinner was underway, Alfred as always was on time for the arrival of the guests, while you were in Jason's room, helping him to finish putting on his elegant sweater for the occasion. Dick came through the door already fully dressed, the eight-year-old boy didn't need your help getting dressed, but no doubt you had helped him choose the clothes, that's how you always did.

“Mom” Dick called while in his brother's room, somewhat confused by the situation but not letting that feeling of relief and heady calm go. He liked that feeling.

“Yes honey?” you turned around causing the new dress you had put on for the occasion to flourish in the air with elegance, as soon as you laid eyes on your eldest son you had to contain a small aww at how cute your little man looked “Look at you, my little bird” You approached him, bending down to adjust his jacket so he hid the suspenders, leaving only a little of the shirt to be seen. “One day you are going to be a heartbreaker” you commented, wrinkling your nose with tenderness.

“Mom” Dick grumbled sheepishly, looking down as his cheeks turned pink, though no one could see the color yet.

“Is Dick going to be a jar breaker?” Jason asked from where he was sitting on the bed, causing the audience to laugh.

"No, Jaybird," Dick began, turning away from his mother and walking over to his brother's bed to sit next to him on the bed "Heartbreaker, as in hearts," he explained patiently as Jason watched him intently, hanging on every word his older brother said to him. It reminded Dick of when he was looking at him while they both used to... they used to...

"That means" you sat across from Jason, watching as your son left his place inside his mind to return to the moment "that your brother will have a lot of girlfriends and boyfriends one day" you explained to him while you arranged a rebellious strand that fell on the forehead of your youngest son, putting it back in his place.

"That is good?" he asked confused "Because Alfred always gets mad when we break his jars." The innocent tone caused the audience, you and Dick to laugh. As they did, Dick remembered why he had gone to find his mom in the first place.

"Mother?" he asked, you stopped laughing and gave him that look you always give him when you want to say tell me anything, you can tell me anything and ask any question without fear "What's so important today?" he asked curiously.

"Oh" exclamation as you put your hands on your lap thinking what to say because the truth is you weren't very sure what tonight's dinner was about "Well, it's a very important dinner for your father" you commented with confidence.

"Why is this dinner important to Dad?" Jason asked, now concentrating on the reason for the conversation, because he wanted to know too. He puzzled you by the question too, because you weren't too sure either.

"Well, your father invited some very important people to dinner" you stated as confidently as you could, if you showed that you didn't know what was going on your children panicked and you wanted them to feel safe. They were safe, they were safe as long as they were there with you.

"Who are the guests?" Jason asked, immediately followed by his older brother.

“And why are they so important?” Dick spoke, Jason nodded at his brother's question, showing his approval.

“Well…” you weren't sure what to say.

“Is it for a birthday?” Jay asked.

“No, it's not anyone's birthday” you clarified, more to yourself than to the children, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle before explaining to your children the importance of the occasion.

“Is it an anniversary?” Dick asked now.

“No, it's not that either” you put your hand to your chin while you thought. The audience laughed.

“A holiday?” the elder asked again.

“Is it because of the «adult business» ?” Jason asked disappointed, he hated the adult business meetings they had when Bruce was home, and immediately a light went on in his head.

“Yes” is happily soothing, looking back at the children “It's certainly a business meeting, so you must behave yourself” you bend down and finish arranging your youngest son's hair “Okay?” You looked at them seriously, your children had a habit of getting into trouble when these meetings happen, mainly because they were bored.

“Yes, mom” they both said in chorus, which caused a smile on your face.

“Okay” you finished the conversation about dinner “Dick, can you help your brother put on his shoes while I go to prepare the table for our guests?” questions and the boy silently nodded in response “Perfect, I'll see you when you're ready” you said as you left the room.

Dick and Jason stood there in silence for a moment. Dick wasn't sure what to do, first because he didn't know where you kept Jason's shoes and second because he felt lost without you there, because you were the main story of the show, so he wasn't sure what was next. Jason was the one who will be in charge of guiding him quickly.

“Dick” called the younger brother.

“Yes, Jason?” asked Dick somewhat confused by the mischievous gleam in his little brother's eyes.

“I saw Alfred go with the cookie jar back to the kitchen to hide it” he began as a smile spread across his face, Dick smiled back as he nodded at the silent implication of that phrase. He now knew what they must do.

In the dining room, a room with a large window facing the patio with a table with eight chairs, you used your magic to make the plates fly to the table, followed by the utensils and the wine glasses. You are preparing only five places at the table, because Alfred had insisted on not being part of the dinner tonight so that he could attend to the important guests in the best possible way, and you were not one to argue against the butler's wishes.

You have barely convinced him to let you set the table for dinner. He was very adamant that you should spend time with your kids for some reason, probably just wanted him to rest from the stressful move. Yes, it was probably just that.

DING DONG

“The guests are here” you said to yourself, making sure to place the last flowers in the vase on the head table, they were white roses, and then smoothed down the front of your dress before walking into the room.

You were nervous because you still didn't know who these guests were and what they wanted, but you were confident that if Bruce had sent them it would be fine, so you smiled as you entered the entrance hall to receive the couple. It was a fleshy white-haired couple, in their fifties, but they seemed to be in good shape and particularly the woman looked like she had a lot of energy, her print dress helped her image. The man seemed serious, like all businessmen, he didn't even smile when you greeted him and invited them to sit in the living room while dinner finished preparing.

“It's a pleasure to have you here, Mr. and Mrs...” you stopped in your sentence when you realized that you didn't know the names of your guests.

“Mr. Hart and I are very happy to be the first guest in be invited to the new home, Mrs. Wayne” Mrs. Hart replied as everyone sat on the couch.

“Where is Mr. Wayne?” Mr. Hart asked seriously “You can't have a business dinner if the businessman isn't in the house” he complained, waving his arms around, showing the room. You laughed nervously at his insistence, he wasn't the first person that day to ask where Bruce was and make you uncomfortable for some reason.

“Well, my beloved husband had a last-minute business trip” you started explaining “But he left me and our children in charge to receive you for dinner” you said smiling, trying not to show your lack of certainty about the totality of the situation.

“Oh, the Wayne kids” Mrs. Hart exclaimed dreamily “I'm so excited to meet you” she took your hands and squeezed them comfortingly.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Alfred had gone to the dining room to set up the table with the appetizers, leaving the place unattended where two small pairs of feet entered without making much noise with a precise aim. Cause trouble.

“I adore children, even though Mr. Hart and I never had our own” the woman explained wistfully, looking at her husband who instead of sharing his story was looking around with a frown, but she paid no attention to him and continued talking to you.

In the kitchen, Dick was helping his younger brother up onto the counter next to the stove, where a pot of hot soup was ready to be served. Once Jason was firmly on his feet he quickly took it upon himself to climb up as well to stand next to him and they began opening the cabinets for the cookies.

“Tell me: What are their names? And how old are they?” Mrs. Hart ask excited about the topic of conversation.

“My oldest son is Richard, but everyone calls him Dick” you started posting.

“Children can be cruel” Mr. Hart commented candidly, and the audience laughed. The joke took you by surprise but you decided to ignore it and continue.

“He's eight years old, he'll be nine in December” we continued talking “And Jason, he'll be six in August” you finished with a smile thinking about how your youngest son would be another year older.

Dick opened one of the walkers on the stove, stood on tiptoe as he maneuvered the cabinet door open, and peered inside for the cookie jar, but began to lose his balance just as Alfred set the appetizers down. ready on the table and started on his way to the living room to announce that dinner was ready.

“They sound adorable, I can't wait to meet them” Mrs. Hart enthused.

"They are adorable and they are very good kids too" you said with a bright smile.

BAAM.

Dick ended up losing his balance while trying to close the cupboard door again and the pot of soup crashed to the floor, staining the entire kitchen with its creamy texture, including your two children who are now covered in food ruining their clothes and staining their faces.

“Mrs. Wayne” Alfred called, successfully hiding his concern, which you couldn't do very well because at the sound your eyes widened at the multiple scenarios running through your head as to what could have caused the noise.

“Yes, Alfred” answered with a small voice.

“What was that?” Mr. Hart asked irritably.

“I think it's time to guide our guests to the table and go find the young masters” he commented calmly to which you quickly jumped out of the chair.

“YES” you yelled “Great idea, Alfred” you turned to the guest couple who looked more than confused “Mr. and Mrs. Hart, follow Alfred into the dining room and enjoy the appetizers while I go find the kids who I'm sure are somewhere in the house on their best behavior,” you said and the audience laughed.

“Everything is alright?” Mrs. Hart asked as you left the room.

“Yes, yes, everything is in order, nothing to worry about” you answered a little too quickly before running away from the room.

Jason and Dick looked at each other knowing that nothing good could come of this, but when they tried to go down, the younger one slipped on the soup that stained the counter under his feet, Dick rushed to try to catch him but he also slipped on the ground. As both children fell, all their weight rested on the refrigerator, which in turn fell sideways to hit a piece of furniture that fell forward and pushed another piece of furniture full of fine china that fell sideways, locking the door and letting everything plates and glasses crash to the floor causing even more noise.

CRASH

You leaned your whole body against the door as you reached the door, only to find that it wouldn't open in the slightest, something was blocking it.

“Boys?” you called through the door “Boys, are you there?” you asked.

“Here we are, mom, and we're fine” said Dick from his place still on the counter, they couldn't go down now the floor is not only slippery but also full of sharp glass. He wouldn't risk Jason getting hurt.

“We tried Alfred's soup” Jason said “It's delicious” the audience laughed but you were anything but amused by the situation.

“Oh Dear” you sighed. visualizing your children covered in soup at a less than an opportune moment “Why can't I open the door?” you tried to push but whatever was blocking your way was too heavy for you.

“A large piece of furniture fell in front of the door and the floor is full of glass, we can't get close” Dick explained regretfully, they didn't want to cause such a mess, they just wanted the cookies and they hadn't even found them.

“What happened?” Alfred asked coming to your side.

“A piece of furniture is blocking the door, the soup is on the floor and the crockery has now turned into very expensive confetti” you quickly explained, turning to look at him.

“Okay, Mrs. Wayne, it's time to use your magic and solve this problem” he said.

“But you don't like magic being used in your kitchen” you replied confused.

“Considering that the crockery has been smashed, the soup used as a rug, and the young masters are still trapped in there, if we don't open the door right now there probably won't be any kitchen to take care of tomorrow, Mrs. Wayne” he explained quickly and couldn't have more sense to you.

“Good point” you said, the audience laughed as you got into position to use your magic, but when you moved your hands nothing happened, you try again and nothing happened “It doesn't work” you repeated the movement in a desperate attempt but again it didn't happen nothing “What's going on!?” you asked desperately

“I told you to rest today, Mrs. Wayne, it's probably the stress” Alfred said quickly, consoling you.

“Oh, this is not good” you said.

“Ms. Wayne?” Mrs. Hart yelled from the dining room.

“Just a second” you replied with a fake cheerful tone before looking back at the butler “What are we going to do?” questions.

“Don't worry, I'll look for the keys to the door that leads to the patio while you distract the guests” Alfred said and walked in the opposite direction, you went to follow him but you realized that you had to go the other way and you turned to walk to the dining room. The audience laughed.

In the living room you sat at the table with the guests, starting to eat the appetizers, they tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but Mr. Hart was suspicious and it was clear by the way he looked at you, but his wife was more than happy to ignore it.

" “And tb children?” Mrs. Hart asked as she bit into one of her meatloaf pies.

“Oh, they're finishing up their toys before they eat” you explained as we finished pouring some wine into your glass.

“But you should eat first” said Mrs. Hart sweetly.

“Nonsense, my dear” interrupted Mr. Hart “Two children with a father not present on business, these two need a steady hand or they will become good for nothing. It's fair, they don't order their toys they don't eat” from him he stuffed a whole canape into his mouth roughly.

“I wouldn't say they don't eat” you defended “But if you have to order before eating because they definitely won't do it later, they always get sleepy” you finished explaining and drank your glass of wine “Also, most of the time are very well behaved children of time” you finished.

“Most of the time?” questioned Mr. Hart suddenly.

Alfred entered the room quietly, he passed behind you giving you a meaningful look: you had to keep distracting the Harts because he still hadn't found the key.

“Well, they are children, you know how they are” you commented laughing, but the serious face of Mr. Harte told you that the man did not enjoy jokes much, so you left that “All children have their moments of curiosity” Alfred walked out of the room back into the hallway “And that curiosity can get to-” BAMM-CRASH, the butler had to use force to pry open a particularly jammed drawer “Accidents, something always ends up breaking” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Ms. Wayne” Alfred called as he stood in the doorway.

“Yes Alfred?” you yelled, unable to stop looking at Mr. Hart who was looking at you suspiciously.

“The young masters want you to confirm that their toys are tidy and that they are free to sit down to dinner” he said neutrally but I knew right away what he meant.

“Of course, you have to see those toys” she joked as she got up from the table.

“Make sure it's neatly arranged in alphabetical order” demands Mr. Hart and you couldn't help but give him a look for it.

“Don't talk nonsense” his wife told him “Go find them” he told you happily “I can't wait to meet those little angels” he encouraged you.

“I'll do that” you answered with the same enthusiasm and walked down the hall with Alfred until you reached the kitchen door.

“The keys to the patio door are nowhere to be found” he began to explain “And I'm afraid the cabinet is too stuck in front of the door to try to push it”.

“Oh Dear, oh Dear” you started to babble.

“Mrs. Wayne, you need to calm down” Alfred requested.

“The children are locked in the kitchen, along with the food, and our guests are waiting in the dining room” you pointed out “I think it's a good time for a little panic, Alfred”

“Panic is not going to get us out of this situation” Alfred pointed out, which caught your attention and you looked at him, but the man ignored him “Getting the children out requires us to be focused” he clarified and you decided to ignore his mistake, it wasn't that serious.

“Maybe one of the windows” you pointed out hopefully.

“No, they were all closed” he said.

“Mrs. Wayne!!” you heard Mrs. Hart as she got up from her chair and walked toward you in a suitably slow manner.

“Oh no” you groaned in anguish “We need an entrance, an entrance, an entrance to the kitchen” and as if they were connected, you and Alfred looked at each other as the solution came to your mind.

“The Unidentified Door!!” you two yelled and started running.

As they rounded the corner at the end of the hall they suddenly found themselves walking through the unmarked door into the kitchen, which Alfred had appeared through that morning, just like that. You still didn't know what the point of the door was but you were thankful for it because Mrs. Hart was coming to the door.

“Ms. Wayne” called the woman, dangerously close to the door, you ran to the opposite side of the covered door and approached your children “Where are they?” It was almost in front of the door, so you made a quick movement with your hands: the soup disappeared from the floor and returned to its place in the pot, the children's clothes were cleaned as well as their faces, the floor, and both furniture fell back into place at the same time that glass returned to the expensive crockery that Bruce had inherited from his parents. Mrs. Hart came through the door at that moment to find you carrying your youngest son on your hip, Dick sitting innocently on the island, and Alfred stirring the soup “Here you are” she exclaimed.

“Here we are” you said smiling, you lowered Jason from your hip and grabbed his hand “Alfred” the man looked at you “It's time to serve the main course to our guests” you pointed out, both shared a knowing look before he answered.

“Right away, Mrs. Wayne” Alfred answered calmly.

At the dining room table, the end of the table was left empty, because it was Bruce's place, while you, Dick, and Jason sat on one side, in that order, in front of you the invited couple left, with Mr. Hart sat down opposite you.

“Well” Mrs. Hart said as she put her napkin on her lap, Alfred poured juice for the children. “Where do you come from? How long have you and Mr. Wayne been married? And do you plan to have more children?” the woman asked as she began to taste the soup, hitting you with her questions so closely followed by hers.

“Oh” you laughed “Bruce and I have been together for so long it feels like we've always been this way” you erased “And we come from…” you were at a loss “We come from…” you didn't know.

“We come from another city” said Dick “From...” he was cut off bewildered, but he quickly looked at you for help, surely you knew “What was the name of the city, mom?” he asked you curious.

“The city, of course" you commented trying to start your sentence again "We come from..." again you had nothing, that made no sense.

“AND?” asked Mr. Hart frustrated, you looked at him and tried to smile to appear normal but you quickly lost it and he noticed.

“Let them think, dear, they are putting together their story” defended Mrs. Hart smiled sweetly as Alfred poured him more wine, at that moment you looked at him, but he didn't look at you, he was suddenly serious with a lost look as he poured his glass, he was tense.

“Our story, yes, of course” you continued again trying to get back to the thread of the plot “We come from, from a city, from...” you failed again.

“Where from?” asked Mr. Hart flustered.

“Arthur, leave the poor woman alone” Mrs. Hart scolded him, eating quickly, with a sweet tone but in her posture, there was something else, she was not calm or happy as she wanted to seem.

“Why?” her husband defended himself “It's a perfectly normal and simple question: Where do they come from?” the table fell silent, for a few seconds no one moved and didn't make a sound “Damn it. Where does it come from?” He slammed the table roughly, making the plates jump, Dick looked at him, he could hear the anger in his voice and even fear, but he didn't understand why “What do you want? What do you want-” his words were cut off, as was his breath, you watched him intently as he brought his hands to his throat, he was choking.

“Oh, Arthur, stop it” his wife commented naturally, her tone didn't leave the cheerful and casual naturalness it had had until now, but Arthur Hart kept choking and nobody made a move, not even you, only Jason kept eating his soup. Your eldest son looked at the guest confused. Dick felt that he should do something, but he shouldn't at the same time “Stop it” Mrs. Hart repeated “Stop it, stop it, stop it” Mrs. Hart stopped looking at her husband when he fell to the ground, very close to the feet of Alfred who looked at the situation without leaving his place with the wine jug in hand. You looked at him and he looked at you this time, he seemed worried, even anguished and fearful “Stop it” Mrs. Harte looked at you this time, she was talking to you “Stop it” she repeated.

“Mom” Dick called worriedly when he saw that the guest's pleas were directed at you now, he grabbed your hand on the table to try to get your attention but he kept looking between Mrs. Hart and the drowning man on the floor.

“Mrs. Wayne” this time it was Alfred who called you “Mrs. Wayne” was a silent request.

“Please, stop it” continued Mrs. Hart, a buzzing invades your ears, suddenly two unknown voices filled your ears, what they were talking about was inescapable, but they were close because their minds were close.

“Ms. Wayne” Alfred calls you with more urgency.

“Mama” called Dick, shaking your hand at the same time, but the voices had your full attention, you want to know who they were and what they were up to.

“Mommy” suddenly the voices were forgotten, Dick and Mrs.Hart fell silent, you looked at your youngest son, who was looking at you confused by the situation and you immediately reacted to it.

“Alfred, help him” you said seriously, the butler quickly putting down the wine pitcher and proceeding to help the man to the ground, quickly getting him to spit out the piece of meat that had been stuck in his airway. Mr. Hart gasped for air as he started to try to get up quickly, in a hurry, Alfred quickly helped him to his feet.

“Careful, Mr.” he said to him as they both finished standing in their places.

Mr. Hart finished standing up and ran his hands over his jacket, lost for a second and not knowing he was following, but quickly found the watch on his wrist and looked at it.

“Look at the time” he said matter-of-factly “We'd better not head home” he pointed and smiled, suddenly becoming more likable than he had been all through dinner.

“You're right, dear” Mrs. Hart agreed in her well-pitched sing-song tone “It was a pleasure meeting you all” the woman commented as you and your children stood up from their places, she approached you friendly and you took a few steps to meet her halfway “Your children are adorable, Mrs. Wayne and your house is a charm” she sentenced before giving you an impromptu hug, but you answered.

“Tell Mr. Wayne I can't wait to do business with him” said Mr. Hart smiling as you were separated from his wife, and walked over to shake his hand “And you two behave young men” he motioned to your sons as they both stood beside you, you ran your hand through your youngest son's hair to make sure he was there, and Dick leans against your side with his head leaning on your hip “Your mother of hers is a unique woman and there is nothing she wouldn't do for you, appreciate her” he told them honestly, which brought a smile to your face, you looked down to meet Dick's unsure eyes, you patted his back quickly to reassure him.

“Yes, Mr. Hart” Jason said as his older brother decided to speak.

“We'll take care of her, always” Dick accompanied.

“I'll walk you out” Alfred said smiling, happy that everything had turned out well.

You and your children went to the living room, ready to watch some television before going to sleep.

“Well, that was a venture without a doubt” you commented while sitting in the middle of the couch.

“It was to be expected when your family is like ours” Dick mocked, smiling at you in complicity, while he sat next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Next time, Alfred should serve ice cream for dinner” Jason pointed out “Everyone loves ice cream” he explained when you looked at him, to which you and your oldest son laughed along with the audience. Jason settled with his head in your lap, to which you put your hand in his hair to caress it, as he liked it so much and Dick wrapped his arms around your waist, you put your arm around his shoulders to hug him closer to you...

“After that disaster, I need a drink” Alfred commented entering the room and sitting in one of the individual armchairs “Although it could be compensated with a raise” he joked, they all laughed again together.

“What can I say” you looked at Jason, seeing how his eyes were slowly closing in sleep “We're a bit of a peculiar family” you stated.

“Just a bit?” Dick mocked again, you kissed his head as the lights dimmed and the credits began to roll, the show ending with the image of your beautiful family sitting in the living room.

Seeing that image, Bruce couldn't help but notice that it was the happiest thing he had seen you in over seven months...

My favorite series now❤

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬 (Batfam x Batmom!Reader)

ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ ᴏʀ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ. ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ɪɴꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇ, ɪ'ᴍ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ɪᴛ, ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘʀɪꜱᴏɴᴇʀꜱ. ʙɪᴛᴄʜ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴜᴘ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ 'ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ'ᴍ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪᴛ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴜꜱ, ᴀʟʟ. ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ — All For Us by Labrithn and Zendaya.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The tragic death of Jason Todd seemed to be a point of no return for the Wayne family. Six months later, when things seemed to be starting to settle for the marriage, Tim Drake appears at the mansion with the intention of being the new Robin and when Bruce sees y/n does not agree.

The memory of her youngest son still haunts her like a ghost, walking the halls of Wayne Manor only to be reminded of her betrayal and how the life of another boy was doomed to for her lack of will.

When Tim is wounded on a patrol, something breaks within the Wayne matriarch and the magic that had accompanied her through her worst moments without once getting out of control gives her a gift, one that will become a nightmare she doesn't want to go out.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬): Bruce Wayne x ScarletWitch!Reader; Jason Todd x Batmom!Reader; Dick Grayson x Batmom!Reader; Tim Drake x Batmom!Reader.

English is not my first language, please be patient.

The Tag List for this history is OPEN.

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑(𝐒):

1. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞´𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞: In the 1950s, the Wayne family arrives at their new home on the outskirts of Gotham City, as the family's settle in, the children: Dick and Jason, seek adventure and cause trouble while their mother tries to keep the house standing for the visit of a special guests while also trying to hide her magical abilities. Can they get through the first day of their new life while the father of the family is away on business?

02/15/2022

2. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥: Now in the 1960s, the Wayne home is peaceful until sudden sounds start to shake the peace of the residents as they prepare for the town's annual Housewives' Parade and the Children's Talent Contest. Dick begins to get curious about the new town where the family lives, and a series of events leads Dick to ask himself some very strange questions and to see something he didn't even know existed. Is it a good idea to follow his instincts away from the safety of his mother's Magic?.

02/19/2022

3. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫: The 70's and color TV come to the Wayne house, at the same time that our Scarlet Witch has to learn to deal with an overly curious teenager and constant outside interference.  The tension of reality within the home begins to accumulate and the discovery of how deep the interference is may leave irreparable consequences on the stability of the small family.

02/26/2022

4. 𝐖𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮: After Alfred Pennyworth is freed from the Wayne Manor anomaly, he begins to get some perspective on what happened and explains that maybe the only person who can stop it all is the one who created it.  In the Batcave, trapped within the confines of the anomaly, Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake begin to understand more of what they're up against, as they tune in to The Wayne's Show every moment of the day in the hope that they can finally be a part of it again.

03/15/2022

5. 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰: In the late 1980s and early 1990s as they prepare for the eldest child's departure for college, the family finds themselves living for the first time without their beloved butler who has been forced to take time out due to an illness. family emergency.  The only problem is that Dick mistrusting to every word I'm saying...

05/11/2022

6. 𝐀 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥: With the new additions to the cast, in the early 2000s, the Waynes throw a Halloween party to spend some time as a family after so much time apart. But it seems that his father's presence has not calmed the need for children to cause trouble, only this time everything will get out of control. The question remains and grows in everyone's mind: What's outside Wayne Manor's property?.

(coming soon)

𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐈𝐈)

previous • next

"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)

wc: 3249

She’d heard something before she fell asleep, but she couldn’t decipher the words. y/n knew it was something important, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what. Contemplation tired her mind enough to grant her sleep for a few minutes before the tension in the air awoke her. Peeking from her closed eyelids so as to not alert the boys near her, y/n saw how Harvey occasionally threw a pointed glare at a stoic Bruce. The two had initially remained quiet, but it seemed they were itching for a fight. 

After a small glance at the uneasy scene, she attempted to rest again, but just as she had begun to return to her slumber, a voice began, “What’s your problem?”

Though she kept her lids shut now, y/n could tell that the sound originated from the back where Bruce sat. She had to stop from rolling her eyes, as she realized he was quoting her exact words from earlier. Typical rich kids, always taking. 

Harvey, pounced at the chance to squabble as he replied, “You.”

“I need you to elaborate there, buddy. Lots of people have a problem with me for lots of reasons.”

“Buddy?” Harvey let out a bittersweet chuckle, his voice laced with a hint of disgust at the nickname. “Do you even remember who I am?”

“Harvey Dent, son of Harvey Dent Senior. You’re dad’s a politician and you wanna follow in his footsteps. Now, your turn.” Bruce spoke robotically, attempting to reciprocate Harvey’s attitude.

“You really don’t remember, huh? Should’ve guessed.”

Bruce, annoyed by Harvey’s ambiguous answers, remained mum the rest of the ride, occasionally letting out a deep sigh like an angry toddler. y/n was glad that Bruce had a taste of his own medicine, but her curiosity was also awakened by the cryptic responses Harvey had stated. She thought that this was Harvey’s way of finally opening up, giving her the green light to explore his truths after years of distance. 

When the car stopped at the gates of the Wayne manor, Bruce immediately rose to attention and swiftly exited the vehicle, as if staying any longer would have killed him. He ran through the slow-opening gates, disappearing in the fog-ridden entrance before y/n heard the engine rev to a start. 

Slowly she opened her eyes, basking in the peace she found with Harvey’s presence before revealing, “I heard everything.”

Harvey stayed silent, his eyes remaining secured to the dimly lit road ahead of him. y/n moved to place a hand on his thigh, gently so as to not startle him. She let her fingers lay there, in a comforting manner before assuring, “I know you’ve got some pent-up frustration right now, and I just want you to know, I’m here if you want to talk.” She could feel him relax under her touch, the words soothing the wounds that had re-opened previously. “I’m always here.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gotham was never quiet. The sirens always rang, especially in the dead of night. The people always shout whether it be to scream for help or bark a demand. The rain always pattered against windows, leaving the outside world to be a blurry distortion of reality. y/n found the noise to be comforting most nights because it made her feel less lonely, and it ensured that the trouble would stay where it was meant to be: outside. But now her heart beat louder than the ambiance of Gotham, louder than any concert. It beat her chest so hard that her ears ached at the sound. She tossed and turned, holding a pillow to her ears in an attempt to shut everything out, but silence was impossible to attain. 

She was angry because reality had hit her like a speeding bullet for the first time in a long time. She’d done so much, sacrificed her time, her health, and her whole being to be accepted into Gotham Academy. It was the first step in her naive grand plan to be happy. But fate is anything but kind, for however much she works, she’s destined to fall. Falcone would be the sun that burns her wax wings, or maybe it was Wilcox, the man who had set her down this perverted path. But no matter who she sought to accuse for an inevitable early death, like Icarus she had only herself to blame for wanting to reach higher than she was meant to. Her anger culminated in prickling tears rolling down her cheek uncontrollably. Her eyes red & puffy, cheeks drenched with salty water, and throat hoarse from catching her breath, y/n fell asleep, knocked unconscious by the sheer exhaustion of her overwhelmed state. 

The next morning, y/n awoke with a freshness. The tears had washed away her despondency, leaving room for a lingering courage to resurface. When dawn had struck, faint slivers of light breaking through the cloudy skies, she was already up and about. Pacing back and forth in her dorm, y/n concocted a plan of action to resolve her predicament. She would talk to Wilcox, say that their relationship had gone much farther than she was willing to go and that he needed to move forward without her. She could report him to GCPD. It wasn’t like every cop there was on someone’s payroll, there had to be someone there to help her. 

But if she reported him, he had to have known she’d go down as his accomplice. He’s got a pricey lawyer to get him out unscathed, but her? She’s got nobody to fight for her. Yet, maybe Wilcox continued pressuring her because he knew she wouldn’t stand up. It couldn’t hurt to push back, after all, nothing could have been worse than dying because of Carmine Falcone. 

After an hour of going back and forth with the myriad of ways the conversation could go, y/n never expected for Wilcox to be this vile. She made her way down to his office as soon as her mind had calmed and walked through the open doors as soon as she arrived. He was expecting her, for before her heel even landed inside the room, the man exclaimed, “y/n! How have you been?”

When y/n entered the room completely, she apprehensively muttered, “Fine.” She kept her head down, fear beginning to creep up her spine at his uncanny attitude. Never had he been this nice to her.

“Well, got what I need?”

y/n moved forward quickly, placing the wad of cash she had found the day before in front of him. His resting face morphed into a sinister smile as he brushed a hand through the notes. Looking up as he played with the bundle of money, he raised an eyebrow.

y/n’s mouth was slightly agape at the sight. She mustered the courage she had earlier in the morning, resolute in seeing through with her plan as she began, “I won’t do this anymore. I don’t know what you’ve got yourself involved with and frankly, I don’t care. I won’t ruin myself by continuing to be involved.”

“Ah…you think you’ve got a choice in the matter?” He rose from his seat, his chair screeching against the polished wooden floor as it jerked backward. Hands now placed flat against the mahogany of his desk, he bore his eyes into y/n. “You’re in more of a desperate situation than you think. I’m assuming you got the address, yes? Well, Carmine wants blood and it won’t be mine. Seeing as you’re a scholarship kid, it wouldn’t be hard to justify anything that might happen to you–”

“–I’ve got friends. What makes you think that I can’t just tell Carmine it was you?”

“Bold, I’ll give you that,” Wilcox moved around his desk and strode toward the girl dropping the smile. Face to face, he leaned down to her ear whispering, “I’ve got friends too. Friends who can take away that Harvard scholarship. Friends who can make sure you can’t escape Gotham. Friends who can make your life beyond the Academy a living hell. You’ve got no idea what you’re up against little girl.”

He stepped away, re-plastering the smile on his face, and opened the door motioning for y/n to step out. As she turned to leave y/n took a shaky breath and stopped at the exit before saying, “I won’t back down without a fight.”

She rushed out of the room, walking down the administrative building hallway with no awareness of her surroundings. She never expected the interaction to have been easy, but for it to end in this war was too much for her to handle. Who was she kidding, she didn’t have anything to fight the dean with. No dirt, no power, no advantage, nothing but a death sentence. 

As she rounded a corner, she collided with a hard surface. She stumbled backward, holding her head in her hands as a migraine developed. With a hand placed on her throbbing head, she attempted to center herself and realized she had bumped into Bruce.

“You ok?” Bruce seemed genuinely concerned as he inquired. His hand stretched toward her, brushing over her head before y/n took another step back.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Her voice was weaker than it had been before. Bruce noticed how she had sunk into herself, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks flushed. Her breaths were fairly shaky as she retreated from him. There was no point beating around the bush. Whatever he wanted to say, he needed to say it now.

“I have a proposition.” He paused for a moment, waiting for confirmation to continue. When y/n stared at him, waiting for more, he continued, “I think we’ve both bitten off more than we can chew. Some bad things are about to happen and I want to stop it. But, I can’t do it alone. I–uh” He hesitated for a moment before begrudgingly declaring, “I need your help.”

“Care to elaborate? Mr. I’m Above Everything and Everyone wants to play hero? What’s really in it for you and why do you want my help?” She waited for Bruce to respond, yet he remained silent. “Ok. I’m not risking my life for you. I’m not stupid. If you want a scapegoat, ask one of your many admirers.” 

She was about to stomp off, beyond pissed that people only viewed her as a tool. Bruce, mindful of the apparent anger brewing within y/n, grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to face him. “I can save you from Falcone if you do this for me. Better yet, I can make sure you’re untouched by everyone in this city.”

Had he heard her conversation with Wilcox? Questions swirled in her already preoccupied mind, but y/n brushed them off. It didn’t matter how much he knew, what mattered was the tempting offer he just proposed. This was her way out, a solution for all her hardship. To have no anchors holding her down opened a world of possibility, but an offer like that was too true for her to believe. He wouldn’t hand over such power without a price equally as revolting. She needed to know she could trust him to follow through before she signed her life away to the devil.

“How do I know you won’t leave me high and dry? I do your dirty work and take the fall while you reap the glory.”

“You don’t.” Great, just the answer she needed. He really played the role of an asshole quite passionately. 

Rolling her eyes, she shook his hands off her wrist and marched toward the library for some peace. She texted Harvey on the way, hoping to make up for ditching him yesterday by meeting with him. It was routine at this point, for her to randomly disappear at a moment’s notice and make up for it later. y/n knew that Harvey was suspicious of it, but being him, he never openly questioned her. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey, missed me?” y/n greeted Harvey as she approached him from behind. He chuckled as he turned to watch her approach him. He gestured to the empty seat beside him, even dragging out the chair with one arm. He beamed with excitement at how gracefully she sat down, forgetting the homework he was engaged in to simply admire her. He could smell her perfume, relishing in its sweet and savory scent. But, he could also smell a hint of antiseptic. He was about to brush it off before his eyes trailed to the hand that was not resting on the table. y/n had a bandage wrapped around her wrist. 

“Not like it's your first time bailing on me, but regardless, I did,” Harvey replied. Before y/n had an opportunity to speak again, he pointed at the bandage asking, “What happened?”

y/n was at a loss for words. She didn’t want Harvey to be involved in this ever-deepening abyss of troubles, so she had to come up with a white lie. Fast. “Uh..y’know how clumsy I can be. I–I fell on it.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow, having known the girl long and well enough that she was lying. Though, seeing her sullen state he kept suppressed his urge to know the truth. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t lied to her either. She’d tell him whenever she was ready, till then, he was willing to wait. 

“So, you’re probably wondering about last night.” Harvey nodded. “Well, I went into the city. This time, I got lost, and by the time I realized I didn’t know where I was going, the sun had already gone down. Somehow Bruce found me and we ended up waiting at the bridge for a ride.” It was just vague enough to not reveal what y/n had actually been doing there, but just informative enough to not have Harvey need to question her. The perfect cover. 

“Uh-huh.” Harvey held his tongue. y/n looked visibly tired and he didn’t have the heart to push her any further, no matter how suspicious she was being. 

She moved her hands over his, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. Harvey’s cheeks reddened as he observed her movements, holding back the desire to lean closer to her until they touched. Just as she had done, he wanted to embrace her. Not just her fingers, her whole being. He wanted to comfort her, be her knight in shining armor. The more he looked into her eyes, the more he saw a reflection of what could be. But her touch brought him back to reality as she squeezed his hands in a comforting motion. 

“And you? What happened between you and Bruce?” She stared at him. When she was met with silence, she began to withdraw herself establishing, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s alright.”

Before she could fully retract her hands from his, he interlaced his fingers with hers, pulling her even closer than she was before. “No, no, I want to tell you y/n. It's just…hard to talk about.”

Harvey took in a few deep breaths before starting, “Here goes. Before I came to the Academy, I didn’t live the same way I do now. I–My father was an alcoholic. My mother’s death was something he always seemed to dwell on and the anger that came from it was taken out on his health and me. He had a thing. He would flip a coin to decide whether he should…hurt me or not. One day I just couldn’t take the beatings anymore and I trapped him in his room for a few days. I know what I did was wrong, and nothing excuses that, but I don’t regret it. When the police finally freed my father, he got so mad he sent me the the Arkham Boys Rehabilitation Home upstate. 

“That’s when I met, rather, befriended Bruce. We shared a similar drive fueled by hatred. We became good friends and even made a pact of sorts. Someday we’d kill each other’s enemy–I’d kill Joe Chill, the man who murdered Bruce’s parents, and he’d kill my father. Then a while later, when I went home, my fath–dad, he turned over a new leaf. Even reminting the bastard coin that he’d used to determine my fate so that it would have only two heads. It was meant to be a symbol of how his only side, from then on, would be his good side. He stayed true to his words since then and I truly believe that he’s become a better man. Bruce though, he doesn’t believe in second chances. When I backed out of our ‘pact’ he thought I was being naive. He was truly angry, and he took out that fury by ignoring me. And even though he doesn’t seem to remember it, I still believe that the monster is still inside of him. The one fueling the bitter, cold heart he has now. It’s dangerous, and I don’t want you involved with that. Please y/n, I want you to be safe.”

y/n lifted her hands from his, dragged her chair until it touched his, and hugged him. In her embrace, he felt soothed allowing a tear to slip from his eyes.“Thank you, for trusting me. I’m happy for you Harv, I’m glad you got your happy ending.”

y/n patted her hand on his back, caressing him. It felt right, having him in her arms as she continued to whisper into his ear, “It’s ok, don’t worry about me. After all, I’ve got you, my Apollo.”

Her Apollo. Harvey was practically red as a tomato, gushing at her precious words. He has liked y/n for years now. And now was the perfect opportunity to tell her. He had to tell her. He had to say the three little words that have haunted him for years. I love you. In the intimacy of each other's arms, he could have her, finally. Before he could utter the words resting on the tip of his tongue, another voice beat him to it. 

“y/n.” Bruce had found his way behind her. Upon hearing his voice, she shot up, out of Harvey’s touch, and sat as straight as a ladder. Sitting between the boys she could feel the intensity of the glares they sent each other. Attempting to disarm the situation, she turned to face Bruce, giving him full attention as they discussed something.

Harvey couldn’t care less about what they were talking about, but he did feel a pang of envy. For Bruce to steal her attention in a heartbeat, and catch her flustered, was a rarity for Harvey. But it got him thinking, this was just the kind of world he was born into. The kind where people take and refuse to give. Where the hurt can only be scarred. Bruce lay a testament to that, while Harvey became an exception. What would it do to y/n?

The line between the rich and the poor was no man’s land and the people who crossed it were bound to get hurt. y/n wasn’t weak, but he couldn’t bear to see her suffer. He wanted to protect her, and it seemed that the only way he could do that was by keeping his love to himself. Better for him to stay by her side than overcomplicate things with labels.

˖ ࣪🦇𓆰♡𓆪🦇ִ ࣪⋆

taglist: @earth-to-name

Nooo Bruce 😭😭😭

𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐕)

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"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)

wc: 2469

“We need to talk,” Bruce began as he pulled her away from Harvey.

“Aren’t we doing that already?” y/n quipped, upset by his sudden appearance. Harvey was about to say something important by the way his face hardened, but she’d have to wait to find out what. 

Bruce audibly groaned as his voice adopted a serious tone, “We need so place private to talk. Now.”

Her eyebrows remained knit, annoyed by Bruce’s insistence, yet regardless she turned toward Harvey to tell him she’d be leaving. It was careless of her to be alone with Bruce, especially after Harvey had disclosed his concerning nature, but regardless it couldn’t be worse than the alternative fate she was running from. 

When her head spun back to her best friend, she noticed Harvey lost in deep thought. His emerald eyes were fixated on something in the distance, staring right through the short blonde wavy bangs that fell over his forehead. She wanted to move a hand to caress his face and preserve the serene moment in which they were both momentarily at peace. She was melting in his presence and she wished to relish it for as long as she could, until Bruce cleared his throat and broke the trance she was lost in. 

“Harvey,” she called out softly, hoping to not startle him. After blinking a few times, he turned to meet his eyes with y/n’s. Acknowledging her with a hum, she continued, “I need to go. I don’t think I’ll be back soon, so don’t wait up for me. Ok?”

He sighed knowing that there was no convincing the woman after she had made up her mind about something. He thought of saying no. He didn’t want her to go, especially not with him. But, she wasn’t going to let go of Bruce anytime soon, despite his warning, and her decision to leave signaled something he wasn’t ready to admit just yet. She was drifting from him and though he was selfish enough to want her all to himself, he loved her too much to deny her anything. 

“Ok.” He answered, before turning back to the work he had set aside earlier. 

Before moving to leave she squeezed his shoulder attempting to elicit a response, but to her dismay, Harvey’s head remained unmoving from the papers in front of him. 

Bruce lead the way out of the library with y/n shadowing right behind with her head down in defeat. They strolled down the halls and past the buildings till they reached the school entrance where a limo was parked. She followed Bruce’s lead as they entered the vehicle and situated themselves.

“Where are we going?” She had no advantage over him, no leverage against Bruce to sway things in her favor. Bruce’s want for help was unexpected, but undeniably an advantageous opportunity for her to finally be free. Amidst the conversation with Harvey she had decided, she would take up on his offer, as long as she knew she was safe. 

“You got in a stranger’s car blindly?” Bruce quipped, obviously trying to tease her.

“Oh, so now we’re strangers? And for your information, I didn’t get in blindly. If we’re going to be partners we have to have a certain level of trust between us, no?” Bruce smirked, happy that she had taken up on his earlier proposition. 

“So, tell me. Why were you there that night?” 

y/n didn’t want to give him all her cards, after all, he had notoriously been deflecting all her questions. Instead, she changed the topic, hoping to run him in circles until he spilled what he knew first. “Are you sure this limo is a safe space to be talking about this? For all we know there could be recording devices hidden everywhere.”

“Trust me, there aren’t. Now, what aren’t you telling me?”

She couldn’t keep it in. If they wanted to get anywhere with this conversation, she had to tell him the truth, or at least part of it. “I ran errands for someone powerful. They usually–” She hesitated, scared that Bruce would turn on her. Instead, his face scrunched into a serious expression as he waited for her to continue, unwavering in his resolve. “I got bribes for them. I would go to a drop-off location, pick up cash, and bring it back to them. I thought this time it would be the same, but the address was something new.”

The boy seated across from y/n was engrossed in the details as he focused on the view outside the window. y/n rolled her eyes, growing irritated by his persistent ignorance of her. Ever since they met, he had barely spoken a word to her and purposely tried to hurt any way he saw fit. What was she even doing here, had she gone insane? Regret began to fester in the pit of her stomach as the past began to creep back into her mind. Four years of what felt like torture endured at the hands of a boy who wanted her help. Nothing made sense anymore. 

The ride continued in silence until they arrived at the manor and headed into an elaborately decorated study. Hundreds of books covered the rich mahogany shelves that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Some books were binded with real leather while others had delicate covers as if they were the original copies. There were no empty spaces or gaps between the levels as each shelf above perfectly matched the height of the books below. The intricacy of the carvings within the wood was so detailed that each crevice formed a masterpiece. Among racks of wood, was an antique bronze staircase still shiny and firm to the touch. It too had intricate designs enchanting it. It was a sight to behold, especially as the evening light filtered through the skylight.

At the center of the room stood a desk with a similar antiquity to it with carved wooden legs and a polished top. In front of it, a whiteboard was placed in which a series of photos, receipts, documents, and magnets were organized, all connected by red string. At the sight, y/n turned to Bruce with an eyebrow raised, barely able to hold the urge to tease him about playing detective. 

“I’ve been investigating Carmine Falcone for a while now. That night we both got an address. You might’ve thought that the address you received was of his home, but you’re wrong.” Bruce began his eagerness to share his revelations apparent in his voice. 

“What do you mean? What else could it be?” y/n turned her body towards him, paying full attention.

“I’m not sure. But I know for a fact that the address I got was of his real home. So that must mean you’re being taken elsewhere.” 

“How would you even know that? If everyone knows Falcone lives in one place, don’t you think it’d be too dangerous for him to do anything illegal there? It would be out in the open.”

“Precisely, he’s hiding in plain sight.” 

y/n thought for a moment. It made sense for him to keep his secret operation somewhere no one would expect. Even more chilling was the admitting that Falcone or Wilcox was trying to tie her up with something really bad. Of course, she would get the ominous address, there would be no one to question her disappearance and no support for her to fall back on if they did in fact trap her. She was the perfect scapegoat. 

Bruce continued, brushing off the worry that plagued y/n’s features. “A couple of months ago, I noticed an increased amount of movement of GCPD vehicles, but there was rarely any radio chatter on the police lines. Obviously, the disparity was suspicious so I–”

y/n stalked closer to Bruce as she interrupted, “How do you even that? Why do you know that? Bruce, it's not normal to be stalking the police even if you are immune to them. I need to know your intentions before I do something I know I’ll regret.” She glared at the boy as he mirrored her movements, attempting to intimidate her. He looked down at her, caging her between his arms as he moved unwaveringly. She didn’t realize her position until her back hit the desk and she was stuck. He put his hands at her sides, resting them on the desktop as he leaned his face closer to her. He was close enough for y/n to feel his warm breath on her skin, reminding her of when he had caught her in that tunnel. But his narrowed eyes scared her for within them, she could see a glimpse of the monster Harvey had described. 

“That’s for me to know.” His voice sounded more husky and articulate than before.

He moved a bit further away, still trapping y/n between him and the desk, as he resumed, “As I was saying, the extra vehicles always appeared after a drug bust. I investigated a little more and found out that half the drugs found at the crime scenes were never reported anywhere. It got me thinking: GCPD is known for being dirty. Almost every cop is on someone’s payroll and Falcone is probably using them to run an operation of his own.”

y/n still wasn’t buying it. Though she knew she shouldn’t poke the beast, she couldn’t help but give in to her instinct. “I still don’t understand why that’s suspicious. If the cops have been dirty for years, what’s so special about them helping Falcone now?”

“Like I said, that’s for me to know.” Bruce remained resolute in his response, but it was the very thing that gave him away. y/n could tell he didn’t want to divulge his stake in the scheme, but it was something personal enough for him to investigate it to this degree. 

Regardless, she decided she should stop pushing her luck. Bruce was right, she didn’t need to know his motivation to get out of this alive. Concentrating on the case once more, she pondered on the evidence he had presented. Gotham was infamous for its drug distribution, and heading those operations was usually Falcone. “So Falcone’s taking the drugs from his competitors in these busts, asking the cops to take half the supply to give to him, and outselling?”

The two continued their discussion of the case, analyzing all the items pinned on the whiteboard. Eventually, they both moved to seat themselves on the floor, allowing the tension to dissipate with every laugh Bruce was able to get out of y/n. Though he didn’t reveal much about himself, and neither did she to him, they both enjoyed tracing the trail formed by the idiocy and carelessness of the crooked cops. 

Before she knew it, the skylight had darkened, preset lights had turned on, and an empty pizza box lay open beside her. She could feel Bruce’s gaze on her, softer than before. A genuine smile painted her face as she looked at him ignoring the butterflies that tumbled in her stomach. There was no denying how handsome Bruce Wayne was. The sharp jaw, slicked-back black hair with a single strand falling in front of his face and sculpted features made him look like the heartthrob of the century. Something about his conviction reminded her of Harvey, how they were both so purposeful. 

He moved his fingers closer to hers, laying them atop hers as used his other hand to pull out a box from his pocket. Presenting the item, he revealed, “I’m sorry about your other phone, but you have to admit, that thing was ancient.”

Smiling, she playfully tapped his arm, feigning offense as she noticed the photo of a phone on the box. He placed it between them and gestured for her to open it. Awed by just how advanced and pricey the phone seemed just from its encasing she protested, “Bruce, I know I said that you owe me a phone but I can’t take this.”

“You’ll have to, how else will anyone be able to hear your angelic voice when you’re not there.” Bruce furiously blushed as the words left his lips, but the ambient light was just warm-toned enough to hide it. y/n, on the other hand, was confused and flustered by the unexpected compliment. She stumbled over her words before sealing her lips shut and surrendering to him.

Opening the box, she was met with the newest, best model of the iPhone on the market. Her jaw was practically on the floor as she gawked at her newest prized possession. She had never had the finances to afford something this beautiful or functional. The sleek surface of the unscratched screen and the undented backing of the phone was truly awing. 

Left speechless, she was barely able to let out her gratuity with an appreciative “Thank you.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Usually, Monday classes were the dullest point of the week. But this time, y/n’s mind was rarely in class. As the teachers began to say their farewells and congratulations to the students for having finally completed high school, y/n lost herself within a mind captured by Bruce Wayne. It wasn’t out of character for her to be alone, so as she daydreamed free from the suspicions of others, y/n began entertaining the possibilities for why Bruce was being nice to her. 

It wasn’t until the end of the day when Harvey had come to accompany her for the practice graduation ceremony that she forced herself out of the trance. It was dangerous to fall for someone so fickle with his partners, much less someone who held her life in his hands. If she upset him, annoyed him, or even irritated him too much, there was not telling what he would do. 

As she filtered into the football field, holding onto Harvey’s shirt so as to not get separated in the crowd, she saw Bruce. Situated by the podium, he had a girl wrapped in his arms. She was laughing at something he said, leaning into him close enough for their noses to touch. For a moment her line of sight was blocked but as the crowd began to die, she saw him kissing her passionately. 

It was no surprise he would have arm candy with him, he always did. But why did it hurt? Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach and her eyes became teary leaving her stupefied. Why did it confuse her so much? 

Despite the discrepancy between her mind and her heart, one thing was clear. Harvey was right: Bruce had a knack for causing pain and how foolish was she to think that she was the only flower in his garden.

˖ ࣪🦇𓆰♡𓆪🦇ִ ࣪⋆

taglist: @earth-to-name

Bruce Wayne and cunnilingis or somnophilia pls

set the night on fire

ೃ⁀➷ bruce wayne x afab reader

ೃ⁀➷ word count 358

ೃ⁀➷ a/n: this is just a short drabble! hope you enjoy!

ೃ⁀➷ warnings: somno, cunnilingus

ೃ⁀➷ please reblog & leave a comment with your thoughts 🫶🏻

╰➤ linktree ╰➤ pinterest╰➤ requests open check rules

there was nothing as delicious as the taste of your pussy.

it was still dark when bruce roused from his sleep. he stared at the outline of your curves. your breaths were deep, chest rising and falling softly. the bed sheets curled around your naked frame.

bruce leaned his face into your neck, taking a deep breath, relishing your scent.

he did not want to wake you up, but he just wanted a taste, just a small taste. he knelt at the foot of the huge bed, in front of your feet.

the fingers of each hand curled around each of your ankles, slowly opening your legs.

bruce crawled into your space, leaning his head on your inner thighs, his eyes honed into your glistening pussy. he swiped a finger through your cunt, sliding your folds open. collecting your juices. he brought the finger to his lips and closed his eyes in bliss.

yea, just one taste was not going to be enough.

he placed his head closer, his nose breathing in your delicious fragrance. it was instinctual, he licked a stripe up your cunt, his destination? your clit. he scraped it softly with his top teeth. your hips spasmed and you murmured something in your sleep but did not wake. he swirled his tongue on your throbbing clit, but he wanted more. he went lower, sliding his tongue inside you, lapping at every little drop of you he could reach. he felt your gummy walls clench around him, a strangled moan left your lips before his mouth was flooded with your cum, he licked and sucked every last drop, and did not stop. your hips jerking with sensitivity.

he let out a guttural moan when he felt your nails scrape his skull, he looked up at you through his lashes,

your back was arched in pleasure, thighs clenched around his head.

“bruce~” you whined.

“you taste so good baby, i can’t help myself, i don’t have the resolve to wait until you wake.”

“well, i’m up mr. wayne, how about you go back to what you were doing huh? bruce?”

he was more than happy to oblige

Bruce Wayne and cunnilingis or somnophilia pls

set the night on fire

ೃ⁀➷ bruce wayne x afab reader

ೃ⁀➷ word count 358

ೃ⁀➷ a/n: this is just a short drabble! hope you enjoy!

ೃ⁀➷ warnings: somno, cunnilingus

ೃ⁀➷ please reblog & leave a comment with your thoughts 🫶🏻

╰➤ linktree ╰➤ pinterest╰➤ requests open check rules

there was nothing as delicious as the taste of your pussy.

it was still dark when bruce roused from his sleep. he stared at the outline of your curves. your breaths were deep, chest rising and falling softly. the bed sheets curled around your naked frame.

bruce leaned his face into your neck, taking a deep breath, relishing your scent.

he did not want to wake you up, but he just wanted a taste, just a small taste. he knelt at the foot of the huge bed, in front of your feet.

the fingers of each hand curled around each of your ankles, slowly opening your legs.

bruce crawled into your space, leaning his head on your inner thighs, his eyes honed into your glistening pussy. he swiped a finger through your cunt, sliding your folds open. collecting your juices. he brought the finger to his lips and closed his eyes in bliss.

yea, just one taste was not going to be enough.

he placed his head closer, his nose breathing in your delicious fragrance. it was instinctual, he licked a stripe up your cunt, his destination? your clit. he scraped it softly with his top teeth. your hips spasmed and you murmured something in your sleep but did not wake. he swirled his tongue on your throbbing clit, but he wanted more. he went lower, sliding his tongue inside you, lapping at every little drop of you he could reach. he felt your gummy walls clench around him, a strangled moan left your lips before his mouth was flooded with your cum, he licked and sucked every last drop, and did not stop. your hips jerking with sensitivity.

he let out a guttural moan when he felt your nails scrape his skull, he looked up at you through his lashes,

your back was arched in pleasure, thighs clenched around his head.

“bruce~” you whined.

“you taste so good baby, i can’t help myself, i don’t have the resolve to wait until you wake.”

“well, i’m up mr. wayne, how about you go back to what you were doing huh? bruce?”

he was more than happy to oblige

You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 1

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

Warnings: no proof reading, sexual activities, language, neglecting husband and father, kinda angst/comfort

Imagine Bruce Wayne with no child, no wife (you), no friends and no more Alfred. He was all alone, making his life even harder, more cruel, more violent.

He didn’t adopt any child - not even Dick - because Alfred died quickly after Bruce became an adult. Thus, Bruce needed to take care of himself, and he didn't feel like he could look after a child. He was too tired and too depressed. He didn't want to bring any child into such a dark life.

His hands were full with Wayne Enterprises and his Batman way of life, so he also didn't make time for the Justice League. He sometimes helped them when it was about Gotham but nothing else.

And he never succeeded in getting you. He knew you. Oh yes, he knew you. He always thought that Batman would be his sole obsession, destroying him and his body. But then he met you, and he grew half insane. He needed you in his life so badly; he didn't care about anyone else. You were such a ray of sunshine in his dark existence. But you didn't want him. He was too desperate for you. You were scared of the darkness surrounding him, and you hated that rich man who wasn't trying hard enough for Gotham's poor people. He would have loved to cover you in affection and gifts, but you always escaped him.

Imagine this same Bruce Wayne being switched from places with another Bruce Wayne from another universe. This other Bruce had children, was married to you, and was friends with the Justice League. Alfred was still around. But this Bruce was neglecting everyone a little bit. This man thought he was entitled to get everything. His relationships were just alright with everyone. You more than once thought about getting a divorce actually, but you loved your life too much to let it go, even if Bruce could be a disappointment.

Imagine the lonely and desperate Bruce Wayne waking up one morning with you in the same bed as him.

At first, he believed it was all a dream, so he happily pulled you against his chest and snuggled up against you. He kissed the top of your head. When his alarm sounded out, he simply turned it off and hugged you tighter. He felt good and warm for the first time since his parents died. He completely melted in pure joy when you gently kissed his chest and neck, stroking his scarred stomach. He leaned into all your touch. He had no idea when he was going to wake up, so he wanted to enjoy this as much as possible. He didn’t want to think of the cold and empty bed that was going to greet him soon enough. He just wanted to stay there forever, cherished by you. Your scent was bringing him such comfort. He was relaxed, feeling safe and at home. This was what heaven must look like, he thought.

"Not running to work already?" You softly asked, a little bit surprised you didn't have to beg your husband for morning cuddles

"I'm good here," Bruce mumbled into your hair, his eyes closed in bliss

"What have you done to my husband?" You laughed as you straddled the man, looking down at him.

Husband? Fuck, it sounded so sweet to his ears. Bruce opened his eyes, drinking into your form. He loved how the sun was softly shining against your skin. He moved his hands on your thighs and stroked your skin. You were a goddess to him

“You’re beautiful” He whispered

You hummed and leaned to hungrily kiss him. He almost moaned against your lips. He had dreamt so many times of the feel of your mouth against his. But it was different than usual, it was better than he expected. He felt so whole. You were his soulmate. He always believed it. And feeling you like that… He promised himself that once he would be back to reality, he would find a way to seduce you. He needed you. You teasingly bit his bottom lip, and he smiled. Bruce's hands greedily moved around your body before settling on your ass. He gently squeezed it.

“Naughty” Ypu giggled, and he smiled even more

“Not my fault. You’re a goddess of love and light” He whispered

You didn’t reply. You weren’t too used to your husband talking to you like that. Your Bruce was good to you, but he never called you such things. He never watched you with such devotion in the eyes.

You sightly moved away to remove your nightgown under his watch. This Bruce had no idea how gorgeous you were naked, on top of him. He realised it was his favourite sight from now on. Gosh, what he wouldn’t do to be allowed to be greeted like that every morning of his life? He had dreamt so many times to be allowed to see you like this, to touch you like a lover and to take care of you. He was happy he was shirtless when you leaned back against him so he could feel your skin against his. He gently switched positions with you so he could get down on you. He kissed your neck, breasts, stomach, and inner thighs before settling in between your legs. He would have taken the time to kiss your legs and feet if he hadn’t been so hungry for you. It was such a vivid and nice dream. And he wanted you so badly. The way your fingers moved into his hair and tightened their hold whenever he was making you moan in pleasure became his favourite sensation. After the second orgasm he gave you this morning, he started to wonder if he truly was dreaming. You felt so real. 

He didn't have time to think more about it as you brought him closer to you. You were softly panting, as he was happily kissing and stroking your skin. You were made to be worshipped, he thought. And he would love to be your most obedient and caring servant.

A soft knock at the door startled the two of you.

"Master Bruce, do I need to cancel all the meetings you had this morning?" Alfred's voice sounded out.

Bruce froze for a few fractions of seconds before regaining his composure. Was it truly Alfred? His dream was getting nicer and nicer. However, it was hard to think when you were affectionately kissing his skin and playing with his hair, looking at him with such tenderness in your beautiful eyes. He needed all his willpower to answer Alfred back.

"I'm on my way to Wayne Enterprises, Alfred," He finally replied, and you laughed because he really didn't look like he was. 

The sound of your laughter made his chest blow with a warm feeling he didn't know. He was so deeply in love with you. He was so happy. And yet, the word “happy” didn’t feel strong enough to describe how he felt in this instant. He leaned to kiss you with pure affection before getting up, even though he would have loved to stay in bed with you.

You decided to be a good wife who cared about your husband’s work and duty, so you didn't follow in the shower, knowing Alfred would indeed need to cancel all of the meetings. You wondered what you did last night for Bruce to treat you with such passion and love this morning. You wished things would be more often like that. 

You were still lying in bed when Bruce came out of the shower. Before looking for some clothes, he went back to you, like a magnet attracted to you. He kissed your naked back before kissing your lips.

"Time for some lunch with me, hon?" you asked, clearly pushing your luck, but Bruce seemed in a very good mood today.

You were ready for him to say no, though, like he always did.

"Of course, anything you want," He whispered, smiling.

He was excited you seemed to want to spend more time with him.

You didn’t add anything, truly wondering what you did last night. He kissed you again before dressing up. You enjoyed the view from the bed. Bruce loved the warm feeling of your eyes on him. He couldn’t get enough of your attention.

He reluctantly left the room after having stolen another kiss from you. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He properly greeted Alfred and thanked him for having checked on him.

Bruce was a little bit surprised to discover so many young adults and teenagers eating breakfast in his living room, but it was giving some life to his old manor. And in a dream, you couldn’t expect everything to make sense, right? So he simply greeted everyone and asked if they all slept well, like his father did when he was a child. They all seemed stunned by the question, but they still answered. What amazed them even more was that Bruce actually listened to their answers. He waved them all goodbye, wished them a good day, and went to work.

It was time for lunch, and Bruce hadn't woken up yet. His meetings were now done, and he could take some time to think. Everything felt so real so far. Usually, in dreams, when you read something, lines are blurry or the words mean nothing or the words change all the time... But it didn't happen. Apart from the people he didn’t know in his living room, everything seemed to make sense?

He typed away his name on his Internet browser and started to read about how he was dealing with Wayne Enterprises, how he was married to you, how he adopted or took under his roof many children. Bruce Wayne seemed quite… popular. He looked for Batman's work as well. It seemed he was often with the Justice League, and he had some vigilantes under his lead. He started to think about what happened last night - before he woke up with you in his arms.

He could now remember a very bright light engulfing him while he was fighting off some criminals.

"Where are we going for lunch?" You texted him, and the notification brought him back to the present

"That Italian restaurant near Wayne Enterprises?" He offered.

He always wished he could invite you there because he quite enjoyed this place. He hoped the place existed here, but with your answer it seemed it did.

"Oh yes, it's been a while!" You quickly replied. "I'll meet you there in a few. Love you <3" You added

"Love you too, wife" Bruce sent back.

Gosh, he never thought he would be allowed to send you such words and it was making his head spin.

But Bruce was a smart man, so he started to understand that he must have taken the place of the Bruce Wayne of this world. It couldn’t be a dream because it was too detailed and realistic. It couldn’t be an illusion, because something would have felt off to him. It wouldn't have been the first time he was trapped in an illusion, he would have been able to feel it. This place... everything felt true, real.

There were only two possibilities: someone brought him to a parallel universe or he died and went to heaven. 

He hurt one of his fingers to draw blood. He couldn’t be dead if he was still bleeding, could he? So if he was going with the parallel universe, it meant… It meant that the other Bruce Wayne had this perfect little life. Fuck, he felt a deep and raw jealousy stabbing his heart: why didn't this Bruce suffer like he did? Why did this version of himself get everything he ever wished for himself? Alfred, children, you? Even Batman seemed to be doing better here. Wayne Enterprises were thriving, the biggest and most powerful firm of Gotham. 

He needed to understand what happened... So he could forever stay here. There was no way he was going back to the Hell that used to be his life. He would kill himself at the instant he would get back. How could he survive being alone again? The other Bruce was a problem because if he was alive, he would want to get back here. But fuck him. Everyone seemed so surprised by how he was acting, so he was certain that the Bruce of this world didn’t deserve their love. And he would do anything to deserve it. It was his chance to finally be happy and he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

--

PART 2

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Reader's origin story

When I started this new Batman obsession, I soooo needed to get this out of my system, so I wrote and wrote and wrote. I figured I could share this with you.

I start with reader's origin story because some stuff will be hinted througout the series (10 parts so far) and because it explains some of her reactions.

Just so you know, it's afab!reader, but there is absolutely NO description of her, and nothing in her backstory says she is white. But as a white girl myself, if I missed something, PLEASE LET ME KNOW and send me a DM. I really want you all to enjoy some Bruce Wayne x reader, no matter who you are or what you look like!!

That being said, enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, awful childhood with toxic parents, mentions of death and violence, reader has a negative image of Batman

You were coming from the poorest neighbourhood of Gotham. The most dangerous one as well: the Narrows.

You had been lucky to climb the social ladder thanks to your grandma who loved you more than anything and absolutely wanted you to study abroad. She wanted better for you. She wanted you to meet your true potential. She always said that if she - as well as your mother - had been a little more educated, they would have been women of power. And more importantly, they would have been women of freedom. By now, it was too late for her and for her daughter, but it was not too late for you. She decided to sacrifice everything she had to give you what the women of the family never had before.

By allowing you to get an education, she also saved you from a very dark family. She saved you from your father, who used to be a gangster closely working with Don Falcone and to be friends with Victor Zsasz. Your father ended in jail before dying there. 

It was what people said at least. 

Your mother didn’t know if he had been killed there or if he killed himself. Either way, she was relieved this monster was now gone from her existence. But you knew the truth: you were 16 when this happened, and you had known your father very well. You had followed him for all those years, like his shadow. He used you as a right hand because you were his favourite kid. It meant you knew Don Falcone personally. So when your father “died”, you knew better than to believe it. You went to the Roman, and you asked him to open the coffin after the funeral, just to make sure if all of this was true or not. You weren’t too surprised when you found rocks instead of a body. Don Falcone offered to work for him because you had potential indeed.

But you declined when your grandmother insisted for you to get an education. You had been at a crossroad: you could have started the life of a gangster or you could have been something else. Still now, you wondered what gave you the strength to be something else.

About your father, you never heard about him so far, and you were grateful about it. You had realised as you grew up that he was using you because you were a smart and silent kid. You knew how to behave with dangerous people: you never let anyone or anything intimidate you. When you weren’t with your father, you were reading books, so you quickly learnt to have a way with words and to read people as well. 

You guessed it was still useful now, and you hated it that it was all thanks to your father. At least, your grandma offered you another life, and you would forever be grateful for that. You couldn’t blame your own mother who never loved you - you looked way too much like your father. She was a mess who ran away when your father disappeared, so you really only had your grandma left to take care of you.

You went aboard. You went to England and you studied. You studied hard to the point of becoming a top student in college and then in university.

You understood what it was to be free indeed. You enjoyed your life away from Gotham, and you weren’t too sure if you would ever go back there.

However, after your graduation, your grandma’s health started to go down. Your mother didn’t want to go back to Gotham to take care of her, and your grandma didn’t want to leave Gotham because it had been her home her whole life. She also strongly believed that if people like Batman were fighting for the city, she couldn’t go away and seem ungrateful. You tried to convince her that Batman probably didn’t care, but she was stubborn.

At that time, Batman was so young and so fresh. People didn’t know if they should like him or not. You didn’t particularly like him. You weren’t too sure to understand why he was doing what he was doing. Most importantly, you felt like he was taking care of the big villains and letting most of the population of Gotham alone. The man clearly didn’t come from the Narrows and he couldn’t understand that if more than half of the neighbourhood population was working for the big villains as goons was because they didn’t have any other choice. You heard about his “gadgets” and you thought that all this money could have bought a school in the Narrows. Or a hospital. Or anything else useful.

Sometimes, you felt like you were being a little bit harsh on the Bat; at least someone fought against Don Falcone. You knew what the Roman was capable of, and yeah, maybe Batman was better than you wanted to admit it.

You ended up coming back to Gotham so you could take care of your grandma. She loved you even more for that, even if she didn’t want you to ruin your career for her. You easily found a job and slowly but surely went higher in society. You were good with words. You were good at getting people to do what you wanted, and more importantly, you were good at getting people to tell you their darkest secrets. You were doing well. You were happy to be back in Gotham, actually. It was your home too.

Years went by, and new vigilantes arrived, disappeared, and came back. Only Batman was always there. You still weren’t a big fan of him, even if you could admit he was clearly doing his best for the city. You preferred the new guy in town, though: Red Hood. He was taking care of things, and he also had the reputation to protect the kids and the civilians.

Your grandma was very excited when she learnt you were both living in his “territory”. You actually met him one night. He seemed to be looking around. When he spotted you, he walked to you.

“Hello, ma'am. Is everything alright? Do you need someone to get you home safely? This isn’t a very safe place right now. An asshole hid bombs everywhere around here.” he had told you, and you were a little bit surprised after everything you heard about him.

He was known to be a Crime Lord and to be some sort of enemy to Batman, but not really one either.

“I have lived here since forever. I’m all good, thank you” you replied with a smile “Thank you for being around” you said

“Oh well, you really shouldn’t thank me.” he hummed, clearly taken aback. 

He wasn’t used to people thanking him for anything

“On the contrary, finally, someone is doing something. Not like Batman. Hope you’ll stick around” you added

“Ok, let me bring you to your building, at least.” Red Hood insisted, and you agreed. 

You didn’t know why, but you felt you could trust him.

You weren’t an investigative journalist at that time, but later, you would write in favour of Red Hood… and quite in disfavour of Wayne Enterprises and his CEO.

When your grandma died, you took care of her funeral and of her flat, on your own. You gave the key back to find your own place. It was smaller, but at least you weren’t in the Narrows anymore. You stayed close to Red Hood’s territory, though. You never thought about leaving Gotham again, even if the Daily Planet offered you a job in Metropolis. You needed to stay in Gotham. She was your home, and you wanted to fight for her.

Another decade went by and even if you did good - everyone was reading your articles and knowing your name (without knowing your face) - you clearly had never thought you would go to one of those charity galas hosted by the popular Bruce Wayne.

You were currently writing for an independent and political newspaper of Gotham. Bruce Wayne was often criticised in it, which was one of the only media to do so. Bruce Wayne had offered someone to come over so they could see he had nothing to hide and that his charity galas had real purposes.

You had been chosen among the journalists because they knew you wouldn’t be naïve enough to believe everything the man would tell you.

You had no idea this gala would change your life.

And Bruce’s as well.

--

PART 1

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - First date (part II)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

reader's origin story // Part 1 //

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of being uneasy,

Of course, Bruce Wayne offered to go to the nicest restaurant in all of Gotham. He wanted to impress you, but more importantly he knew the place like the back of his hand. That way, if he needed to leave for a little Batman intervention, he could do without you to notice.

It would be even easier because you had clearly never put even one toe there before. You weren’t too sure how to act in such an elitist place but you tried your best to look at ease, once again. You didn’t want to give away anything to Bruce Wayne, not when you could learn something new about the man tonight.

However, the way Bruce had eyed the dress you picked with clear appreciation helped you feel better about yourself. If the man was enjoying what he was seeing, it meant you were starting to know how to behave in such places. It was true you went to quite a few of Falcone’s receptions when you were a child, but it was such a long time ago. And at that time, you simply wanted to be with your father. Now, you were there for yourself alone. In addition, if your body could distract Bruce from his “Brucie” persona, it was even better. You had no intention of flirting with him, but you were going to take what you could.

You were grateful that Bruce was right on time, unlike his usual public appearances. You weren’t flattered or anything, you were just glad he wasn’t starting this “date” with a negative note right away.

You settled together in the VIP room of the restaurant, so you could enjoy some food without having to worry about the people around you hearing you or seeing you together. You had warned your boss you were going out with Bruce Wayne though. You weren’t too at ease with that, and you didn’t want your colleagues to start and spread rumours about you. You didn’t want to lose your credibility because of a rich white man.

And yet, you found yourself enjoying such delicious food with Bruce Wayne.

You were ashamed to admit that you enjoyed your evening and Bruce’s company.

He was a lot less playing the likeable rich guy, he seemed more… at ease. You wouldn’t say sincere or true to himself, but he seemed less fake. And he was actually a lot nicer. You found out you wanted to know more of his real nature, and not just to write an article about all the bad things he must have done. You wanted to discover what the man was hiding because you were a detective, but also because there was something that you found very attractive about him.

If at first you had kept asking questions, quickly enough the discussion started to be quite natural between the two of you. You both agreed on a lot of subjects, especially political ones. You were agreeably surprised about it, but you never fully believed him. You wondered if the man was saying the truth, or if he was just trying to get you to like him more. You had to admit than more than once he seemed to truly think what he was saying though.

After a little while, as you relaxed, you saw a shift in Bruce’s persona. 

“I’d be more than happy to invite you again for my next gala.” Bruce hummed

“I didn’t particularly enjoy this experience and I still have no dress to match the standard” you politely declined the offer

“I can buy you a dress, anything you’d like.” Bruce almost smiled

“Are you trying to bribe me, Mr Wayne?” you teased “I can’t accept gifts from you, not when I’m actually one of the only persons in Gotham to write bad things about you”

“Oh so this is still about work?” he asked, he seemed even a little bit disappointed

“What do you mean?”

“I asked you out for a date, not for another interview” he replied

“I will never stop being a journalist.” your shrugged

“Of course, but it doesn’t mean you can’t accept a gift from me” he insisted

“I’m not someone with a lot of power in Gotham, but my words allow me to say what needs to be said. I don’t want people to stop finding me trustworthy because of you, because I accept gifts from you” you explained

“I… I think I understand” he nodded

“Plus I never said I was here for pleasure.” you added “But… you’re surprising me” you finally admitted, half because you didn’t want to be so rude with him.

“How so?” Bruce raised an eyebrow

“You’re actually quite nice to talk with.” you said and Bruce laughed

“I feel like I should thank you, as I’m not sure I’ll hear such a compliment from you ever again” he gently teased and you laughed as well

“You’re very right about that” you smirked

The more time went by, the more you teased… and flirted with each other. You had promised yourself to not flirt with him, but then you told yourself it was just a game. Actually, you were both thinking you were playing a dangerous game, but you were enjoying yourselves too much to care about it. You were getting along despite everything.

You noticed Bruce received several messages he ignored, until something really important came up and he excused himself for a moment. You thought maybe it was time to call it a night. It was getting late and Bruce clearly had things to take care of.

When Bruce came back, you asked him if everything was alright, to which he nodded.

“I’d understand if you need to leave now” you offered him an exit you thought he would take

“Oh no. Well, except if you want to come back home, but I’m in no rush” he replied and waited for your answer

“I’m in no rush either” you smiled

Bruce relaxed again and you decided to go out of the restaurant.

The air was nice in Gotham so you walked in the streets together, until you saw something sparkling your interest at Gotham theatre. Bruce was more than willing to follow you around so you both settled inside the theatre. It was an adaptation of one of your favourite books. You couldn’t help but make little comments about the story and the characters. Bruce found it very endearing and the way you would lean against him… delicious. Your presence was something like he never felt before in his life. For you, it all felt like a strange but not unpleasant dream.

It was very late when Bruce and his butler brought you back home. You had been very polite and nice to Alfred, even asked him if Bruce Wayne was treating him well enough. You joked about all the things he must have seen in the manor and Alfred liked how bold and teasing you were. Bruce’s dates never talked with him before as they were all over Bruce. And you so clearly weren’t. Bruce usually faked being comfortable around them, but for once Alfred noticed his Master truly seemed at ease.

You thought that every good thing had an end, and you were quite certain that this would be your one and only “date” with the richest man of Gotham. Men didn’t usually enjoy your way to be: too free, independent and bold for most of them. You were a free spirit too and you never really cared about dating anyone.

But for once, you might have thought twice about it.

You were surprised when Bruce asked you if you wanted to see him again.

You were even more surprised when you sincerely answered yes.

Bruce smiled at your answer and gently put a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Call me or text me whenever you feel like seeing me again” he told you as he gave you his phone number. 

You simply nodded before watching him get back inside the limo and leave.

You had no idea that Alfred gave a very curious look to his master now it was just the two of them.

“What is it, Alfred?” Bruce asked

“You have quite a bit to catch on. The children worked well but… it is unusual for Batman to not be around” Alfred commented “I believe this is the first time you prioritise your date over your duty, and that it lasts that long. Mrs L/N isn’t quite your usual date either, if I might add.”

“I… don’t usually enjoy myself” Bruce shrugged

“Then I’m happy for you, Master Bruce. Life shouldn’t be all about brooding and fighting against bad people.” Alfred replied, hoping something might finally change in Bruce’s existence

--

PART 3

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

Taglist for this series <3

@esposadomd

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - First time (part III)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: no proof reading, sexual activity (explicit), mentions of reader being attacked by Double Face's goons, wild cat!reader, needy!Bruce

You had told yourself you would only have one more date with Bruce, just one. For investigation purposes and nothing more.

And yet, when it was time to say goodbye to the man, you realised you didn’t ask the questions you had prepared. You had been too caught up in the moment to care about anything else.

So you promised yourself just one other date, and this time you would ask the questions you had. You didn’t really know why Bruce was so eager to have dates with you. You didn’t seem like the kind of woman he usually went out with.

And really, you had no idea how you ended talking to him everyday and seeing him whenever the two of you had time, even for a quick lunch. You were both always finding a way to make time to see each other. It was important. It felt important. You couldn’t even pretend it was because you wanted to know all his secrets anymore. Of course, you wanted to know, but not because you were a journalist, because you really liked to spend time with him.

It seemed Bruce quite enjoyed himself when he was around you as well. For the first time in his life, he did his best to balance a little more his life as Batman and his life as Bruce Wayne. It meant he was trusting his children a little more with the vigilante work. He was now talking a lot about teamwork and solidarity. And so far, the children couldn’t say Batman was lying to them.

A few months passed by, and you were both still spending as much time as before together. It started to be obvious you were finding each other very attractive. 

You couldn’t deny it anymore when you ended up in a very luxurious hotel room with Bruce Wayne. At first, it was because you both wanted to go a little further and the hotel was very close by. That night you just happily kissed each other and slept in the same bed. Bruce left in the middle of the night, and left you a little note to thank you for the evening. 

If it started for kisses, after a few nights, his hands got a little more greedy. He had been careful to not do anything that would make you uncomfortable. When he had moved his hands under your skirt, he softly asked you if it was okay.

You nodded, and started to undress him as well. 

You couldn’t think. 

You just wanted to touch him, you wanted him. You had sex with guys and girls before, but you had never wanted someone that badly. The more heated the kiss was getting, the more desperate for him you were getting as well. You were relieved to feel that it was the same for Bruce.

He needed you.

And yet he took his sweet time to discover your body. You had thought he would be the kind of guy to try and skip the preliminaries, but on the contrary. He was almost scientifically looking for your most sensitive spots. He expertly found them and used them against you. You even forgot about his pleasure when he was playing with you so efficiently. He made you come twice before you asked for him. He wouldn’t have stopped if you hadn’t asked, no matter how hard he was. Hearing your moans, seeing your face screwed up in pleasure, feeling your body against his were heaven to him. He was getting absolutely obsessed with you, even more than he already was.

Once he got inside of you, for a brief instant before the pleasure completely took over, he thought that he would go absolutely insane if you ran away from him after this. He already knew he would forever want more of you. 

You played with each other as if you could feel what the other wanted. You were in sync.

You both climaxed and Bruce gently removed himself from you before bringing you against his chest. He fully leaned against the pillows and closed his eyes in bliss. He felt truly good for once. He knew he needed to let his children know he was going to be so late for patrol, but for the moment he just wanted to enjoy what he had with you.

You snuggled against him, but you thought you needed to go. You wondered if that was not a mistake. You had promised yourself something like that wouldn’t happen.

Why was it feeling so right at the same time then?

“I should come home” you whispered

“Stay a little longer, please” Bruce murmured back

You looked up at him and you didn’t have the strength to leave his embrace. You completely relaxed against him, and the man softly hummed in appreciation. You started to trace all the scars littering his chest. You hadn’t noticed them when you had undressed him. You had felt them when you were making love, but you hadn’t really registered them. Now you could have a closer look at them.

However his own touch was distracting you. He was drawing abstract patterns on your back. You didn’t want to leave his embrace anymore and he clearly didn’t want to move either. The man was fully relaxed for once. 

The comfortable silence around the two of you allowed you to get a hold on your thoughts after a little while. 

You were wondering what the man did to get so hurt. The scars were deep and you had felt that they were present on his whole body. However Bruce Wayne wasn’t known to be a warrior of any kind. He was so muscular too, so strong. His suits were hiding how powerfully built he truly was. He reminded you of someone but you weren’t too sure of whom yet.

Your mind thought once again about all the "toys" produced by Wayne Enterprises.

You also remembered about his adopted kids who all seemed very well trained as well. And funny enough, whenever Bruce got a new child under his roof, now you thought about it a little more, it seemed like Gotham got a new vigilante.

Batman was known for his silence and his secrets. Bruce too.

You also remembered last week, when Batman saved you and your colleagues from Double-Face goons. Your newspaper had written and published quite nasty words about Harvey Dent so he had sent men to destroy you. Batman had been quick to react, quick to save you all. You had never seen him so close before. You had noticed the broad shoulders and the tense jaw. He had helped you back on your feet and checked on you to make sure you were all good. The intensity of his look reminded you of someone, but you didn’t think of Bruce yet. His presence was familiar; you just thought that was because you lived in Gotham for years now and that Batman's presence was familiar to everyone. But obviously, it was something else.

Now you understood. You personally knew Batman, you just didn’t know it then.

“You’re Batman, aren’t you?”

Bruce stopped stroking your back for an instant before resuming the gesture and cuddling you closer to his chest. It was easier now there was no more secret between the two of you. He had been late to quite a few dates and it was getting harder to find excuses. He had noticed you weren’t always believing him when he was talking to you too. Now he could simply focus on seducing you.

“I knew you’d figure it out easily. You see and get stuff rights away.” he hummed onto your hair before kissing the top of your crane. 

You looked up at him, reaching for his shoulder.

“You don’t seem to mind that I know who you are… And I guess your kids are the other vigilantes in town” you hummed

“From the beginning, I knew you would discover our secret identities if I keep seeing you. But for once I wanted to be selfish” he admitted

“Selfish?” you asked

“I really like you. You… make me happy” he whispered and you sat up to face him

“Look, I don’t usually like rich people, even if… well I guess you’re pretty decent. And yeah Batman is doing a good job. Most of the time. But I don’t know if a “us” would be a good idea” you said

“Why not?” he gently brought you closer to him

“I’m not certain I want to start something, even with a normal guy, which you are not” you admitted and he chuckled

“I’m not asking for any commitment. We can just keep having dates, spending time together, having sex if you want this too. You can see other people. I just need you to stay around.” he offered even if you could tell he wanted more than just this.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to keep your identity a secret” you said

“I trust you. You are a good person, you only write about bad things” he said

“How do you know Batman isn't a bad thing?”

“I know you’re not my biggest fan. But I believe you will, from now on, tell me directly what you think and not have to write it down somewhere else.” he replied “You didn’t answer about our relationship” he commented

“Alright”

“Alright?”

“I don’t mind keeping going with whatever we have. As long as this isn’t anything official” you didn’t even really know why you agreed but you enjoyed the sincere smile appearing on Bruce’s face and lighting up his eyes.

--

PART 4

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

Taglist for this series <3

@Esposadomd

@moraxussy

@resident-cryptid

@legendarypiratecheesecake

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Nothing official, right? IV

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Warnings: no proof reading, wild cat!reader, mentions of sexual activity, soft!Bruce to you, you like to gently bully Bruce.

You knew that even if you had told Bruce that you wanted nothing serious, your relationship was actually shifting to something a lot more official.

Everyone was gossiping about the fact that the rich playboy of Gotham seemed to be only spending time with one girl lately. And you were pretty certain that indeed Bruce hadn’t had any kind of romantic or sexual relationship apart from you. You hadn’t either because no one really interested you. It didn’t mean you wanted to be “his” girlfriend.

You were still worried you would lose your credibility now everyone knew Bruce was seeing you. After all, the “son of Gotham” was always followed by paparazzi and you couldn’t hide your relationship forever.

At first, you heard whispers around you; you were just another girl to fall for Bruce. But you kept writing articles about the elite of Gotham and you kept pointing things out. When something was about WE, you simply informed Bruce you were going to publish an article about his enterprises. You kept doing your work. And the man never stopped you from doing so, because he loved that about you. You were ruthless to him, and he was finding it way too attractive for his own good.

The whispers quietened down.

Bruce took advantage of the situation by freely gifting you absolutely gorgeous dresses and jewels, without having to worry about “bribing” you anymore. He was inviting you to his favourite restaurants as well. 

But he was also eager to follow you to little cinemas and places you enjoyed and in which you were more at ease. You always ended up in a hotel room or at your place. You didn’t necessarily have sex, even if he often ended on his knees and in between your legs. At least until Batman was called for duty by Gordon or his kids (he made sure to finish you off before running away). 

After his missions, he almost always came back to you, and you always took care of his wounds and bruises. You were his safe place. His haven.

You never asked questions about what happened. You knew who he was and it was enough for you. You also knew Gotham’s media would soon enough talk about the last adventures of Batman. He was grateful you never interrogated him because he could forget about work when he was with you. 

His children, Alfred and even the Justice League noticed how his mood changed lately. Of course, he was still a grumpy bear but some of his usual anger and despair seemed to have died down. He was more relaxed and even more open to discussion. After all, when he was with you, and that you thought Bruce or Batman should have been better, you always let him know without sugarcoating it. He appreciated it even if it was quite a humbling down experience for him as well. More than once he hinted that he would love to have you working at Wayne Enterprises by his side, but you didn’t want to date someone who would also be your boss. Bruce didn’t answer back that if you were getting married one day, he could easily make you co-CEO.

After a few more weeks, Alfred told Bruce that maybe you could come over to the manor. Bruce hadn’t brought you at first because he knew you would have felt uneasy and judgemental there. And then, he wasn’t too sure he wanted you to meet his family. He had no idea how his children would react to you. 

And even if he loved them, he didn’t want anything to ruin your current relationship. Especially now it was getting obvious to everyone that you weren’t a one night stand, you weren’t just a girl Bruce fancied, you weren’t just some fun for a little while. It was obvious that Bruce Wayne was falling in love. Hard. 

And everyone was whispering about it behind his back, sometimes teasing even him right in front of him (but his deathly stares always made them shut up).

More importantly, everyone was curious about you. 

Of course the children easily found you and followed you around to discover who you were. They hated to admit it but you did seem like the perfect match for both Bruce and Batman. You were fearless, you were intelligent and kind. You were a true detective yourself.

They learnt about your past. They felt like you could understand them too. You knew poverty, you knew violence, you grew up with bad people surrounding you, and yet you decided to be a good person. You decided to stay and to fight for Gotham, even though you could have ran away. And they loved to read your merciless articles about Bruce and Wayne Enterprises. Of course, you calmed down once you started this relationship, but gosh they found some pretty good punchlines they loved to use against their mentor.

During the day, Bruce called you and offered to eat at the manor for once. You understood it meant that your relationship was getting even more serious than you thought, which worried you a little bit. It wasn’t your fault if you were a wild cat. You asked if he was going to introduce you to his family and he laughed.

“I didn’t have time to tell them how to behave around you, so not this time, love. Just you and me.”

“To behave around me?” you asked

“I’ve never presented anyone to them before. Not officially at least.” he explained

“But you want me to meet them?” you hummed

“They ask a lot of questions about you, and they love your articles, so I’ll guess at some point we’ll have to.” Bruce replied

“Sounds good to me… I just need to get ready for meeting all of them. You really need to stop adopting children, Bruce” you teased

“Can’t promise anything” Bruce admitted and you groaned

Unfortunately, the night you were supposed to eat and sleep at the manor was a very busy night for Batman. Alfred was kind enough to start chatting with you. He finally sat down next to you as you both enjoyed some tea while waiting for Bruce. You went along quite well and Alfred went to bed that night, very grateful for whoever sent you on his master Bruce’s path. You were some fresh air in the manor.

It was late in the night when Batman, Nightwing and Red Robin went back home.

Dick and Tim absolutely wanted to greet you and they sneaked into the dinning room as Bruce was quickly showering and taking care of his wounds. Tim was observing you with interest as Dick was being his charming self.

“So you’re the girl” Dick said

“People generally call me Y/N” you replied with a raised eyebrow and Tim chuckled

“Haven’t you read what she wrote about Bruce and Wayne Enterprises, Dick? Be careful, she might kill you with her words” he teased and you laughed

“Do you still stand by what you said despite the fact you are now dating Bruce?” Dick asked with a tilt of the head

“Oh yeah, Bruce is still a rich traumatised guy with a saviour complex, who adopts too many kids each year. The Brucie persona is complete bullshit and I still roll my eyes when I hear him use that voice” you nodded

“That voice?” Tim asked

“The “I’m the good son of Gotham so let me help you” voice” you replied with a roll of your eyes “Gosh, what an actor” you added and both the boys started laughing.

They instantly liked you.

“Why are you with him then?” Dick asked and you hummed in thought

“Despite everything, it seems that Bruce is actually… likeable and interesting”

“You seem disappointed?” Tim commented

“In myself? Yes, very much. In Bruce, well I’ll give him some time” you winked

The boys laughed again but they hoped Bruce wouldn’t actually disappoint you. You were such normalcy, fun and happiness in the man’s life. They were certain you could bring a lot of joy in the family too.

They knew you cared about him a lot more than you were saying when they saw how you got up and checked on Bruce when he entered the room.

“I’m sorry I’m late… Well I guess you were doing well without me” Bruce arched an eyebrow at the four of you; Dick, Tim and Alfred were smiling.

“Oh yes, I was just speaking ill of you, hon” you teased “All good?” you asked and he nodded

“Always when you’re around” he whispered to you before kissing you. 

It was the cue for everyone to leave the two of you alone. Bruce and you forgot about everyone else anyways.

--

PART 5

--

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Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Nothing official, right? IV

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Warnings: no proof reading, wild cat!reader, mentions of sexual activity, soft!Bruce to you, you like to gently bully Bruce.

You knew that even if you had told Bruce that you wanted nothing serious, your relationship was actually shifting to something a lot more official.

Everyone was gossiping about the fact that the rich playboy of Gotham seemed to be only spending time with one girl lately. And you were pretty certain that indeed Bruce hadn’t had any kind of romantic or sexual relationship apart from you. You hadn’t either because no one really interested you. It didn’t mean you wanted to be “his” girlfriend.

You were still worried you would lose your credibility now everyone knew Bruce was seeing you. After all, the “son of Gotham” was always followed by paparazzi and you couldn’t hide your relationship forever.

At first, you heard whispers around you; you were just another girl to fall for Bruce. But you kept writing articles about the elite of Gotham and you kept pointing things out. When something was about WE, you simply informed Bruce you were going to publish an article about his enterprises. You kept doing your work. And the man never stopped you from doing so, because he loved that about you. You were ruthless to him, and he was finding it way too attractive for his own good.

The whispers quietened down.

Bruce took advantage of the situation by freely gifting you absolutely gorgeous dresses and jewels, without having to worry about “bribing” you anymore. He was inviting you to his favourite restaurants as well. 

But he was also eager to follow you to little cinemas and places you enjoyed and in which you were more at ease. You always ended up in a hotel room or at your place. You didn’t necessarily have sex, even if he often ended on his knees and in between your legs. At least until Batman was called for duty by Gordon or his kids (he made sure to finish you off before running away). 

After his missions, he almost always came back to you, and you always took care of his wounds and bruises. You were his safe place. His haven.

You never asked questions about what happened. You knew who he was and it was enough for you. You also knew Gotham’s media would soon enough talk about the last adventures of Batman. He was grateful you never interrogated him because he could forget about work when he was with you. 

His children, Alfred and even the Justice League noticed how his mood changed lately. Of course, he was still a grumpy bear but some of his usual anger and despair seemed to have died down. He was more relaxed and even more open to discussion. After all, when he was with you, and that you thought Bruce or Batman should have been better, you always let him know without sugarcoating it. He appreciated it even if it was quite a humbling down experience for him as well. More than once he hinted that he would love to have you working at Wayne Enterprises by his side, but you didn’t want to date someone who would also be your boss. Bruce didn’t answer back that if you were getting married one day, he could easily make you co-CEO.

After a few more weeks, Alfred told Bruce that maybe you could come over to the manor. Bruce hadn’t brought you at first because he knew you would have felt uneasy and judgemental there. And then, he wasn’t too sure he wanted you to meet his family. He had no idea how his children would react to you. 

And even if he loved them, he didn’t want anything to ruin your current relationship. Especially now it was getting obvious to everyone that you weren’t a one night stand, you weren’t just a girl Bruce fancied, you weren’t just some fun for a little while. It was obvious that Bruce Wayne was falling in love. Hard. 

And everyone was whispering about it behind his back, sometimes teasing even him right in front of him (but his deathly stares always made them shut up).

More importantly, everyone was curious about you. 

Of course the children easily found you and followed you around to discover who you were. They hated to admit it but you did seem like the perfect match for both Bruce and Batman. You were fearless, you were intelligent and kind. You were a true detective yourself.

They learnt about your past. They felt like you could understand them too. You knew poverty, you knew violence, you grew up with bad people surrounding you, and yet you decided to be a good person. You decided to stay and to fight for Gotham, even though you could have ran away. And they loved to read your merciless articles about Bruce and Wayne Enterprises. Of course, you calmed down once you started this relationship, but gosh they found some pretty good punchlines they loved to use against their mentor.

During the day, Bruce called you and offered to eat at the manor for once. You understood it meant that your relationship was getting even more serious than you thought, which worried you a little bit. It wasn’t your fault if you were a wild cat. You asked if he was going to introduce you to his family and he laughed.

“I didn’t have time to tell them how to behave around you, so not this time, love. Just you and me.”

“To behave around me?” you asked

“I’ve never presented anyone to them before. Not officially at least.” he explained

“But you want me to meet them?” you hummed

“They ask a lot of questions about you, and they love your articles, so I’ll guess at some point we’ll have to.” Bruce replied

“Sounds good to me… I just need to get ready for meeting all of them. You really need to stop adopting children, Bruce” you teased

“Can’t promise anything” Bruce admitted and you groaned

Unfortunately, the night you were supposed to eat and sleep at the manor was a very busy night for Batman. Alfred was kind enough to start chatting with you. He finally sat down next to you as you both enjoyed some tea while waiting for Bruce. You went along quite well and Alfred went to bed that night, very grateful for whoever sent you on his master Bruce’s path. You were some fresh air in the manor.

It was late in the night when Batman, Nightwing and Red Robin went back home.

Dick and Tim absolutely wanted to greet you and they sneaked into the dinning room as Bruce was quickly showering and taking care of his wounds. Tim was observing you with interest as Dick was being his charming self.

“So you’re the girl” Dick said

“People generally call me Y/N” you replied with a raised eyebrow and Tim chuckled

“Haven’t you read what she wrote about Bruce and Wayne Enterprises, Dick? Be careful, she might kill you with her words” he teased and you laughed

“Do you still stand by what you said despite the fact you are now dating Bruce?” Dick asked with a tilt of the head

“Oh yeah, Bruce is still a rich traumatised guy with a saviour complex, who adopts too many kids each year. The Brucie persona is complete bullshit and I still roll my eyes when I hear him use that voice” you nodded

“That voice?” Tim asked

“The “I’m the good son of Gotham so let me help you” voice” you replied with a roll of your eyes “Gosh, what an actor” you added and both the boys started laughing.

They instantly liked you.

“Why are you with him then?” Dick asked and you hummed in thought

“Despite everything, it seems that Bruce is actually… likeable and interesting”

“You seem disappointed?” Tim commented

“In myself? Yes, very much. In Bruce, well I’ll give him some time” you winked

The boys laughed again but they hoped Bruce wouldn’t actually disappoint you. You were such normalcy, fun and happiness in the man’s life. They were certain you could bring a lot of joy in the family too.

They knew you cared about him a lot more than you were saying when they saw how you got up and checked on Bruce when he entered the room.

“I’m sorry I’m late… Well I guess you were doing well without me” Bruce arched an eyebrow at the four of you; Dick, Tim and Alfred were smiling.

“Oh yes, I was just speaking ill of you, hon” you teased “All good?” you asked and he nodded

“Always when you’re around” he whispered to you before kissing you. 

It was the cue for everyone to leave the two of you alone. Bruce and you forgot about everyone else anyways.

--

PART 5

--

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Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Hi, Jason (Part V)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: no proof reading, Jason's relationships with Bruce and Dick are discussed, mentions of Joker, violence, death

You met with Dick again in a bookstore. At first, you thought that it was quite a strange coincidence, until you saw him trying to talk with a very big boy who didn’t seem very interested in talking with him. Dick appeared upset ; the other boy was just shrugging and trying to focus on the books in front of him. 

You hesitated to go to them; you didn’t want to intrude. You weren’t too sure to recognise the other boy, but his face somehow seemed familiar. What decided you was where they were standing: the classic literature aisle of the store. Which was what you were looking for when you entered the shop.

You thought you could just say hi and then leave them alone if your presence was annoying them. You carefully walked to them.

“Hey Dick” you greeted the boy who turned around and instantly smiled at you. 

You weren’t too sure if it was a real smile yet, so you didn’t come closer to him, but his answer showed he was actually glad to see you.

“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?” he asked

“Buying books I guess.” you teased “I was looking for Mansfield Park or Emma, now I finished Pride and Prejudice” you said. 

The big boy to whom Dick was trying to talk to, quickly turned around and looked you up and down. He watched you with curiosity sparkling in his green eyes. Dick took his chance before his brother could go back to the cover of the book he was holding.

“Y/N, this is Jason, my little brother. You seem to share the same taste in books” Dick introduced the two of them

“Hi, Jason” you smiled as you cautiously observed him, remembering who he was now you knew his name.

You remembered what you read about Bruce and his son “who came back from the dead” and all the headlines about “Bruce arguing with his adoptive son”. It had quite broken your heart at the time.

“You’re Bruce’s new girlfriend?” he asked you quite bluntly

“I hate titles and I hate to feel like a possession. But yes, I'm currently seeing Bruce.” you replied and Jason nodded “I’m surprised you heard about me.” you added. 

“Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that things are rocky with Bruce.” Jason said and you reassuringly smiled at him “And yeah, everyone is talking about you in the “family”. Dick and Tim said you were nice.” Jason explained his first coldness to you

“I understand; Bruce isn’t always easy and you don’t know me” you nodded

“Ah yeah?” Jason arched an eyebrow at you. 

He had expected you to take Bruce’s defence, like everyone else.

“Let’s say that I like challenges.” you smiled “And I’m not Bruce’s lawyer” you joked

“You should thank god for that, or you would have a lot of work” Jason grinned and you could tell Dick was quite happy about the current interaction.

“Can I buy the two of you a drink or something? Or a meal” you asked. “There is this sweet little café right outside the bookstore” you offered

You actually wanted to know more of them. Jason was curious about you so he agreed. Dick wanted to come as well, but he quickly received a call from Büdhaven. He reluctantly left the two of you together. Dick would have enjoyed some time with his brother too, but maybe you would help. If you helped with Bruce, he was certain you could do pretty much anything. At the same time, he really hoped Jason wasn’t going to scare you away from the family as a way to avenge himself.

But you knew better; you had met Red Hood before and you liked him.

You settled in the café. You started to talk about literature at first. You were both passionate so it was a good conversation starter. You gave each other some recommendations and debated on characters you liked or disliked. Your point of views on characters were often based on your experiences, so it naturally led to a conversion about each other’s lives. And of course, you arrived at the subject of Bruce Wayne.

“I’ll tell him to apologise to you. He shouldn’t have acted that way even if I do agree with the no killing rule” you said “You’re both right in a way, but… Bruce should have talked to you, he should have let you know what was going on with the Joker and why he couldn’t kill him. Why you couldn't kill him either. He should have been there to appease your anger, not the opposite” you said

“You’ll quickly learn that he doesn’t talk much. Especially not about his feelings. If it gets too personal, he’ll push the subject away. If it can hurt him, he’ll run away. He's a bad dad for that. And he might be a bad partner to you as well” Jason told you

“I’m sorry about what happened to you. It must have been so difficult to wake up without your family. And in a body you didn’t know. You did good, despite the murders and everything. Actually, Red Hood has always been my favourite vigilante” you admitted without commenting on the last part of Jason’s words. You wanted to believe that Bruce would make an effort for you.

Jason chuckled as you mentioned his vigilante persona.

“It’s true you never wrote anything bad about me. I thought you were scared of me… Until I realised we actually met” he teased, his eyes litting up

“Oh you remember? Yes I used to live in your territory, and now I’m nearby. I stand by what I said that night: I know what you did for people like us, that’s why I thanked you. Bruce can’t understand what it is to be poor and lost and to have to do bad things to survive. But I’ll make sure he does better with you.” you said “Just promise me to speak with Dick. Your brother looks like he is very eager to have you back in his life. He seemed very sorry you weren’t speaking with him earlier” you added

“I will try to talk with him again then. Thank you for… Thank you. I think I really needed to have this conversation with somebody but no one wanted to have it and I couldn’t really go to a therapist. You’re easy to talk with” he whispered, a little bit awkward

“I know” you smiled “I’m glad if I’ve been able to help”

“Is it your good action of the day to go to Heaven?” Jason joked 

“Absolutely” you giggled

A moment of comfortable silence engulfed the two of you. You both enjoyed your tea before you resumed talking:

“Hey you know what, this is my phone number. You can call or text me whenever you need it.” you offered

“Why?” Jason plunged his eyes onto yours. 

He was definitely not used of adults being there for him, especially without a catch

“Well I’m afraid I’m a family woman and my own family sucks very much. And since Bruce wants me around, I’d prefer it if I can get along with his people. I’d like to take care of you all.” you admitted, feeling a little shy to say all of this out loud.

Jason was also very easy to talk to.

“I don’t think I’m one of his people. Not anymore at least.” Jason sadly smiled at you

“You can be one of mine then. Take it as a repayment for allowing me to go back home every night without having to worry about anyone slicing my throat off” you insisted

“All the pleasure’s mine” he chuckled before saving your number onto his phone “You know, everyone says Bruce is nicer since you’re around. I have to admit this is true. Maybe happiness can truly change a man” 

“Even a bat?” you joked because Jason’s words were touching you a little more than you wanted to show it

“Even a bat” Jason nodded

A few days later, you received a message from Jason, clearly tasting the water with you.

J: Hey wanna go have some lunch together today or tomorrow?

You: Today sounds good :)

After this, you regularly had lunch together and Jason clearly started to see you as a motherly figure, and you saw him as a son. He crashed at your place more than once after patrol, so you could eat together. Bruce never commented on your relationship with Jason, but he heard you when you asked him to apologise.

Which he did.

Jason accepted it and tried his best with Dick and his other siblings. He was still feeling awkward around everyone, but he was slowly spending more time at the manor, even when Bruce was there. 

When Bruce asked if you wanted to meet all of his children anytime soon, you agreed but you instantly sent a message to Jason to make sure he would be there as well. He eagerly agreed because he couldn’t wait for you to be officially a member of the Batfamily.

--

PART 6

--

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Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Your new family (Part VI)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of stress, not a lot of plot here but little snippets of moments with all the kids

You were a little bit stressed out to meet all of Bruce’s children but you also felt like it was going to be alright. Jason was there, always by your side. Dick and Tim liked you and they had said only good things about you to the others. Especially Dick, because he was well aware that Jason wouldn’t agree to spend time with him again without you. The fact Bruce was much nicer since you were together was also working in your favour. Alfred was approving of you too and he had personally asked all of the children to treat you well.

The children were also aware that Bruce would be very unhappy and disappointed with them all if things didn’t go well. It was obviously very important for him.

At first, everyone was a little bit silent and awkward. It was the first time a civilian was introduced to the whole family. And technically, they already knew a lot about you without knowing you, so they weren’t too sure how to act around you. They didn’t want to scare you off by showing they made research about you… and stalked you.

After a little while, you gently teased them all, saying that for vigilantes they were quite shy. It quickly put them at ease.

Things went actually a lot better than you thought and you could tell no one really believed you would that easily get along with the family. You felt Bruce relaxing through the dinner, his hand on your thigh under the table. His warmth helped you feel safer around everyone as well.

Soon enough they all were chatting around and asking you questions. It was a true interrogation but you didn’t mind. For once, you were the one answering questions and not the other way around. It was fun.

Damian was the only silent one. He wasn’t too sure how to deal with you. He didn’t need you. He wasn’t used to seeing his father around someone. He wasn’t too certain how to react when his father kissed the back of your hand with such love shining in his eyes. 

You noticed his uncertainty but you weren’t too worried about it. You knew you were fitting just right in there. You had never felt like that before, or just with your grandma. It was a nice change in your life. And you were really eager to start spending some time with all of them, like you were doing with Jason already.

You went to concerts with Dick. He wanted to go to those classic piano concerts but no one was eager to follow him. He had asked you, half certain you would politely decline his offer. But on the contrary, you had been more than happy to agree to come with him. Your eagerness warmed his heart. It had been a long time he hadn’t had a motherly figure in his life, and he knew you were fitting perfectly. Since then, whenever one of you wanted to go to a concert - no matter what kind - you had to go together. It was your thing. None of you went to so many concerts before, but it was a pretext to spend time together. You talked a lot before the concerts too and Dick could only agree with Jason: you were easy to talk to.

You played video games with Tim. You were waiting for Bruce to come back from patrol one night and you were bored out of your mind. You found Tim playing in the living room. At first, you just asked him if you could hang around. He agreed without thinking much of it, before offering you to play with him. He needed another player and no one else was around at that time. It appeared you were a gamer and you enjoyed fighting against one other. But you enjoyed working together on co-op games even more. You spent a lot of evenings with Tim on the couch, screaming together when you were losing or winning. Everyone knew better than to annoy the two of you when you were gaming.

You watched movies with Stephanie. Stephanie was clearly not too certain how to be around you. Things weren’t always easy with Bruce and after the way her parents betrayed her, she felt like she couldn’t trust adults any longer. But Jason loved you so much that she thought she could give you a chance. Watching movies allowed the two of you to bond, without having to interact too much at first. Then you started to talk a lot about what you just saw, and then about everything else. Watching movies snuggled up against you started to become Stephanie’s comfort zone and you were more than happy to give her that. Even though you were a tease, you never said anything when she fell asleep on you.

You took dancing lessons with Cassandra. It was clear the girl was a classic dancer; she was really amazing to watch. You loved to dance too, even though you never really took any kind of lessons, so you thought it would be a nice activity to do together. Cass instantly agreed. It allowed her to observe you and your body language. She had more fun than she thought, and she offered to keep going dancing together. You improved a lot thanks to her help and she liked to discover other kinds of dances thanks to you. You also came to watch her repetitions and her representations. She started to always look for you in the spectators, happy to be taken care of that way. 

You did puzzles with Duke. You started to spend a lot more time at the manor, even when Bruce wasn’t around. You were currently doing a mind game on the living room table as Duke went by. You started to chat around and you saw Duke was quite eager to play with you, so you invited him to settle by your side. Once you were done, he looked for a puzzle he hadn’t finished yet so you could do it together. When the weather was pretty bad in Gotham, you quite liked to get some hot cacao and to do puzzles with Duke. Because you both were pretty good with puzzles, you had to always find more challenging ones. Looking for them was also part of the fun.

For Damian, things were a little bit more difficult, as he made it clear, he had no interest in spending time with you. It hurt you a little more than you wanted to admit but didn’t say anything at first. You eventually went to an animal care centre open to the public with Damian and Bruce. Bruce offered for you to come with the two of them so his son could get used to your presence. He had noticed he was the only one who was avoiding you. Damian stayed cold to you for a long time, eyeing his father holding your hand with a frown until you let go of Bruce’s hand to come closer to the lions. You really loved the animals and Damian thought you couldn’t be that bad then. That evening, Alfred the cat fell asleep on your lap, so Damian started to be more polite to you. It was the first step. You started to bond over taking care of his pets.

You also met Barbara, Kate, Luke and Lucius. 

Kate and you instantly became friends because you were seeing things quite similarly. You also loved to tease everyone together. You had a real complicity between the two of you, and you often hang out together just for the sake of being together. And annoying everyone.

Barbara needed some time to trust you but she could tell you were a good addition to the family. She slowly warmed up to you. You didn’t take it personally and you showed a lot of patience. You were happy to be part of this group of amazing people, and Barbara couldn’t deny how kind you were to all of them.

Luke trusted Duke’s approval of you. You talked a lot around a drink in a bar in Gotham after Dick invited everyone for his birthday. You asked him questions about the army and the way veterans were taken care of. You promised him to do an article about it, which touched Luke a lot.

Lucius and you enjoyed talking together, as ones of the only civilians of the family, with Alfred. For Lucius, it was quite refreshing to be able to discuss with someone who was also shaking their head at the Batfamily’s antics. Lucius quickly saw how much of a good asset you could be for Wayne Enterprises as well and he hoped that at some point you would agree to help Bruce with it.

As months went by, you started to all know each other a lot more. And to start to love one another quite fiercely. You were their Batmon. You got confirmation of it when the children playfully and yet tenderly brought you a bracelet with the bat logo on it. You swore to always wear it.

--

PART 7

--

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Taglist for this series <3

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Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - The break up (Part VII)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

Reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

Warnings: no proof reading, ANGST, mentions of reader being threatened, mentions of kidnapping attempts, insecure reader, Bruce can't talk about his feelings for his own sake, reader doesn't pick the best of time to talk about their relationship, heartbroken!reader, heartbroken!Bruce

It had been officially 2 years you had been dating Bruce - almost 3 if you weren’t that stubborn to admit you were his girlfriend back then.

You were a member of the family, you were the matriarch, you had authority over everyone, and more importantly you were happy. You have everything you ever wanted: you had a big family who cherished you (and always kept an eye on you) and you were doing well in your career.

Everything was well, until things went very down.

It was as if Hell broke loose in Gotham. So many villains were out, doing their best to bring chaos and destruction in every part of the city. Everyone seemed so busy and Bruce had to cancel several of the moments you were supposed to have together. You also started to receive a lot of death threats because of what you were writing and because of whom you were dating. You almost got kidnapped twice in one week; thankfully one of the kids was always watching over you, when it wasn’t Bruce himself.

Even if you were grateful for that, you were feeling a little bit shameful that you couldn’t take care of yourself. You were their mother, it was your job to look after them, not the other way around. It reminded you how much you were “just” a civilian. You learnt how to use a gun in your childhood, so you could defend yourself, but you were still threatened quite a lot. Gotham had always been a hostile environment, but it was getting very bad lately.

Everyone was on edge; even at the galas. On top of that, it meant Bruce didn’t have the time to reassure and to comfort you like you wished he would. You needed him.

And you hated to see him and the children coming back home covered in injuries. You took care of them, when they let you do. You felt a little bit useless though, and you couldn’t even remember the last time you slept in Bruce’s embrace.

Not only did you need him to reassure that Gotham was going to do better soon, you really needed him to reassure you that he still loved you. You just needed him to let you know that you were still important to him. 

When you tried to ask him where your relationship was, he didn’t seem to be able to answer you. You took it for a proof that things weren’t going as well as you thought.

You were wrong.

Bruce was just very taken aback by your words. You knew his identity, you were almost fully living in the manor - actually if it was only his decision, you would have given your flat back already -, you were beloved by his kids and Alfred… You were each other’s longest relationship as well. Bruce was currently more busy with searching for the perfect way to convince you to marry him and to propose to you, than anything else. 

And that was why he hadn’t been able to reassure you; you weren’t acting like he thought you would. He didn’t think you were insecure about his love; wasn’t he showering you with gifts for all the dates he missed? Wasn’t he doing his best to pleasure you in between rough patrols? Wasn’t he making sure you were always safe?

It was true that work was currently killing him, between Wayne Enterprises and his Batman life, but you knew how things would be when you discovered everything and still decided to stay, right?

That night, you had decided to try again. You needed to talk with him, you needed to understand if your relationship was strong enough to survive Hell. You were lucky enough Bruce had found some time for having some dinner with you. But the man wasn’t ready for the discussion and wasn’t emotionally available. You still tried, because each day was getting harsher for you. 

For Bruce, it meant that for the first time in a long time, he had no control over your discussion and the more it was going on, and the more he could see how upset you were getting and how wrong he was answering. The man hadn’t slept in two nights and he had no idea that he simply needed to tell you he loved you to make things a little bit better between the two of you.

“And you know, Luke told me that as a civilian I should be more careful. And it’s not the first time I thought about it. I know I’m safe here, but maybe you shouldn’t be with a civilian… Bruce Wayne is often attacked, but what about the villains who might know your secret identity? I’m an easy target” you finally said

“I never said it wasn’t dangerous for you and this is why we always have an eye on you” Bruce replied, not too certain where it was leading. 

He wasn’t showing it but he was getting really stressed out by this discussion. He would have enjoyed eating his food quietly, but clearly you had a lot to get off your chest.

“So would it be better for you and I if we split up?” you finally said it and Bruce choked onto his drink

“What?”

“You already have so much work, all of you, and if you need to watch over me, it’s just some more stuff I’m adding to your very busy life. I was just wondering… Things seem a little bit difficult lately, and I don’t want to be a burden to you. Maybe it would be easier if you were with someone like Selina or Talia. Or just not with me at least.” you said. 

You loved Selina, you were actually good friends. You didn’t know Talia, just what Dick, Jason and Damian agreed to tell you, but both of the women seemed to be more fitting in Bruce’s way of life.

“I don’t understand what you want from me, Y/N” Bruce answered in a little more stern way than he would have liked it

“I just want to know if we’re still working, that’s all” you replied, a little bit defeated. 

You had forgotten the delicious food Alfred had cooked for the two of you since a long time ago. You couldn’t even drink water, your throat was getting too tight with sadness.

“If it’s not working for you anymore, I can’t force you to stay” Bruce simply replied, a little bit absentmindedly as he saw the batman logo flashing through the dark sky of Gotham. 

He absolutely didn’t mean it like that, he didn’t even realise what he said. He was needed somewhere else and he knew it was going to be another long and painful night. You noticed his attention was elsewhere and you tried not to cry when you saw what he was looking at.

“So we’re over?” you asked again, begging for some reassurance

“I need to go,” Bruce said without answering you. 

He hadn’t even heard you in reality. And he also needed to be out of this conversation. He couldn’t hear all of this tonight, not when his mind was already full of darkness and crime fighting. He didn’t want to realise that your relationship was getting damaged because he needed you more than anything. Especially now. But it wasn’t something he was able to tell you.

“Alright then. Take care, Bruce” you said as you got up.

As he was out, fighting goons and investigating crime scenes, he was going back through your whole conversation. He knew he fucked up, but he didn’t know how badly yet.

He didn’t realise it until he got a few hours of sleep, one shower and some food. 

He noticed how silent Alfred was the next morning. It wasn’t a peaceful silence. Bruce knew when Alfred was upset at him, they didn’t need words to understand each other.

“What’s wrong, Alfred?” he finally asked him

“I thought you would have tried a little bit harder to keep Lady Y/N one of us, master Bruce, that’s all” 

“What do you mean?” Bruce frowned

“She let me know before leaving last night that you two broke up” Alfred explained

Bruce didn’t react for a few moments. 

Did he lose his girl last night? Didn’t he realise how bad things were getting? When you asked if you should break up, you meant right away? It wasn’t a conversation, you were asking if he still wanted you in his life. And he didn’t answer, so you took it as a no. He had been so stupid.

He stopped eating his breakfast as he felt something break inside of him. Life couldn’t get that bad again. He couldn’t lose his haven, especially not now.

“Yes, I should have tried a little bit harder, indeed”

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PART 8

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Taglist for all my work <3

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Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

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Taglist for this series <3

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