𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚? | 𝙗𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
pattinson!bruce wayne x reader
warnings: fluff, mentions of violence, sfw
author’s note: based off of “r u mine?” by arctic monkeys. this is j a short lil thing about loving bruce & being someone who fought for everyone in gotham, but in a different way than batman & how it is a lil different than a normal relationship
also i’m high asf rn so this was not proofread i’m j in my bruce feels hopefully i don’t embarrass myself too badly with this one :) ok i’ve got the munchies i’ve g2g but enjoy besties!
word count: 1.4k
You were known for being kind and generous. Your family’s legacy was like a blooming orchid in the middle of Gotham’s dark concrete skyscrapers. Your family built housing for the homeless, taking advantage of Gotham’s real estate business. Greed was never a word associated with you or your family. While you come from this old-money name that’s been in Gotham for centuries, the biggest rule passed down through your family is to take care of others, especially those not taken care of by everyone else. “The people who are turned away are the ones we take in” is etched in Latin on your family’s mausoleum in the Gotham City Cemetery.
The entire city of Gotham knew your name and saw the sacrifices you made, along with how you shared what you had with those who needed it and even those who didn’t, they saw how giving you were and how the giving never seemed to stop.
But there was one thing — the thing that it hurt the most the share with the city and people of Gotham — one person: the Batman. He belonged to everyone, he was the protector of Gotham. A knight with more than just a sword and a suit of armor; his horsepower no longer came from just horses, he had the resources and the connections and the training. The Batman did not belong to just you.
But Bruce?
Bruce was all yours.
He was a recluse. The crown prince of Gotham rarely came out of his castle, barely even sparing the city a glance even though he could see all of it from his vast throne. He had responsibilities, sure, but you came first. That changed a little when the Gotham Project started. But what didn’t change was Bruce’s love and adoration for you. While your relationship wasn’t traditional, it was more than enough.
However, you couldn’t help but find yourself yearning for the boring, the mundane, the ordinary. The routine of waking up next to your lover, laying so close you can feel them smile. Brushing teeth next to each other in the mornings, making breakfast, doing chores and home restoration on your own, arguing about wet towels on the bathroom floor, get ready for bed together— it was something you and Bruce exchanged for the betterment of Gotham City.
You resented the parts of Gotham City that forced you to give up a long and happy, excitingly ordinary life with the person you loved.
You needed Batman, but Gotham City needed him more.
And so you shared everything you had with Gotham and its citizens, including the love of your life.
He would be gone so long that some nights you wouldn’t sleep. You’d hear the chime of the bell notifying you that he had pulled into the Batcave, and once you knew he was home you could not keep your eyes open a second longer. The majority of time he spent at home was spent down in the cave, working on the next plot to destroy another one of the dirty schemes that was about to wreak new havoc on the city. You couldn’t sleep without knowing he was safe. Eventually, you started to drink sleeping tea to assist you in sleeping and shutting your brain down for a while. Bruce hated the fact that you usually waited up for him, he hated the fact that you had to worry. But he knew that his job was worry-inducing. He knew that you just wanted to make sure that Gotham had not snuffed out another light.
“He does so much for them and they’ll never know,” you say while sitting across from Alfred at dinner, “sometimes I think even if they didn’t know they wouldn’t care.”
“Not everyone is corrupt, but people put in corrupt situations have to make tough choices. Most of the people in this city are just trying to survive.” Alfred comments. “You and I know that. So does he. I don’t really think he cares if they give thanks to the Batman, he doesn’t view himself as the sole savior of the city. He is, but he doesn’t see it that way: he knows Gotham’s doomed. But as long as he has a say in how doomed, he’ll keep fighting for it.”
“I wish Gotham could just… chill out for a few days. I barely see him anymore. I feel selfish about it, but I miss the days when it was just us in our own little corner of the world.”
“It’s not wrong to miss those moments, miss,” Alfred responded, an understanding smile on his face. “Loving someone and having to watch them leave is painful, no matter the circumstance. Especially yours and Master Wayne’s. You sacrifice a lot, the both of you. And while the whole city may not know about those sacrifices, the two of you do.”
“We do,” you confirm, “and it’s enough for me.”
—
That night, you crawled into bed, clad in one of Bruce’s t-shirts. It was two a.m. and he wasn’t home, and you tried to stay awake so you could see him for what was the first time in days. But you just couldn’t. You knew that you were too tired to give him your full attention, so you just pulled back the covers and slid into bed, snuggling up with your blankets and resting your head against the pillow, inhaling the familiar scent of Bruce. The aroma made up for his arms, and while a bit lighter still provided similar comfort.
It’s not until a few hours later when the fading scent is replenished, Bruce slipping into bed and immediately pulling you into his arms. He’s just showered, most likely took a few extra minutes to let the warm water massage his aching muscles. Your body awakens at the mere feel of him, your eyes opening as you adjust so you’re laying face to face with him, “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” Bruce responds, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. One of your hands comes up to wrap around his wrist and stroke the back of his hand with your thumb.
“Are you okay?”
Bruce takes a moment to respond, his eyes studying your face as if you’re surely to evaporate into thin air, “I’m okay,” he echos. And while the bruises he’ll wake up with tomorrow disagree with that statement, the warmth of your tired eyes and the comfort of your presence is what makes him okay, even after the worst nights fighting crime in Gotham.
You let out a sigh of relief, your eyes fluttering closed as he confirms it himself: he’s here, he’s okay, and he’s come back to you. That is all the confirmation you need, your eyelids fluttering shut almost involuntarily. Bruce presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, thinking to himself that it was those small check-ins every night before bed were always the best part of his day.
You wake up the next morning with your head on Bruce’s upper chest, tucked into the crook of his neck. His nose rests just on the crown of your head, you can feel the hairs up there move as he exhales peacefully through his nose. One arm lays next to his side, the other is wrapped around you. His fingers have the slightest grip on your arm, as if he’s worried you’ll leave while he’s asleep. His presence and touch makes you feel secure, makes you feel like you’re in the safest hands in all of Gotham. Which, you are, but Bruce made you feel that way before the Gotham Project.
Your fingers dance with the faintest steps across his chest, repeating soothing patterns and movements that have your own eyes fluttering. Before sleep catches you, Bruce pulls your consciousness back from its fall.
“Morning, my love,” he says, the words like silk.
“G’morning, Bruce,” you respond, nuzzling into his chest. “What time is it?”
“A hell of a lot later than normal, that’s for sure.”
You furrow your brow, looking up at him through tired eyes, “Doesn’t Gotham need you?”
Bruce cracks a smile, “Believe it or not, Gotham can wait until it gets dark out. So can the Batcave. It can all wait for today, as far as I’m concerned. I miss just being around you.”
You push yourself up with your forearms so that you’re hovering over his face, “Really?”
“I’m all yours.” Bruce says.
You lean down closer to him, your eyes gazing into his, “Are you mine?”
Bruce sighs, placing his hands on your cheeks, brushing his lips against yours, “Completely.”
And that’s enough for you.
