May 29
I crave gen-z/young millennial bruce wayne and gf raising a young dick Grayson, kind of inspired by this
seen from Germany
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seen from Iraq
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Romania
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Germany
I crave gen-z/young millennial bruce wayne and gf raising a young dick Grayson, kind of inspired by this
conflict of interest.
1,328 words, corenswet!clark kent x black!fem!reader x pattinson!bruce wayne, fluff
hala’s announcement ★ this entire post is meant for my self ship with corenswet’s clark kent & pattinson’s bruce wayne but it also acts as a fanfic so i thought why not post it? i’ll probably expand or tweak this idea as i develop this self ship more but i’m happy with this start! please excuse any mistakes and thank you for reading <3!
“do you not think it’s a conflict of interest that your boyfriend and girlfriend are the prince and heiress of gotham city?” lois questions while pouring a concerning amount of sugar in her small mug of what once was coffee.
clark sighs, flipping through the endless articles on his desk, nose perking up to catch his glasses from slipping once more.
"forget conflict of interest! how did you even get them to come out their shells? let alone date them?" jimmy jumps in, swiveling his chair over to join the interrogation.
he only finds himself in this situation because you'd dropped by the illustrious daily planet to give clark some articles he'd forgotten in his rushing haze to get to work on time. you remember watching him in a flurry of panic and heartache at the sight of you crawling out of bed to help him pack his things. there's a part of him that wishes he stayed in bed just a tad bit longer as he was still late despite his rush.
it was greatly uncommon to see you anywhere outside gotham's hold for anything other than business purposes. a few months ago, you'd taken a trip to metropolis for a political conference and the daily planet was lucky enough to catch you before you'd gone back into your gothic manor of a shell.
but this visit wasn't inspired by a political conference or any other wayne-related business dealing. metropolis wasn't due for another event until next month. the shock you sent through the floor once you took your first step off the elevator rivaled the electric feeling leftover after watching the flash zoom past. there you stood, in all black attire, brown skin soaking in the sun peeking through the windows, hovering above most of the buzzing journalists in metropolis' finest newsroom.
an intern is the first to meet you out the elevator. she accidentally runs into you while trying to catch up with their supervisor's quick movements.
"oh! i'm so terribly sorry," her words tumble out of her, increasing in pitch as she realizes whose attention she's caught. "oh my goodness, i'm so sorry! please don't tell my supervisor about this!"
"it's no worries, please don't be so nervous," your reply comes with a soft smile that seems to ease her nerves enough for her to walk away with less shame and embarrassment.
your heels against the marble floors don't cause as much distraction as your face weaving through the crowd of reporters does. clark hears you coming before he sees you. he always does. and yet, he's nice enough to allow you to come to him first. it's a surprise he welcomes.
"baby, you left your drafts at home," you hum, pulling the manila folder out from your purse.
a sigh of relief comes spilling out of him as he watches you place the folder on his desk. he'd been looking for this specific stack for at least an hour and a half, even asking jimmy if he'd seen it. a flash of worry dances across his face as he remembers all the important things you had to accomplish today and how he's taken up your time by forgetting his drafts at home.
"clark," you warn, taking the chance to place yourself on top of his desk, "it is no hassle for me to come up here. my meetings can wait,"
"and i do love to see you," he huffs at your comment, welcoming the kiss you press to his cheek that's sure to leave a dark cherry stain on his skin. "and bruce told me to say hello,"
at that, lois and jimmy pause to fully take in everything they're watching. gotham's finest and most-sought after couple are in the very hands of their dorky and oddly buff coworker. the same coworker who's known for saying 'what the hay' and 'good golly' while pushing up his comically large glasses. you're calling clark kent 'baby.' bruce wayne is asking him what color he wants his new office in the wayne manor to be painted. you're asking him what he wants for dinner. it's truly baffling.
they watch as the two of you giggle and chat for a few more minutes before you bid him a goodbye with a kiss. everyone watches as clark makes sure you get to the elevator safely, a giddy smile on his face as you wave goodbye one final time before the doors close. he turns, feeling the stares on his back, and cheeses.
it brings everything back to now. lois' heavily over-sweetened coffee, jimmy's swiveling chair, and clark's sheepish smile illuminating the remains of your dark cherry lip gloss on his dimples.
"so…are we not going to talk about what just happened?" lois is, of course, the first to cut through the silence.
clark's fingers drum on his desk as he replies, "we can if you want. i don't really mind,"
lois and jimmy share a look of confusion, watching as he types away at his computer. their eyes communicate a struggle of where and how to start interrogating clark about what they just witnessed.
"do you not think it’s a conflict of interest that your boyfriend and girlfriend are the prince and heiress of gotham city?" lois starts, the best way she knows how: through questioning.
"forget conflict of interest! how did you even get them to come out their shells? let alone date them?" jimmy exclaims, waving his hands above his head in disbelief.
clark hums, turning to face the two. before he can even speak, a smile dances on his face at the feeling of your leftover gloss sticking to his skin. lois' fake heave brings him back to his senses. as a well-rounded storyteller, clark tells them everything, except for his extraterrestrial origins and the red and blue suit hidden in his briefcase.
from the gala wayne interprises had thrown, which most reporters were invited to, including jimmy and lois, to the moment it suddenly turned into the prince and heiress of gotham taking clark kent on a date gliding through gotham's nighttime.
"so the lady gotham approached you?" lois questions, eyebrow raised in suspicion. "at their gala?"
"are you surprised she did?" the hint of sass in clark's tone makes lois chuckle.
"clark, it's the lady gotham, let's not kid ourselves here," jimmy buts in, "even if she's seen more than bruce wayne, she talks even less than he does about anything personal-related and that's surprising in and of itself."
"exactly, so she just approached you?" she repeats her question, and clark sighs.
"yes? it wasn't really complicated," he admits, shifting his eyes away from the moving sun. "she asked me about a recent article i'd written and wanted to talk more about it over tea."
"tea?…at seven o'clock at night?"
"she doesn't drink alcohol."
"and bruce wayne just went with you two too?" jimmy chimes in, twirling a pen between his fingers.
"yep."
"and you don't think it's a conflict of interest?"
"i don't report on gotham city so i don't see that much of a problem here," clark replies, leaning toward his computer screen to reread a sentence he just can't seem to get right.
"even if there is a conflict, you're the first to let anyone know, lois," jimmy adds, leaning back into his chair.
lois only hums, somewhat content with jimmy's addition before rolling back to her cubicle. soon, jimmy follows suit, and clark's left marking the article on his screen with sentences he'll read over with you and bruce later tonight. he looks forward to going home and seeing you wait for him with your own set of papers to sort through, bonnet and one of their shirts on, and a cup of white tea in hand. bruce comes later in the night, possibly battered and bruised but it's nothing you or clark can't heal. it's nothing the three of you can't do together.
© 2025 NAHDRAS. please do not copy, modify, profit from, or translate my content and do not feed it to ai. all rights are reserved to me.
how do u think battinson shows affection ?? 🤔 since he's literally a sopping wet cat of a man and not the best as socializing, one would think physical affection but is he too awkward for that even ? what do u think ??
battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader
okay okay!! so I think for bruce wayne, acts of service is a big one in terms of showing affection!! mostly because he can just do them quietly, if you know what I mean? he doesn’t have to make a big show out of it, doesn’t even have to tell you he’s gonna do them. he’ll just iron your clothes for you without you having to ask, buy your favourite shampoo when he notices you’re running out, tie your shoes before you leave the house together, take your heels off for you after a date. just so many quiet, sweet acts of service that he doesn’t even really think about, he just does them because he loves you and he cares. he gets shy when you confront him about it, though. like, you’ll find he’s restocked all your skincare and hair products and you’ll hunt him down and be like, “bruce, honey, you didn’t have to,” pushing up on to your toes to kiss him. he gets all red around the ears and pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about <3
as for physical affection, I think yes he enjoys giving it and receiving it but it’s gotta be at the right time! given how protective he is, he’ll hold your hand in public or almost always have one of his big hands on your hip or the small of your back to guide you, but nothing much more than that. when you’re alone he likes it a lot more, especially if you’re the one giving it. he’s not often the one to initiate hugs or cuddles, it’s almost always you. but you don’t mind, because he never rejects you what you want. he’s a bit awkward about it, especially in the beginning, never knowing what to do with his hands (should he rub your back or stroke your hair or just keep them still??) but once he’s more used to it he’s a really good hugger. his broadness helps too <3
still, his favourite thing is when you initiate the cuddling because it makes him feel really loved and wanted! and then he’ll cuddle back. when you climb in his lap and tuck your chin over his shoulder, he’ll rub your back and you all but melt on top of him. you’ll be lying half on top of him in bed, stroking his cheek lovingly, and he’ll take your hand in his and press his mouth to your fingertips. when you’re massaging his shoulders after a long night, or pushing his hair from his forehead when it’s in his eyes, he’ll give your hip a squeeze as a thank you. it’s almost like, your affection makes him brave enough to reciprocate it. and it honestly means a lot, coming from him. your awkward grumpy touch-starved boy <3
expensive things (b.w)
summary - when you start secretly dating bruce wayne, gordon starts worrying about where you got all these new expensive things [w.c 5k]
warnings - mentions of blood, injury, and gordon thinking the reader has a sugar daddy lmao, kissing <3
a/n - this was written w battinson in mind, but technically can b read for any batman I think?
main masterlist
bruce wayne masterlist
Bruce Wayne.
How could you describe him?
Self-centered? Loner? Smart? A bit Over the top? Shy? Handsome?
The last one made your heart leap in your chest when you thought about it. But you didn't think he liked you this way. No, to him you were most likely just his good only friend from high school, the only friend who he had somehow managed to keep for so long.
You weren't part of the high society of Gotham and had a tad of a passion for investigations. Sometimes you even thought your talent for quick conclusions spooked Bruce, causing him to push you away lately.
But then you met The Batman, and he left you and your little heart to be torn in pieces.
Your passion to play detective had landed you a good job as James Gordon's assistant, making you his right-hand woman when handling Batman-related things.
And of course, what you felt like Bruce didn't see in you, you felt like Batman did. When Bruce would often put you aside when things got rough, when you tried to help with your detective skills. Well, Batman seeked your help. He trusted you. He didn’t push you away from a mission, or didn’t push you away when things got rough.
And now you felt yourself list all the ways you could describe him.
Smart? Loner? A bit over the top? Trusting? Handsome?
Now you had to take a minute to rethink. Handsome? You had never seen the top of his face.
But your mind travelled to the times when he made eye contact with you. When his piercing grey eyes made your heart do flips and turn your stomach upside down. Your mind travelling to how his voice brought shivers down your shoulders. How his jaw line contrasted with the black of his cowl.
Fuck.
You had a crush on both Batman and Bruce Wayne. Batman had torn your heart in two, leaving you to doubt your feelings and being a mess in front of both.
The worst part was, that Batman flirted with you all the time. Even to the extent that Gordon would ask him to stop and to ask you out already, or simply stop for his own sake.
But everything became less confusing when Batman came tumbling down your window, all bloody and bruised up.
You panicked, the sudden noise making you jump awake and aware. You had been dosing off while writing a report and his sudden arrival made you wide awake. You grabbed the knife you always kept under your desk and quickly turned around, your face dropping at the sight.
Batman had fallen onto your white carpet in a pool of his own blood.
"Holy shit" You dropped your knife and came near him, crouching to get a better sight.
You placed a hand on his shoulder, slowly turning him around to see the half of his face that wasn't covered by the mask.
"Y/n-" He mumbled.
"Bats what happened?" You frowned, trying to calm your own panic down before scanning his body to see his hand clutching his side. The pannels of his suit had been destroyed to reveal black fabric soaked in blood. The side of his face was badly bruised and blood was smeared on his chin.
"Bad guys" He groaned trying to keep his eyes open.
"I'll be right back." You frowned again before standing up and making a mental list of what you had to grab; towels, warm water, your first aid kit, bandages...
You thought that maybe you should call Gordon, or a Doctor? No. You couldn't bring him to the hospital...
You breathed. You could do this.
You came back to him, your heart beating like lighting as you saw him sprawled in a starfish position, still in the same spot beneath your window. He was muttering something under his breath that you tried to understand but couldn't seem to make out, maybe trying to keep himself from passing out.
"Are you ok to move, bats?" You asked carefully and he tried to nod. "I at least need you to sit up against my bed, ok?"
He listened, and with your help he was sat up, his head resting against the bed as you held his shoulders. You analyzed him carefully until you spotted the bloody area.
"I'll probably have to take your shirt off, bats. Is that ok?" You touched the side of his armor and looked at him. His bright eyes looked back at you and he nodded before closing them back again.
"Never thought you'd be the one to undress me first."
"Shut up and let me work." You bit back a smile, the flirty comment reassuring you that he would be fine. You frowned again when he winced at your touch.
Each piece of armor was carefully dropped against your already stained carpet until only the thin black shirt was revealed to you. It was already torn into pieces from the fight, making the removal easier.
"I hope you own more black shirts."
"You'd be surprised." He attempted a smile but gave out a big 'oof' instead as you started patching him up, the gash on his side too distracting to make you blush at the sight of his toned body or even think about who was under the suit just by how his abs looked.
You had one mission; save him so he didn't die on your bedroom floor.
"I'm sorry." He broke the silence.
"For?" You didn't look up from the wound as you replied.
"Coming here, like this..."
"Bats, you know it's alright-"
"You're the only one I trust, Y/n/n" He cut you off, the nickname rolling off his lips as if he had been saying it all his life, making you lift your gaze up to meet his. You didn't know what was different about this, maybe the way he used your nickname for the first time, or the haze in his voice. But you felt your blood rush to your cheeks more than it already had.
Maybe it was a tiny bit more than a crush...
"What about Gordon?" You attempted.
"He doesn't know me like you do." Your hands stopped moving and your eyes kept focus on his face, trying to figure out what he meant.
That was a lie. Gordon had started to work with Batman even before you had arrived in the G.C.P.D.
You didn't seem to know what to reply, and the eye contact was getting longer by the second.
Batman grunted as he leaned on one arm to scoot closer to you, his other hand attempting to reach yours. He tried to focus all his strength on sitting up without resting against the bed - making you grab the side of his arm so he wouldn't fall over.
"I'm sorry about being so distant lately." He whispered, and if you weren't so close you might have not been able to hear him.
His words might have confused you, but something about the change in his voice felt so familiar, so comfortable - as if you had known him your entire life...
Before you could think of something to say or wonder what he meant, his lips were on yours.
Your eyes went wide open until you registered what was going on. Your eyelashes brushed his face as you closed your eyes, gripping his arm to deepen the kiss.
Your other hand wrapped around his neck as his held your waist. You subconsciously reached to place a hand in his hair but were quickly stopped by the edge of his cowl, making you come back to earth.
You didn't know who you were kissing...
But damm it felt nice.
As if he had read your mind, he pulled away - eyes scanning your face for any reaction, but all he could see was your hesitation to kiss him again.
With a small sigh, he kissed your cheek and slowly brought his hands to his cowl.
"Wait-" you took his wrist in yours. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean-" He shut you up with a kiss.
"Yes." He mumbled, squeezing one of your wrists.
He took one of your hands in his making you reach for the edge of his mask. The fabric felt smooth and almost cold under your skin, contrasting with the warmth of his hand on top of yours.
He closed his eyes and took a breath, you blinked slowly - the moment almost feeling like slow motion as he made your hand hook with the back edge of the cowl and slowly slipping it off.
It was a staring contest as it slowly moved away from his face.
Your breath caught in your throat.
The same grey eyes that you had been staring at your entire life were staring back at you.
"Bruce." You whispered and he leaned against you, faces inches apart. Your breath was caught in your throat, and all you could do was keep your gaze on his.
Somehow it made sense. The way Bruce had been more distant. The little times you saw him he seemed more sleep deprived than usual and less talkative. More reserved.
Batman, on the other hand, he was everything Bruce had been during your childhood. Cheeky jokes and sarcastic comments with more flirting and a good extra dose of charm.
"I wanted to tell you" he stopped to sigh "for so long."
Your brain moved faster than you could comprehend and your lips were on his again. Shushing him with a kiss, trying to tell him it was ok, that you loved him, but also trying to convince yourself that he felt for you just as much.
You pulled away, and smacked his chest with the back of your hand.
"Ow!" He whined, "what was that for?"
"Not telling me sooner" before he could reply you kissed him again, but the kiss was broken by your growing smiles.
"So I take it you like me as well?" He raised an eyebrow and your eyes went wide.
"Like you as well? Bruce, I’ve been head over heels for you since high school"
And the rest was history.
It would be a lie to say that Gordon didn’t notice a change. You started coming to work with a grin and a small step to the way you walked. You seemed happier, more at peace.
It didn’t take him long to figure out.
And it only took a month for you to actually say it.
You were planning a mission with Batman, and like always: his flirting was annoying Gordon, but today in particular he didn’t seem in the mood to take it anymore.
Gordon's head was bowed over the map while you looked at it, trying to figure out where to put the little figurines of you and Batman to show where you would position yourselves to spy on your next mission. You smiled a little to yourself as you remembered going into the toy store and finding a little Batman stocked in the corner of a shelf.
Batman was collecting information via his computer, trying to focus on the little information you gad until a light smirk covered his lips when you slightly bent over the table to place the toy in your hand on the map.
"You look good in those jeans." He smirked.
You felt heat come to your cheeks and eyed him with a furious look. His flirts were only growing bolder since the two of you were together, and you 1. didn't want Gordon thinking something was going on between you two and 2. getting embarrassed in front of your boss.
Gordon who had way pass enough his tolerable dose of flirts for the night lightly slammed his hand on the table and glared daggers at Batman.
"Can you please cut the flirting, please" Your boyfriend raised his hands up in defeat.
"Yeah." You chimed in. "I should warn you, my boyfriend wouldn't like it" You gave him a cheeky smile and eye contact only he could decipher.
"I'm sure I could take your boyfriend down easily"
"You think so?" You teased.
Boyfriend
Gordon wasn't wrong, you had someone.
"I didn't know you had a boyfriend." Gordon thought at loud, his curiosity breaking the coded bickers between you and Batman.
"Oh yeah, I forgot haven't told you." You look back down at the map in a poor attempt to change the subject.
"How long have you two been together?"
"About a month." You nodded.
"What does he do for a living?"
"What is this? An interogation?" You looked up at Gordon who looked like he had been caught in the middle of a heist.
"I just want to know who you're dealing with-" You wanted to laugh at his choice of words and side-eyed Bruce who was trying his best to keep himself out of the conversation.
"My relationship is not a criminal case, Gordon. He's a great guy that I really like, and can you accept the fact that maybe I don't want to tell who he is just yet?"
"Why?"
"Because if you knew you would make a full case file on him. And don’t act like I didn’t see files of my ex opened on your computer after I told you his name back when we started dating."
"You did that?" Batman chimed in with a light chuckle.
"You're not in this conversation." Gordon snapped.
"Just please, trust me."
And even though you knew he didn’t, at least he stopped asking questions.
Until four months later where his worries increased.
And who’s fault was that?
Your dear boyfriend who kept showering you with gifts and expensive things.
"Bruce, you have to stop" you made a desperate face as your thumb glided over the fabric of the Versace heels he had just gifted you.
"I saw you eyeing them when I was getting a new suit" he gave you a light smirk as he watched you bit your lip. Your words might have told him the contrary but he knew you were fan girling over these shoes and couldn't wait to wear them.
"I love them but, babe, you have to stop." You whined as you put the shoes back in their box and went to peck his lips.
"My closet is becoming fuller and fuller of designer clothes and people around me are starting to notice" you squeezed his shoulder a bit. "I even feel like Gordon is starting to get suspicious"
"Then don’t go to work in the things I gift you"
"Bruce, it has taken over my entire closet"
And exactly a week later, your predictions came true.
"Y/n, Im worried about you." Gordon stopped you as you were heading out of the building.
"Umm ok?" You blinked, holding onto your phone a bit tighter in your hand. It was late, you had a diner reservation and Bruce's car was parked a block away, waiting for you.
"Well…" Gordon shifted his weight from feet to feet, sighing before digging both his hands in his pockets and looking at you. "I’m not going to deny that you look… happier."
You raised an eyebrow as you tried to guess where he was going with his statement.
"But, this man you’re dating, he’s been giving you an awful lot of fancy gifts" he pointed to your brand new Burberry coat and the expensive heels you were wearing. Not to mention that he didn’t spot the thousand dollar dress you were wearing under the beige fabric. You were speechless, almost instantly knowing where he was going with this. "And.. I can see that he makes you happy I just- I’m worried that- and of course I trust you, I know you don’t let yourself be seduced by fancy things- but” He took a breath for courage. "I’m worried he’s got a grip on you with gifts- and-"
"Are you worried that I have a sugar daddy?" You tried to hold a laugh.
"Well- I wouldn’t-"
"Gordon." You put a hand up to his shoulder. "Please do not worry" you let you a short laugh at his antics. "He’s my age. And I’ve known him forever" you bit your lip so another laugh wouldn’t escape you.
Gordon’s eyes seem to soften as you explained.
"Trust me, I ask him not to get me all this" you pointed down to your clothes. "But that’s just who he is, I guess" you smiled a bit as you thought to the little meaningless fight you’d have over gifts. "So no, I am not a sugar baby" you chuckled as the words left your lips.
"That’s good." A tight lip smile fell across his features and a short silence lingered, you knew he wanted a name, to put a face on the one who would make you late for work, make you mindlessly smile when you thought of him, the one that bought you all these new things you kept changing into after work.
"I know you want his name" you broke the silence. "But not yet." You shook your head. "I promise you’ll find out and can make your police report on him to make sure he’s a good guy for me or whatever-"
"I wasn’t-"
"Gordon we both know-"
"Fine but-"
"Please trust me on this one. As I’ve said, I’ve known him forever. He’s a good guy, but I just can’t tell you yet." Your phone buzzed as you said that, a red heart filling the space for the name.
"He’s waiting for me." You smiled as you showed him your phone, Gordon sighed before moving and letting you through to the front door. "I’ll see you tomorrow."
~
Your 6 months anniversary was supposed to be perfect.
Perfect.
And apart from the rain that was pouring out onto Gotham, nothing could stop this moment from being amazing.
You were both sitting at a restaurant that gave out a beautiful view of the city. Its skyline almost looked even more beautiful with the rain hitting the river and making the street lights flicker.
You were deep into conversation, half of your appetizers already gone as you let the night take its course.
Those big grey eyes were looking back at you as you smiled, it was almost intoxicating how much you were falling more and more in love with him by the second. Everything about the way he was with you was warm and brought you comfort. He somehow felt like home, a home that you could find refuge to forever. Even with the over-exaggerated amount of gifts that you knew you couldn't level up with.
Everything was quiet, you could barely hear the chatter from the other guests, your table being too far and too hidden from the rest of the big room, to hidden for anyone to even notice the prince of Gotham was there.
You were about to break the short loving silence that had slithered itself into the evening. About to express the burning feeling in your heart-
but of course your work phone cut you.
"You can’t be serious?" you sighed and a short ugh sound left your lips as you threw your head back in desperation, Bruce frowned.
You had specifically told Gordon not to call you in case it was a big, batman level emergency.
He melted a bit in his seat at the thought of this night getting cut off by some Batman business, he started picking at the W engraved cufflink as he watched your face for a reaction to the call.
"Hello?" You heard muffled noises. Sounded like car tyres and an engine, maybe even the heavy rain ringing in the distance.
"Y/n-" the sound became less muffled, and suddenly you heard gunshots. Bruce watched as your face twisted with horror.
"I need you to meet me at the bat-signal, now. Light it up, I’ll be there when I can."
"Gordon what is happening? Are you ok?"
"Yes, I will be. I have to go-" more confusing sounds came from the other side of the line until it was cut by silence, and Bruce’s voice.
"What happened?"
"I- I don’t know- I heard guns, he was in a car- he- he told me to meet him at the bat signal, light it up. It sounded really bad"
He had that calm collected look he always did when he was trying analyse the situation and his next moves.
"Alright let’s go."
He took your hand as you walked back to the counter. You chewed on your bottom lip in anxiety as you tried to figure out what could have possibly happen to Gordon while Bruce figured out the entire paying and getting his jacket and your bag back from the coat check. You barely heard him ask for his car keys instead of someone bringing his car to him, something about being in a hurry.
But now you had other worries.
Spring had called to you being dressed in a long sleeveless dress and shiny heels, not only will you be meeting Gordon like this but your shoulders were barely covered for the rain.
And of course, the parking had to be in another building, leaving you to walk a block in the rain. You heard Bruce mumble a complaint about how this fancy restaurant could at least have a parking in the same building.
The second you were met with the flooding rain he shrugged his jacket off and laid it on your shoulders despite your resistance.
The leather of the car ended up getting soaked, so did your dress and Bruce's jacket that was now securely wrapped around your shoulders. Bruce was soaked just as much as you, his hair was unevenly poking around like the back of a hedgehog.
The two of you would have probably laughed at the situation if this had been different, but right now his eyes were focused on the road and yours on trying to get news from Gordon.
The bag signal lit up in the sky as your answer. He probably was already there, safe and away from who ever was chasing him before.
"What an anniversary."
"Tell me about it."
He parked right in front of the abandoned building, watching you as you slipped the sleeves of his jacket on, an attempt at shielding yourself from the storm that was waiting for you outside of his sports car.
"I’ll see you in a few minutes" you leaned your forehead against his.
"I love you" he mumbled before kissing your lips and reluctantly letting you go. He made sure you were inside before firing up his engine.
Gordon looked pissed.
The side of his jacket was ripped out, his glasses were crooked, he was dripping with rain just like you, and he was pacing around like a maniac, mumbling things as he did.
The sound of your heels came before your voice.
“What in the world happened?"
His wide eyes scanned your figure for a second and you realised he had noticed your outfit.
Of course he would
“I didn’t have time to change, I was at a restaurant.” You defended, bringing Bruce’s vest a little closer to your body as a shiver passed down your spine from the accumulated rain.
“I’m sorry I cut your evening” he sounded really desperate, not mad at you or frustrated that you came into work dressed in clothes more expensive than 3 months worth of both your paychecks united and heels that would definitely made you unable to run in case of emergencies.
"It’s alright, I just want to know." You pleaded again, taking a step closer to him.
"I found them, the base we have been searching for. I found half of their crew trying to smuggle something- I don’t know what yet, but it’s at least another clue. I know where they’re hiding now. But as I made my way out one of their guys spotted me-" he continued explaining the goose chase that had been going on while you were at diner. You carefully took in the information, trying to piece out the puzzle of this case.
You thought that maybe this would lead you to the Joker, or some other villain trying to put any version of your boyfriend’s head on a spike as well as rule Gotham’s darkest corners.
As he finished up his story, there he was, Batman. The shadow you had fallen in love with, a different version of him from the one you had been with barely 10 minutes ago.
"Nice fit" he looked at you up and down, not bothering to cover the way he was checking every piece of you out - and if you weren't dating the man behind the suit you would have probably wished you could disappear into a puddle with the rain.
"What are we here for?" He asked as if he hadn't known the danger Gordon had been in 20 minutes prior.
"Found them, they chased me around, I need you to bring us back to the station, I had to crash my car so they would stop following me" He winced at the memory. "We need to figure out what they want and what they're dealing so we can attack again. " He removed a usb plug from his pocket.
"What's that?" you frowned.
"clues"
You had forgotten how being in the Bat mobile felt. It was almost like a race car but everything was ten times more intense. You thought it might have even been similar to how formula one drivers felt. A swarm of buttons covered the dash, and when the inside of the car lit up, you remembered you'd have to be in the cramped back seat. Half of the space had been taken by version engines. You didn't even know if you could call this a seat.
"Sorry, princess," Batman mumbled as he opened his door and moved his seat forward so you could climb in the back. "Promise I'll give you a better ride next time." He winked and you wanted to hit him in the ribs to stop, but you quickly realized that it would be really dumb to do when he had his suit on.
That's when Gordon noticed the shiny button of Bruce's jacket that you still wore. Your hand was placed on top of the car as you made a movement to get in, the street light was reflecting on it.
His eyes focused on the engraved letter on the button.
W
He closed his eyes as he realized.
How could he have been so blind?
'I've known him forever' your words came back to him.
You were dating Bruce Wayne.
Of course, you were.
The gifts, the fancy dates, the wishing to keep the relationship a secret.
He snapped out of his realization and slid into the passenger seat of the batmobile, a smirk lighting up his features.
~
"You need a ride?" Batman offered as you yawned. You smiled as you put a file back in a cupboard. It was 3 am, you were finally satisfied with what you had come up with: a small plan that consisted of the three of you kidnapping the main boss and getting the information out of him.
Gordon looked up from his glasses before you could answer.
"I need to talk to her alone before, I'll give her a ride. Sorry Bats." He gave him a tight slip smile and you could see Bruce trying to keep his expression neutral.
"That's alright" He nodded, giving you a 'i'll be waiting for you at your place' look "I'll see you guys around."
"Bye bats"
Before he was even out the door you opened your phone to text him.
"One second I'm just texting my-"
"Bruce Wayne?" He took the words out of your mouth.
"What?" You froze.
How did he figure it out? was all your mind could play as you tried to find words to get out of this.
"Your boyfriend, Bruce Wayne." He folded his arms.
"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Don't change the subject, Y/n" You swallowed as you knew there was no good way out of this.
"No?" It sounded like more of a question. "I'm not dating Bruce Wayne- he's- he's my friend."
"Right the friend who you went to diner with and came back with his jacket" He pointed to the vest you were still wearing.
Your eyes went wide and you noticed the W buttons.
Great.
"I promise I was going to tell you- I was just waiting-"
"Y/n, it's alright."
"What?"
"I get why you haven't told me, and I promise you that this time I won't make a file on him" He smiled a bit.
"You're not mad?"
"No?"
"Why are you smiling you usually hate my boyfriends"
"Y/n. You're a family friend, I've known you since you were a kid. But you forget I've known him since he was a kid." He pointed out. "The two of you weirdly fit together, Bruce is a good guy, I approve"
"You do?" You stayed baffled for a few seconds. 'Well that went better than expected'
"So you will stop asking me questions about my relationship?"
"Yes"
"Oh thank god."
"But just one condition, you ask Batman to cut off with the flirting or else I'm calling your boyfriend to tell him what's happening when he isn't around." That made you smile.
"Alright, I will"
be added to my taglist
a/n - this idea came up when I was talking w a mutual about just how much bruce would spoil the reader if they were together and she was like a girly w a 'common job' in Gotham, and then this idea popped up and just hehe
Robert Pattinson as Bruce Wayne/ the Batman in "The Batman" (2022)
darkness and light | battinson x oc
Summary: Bruce Wayne had given up all attachments. It just made his double life easier. And tonight, he has to go to an art auction as himself to snoop on the Penguin. Only he meets someone he doesn't quite expect. (wc: 3811)
Warnings: alcohol mention, wet cat bruce wayne, i think that's about it tho
✎……MASTERLIST || NEXT CHAPTER
There were some things that he just couldn’t do as Batman. Like going to this art auction to get some information on the Penguin’s motives for being there at all — especially after the drug ring shakeup that the takedown of Maroni caused. What could possibly be at this auction that the Penguin wanted when the entire underbelly of Gotham was scrambling for power. Bruce needed to find out.
Alfred was just happy that he was getting out of the house.
The auction was being held at one of the estates just outside the city limits. The grand limestone mansion was lit up with spotlights — the fountain at the center of the circular drive practically sparkling in the artificial light as dusk fell over the Gotham countryside. It seemed that nearly all of Gotham’s elite were in attendance tonight. The most influential families, the DA, the police commissioner, even the mayor and his wife. Bruce couldn’t remember which one of them actually owned the mansion, however.
He pulled up to the front steps and the valet seemed shocked when he stepped out of the car. Bruce did have a reputation as a recluse these days, but he had been hoping for the surprised stares to be saved for when he got inside, not as soon as he opened his car door. He flashed the valet a small smile and handed over his keys, along with a generous tip. The valet chuckled as he got to work, pocketing the money quickly. Bruce adjusted his black suit jacket as he looked around at the other party-goers walking in.
Fine ladies dressed in even finer evening gowns, glittering in the dying light. Distinguished gentlemen either stepped out for a smoke or escorting their chosen partners inside. The whole thing was a very usual Gotham-elite affair. He remembered going to plenty of things like this with his parents and being bored out of his mind.
Bruce nearly winced. He wished he would’ve appreciated those times more.
As he walked inside he avoided the open-mouthed stares and whispers of his name behind his back. He probably should start going to more of these functions. But he could barely stand them or the people usually in attendance. It would certainly make Alfred happy if he did.
The front doors were wide open and Bruce walked right inside — welcomed by the sound of soft violin music, the smell of canapes and chardonnay, and the idle chatter of socialites coming from the ballroom further inside the mansion. He ordered a ginger ale from the open bar in the foyer to pass off as whiskey. Then he made his way into the ballroom where the art was being displayed and would later be auctioned off one piece at a time.
The ballroom in this mansion was immaculate. Nearly pulled from a Jane Austen novel. Marble floors, great white pillars reaching up to the heavenly painted ceiling, a balcony ran along the western wall where the band was situated — along with a few guests looking for a bit of seclusion. Waiters weaved through the mid-sized crowd with flutes of champaign and trays full of finger foods. Beautifully dressed people stood around laughing and chatting without a care in the world — blissfully unaware or too important to care about what was going on in their own city.
Just inside the ballroom entrance was a table stacked with pamphlets outlining the paintings to be auctioned. Bruce grabbed one and quickly skimmed the names of the paintings and artists. His eyebrows lifted when he noticed that there was only one artist listed. He glanced around the room — there were at least fifteen paintings up for auction tonight, and they were all by the same artist.
L. M. Vance, whoever they were, was going to make absolute bank this evening.
Bruce wandered over to the first painting on the right side of the ballroom, keeping an eye out for Penguin while also trying not to make eye contact with anyone. If he caught eyes with any of these bureaucrats he was a dead man who would be forced to talk to them about money and grants and Wayne Foundation funding. Something he was utterly unprepared for and would never be prepared for. He sipped his ginger ale as he looked at the painting, his focus really on his peripherals as he continued his search for the Penguin.
“Do you think the artist was being too forward with their statement here?” a feminine voice asked from beside him.
He sighed in annoyance. Someone had caught him. Bruce looked over to find a woman standing next to him with her head cocked to one side. He had never seen her before. Her brown hair was done up in a simple bun at the base of her skull, a few loose hairs framing her face. She wore a satin blue slip dress with buttons up the front, plain in comparison to some of the gowns he had seen the other women wearing that evening. She didn’t look up at him, only continued to stare at the painting, and for a moment he wondered if she was even talking to him. There were other people around surely, but no one close enough for this mystery woman to be talking to them. Everyone around them, in fact, seemed preoccupied in their own conversations, leaving the two of them as alone as you could get at a socialite auction.
Huffing slightly, he finally took in the painting before him. He didn’t want to be rude to this woman, after all.
Bruce was suddenly struck with a feeling he couldn’t describe. The painting’s subject was clear. It was Gotham. At the bottom, a filthy dark street lined with the homeless and deprived, but moving up the building there were small vignettes in each of the windows. A couple struggling. A family eating a meal together. A celebration. A loss. A heartbreak. Love. Joy. Sorrow. Mundanity. It was all there. Every aspect of the city of Gotham was there. The statement of the piece was clear.
“No,” Bruce finally replied, “No — I don’t think it’s too forward.”
“No?” the woman answered, “I mean, they named the piece The People of Gotham. It’s like the artist is throwing their whole theme in your face.”
“Well, when you’ve got a good theme.”
He looked over at her when she laughed. Really took in her face — in the back of his mind hoping he could look back at the footage from his contact lens later. Her face was pale, freckled, barely any makeup adorning her large brown eyes. Bruce had to admit she was rather beautiful. His eyes were quick as they observed her. She stood casually beside him, clearly used to the elite crowd. But her dress was simple, so not from money herself. There was a paint smear on the inside of her wrist — missed in the shower. An aspiring artist maybe? An avid appreciator of L. M. Vance perhaps?
“Are there any other paintings you’re interested in this evening?” she asked with a small smile.
Without even really knowing what he was doing, Bruce drifted over to the next painting along the wall. He heard her heels clicking along behind him as the woman in blue followed him. A smaller piece in a simple frame — the reference photo the painting was so clearly based on hung beside it. He knew the picture well. It sat on one of the many shelves in his father’s office. But the painted rendition took some liberties. Embellished the rising sun as nearly a beacon in the top right corner.
“The construction of Wayne Tower,” Bruce muttered as he inspected the painting.
“The photographer nearly died to capture this moment. Wayne Tower was the tallest building in the city for nearly thirty years. But he thought this little nugget of history was worth capturing at the risk of his own life,” the woman said, “When the Waynes came to Gotham it brought the city hope. And I think they still do…In some way.”
She has no idea who I am, he thought. And it nearly comforted him, in some strange way. Any time he left his house without the Batsuit on, it felt like everyone was staring at him, questioning him, waiting for him to mess up. Cameras followed him around and people asked him questions he felt he didn’t have the time for. But here in this moment, in a ballroom full of people who knew exactly who he was, he was anonymous to this woman. This woman who looked over at him with a dimpled grin and a glint in her eye.
“Do you know L. M. Vance?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. We’re very close, actually.”
A sudden, unexpected pang of jealousy hit Bruce’s heart. What the hell? He just met this woman — he didn’t even know her name. Yet the very idea of her being with someone else made his insides feel rotten. Bruce didn’t realize how captured he had become by this woman until that moment. In all the time they had been talking, he hadn’t been looking for the Penguin at all.
“Are — Are you his apprentice or something?”
“Something like that,” she said, cocking her head to one side with a knowing smile Bruce didn’t quite understand.
“Sloane!” Someone called.
It was Mayor Mitchell with his wife on his arm — towing behind him Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin. Bruce kept his eyes on the painting before him so as not to arouse suspicion.
The woman in the blue dress turned with an interested look.
Sloane. Her name was Sloane.
“Mayor Mitchel! How are you this evening?” she asked, her voice mellow and relaxed.
“I’m doing well — this auction tonight has been just beautiful,” Mitchell replied.
His wife piped up next, “Yes, we can’t decide between three of the paintings. We might just end up bidding on all of them!”
“I’m glad to hear that!” Sloane smiled.
“Now, Sloane, who’s this that you’re with — ?“ Mitchell’s tone was teasing, but he paused when Bruce fully turned to face all of them. The mayor looked shocked. “Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce put on a smile as he sipped his drink. “Hello, Mr. Mayor.”
Mitchell laughed. “Your foundation hasn’t returned any of my calls about your support for my re-election campaign coming up.”
“Ah, sorry about that. I’ve been out of the country for several months.”
A lie. But at least it would get Mitchell off his back for the moment and make it to where he didn’t have to talk anymore. He was so terrible at this part of his life.
“How do you two know each other?” Mrs. Mitchell smirked as she wagged a finger between Bruce and Sloane.
“Oh, we, uh — we actually just met a minute ago. I had no idea I was talking to the Bruce Wayne,” Sloane laughed.
She looked up at him and flashed him an expression as if to say why didn’t you tell me who you were? He only shrugged in response.
“Then you wouldn’t mind if we pulled her away for a moment, Bruce?” Mitchell asked. “We have an acquaintance here who has a question about one of the paintings.”
The mayor gestured at the Penguin who smiled, flashing his gold teeth, at Sloane. There was a split second where Bruce in fact did mind if they pulled Sloane away to be anywhere near that creep. But as she said, they only just met.
“Of course.” He turned towards the woman in blue. “It was nice to meet you, Sloane.”
Her name rolled off his tongue and a pink flush flared across her freckled cheeks. Even the tips of her ears turned a shade of red. A shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked up at him.
“You too, Mr. Wayne.”
The two of them reached out to one another and shook hands lightly. Her hands were so soft. Like silk running through his calloused fingers. Somehow the blush in her cheeks deepened.
Then she disappeared across the ballroom with the Mitchells and the Penguin.
Bruce made quick work of crossing the room himself — trying to act as casual as possible while keeping a keen eye on Oswald Cobblepot. He was leading Sloane over to a particularly large painting in the southwest corner of the room. Bruce could see even from a distance that the central piece of the cityscape painting was the Iceberg Lounge that the Penguin owned. For a moment, Bruce wondered what vantage point Vance had gotten in order to paint the piece. Sidling up to the painting next door, Bruce sipped his ginger ale and tuned in to the Penguin’s grating voice.
“It’s just amazing the Lounge would be subject of a paintin’ tonight!” he exclaimed with a laugh.
“Of course,” Sloane’s melodic voice chimed afterward, “The Iceberg Lounge is an iconic building — a cornerstone in this community.”
The Penguin’s tone turned dark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bruce turned to see what was happening — gauge everyone’s stance and attitude. The Mitchells looked uncomfortable. While Cobblepot stood with his back a little straighter, his fists balled at his sides. But Sloane — with her satin blue dress and baby hairs curling around her ears — was as relaxed as could be. She looked at Cobblepot as if he wasn’t a notorious mobster with a pension for murder and drug running. Maybe she didn’t know who the Penguin was. But she had to know. His face had been all over the news when Maloni was taken down — the two of them had been close after all. A smirk quirked the corner of Bruce’s mouth.
Sloane wasn’t scared of the Penguin. Wasn’t even intimidated by him.
“You do know the history of that building, right?” she questioned with a smile. “When Gotham was first founded, this building served as the city hall. You can actually still see the limestone sign built into the space above the door there.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce watched as Sloane pointed at the canvas with her pinky finger.
“Then it was converted into a conference hall and then — for the last ten years — you’ve run a very well-established business out of the building. So, yes, I would say that this building is a cornerstone of the community. This painting represents that history. The Iceberg Lounge you see here is actually what the building looked like when it was city hall and as the background stretches back behind it the eye travels through time to a modern Gotham skyline.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Cobblepot said as he leaned in close to the painting.
“You really know your stuff, Sloane,” Mayor Mitchell said.
“I just love this city, Mr. Mayor.”
“Ya know.” Cobblepot stepped away from the canvas and pointed a finger at Sloane. “When I heard about this auction — this painting with the Lounge — I didn’t really believe it. But now that I’ve seen it, well, I’m gonna be gettin’ this to hang in my office.”
“Well, let’s hope you win the bidding then,” she said.
Bruce felt deflated. So there was no alterior motive for the Penguin being at that auction. He had heard through the grapevine that a painting featuring the Iceberg Lounge was going up for auction and he wanted to see it for himself — maybe buy it to hang up. Bruce should have known. At least he didn’t have to wait around for hours for the auction to end. He could leave early and start his nightly rounds in the suit.
He wanted to get one last look at Sloane, however, before he left. Even though he would have the footage from the evening to look back on, it wouldn’t be like looking at the real thing. After this, he would probably never see her in real life again. Never see that smear of paint on her wrist. Those freckles or that dimple when she smiled. Never hear her talk about Gotham with such an awe and reverence as if it was paradise. She had charmed him in only a few short moments. Part of him felt compromised — but the other part really didn’t care. He just wanted to see her one last time.
Only problem was he couldn’t find her anywhere. Cobblepot was still there, standing beside the painting of the Iceberg Lounge ready to claim it as his own. The Mitchells had disappeared from the crowd as well.
Where could they have gone to?
Then the sound of a mic crackling to life and feedback from the speakers made the people gathered in the ballroom shout in surprise and cover their ears. Bruce immeadiately looked for the source. On the balcony, Mayor Mitchell stood with the mic in his hand, smiling apologetically out to the crowd.
“Sorry, everyone. I just wanted to welcome you all to tonight’s auction. There are twenty beautiful pieces all by the local Gotham artist L.M. Vance. Tonight, each piece in this collection is about Gotham and its storied history. The buildings and skylines that still stand to this day and the people that make this city what it is. But, without any further ado, I would like to present L.M. Vance, who would like to say a few words before we get started.”
The mayor gestured to the side and Sloane stepped out onto the balcony. The people around Bruce cheered.
God, he should have been able to figure that out.
“Thank you, Mayor Mitchell,” Sloane spoke into the mic with a smile, “I just wanted to come out this evening and properly introduce myself. I have had a career in Gotham for nearly two years, working under the pen name — or I guess brush name would be more appropriate in this instance — ”
The crowd broke out into laughter while Sloane chuckled nervously. As she looked out over the people, her brown eyes caught Bruce’s. He didn’t look away and neither did she.
“ — of L.M. Vance. My real name is Sloane Di Marzio. And I have lived in the city of Gotham my entire life. I grew up in the Bowery, raised by a single mother who always encouraged me to strive for greatness. At eighteen I was awarded a Wayne Foundation scholarship that would get me through Gotham University. And after my graduation, with a degree in fine art and history, I was given the opportunity to go and work abroad. But I couldn’t possibly leave this city that I love — this city that has been my muse my entire life. Gotham is in my blood and I hope that that shows tonight in each of the pieces a lucky few of you will be bringing into your homes.”
She finally looked away from Bruce and he felt a heat rising up his neck. A blush. He sipped his ginger ale casually, trying to regain his composure.
“But these twenty paintings have been a labor of love for the past three years — long before I broke out into the professional art scene. This evening, along with your help, these paintings are going to see a dream come true. Because, while a small portion of the money raised this evening will go to me — an artist has to eat somehow — “ The crowd laughed again, and even this time Bruce huffed into his drink. “The majority of the funds will be used to start an art program with the Gotham City Community Centers. This program will be a way for impoverished and underprivileged children to be able to express themselves and get them off the streets. And…I will be leading and teaching the program myself. Thank you, and enjoy your evening.”
Sloane handed the mic off to the auctioneer and stepped off the balcony to roaring applause. The Gotham elite did love a good charity case to make themselves feel better. And if they got photographed while doing it? Well, that was even better. However, Sloane Di Marzio didn’t seem to be looking for praise or recognition for her work, not really. In the end, it was all about Gotham and helping the city. Sloane had risen from poverty, through the ranks of Gotham’s social structure, and when she was finally at the top? She used her position to get kids off the streets and into a better life using the thing that she loved doing most. It was brilliant and brave and generous and kind hearted.
So when the first painting to come up for auction was the small one of the construction of Wayne Tower, titled Gotham’s Hope, Bruce was the first to bid on it.
“Welcome home, Master Wayne,” Alfred said as he stepped into the cavern below Wayne Tower. “How was the auction?”
“Fine,” Bruce replied.
He was preoccupied. As he usually was these days. The Batman was his entire world now and there was no going back. Hadn’t been since the day his parents died. Alfred was surprised, however, to find him in this cave at all. He had expected, once he was back from the auction, to get in his suit and go out for the night. But there Bruce was, still in his dress suit, standing in front of the computer monitor looking at footage from his eye camera.
A painting was set down on the table.
“You bought something?” Alfred asked, picking up the small frame and inspecting the painting in the dim light.
“Yeah.”
Alfred had to admit, it was a beautiful piece of art. Simple. And he recognized the picture that the art was based on. Knew exactly where the photo was located in the late Thomas Wayne’s study. Alfred set down the painting and looked at the footage Bruce was reviewing.
It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. He thought Bruce would be looking at footage of the Penguin and what he thought he was up to at that auction. But instead he was looking at a girl. Brown hair and eyes, dimpled cheeks, blushing as she looked up at him.
“She’s pretty,” Alfred commented. When Bruce didn’t reply he went on, “Who is she? Friend of the Penguins?”
Bruce was quick to reply as he rewound the same moment over again. “No. She’s the artist. Tonight was useless.”
“Ah, I see.”
The video of this woman smiling up at Bruce with a blush on her cheeks was replayed one more time before the young Master Wayne walked away from the monitor. Headed towards his Batsuit laid out on the other table. Alfred looked over his shoulder to make sure Bruce wasn’t looking before he moved in towards the monitor. Beside the painting was the pamphlet from the auction. Alfred picked it up and noticed the artist’s name — along with her contact information.
L. M. Vance.
Well, maybe tonight wasn’t completely useless.
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challengers au! bruce wayne x reader x harvey dent...
morning reverence
pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x ballerina!reader chapter: 3/? of en attente words: 1.8k warnings: may be cringe and ooc! i am a new writer and dancer and dc fan (year of side quests?) so lmk if yall have any tips! or even ideas for the next chapter. as always, they're on a cruise, so they're at sea. reader's foot is swollen, she's a perfectionist. bruce is soo softspoken
Bruce had to have misunderstood the situation. Why did he go on this trip? Masters of their crafts didn't take vacations. He was far from perfecting Batman yet; and caused Y/N to injure herself and doubt her abilities. He wasn't sleeping tonight. What if she thought he was a creep? Stalking by, watching her? He definitely ruined her vacation.
He couldn't bear to see her at breakfast in the morning, sad and limping. He ordered room service instead but Alfred noticed his absence. “Sir, forgive me for being radical here, but why don't you go to the buffet and socialize?” Alfred suggested tentatively, knowing he was gonna get rejected, “Did you sleep well last night?” Bruce sighed, sliding a hand down his face and sitting up from the confinement of the soft white sheets. He squinted, and reached for his sunglasses as Alfred opened the blinds and let light in the room. “No, I didn't. Yesterday I was- um, taking a walk,” he enunciated his words as if scared of incrimination, gesturing with his hand,“...and I walked by this girl, and she was- you know, spinning, and stuff, in the practice room- and then she fell! And- and she sprained her ankle, I had to help her to her room. It was a whole thing, and- it was just so embarrassing.”
“Ah, so this is about a dancer?” Alfred's smirk infuriated him, but he knew it all too well. “Well, that's just the more reason to go to breakfast and check up on her!” Bruce groaned as he stood up out of bed and stretched his arms over his head. “No, I- what would I even say?” He pulled his shirt out of the dresser and put it over his muscled and scarred torso. “You'll find the words, Master Bruce.”
He walked with Alfred to the cruise’s breakfast buffet, like a child on his way to kindergarten; still sporting sunglasses because of the light. He was serving himself an omelet and some blueberries when he spotted Y/N: limping on her friend's arm, going to sit down. Smiling, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. At least she's up and talking, he thought. He couldn't talk to her while she was with all her friends. But she couldn't walk on her own, so what was he meant to do?
It was bad enough having Lexi drag you around. You felt pathetic, small, as the others asked you questions. “Oh my god, what happened?” You told the truth, albeit embarrassedly. “I- I was practicing, and did a bad turn.” You nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Aww, I'm sorry, girl. I hope you get better!” Your teammate Mari squeezed your hand, and you couldn't quite tell if it was genuine or not.
“Cmon, let's get some French toast, huh?” Lexi raised her eyebrow playfully; you didn't know what was so special about this french toast, but you suppose hotel and cruise food always tastes better. She kept biting back a smirk for some reason… “What is it?” Your brows furrowed suspiciously, as you arrived at the buffet bar. “Well, look who it is! Bruce Wayne!” Lexi exclaimed exaggeratedly, trying to be innocent.
Your eyes widened and your face went red. Why did you tell Lexi about last night? You turned around slowly and there he was. Bruce, in his dark glory wearing sunglasses inside? He was stiff, as if he didn’t want to be here. But still, he said: “Uh- Y/N. Hi. How are you doing? Sorry. Stupid question.” Your brows softened, and you chuckled. “No, it's okay! I'm fine. At least it's not broken. Thank you for helping me last night! I don’t know what I would’ve done on my own.” You rambled before you could stop. “I- uh. Of course. It's the least I could do.” You couldn't tell if he was genuine or just reading off a script.
“Miss Y/N! I believe we met last night on Gotham’s port.” Alfred joined in. At least you knew he wasn't an evil butler-ger, and he knew you weren't a crazy person trying to sue for damages. “Yes, yes we did! It was nice talking to you, Mr. Pennyworth.” You smiled warmly, pretending you didn't need to sit down because your good foot was getting numb. “Please, call me Alfred. Was Bruce here bothering you?” Alfred rubbed Bruce's hair with his fist in a loving manner, to which the latter let out a pained please-stop smile, “I told him to come right down here and apologize.”
Could you have been any more mortified? “No- no! That's not necessary, Mr. Alfred. It was my fault.” You tried keeping a polite smile. Lexi seemed to take pity on you and joined in. “Yeah, don't worry! These injuries happen all the time. Besides, I've been telling her she needs to take a break and she just doesn't listen to me! She's stubborn as a mule.”
The tension in the air could've been cut with a knife. “Alright, I'm gonna-” you started, before Bruce jumped in. “I'll take you! It's the least I can do.” There he goes with that pity again. But you knew Lexi set this up in the first place, with how she was wiggling her eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes and turned around, locking elbows with Bruce; which was awkward because he was taller than you. You couldn't take it anymore. As soon as you got out of earshot, you exclaimed: “Could you stop pitying me? ‘It's the least I can do!’ Oh, please!” You felt heat rushing to your face, cheeks blushing at your outrage.
He seemed perpetually perplexed since last night. “I- I didn't mean to pity you, I just- ah..” He flexed his free hand, as if looking for something to grasp, and looked down at the floor ahead of him, “..wanted to see how you were. I'm truly sorry about last night.” Great, now you feel bad for almost yelling at him. You sighed.“No, it's okay. Lexi is right, it's not your fault. These things happen.” You took a second to regain your words.
“I just hate that everyone's pitying me now, and I can't walk on my own, or practice! Every day I don't rehearse is a day I get worse.” If you're stuck with him, might as well be honest, right? He wet his lips before speaking, as if looking for the right words. “You do know that's not true, right? You won't lose your artistry in one day or even a week.” You scoffed through your nose. “What do you know about hard work, Wayne? You've had everything handed to you.” You avoided eye contact, you really didn't mean to be so rude, but he just didn't get it. How could he?
“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked politely, as if immune to your crude responses. “I- yes, you're a skyscraper, but what does that have to do with anything?” Your brows furrowed, tone defensive. “May I?” He said in that breathy voice of his, and you nodded confused. Suddenly, his calloused hand was firm under your knees, and the other still around your shoulders in a princess carry, no sign of struggle. Your eyes widened as you protested, face only getting flusher. “Hey! You don't have to do that!” Bruce avoided eye contact with you, and focused on walking without dropping you. “I don't mind,” he said simply. “I didn't want you gritting your teeth the whole way. And this doesn't hurt my back.”
You stared at him befuddled, deciding if you were angry or not. “My father, he'd always bring a pair of slippers for my mom, in case her heels hurt. He thought it calmed her down if she was angry or tired. When he'd give them to her, he'd wink at me in the backseat.” He still avoided eye contact, his voice quivering a bit. Your face softened; he was talking about his late parents, you couldn't be snarky. Wait, is he comparing you two to them? You took a breath before speaking, minding your words, not sure whether to apologize. “That seems nice. My dad would do that to me too. I'd always say I didn’t need a jacket and he'd have to give me his.” You smiled at the memory, and he mirrored you sort of painedly.
Once in your room, he sat you in bed with the same care as yesterday, checking up on you. “Is that okay?” He looked up from his place at the feet of the bed as he placed a pillow under yours, you nodded dumbly at how unfairly pretty he looked from below. The air felt thick with something you couldn't name, but you couldn’t stay like this forever. Besides, you both could use someone to talk to. Maybe he’s just as nervous as you, being away from Wayne Enterprises and leaving charge to someone else. “Listen, I have an idea. It's kind of stupid.” You admitted, already cringing at the sound of your voice. His brows furrowed softly, as if the idea itself was nonsensical, “It's not stupid.” You nodded, and wet your lips, preparing your words. “I don't want to slow Lexi down, and I also don't want the other girls pitying me.” You gestured, looking more at the floor than at him, “...and you probably don't want to hear the directors talk about ‘investments.’” You air-quoted and Bruce chuckled, shaking his head no. “No, definitely not. I don’t have to know all the details to help your art.”
You finally got the courage to look him in the eye. “So, for the next few days of the cruise, maybe you could help me around, and we can hang out...?” You got out tentatively, “Only if you'd like.” The edges of his mouth lifted up just slightly, and he nodded. “I'd like that. It would also get Alfred off of breathing down my neck about ‘socializing.’” How adorable. You let out a benign scoff.“You're a grown adult and you let your butler tell you what to do?” His ears turned pink and he rubbed the back of his neck, highlighting his built arms, and said in a soft voice. “I- uhm- he's sort of been my confidante and mentor since I was 8…So, yeah, he tells me what to do.”
“Okay, well, I’m telling you that you can’t do it because you feel bad. You have to promise me to do it because you want to!” You knew you were being demanding, but you couldn’t bear the idea of burdening him after all the trouble you’ve caused the last few days. Maybe you just have bad luck at sea. Or maybe this was a sign that you shouldn’t stop practicing! Or- “I don’t feel bad for you. You’ve been incredibly resilient. I’m also not scared of you. If you wanted to sue me for damages you would’ve done it a long time ago.” He managed to hit the brake on your endless train of thought before it could derail any further, with a soft voice and a breathy laugh.