#but it seems to me that a lot of people think of 'brucie' as a mask that he wears

[lessnowon]

i mean. sure. bruce could be an absurdly competent actor who is capable of going about his everyday life flawlessly portraying an entirely fictional personality without ever breaking character...

but personally, i like to think that he is actually just extremely good at compartmentalizing and exaggerating different facets of his real personality, and that both "brucie" and "batman" are rooted in truth to some degree

[gothamhappiness]

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.

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. 

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.

“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

[aceofshitposts]

Batquinn oneshot where Harley switches sides after joker kills Jason? Like it's the catalyst for her escaping

OOOH what a good one. i usually headcanon that harley is accepted as the arkham psych right after jason's death and joker's admission into arkham post getting almost every bone in his body broken for it BUT

i like this a lot here we go

-

It's the first time Bruce has been in public since Jason's death.

Jason never liked these things. Neither has Bruce, not really, but especially now he feels the sharp sting of holding a champagne flute in one hand and holding a placid smile on his face with no one here to commiserate.

The parade of well wishers seems never ending. People coming to shake his hand and sympathize for his loss in one breath and try to talk business the next. The same people had shown Jason nothing but disdain when Bruce had adopted him; whispering about street rats like Jason belonged under the shoes.

Bruce clenches his fist, not for the first time tonight. He wants to be out on the streets. He needs to be out there. Out on patrol where he doesn't need to hide behind a tired smile.

"Hey, take it easy there, big guy."

There's a hand on his bicep and for a moment Bruce sees pure red. He barely manages to reign in a snarl as he turns to whoever just touched him-- gently. Like they actually cared. None of them actually cared--

Blonde hair swept over one pale shoulder. A red cocktail dress with a slightly garish feather boa wrapped delicately around her elbows. Red lipstick and pale blue eyes looking at him without fear.

Harley Quinn. Joker's girlfriend. What was she doing here and did that mean Joker was prowling around too? He should be in Arkham, there was no way he was fully healed from Bruce's last encounter with him--

"Hey, hey, eyes down here," Harley says, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Bruce's vision focuses back on Harley, a small smile gracing her face when he makes eye contact. "Deep breaths. He's not here, he's not coming, okay? Let's go sit down before you break that champagne flute."

She gently reaches for the glass, taking it easily from his hands and leading Bruce off to the side from prying eyes.

His mind continues to race. Was this a trap? And-- she mentioned him. She's must mean Joker but then. Did she know? If she did, how did she know? And why was she even here?

"Sit," Harley demands as they step outside into the night air.

Numbly Bruce finds himself sitting on the bench she points at, dropping himself onto the polished wood with a grunt. Harley settles in next to him, a small gap between, and begins to pick at the feathers in her boa.

"He was a good kid. He didn't deserve that."

Bruce has heard a lot of people say some variation of that all night long.

It's the first time he's actually believed someone means it.

"You know," he says in response. There's no use in denying it. He's too tired to even try.

Harley looks at him with a lopsided smile.

"Course. Who do you take me for? I've got a PhD, y'know."

Silence settles between them. Bruce doesn't know what to do. Even with her association with Joker, she wasn't involved in what happened. Bruce was clear headed enough to acknowledge that.

"I'm not with him. Anymore, I mean. We were already on a break when he left and..." she's fiddling with her boa again, red feathers falling to her feet. "You have no reason to believe me but I never wanted to hurt Jason like that."

Harley stills, taking several deep breaths.

"I never wanted to hurt you like that. But this isn't about me." - Harley stands, dusting plucked feathers off her lap. - "I just wanted you to know that."

Bruce grabs her wrist before he has time to really think about it. She starts, looking at him with wide eyes. There's going to be talk tomorrow, probably pictures in the paper.

Brucie Wayne with some new arm candy after the death of his adopted son.

Let them talk. There was no stopping the gossip mill regardless.

Harley was the only person at this gala that really saw him.

"You can stay," he whispers, releasing his grip on her wrist. "If you want."

Harley smiles, small and genuine.

"Okay, B. I will."

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Bruce survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 6/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne, Unsafe for Work

Chapter Six: Lyon

“Brucie, wait with Alfred for a moment. I want to talk to Isaiah about setting up your next appointment,” Thomas whispered. Bruce hesitated, and Thomas smiled at him. “I won’t be long. I got a table for the four of us tonight at Pasquini’s. I can’t get enough of that pesto stuff.” Bruce smiled as he let Thomas go. 

Thomas took a deep breath once they entered the French doors and walked down the hall to Isaiah’s larger office. “Is everything okay? Is Bruce okay?” Thomas asked. 

“I want to start out by saying, Bruce is highly intelligent. He’s observant… Strategic, but not manipulative which is surprising for a child his age—.” 

“What do you mean?” Thomas interrupted.

“Bruce uses strategy to figure out whether or not people are trustworthy before opening up. He doesn’t try to manipulate a situation to get a desired outcome… He uses strategy as a means to assess threats. He was tense the entire time, never really relaxing… But given the trauma of the shooting, I can understand that. He’s in constant fight-or-flight mode… 

“But I picked up on other things. Bruce’s laser focus on the game as we played it… No matter how serious our subjects of conversation, he never forgot about the game. He insisted on playing it all the way through to the end… And about Alfred… He’s an important fixture in your family… Am I correct in that assumption?” Isaiah asked. 

Thomas nodded. “Alfred’s family. He’s been with me most of my adult life, and Bruce has known him his entire life,” Thomas replied.

“That’s good… It seems like Bruce is very emotionally attached to him. And I’ll tell you right now, Gotham Academy has nothing to worry about with Bruce. He’s not malicious… He’s got a strong sense of right and wrong, and he feels that although his actions were justified, he laments over being driven to violence,” Isaiah replied, “I think he’ll need long-term care to address the events of the shooting, but I think he finds a lot of comfort in his home life. He kept driving home that he felt safest when he was with you, Martha, and Alfred… How are you adjusting by the way?”

“Um… I’m doing a lot better. I was struggling with having to depend on Alfred and Martha to help me with things that I was so used to doing on my own… But now, I’m much more independent… I just—. It isn’t walking that I miss as much as the other things,” Thomas whispered. 

“Sex?” Isaiah asked. Thomas blew out a breath. 

“Yeah… I mean, we’re older and we were starting to slow down a little, but—. But we still liked to do—. We liked to set time aside to be intimate and warm toward each other, but I’m so worried that we’ll try something and it won’t… arouse me,” Thomas whispered, “And I hate that I can’t show that interest and love like I used to.”

Isaiah frowned and nodded. “You know, I’ll tell you something man-to-man. My wife and I struggled at first. I was ignorant of what it would be like to be with her. We had to adjust to each other… But it doesn’t have to be homework. It’s fun figuring out how to make up for the differences in a person’s body. 

“For Maya and me, that meant incorporating mirrors and signs in our sex lives. For you, that might mean trying to find other ways to get stimulated sexually. Have a sense of humor about it. If something isn’t working, be patient with yourself. Maya used to tease me about mixing up signs or getting flustered at seeing my reflection. 

“I’d say to try a little something this week if you can. Just ask Martha to do something different… Or switch roles. See how that works,” Isaiah replied. 

Thomas’ cheeks went rosy as he let things sink in. “Thank you,” Thomas whispered. Isaiah nodded.

“I’ll contact the school, and they’ll probably let him return on Monday or Tuesday to make sure he’s had enough time to move on from what happened,” Isaiah reassured him as he changed subjects. Thomas smiled back and nodded. 

**

That night after Bruce fell asleep, Thomas took Isaiah up on his advice. He entered the bedroom in his robe and took a deep breath. “We don’t have to tonight if you don’t—.” 

“Of course, I want to, but you mustn’t speak so loudly. What if Master Bruce should hear you?” Alfred whispered. 

Thomas offered a sheepish smile as Alfred leaned forward and kissed him. Their lips found each other, gently touching as they parted, and Alfred pulled away for a moment. “Martha?” Alfred asked. 

“She said she’d sleep in Bruce’s room tonight to look after him. I think she’s too tired tonight anyway,” Thomas frowned, “I understand if you don’t think it’s a good idea… I just—. I’m tired of being afraid that I’m not enough.” 

“You’ve always been enough, Thomas,” Alfred smiled as he stole another kiss from Thomas. 

“Have you and Martha—? I just—. I feel guilty because I haven’t really been able to, so I—.” 

“A few times… Not often,” Alfred answered, “Would you like to hear about it?” 

Thomas smiled and shook his head as he transferred from his chair to Alfred’s bed. Alfred climbed into bed beside him. He used to ask about every little detail when Alfred and Martha were together out of a macho sense of competition, but he’d matured in the past few years. “I’d like to talk about Lyon in nineteen-seventy-one. Do you remember?” Thomas asked as Alfred untied Thomas’ robe, exposing his nakedness under the dim lights. Alfred kissed his neck and chest, rubbing Thomas’ freshly shaved chest. 

“It was a lovely day. Sunny, but not too hot. I recall you feigning drunkenness after one glass of wine, so I could escort you back to your room. I was halfway through unbuttoning your shirt before I noticed,” Alfred trailed off as he kissed his chest. Thomas reached for Alfred’s cheek, only for Alfred to pin his hands above his head. “You were insatiable, Master Thomas.” 

Thomas closed his eyes, listening to the gentle smack of Alfred’s lips against his bare chest between graphically erotic descriptions of what his body looked like in the hotel during daylight hours. “The beads of sweat forming on your suntanned thighs… How could I forget the way you begged me to expose your nakedness as I have now?” Alfred whispered. “Would you like me to remind you what you sounded like?” 

“Mm… Mhm,” Thomas nodded. 

“ Alfred… You can have me if you—. ” 

Thomas chuckled. “I did not sound like that,” Thomas replied. 

“Your hand guiding mine to your shorts. So desperate… Engorged and throbbing. Your face was a portrait of agony and lust… How long had you desired me in silence? In secret? How long—?” 

“Alfred,” Thomas panted with his eyes shut, “Alfred, I’m ready.” 

Alfred let go of Thomas’ hand and looked down at his hardon. Thomas reached for it, trying to control the throbbing, and drooling of his cock. “Master Thomas,” Alfred whispered as he touched himself through his pajama pants. Thomas groaned as he listened to Alfred moaning quietly, his voice sounding much softer than he was used to. “You haven’t answered my question. How long?” 

“Alfred, I’ve wanted you every day since we met… I would’ve cum even if you hadn’t touched me that day… Oh, Alfred,” Thomas moaned as Alfred fingered him. “Alfred, don’t stop. Please don’t stop talking.” 

“The way it felt when you were inside of me, Master Thomas. The way you moaned my name that day. How you trembled as you came inside of me,” Alfred whispered. 

“Alfred, hurry,” Thomas whispered. Alfred nodded as he pulled his pajama pants down to his knees as he slid into Thomas. Thomas gasped. 

“Are you about to cum?” Alfred questioned as he sped up his thrusts. “How does it feel, Thomas?”

“Alfred, please… I love you. I’m sorry, but I’m about to—. I wanted to—.”

“Thomas, do shut up and cum for me, darling,” Alfred grunted as he kissed Thomas’ neck. Thomas shuddered underneath him as he came. Alfred stroked Thomas until Thomas grabbed his wrist. Alfred offered a satisfied smile as he kissed Thomas’ cheek and rolled over to finish himself off. 

“Alfred… Alfred?” Thomas whispered as he wiped himself off. Alfred turned his head to face Thomas. “I love you.” 

“And I love you, Thomas… Would you like me to hold you tonight?” Alfred questioned. Thomas nodded as he stared at the ceiling. “Are you alright?” 

“I don’t know why I’m still so nervous… Alfred, I’m—.” 

Alfred wiped off and rolled onto his side. “I love to look at you from that angle… You make a face… It’s quite beautiful,” Alfred replied as he tried to mimic Thomas’ expression. Thomas laughed as Alfred pulled his pants up and climbed out of bed over him. “You worry too much, my love. I’ll fetch your pants from my drawer. It’s far too cold to sleep nude in the house at this hour.”

[lena-thinks-too-much]

Comparing The Avengers to the Justice league but it's actually accurate

We're just gonna do the main ones because otherwise we'd be here forever

I'm also mainly using mcu characterizations because I'm not as familiar with Marvel comics as I am with DC

Iron Man - Batman

This one goes without saying

Tony is literally Batman and Brucie Wayne put together

Billionaire Playboy Philantropist Superhero who?

They both have ridiculous paranoia

They're rich orphans with British butler (or butler adjacent if we're talking about Jarvis)

Incredibly smart and know it

They both run multimillion dollar companies

and work to better the world both in and out of their super hero persona's

Thor - Aquaman

Non human royalty

friendly and funny

Both of them have a strong sense of duty and loyalty towards their people

They just don't get normal society a lot of the time

Also interwoven magic and science

and they both have really strong elementally based powers

plus a very specific weapon that is inherently associated with them

to be honest, I don't actually know much about aquaman but it feels right

Captain America - Wonder Woman

They are literally soldiers

They both fought in a world war

Also Diana's love intrest is literally a blonde soldier named Steve

Both of them have a strong sense of duty and moral obligation

They're also the most fond of proteges and younger heros

I'm sorry but Steve had no business being so nice to Peter during the airport battle

Dude you are literally fighting each other

Idk the military background makes them more similar in my opinion

also the fact that they're super behind on a lot of modern day stuff

Like everyone remembers Diana discovering ice cream don't we?

and grandpa steve my beloved

Hulk - Superman

okay this one was a little hard

at first I was gonna do Guy Gardner cuz green guy with anger issues. But Guy's kind of an asshole and Bruce is a sweetheart

so then I thought the Flash for the science but I don't think Bruce is into puns enough to match with either Barry or Wally

But Clark is perfect

Clark is a dork

But he is genuinely really intelligent

also they literally wear the same glasses

I think Clark and Bruce would get along really well

If you want to talk about the anger issues

Well

We've all scene Batman V. Superman

Tbh not my favorite version of superman

Clark is obviously not quite prone to rage

and it's definitely no where near hulk levels though

But when he's angry it gets destructive real fast

think about most of his fights with doomsday

Constantly worries about his own strength and hurting the people he loves

Which is a struggle both of them are characterized by

Black Widow - Orphan/Black Bat/Batgirl

okay I know cass isn't technically a member of the league

but hear me out

also I'm not actually sure which title is Cass's current one

anyways

both were raised from childhood to be a lethal weapon

and they truly are

they both have a major guilt complex over the lives they've taken

and that's one of the biggest factors for them becoming a hero

they joined the good guys to get out of the assassin lifestyle

Also dancing?

like the widows were trained in ballet since it was the red room's cover

and cass dances as an escape

I think it's poetic

Also they both are the owners of their family's shared braincell

Cass is like Natasha but younger really

Hawkeye - Green Arrow

so I know at first glance this seems obvious

yk skilled archer or whatever

but I wasn't exactly for it at first

I'm not really Green Arrow's biggest fan

But I've recently been reading Mia's run as speedy

and despite the vast, and I mean vast, difference in her back story with Kate

Their mentors are very similar with their proteges

like Oliver is just so soft with mia and it's adorable

not to mention neither wanted a protege at first and then they go and basically adopt them

literally in oliver's case

Also Ollie's into pranking as much as Clint is

And admittedly Oliver is just as strongly attached to his family as Clint is

if we ignore the thing with roy because wtf Oliver

Runner ups:

Thor and Wonder Woman: mythology and their whole fish-out-of-water-ness in modern society

Thor and Captain Marvel: again mythology, lightning powers, and also their childlike nature (literally in Billy's case)

Black Widow and Black Canary: badasses that keep the men on their team in line. need I say more?

Iron Man and Green Arrow: only thing that got me is that Ollie's not nearly smart enough to go toe to toe with Tony

Vision and Martian Manhunter: they can pass through walls and they just don't get humans

Scarlett Witch and Zatanna/ Dr Strange and Constantine: I don't think this requires elaboration

Winter Soldier and Jason Todd: fallen hero presumed dead starts working for the bad guys before switching back to the good guys

Bonus:

Spiderman and Dick!Robin

they're bendy

they love puns

they love swinging in the air

they're smart

they give their mentors high blood pressure

everyone loves them

they have a lot of grief

they have a thing for really smart, badass red heads

Ball of sunshine with ridiculous anger issues

also I think a meeting between Dick and Peter would be a disaster in the best way possible

[screamting]

Do you have any examples in mind for the Alfred as Bruce's handler idea? What would be the sort of thing that's weird? Because keeping him up-to-date on politics and taking care of his diet, or even talking him down from fear gas attacks doesn't seem that weird to me. Especially with how their lives are going. What specifically are you thinking of? This is such an interesting take, would love to hear more about this

"With how their lives are going" is sort of the point. A butler is a household manager, so like yes, there's some overlap with controlling and organizing lots of people-- but like, not their boss? In a smaller household butlers might do things like take on valet and housekeeping duties, which is probably what happened after the household downsized after Martha and Thomas died. That's also probably when he went from Mr Pennyworth to Alfred.

And people know it's a weird situation. Like. Okay. So the one potential relative the Waynes may have had (Jacob Kane) is too young to take Bruce in, or Martha and Thomas just fuckin hate their other living relatives and specifically write that if anything happens to us Bruce goes to Alfred, or Bruce goes to a relative for like 2 months and it Does Not Work and either Bruce or Alfred bribe a judge to make Alfred his guardian. Lots of options, all of them A Weird Situation Everybody Knows About.

I think partly because of trying to maintain normalcy in Bruce's life (and because of his own emotional issues) Alfred does hold onto the butler/valet thing maybe a little harder than might have been ideal, but if he dresses Bruce he's just lying clothes out for him on the bed or helping him get dressed up for important events. There's no point for Alfred to drive him around-- by all rights Alfred should have his own driver-- and they should have a cook and housemaid and maybe they have Dory like in the batman 2022, but it's still a weird thing to be, essentially, raised by the staff.

(I think maybe that's a separate point but I do think it should play more into the conception of Brucie as a person. He's not just comfortably empty headed and kind to 'the help' because he's stupid and never had parents to teach him how a rich man ought to behave. He's that way because he was raised by the help. Not even in the normal way where you pay/kidnap a nanny to raise your kids instead of her own. Just straight up the butler and the housekeeper and the family physician. [Bruce knows Leslie's a surgeon but his association is still like, 'ah, yes, my pediatrician who showed up to all my birthdays whether I wanted one or not.'])

The thing is that when this is happening as Bruce is a kid, it's weird, but like, it's normal too. They get a closer relationship than child and butler usually do. It's normal for a younger kid to not control his meals too much but once he's an older teen he makes requests for dinner and it happens. He starts growing independent and comes to Alfred less for advice, sometimes making him worry, but he's becoming an adult and soon he won't need Alfred at all!

...and then Bruce runs off with a few hundred thousand dollars in cash and vanishes for years without a word.

When he comes back he's got this absolutely deranged idea in his head about going out and violently making the city a place people are afraid to commit crimes. Sure petty theft and carjacking, but no: he's going to make mafiosos afraid. He's going to very specifically make them feel unsafe in their own homes. He's going to terrorize every crooked cop and politician until quitting and struggling for the rest of their lives sounds like a better option than continuing to take an extra 10k home a month.

....so anyway, Alfred unfortunately loves this kid too much to throw him into Arkham, and it seems like he'd be pretty hard to wrestle now after going through all that assassin training.

So early Alfred takes on what eventually sort of gets outsourced to Oracle, because even if he hasn't been around it since Martha and Thomas were alive he remembers more about upper crust society behavior and Bruce needs to nail it down. So it's not just "here's the summary of the daily newspaper master bruce" it's "this is Julia Danvers she's the only heiress to an oil field fortune and has an allergy to shellfish. She's sort of into environmentalism but isn't really thinking it through and any real complicated solutions that would cause damage to the business make her feel like the end of her family line, which of course ends with a woman and they're going to blame her for being a woman and ruining the business for everyone else. So when you talk to her, here is what I think you should do..."

Bruce doesn't pick his meals anymore because he barely eats so Alfred makes a protein shake with so many other added nutrients that you do have to ease yourself onto them unless you want to absolutely annihilate your gut and suffer in the bathroom for three days. Of course, Bruce never had to think about this, because Alfred did the easing on himself by varying the inputs over the course of a month gradually with the rest of his meals that were easy digestables.

Talking down from fear gas isn't something they plan for but it is something that like: Bruce is seeing a monster. It is telling him the terrible things it will do.

It is using Alfred's voice, so Bruce has to believe there's a good reason for it to do those things, and gives himself over to it.

It's not just that Alfred puts aside what he'd carefully raised and hoped for to ruthlessly try and keep alive what he has. It's that Bruce knows he's being handled, and allows it.

[to-the-stars8]

Love and Neighbors

Clark Kent x Reader Chapters AO3

36- Mr. Wayne

Clark could hardly get out two words to call your name when he saw you amongst the other partygoers, standing out since no one could compare to the kind of beauty you had. You were laughing with none other than Bruce Wayne, deep in conversation about how incompetent Lex Luthor was. Just like you had heard his heartbeat quicken, you turned to look at him, your smile getting wider. Bruce noticed him at the same time, turning to say something to you momentarily before he motioned for Clark to come over. 

Blushing at the realization he’d just been staring at you and started to make his way over, apologizing to all the people he had to brush past. Bruce clapped him on the shoulder, giving you one of those award-winning Brucie Wayne smiles that had all the women and papers dying to see.

“Clark, how come you didn’t introduce me to your friend sooner?” Just by the tone of his voice, the reporter could tell that the cheerful charisma act was in full effect. 

Chuckling awkwardly, he said, “I think we’ve both been busy with our…other jobs.”

You leaned forward, adding, “Either way, it is nice to finally meet Clark’s best friend.”

Bruce turned to Clark with a shit-eating grin before exclaiming, “Besties! That’s right.”

Your boyfriend had told you all about Batman, how he had the hardest exterior for one of the softest members of the Justice League. The Batman you had heard of through newspapers and TV was violent and intimidating. It was one of the reasons that when Clark had come to you with the offer of going to a Wayne gala you were immediately nervous. 

When Bruce first found you, you were surprised to learn how nice he was. He seemed interested in you, asking you questions about yourself, personally and professionally. The number of questions he had seemed like he was scoping you out for something, but you weren’t entirely turned away from it. Happily, you answered them, knowing that it was more than likely for Clark’s sake. 

“You have to come to Wayne Manor one day, for dinner or something,” Bruce said, sparing a glance at Clark. “It’ll be nice to get to know each other more personally.”

You grinned. “That sounds great, Mr. Wayne.”

“Call me Bruce, please,” He leaned back and seemingly noticed someone across the room. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I see a beautiful woman over there that looks a bit lonely.”

As he slinked away and you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Clark’s lips. “I expected him to be a lot more of an asshole.”

Your boyfriend snickered, “He can be, but he’s still one of the greatest people I know.”

You nodded, looking across the room to see Bruce Wayne practically hanging off a woman in all black. Mr. Wayne was blubbering about something to the woman, pretending to be more drunk than he really was, and acting like a complete fool amongst the partygoers who stared whiled snickering. 

“He’s the greatest person you know?”

[frownyalfred]

Are there any tropes or whump ideas you can't believe no one has done or there is little of?

I say this because I adore your fic "pull out the pin." Possession trope is so WHUMPY and makes me giggle and curl my toesies like an idiot. I don't care if the "Fight it" "This isn't you" "give him back" dialogue is cringe, I gobble that shit as if I were in a famine. It has so much potential and I'm so surprised how underused it is.

Love your work! Love your account! You inspire me to write - one day at least haha❤️ 😔✊

Thank you so much! Yeah even if it is cringe I’m gonna write it 😅 I hope you write someday!

I would probably say eldritch and/or Gotham being weird, giving the Batfamily powers, etc. I know there are fics out there with those that are great, but it didn’t seem to catch on as much as you’d think with all the canon source material.

When I was writing my eldritch superbat fic there weren’t a ton of similar fics. I then wrote that post about cryptid/weird batkids getting powers over time and that seems to have sparked a few new fics which is awesome! I’ve been reading all of them hahaha.

People tell me pretty frequently that the mind bond fic is rare for DC. I would also say that a lot of the older fandom tropes (reincarnation, royal AUs, sex pollen) have also decreased in recent years, but that’s not always a bad thing! Just means fandom interests are shifting to other tropes.

I’ve mentioned to fellow writers, in the whump realm, that we don’t cover Clark in blood nearly enough. And we definitely don’t talk enough about the batkids getting hurt trying to emulate Bruce, not necessarily in his vigilante activities, but in his social/Brucie Wayne identity ones.

As always, if anyone has recs to prove me wrong here, I happily welcome them!

[toomanyrobins2]

Our Manhattan

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

24th March, maybe the 25th

Dear Batman,

I don't believe I can be going to Heaven—I am getting such a lot of good things here; it wouldn't be fair to get them hereafter too. Listen to what has happened.

Y/N Abbott has won the short-story contest (a twenty-five dollar prize) that the Monthly holds every year. And she's a Sophomore! The contestants are mostly Seniors. When I saw my name posted, I couldn't quite believe it was true. Maybe I am going to be an author after all. I wish Mrs. Lippett hadn't given me such a silly name—it sounds like an author-ess, doesn't it?

Also I have been chosen for the spring dramatics—As You Like It out of doors. I am going to be Celia, own cousin to Rosalind.

And lastly: Harriet and Barbara and I are going to New York next Friday to do some spring shopping and stay all night and go to the theatre the next day with 'Master Brucie.' He invited us. Harriet is going to stay at home with her family, but Barbara and I are going to stop at the Martha Washington Hotel. Did you ever hear of anything so exciting? I've never been in a hotel in my life, nor in a theatre; except once when the Catholic Church had a festival and invited the orphans, but that wasn't a real play and it doesn't count.

And what do you think we're going to see? Hamlet. Think of that! We studied it for four weeks in Shakespeare class and I know it by heart.

I am so excited over all these prospects that I can scarcely sleep.

Goodbye, Bats.

This is a very entertaining world.

Yours ever,

Judy

PS. I've just looked at the calendar. It's the 28th.

Another postscript.

I saw a street car conductor today with one brown eye and one blue. Wouldn't he make a nice villain for a detective story?

 

7th April

Dear Batman,

Mercy! Isn't New York big? Worcester is nothing to it. Do you mean to tell me that you actually lived in all that confusion? I don't believe that I shall recover for months from the bewildering effect of two days of it. I can't begin to tell you all the amazing things I've seen; I suppose you know, though, since you live there yourself.

But aren't the streets entertaining? And the people? And the shops? I never saw such lovely things as there are in the windows. It makes you want to devote your life to wearing clothes.

Barbara and Harriet and I went shopping together Saturday morning. Harriet went into the very most gorgeous place I ever saw, white and gold walls and blue carpets and blue silk curtains and gilt chairs. A perfectly beautiful lady with yellow hair and a long black silk trailing gown came to meet us with a welcoming smile. I thought we were paying a social call, and started to shake hands, but it seems we were only buying hats—at least Harriet was. She sat down in “front of a mirror and tried on a dozen, each lovelier than the last, and bought the two loveliest of all.

I can't imagine any joy in life greater than sitting down in front of a mirror and buying any hat you choose without having first to consider the price! There's no doubt about it, Bats; New York would rapidly undermine this fine stoical character which the Bowery Home so patiently built up.

And after we'd finished our shopping, we met Master Bruce at Sherry's. I suppose you've been in Sherry's? Picture that, then picture the dining room of the Bowery Home with its oilcloth-covered tables, and white crockery that you can't break, and wooden-handled knives and forks; and fancy the way I felt!

I ate my fish with the wrong fork, but the waiter very kindly gave me another so that nobody noticed.

And after luncheon we went to the theatre—it was dazzling, marvellous, unbelievable—I dream about it every night.

Isn't Shakespeare wonderful?

Hamlet is so much better on the stage than when we analyze it in class; I “appreciated it before, but now, dear me!

I think, if you don't mind, that I'd rather be an actress than a writer. Wouldn't you like me to leave college and go into a dramatic school? And then I'll send you a box for all my performances, and smile at you across the footlights. Only wear a red rose in your buttonhole, please, so I'll surely smile at the right man. It would be an awfully embarrassing mistake if I picked out the wrong one.

We came back Saturday night and had our dinner in the train, at little tables with pink lamps. I never heard of meals being served in trains before, and I inadvertently said so.

'Where on earth were you brought up?' said Harriet to me.

'In a village,' said I meekly, to Harriet.

'But didn't you ever travel?' said she to me.

'Not till I came to college, and then it was only a hundred and sixty miles and we didn't eat,' said I to her.

She's getting quite interested in me, because I say such funny things. I try hard not to, but they do pop out when I'm surprised—and I'm surprised most “of the time. It's a dizzying experience, to pass eighteen years in the Bowery Home, and then suddenly to be plunged into the WORLD.

But I'm getting acclimated. I don't make such awful mistakes as I did; and I don't feel uncomfortable anymore with the other girls. I used to squirm whenever people looked at me. I felt as though they saw right through my sham new clothes to the checked ginghams underneath. But I'm not letting the ginghams bother me anymore. Sufficient unto yesterday is the evil thereof.

I forgot to tell you about our flowers. Master Bruce gave us each a big bunch of violets and lilies-of-the-valley. Wasn't that sweet of him? I never used to care much for men—judging by Trustees—but I'm changing my mind.

Yours always,

Y/N 

 

10th April

Dear Mr. Rich-Man,

Here's your cheque for fifty dollars. Thank you very much, but I do not feel that I can keep it. My allowance is sufficient to afford all of the hats that I need. I am sorry that I wrote all that silly stuff about the millinery shop; it's just that I had never seen anything like it before.

However, I wasn't begging! And I would rather not accept any more charity than I have to.

Sincerely yours,

Y/N Abbott

Bruce stared down at the check. He had barely thought about it when they had been out in the city and once Y/n had sent the letter, he’d dispatched the check without a second thought. 

Clark Kent, who had been present during the discussion about Y/N's shopping woes, entered the study with a knowing expression. "Having trouble with the whole 'helping' thing?" Clark quipped, a  smile playing on his lips.

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to make things a bit easier for her. She didn't have to return the check."

Clark leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "Bruce, you know Y/N at this point. She's independent and proud. Accepting help might not come naturally to her, especially from someone like you."

Bruce frowned, the frustration evident in his eyes. "But I want to help. She shouldn't have to feel lesser than her peers."

Clark nodded, understanding Bruce's genuine concern. "Maybe it's not about the help itself, but how it's offered. Try sending her a letter with a short note explaining why you sent the check. Make it personal. Sometimes, a few carefully chosen words can make a big difference."

Bruce considered Clark's suggestion, recognizing the wisdom in his friend's advice. "You think that might work?"

"Y/N's a writer, Bruce. Words matter to her. A thoughtful note can make the gesture feel less like charity and more like a friend looking out for another," Clark explained.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce reached for a pen and paper. 

Miss Abbott, I go against my rules by penning this letter but I find myself unable to let this matter go. This check is not charity but a gift from a friend who wishes to see you excel in all matters. I wish you to be able to experience all that your peers are able to. I have never sponsored a woman before and I confess that I lack the knowledge to ensure that you are equal to your peers.  I kindly request that you keep this cheque as an apology for my own failings as your patron.  Mr. Smith

As Bruce sealed the letter, he handed it to Alfred, who was passing by. "Alfred, make sure this gets to Miss Abbott. And let's hope this time, she accepts it."

[cinnamon-does-wacky-shit]

It has been more years than Bruce could count since that awful day. Hungover like something dreadful and waking up in another house, it was just an average morning for brucie Wayne. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. Stumbling back to Wayne manor, he got greeted Alfred,

“master Bruce, it appears you have a break in your schedule today”

that was it. No parties, no dates, nothing to distract him from his grief.

“uhh, Alfred, is there anything going on today? Something to do maybe?” “it seems there is a circus in town this will master Bruce”

There it was. his escape for the day, it would be good to do something different for a change.

“well then, I think I will go to that!” Bruce says cheerfully. After getting dressed and washed up, he goes to see what this circus would entail.

the show had been pretty standard so far, clowns, lion tamer, the whole thing. That was, until the flying graysons came on.

they were breathtaking, Bruce had never seen anything like it! The trio was certainly something to remember!

that was, until everything went wrong.

screams were heard all around him, and all Bruce could do was stare at the bodies. Dead on the ground. Just like his parents.

He was pulled out of his trance by a small tug on his suit jacket. It made sense, everyone knew brucie Wayne was one of the most friendly guys in Gotham. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of this miniature version of himself. Black, curly hair messed up and bright blue eyes puffy with tears. Just like him on that dreadful day. He couldn’t leave the boy, he just couldn’t.

Before either of them knew what was going on, Bruce picked up the boy and carried him out, mumbling comforting words to him.

Bruce scurried underneath his new ward as he swung on the chandlers, “Dick! Get down from there!” He called out, getting only giggles as a response. He couldn’t help but smile, his son was still an acrobatic though and through.

you couldn’t imagine the panic that he felt when Dick didn’t come downstairs for breakfast one morning. The terror filled him as he rushed through the manor, calling his sons name, and only pausing for breath. Anger boiled in Bruce when he found a small note, signed by someone named talon. He had only a vague memory of people mentioning the court of owls, but if they took his son, they would find a force to be reckoned with.

After a small search in the basement, he made a mask and armored suit, he couldn’t have his reputation ruined now.

Bruce was so glad he worked out often and knew how to fight, because getting to his son would have been a lot harder without it. He nearly cried when he got reunited with dick, holding him tightly as if he were going to get kidnapped again.

This kind of thing was starting to happen too often. They just saw his son as only a bargaining chip, and he had to don the cape and cowl more and more frequently. One night, when he was patrolling the streets and searching for his ward, he saw a familiar figure in an alleyway. It was wearing the colors of the flying graysons, and the way they flipped and moved was all too familiar.

It couldn’t be

Bruce’s jaw hung agape as he saw this vigilante fighting criminals, and he was surprisingly good at it too. Then, when they took a hit to their face, the voice that cried out in pain was one that Bruce knew all too well. these men, the criminals.

They were hurting his baby boy.

In fit of rage and protectiveness, Bruce made short work of these criminals. Only a few months ago he would be drunk on booze at some party, he nearly didn’t recognize himself. “Dick! Are you hurt? How long have you been doing this? Why have you not told me?” The questions come out all at once,

“Well, I saw some people in trouble and I couldn’t just let them get hurt, so…” The young boy trails off. Bruce couldn’t stay mad at him

“ok, but promise me you won’t do it again, ok dickie-bird?” I don’t want you to get hurt” to which dick nods in response.

of course he went out as Robin again. The little scoundrel snuck out and was once again putting himself in harms way. Bruce panics internally as he fumbled the batsuit on. Over the months he had improved it from the simple mask and makeshift armor that he had originally made, since they all kept getting damaged or destroyed one way or another. He faced his son in his bright green and red suit,

“dick. I know you won’t stop saving people. Please, just let me be with you when you do… I-I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt, or worse…” Bruce begs dick, who nods in response

“yeah. I could do that” he says with a smile. The duo then starts their patrol together, the first of many.

In some AU out there I like to think there’s a Batman that started out as more “Brucie” the playboy bachelor than self made fighting machine. A Bruce Wayne who was actually more accustomed to throwing epic parties than punching bad guys. A Bruce that tried to drown his grief in every pleasure the world has to offer… until he finds his Robin.

Dick Grayson who comes from the same type of tragedy, only he doesn’t have a billion dollars (or a father figure like Alfred) to fall back on.

This little kid who wants to take on the mob personally - is now targeted by kidnappers who want Bruce’s money - and is suffering from a complete lack of self preservation and the innate compulsion to swing from every chandelier in Bruce’s home.

This kid, who some people in Gotham’s high society look upon with a predatory gaze and whisper things like ‘Talon’ and ‘Court of Owls’ and a dozen other things that Bruce isn’t sure about…. But Dick has nothing and no one and Bruce HAS to step up and be there for him.

So Brucie, with his years of marital arts training (because he still loves his fitness and the ability to defend himself) has to quickly become someone who’s able to protect this kid. Everyone in Gotham thinks Bruce has matured and settled down because he’s a father now - and they aren’t Wrong per se but really - when your kid is that much of a daredevil/trouble magnet, a Bat-themed vigilante gets born out of necessity because Robin was going to go fight the darkness with or without Bruce’s help.

Just imagine a ‘Brucie’ who wants to forget his grief through partying more than punching criminals … and then imagine how that partying DILF becomes BATMAN - born from protective love instead of long held grief.

[kojiscorner]

7, 10, 16

🔥choose violence ask game🔥 (ACCEPTING)

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how the fandom acts about them?

I tend not to let fandom behavior of a character actually ruin the character themselves for me, but there are several characters that I am not a fan (heh) of the fandom of. The first that comes to mind is Batman. I absolutely adore the character, but a lot of people who are fans of him can be downright awful.

10. worst part of fanon

The point where people decide fannin is canon. I don't mean just strongly preferring your personal interpretation over what the canon provides, but specifically when one pushes their own preferred ideas as though they are what has actually happened in the text. This is often done to push a specific idea or narrative on to other people, which is really where it starts to grind my gears. Nobody's view of a character is empirically correct. Even I can fall into this when having some discussions about characters that I'm passionate about, but I have to take a step back and recognize that whatever version of the character I love, it may not entirely line up with what is. But that's what role plays for, where I can write and write with versions of the characters that line up with what I love and leave the canon to itself.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Staying on the subject of Batman and having views that don't quite line up with canon: I actually cannot stand the 'Bruce Wayne is the mask, Batman is the true face' stance. I think it's much more interesting and nuanced if there are three distinct personas to him. Brucie Wayne, the billionaire playboy, Batman, the terrifying vigilante, and Bruce, the man behind them both. I'll forgo dumping a whole dissertation on this here, but the main point is that I don't like the idea that this character is nothing more than a rage fueled furry who likes beating up the poor and mentally ill and everything else to him is a farce. Unfortunately, it seems to be the prevailing stance on him from those who hold the character I the highest esteem, and even many of the people who have written him over the years.

[lazlolullaby]

is the new Flash movie actually enjoyable?

off the cuff...fresh like 1 hour after the theater here so bare with me. I am not a DC girlie/dedicated fan so again. take a bucket of salt

oh boy it's got a lot of annoying things. if you go into it expecting annoying jokes, half cooked plot, and Lore, you'll be fine. It's more a movie to watch with Friends and pause and scream at the TV.

The CGI was ... ugh. Felt like a video game, very unfinished, a little campy but it gets the job done.

Ezra Miller is very good at talking fast. he's so messed up i can't believe people don't think Barry is a drug addict. The way his eyes twitch every moment he tries to look at the others is WILD. Bitch got the 'tism. and the c-ptsd. and no charm. i couldn't root for him, but someone could. somewhere.

Michael Keaton was Good. So Good, so very Brucie Wayne, unhinged and lonely and the right amount of drama queen.

Gal Gadot's job right now in the DC Universe just seems to be "bail the guys out of trouble and look good doing it." (and in Fast X. Surprise! She lives!) ...that's messed up.

Kara was also There for like 10 minutes as the Muscle of the team. she Did things and I'm very proud of her but the trailers really just spoil the Big Twist that she Exists.

The Mom - i love her she wins and she loses at being the DC Mom brigade. Bad bitch club for sure.

i think the idea for the movie was Good. They do the Flashpoint Paradox combined with an Origin Story for Young Barry. Showing how he got the powers, why he's alone and so determined to follow through with Justice.

Young Barry is annoying. like kid brother you know they are just adding him in to be comic relief. he's here to misunderstand words, use powers badly and get hurt funny. You have to Know he's a comic relief and Accept it in your heart. there was a hot minute where you can see him breaking down, see him feel things and then BAM … I feel like you know it ends. you know what happens to time duplicates.

But it kills me that if they got Keaton (and final special guest!!! akljsskldfklj!!) as Alternate Batsy(s), (and alternate SUPES!!! SO MANY ALTERNATE SUPES IN THE FINALE I'M GOING TO SPIN MY WHEEL SO HARD ABOUT IT!

(GOD WHY DID THEY DO THAT?? PUT THE HINGE OF THE UNIVERSE ON SUPERMAN? WHEN CAVILL IS GONE? THERE IS SUCH A NERDY REFERENCE WITH ONE OF THE SUPES - DEEP CUT AS HELL AND NO ONE LAUGHED AT IT. NO ONE.)

why couldn't they hire another person to be Young Barry??? Or brought in CW!Flash, or hey? have Barry die in the home invasion and replace him with Wally West??? that could have kicked ass. i was so distracted by body double, the tricks and acting it pulled me out.

...mmm. So if you like forced comedy bits. and have an appreciation for Deep Lore. You'll like it. I suggest gathering with nerd friends to watch and roast it.

Nerd friends will lovingly point out the inconsistencies and references. but by god you can't go in expecting anything life changing or brain rewiring.

watch spider-verse it's better, but everyone knows that by now.

[forasgaard]

12 Months & A Loki

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist AO3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bruce drove onto a street that would lead out of the city. Away from Manhattan. The Avengers Compound lied outside of New York, along the Hudson River. (Adress: 4 Lamont Landing, Esopus, NY)

From afar it didn't look that big. But when Bruce drove the white Audi onto the parking lot of the Compund I gaped at the huge building with all these massive windows. It was incredible! Cars stood everywhere. Most of then with dark windows. There was a helicopter landing spot and on the giant lawn drove small robotic mowers.

People in unuforms ran around and seemed very busy. They belonged to that secret organisation Bruce told me about. I only realised now how big and important the Avengers really were. And what I drifted into here.

A little farther behind lied a huge rectangular building, that looked like a storage depot. Bruce followed my view. "That's the research building. Laboratoroes and test areas and all that stuff." He opened the trunk and heaved up my luggage. With a smile of gratitude, I took my backpack. Bruce carried my giant suitcase and we went to another white building, which seemed to be the living area.

The lobby was modern and radiated a white lighting. A huge ceiling made good contrast to the large windows on both walls. One the left, there was a long reception desk, but it was empty. At the other side of the wall lied a silvery elevator, build diretly into the wall.

"So there we are. Welcome to the Avengers headquarters!" Bruce smiled at me. I was overwhelmed. This building looked like a dystopia novel. Everything was futuristic and modern. I loved it!

We went to the elevator when suddenly a figure passed the room and disappeared in the hallway on the right. "Hey Tony!", Bruce called out. The figure peeked around the corner. I noticed him immediately. That was Tony Stark. The famous Tony Stark! The man who invented Iron Man! His beard was irrecognizable.

Tony sneered and emerged fully from the corner. "Ahhh! There she is! Our new intern from Germany!" Bruce frowned. "Eh no, actually she-" "I know, I know. Welcome!" Tony grabbed my hand and shaked in excitement. In his other hand was a brown file. He wore black sweatpants and a simple grey tee. My eyes fell onto the blue shimering circle on his chest.

"I guess, Brucy already told you everything. Who I am and all that stuff" He waved his hand through the air. It was a bit hard to understand him, he spoke very fast. "Yeah thank you", I replied. "Thanks that I can live here" I smiled. Tony shrugged carelessly and winked. "No problem. Guests are always welcome. Having a lot of passing trade recently. And all this belongs to me anyways." I didn't knoe what to answer and looked helpless to Bruce. He put a hand onto my shoulder. His grip was tight but not not painful. I tried to forget in what he could turn and pushed the tought of the Hulk beside. "Tony, you know where everyone is? I wanna introduce Hanna to the others before dinner" "Well I am here.", said Tony and I heard Bruce's sigh. "Steve, Nat and Barton are training. Trying that new combo, I think. And Pep and Jane are upstairs with Thor and Grumpy. I'm gonna join, just wantes to bing this down to the lab." He waggled he file in his hands. 

"Alright thanks" Bruce pusehd me carefully towards the evelator. "See ya" The doors closed and the elevator moved softly. Bruce looked up to the ceiling. "Jarvis? Could you tell Steve and the other two to join us in the living area please?" A voice resonated from the walls and I flinched. "Of course Dr Banner. I will contact them immediately." "Thanks J", Bruce laughed. "That's just Jarvis. Tony's IA. Don't worry. He's controling everything around here. Like the security thing or contacting people. You can also use him to set a reminder. Like these new Aazon Alexa things." "But I'd rather prefer not to be in use for such minor chores.", Jarvis commented. Bruce laughed. I knew Tony Stark was a genius, but building an own cleverer version of Siri into his house was absolutely crazy!

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Hello! I've been following your wayne bro series since the start and it's so interesting i love it!! If you're not busy i want to request a fic where wayne!bro and tim bond together? Bc i noticed they weren't exactly close with eo at the start but in the super sons fic they seem more friendly, i was curious on how that developed ^^ idk if this makes sense lol, hope ur having a good day!!!

I knew generally how this would go (which is why this took so long, sorry about that) but I can't for the life of me get the energy to write a full fic so I'm gonna write it as headcannons instead, hope you enjoy! (yeah, it got out of hand but it worked, this was the turn in Tim and Wayne!Bro's relationship and proof that the only way this family can communicate is when everything is falling apart😅)

- it's not that you didn't like Tim, he was a sweet kid, incredibly smart (some may say too smart for his young age) but it hadn't even been a year since Jason's death and the fact that Bruce was training another Robin just infuriated you.

- Unfortunately one thing is apparently genetic among the Waynes and that's their lack of healthy communication skills so your anger at Bruce unfortunately hurt Tim along the way

- He was 13 when he tracked Dick down and told him that not only did he know the identities of the batfamily but he knew that Batman needed a Robin because he saw how much angrier and more aggressive Batman was without him

- Eventually Tim wormed his way into the boy wonder costume and you fumed when you heard, you actually came to gotham to yell at Bruce

- None of this changed anything, you had no influence on your family's nightlife and Tim was adamant that he was staying... That being said it doesn't mean you had to like Tim or approve of any of this situation

- You ran into Tim on a few occasions, when Conner was first discovered, when you and your family visited the manor and inevitably when the boy's father died and Bruce officially took him in

- He often tried to talk to you, to bond but you couldn't, you were still grieving Jason and while you weren't angry at Tim it was difficult for you

- Eventually Bruce and Alfred had enough, even Dick (who was equally as mad at Bruce for training Tim) came around and even Clark liked him

- After two years of minimal contact Bruce told you that a young man had won an internship at Wayne Ent. and that he would be sending the boy to shadow you for a day as part of the program. He's done similar things before so you didn't think anything of it until you came to say hello to your assistant Anna who was happily chatting with a young man

- You assumed this would be the boy shadowing you so you happily came to introduce yourself

- "Good morning Anna, who might our guest be?" You asked and had to stop your expression from shifting when the boy turned around and Tim's happy face greeted you

- "Hi Mr. Wayne, it's nice to see you again" Tim said

- Suddenly things made complete sense and you only wondered if Clark and Alfred were in on this too or if it was only your brother's scheming

- The day was easy but full with meetings with department heads and a tour of a new lab for a metropolis branch of Wayne Biotech

- Tim asked a lot of questions and you were decently surprised that he seemed actually interested in the goings on of the company, his intelligence was indeed remarkable and you had no doubt that if he wanted to he could work in any scientific field he chose to study

- It was during lunch though the dreaded conversation happened

- You and Tim were eating lunch in your office while you reviewed some paperwork

"So you're not actually a perpetually serious business man like people say are you?" Tim asked and you looked up from your work.

"Is that what they say about me now?" You asked dryly before giving your actual answer to Tim's question like you'd been doing all day.

"No. That's as much a persona as Brucie is. It lets me keep my life private if I look boring"

Tim nodded taking a few more bites of the pasta he took from the cafeteria the tower had for it's employees.

"So that's why you look so work focused? so people leave you alone?" He asked and you nodded.

"I've never liked the spotlight" You said.

"Neither does Bruce" Tim said and you finally put your pen down.

"Bruce has always cared very little about what others think of him, from a young age he knew he didn't want a normal life, he had a mission, the price for which is that he must maintain a public persona" You explained.

"You don't like Batman." Tim simply stated.

"It's more complicated than that"

"Does that mean you were like this with Dick and Jason?" Tim asked and you could hear the desperation, hidden in his voice.

"I helped raise Dick, it was different and for reference I gave Bruce hell for making him Robin" You told Tim and your eyes wandered to a family photo on your desk, Bruce, Dick and Jason. From a family photo day you and Alfred practically had to force them into.

"Jason was a troubled boy he-"

"Met Bruce by stealing the batmobile's tires, I know" He cut off and you sighed.

"Stop cutting me off and listen. Jason had his issues and he needed more help than Dick or Bruce but he had so much potential. Jason- he was smart and compassionate with the biggest heart I've ever seen for someone who was hurt so much" Your voice wavered and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"When he died..." you began but trailed off.

"Bruce changed"

"We all changed. And I hoped I would never see someone wear that costume again. So I apologize if I've made you feel out of place in this family. You are welcomed here Tim but I refuse to support someone else wearing that suit after my nephew died because of it!" It was moments like these that made you thankful your office was sound proof.

"So, I'll always be the Robin whose not supposed to be?" Tim asked solemnly and you held your head as you took a deep breath.

"You sound like Bruce when he talks about his parents" Tim said.

"Neither of you know how to deal with grief." He stood up and grabbed his bag.

"Without Dick, without Jason, he's reckless and angry and irresponsible. Batman needs a Robin and Gotham needs Batman so..." His voice lost all his power as he stood with his backpack by the door he was just a scared little kid. The poor boy wasn't even 15 yet and was small and thin.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time Mr. Wayne" Tim said and you stood up to stop him.

"Tim wait" You placed your hands on his shoulders.

"This family, it's complicated. It always was. You don't- I don't want you to feel that I don't support you. I'm sorry Tim, you deserved better" Before you could do anything Tim was sobbing and you simply held him as he cried, just like you did with Jason, and Dick and Bruce once upon a time.

"It's okay Tim" You said as you helped him sit down on one of the comfy chairs in your office.

- You cancelled the rest of your work day and took Tim back to your apartment and for the first time since you met him you sat down and talked

- he told you about life in the manor and school, about his life before. The time his parents took him to the circus and he saw the flying graysons, the nights he'd spent looking out at the bat signal or out on the streets trying to see Batman and Robin. And you told him about yourself, your family. How you met Clark and funny stories you have of Bruce and Dick. It was pleasant.

- You two went to pick Jon up and you drove Tim back to Gotham and dropped him off at the manor

- "Master Y/N, we were not expecting you and master Jon back along with master Timothy" Alfred said when you got out of the car.

- "I took the today off after lunch so I thought I'd drop him off myself, besides Jon loves car rides" You joked and ruffled Tim's hair. "Feel free to drop by Metropolis or call if you need anything Timmy" You said and got back in making sure Jon was still asleep (he was) before driving back.

- "I assume it went well" Alfred said as he escorted Tim inside the manor and the preteen smiled.

- "yeah, it was great" He said.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Everyone is Afraid of Something, Even the Strongest Man Alive (Justified Sin Chapter 2)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A/N: This is early bc I’m supposed to be studying for my test but I’m blaming Robert Pattinson for sending me straight into a manic episode bc this is literally all I can think about rn. so here you go. same warnings apply. Domestic violence. don’t read if it’s a trigger

Taglist: @pop-rocks-and-skittles​ 

“How much do you know about Mrs. Matteson?” Bruce asked Gordon later that week.

“Who? The girl we pulled over a few months ago? Not much. She keeps quiet, runs that diner. Food’s good there. I hear Bruce Wayne of all people is a regular, so I guess it must be something if it’s enough to get that man to leave his house. She shows up for the events she has to for her husband, doesn’t go to the ones she doesn’t. Don’t know much else. I feel bad for her, though. She seemed like she was on her last thread that day we pulled her over,” Gordon replied. “Want me to do a check on her?”

“No. No. That will just scare her,” he said, shaking his head. She’d assume he, Bruce, sent a cop to check the house out and maybe never speak to him again.

“I didn’t feel good sending her back to that house. We shouldn’t have let her go.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you check on her? She seemed to like you.”

“Somehow I don’t think that will go over well either.”

Every night, he waited for the signal, and every Monday he showed up at the diner, counting new bruises almost every week, and every time he responded to the signal, it was never you.

“Did you send the signal this time?” Bruce asked you once the restaurant was cleared out.

“I didn’t need to. When things get bad, I run, and I drive far away. He doesn’t follow me. He knows what it would look like to have a car chase in the streets with his wife.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

“Yeah. I promised you I’d call him if I needed help. Haven’t gotten to that point yet. Stop. Pushing. Me. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be a Batman fanboy.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bruce snapped, maybe a little too harshly, and he makes himself soften his hardened facial expression.

You giggled, maybe the first time he’d heard you laugh with mirth. “You talk about him all the time. Think you’ve got a crush, hm?”

Bruce grimaced, remembering why he never used to leave the house in the first place.

“I do not talk about him all the time. I just want you to get help.”

“Touchy, hm? You ever meet him?”

“No.”

“Really? I would’ve thought you’d have more pull to do so, considering you’re Bruce fucking Wayne,” you grinned, leaning across the counter.

“It’s just Bruce Wayne, thank you.”

“It was for emphasis. Be happy I didn’t call you Brucie," you teased.

“Don’t ever.”

“Oh, come on. We’re friends now, right?” You asked, nudging the one hand he kept on the counter. He looked down at his hand, then up at you.

“I suppose.”

“Jesus, you don’t have to act like it would kill you to admit it.”

“I’m just afraid if I agree you’ll think it’s a free pass to call me whatever you want,” he said, the hint of a smile on his lips.

You startled him, then, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. “Are you sick? Was that almost a joke?”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered longer than your touch. He wanted to say he hated the teasing, nicknames, and subtle invasion of personal space… but he didn’t. Not from you, at least.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” you said, tilting your head a little, obviously studying him for some reaction.

“The magazines lie.”

“I know. No one knows you, I guess, but I guess I just thought you’d be… colder. But you… I don’t know. I think you’ve got a sixth sense for these things. When I met you at that gala, I don’t know, it felt like you were seeing right through me. That’s why I said it felt like I’d met you before. But it takes one to know one, right? You’ve dealt with a lot of pain yourself.”

“Mm.”

“Sorry. I guess I should’ve known you don’t like to talk about yourself. You’ve had ample opportunity to do so over the years and you always refuse interviews.”

“There isn’t much to say. You’re the one with an interesting life. I just manage my parents’ legacy and try not to fuck it up. That’s easier to do from the shadows. You run a restaurant, you know the city gossip better than most, you’re involved in politics for better or worse…”

“My husband’s an abusive piece of shit…” you interjected. “Mm. So interesting.”

“That isn’t funny,” he said sternly, looking at you intently. “It’s not.”

“You really have to lighten up, I mean, fuck, Bruce. If you don’t use humor to cope, how the hell are you supposed to deal with anything?”

“But you could—"

“I could die. I fucking know that. How am I supposed to deal with it without making a few jokes at my expense?”

Bruce frowned, then nodded. “Fine. But I’ll never think it’s funny.”

“Aw. You think some of my jokes are funny, though, don’t you, Brucie?” You asked, a glimmer in your eye.

Instead of grimacing, he gave in and broke into a smile. He didn’t laugh, and god, you could be irritating, but you hit just the right buttons that he couldn’t be mad at you.

“I knew you did. You’ve got a nice smile. You should use it more often. Become the pretty boy millionaire Gotham wants to thirst over. Do a few risqué photoshoots. I think you’d get Batman’s attention that way,” you laughed, raised an eyebrow, always pushing further. “You’d be quite the power couple. I could see it.”

Now you’d done it, and he was laughing. He felt it before it happened, bubbling in his chest before he exhaled, the sound foreign to even him. For a split second, he almost wished he could tell you the truth so you’d know just how funny you were.

“Oh, I knew I’d get to you one day,” you giggled, leaning over and ruffling his hair. It was almost too much to process, the laughs, the quick touches, the compliments, your smile, your beauty, the fact you wanted to be friends with him - and not for his money or his fame. Not for any ulterior motive: you liked him. When was the last time he had a friend who knew his face?

“You do have a nice smile, though,” you told him again, cupping his cheek with your hand, strands of his dark hair falling onto your skin. He can still feel the heat from your fingers, the gentleness of your touch now, as he reminisces, lurking in the floors of the hospital.

He wanted to tell you had a nice smile, too. That your laugh is like music, that he was happy your husband couldn’t take that away from you because it made you so titillating to talk to. That he never knew what to expect to come out of your mouth and he hated to love and loved to hate being kept on his toes whenever he was with you. But he didn’t say anything. Maybe he acted too awkward, maybe gave off the impression that he didn’t want you to touch him. You started to pull your hand away, and it was a split-second decision but he caught your hand with his before you could bring it closer to your body. You smiled and he smiled back, his hand covering yours on the counter.

There were a few moments of comfortable silence, but he saw a storm brewing behind your eyes as your expression faltered and changed to one of worry.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

You nodded, swallowed hard, and placed your other hand on his, rubbing circles with your thumb. “Don’t push me on this, please but I… I… sometimes I’m scared that I won’t be able to run. It’s always been what I’ve done when he hurts me bad enough, and if I needed to I suppose I could haul ass to light the signal, but what if he won’t let me leave, Bruce? Because that’s what I’m really scared of,” you said, and he could see it as you spoke, as each word came from your mouth your eyes watered and your lip trembled.

He placed his other hand on yours, stacking your hands, and then he flipped both his hands under yours so he’s holding both of them in his. Looking up at you, his blue eyes met your tear-filled ones. “Then you call me,” he said. “And I’ll signal him myself. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, sniffling a little.

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

You snickered. “Heard that one before. You know, I trust you, Bruce, against my own better judgment. I hope you don’t make me live to regret that.”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, then processing what you said he asked, “What do you mean, ‘heard that one before?”

You sighed, releasing your hands from his, walking over to grab the coffee pot behind you to refill your mugs. “You’re not the first person I’ve trusted. Let’s just leave it at that.”

———

You called him for the first time that week when he was out at a crime scene with Gordon. He called you back as soon as he left, his blood like ice in his veins.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone sounding frantic even to himself. He consciously makes the effort to pitch his voice a little higher, hoping no one around him noticed.

“I’m okay. You don’t need to signal. I just need stitches again. Urgent care is closed and I don’t feel like sitting in the emergency department for hours. Can you meet me? Or do you think I should head up there? It’s already up, so he must be out, right?”

“Where are you right now?”

“My car.”

“You’re safe?”

“I’m safe.”

“Good,” he said, glancing around at the people around him. The last thing he needed is for you to say something that would reveal his identity. He desperately wanted to see you like Bruce, wanted to stitch you back together again like he did a few weeks ago where you could see his face. But your safety was more important than these selfish feelings and wants and you didn’t believe Bruce could be of much assistance, but the jury was still out for your belief in Vengeance and he wanted to do all he could to make you believe that he could do something, anything, for you. “I think you should head up there. I’m sorry I can’t meet you tonight.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s late. If you can do stitches I think he could, right?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know, pretty boy.”

It’s all he could do not to blush. He knew you meant it as a backhanded compliment because fuck, it’s not like Bruce Wayne is getting injured at his job… but… it’s almost not fair. And he knew he couldn’t blame you for it, couldn’t hate you for it - for all he knew you had no idea you were making him feel this way. You had enough to worry about before you thought about how you made him feel when you called him pretty or said he had a nice smile.

“Get up there before you bleed out,” he said stiffly.

“Okay, okay. If he even shows up.”

“Worth a shot. If he doesn’t, call me again.”

Of course, he showed up. When he gets there, you’re already there, a blue cardigan wrapped around your shoulders as you sit with your legs dangling off the edge.

“Well, fuck. Didn’t think you still came up here this late,” you said, turning your head around to look at him. “My friend kept pushing me to try.”

“What are you doing up here?” Bruce asked.

You shrugged. “Just wanted to chat.”

“Highly doubt that. Are you hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“How bad?”

You got up, then, walking over to him, and he could see the blood seeping through your shirt. You’d held a towel there to keep pressure, but it was still bleeding badly.

“Jesus,” he exhaled. “What happened?”

“I stabbed him in the ribs with a knife a few weeks ago because it was the only way to get him to stop choking me,” you muttered. “I knew I’d pay for it. Just didn’t know when.”

A murderous rage heated his veins, one like he’d never quite felt before. He’d wanted to kill certain people before, but never like this. He could almost see the smug look on your husband’s face in an attempt to justify this, could almost hear him saying “the bitch did it to me first”.

“Let me bring him in.”

“I told you what would happen. Can you please just stitch me? Or I’ll go to the ER.”

He sighed, pulling the medical thread from his pocket. “You’re not safe in that house.”

“He’s hurt me worse before. I’ll have a good couple of weeks before he does anything again. He’s already blowing up my phone that he’s sorry, that he loves me, that he will never do it again.” You laid down and exposed your stomach to him, and he cleaned the dried blood around the wound. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep, but it was deep enough that it wasn’t going to close on its own.

“Do you believe it?“ he asked, trying to keep his voice level as he starts to wipe your skin with alcohol.

“Do you know how much I want to? Fucking Christ, that hurts like a bitch, Batty,” you said through clenched teeth as he started to suture your skin. “You don’t have any painkillers?”

“No.”

“Well, fuck, what use are you, huh, Batty? The Tylenol I took an hour ago is not fucking cutting it, let me tell you that right now. Fuck. Maybe next time I will go to the ER even if it’s not worth their million fucking questions. I’ve shown up there too many times, now, anyway. Dave doesn’t like that. Gotta give him less ammo, you know?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know what it was like in your head, constantly calculating what you could do in a given moment to make it less likely that this man you married, this man that was supposed to love you would be less likely to hurt you. You were crying again, and he didn’t know if it was from the pain from the amateur stitching or if it was from your situation - and fuck, maybe it was both.

“Almost done,” he said gruffly, trying to go as fast as he could without fucking it up. He wishes you knew it was the same hands-on your stomach as the ones that embraced your hands earlier this week, but how could you when he concealed every recognizable part of himself? Whoever he met you as, you were always just you, unconcealed, snarky, strong. But you’d met him under pretenses and even he struggled to figure out which one he wanted you to think of as the real him.

“I still can’t believe you showed up.”

“Believe it.”

“Maybe my friend is right to have a crush on you. Come out here swooping like a knight in shining armor or whatever, fix me up in the dead of night, Jesus.”

“Your friend?”

You laughed, and he felt the vibration as he rolled his eyes, stopping his maneuvers. You winced at the pain.

“Maybe don’t do that when I’m trying to put you back together,” he grumbled.

“Point taken.”

“The friend?” He asked again, and he felt incredibly selfish to try to get you to talk about him to himself, but he had to know what you thought about him without you seeing his face.

“Bruce Wayne, of all people, can you believe that? He helped my diner kick off, and I don’t know. We’ve just been talking a lot. It’s been nice. He’s the one who pushed me to contact you again after I told him about our lovely first encounter. Said you could help me. Think he has a crush. Talks about you a lot. Want his number?”

“I’m good,” he said. “You’re all set.”

“What, you’re too good for Bruce Wayne? I mean, the magazines are wrong. He’s not cold, or rude. He’s just shy, maybe a little standoffish. He’s got… I don’t know… this depth. I bet he’d write you amazing love poems. He’s… something special. He’s not bad to look at either. Not at all.”

“Sounds like you’ve got the crush,” he said before really thinking.

“What? No,” you said, blushing, sitting up and grimacing. “Jesus, Batty, mind yourself. I’m just trying to sell him to you. The power couple of Gotham, you know?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t date,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, damn, Batty. Should’ve known. Too brooding, the weight of Gotham on your shoulders, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Who are you really, anyway? You weren’t born with that mask.”

“For all you know, I was.”

“Figured you weren’t going to tell me. Thought I’d try.”

“What can I do to help you? I don’t like sending you home like this,” he said, desperate to change the topic.

“I sleep in the diner. I had a bed put in there for a reason. I won’t be going back for a few days.”

“But you will go back,” he said. “And he will do this again. And eventually, it will get worse—"

“But it always gets better first.”

“If he’s going to start using weapons… it’s a lot different than getting hit.”

You laid back down, closing your eyes. “I’m too fucking tired for this, Batty.”

He crouched down next to you, his breath fanning the skin of your face. “Do you want to live?”

You opened your eyes, staring at him intently. “Sometimes I don’t know.”

“Let me teach you self-defense.”

You laughed for a good solid minute. “The knife was a desperate last-minute resort. I don’t do that shit. I run. I’m fast, believe me. Those years of high school track helped me a lot.”

“You’re going to need to learn how to block weapons. I think I’m equipped to teach that. I’m not going to teach you how to hurt him back if you don’t want that. Just enough to block him so you can get away. Okay?”

“Yeah, with what time? You’ve got a city to save.”

“You’re a Gotham resident, aren’t you?”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t know who’s worse, you or Bruce. I’m just one girl, Batty. Go save the city. Don’t worry about me. Lose that Jesus complex and lose it fast because you can’t save everybody. Least of all me."

“No. I can’t. Not if you won’t let me help you. You don’t want me to put him away. My only other option is to help you fight back.”

“Why the hell are you doing this, anyway? Something awaken in you when you pulled me over?”

Yes. You could say that. A fiery rage in the pit of his stomach but it’s grown into something more than that, something much more complex and dangerous.

“Are you deliberately being this annoying because you think it’s going to make me give up?”

“Aw, look at you, figuring me out.” You closed your eyes again.

“It’s not going to work. Get up. I’m bringing you to the diner. Meet me back up here in three days. Four AM.”

“Four AM? Are you trying to kill me?” you protested, your eyes opening again just so you could roll them at him.

“The opposite. Come here,” he said, gesturing with his open arms.

“Whoa, wait, wait, we’re going to fly?” You asked. “Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so exhausted. I’m not even really going to be able to enjoy this.”

“Trust me. You won’t be able to fall asleep.”

You grinned. “Don’t drop me, Batty.”

“I’ll drive your car back later.”

“Mm. Thank you.”

Wordlessly, he strapped you to his chest with his harness, your body flush against him something that was going to keep him up until the morning even with all the layers of clothing between your skin. As you flew, your whoops and hollers were enough to make him break out into a grin as he navigated safely to the diner. Even when you should be completely broken and hollow, you weren’t. Sure, you were testy, sarcastic, upset, but you weren’t hopeless even if you wanted him to believe you were. There was still so much life in you, so much strength.

Reaching the doorway, he unstrapped you, and you turned around, hugging him hard enough he lets out a grunt of surprise. “I… I’ll take you up on the offer. Okay?”

“Good choice. Be on time.”

You placed your hand on his cheek again but it’s different this time; there was a different energy in the air here as you stare into his eyes, your cardigan halfway down your shoulders. You looked like a mess, to be fair, but you were still beautiful, with windswept hair, a tear-stained face, bloody torso, and all. Before he realized it, you were standing on your toes, leaning up, and your mouth was on his, your hand moving from his cheek to the back of his neck. He started to kiss back, pulling you closer, but his brain kept screaming at him to slow down and think. Eventually, he did, and the kiss seemed to last for hours as he fought with himself internally. He wanted to give in to the kiss, give into you, tell you he wanted you, that you drove him up the wall… but not like this. He wanted you to want Bruce, but Bruce wasn’t going to teach you self-defense, be pressed against your sweaty body in awkward positions, it was going to be “Batty” as you so irritatingly and affectionately referred to him.

Still.

He couldn’t do this like this.

Gently, he pushed you away, and there were fresh tears in your eyes, and it’s enough to start to break his heart. How could he reject you? He had to constantly remind himself he was doing the right thing. You couldn’t love a man in a mask. It was dangerous to get involved with Bruce, but it was a death sentence to get involved with Batman.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, tears running down your face again. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just the… adrenaline and I’m upset and I… I know where this leads anyway. I know better. I’m sorry. You don’t have to meet me—“

“Hey, hey. Shh,” he whispered. “I’m still going to help you. I just can’t… we can’t.”

“Right. You don’t date. I’m sorry.”

“It’s overwhelming,” he stated in an attempt to be sympathetic, but that was an understatement. His head felt like it was spinning at tornado-level speeds. He could only imagine what you felt.

“It’s not even that… I… I’m just lonely. I figured you can’t get hurt, not by Dave at least, and maybe it’d help me forget, but I… I just feel worse now,” you said, looking down at your feet, your voice small and quiet.

“Don’t. It was a mistake. That’s all it was. I won’t hold it against you,” he said. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in a few nights.”

Watching you pull your cardigan back over your shoulders, watching you walk into the diner, his heart swelled and his head ached. You wanted him, the wrong part of him, the better part of him, the dangerous part of him, the person he wanted to be all the time. Without the mask, without the suit, without the lenses, who was he? Maybe like you’d said, a pretty boy millionaire with nothing much else of substance to offer. How would that help you?

You were accepting what little help he could offer short of killing your husband. It’s what he wanted from the start. Wasn't it beyond selfish, damn-near verging on narcissistic to want more from you?

NEXT CHAPTER

[to-the-stars8]

Moments Of Our Life

Batmom x Batfamily Chapter 1

2-Home

There was one common aspect of all of Bruce’s personalities (Batman, Brucie Wayne, and just Bruce), and that was the fact that he was overprotective of his family. You had noticed it more since you two brought Dick home. The first time it really caught your attention, was when your husband would go around the house double-checking all the locks and surveying the yard before leaving for his nightly patrol. One night, when you were struck with a bout of insomnia, you found him checking in on Dick. 

Bruce was still in his cowl and cape, just returning home you assumed, but it was different. Instead of the fierce, looming Dark Knight, he seemed more like the shadow of a worried eight-year-old boy. He stood watching over Dick for a few minutes, making sure no dreams of his parent’s death plagued him as Bruce had experienced as a child. Then, he placed a hand on the boy’s hair, like he was making sure he was really okay, whispering, “Sleep well, kiddo,” before leaving.

The next time you had seen it happen was with Alfred, the one person you never thought needed protecting. Alfred, though older, seemed a lot more capable than Bruce at a lot of things. Often, you forgot that the man was in his mid-fifties by now with how much grace he moved with. Yet, Bruce seemed fully aware of his age. Alfred would try to fix something high up in the cave or move a semi-heavy table to clean, and he would stop the butler before he even began. 

“I’ll do it, Alfred. You can tell me how,” Bruce would say, already removing whatever was in his hands. No matter how much he protested, Bruce wouldn’t relent and he would end up doing whatever task it was that had to be done. You knew Alfred appreciated it even though he was a tad bit insulted at the slight declaration of his age, but he knew it was more for Bruce’s benefit than his. 

Now, when it came to you, you didn’t really notice the overprotectiveness. Maybe it was the fact that all the things Bruce did for your protection could easily be written off as your husband just being himself. Then, after your observation with Dick, you realized that he had been doing some of the same things with you. 

At galas, when he acted like Brucie Wayne for the public eye, his hand never left yours. His excuse was that he needed to seem like a bumbling idiot who couldn’t figure out how to behave without his wife. It wasn’t until you had a run-in with Lex Luthor, who had openly flirted with you in the rudest way possible, that you realized he did it so he could be close. Galas were the place villains and rich people loved to be petty, and Bruce tried to protect you from both. 

The more you thought about it, particularly remembering that night he checked on Dickie, you remember that he wasn’t really Batman at that moment. He was simply a boy scared to see another family member in pain.  

You stared at the canopy of your bed thinking more of the idea of Bruce’s protectiveness when you heard your bedroom door open. Bruce was just taking off his cowl when he noticed you awake. 

“Hey,” He said softly. “Can you not sleep tonight?”

You sat up, nodding. “Can’t stop thinking.”

Throwing the cowl and cape on the bench at the foot of the bed, he sighed in relief before addressing your comment. “What are you thinking about?” He started to strip out of the rest of the suit. 

“You, per usual,” You smiled, sliding the covers off before moving out of bed. “And Dick. And Alfred.”

“Is there something wrong?” He stopped moving to look at you. 

Sighing, you grabbed onto one of the posts of the bed. “I was just thinking of you guys. Nothing bad was coming from it.”

Bruce smirked at you, stepping forward to give you a peck on the lips. The smell of sweat coming off of him on closer inspection made you jerk back a bit. “You need a bath.”

Bruce laughed a bit or tried to. It came out too coarse and tired to sound like a real laugh. “I know. Had a run-in with Killer Croc.”

“He’s not a nice one,” You said, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom. “I guess none of them are nice, huh?”

“No, they’re not.” He said, a bit amused. 

You threw a smile over your shoulder at him as you sat on the edge of the tub to start running a bath. Bruce silently grabbed your favorite bubbles and bath salts, pouring them in once the water was high enough. You let your husband slide in first, helping him by letting holding his hand. He would never say it out loud because Batman was supposed to be strong and able to take anything, but, more than often, Bruce hurt. He was sore when he didn’t rest and it showed in the small steps. 

Once he was settled, you stripped yourself of your clothes, tying back your hair before moving in next to him. Bruce tried to convince you to let him wash, but as you moved onto your knees, your breasts becoming level with his face, he became quiet. You messaged soap into his skin, still thinking about how protective he was. He hummed, pleased as you messaged all the soreness from him. You huffed out a laugh, glad that you were the only one who could do such a thing to him. 

“Lex Luthor put a statement out about you in the news,” You said suddenly, trying to make conversation to fill the silence. Bruce hummed an uninterested noise, a type of non-verbal language you were more than used to. “The dude’s a prick, saying that you’re not up to take the problems of Gotham. I’m willing to fight him for you if you want.”

“The man’s stopped Superman before,” Bruce opened his eyes to look at you. 

You shrugged, rubbing soap onto his neck. “He tried to stop Superman before. He’s such a loser, babe.”

“He’s still dangerous,” The tone of Bruce’s voice was worried. “Please don’t fight him.”

“Then don’t invite him to any of our parties,” You giggled, now rinsing the soap off. “Gotta protect my man, you know?”

“I can deal with him.”

You squished Bruce’s cheeks, something he loved you doing, before placing a kiss on his puckered lips. “So can I, my love.”

“My love,” Bruce repeated, letting his head fall onto your chest. You ran your fingers in his hair, scratching. He always got so weak when you called him that. “I love you.”

It was only in the most placid moments did he say that to you, so you took it for every ounce of your being that you could. Fuck, you were so in love with this mess of a man. 

“I love you,” You kissed his hair. “You know that.” He made a noise that you could only decipher as a pleased yes. You held him like that, his head on your chest as he kept your body against his. 

There was one common thing between Bruce’s three personalities; his protectiveness. And, as you sat there, there was another thing; his love.