#har-rison-s writes batman

[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 15

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she’s from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson’s universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn’t trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues??

author's note: hey all :) mask & seek is forreal back this time. i think this is my favourite series ever, sooooo.... i really want to like actually finish it. there's not a lot left honestly, but don't worry, no spoilers. i hope you guys are still tuning into this, i know it's been like..... more than a year since i published 14, and almost two years since i started mask & seek too.... wow. that's insane. so! bruce and y/n are so cute in this. happy reading <3

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part fourteen

word count: 4.7k

warnings: little bit of smut towards the end, it's pretty short, some anxieties, self-doubting

gif credit goes to author! (i know it's neil but i needed a sorta domestic bruce gif and there are none!!! i cannot find them!!)

“okay, here goes,” y/n mutters with a heavy heart and a chest that seems to have grown ten times its usual weight. she sticks the porta filter back into its place in the coffee machine and faces vanessa with a heavy sigh. everything is heavy as of now, most of all - her own heart. vanessa meets y/n’s dark eyes with her bright ones, “i... will be quitting this job soon.” y/n finally tells her. 

immediately she thinks her voice was too quiet, too unsure, too dark even, maybe? and maybe she uttered the words too fast. but really, no matter what voice she uses or how she says it, the news stay the same, and they still break vanessa’s heart. her eyes grow wide and her mouth hangs slightly agape. “what? you’re leaving?” she asks in nearly a whisper, shock and sadness all over her features. y/n can do nothing else but nod. “why? are you going somewhere? did something bad happen yesterday or something?”

“no, no, no, not at all,” y/n answers with a shake of her head. god, does she tell her the truth? it’s been a only a few days since that faithful night and morning that were followed by this decision being made, officially. it’s been hard for y/n to muster the courage to tell her co-workers, much less her boss, about leaving this job, but it’s also been killing her not to tell them. so here she is, choosing vanessa as the first person she tells. mainly because vanessa has become sort-of her best friend, and she trusts her the most, “i, uh... i got a really good job offer. it’s something completely different, but actually in the field or, value margin, that i wanna work in, and have wanted to for... a while. basically since i was a kid.”

“not a team of crazy scientists, i hope?” vanessa asks, now her face changing to doubt. it makes y/n laugh, and she does so while shaking her head. “okay, what is it, then? some genie came up to you and offered you three wishes, one of them being getting your childhood dream job?” vanessa gets more casual and closer again. y/n chuckles again.

“something similar to that,” y/n nods along, “only the genie is a man who happens to have very, you know, thick pockets,” y/n wiggles her eyebrows, and vanessa laughs, “he’s honestly the kind of man who’d fulfil more than three of my wishes, he’s made that quite clear.”

vanessa grows an ear-to-ear wide grin and gives y/n a wicked look. “is this about bruce wayne coming to visit you here those days back?” she asks and steps even closer to y/n, so their conversation would get more private in the café with nearly all full tables, “did you guys work it out? and how do you even know him? he’s a very hard man to catch outside his enormous house, much less to meet.”

now, bruce had predicted that this kind of question would come up for both of them, and that they couldn’t just dodge it. he also predicted that people would want a clear status of their relationship, to know how the business would really work and how it came to work at all. his and y/n’s conversation about it came to start on something like...

“i don’t want to be a faceless fling of yours in the eyes of the media and public,” y/n admits with a frown on her face, and bruce looks to her.

“well, you’d be the first one to have that title,” bruce faintly jokes. y/n gives him a curious look, still thinking that it sounds kind of impossible, “at least we’re the same age. they’ll take you somewhat seriously.”

“somewhat seriously?” she echoes, now turning to face him completely, one leg bent at the knee before her, on which she lazily splays her arm. bruce shakes his head.

“trust me, i know this so-called industry,” he clarifies, “the press love the old billionaires and their young fling-of-the-months.” bruce says and has a dark-humoured chuckle. it’s sad, really, that old men go after much more younger women, and that the press make all their money off it. bruce knows that. he’d never want to be that kind of man, and he’d never wish that fate upon any girl. “what do you want to be to the public?” bruce asks y/n as he looks to her again, his shoulders hunched forward.

she shrugs. “don’t want to lie about anything that i am, or what we are,” she says truthfully, “but then again – tell the truth, and they find a way to make up lies, anyway.” y/n chuckles and shrugs her shoulders, looking thoughtfully out of the window.

bruce wears a faint smile on his face. “how does being my wife sound to you?” he asks her in a soft tone. that question, though it’s just a casual one mentioning an option for their title, makes y/n look at bruce again. she smiles, too, her head tilted to the side as it’s resting on her knee now. 

“for the papers or... in actuality?” she clarifies. bruce smiles wider. he wouldn’t mind having her as his wife, though we all know that’s an understatement, but he needs her consent, of course. he already feels closest to her now, sitting with her in her apartment, and he felt close to her and with her when she was at his mansion. marriage is only a document, two rings and a ceremony. he doesn’t need that to know that he loves her, to have proof that they’ll want and belong to each other forever. 

so bruce shrugs for an answer. “whichever one you want.” he answers truthfully. it’s really all up to her. it’s her image to society, after all. and yes, of course, the medias and public change it to what they want it to be, but at the end of the day, she is the foundation of herself and how she is viewed. y/n smiles again, this time with a hum.

“neither, to be honest,” she answers and turns her gaze back to the window, “i’m not ready to be someone’s wife. not because i’d be scared of commitment or anything, no. i feel you and me have committed for quite some time now,” y/n says and they both chuckle, knowing it’s true, “no, it’s just that the word has so much meaning, so much... weight and unnecessary stigma around it, you know. like, you tell a person that you’re someone’s wife, and in their eyes you’re already pregnant, have two cars, a cul-de-sac and its garage full of washing machines, fridges and driers.” bruce laughs further. “plus, being a wife is just a legal paper and title. i could be your wife in my head, if i liked the title, without any legal, official papers.” bruce has quieted down, and just smiles now. it kills him to realise more and more, with each day and each new conversation with her, just how similar they are. they both see marriage the same way. “i wouldn’t say no if you proposed at any point in the future, though,” y/n clarifies and bruce chuckles again, like a school boy, “just making sure you heard me.”

“i hear you,” he confirms with a nod and that smile still on his face, “how double standard of me to not need to worry about my title. what if i wanted to be your husband or your fling of the month?” he suggests, and that makes y/n laugh loudly. she hops off the window sill, only wearing one of her huge thrifted sweaters and a pair of pajama shorts, and still giggling, tiptoes her way over to bruce, her thin socks touching the wooden floor of her apartment. he watches her all the way of doing so, and now that she’s comfortably sitting close next to him on the sofa, his eyes take on a more private gaze at her. she makes one of her beautiful smiles at him and breathes a short sigh. “what about you being my... girlfriend?” bruce now suggests, his voice a bit quieter. 

y/n’s smile grows even wider, and her mushed cheeks are complimented by a deep crimson blush. she smiles so wide her eyes are barely visible, but the small portion of them still visible shine with the few tears gathered in them. just pure happy tears, nothing else. she shrugs her shoulders and then moves closer to bruce. his body grows immediately aware of the proximity. “well, my only condition would be...” y/n starts to say, and sighs quickly again, “that you’ll be my boyfriend.” she says. and she thinks god, there must be more age appropriate terms for boyfriend and girlfriend for people their age, something between boyfriend and husband, and girlfriend and wife. partner seems too formal, as well. she feels too young saying saying boyfriend, and too old saying partner. but, she guesses, since they’re just playing with these terms, also the ones the medias like to use, there’s no harm in saying boyfriend and girlfriend.

bruce cracks a wide smile at that, something only y/n gets to see and even she rarely does, and his pale cheeks blush a rose pink for a moment, too. on the rare occasion y/n sees him blush, she always takes note of how the rose pink brings out the soft brown of his eyes, and the gentleness of his eyes altogether. they’re usually dark, filled with emotion to the brim, and encircled by that dark matter he uses. but his eyes are gentle, as is he. the light brown irises look up into y/n’s eyes with care and ease, and a smile still faintly displays itself on bruce’s lips, “i think that’s a good deal.” he says in a voice deep and soft. 

y/n smiles wide again and gets the closest to him that she can. legs entangled, y/n partly laying in his lap, faces close but hands still withdrawn from each other. “yeah?” she asks him in a faint whisper, and now her hand glides over the side of bruce’s face, like he’s often done to her, and she adores it. she only expects more of that in the future. 

his eyelids flicker as he looks up at her, and any expression except adoration and submission fades away from his features. bruce only gives her a nod in response and y/n smiles. the world goes completely quiet as she presses her lips down onto his. only their inhaling of breath can be heard as bruce encircles her waist with his arms and pulls her body impossibly closer to his own. y/n holds both sides of his face now, continuing to kiss him—still hoping she’s good at it—and draws in breaths through her nose because the event and sensation of kissing bruce is drawing out all air and suffocating her in the best way possible.

“we, uh...” y/n’s mind fogs a bit from that memory, but only pleasantly so, “we met through friends in the justice department.” she tells her, hoping it’ll be enough. she and bruce planned out a small cover story for them to use, involving an old friend of bruce’s in the justice department, who happens to be on vacation right now. 

“oh, you never told me you had friends there!” vanessa muses. “tell me exactly how you met, i need all the details.” 

y/n chuckles, and hopes the nervousness in her chuckle doesn’t appear too strong. “it’s nothing romantic, i promise,” she tells vanessa, “they visited me here on a closing shift after some dinner they’d had, and bruce happened to be with them.” y/n says, but she knows she’s gotta do better than that. funny, how her whole life here in gotham has been built on lies she’s told, and she’s suddenly nervous to lie. maybe it’s because she has to lie to vanessa. but she’s done that before, too. “he told me recently that i struck him in the first moment he saw me. i do remember how awkward he was when he tried to order a drink.” y/n says and makes a small laugh again, but this time it’s genuine because she knows how awkward bruce, in truth, can get sometimes.

“i don’t care what you say, to me that is romantic,” vanessa replies. y/n shakes her head. the reason why she hates to be lying right now could be that the circumstances of how they met are much better than this made-up story. much more special, “wish i could have been there to see it.” vanessa admits. y/n doesn’t like the light this cover story paints her in, either. rich business man falls for the woman serving him. in her eyes that feels very weird for some reason. maybe it’s her feminist character that finds it weird. 

but judging by vanessa’s face, the cover story and y/n’s acting are natural and convincing enough. y/n wishes she could spill the truth to vanessa, because god knows she trusts her, but she can’t tell her the truth. it would jepordise everything. “you would have got second-hand embarrassment, v,” y/n tells her and both women laugh. 

“so, what, are you gonna be working for wayne enterprises now?” vanessa clarifies.

“sort of,” y/n answers with a shrug, “you’ll see. but don’t tell anyone else yet. and don’t tell anyone outside of work, ever. they’ll be all over you, and i do want us to make our relationship public, not anyone else.”

“yeah, yeah, you and I both know how tabloids work around here,” vanessa answers, “even though i’d love to tell everyone, i promise you on sebbie’s life that i won’t tell a soul.” she promises y/n on her cat’s life and does a cross over her heart. y/n chuckles at the superstition element. “you’ll have to deal with them a lot, though. i’m sorry for that.” 

“yeah, thanks,” y/n replies quietly, taking that vanessa has mentioned the thing she’s most afraid of. she guesses vanessa knows the character assassination women face in gotham if they’re on any tabloid or news banner. y/n is in for a big portion of that—people don’t take too kindly to women who work in the same company for their male partners or spouses. it’ll be even worse for y/n perhaps, because she’ll be getting a job at wayne enterprises because she’s in a relationship with bruce. there’s nothing wrong with it, and it was bruce’s idea. god knows what kind of speculations will spiral out of that fact...

y/n feels bruce’s tongue against her own as he brushes his hands underneath her sweater now, petting her waist gently. the image of his large calloused hands on her bare skin already entices y/n more, her sharply inhaling breath through her nose. it feels difficult to breathe now, her fingers digging into the skin of his face. bruce softly groans at the feeling, and an almost animalistic shiver sends his hands to the back of y/n’s thighs and pulls them closer to his crotch, positioning her legs on either side of his body. 

the pair nearly fall over from the impact, but y/n steadies them both with ease that her instincts provide, and they only interrupt their kissing with laughter over their slight clumsiness. she really has me feeling like a teenager, bruce thinks to himself before kissing her once more. they melt into each other so easily you’d think they were two pieces of butter on a hot pan. y/n is just about ready to eat him up, she feels this insatiable urge to touch him and kiss him all over, for as long as she has breath.

and when she’s reaching into his sweatpants and adjusting him up with her entrance, panties slid to the side, it’s almost like they sync up completely. the final transaction, the closest they can get, yet they still want more. they’re messy, panting, giggling, hands trembling as they hold onto each other and y/n rocks her hips on bruce’s length. he thinks this must be heaven – her on top of him, her chest in his face, her hands in his hair. he loves her on top of him, always did when she used to patch him up, clean his face, all those times. now their relationship has been turned around and this intimate position they’ve been in before has gained a different turn, too, one bruce was secretly thinking of beforehand.

“you’re so perfect,” he breathes against her skin, laying hot kisses across her chest, her sweater now pushed up, barely covering anything. y/n gasps at bruce’s lips on her breasts, mewls softly, and feels herself so close to release already. she pulls her sweater off over her head, it being in the way, and lets bruce pull her closer, smothering her chest with kisses, arms around her holding her securely. 

“fuck, i’m close, bruce,” she tells him in a heave of breath and bruce nods in response. it might be his familiarity with her body, and it might be her spidey-sense growing on him, but he could tell she was close before she uttered the words herself.

“i know, i’ve got you,” he tells her quietly and keeps his hands supportingly on her back. y/n looks into his eyes, her hand now on his cheek. 

“you f-feel so good inside me.” she whines and arches her back, hair messy in the air, complete surrender to her feelings. 

bruce feels himself twitch inside of her at the words, and he doesn’t resist the groan coming out from between his lips. he grips one of her thighs in his hand, one palm completely capable of covering it, and sees the bump he’s made in her, completely visible to him. “fuck,” he moans out and takes one of her hands in his, guiding it down to the bump, looking into y/n’s eyes as he does. y/n feels the phenomena there and gives him a tired smile, her cheeks sweaty and shining from it in the half-dark. 

“you’re so big, bruce, no wonder,” she compliments him and it makes them both chuckle quietly, though the praise once again goes straight to bruce’s hardness inside of her, “ah, fuck—” she starts to say, but can’t even finish her sentence, whatever it might have been, because her orgasm has taken hold of her and is washing through her entire body like an intense wave. bruce completely succumbs to her, feeling himself unloading inside of her, too, nearly in unison with her milking him in all his length. 

he tries to watch her face as she comes, not wanting to miss the sight of it, and he manages through his eyes filled with euphoria to catch the look of her. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks glistening with sweat, breasts on display for him, hair falling over her arched back. that is until she crumbles on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder and her hands gripping the back of the sofa. she pants heavily into his ear as he does the same, both of them grounding themselves back to reality. “you’re incredible, y/n,” bruce tells her and y/n smiles in response. 

she easily hops off him and finds her sweater on the floor and puts it on before sitting back down next to him. bruce stuffs himself back into his sweats and runs a hand through his hair. she turns her head to look at bruce and they smile at each other. “you’re not so bad yourself,” she tells him and kisses his lips gently. she circles her arms around his neck and they rest their foreheads together, “i could never get tired of this. physically, i mean. i think my stamina is through the roof,” y/n admits, making bruce chuckle, and she enjoys feeling the rumble of his laughter.

“i’ll try to keep up,” he promises and glances into her eyes, this time he’s made her laugh. with her he comes to realize how much he’s capable of. he can make her laugh, he can make her smile, he can make her blush, he can make her reach ecstasy-level orgasms. all of these are honours he holds dear to his heart, “i could never get tired of you.” he tells her quietly. 

“me, neither, of you,” y/n responds, then averts her eyes from bruce’s briefly, “what if i can’t take it? the press, the job? what if i’m not... good enough? classy enough?” she lets her anxieties wonder. it breaks bruce’s heart that she feels this way. 

“you’re more than good enough,” he assures her, “the press may want to say horrible things about you, and i know it’s easy to give into hate and... critique, but...” bruce shakes his head, “you’re the amazing spider-woman, without the suit and powers, too.” he makes a smile at her and y/n gives a weak one back. “you’re going to be so great at this, i already know it. and don’t be afraid to ask for help—me and alfred will be supporting you every step of the way.”

y/n sniffles quietly, but gives bruce a nod. she leans against the back of the sofa, letting go of bruce, and his skin misses her touch immediately. she rubs her eyes and sighs. “i’ve wanted to do something like this, be someone who can make a real change, all my life, since i was a little kid,” she tells him, “and everything that happened throughout growing up just made me want to do it more. and now you’ve given me this amazing opportunity to finally do something like it, and it scares me,” she turns her head to look at him again. bruce nods, understanding, and splays an arm over her frame, “i can never thank you enough for doing this for me. i’m really grateful for it. i’m just scared i won’t be any good at it.” 

“you will be,” bruce tells her, “i never expected this kind of... role would fall on me. i did know, of course, that i would have to follow in my father’s footsteps, and i was more than happy to, but doing it alone, especially when there’s so much pressure about it, and relentless work, never made me like it.” he shook his head. “i know i still want to help people, i always have, and being batman was my way of doing it, but... you’ve made me realize it’s never going to be enough. yes, i can make people fear me, but there’s always going to be someone not so afraid.” he makes a pause to clear his throat. “you remember that brothel we went to on our first night together?” he asks and y/n nods along. “we’re never gonna stop more of those being made by just... doing what we do on our night shifts. crime and corruption in gotham are like diseases. we gotta do more.” he says and y/n nods again. 

“i’m glad you see it now, too,” she tells him and runs a hand through his hair, “we will do more. but i can’t do it without you.” she says and makes a sad smile. bruce holds her moving hand in his and lays a kiss on the top of her palm. 

“you won’t,” he promises, “you won’t be alone. i’ll go to every interview, every event, anything with you.” so you won’t be alone, like i was, in this business. 

y/n chuckles. “really?”

“yeah, i promise,” bruce says with a smile and that’s what makes her believe him. she nods, “i’ll take care of you.” she presses their intertwined hands against his cheek.

“we’ll take care of each other,” she corrects him, and bruce nods, lips once again on her hand, “thank you for this. and for believing in me.” she makes a smile at him and curls herself closer to bruce. he nods at her. he’ll always believe in her. ever since that first night she took him to her apartment, he has put tremendous faith in her and she has always proved worth it. she has never disappointed him. she’s only ever surprised him and hurt him when she fled the manor that night. but never disappoint him. she should have ‘exceeds expectations’ written in her resume, in her passport. 

“always,” bruce says and kisses her lips. 

“uh, vanessa,” y/n calls for her attention again, and vanessa turns to her with welcoming eyes, “can you promise me that... you won’t say anything the press want you to say? no matter how much money they’re offering.” she requests shyly, hoping this won’t close vanessa off to her. but her friend-colleague nods. 

“of course,” she says, “i would never do that to you, man, come on,” she bumps y/n’s shoulder and they both laugh, “no amount of money could make me want to lie about you.”

“thanks so much. i’d never assume otherwise, you know, just had to make sure.” y/n says timidly and rubs her hands together. “i’ll hand in my resignation tomorrow. a month’s notice.” she tells her and vanessa nods with a smile, though she also sighs sadly.

“only a month with you left,” she says and makes a playful frown. y/n shakes her head, “it’s gonna be weird here without you.”

“i know,” y/n says in an aching voice, “it’s gonna be so strange not working here. but i’ll come here for coffee, i promise you that.”

vanessa smiles. “it’ll always be on the house,” she says and does a salute. it makes them both giggle again, but the bell ringing at the entrance door alerts them of a new customer and their laughter dies down a little. 

“that won’t go unnoticed, v,” y/n tells her as she takes her post behind the cash register. vanessa raises an eyebrow at her, “if i’m ever invited to a gala and i can take a plus one, it’s gonna be you.” y/n smiles at vanessa and she nearly bursts at the proposition.

“are you serious? but won’t mr wayne be your plus one?” she makes sure, but y/n shakes her head. 

“no, he gets his own invites. we could go as three, and i wouldn’t wanna go with anybody else, anyway,” she admits. 

“ah, just imagine – us getting ready together to go a gala! what a dream,” vanessa ties her apron around her waist again and passes y/n to stand behind the coffee machine, “your life’s definitely getting better.”

that statement sort of stops y/n in her tracks. her life is getting better, that’s true, she just hadn’t admitted that to herself yet. probably because she feels she doesn’t deserve it, isn’t worthy of such good circumstances. a great relationship, a job she’s wanted to do since she was a kid, a job in helping countless people in peril, poverty, hunger and everything else that’s eating gotham up from inside. but she doesn’t let herself enjoy it. well, truthfully, it hasn’t happened yet, and she’s already hesitant towards it.

being scared of the job is one thing – how good is she gonna be at it? how will everyone else at wayne enterprises like her? how will the media take her work? how will the people of gotham embrace her? but another thing is feeling like she doesn’t deserve it. she doesn’t come from upper class, she wasn’t born into money like bruce was. she comes from a different universe altogether. 

but shouldn’t an advocate for people who can’t defend or support themselves be someone exactly like them? maybe y/n should tell her story to the whole of gotham, about her hardships growing up, about her mother’s hardships – not the whole story in details, but just enough that would make people see that she’s just like them, no different, and wants to help. because she knows how she can help. she knows exactly what these people need because she’s been one of them. who better to protect and vouch for them than someone who comes from the same gutter? that would be a great article headline for the press, y/n thinks.

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if anyone wants a tag next time, please let me know :)

[har-rison-s]

bruce wayne masterlist

a/n: hiya! decided to put these stories in one place so it'd be easier for both me and you, the reader, to navigate them :) hope you're all enjoying my writings so far, stay tuned for more!

main masterlist

indicators:

☢ - angst

❁ - fluff

✯ - personal fave

☾ - smut

where is your jealousy  ☾ ☢ ❁ ✯

plot: reader is pissed off at bruce's attitude towards her, and so she decides to take a little revenge in her own style

pieces of you ☢ ❁ ☾

plot: reader sees bruce's battle scars, and he gets insecure about them. but she assures him they're beautiful, and she shows bruce that she really does still want him

disorder ❁ ✯ (blurb)

plot: reader and bruce dance to their favourite song :)

folders ❁ (blurb)

plot: reader is jim gordon's daughter and meets the batman in an abrupt way at the police station

series: mask & seek

plot: reader is spider-woman from the mcu. due to a mishap, she travels into gotham and is forced to lead a life there as there's no way back home. after some nights of watching how batman works, she realises they share on goal, and she wants them to work as a team together.

part one ❁ ✯

part two ❁

part three ❁

part four ☢✯

part five ❁

part six ❁

part seven ❁

part eight ❁

part nine ❁ ✯

part ten ☾ ❁

part eleven ❁ ☢

part twelve ✯ ☢

part thirteen ☢ ☾

part fourteen ❁

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[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 14

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she’s from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson’s universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn’t trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues??

author’s note: hello :) long time no mask & seek ;) it’sBACK, BABY !!!anywhos. hello. still on with this story, fighting my impulses and regular abandoning of stories – i’m sick of it, too, trust me. nearly all my fics are unfinished, all except one lol, and i feel like i didn’t end it pretty good, either. but yk... we move. so. bruce and y/n. how wonderful !!!! i love them together. but are they together, though... ;))) just kidding. we’ll see how they play out. if you find their conversations over-all and in this chapter strange, let me just say - what they have together is what they both are having for the first time. they’re 28, but they’re both literally like teenagers, and they get nervous and insecure, too. happy reading, my babies!

author’s note 2: my laptop is still waiting for my paycheck to take it to a fixing shop, i’m currently on a laptop i’ve been given for a little side-job, but i also think i’ll write a little on it hehehe, as much as i can of course because i have a lot of work hours this month, so we shall see. happy reading once again!!!

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part thirteen

word count: shit i didn't even check. ummmmmm around 8k ??

warnings: nothing much, insecurities popping up here and there, that’s it 

gif credit goes to owner / creator!

y/n is so glad she’s free of work today. she hates her time being limited, especially with bruce. she knows she has these moments with him right now, but if she had an evening shift to get to, for example, she wouldn’t appreciate them as much, even though she should. she doesn’t like having something to do after, it’s always at the back of her mind, that she’ll have to leave, even though the time with bruce now is more amazing than ever.

but today isn’t one of those days. she has the whole day free, and the next morning, as well. she doesn’t need to ask if he’s free, because she knows bruce well enough to know that he doesn’t have a work schedule, can do whatever he wants with his time, and will always be free for her. that’s what he’s showed her—that he’d sacrifice anything for her if he wants to. it makes y/n feel very special, very valued and appreciated. but it scares her a little, too—how far is he ever willing to go for her?

waking up to him in her bed is a feeling, rather, a whole event, that she loves so much. all those mornings in his manor, in that riddance bed, were magnificent on their own. but they were different—there were no words spoken, nothing established between them. they were both cautious, nervous and treading on fragile ground, not really addressing what’s going on between them – and should they, really? – letting everything unspoken just be in the air between them. somehow that made the atmosphere and moments in the room all the more sacred.

her hand now treads on the fragile skin and muscle of bruce’s chest. the man lays bare next to her in the bed, both of them partly under the covers, and it seems that bruce is still asleep. she doesn’t mean to wake him, she just repeats her ritual she remembered having those few mornings in his manor. of her just running her hands across his skin, just caressing the skin, exploring the bumps and crevices, the twists and pulls of muscle, some spots where his bones come closer to the skin’s surface, some where they hide deeper under.

she still finds it peculiar that he has no permanent scars on his chest, but has a whole library of them on his back. it’s easier for attackers to go for his back, though, she realises. he’s not looking, doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head, and they use it as an advantage. clever. explanatory. seems almost obvious now that she thinks of it.

y/n likes seeing bruce asleep. it’s a rare event that she or anyone at all can have the privilege to see, she can only guess that alfred hasn’t seen him asleep ever, or very rarely. maybe when he was younger, just a boy. she might be the only person in the world to see him in slumber. so vulnerable, anyone with malicious intent would think. but y/n thinks this state is calm, peaceful, soft. very much deserved for a man of his line of work.

it seems the tender beast has been softly rattled to consciousness after just a few minutes of caresses. the give-away is his breaths becoming deeper, louder, and his head slightly raising from the grey linen pillow underneath. y/n smiles softly, and her eyes squinting nearly closed serve as proof that she’s still sleepy. she withdraws her hand, seeing bruce’s torso also rising from the bed a bit as he comes to all his senses, drifting out of his deep slumbery state. y/n tucks her hand under her chin as she looks at him.

it takes a few seconds for bruce to situate himself and find his surroundings again, and a few moments after that to open his eyes so he could see. so he could see her. laying on her side right in front of him, in her literal morning glory. he’s sure there’s nothing more beautiful than y/n in the mornings. of course, she’s beautiful during whichever time of day, but there’s just something unbeatable about mornings. this fragile softness her entire presence has after she’s freshly woken up. her lips, her hair, her eyes. and her smile. the one that forces her sleepy facial features to rise or twist in any needed direction or position.

bruce felt the tracings of her fingertips on his back when he started to wake up, they’re actually what woke him up, in all honesty. he reaches his hand out to her, at first caressing the skin of her cheek, and taking note of how big his hand is compared to her face, “admiring your work?” he asks her in a whisper, and then his hand moves just a few inches down to snake its way into her hand, curling shyly into a gentle fist under her chin. y/n smiles at his partly rhetorical question while bruce intertwines his own fingers with hers. and their sleepy eyes connect again.

she gives him a shrug. she’d forgotten about those markings on his back, to be honest. but now she smiles wider at the memory of them, and smiles even wider, and blushes, too, at the whole memory of last night. bruce can see a glint, a shimmer in her eyes that lets him know what she’s thinking about, and he grins. “do they hurt?” she simply asks in a concerned voice, though her lips still curling into a grin tell a not-so-sincere story. bruce shakes his head, intending to answer vocally, too, but, as he nearly always does, he settles for no words needed. y/n holds onto his hand and tucks it under her pillow, both their hands, intertwined, squished under the soft plush. “did you enjoy last night?” she asks bruce, her voice now nearly inaudible.

but they’re close to each other, so close that they needn’t necessarily hear every word as loud as it can be said. bruce smiles so wide his eyes close for a few seconds, and he nearly laughs. “what do you mean?” he asks, his hold on her hand slightly tightening. now that worries y/n. he doesn’t give her an answer, and he laughs. fishy. concerning?

“what? i need to know if it was good for you,” she tells him with a soft shrug and searches his eyes. there’s so much behind them, nearly a whole book, she can see that. and she wants to read every word in every chapter, “tell me everything.”

bruce clears his throat, but doesn’t object and hopefully, this time, doesn’t dodge the question. “firstly, it was undoubtedly good for me,” he tells her, “i... could not imagine sharing that with anyone else but you. in the whole world,” he confesses, and y/n’s oxygen runs short for a second, “i did enjoy last night. it’s important for me to know that you did, too. i kind of feel like i should be the one asking you these two questions,” bruce admits with a quiet chuckle. y/n can agree with him, but it’s been made clear in these few months with him that sometimes she needs to ask the questions, speak and do the things that the man in the relationship usually does, “secondly, i think there’s something else you want to ask me.” bruce says and looks clearer into y/n’s eyes.

she wants to play it off clueless at first, not know what he’s talking about when she clearly does. he can read her like an open book sometimes, and she knows there’s no hiding the truth from him. not that she’d want to hide it with intention. y/n sighs shortly. “you know me so well,” she says and pulls slightly away from him. removes her hand from his hold, intertwines it with her other hand on top of her chest, and she lays on her back next to bruce. her eyes are on the ceiling as she thinks of the best combination of words to put her thoughts and worries into. bruce doesn’t take this withdrawal as a good sign, “yeah, i guess i... i guess i was just... i wanted to know if, uh, if you’re disappointed or uh... if you regret last night.” she admits with a heavy heart. “but i guess you already cleared that up with your confession just now.” y/n gives bruce a soft, dismissive smile and turns to lay partly on her side again.

her eyes are nowhere near his, and she can’t clearly see the pained expression on his face. he runs his hand across her cheek again, trying to bring her attention back to him, trying to bring her back to him. “i feel neither of those things,” bruce tells her, “i’d never regret a single thing with you. i haven’t up until now, and i’m sure i never will in the future.” he says with a gentle shake of his head, and those words make y/n look at him again. our future? bruce makes a supportive smile as their eyes connect. “i... was worried you’d be disappointed by me.”

now at that y/n loses all composure and laughs like hell. “you? how could i be disappointed by you?!” she gasps for air between heaves of laughter.

“same goes for you, y/n,” bruce tells her as he watches her face, ever changing, in front of his own.

“bruce, i’m not blind to you being one of the most popular men in gotham,” she tells him, “and i’m not blind to the perks of that title, either. surely i don’t need to remind you that you’re a casanova-kind of guy.” before me, anyway.

with no idea where she could have heard that, bruce grows a bit puzzled. he shakes his head and moves his heavy torso beneath the blanket to lay on his back. “i’m not really that, no,” he tells y/n quietly, ashamed and scared to admit the truth. but he feels safe with her nonetheless. if it was anyone else raising this topic, he wouldn’t have said a thing.

y/n turns her head to look at him, and finds bruce wearing a secluded, pained expression on his face. now she feels bad. she’s definitely touched a nerve. the topic is something not only she reminds him of, she can see that. there’s pressure about it from all sides, the public, the pressure from his absent father, and no doubt alfred as well. this topic torments bruce, and, somehow, it’s never come up before, so there’s no way she could have known.

she has to find a way to make him feel comfortable with her again, something to dismiss this whole thing with. what could make him feel safe? maybe not being alone in this? y/n isn’t a casanova, either. they’re equal in that sense. y/n makes a short, decided sigh and turns her head to bruce again, “so... were we each other’s first?” she asks quietly, still treading on fragile ground, trying to find a common one. anxious about whatever bruce will say, she watches his face in silence, her nose huffing and puffing here and there.

her question surprises bruce, and he turns his head to look at her, his eyebrows drawn now. she looks into his puzzled eyes with her curious, slightly sure ones. she’s wondering what he wants to ask her, and if he’ll answer her question at all. “you’d never—” bruce starts to ask, too anxious to put his assumption fully into words. but y/n doesn’t give him a chance to, she cuts the question short with a shake of her head. “then yes,” he tells her quietly, anxious and a little ashamed of his answer, and its truth. but she just revealed the same truth about her to him, and she doesn’t seem half as anxious as he does.

they both turn their faces and eyes to the ceiling, feeling all kinds of emotions. a wide smile that she tries to suppress stretches y/n’s lips and cheeks as she looks up at the single lamp on her ceiling. there’s quite possibly nothing that could bring her and bruce closer than this, than last night. sure, they have that night shift thing, and understand each other in that sense like no one else does, but this... this is, dare she say, special.

bruce feels selfish for thinking this, but he’s really fond of the fact that he was her first. and he didn’t suck! he was her first ever, he has that honour and title, too, maybe, and she hasn’t left, hasn’t protested. instead she feels insecure about herself in this matter, when that is totally out of place. he feels insecure as well, and it’s proven that his anxiety is out of place, too. and though bruce has his anxieties, his insecurities and other characteristics that he thinks aren’t likeable, she’s with him. she’s still with him, she’s let him in completely now—at least he thinks she has—and there’s hardly any signs she’ll leave. he’s not sure if he’s paranoid that she will leave because of his just general paranoia and anxiety or because she left the manor with no warning.

but she explained herself, so he guesses it’s just him and his insecurities. the fear that everyone he cares about will leave at some point. there’s not a lot of those people, but the two that he has are dearer to him than anything.

he sneaks his hand over to y/n’s, where both her hands lay on the blanket over her chest, and he butts his fingers into that gentle hold. he looks over at her as he does, and sees a wide smile on her face. one that nearly brings tears to her eyes. bruce’s lips held a smile before seeing hers already, but now his widens, too. he turns his eyes back to the ceiling and scoots closer to y/n in her bed. he’s surprised he can even fit in her bed. all those times he’d watched her fall asleep in it he thought the bed couldn’t possibly have space for him, too.

feeling over-whelmed and emotional, y/n finds something refreshing in the golden rays of the morning sun breaking through her old window. “oh, look,” she points at them with her and bruce’s intertwined hands, “a little sun for gotham at last.” y/n says, and now there really are happy tears in her eyes. the sun rays must have been the last straw for her emotional state to tip over the edge.

bruce can’t fight the feeling that overcomes him, it makes him throw himself against y/n and pull her tight against his chest as he snuggles his nose into the crook of her neck. it makes y/n laugh and she wraps her arm around his beautiful, broad back so she doesn’t fall from his grasp. “i love you,” bruce mumbles into her skin, his lips on her both sending a shiver down her spine and warming her up. for always finding the best in things, the best in people. bruce has the exact opposite ability. y/n smiles wide and lays kisses on the closest spot of his skin that she has access to.

she moves back a little so she could look into his eyes. his sleepy, beautiful eyes, “and i love you.” she tells him. and for the first time in both their lives, it feels like every piece has finally fit into its place.

and here they are now, somewhere about an hour later, sitting at y/n’s kitchen island in barely any clothes and eating breakfast that bruce has made for them both. y/n is pleasantly surprised he can cook at all, she was sure he always relied on someone else to make him food. they’d never eaten anything made at her place before, they’d always order in, much to bruce’s request. and though his bacon and eggs and toast are pretty simple, they’re okay. there’s room for improvement, of course, but he has basic survivalist cooking skills.

“i’ve been thinking about it a lot,” bruce starts to say quietly as the two of them still eat, “what you said to alfred, and what he said after that.” y/n furrows her eyebrows as she looks at bruce and wonders which instance he’s talking about. “about you being a part of wayne enterprises.” bruce looks into her eyes.

y/n makes a pretend smile, “i was only being half-serious.” she dismisses the idea, not wanting to seem too eager and after it. of course, she’d love nothing more or less than an entire empire she can do the right things with, and the resources that come with such an empire. it’s not like she’s after money. money is but a tool, it’s never the goal.

bruce shakes his head with a smile just as half-true as hers, “no, you weren’t.” after listening to her story last night, the one about her mother, and listening to how y/n compared herself and bruce, he knows her heart was fully into the suggestion she take over wayne enterprises. he knows she has things she wants to say, things she wants to do, and she’s much smarter than him in these things. she knows what needs to be done, and it looks like it’s come naturally to her. unlike bruce himself. so he knows this is what she must do, and wants to do.

y/n gives him a look as bruce rises from the table with his plate in hand and takes the few steps over to the sink, clearly getting ready to wash that and the other dishes he dirtied while making breakfast. but y/n will have none of that. if he made food in her house, she’s doing the dishes. so she gets up from her seat with her own dirty plate and quickly walks over to bruce. no questions asked, she moves him to the side with only her hips, taking his place at the sink. when bruce still doesn’t move, y/n nods her head towards the kitchen island, “go on,” she tells him, meaning the island, and sighs quietly when bruce gets the hint y/n really didn’t want to put into words. it’s just a little hard for her sometimes. as bruce makes for the island, y/n turns water on in the kitchen sink and clears her throat, “so what’s, uh, what’s me being part of the company mean, exactly?”

bruce sighs quietly as he sits down, and takes his mug of coffee in hand, “well, anything—any position—you want, really,” he says, “but i think you should be in charge of accepting business deals, funds, calling up to collaborate with charities and other firms, all of that.” bruce truthfully tells her. “something tells me you might have a lot of good ideas for what we could do.”

it was a compliment, and y/n takes it as such – smiles from ear to ear and blushes just as vividly, too, as she brushes a sponge over food snippets on the dishes. though bruce can’t see it happening, he knows it is. he knows his effect on her. and only sometimes does he dare to use it to his own advantage.

“it’s not like you’ll need to manage everything, alfred and dory have roles to play in the company, too,” bruce continues, “and, of course, there’s about a hundred other people working for us, but... yeah. you should just take over my position, and have alfred be your... partner of sorts.” he suggests. y/n can’t stop smiling. so much so that she momentarily puts down the plate in her hands and looks over at bruce, to tell him with only her eyes and face how this is all making her feel.

it makes her feel important, needed, productive. but most of all appreciated. and bruce can guess at that. he gives her an uplifting grin and y/n turns back around to finish off the dishes. the appreciative smile of disbelief she showed him still stays on her face, though, she really can’t stop smiling.

“of course, there’s the business calls and meetings, business lunches, brunches, dinners,” bruce counts off in a bored monotone. y/n chuckles a little at that. but then her thoughts drift to the realistic parts of those events. she doesn’t own any of those formal rich clothes. her smile fades a little. maybe she should just dress as herself, put on the best clothes she owns and leave it at that, “oh, and we do have galas here that we have to attend—we always get an invite—but i rarely go,” bruce shakes his head, and even though y/n is listening to him, his voice fades away in her head a little.galas, oh my!

she’s always seen how people who attend galas wearing just completely ordinary clothes or without sticking to the dress code get trashed on the internet by the public, and she’s always agreed. galas are very luxurious fashion events, at least most of them are. she doesn’t know gotham galas that well, maybe they’re for people to show off their amount of money or amount of crimes they’ve committed – that would be gotham-style.

but she suspects it’s just the regular galas, and most of the attention would be on the women. what dress they’re wearing, how old or new it is, how valuable it is, how much did it cost, how stylish—according to the current trends—it is, how scandalous, perhaps, it is, how revealing, how modest, etc, etc. and all of that is, of course, documented and decided by the medias and critics. that’s a huge spotlight and a big amount of attention on her for one night, or for the rest of her life. it’s just too much attention.

suddenly her breath or too much air gets stuck in her throat. can she even do events like that? can she even do one? she’s not made for the spotlight, she knows that because she knows herself. all these high-class, rich and sophisticated people around her, them and everyone else expecting only the best behaviour from her. and they’re often not nice, she’s learned that from documentaries and interviews she’s watched about celebrities or popular people in general. being among those people, becoming one of them—if she ever does—is not a wonderland experience.

and she doesn’t have the wardrobe for galas, none of her best dresses are gala-material. maybe she should take up bruce’s tendence and just not go when there’s an invitation. but surely, if she is to become the new public face of wayne enterprises, she needs to give public appearances, especially right after the announcement, if there will be one. and galas are the way to do that.

y/n finishes doing the dishes as she thinks all of this over, and she turns off the water and dries her hands in a towel as she turns around to face bruce again, her hips pressed against the counter. she looks at him with her wide, worried eyes, but just for a second, because she looks at the window further away, the one she and bruce always climb through after their night shifts. in this emotionally fragile state, she can’t handle him looking at her, perceiving her and her emotions and feelings. he can read hers very easily by now, and she can’t deal with what that is followed up by.

she breathes a short breath of strain, which captures bruce’s attention even more than her over-all facial expression, and he nearly jumps up from the table. but he refrains. he knows how she gets when she feels off, he knows what she wants and doesn’t want in those moments. he just hopes everything they talked about last night and this morning has made her trust him more than before, so that she doesn’t close up and leave him again. he just tunes in and listens. it might take a few moments for her to be able to say what she wants to.

“what if i can’t do it?” she finally asks in a strained, small voice. and her eyes gloss over to bruce again. “all the... events and meals and business meetings... i mean, i don’t even know how to talk or behave formally, i’m... not that kind of person. i wasn’t raised like that, either.” y/n admits and picks at her fingers and the towel she’s holding between them. bruce smiles. “and i don’t have any clothes for a gala.” she throws her hands up in the air for a moment, out of pure despair, and her eyes look to the ground.

now bruce laughs. he doesn’t mean to laugh at her, he doesn’t want to be mean with it, but he just can’t help it. y/n looks to him with nervous eyes, ones slowly filling with tears. she’s just suddenly so anxious and terrified of what it means to be the face and leader of wayne enterprises. she hadn’t calculated any of that before, how could she? she didn’t know what that kind of lifestyle entails. now she does.

bruce shakes his head at the look she gives him, “sorry,” he says and then straightens his back. y/n is willing to listen now, “come over to me.” bruce softly requests with a clearing of his throat, and he gestures towards himself with his hand. y/n puts the towel on the side of the sink and makes her way over to him, around the kitchen island.

“i just... i’m not made for things like that,” she says while she walks, anxiety clear in her voice. bruce pushes his butt and the chair underneath it a bit further from the table and turns his body more to the side, so y/n would have a place close to him at the table, “i’ve never had to be that sort of person at work before...” she nearly whines as she now comes up to bruce.

he looks at her with eyes sweet as cotton candy and tilts his head just so it’d be in one angle with y/n’s. there’s genuine worry and insecurity in her eyes, as well as small tears gathered. bruce cradles the side of her face in his hand and looks her over with a smile. y/n waits for any further words, maybe some explanation as to why he laughed, and her hand instinctively wraps around bruce’s wrist. her touch on him still sends shockwaves throughout his body, and he tries to hide it as best he can. but the blush on his cheeks is visible, whether he wants to or not. and y/n sees.

“out of everything i’ve just listed down for this position, the events you’ll need to attend are what you’re worried about the most,” bruce deducts with a gentle shake of his head, “that’s what made me laugh.” he explains. “there’s a lot to juggle, but i understand how being out in public can cause you the most concern.” bruce’s thumb caresses her cheek, and he draws closer to her, softly bumping noses with her. y/n softly smiles and lets her eyes drop closed for that moment. “because that’s the same case for me. and i just can’t believe how similar we truly are.” at that, y/n smiles wider.

“well, at least you have clothes for those kinds of events,” she says on a more realistic note. bruce laughs again, and instead of hearing it first, she feels the thunderous rumble of his laughter all over just because their bodies are touching. she smiles.

“don’t worry, we can get you those kinds of clothes,” bruce tells her in a soft whisper. he’s now so close to her that he can feel her scent, and she can feel the strands of his dark hair on her forehead. again with the spoiling of her, y/n thinks. she can’t allow him to spend more money on her, it’s just outrageous. and it’s not like he’ll offer to buy the clothes in second-hand stores, because to attend a gala in something second-hand would just get you a straight ticket to fashion jail. no, bruce will go for the high-end fashion brands that y/n couldn’t afford even with the biggest salary her workplace offers. she sighs.

her eyes open and look into bruce’s as she has now slightly pulled away from him. his hand is still on her cheek, and hers is still around his wrist. but there’s a rift between them. “bruce, i told you i’m not comfortable with you buying me clothes, or spending money on me at all,” she reminds him.

“and i’ve told you that i don’t mind doing it,” bruce argues back, “money is practically nothing to me, and i’d love nothing more than to spend it on someone i care about,” he pushes strands of hair behind her ear, “someone i love.”

though she appreciates the loving thoughts and gestures, y/n still worries. “that’s what i’m scared of, bruce,” she tells him, “that money is nothing to some people, and everything to others. it’s what’s eating the world alive, and most people don’t even realise.” y/n shrugs, stating these facts casually yet with all her heart in them.

bruce shakes his head. “i’ll be more reserved with it, i promise,” he assures her, “let me get you those clothes, please. just... think of them as a new-job gift.” bruce suggests, and at that he makes y/n laugh.

“why are you so bent on spoiling me like this, huh?” y/n asks him as she rests her arms his shoulders and circles them around his neck, pulling him closer to her standing form, though she’s still not much taller than him because bruce is a man of nearly enormous height. she is able to look down on him a little, but just a little. and she enjoys the view. bruce’s eyes looking up at her.

he shrugs. “i don’t know,” he admits and y/n rakes her hand through hair on the back of his head, slightly tilting his head upwards to her, “i’ve never had this urge to spoil anyone before.” bruce says. “and i’ve never... had anyone like you in my life before, either, so...” he shrugs again and looks into y/n’s eyes in search of an answer. a positive answer that might tell him she’s understood him. and he finds that in her warm smile.

the questions ‘what am i to you?’ and ‘what are we, exactly?’ tickle her tongue in the worst curious way possible, but she doesn’t let them win. let that be unspoken and undecided for a while. as soon as there’s something decided, something concrete, there’s also rules that should not be broken, and that’s not always good. that puts constrictions on both parties involved, and that creates anxiety, tension and borders. none of that is necessary when everything’s going smooth and fine the way it is. unspoken.

y/n just shakes her head. “alright, if i’ve got the clothes, how am i gonna get the... persona?” she asks furthermore. “there’s going to be so much attention on me at those events, i just don’t wanna get overwhelmed and then... black out or something.” she tells him with wide eyes. “oh, my god... oh, my god, i’m gonna have to quit my job at jeremiah’s... oh, no.” y/n pulls slightly away from bruce, leaning onto the kitchen island top and resting her head on her hand, deep in thought as her eyes are still as wide as plates. they find bruce after a few moments of silence, which he doesn’t mind having with her. “i really like my job there. and i love my coworkers.”

“you don’t have to start today or tomorrow,” bruce reminds her with a gentle shrug, “just hand in your... paper of leave or whatever it’s called whenever you’re sure.” he pats the hand of hers still on his shoulder. y/n is still in her stupor of slight shock as her eyes slide back to bruce.

she shakes her head. “i’m gonna hate to do that,” she admits, “it’ll be hard to see their faces. i’ve gotten nothing but compliments and praise for my work.” y/n sighs. “also it’s gonna be weird working for you. really weird.”

bruce gives her a dismissive shake of the head. “you won’t be working for me, you’ll be replacing me,” he says to her.

“no, as we’ve decided, i’ll be the co-owner. or public face of the company,” she says, a little unsure, but then moves on, “and you’ll still be paying me. we can agree that that’s weird, right?” she asks. now bruce can’t help but agree with her.

“yeah, we can agree on that,” he says, thinking stuff over in his own head, “and as for the persona... don’t worry about that.” bruce assures her. “we’ll obviously tell you a few things you should know, but everything else is just... you, really. you don’t have anything to worry about,” he pulls her back closer to him by her waist, and y/n doesn’t protest, “you’ll do everything right. and you never have to worry about the attention.” he bumps her nose with his own again. “i will always be by your side.” he assures and lays a kiss on her cheek.

y/n closes her eyes to really enjoy that short, affectionate sensation, and her lips tug upwards into a smile. “even at galas and public events like that?” she asks, emphasising the word public just to tease him, and she has all the rights to do that, knowing his anti-social tendencies. bruce hums before laying a kiss on her other cheek.

“especially at those.” he tells her and pulls just a centimetre or so back just to look at her. they both find the other smiling at them, each in their different way, but smiling nonetheless.

“you’d do that for me? break your streak of avoiding public appearances?” she makes sure in a quiet whisper. bruce doesn’t answer verbally, he only nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and she can feel his head moving in a nod against her neck. she chuckles. “alright then, mister wayne,” she starts to say as her hands rake across his raven-haired head again softly, comfortingly, “i’ll take care of your company for you. i can make no promises about the family empire, though.”

she hears bruce laughing quietly to that, and it makes her happy to hear that sound. she feels his hands tighter around her, too, and then, in just the faintest, softest of whispers: “will you take care of me, too?” bruce asks her, and she can hear that it’s completely genuine. the question stops her for a moment, as it’s so intimate, and uttered in a voice partly scared of the answer – what if it’s negative? what if she pushes him away? “it’s... it’s rotten work, i can tell you. but i think you already know that.”

y/n makes a half-smile at that attempted joke of his that she can tell he made out of nervousness, to break the tense air that accidentally rose between them. she was sure he knew her answer to this question even before he asked it, but it turns out the opposite.

of course, a relationship with him isn’t easy. hasn’t been the easiest so far. and maybe this is his way of asking her if she’s really ready for that. maybe he’s asking her if she’s ready for full commitment with him? but... if the feelings have come easy, and getting used to each other physically and romantically has come easy so far, then... maybe it won’t be hard? being around each other more, learning to work and maybe even live with each other more? but that’s been easy so far, too, hasn’t it?

with him, everything is so natural and without any serious tension.

so y/n smiles and holds bruce’s head gently in her hands and pulls it back a little, just to have him look at her. she bends down to touch his forehead with hers and really closely looks into his eyes. she wants this moment and her following words to stick with the man, so he’d never doubt it again. “not to me,” she answers his previously muttered doubt, “not if it’s you.” she assures him and makes a soft smile at the end of her words.

they mean more to bruce than she could imagine. he sees the toll it takes on alfred to care for him, even if he’s not acting on the care. just caring for and loving bruce from afar is work enough, he sees that in alfred’s eyes. he’s the closest person to bruce, and he was all that he had until he met y/n. and now, when bruce is subtly asking her to share this burden alfred has had for the past... many years, she’s so easily saying yes. like it’s nothing. like it’s as natural as breathing.

bruce hugs her closer to him, his face in her chest, and his big form hugged back by her. warmth spreads between them, back and forth, all over, and they both close their eyes. even though it’s scary, and a lot of aspects in all that follows will be completely new and unknown for both of them, it also doesn’t feel as scary. because they’ll be going through it with each other. and that makes everything seem less intimidating and more achievable.

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if anyone wants a tag next time, please let me know :)

[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 4

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

a/n: fuck, i just realised i've put the wrong synopsis of this story for the last 2 chapters i'm so sorry guys, my mistake LMAO. sorry to break y'all's reality like that, i really am. so hi. because this is the first chapter that really deals with the multiverse stuff head-on, i have to clarify that in this DC universe new york doesn’t exist. i haven’t read a lot of the batman comics, so i’m not really sure if it exists there. but since gotham (at least in my opinion) is based off new york city, i’m writing it so in this au that new york isn’t a place in America. hope you get what i mean :D happy reading. i’m seeing the batman again tomorrow!!!!! beyond excited

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part three

part five

warnings: descriptions of injuries, of fixing one; brief mention of using a knife, mentions of needles and catheters (i hate them so much); slight insecurity talk; oh and the best one - silent pining :)

word count: 4.8k

a/n: (who got you frowning like that baby girl) took me 15 minutes to find a suitable gif, god help. full credit to owner / maker!!! 

y/n grunts and wobbles from one foot over to the other, holding her side. it hasn’t been a particularly successful night, to say the least. one of their opponents had a nasty knife, and, unluckily, she wasn’t as agile to avoid its sting. “my place is so far away…” she whines, thinking of any other place to go where she could tend to her wounds and rest. just a little. only an hour or two of sleep sound heavenly right now. plasters and gauze around her waist sound nice, too. and she’d love some water. or hot cocoa.

bruce’s ears prick up at the desperation in her words, and he turns his head sharply to her. “we can go to mine,” he tells her in his vigilante-husk that she knows fades away as soon as there’s only the two of them in a room without their masks on. she gives bruce a confused look and quizzical eyebrows. he notes her unstable stance and tries to identify her injuries.

“you sure?” she asks.

he’s never taken her to his place before. he’s never even offered to take her there, either, in the last four months of them working together. she doesn’t know where it is, what kind of property it is—but does that really matter? they’ve always gone to her place because it’s in the center of gotham, and she’s just always had the upper hand in that. plus, she has a first-aid kit and wound-tending skills, which—she’s quite sure—batman doesn’t have.

bruce nods and then struts the few steps over to her. he reaches an arm around her shoulders, his other arm circling the front of her torso, holding onto her hand above the problematic spot in her side, “i’m sure,” he tells her and begins to lead her down the dirty old alley, into the depths of the narrows, it seems to y/n, helping her with every step, “i’ll take you on my bike.”

she finds the last remnants of humor in her system and makes a chuckle, “that’s what a girl’s gotta do for you to take her on a motorbike ride—get nearly beaten to death?” she asks him teasingly. bruce has learned over time to take her humor as it is—as humor—even in gloomy situations. and so his lips tug upwards in a half-smile at her joke. but he can’t distract his mind from her being as injured as he was on the night she saved his life. okay, no, she’s worse tonight than that.

“here we are,” he says once they’ve rounded the corner far from the site of their recent fight, and a beautifully subtle motorcycle comes into y/n’s view. bruce rests her against a near-by wall while he goes to unlock the vehicle, and y/n can only make out a “wow” at the sight of the thing. all black and, though it has signs of frequent use, all the surfaces look like silk. this motorbike sure is worth getting beat up for.

bruce unlocks the bike and comes over to y/n again, with two helmets in his hands. he helps her put hers on—y/n’s vision has started to blur and sway a little, and her limbs grow weaker and weaker by the second—then he secures his own helmet on and helps her walk over to the bike, his hand on the small of her back, the other still holding her hand. once at the bike, he places both hands on her ribcage, right below her chest, and, trying to do it both gently and with strength, lifts her up onto the seat of the motorbike.

y/n cries out like a hurt child—first time bruce has seen and heard her like this in all this time—and her face twists up from the pain, her features and the tears in her eyes visible in the as-of-yet open screen of the helmet. it breaks bruce’s heart to hear that sound from her. “i’m sorry,” he tells her quietly, sincerity thick in his husky voice, “i know it hurts.”

she gives him a momentary glance through the slit in her helmet, and their eyes connect in a deeply private look for a few moments. trust, loyalty and submission are dark undertones in their eyes, and for those few moments, they just stare into each other’s orbs, searching them, exploring them, emerging themselves into them, not saying a single word. they’re sure that not even thoughts pass through their minds in that brief time.

their faces close, bruce’s hands on her body. care for her pulsating through them with every pump of blood his heart makes. y/n nearly reaches out and runs her hand across the side of his face. if only he wasn’t wearing the helmet, she could thread her fingers through that night-black hair and be even closer to him than she is now.

he knows her. he knows nothing about the her that she is on the surface. he doesn’t even know her name. but he knows her essence, he knows her depths. and he knows how important it is to her what she’s doing, and what they’re doing together. he hadn’t realized how much meaning it held to him, too, until now. and he, too, almost reaches out to touch her face. both of their shyness wins over their boldness to act.

but when he finally does, having gained the courage and boldness to, he touches her to close the screen protector on her helmet, so she wouldn’t get any dirt, mud or possible rain into her eyes or face while they drive. the air of disappointment hangs between them afterwards—a sour one. but y/n is losing consciousness and willpower too fast to dwell on it much. and he’s supposed to be caring for her so, even though his body screams at him to move his hand lower, to cup her neck from the side in the gentlest, most affectionate manner, he withdraws from her to get onto his motorbike.

y/n is feeling or seeing hardly anything at all right now, but when batman rests his gloved hands on her legs to move them on each of his sides, she almost moans. almost, and thank goodness for that. he finds her arms next and pulls them around his torso, pulling her body closer onto his. “hold tight onto me,” he tells her, “don’t you let go.”

and she tries her best to do that throughout the quick and bumpy ride around gotham. she has no idea where he’s taking her exactly, she couldn’t map it out in her current state if she tried. all she sees are lights and objects flashing past her at lightning speed, and she hears all kinds of different sounds around her, as well. the world blurs into one big tornado milkshake from her point of view, and she can hardly keep herself conscious. but she has to, otherwise her arms will let go of bruce and she’ll fall off. and merely the thought about those consequences sobers her up for the remainder of their ride.

the noises and lights fade away towards the very end of it, and y/n furrows her eyebrows as she feels the world around her go quiet, so quickly and suddenly. she sees only darkness now around her, the single light source in it being batman’s motorbike light at the very front. she moves her head slightly to the side and lifts it, too, to try and recognize her surroundings. as if that’s going to do her any good, what with her state and the unknown place she’s in.

then batman pulls his motorbike to a stop, inside a room or hall—y/n can’t really tell—that has some barely-working lights on the ceiling, as well as rows and rows of something moving, something alive. she can’t see what it is, but it looks like a huge quantity of some small creature.

bruce makes sure to move y/n off the bike before she can slide off it, and he hoists her up bridal-style in his arms, carrying her over to one of his desks afterwards. he lays her down gently on her back, lifts the helmet off her head, and does the same to himself, ridding himself of his cape and armor, too, immediately afterwards. y/n tries to move, tries to sit up on top of his messy desk, tries to get a hold of herself and the situation, but bruce captures her again before she can make any movement. “don’t move,” he tells her in a half-commanding and half-pleading whisper. he takes her mask off—he’s seen how she does it before, and he slips it off with complete ease—and looks into her eyes again. he sees her eyes for real now, and he sees her face, too—hurt. a bruise on her cheekbone, a cut in her cheek. how did he let this happen? her eyelids are fluttering in weak efforts to stay conscious, but she mostly fails. how can she look so heavenly even in a state like this? “just stay with me.” bruce finally tells her before scooping her up into his arms again. she won’t get the help she needs down in his lab cave.

perhaps alfred has some first-aid kits. no doubt he has those, he’s patched bruce up many times before. bruce gets into the elevator and presses the level number for the living quarters of wayne manor. he glances down at his partner, and his heart lurches in his chest. her face has gone pale. he looks down to where her side is hurt, her hand still lightly hanging onto that spot, and bruce gulps. her thick, dark blood is seeping through her suit. it’ll be ruined.

his trembling hand reaches over to the dark patch, and he cups the side in the gentlest way he can, so as not to cause her any more pain. and he feels the wet liquid against his skin, coating his pale pigment a dark color immediately. bruce grows scared of it, of how that feels. her blood on his hands. his first instinct is to let go of her, of what makes him scared. but he doesn’t. he can’t. he pulls her even closer into his hold, and now he looks at her face again. his blood-coated hand absent-mindedly reaches up to her cheek.

he just wants to feel her in his hand, feel that she’s still there, feel that the silk of her skin is still intact. y/n doesn’t feel much of anything at the moment, bruce’s touch on her in those multiple places is such a far-away feeling. one she wants to feel completely, but is miles away from, unable to reach. she’d much rather drift off to sleep now. she feels so tired. there won’t be any harm in simple slumber now, will there?

bruce doesn’t understand how this escalated so quickly. she was joking just some ten minutes ago, and now the very life is fading away from her. bruce doesn’t know if he’ll be able to… he doesn’t even want to say the words. in short, he’s not sure if he’s fully capable. he needs help.

and it arrives sooner than he expects. as the elevator pulls to a stop at the right floor, the door slides open and no other than alfred is standing right behind it. the older man is immediately confused about bruce using the elevator at all, he’s confused as to why the man who will always be a boy in his eyes has come up at all. bruce breathes a quiet gasp of pleasant surprise, and then he almost trips over his own tongue while trying to say something. “bruce, what are you—” but alfred’s question stops half-way when he notices the limp figure in his godson’s arms. and the blood on the figure’s side, the blood on bruce’s hand. and then he sees the desperate look in bruce’s eyes.

“help,” he manages to say, “help her.”

alfred sees the slowly-healing bruises on bruce’s own face and arms, but he nods. the woman in his arms is in need of much more urgent care than bruce himself. alfred doesn’t need any closer inspection to determine her state of health, and how important it is to act now. so without another word, he ushers bruce to the spare room he set up himself a month or two after bruce started his vigilante night shifts. a room with everything that a badly injured person could need. a bed, medical equipment, books, even a tv, and a bathroom connected to it. one of the guest bedrooms that alfred couldn’t bring himself to make into a storage room.

his breath trembling, arms shaking, eyes filling up with tears, bruce carries y/n to the large bed as quick as he can. he and alfred lean over her for the older man to determine what they should do first. cuts along her arms, those two bruises on her face, and the big, bad bleeding injury in her side. alfred looks to bruce. “what were you doing?” he asks his godson, and sees he’s staring at the woman before him with glassy, strong eyes so full of emotion as he’s ever seen.

bruce shrugs. “nothing extraordinary,” he says, “was like any other night. only…” he gulps, “only the thugs had more weapons we didn’t know about.” he shrugs. “i don’t know how it happened,” bruce’s breath hiccups in his throat, his voice now verging on crying, “can you just help her, please?” he finally looks at his godfather. bruce doesn’t care how he sounds. he just wants her to look alive again, to be alive.

“we both can,” alfred assures him, “we’ll need to take off her suit to get to that horrible wound. you do that,” he walks off towards the small trolley of medical equipment in the room, “we’re gonna clean it, and then we’ll have to stop the bleeding first and foremost.”

bruce looks at y/n again. he needs to take off her suit. will she be okay with that? would she be okay with that? he wants to ask her, but, judging by the pale, unconscious look on her face, that’s quite impossible now. bruce just doesn’t wish to expose her to him while she’s unconscious and doesn’t know he’s doing it. but he needs to get over that, over those anxieties. her life is at stake.

so he turns her over to her side just for a moment, while he finds the hidden zipper in her suit and unzips it. she makes a small noise, a near acknowledgement of bruce moving her around. much to his peace of mind, a bra comes into view, the black strap of it hugging around her back. as soon as the zipper is down enough, bruce turns her over to her back again and carefully, with all the caution he can muster up, he takes the suit off.

holes show in places where the suit—and her skin, too—has been cut into. dried blood sticks around the corners of them, but some blood is fresher than some other. bruce gulps at the sight of it, but keeps peeling the spandex off her. once he’s peeled off enough for the biggest injury to be out in the open, he leaves the rest of it be, the elastic fabric bunching around her hips now.

god in heaven, it looks really bad. she hasn’t just been cut, she’s been properly stabbed. somewhere near her large intestine, though bruce doesn’t know precisely where, and just hopes that it’s nowhere critical. alfred has come up beside the bed, where bruce sits with y/n, and prepares some disinfectant and cloths for them both to use. disinfectant. just the same one she always uses on her own and bruce’s wounds. he’d make a smile at that connection if the situation was any less grim than it is.

“here, just—” alfred hands the tools over to bruce, and he quickly takes them.

“i know how,” bruce tells him and immediately gets to work. alfred gives him a puzzled look, and bruce can feel it on his temple as he gets to cleaning her bad injury. there’s so much blood, it’s seeping down into the sheets. they’re gonna have to change them if she’s staying here.

alfred connects the dots. “so she’s the one after my job of patching you up nearly every night, is she?” he asks his godson. alfred begins to prepare a needle and catheter for the stranger’s vein, so he can hook her up on a pain-killer patch.

“think it’s the other way around now,” bruce tells him. alfred shakes his head with an almost-smile. no matter how long bruce holds a cloth to her wound to stop the blood, it keeps pouring like a waterfall.

“she’s losing a lot of blood, bruce,” he tells him, “you know a hospital would do a much better job than us.”

bruce gives him a sharp glare, “and you know why we don’t do hospitals,” he says in a grave voice, “she also heals faster than us.” he adds then, and keeps tending to her hole of ever-pouring blood now that he’s cleaned it. alfred raises his head after adjusting the catheter into her vein. she makes a small noise at that, too, obviously having felt the prick to some extent, no matter how subtle. bruce’s heart lurches in his chest at the small noise, his eyes immediately looking to her face.

“what do you mean, bruce?” alfred asks. bruce just looks at him momentarily.

“she’s enhanced,” he says, “doesn’t work exactly like you and me would in these cases.” alfred’s still confused, but he brushes it off, telling himself he’ll probably find out later or won’t need to. the important thing now is to make sure this woman survives the night.

“what about her blood? does that regenerate faster, too?” he asks, and then shakes his head again. “we’ll need to get more for her. you don’t know her blood type, do you?”

bruce doesn’t, but he can find out. he finally dares to look below her face, where those sacred letters lie, an abundance of information with them. that tells him everything.

y/n parker

birth date: 04/06/1994

city of origin: queens, new york city, NY

occupation: barista at saint jeremiah's coffee

former occupation: waitress at mudd's cave

OPEN MEDICAL FILES? the system suggests.

bruce hesitates a little, processing all this new information on her all at once already, but then nods at the system’s question. an out-poor of medical records, vaccines and tests done comes up in his vision. thank god he didn’t take out the lenses in the cave, or this would have taken a lot, lot longer.

allergies: lactose, strawberries, tulips

blood type: AB+

chronic diseases: none

blood type AB+. the same one as bruce’s. he looks to alfred, who meets the younger man with an awaiting look. “she has my blood type,” he tells him the discovery. and she wasn’t born far from his birthday, either. just a couple months earlier. how curious.

“interesting,” alfred says finally, “i’ll try not to drain you too much, bruce, so i’ll take just a drop now and we’ll see—”

“take as much as she needs,” bruce says with dark determination in his eyes, “i’m not injured.”

“can’t exactly let you die, sir,” alfred argues back and prepares another needle and an empty plastic patch to withdraw bruce’s blood. bruce doesn’t care what happens to him. alfred might take every drop of his blood if it meant y/n would be saved. saved. certainly an interesting word.

alfred knows what bruce thinks of himself in this case. he never cares what happens to him. what matters to him is what happens to the world. that his job has been done, that it has been done well. bruce doesn’t care if he dies, either, as long as his message and goal has been fulfilled. this time, the world is swapped for y/n. she’s all that he cares about, all that matters right now. y/n. what a name.

knowing this, alfred fills two of those empty patches with bruce’s blood. just to see if it might be enough. the prince of gotham has to admit he feels light-headed already, he guesses his worries and stresses, and over-all regular exhaustion from the fight before have been slowly draining him, too. but he helps alfred patch y/n up with cotton and gauze to secure her injury, protect it from the outside factors.

alfred handles the patching up itself—plasters, balls of cotton and gauze. bruce merely helps move the unconscious y/n around slightly, so that alfred has no trouble wrapping the gauze around her waist, so that they don’t make her injury worse. bruce’s hands splay on her partly-covered hips, the very tips of his fingers only digging into her skin very slightly to lift her hips up and down from time to time. bruce has to say he feels awkward and not right, handling her the way that he is, while she’s unconscious and ignorant of the way he touches her.

but that over-whelming care he feels for her, that has gained almost an animalistic trait, seeps through and makes that anxiety of his sink. he’ll just have to tell her about what he and alfred did while she was unconscious, and she’ll understand. there’s no way she won’t. he won’t tell her, of course, how right her silky flesh felt against his rough hands, how well she fit into his hands, and how his first instinct was to touch the rest of her skin, as well. he’ll keep that to himself, and will hope that urge will pass with time.

after her injury has been wrapped up and secured in isolation from any harm, the two men of wayne manor work to settle y/n into bed properly. while alfred changes the sheets, bruce lays her on a near-by couch, and rids her of the rest of her suit, throwing the ruined piece to the ground. thankfully, she’s not as badly injured anywhere else in her body, so she can rest now. bruce searches the cabinets next to the large bed for any clothes, and, luckily, there are a couple pieces laying about. he chooses sweatpants and one of the plain shirts for her.

while he pulls the pants on her with ease, bruce experiences trouble with the shirt. how can he put it on if she’s connected to the blood patches through her vein? he has a bit of trouble figuring it out, but at once he does. he pulls the shirt over her head, puts her mobile arm through the sleeve, and then carefully puts the attached-to-the-patches arm through the sleeve, as well, but leaves the small wire that’s pumping blood into her to snake upwards. it now runs across her upper arm and sneaks out through the top opening in her shirt, further running up to the adjusted patch, just closer to her now.

she doesn’t make a noise or move at any point in all this ruckus, and bruce is glad to see her at peace. she’s not as pale anymore already, and her breathing has regulated. she’s healing herself and is getting the amount of blood she needs. as she now lays in the bed, dark grey sheets tucked around her, pillows in the same dark grey tone tucked behind and below her, bruce just watches her. alfred is cleaning up their medical equipment, but he’s doing it quietly in another corner of the room. bruce hardly acknowledges his presence at all. he just watches her as he sits in bed beside her.

how her chest rises and falls with long, even breaths. how her eyes flutter here and there—she must be dreaming—and how her fingers twitch slightly at her sides. he hopes it’s something pleasant she’s dreaming of. y/n. his whole world seems to have changed now that he knows her name. y/n parker. it doesn’t change her in his eyes, and it’s strange that he knows her name. he’s not entirely sure he wanted to know her name, now that he does. it’s strange.

her origin being new york city explains… exactly nothing. bruce doesn’t think he’s heard of a place like that before. the system showed him a state, too, behind the city, but it didn’t ring a bell, either. what could she be doing here, in such a place as gotham, if she’s from there? it sounds like a famous place, one bruce should know. but he doesn’t. though, he reckons, he’ll spend some time searching for it during the day, once she’s all settled in under the covers.

even though he wants to be at her side at all times. he wants to be here when she wakes up, he wants to be here with her when even the smallest thing happens. but he also has her suit to work on. that ruined, full-of-blood suit. after this incident, he can’t let her roam around the city in spandex and rely on her agility or his protection to keep herself safe. he won’t hear any protest from her about it, either. he can’t let her be this vulnerable to these thugs, or to anyone for that matter.

bruce blames himself for what happened to her. he never cares what happens to him, either if he’s fighting alone or together with her. he didn’t even catch one of the thugs striking her with a knife, brutally stabbing her, until the very end of the fight. how could he have not seen it? how could he have not heard it happen? he should have been by her side, should have kept a closer eye on her. yes, they’re both kind of independent in their fighting styles, but still, they work as a team, they’re supposed to be looking out for each other. how could he have let this happen?

the dawn rises and ignites light across the sky, which can be perfectly seen through the window of this bedroom. bruce sees it only when that light hits y/n’s cheek in a soft manner. he turns to look around the room, then, and finds alfred sitting in a chair in one of the corners. bruce rises to his feet and draws the big curtains closed, so that y/n wouldn’t be bothered by light from the world and could sleep as long as she needs to. he feels a sour tone as the last ray of the sun caresses his own face, but he pulls the curtains completely closed.

“you should get some sleep, too, bruce,” alfred says quietly as he rises from the chair, “she’ll be alright without you. just needs time.” he walks over to the door. bruce turns to look at him.

“how much?” he asks in a hush. his and alfred’s eyes connect. the older man shrugs.

“a couple days, if she gets better.” he answers. “a week, just to be sure.” he tells bruce. “if she doesn’t get better, well… then we’ll really need to get her to a hospital.”

bruce averts his eyes from those of his godfather’s, but nods. neither of them are doctors, scientists or miracle-workers, even if they try to be. so they can’t always expect themselves to be able to do everything. some things are out of their hands.

“i’ll send breakfast up for you, you need your strength. then you can get some rest,” alfred informs bruce, his ringed hand tapping on the thick mahogany door, “as for her,” he looks to the sleeping woman in the bed, “we’ll get her a meal as soon as she wakes up, alright?” bruce nods in response, still not saying anything. “good night, master wayne. or should i say—good morning.” alfred says and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. bruce knows he’s exhausted, too. the paper work usually keeps alfred up at night, but when that’s not the case, then it’s bruce that keeps him up. this time, it’s both bruce and his accomplice.

alfred will enjoy to get acquainted with the woman when she’s in a much better state, because, dare he say, she’s been keeping bruce busy in a healthy way, and she’s been caring for him now that bruce forbid alfred to do so. bruce has also been in better moods lately, and alfred can only thank her for that. he just has yet to know this wonderful person.

with half of the sent-up breakfast in his stomach, the blood loss and exhaustion wearing his body down and the darkness of the room due to the drawn curtains, bruce can’t keep himself awake anymore. sitting by the bed in one of the bigger sofa chairs, on the side she lays in, and watching her, he feels himself nodding off every once in a while. eyes drifting closed and head dropping onto the mattress. so he finally gives himself that sweet release—bruce gets comfortable with half his body on the mattress and half still in the chair—and lets slumber take complete control of his body and consciousness.

if anyone wants a tag next time, please let me know :)

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[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 11

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

author's note: woohoooooooooo. have you guys seen moon knight??? I’m kinda only watching for steven, cause with the third episode the show lost its quality to me. but all the episodes haven’t been released yet, so I’ll try and not to judge it as much until then. but! I do love steven. and it’s taking such a huge effort in me to not abandon this story and start writing for him. god, it’s so hard. but I love bruce. I should also finish visitation hours… and finally update your good will bcs st4 is coming out in more than a month but omg. I just can’t, I can’t tap into steve. christ. I hate my procrastination and not finishing stories. im sorry for it all. happy reading!

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part ten

word count: 4.7k

warnings: nothing really i think

gif credit goes to owner!

“so, y/n, what do you do? besides the vigilante night shifts.” alfred asks. ah, the usual question she was just waiting for. sat around the very table bruce said he and alfred have meals at usually in the beautiful hall, y/n feels welcome in the company of these two men. though she can’t escape the feeling that she’s having a very important, formal meal with them, and that this is a test of some sort.

the sun up right at its mid-day peak shines through the gothically-decorated windows of the hall, breaking through in yellow and orange rays, which tickle her skin and eyes. she scoots over to her left on the very fancy chair and clears her throat as she does so, not wanting to raise an alarm in either alfred or bruce. “i’m a barista,” she answers nonchalantly, a light smile on her face, “at, uh… saint jeremiah’s.”

alfred nods. suddenly y/n feels awkward about her workplace. she doesn’t know what bruce and alfred do as work that pays all their extremely expensive bills for living here, but it must be something that pays big time. they can’t just live in an urban mansion like this, make all these weapons, tools and vehicles, and suits for bruce and now her, too, without a well-paying job. and it’s hard to find those in america if you don’t get lucky.

but, as she found out from bruce, his father was a rich and well-known man here in gotham, and bruce inherited all the money and, she guesses, reputation from him. so perhaps it was just his luck to be this… wealthy. she can’t say she’s not a little envious of that. if her parents had been rich and she could have lived in a mansion like this, woah, her life would have been a lot easier. and she appreciates all that bruce has done for her so far, she sees now that he does it out of the good of his heart. he really cares for her.

but taking her background, her life, her family circumstances, she still feels weird about it. partly she feels like it’s all not serious enough, partly she feels that she doesn’t deserve it, and another part of her thinks bruce is doing too much, and perhaps he even wants something in return. but it doesn’t seem that way. after she told him the truth about how she’s wound up living in gotham, there’s no asking in his eyes anymore. there is curiosity, but not the kind egoistic and ill-meaning men have. best believe y/n knows that look well.

“ah, the one right by the courthouse, is it?” alfred asks, his voice full of genuineness, and y/n nods. “must be a pleasant crowd that comes there, then?”

“mostly yes,” y/n answers, “though, because this is gotham, mornings are much better than the evenings. not to say we’re all morning people, but there’s less of the dangerous types around in the early hours of the morning.” she explains. alfred nods again, and bruce feels like he’s entered the conversation once again. he’s been coming to and fro, slipping in and out of talking and listening. not that he does that on purpose, his thoughts are just racing all the time. and watching y/n converse with alfred is a sight he never knew he couldn’t get enough of. two of the most important people in his life, and it’s safe to say they’re getting on well. it makes his heart swell.

“there should be some security with the courthouse and everything, no?” bruce asks her, slightly worried.

y/n looks at him with her bright eyes, feeling his concern by the look on bruce’s face. “well, there is, but they’re mostly looking after the courthouse,” y/n tells him, “since there’s always demolishers and trouble-makers around, they’re pretty busy.” she sighs, her eyes now falling to her plate and the fork she keeps moving around it. “if i wanted the attention of the world on me, i’d just put my skills and abilities to use when those types come around, but since that’s the last thing i want, i don’t.” she admits.

alfred hums. “must be hard to keep that restraint,” he says and y/n nods along, “bruce tends to forget himself in that aspect, he especially did at the very beginning.” alfred looks to bruce, and he gives his godfather the look of annoyance and disbelief. y/n chuckles, but seriousness remains like a veil across her face.

“i can imagine,” y/n says and glances at bruce momentarily before continuing. she knows that alfred’s put him on the spot, sort-of, and he doesn’t enjoy being exposed like that. so she continues, “i used to have that when i first had my powers, it was in high school.” she feels comfortable enough sharing with alfred. she looks to the older man, finding the look in his eyes very comforting. “used to hate P.E. with all my body, and i still do. hated the entire concept of it, couldn’t do anything properly, hated myself for it, you know.” she leans with her back into the chair. bruce admires the look in her eyes while she talks. “but as soon as i got my powers, i could do anything. i suddenly had incredible reflexes, coordination, strength, speed, agility—everything,” she reminisces of that time, memories playing back in her eyes like a slideshow of pictures, “and suddenly i could get good grades in P.E., i could even excel and be top of the class, even go on competitions. but i couldn’t, couldn’t i? it would have been wrong.” y/n sighs and looks to her plate again. “so i stayed little ole, helpless, weak me. had to put on quite the performance for the last two and a half years of high school.” she sits up again.

bruce feels for her. it’s not like his skills in fighting came over night, it was alfred who taught him everything, but he knows what that’s like. he knows people probably assume two things—either they assume he is good with his fists and is sporting quite the figure underneath the suits he wears on those rare occasions out in public; or they assume that he’s just a weak man hiding behind his father’s power and money who couldn’t raise one fist to fight for injustice or himself. but he can’t exactly show those skills in combination with his public persona, can he? he and alfred would be exposed immediately once people connected the dots.

“i guess it’s different for you,” alfred says kindly, matter-of-factly, and y/n picks up immediately on how he means that. she nods, “high school’s a tough time, as i hear it.”

“you didn’t go?” y/n asks in wonder, thinking how that would be possible for a man of his character and knowledge. alfred chuckles.

“oh, i did,” he says, “just not a public high school.” he clarifies and sends y/n a wink. she chuckles at herself and bruce grins at that faintly.

“me and alfred went to the same one,” bruce butts into the conversation again, turning y/n’s attention to him. she raises her eyebrows in a tell-me-more manner, “blackheath high school in england.” oh? bruce keeps getting more and more interesting with each thing that he says. how interesting, y/n thinks.

“your father did, as well,” alfred adds, “that’s how our families got to know each other. me and your father were close as brothers then already,” he makes a smile at bruce. his godson nods at him, feeling a bit on the spot again, as he always does when his father is the topic of any conversation. even in light-hearted situations like this one. he always feels some sort of pressure or loom hanging over his head at the mention of him, “what about you, y/n? your father have any friends he still keeps close contact with?” alfred looks to the woman, but she looks away, her eyes widening for a few seconds as she thinks of the best way to handle this answer.

“oh, i wouldn’t know,” she says with a slight shake of her head. bruce’s ears prick up more at her words. she’s never talked about either of her parents before, and neither has he asked about them. the topic’s never really come up before, and now it has. her eyes have a glaze over them that bruce can’t exactly place, “never knew my father.” she shrugs.

alfred feels awkward. “my apologies. i didn’t mean to bring up anything you don’t want to talk about.” he tells her immediately. y/n shakes her head fiercer now, she doesn’t want the man to feel bad about his innocent question.

“it’s fine,” she assures him, “it’s not taboo or anything.” she clarifies. “a lot of kids have grown up without a father, and i’m just one of them. i only ever had my mother.” y/n sighs, and her posture changes again—bruce notices—she sinks into her chair as though to close off from the two men, from this conversation. it’s not exactly intentional. “up until a point, she was working a lot of… different jobs,” y/n continues, and bruce sees her eyes and face having a certain expression. he can’t place it, again. perhaps because it’s emotions he’s not had to encounter before, “to raise me, to pay rent. hasn’t always been easy.”

she’s not telling him everything, obviously, it is her intention, and he realises that. he respects it. but there’s something about her mother, something really integral that she’s not revealing to him yet. perhaps she never will, and perhaps it should stay like that. if it’s truly too troubling or painful for her, he won’t push it. but something—perhaps that sense he’s picked up from her—is telling him it’s important to the character.

and now he also realises why her attitude towards money is what it is. she feels awkward and imposing to accept his money, his kindness, his gifts to her. and no wonder. she did tell him “because of how i grew up, and some other things”, if he remembers correctly. that conversation happened just over an hour or two ago now. and their conversation last night, about the clothes and underwear, and even the ice cream. it’s hard for her to accept all of that for free. perhaps she feels undeserving of such kindness and gifts free of charge—bruce would disagree; in his eyes she deserves much more, what he’s given her already is the very least of what she deserves—perhaps something in her doesn’t let her enjoy things free of charge that come to her out of the good of someone’s heart.

to conclude, she’s just as fragile and embedded with sufferings and a tough life as he is. though he has always had the money to do whatever he wishes—that’s what makes them different. and perhaps bruce has had a better support system than y/n, but he doesn’t know that.

“she’s done quite the good job of raising you,” alfred tells y/n in an almost congratulatory tone of voice. she gives him a half-smile. the man didn’t really know what to say at first, because he’s never been in that kind of situation, so he does what he does best—offer her some comforting, encouraging words, “we’re not blind to those horrible things happening here, in gotham,” alfred says, “whatever we can, we do. but bruce is always busy with something else to look through and accept any real deals.” he points out.

bruce sighs. it’s true, what alfred says, and bruce wants to help the city and its very weaklings more every day. but his mind is always miles away. and he believes that batman does some, if not most, of that already. help those who cannot help themselves. y/n gives him a look, wondering what alfred means, wondering what reasons bruce has for that absence. “gotham doesn’t like to stand up to all the crime and injustice that goes on every day,” bruce finally says, and his voice has changed to that of his vigilante persona. y/n nearly sighs. it’s strange to see him in regular clothes, without the dark circles around his eyes, speaking in that voice, “i’ll get more involved, i promise, alfred.” he looks to his godfather, who nods.

“no need to justify yourself to me, dear boy,” alfred tells him, and y/n nearly melts. alfred’s fatherly affection to bruce comes out beautifully whenever it does. but it’s not alfred that bruce was justifying himself in front of, or for. it was y/n, who bruce’s eyes flick towards with meaning in them. y/n gives him a light smile and nod.

“maybe i can help,” y/n suggests half-seriously, “accept those deals instead of bruce and get things going.” she says, and shoots bruce a playful wink. he is amused, too, but not quite as much as she is. she’s sort of made him look a little incompetent in his role in wayne industries, but he doesn’t take it to heart.

alfred smiles wide, “you know, i like you enough to accept that,” he tells her, which gets them both laughing. bruce makes a grin in the midst of their laughter, “to the eyes of the public, you could be the visual for wayne enterprises, and bruce could take a long, long vacation.” alfred adds on.

“oh no, he’d be my assistant,” y/n corrects alfred and shoots bruce a wink again. he shakes his head, “my translator, business language to english.” she says and laughs again. alfred chuckles, and bruce eventually cracks up and utters a chuckle himself. he doesn’t know how seriously these two have taken y/n’s suggestion, but if it’s serious to the very brim, bruce wouldn’t know a better person besides y/n to take his place as the leader of wayne enterprises. only alfred, but he made it clear long ago that he has no desire or intention to be that public, be that important to the company. though he already is more important than bruce, with all the work he’s doing already.

after lunch, it’s safe to say y/n and alfred get along very well. just like bruce expected and wanted them to. while one of the kitchen boys was clearing the lunch table, alfred took y/n up to his study and the library—which bruce had already shown her, but that didn’t matter to either of them—and showed her around more. did a better job than bruce could have, because he’s not that informed with the placement of everything in the library, in the study, or in the vinyl collection.

the most beautiful moment of the day, perhaps, one of bruce’s favourite moments in his entire life is when alfred put on voices of spring waltz, op.410 by johann strauss, and asked y/n for a dance. bruce never knew she could dance—another topic that hadn’t come up in their countless conversations before—and he couldn’t stop watching them dance. how alfred kept playfully switching between the regular waltz and the vienna waltz, the faster one, every once in a while, keeping up with the rhythmic changes of the composed piece.

how she twirled, and how her hair swayed along with her. how she smiled and laughed at alfred and his movements and how he turned her here and there, sometimes unexpectedly. in contrast to the sadder conversation the three of them had held during lunch, about her parents and her childhood—quite a sobering conversation for bruce—she looked happier than ever. so contagiously happy that bruce could not keep away, and joined their waltz dancing. of course he knows that it’s a two-person dance, but with the men’s agile movements and y/n’s instincts and ability, they made a three-person waltz work. twirling and turning y/n here and there, making the dance steps side by side and in a circle instead of directly facing each other—it all worked and made the three of them laugh a lot.

bruce already reminisces of those beautiful moments now, hours later, as he lays with his head in y/n’s lap on their shared riddance bed, y/n reading a book in silence and bruce drawing or writing in his notebook. uncharacteristically so, y/n hasn’t said a word since they entered the room. well, apart from some necessary for companionship few words. but she hasn’t said anything about how the lunch was for her, what she thinks of alfred, how she feels—absolutely nothing about that matter. and it’s kind of worrying bruce.

what also worries him in her behaviour is how reluctant she is suddenly. no hands in bruce’s hair, neither of her hands are touching him at all. she hasn’t made a move to kiss him, hasn’t made a move to get closer to him. and it’s not only bruce’s touch-starved nature that raises worry about this in him. it’s also the aspect of how well he knows her in general. she likes to be touching him, more than he allows himself to touch her, regularly. bruce always feels awkward about initiating it, but maybe he should. perhaps that’s what she expects of him now, having gone into this weird behaviour of hers.

maybe she’s just too exhausted to socialise, even with him. even though she’s usually the sociable person out of the two of them. maybe, which bruce hopes to be untrue, she’s upset with him, or mad at him for some reason, for the time being, unknown to him. what could it be? he can’t recall anything that he said or did was wrong. and it’s so hard to read her. perhaps it’s because he’s gotten to know more of her, that the parts he still doesn’t know, are a complete mystery to him. it’s strange. bruce doesn’t exactly know what to do.

he doesn’t know that her brain and heart are nearly bubbling over the edge with all her thoughts and feelings. he can’t possibly feel or sense that, even with how well he knows her. but y/n’s been an active, rumbling volcano ever since that door of this room closed behind her and bruce. one question, one word put in the wrong place, could cause an entire eruption of that volcano. and neither of them need that. but she can’t help her rushing thoughts.

private high schools. a well-known philanthropist, surgeon father. a gothic mansion in the outskirts of gotham. more money than anyone else. tools, weapons, instruments, vehicles, devices for anything he might need. impenetrable suits that intimidate those without one. gifts without end. it’s an alien world to her. and she can’t quite place how she ended up here, inside it.

“are you… tired?” bruce interrupts their silence that grows more and more tense with each second. his voice in a guessing tone, as if he doesn’t know if that question is the exact right one to ask. bruce lays on her stomach with his chest now, looking up at her through her book, even though he can’t see her face. he’s sure he knows it well enough to know where her eyes are, though.

y/n doesn’t move her eyes off the book she’s reading as she answers, “a little.” she admits to him. short, colder than usual. something’s definitely off, and bruce’s heart falls to the pit of his stomach as he realises that. it’s definitely something to do with him. only what? and maybe asking her what exactly it is in him, or in anything he’s said or done that upsets her so much—because he’s willing to change; for her, if for anyone at all—will be worse than what he’s feeling between himself and her right now. how can he know without trying it out?

it’s killing him, this not knowing of what’s wrong, of what’s behind her stale mood. but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. he wants things to be better between them, and he can’t guess why they’ve grown so tense and unbearable now. he doesn’t know what to do. scared to take the first step, scared to leave things how they are because they might escalate, scared of the matter she’s upset about being unchangeable. he’s stuck.

bruce lays his cheek on her clothed chest now. “did i do something wrong?” he finally asks her, having gained enough courage and also having realised that she means more to him than having an argument, in the most fragile voice she’s ever heard him speak before. she can hear fear, anxiety and self-doubt in his voice, even in those very few words spoken.

y/n stares ahead in her book, taken aback by his question, and taken aback once again in how well he knows her already. he knows something’s up, and she appreciates that. but can she bring herself to tell him what’s up with her, and why she’s feeling the way she is? y/n sighs courtly, and keeps her book as a shield between her and bruce, realising that’s an easier way to talk to him about her feelings than if she would be looking right at him. why has she become so closed-off to him all of a sudden, though? she doesn’t know. “no,” she says with a gentle shake of his head, her voice quiet.

really? then why is she not talking to him at all? not telling him how she feels? “then what is it?” he asks her. bruce rests his chin on her stomach again, she feels its pointy character digging softly into her skin. she sighs. he’s relentless, and she knows that about him. perhaps this is the first time she really notices that because it’s expressed directly towards her. and he doesn’t ask these questions like he does when they’re both interrogating a criminal at night. this is different. because this issue is much more personal to him.

y/n closes her book and places it at her side, now greeted first and foremost with bruce’s anxious, caring face. not so far from her own, and she feels even closer to tears now. she hates feeling like this. bruce laying in her hold is bugging her, bothering her for the first time ever. his eyes on her are suddenly too much, and she doesn’t know why. everything was fine with him just a few hours ago. her attitude has changed so suddenly, it bothers her to no end. she doesn’t want to be upset, doesn’t feel entitled to be so, but she is. and perhaps, after all, she should be.

she tries to keep her tears at bay. she doesn’t need to cry now. “nothing that you can change,” she tells him in a shaky whisper, only meeting his eyes for a fleeting second. she turns away then, pulling her legs up and away from under his weight. but bruce places his palms on her thighs and stops her movements. she looks at him again, slightly frightened, “bruce.”

“tell me what’s wrong,” he tells her and hopes the words didn’t sound like a beg. his eyes are sure, they’re set on her as he is set on uncovering the secret behind her change in behaviour, “please. if there’s anything i can do or change, i w—”

y/n shakes her head and rolls her eyes, “there’s nothing you can do,” she says, slight fury in her voice, “already told you. even with… everything that you have, especially with it, you can’t change it.” she says. you can’t change, she thinks to herself. but even in her upset mood, she knows that would be said too much. she damns herself for even thinking those words and their meaning.

“then talk to me, please,” bruce doesn’t care anymore that he sounds like he’s begging, he doesn’t care how desperate his voice gets. this is important to him. she is important to him, “just talk to me.” his voice grows quiet, to the volume of a whisper, and he feels himself on the verge of tears suddenly. he gulps as he looks up at her still, just pleading for her to understand that he’s here to help, that he doesn’t mean her any harm.

y/n shakes her head, runs her hands over her face, all to keep herself from crying out, and just sighs. the tears are coming, but she won’t let them take over. she won’t. she can’t. “not now,” she tells him finally, her eyes looking away from his—anywhere, the ceiling, her hands, her book to the side—and he can hear her fragility in her voice. he feels for her, “tomorrow. i’m… too tired now.” she tells him finally.

bruce nods. he wants to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible, now would be the perfect time. but if she’s asking him for tomorrow morning, he will respect that, and he will wait. so he nods and lays a kiss on her hand out of pure affection. her eyes fill with tears suddenly at that gentle gesture, and her lip quivers as her emotions take over and want to unleash their full wrath on her. but she won’t let them. she mustn’t. bruce kisses her hand again, kisses all over it—her palms, her fingers, her knuckles—and it really brings y/n over the edge, her lip quivering further and further until tears spill out of her eyes, over her cheeks.

she loves him. it’s the first time she admits that to herself. she loves him, she knows she does. she doesn’t want to push him away, she doesn’t want to hurt him. she wants to be close to him as possible at all times, know him more and more, bare her entire self to him. and yet she can’t help but feel out of place. she can’t help but feel like a complete alien with him, in his world, in his home. so different from hers.

night begins to grow across gotham like a big, dark cape, the darkness creeping into every inch of bruce and y/n’s room—curtains, walls, the floor, the bed and its accessories—and so bruce turns off the bed-side lamp, puts the book on the nightstand, and crawls over y/n again. her form trembles as she makes quiet sobs in the dark now, hiding her face in her hands, and bruce doesn’t shush her now. he lets her let it all out, because he can tell she needs it.

he doesn’t intrude on her personal space anymore with questions or words at all. he just holds her, pulls the covers over them both, knowing that it’ll be too hot with both them underneath, but also knowing that when y/n cries, she tends to grow cold all over. the warmth will be good for her. he caresses her hair with his hand and just listens to her soft yet intense cries. on one hand, he hates to hear and see her cry—it breaks his heart. but then again, he can tell she needs that release. pent-up emotions, perhaps frustrations with herself and the world, need to be let out sometime. and so it’s soothing for him that she seemingly gets that relief now. at least he thinks she’s getting it. in reality, he doesn’t really know.

at some point in the darkness growing ever-present and unavoidable in the room, y/n cries fade to silence, and bruce discovers she’s fallen asleep. being tired himself, and being with her, bruce soon falls asleep, too, with her still in his arms. he’s glad about how peaceful she is in her sleep, even if the problem between them is unresolved, even if he doesn’t still yet know the reason she cried so hard, and why she cried at all.

y/n knows bruce is a heavy sleeper, and she adores it. she hates to be taking advantage of that now, in the night hours, when she slips out of his heavy hold and gets up from their bed. she bids herself not to cry any tears as she picks up her few stuff and wraps it up in a ball she can easily carry. she ignores the tears that fall as she opens and closes the bedroom door in the quietest way possible, and she hates causing that sharp pang in her heart that happens as the door quietly thuds closed behind her.

she doesn’t want to leave him, and least of all wants to hurt him with her leave. but this is so not her world. this is not her place. there's too many differences between him and her. and she can’t bare it any longer.

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[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 13

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

author's note: hello. this took me 9-10hours and i still think the ending sucks BUT oh well. am i gonna rewrite it ??? no. i think you guys will like it, the chapter has a nice surprise over-all, hihi, and i'm too tired and running out of time to rewrite this chapter. ngl, i have some really good moments here in my writing, and i hope you guys will see them and appreciate them :) thank u sm on the feedback, as always, i love you all. happy reading!!1

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part twelve

part fourteen

word count: 13.1k

warnings: LONGGG!!! hope it doesn't bore anyone. also smut!! p in v sex, oral sex on f, fingers in mouth, emotional sex, praise, creampie, all the good stuff yk B)

gif credit goes to owner!

bruce knows he can’t follow her. physically it’s impossible, because he’s not like her, and he’d lose a lot of time getting down on the street and onto his bike. even though there is the urge to try out the new wings he recently made, but he hasn’t even tried them out in a safer environment before, so it would be foolish and lethal to try them out now to follow her.

but he also knows where she’ll be at the end of the night. it disappoints and upsets him that she’s chosen not to meet him at their usual rendez-vous and is, instead, apparently swinging around gotham and fighting for justice on her own. it eats away at him, and he’s rightfully upset as, again, he has no explanation from her about it. did she just play him for a fool? did she lie to him?

she didn’t exactly promise to meet him. that day at her work, or any later day. she said she doesn’t know if she can ever meet him again, and she didn’t say anything after he promised to be at their place every night. she didn’t say anything. so she didn’t lie, either.

alfred’s voice is in bruce’s head again, saying she just needs time. and that he’ll scare her away if he intrudes on that space, on that time with herself. but he can’t wait any longer. it’s been nearly a week since that day at her workplace. he saw her, right now, slinging across the train tracks and the street below them. bruce almost thinks she did it for show, having the knowledge that he’ll be on location, and will be seeing her from it.

it’s only a few minutes past eleven thirty, which means she will be done with her night shift soon. on the nights bruce couldn’t make it, she usually went out at nine or ten by herself. and even though bruce never told her that, he worried for each of those nights about her, and secretly didn’t want her to go. but she’s quicker than him, and has powers, and can’t stay away from saving citizens longer than a day. she’s been out nearly every night, and only on the occasions of particularly heavy work shifts has she passed on the opportunity.

bruce guesses she’s addicted to that. saving people, putting criminals to justice, giving them what they deserve—it gets her off. it’s not the adrenaline anymore, it’s her usual nightly routine. her alcohol, her drug, her cigarette.

judging by the time he has left, bruce gets moving off the train platform. he jogs down each little set of stairs, feeling a little stupid doing it, but does it nonetheless, until he’s finally on the street level and makes his way towards that alley he parked his bike in. what is she doing out there alone? has she gone out alone before, in these six days she hasn’t met up with him? does she not want to work with him again? does she not want anything to do with him, knowing that he’ll be waiting every night for her, anyway?

she’s become a bigger mystery to him again, and it’s safe to say that bruce is bubbling over with emotions as he trudges up the fire escape stairs and unlocks the window to her living room with a little metal hook. just a small thing he always keeps in his pocket, in case he needs to break in somewhere. yes, he is intruding, and he feels like he’s intruding, rightfully so, but it doesn’t feel the least bit wrong. he has to do this. he has to see her. he has to talk to her.

he closes the window and locks it from the inside so she wouldn’t suspect anything as she’ll come in later. he doesn’t want to spook her, much less give her a heart attack, he just wants her raw and true like she always is, without any prejudice about what might have happened to her window, or who has entered it.

bruce sits down on her sofa, the one she sat him down in all those nights ago, on their first real meeting, their first solid interaction. sitting in the exact spot he was then, bruce feels memories of that night flooding in, and they play like a little short movie before his eyes. how he watched her attend to his wounds, how he helped her clean hers up, it was on her thigh. how she sat next to him and touched his hair, asking questions and telling him random different things.

he remembers how soothed he was by her. she made him immediately feel at peace, and he trusted her almost immediately, as well. she was kind to him, didn’t know and didn’t care who he was. she just wanted to be equal with him—she took off her mask, and requested he do the same. no question about his name or anything, she just needed him to understand how trust for her works. even though that instinct of hers told her to trust him already.

tears gather in his eyes at those thoughts of her. the memories are too strong, too close to his heart, even closer than he’d like to admit. so much so that he nearly misses her coming home. he only hears her sigh of effort when she’s already jumped onto her living room floor, and at that noise, bruce snaps his head towards her. true enough, she’s still in her spider-woman suit, and she’s pulled off her mask. she doesn’t gasp in shock or surprise at the sight of him there, or at the quick turn of his head, her spidey-sense having kicked in again and she sensed another presence in the flat before she even came in. but she furrows her eyebrows, and focuses more on bruce, thinking, for just a moment, that she might be hallucinating and that he’s not really there. but he is. and though his eyes are dark, bright tears shine in the corners of them.

“what are you doing here?” y/n asks and strides over to him, her mask in hand before she leaves it on the coffee table. she turns around and draws her curtains, then, wanting privacy from anyone who might be watching from now on. bruce watches her all the while, his breaths beginning to grow heavier.

“why were you out there alone?” bruce asks her finally, and y/n shakes her head at his voice. the brooding, intimidating growl of batman is in it. she turns back to face him. his eyes are looking right into hers, nearly boring holes into them, into her, as if wanted to do that.

y/n shakes her head again, “if you wanna talk, you’re gonna have to take off your mask.” she tells him quietly, fearing that it’s not her place to request something. that she’s undeserving even of such a little, but important thing. she doesn’t want to talk to batman, she wants to talk to bruce. with batman comes this great act, and so much more bravery than bruce has on the regular. she looks up at him from her hands. “it’s just you and me. and i don’t need batman now.”

infuriated and impatient, bruce pulls the cowl off so fast it makes a scratch in the side of his head, but he pays no attention to it, only making a small wince in reaction. y/n must say he looks like he usually does. and by usual, she means the black smear around his eyes that can’t hide the purplish bags under them, which are evidence of sleepless nights. no wonder. she didn’t see those on him while she was at the manor with him, because he slept through each night with her.

but the fury and threatening volcano eruption on his face takes her back a little. she hopes that anger isn’t towards her, but she knows that it probably is. she feels awkward, and embarrassed, and out of place. she sighs and walks over to her kitchen island, ten feet at best to bruce’s left. he watches her go and he unsnaps his cape, leaving it on the back of the sofa, and then he pushes his kevlar suit off himself one by one, trying to do it fast. y/n fixes herself something to drink from her fridge all the while, and she makes another full glass, in case bruce wants some, too.

if she doesn’t want batman now, that’s what he’ll give her. he walks over to her in the kitchen only after the batman parts of his suit are off, including the flattening jacket. he’s now dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and socks, feeling both out of place and exactly at home, dressed like that in her apartment. y/n watches him come up to her, that glass of a drink in her hand lifted up to her face, where the cold beverage is cooling her cheek. she looks at him with anxious, but tired eyes.

“why were you out there alone?” bruce asks her after he situates himself across her, his back leaning into the kitchen island as hers is leaned against her counter. y/n sighs.

“i wasn’t fighting alone,” she tells him quietly, “i was just swinging around, clearing my head. nothing more.” she sighs and looks into her glass. “not that you should know what i’m up to,” y/n shakes her head. bruce’s nostrils flare.

“i should know,” he argues.

“what, are you gonna ground me for fighting some low-lives on my own?” y/n’s upset towards bruce has quickly turned into anger. perhaps she’s pissed off by him, by all the things he chooses to be blind to when he’s not batman. bruce gives her eyes with such fire in them. but also defeat. he knows he can’t ground her, or tell her what to do and what not to do. it’s not his right, not his place, and not his choice to make, after all. she knows that, too, of course. “bruce, you can’t keep me away from the world.” she says, and has to admit that saying his name caused her heart a little pain.

he looks straight at her now, those fiery, defeated eyes now concentrated on something more precise. “is that what you thought i was doing?” he asks her. “is that why you left? you thought i was keeping you locked in with me?”

y/n shakes her head as her eyes close. he really is blind to the things she thought he was. she has always been right about him, but he – nearly never about her. “no, i didn’t think that,” y/n tells him. then what? “and that’s not why i left.”

“then why did you?” bruce asks, and the volume his voice reaches frightens y/n, so much so that she looks at him with widened eyes. bruce sees them, and wants to apologise immediately, wants to take that back. “why did you leave? why didn’t you say anything? why didn’t you come meet me all these nights? i waited for you.” his eyes fill with tears again, those previous ones having dried beforehand already. bruce’s lip trembles. “why didn’t you just… tell me? how you felt, what was wrong?”

y/n is too impatient with bruce, with herself, with his questions. “because it’s hard to!” she says. “even despite my instinct, despite everything that we’ve gone through together, i still don’t know if i can open up to you like that!” she looks into his eyes again. it saddens her that there’s no ounce of understanding in them, only confusion. “i told you that it’s nothing you can change, but maybe it is now… i don’t know.”

“y/n, just tell me, please,” bruce says and takes those two steps closer to her, so he can cradle her cheeks in his hands and be closer to her. he sticks to her like a magnet, and she has the urge to wrap her hands around his form, too, and pull him close as possible. but she fights it, not wanting to let this conversation go to waste, “i…” bruce gulps, “i want you... to be with me. whether we’re working, or—or reading together, or listening to music, or whatever else—i just want you here with me.” or whatever else. bruce shakes his head, his forehead gently bumping against hers. tears have filled y/n’s eyes now, too. she can hear in his voice how much she’s hurt him, and it breaks her heart. she didn’t mean to. she never did. “this isn’t easy for me, either, i’ve never…” he sighs shortly, his head making a gentle shake, “i’ve never had anyone like you before in my life. and i don’t want to lose you.”

did he really just say that to her? y/n can hardly believe her ears. does he mean those words? he wouldn’t be saying them if he didn’t, to be fair. y/n squeezes her eyes shut to avoid crying, but her tears spill all the same. bruce feels the ragged breath she takes, he feels how it makes her whole form tremble under him. y/n wipes at her tears with her hand and sobs, “i’m sorry,” she tells him, “i didn’t want to hurt you.” she says in wails. “i just… couldn’t take it anymore. we’re too different, bruce. your world is so much more different than mine.” y/n says and wipes her tears again. she hates that she can’t talk about this without crying.

bruce takes it as in the sense that she’s gotten to gotham from a different world physically, but again, it’s evidence that things like that fly over his head so easily. “what do you mean?” he asks her and leans back a little, unconsciously giving her space. he even pulls his hands away from her, leaving her completely untouched for now. for however long she needs.

y/n is quiet for a while as she gathers herself. every word that she had planned to tell him at some point now seems to bring more and more sobs, pain and tears from her. it’s hard talking that way. “i mean… look at how you’re living,” she says. the mansion, the wealth, the family legacy, “all i ever had was a small basement flat in queens,” she tells him, and her voice grows squeaky in a wail towards the end, “my mother had to work… terrible, absolutely inhuman jobs to pay the rent, get us food. with no one to help us.” y/n sobs and hides her face in her hands from bruce. he doesn’t touch her, being able to tell that she really doesn’t need that right now. “only after… she died did i find out that i have an aunt. they weren’t on good terms, but she took me in immediately. even though she had no idea how to raise a kid.” y/n sighs, and shakes her head. “i can see… by the way you behave, how and where you live, that you don’t know what that’s like. you haven’t worked a day in your life. everything that you have has come easy to you.” she looks up into his eyes.

bruce can’t deny he feels upset by those words. never had to work a day in his life… but he doesn’t get the type of work y/n means. building tools, devices, suits and vehicles in the abandoned station named after your parents with all the money you have from thin air is work to him, but it’s not work in reality, is it? that’s just money spending, the complete opposite of work.

“i haven’t had a day since my eighteenth birthday in which i haven’t had to work, or fight for what’s important to me.” y/n tells him. she won’t go into detail about her mother and how she died, or about her best friend, who met the same fate. he doesn’t need to know that. it doesn’t really have anything to do with this conversation. “that’s where you and me are different. i don’t expect you to understand, but…” she shakes her head, “you asked, since you... clearly can’t understand what you don’t know, so here it is. that’s why i left.” she looks into his eyes again. “that’s why i have a complicated relationship with money.”

bruce nods, his eyes faltering away from hers. now that she’s told him about her childhood, or at least some part of it—it seems there’s more to tell—he gets why she was so cold. why she was so adamant on knowing why he bought her those things, why she had a hard time accepting them. he doesn’t understand the things she’s went through, the life she’s had, but at least he knows about them, and understands her more.

“and it’s none of your fault for how you grew up, for your father’s wealth,” y/n speaks up again, wanting bruce to be less confused about her feelings towards him in all this. bruce nods again, though biting back tears, “it’s just… i don’t think you and i have the same goals or—or beliefs.” she says and sniffles again. bruce furrows his eyebrows. “sure, we’re fighting all those guys at night, but during the day… you could be doing that and more. with everything you have.” she says in a fainter voice, cautious of his response. bruce wayne. prince of the city. gotham’s richest.

the suggestion in her words hits straight into his heart, as well as his pride. and his beliefs. bruce is silent as he thinks it all over, and y/n is afraid he’ll bolt out the door any second. he could do that, taking how he sometimes gets very unpredictable. but her instinct tells her otherwise, and so does bruce’s body language. gears are turning and pipes are hissing in his mind, it’s all so visible in his eyes.

she’s never had prospects like he has. she’s never had the money to change things in the world she sees as unjust. bruce can tell she’d do a lot if she had it, so maybe he should give her all the money he has? maybe follow up on that half-serious offer of hers and make her the head of wayne enterprises. she has much more spirit, much more will to act than he does. it hurts him that she’s seen it, but it doesn’t hurt that it’s the truth. perhaps he’s just been too afraid to acknowledge it.

so many questions are still begging to be asked, so many thoughts are running through his mind on repeat, one after the other. he leans off the island and comes closer to y/n again, slowly, cautiously, hoping to not intrude onto her space, scared she might swat him away, push him away. his hand caresses her hair as the other cups her cheek, she’s letting him. he looks into her eyes, which are blinking between his and those wandering, affectionate hands of his. “how did your mother die?” bruce asks so softly and quietly she could have missed it. y/n’s eyes showcase fear, and the urge to turn away, to get attention off herself, to escape his hold. then she blinks, hangs her head low and sighs softly.

“at work,” she tells him coldly, nearly paralysed in how exposed she currently is, “she was killed. because she wanted out.” y/n sniffles very strongly and looks down at her hands as she takes her gloves off. her lips press into a thin line. the loss of her mother still does numbers on her heart. bruce gulps. she’s saddening him more and more with every new thing she tells him.

“i’m sorry,” he tells her, the hand caressing her hair again, this time also moving in between her strands, cradling her head from behind. he only means well, and he only wants to be closer to her. y/n understands that, “were you there?” like i was when my mother and father got killed?

y/n shakes her head. “no,” she answers. she remembers that day very well, “i was at home. didn’t know until... cops showed up at the door.” y/n parker? we think we’ve found your mother. “nearly didn’t open it because mom told me not to open the door unless it’s her, and she had a certain way of knocking.” y/n’s lips make a very faint smile as she says this. bruce smiles a little, too, seeing that y/n remembers a fond memory of her mother. but she still doesn’t look at him, for whatever reason.

“is she the reason you do this?” he asks quietly again. y/n looks up at him at once, her eyes fearful of how well he’s turned out to know her. she appreciates it. that he may not be able to understand her, but he knows her. he knows her so well, he knows her by heart. bruce’s thumb flicks over cheek, where tears previously poured down. new ones gather in her eyes, and during her silence, they fall and coat the skin of her cheeks again, pouring beneath and onto bruce’s finger as well.

she’s overwhelmed. his hand on her cheek reminds her so much of their shenanigans in his car that day. and the hand on the back of her head reminds her of all those times they kissed, and she’s thinking of the manor again, she’s thinking of all that time they spent together. it reminds her of the care and affection that he’s shown her. and she can’t turn away from it. she’s done hurting him. she wants him, too. every day and every night. perhaps, after all, the crime-fighting isn’t her drug. but bruce is.

y/n gives him a nod as well as a shrug in response, because she is the reason y/n does this, but not the whole reason. there’s so many more. so for now, she gives him this kind of answer, though she’s sure he got the confirmation from her falling tears. bruce breathes a deep breath in and nods at her, too, saying that he gets it. he understands. part of every hero is that they’re avenging someone in everything that they do. whether it’s their parents, one of their parents, another close relative, maybe a friend or a lover. someone important to them who they lost. “did you get what you wanted?” y/n asks in a whisper, hoping that she has somewhat explained herself to bruce.

he searches her eyes for a few moments, confused. is this everything that she wanted to say? is she telling him that there’s nothing more to say or do anymore, and that they’re done? he hopes not. “i just wanted you,” he tells her in an assuring manner, his thumb flicking over her lip again, “i still do. always will.” bruce makes a gentle shake of his head. “please don’t make me leave,” bruce pleads quietly, thinking that could be the worst-case scenario.

y/n shuts her eyes as more tears pour from them and shakes her head. “i don’t want to do that,” she says, still shaking her head. she’s stripped herself down completely in front of him now, no going back.

“then don’t,” bruce says and now rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed. he sighs deeply as he feels himself closer and closer to her.

“but it will be difficult,” she tells him, still trying to push him away against all her best interests, “i’m scared, bruce.” she admits and sobs in desperation again, nearly gasping and grasping at him to not leave. her hands don’t know where to go, don’t know what to do to make him stay. will her small arms be enough for a man his size? enough to keep him in place? first of all, she can’t believe he’s here. he cares enough that he showed up at her flat. bruce opens his eyes.

“i’m scared, too,” he tells her. he has never had these feelings before, and he’s never had a relationship before. he doesn’t exactly know how they work, or what he has to do. he could hurt her, he could get her hurt again, and worse, he could be too demanding, he could not change himself for her... it all scares him. but, “because i love you.” bruce admits, and it makes y/n’s eyes open wide in an instant. “and i’m scared of what that means.”

“you love me?” y/n repeats in a hushed whisper, afraid to say those words out loud for maybe she accidentally dreamed him saying them. but bruce nods, extinguishing those doubts of hers. “are you sure?” she asks.

the question makes bruce utter a quiet chuckle, his lips stretching so beautifully into a smile. y/n finally reaches a hand out to his face, and caresses his cheek in return, making him look back at her. “i’m sure,” bruce assures her, “more sure than i’ve ever been of anything else.” he states. “i love you.” bruce says again, his fingers caressing her skin. “you mean everything to me.” he confesses in a whisper.

now y/n really can’t keep the dam closed anymore. her tears fall without a halt, without filter, they pour from her eyes, across her cheeks, down to her neck, into her mouth, and quiet sobs of relief rupture her lungs and chest. they’re happy tears, relief tears, even though they seem the completely different kind. bruce watches her, confused, and his movements on her skin in those two places halts. but y/n scoops herself up together and looks at him again. “don’t worry,” she says, “i’m only crying because i...” she hiccups in her confession, “because i love you, too.” y/n says and makes a smile on her face for show. and so that bruce would know that it’s real, what she’s telling him.

bruce’s heart stops at that confession, breath catching in his throat. all this time there were hints towards it being true, but he never wanted to assume she did. and, as his low self-esteem and self-worth usually told him, he thought she didn’t love him like that back. she couldn’t. but here she is, proving all that paranoia wrong. so he doesn’t waste a second more and kisses her lips. he hasn’t done that in so long, in nearly two weeks (not that he’s counted, of course), and it’s such blissful release that he can’t contain his own tears anymore.

y/n kisses him back, and so their lips battle in the will to show each other how much love they have for them. both of them want to win, but the process, the journey, is so much better than the victory. lips exchanging heated, wet, tearful kisses while hands grapple fabric and skin, wanting to be closer, closer, closer, until there’s no space and they succumb to each other, their skin and bones melting together.

bruce’s hands bravely venture down to her hips, where he caresses and grips them, pushing moans out of y/n here and there with his actions. she tugs on his hair when that happens, and that makes him groan in return. but that counter against her back is very uncomfortable. “this is not the place,” y/n whispers to bruce against his lips, and it halts his movements. she takes his hands in her own and pulls him away, out of the kitchen, and towards her bedroom, down the hall.

he can’t keep his hands or lips off her even while they walk, he’s kissing her neck, backing her against the nearest walls from time to time, just wanting to stay there. he doesn’t care where they are, as long as he can have her, he’ll be happy, and he’ll make her see stars to the best of his abilities, anyway. he’s scared, of course, for her to see this side of him, thinking maybe he’ll not be competent enough, he won’t do good enough for her. but she’s about to prove him wrong.

she laughs at bruce’s impatience and manages to stumble him over to her bedroom at last. she loves him kissing her neck and showing her that kind of affections, of course, she lets him know by the moans and whimpers she makes, but she doesn’t want to have her first time with him in her hallway. having it in her bedroom is important to her, even though she doesn’t really know why.

once they’ve stumbled into her bed, bruce finds the zipper in her suit and zips it open as quickly as he can, though he does it very messily. y/n is smiling, tears still in her eyes, and kissing his lips all the while, as he peels the suit off her, and she kicks it off with her legs at the very end just so that bruce wouldn’t have to disconnect from her. he smiles at that, knowing her intentions, and pulls his own shirt off his form, too. y/n has seen him bare before, but now she feels she’s got the full privilege and right to admire his chest fully. her hands reach out to run across it, bruce on his knees now before her, between her legs. her fingers trace over his muscles and she marvels at how there are no serious scars on his chest, unlike his back.

he just watches her eyes, and then they look up at his. a mischievous smile tugs at her lips, and she bites into her lower one. bruce shakes his head at her, though a grin adores his lips, as well, and he leans down to her again, smothering her whole face with kisses. “i love you,” he proclaims to her again, “you drive me crazy.” he says and y/n chuckles at that confession. bruce plays with the straps of her bra, and he gives her a look. “can i take this off?” he asks her, wanting to make sure she’s ready. so far, this is the barest he’s seen her. and he just wants her to be comfortable. if it’s better for her, she can leave the bra on.

y/n nods at him in response, and reaches under herself to unclasp the bra. bruce wanted to do that, but she sends him a knowing wink, knowing in the sense that she knows he wouldn’t be able to take it off on his own without a struggle. so since they’re both in a rush, and are naturally impatient people, she does half the job for him. and so bruce just hooks his fingers under each strap and lifts her bra off along her arms, and throws it to the side, not exactly caring where it lands.

his breath gets caught in his throat again, this time at the sight of her. her hair, her naked chest, her arms barely, shyly knitted together above her stomach, her shy smile and the tears still glistening in her eyes. she’s an angel. “you’re beautiful,” bruce tells her, “baby.” he adds, remembering that she seemed to have some sort of reaction to that nickname before, and he could try it out now again. this time y/n utters a whimper at that pet-name, her teeth biting into her lower lip again, and her thighs move around a little. bruce grins slightly and positions himself right above her body again, his chin resting just below her breasts. “do you like it when i call you baby?” he asks her, and kneads one of her breasts in his hand.

y/n sighs out as her eyes drop closed, and she sighs, already squirming beneath him. “yes,” she answers, and bruce feels her thighs pressing closer around his body, “does things to me.” she admits, and then feels bruce’s lips on her breast, just kissing for now. but then he lays a wetter kiss on the skin there, and he sucks lightly, too, and y/n feels like just melting into her mattress. the moan she makes goes straight to bruce’s firmly growing length in his pants, making him feel even more impatient. he increases his grip on her other breast, and makes a trail of kisses up to her face again, all the while hearing her sweet moans and whimpers for him.

“was that okay?” bruce asks her quietly, worried about his performance again, and to his soothing, y/n replies with a nod.

“i know you’re nervous, but you don’t need to be,” she tells him as her lustful eyes look into his and she caresses his cheek with her hand again, “it’s my first time, too.” she assures, her smile suddenly looking a little broken, along with her tears it makes for a sad facial expression. but those few words mean a lot to bruce. she’s just as inexperienced as him, and it puts him at some sort of peace at least. and how she was able to tell he’s that way also hits a close spot in his heart. now they’ll be doing something together for the first time, both of them, and it is ever so special.

“you tell me if i hurt you, alright?” bruce requests. y/n’s eyes fill with more tears at how considerate and affectionate bruce is. she still can’t believe it, after all this time, and yet here is the proof, staring her right in the eyes, touching her the way she likes, making sure that everything’s fine. but she shakes her head at his question.

“you could never hurt me,” she says in a scrappy voice that showcases her choked-back tears and sobs, and bruce only hopes it’s for a positive reason she’s almost crying again for. y/n pulls his face down to hers and kisses his lips. hungrily, lustfully, intimately, closing her eyes. bruce does the same, his hands coming lower to hold her waist, “can you touch me?” y/n quietly asks him, looking into his eyes, “please.”

you could never hurt me echoes in bruce’s mind, and he recalls that incident in the car, to which she undoubtedly is referring to without really referring to (but he can read her mind, can’t he?), and he nods surely. “i was going to, anyway.” bruce says with a wink sent her way, and that makes y/n giggle. bruce runs his hand from her breast down to the dip between her thigh and stomach, and he rounds the flesh of her thigh in his hand. y/n sighs out against his smiling lips, her thighs restlessly rubbing against his sides, yearning for friction, for some real touch. not that this isn’t great, she’s just growing more and more desperate and turned on by the second, by everything bruce does, by every move he makes across her skin.

bruce toys with her thigh, with the feel of her skin in his hold—it’s heavenly—pushing her thigh forwards, gripping the junction under her knee, caressing her upper thigh with his large, splayed hand. y/n’s breath catches in her throat—she can’t believe how gentle he is with her. of course, she adores it, and wants nothing more or less than these cautious touches, because she knows he will get to it when he will. she guesses she just always expected his batman persona to come out during these intimate settings—she once speculated that he’s quite the ladies’ man, and probably is in his vigilante mood when he gets down to it. this, she might say, is a pleasant surprise.

although she’s never been with anyone before, y/n knows what she wants in a partner, and she knows what she likes. and so far, bruce has checked a few boxes already, slowly checking the rest on his way now. and that again arises tears in her eyes. how careful, affectionate and attentive he is to her, to her needs, her level and zone of comfort. she’s never known love like this before, and it’s breaking her down. perhaps because it’s all she’s dreamed of those times when she’s wished for a partner. someone exactly like bruce. who knew she’d find them in an alternate universe where her home city doesn’t even exist?

she bends under his hands so easily bruce might have mistaken a doll for her, the way she completely melts against him in whatever he’s planned to do. how she willingly lets him push her thigh forwards more, how she cranes her neck when he leans down to kiss along it, how she shivers, but then bucks into his hand once he finally cups her pulsating cunt through her underwear. it makes her body do a whole reset almost—her eyelids fluttering closed and her thighs rubbing closer together, nearly capturing bruce’s arm between them. bruce grins at that and lays a kiss on y/n’s lips again, though they barely respond as she’s in a blissful state.

he can feel her wet warmth that has stained her very fitting underwear, and it drives him even crazier, even sort-of hungrier after her. bruce strokes his fingers up that patch of wetness and reaches nearly the same ecstasy as she is in. he can feel every inch of her pressing together under that fabric, in that wetness. “fuck,” he curses under his breath, resting his head in the crook of her neck, putty against her incredible might, “this all because of me?” he asks, and can hear her breaths growing heavier. he feels her chest moving more frequently, and harder against his. he’s gained confidence again, sureness of himself, because of her reactions. she’s doing wonders to him.

y/n can only nod, and it’s all the confirmation bruce needs to slip his hands into her panties and touch her without any confines or otherwise constricting factors. the real thing. he doesn’t know precisely what to do, he’s not seen a proper tutorial that would work for y/n exactly, but he can tell he’s doing the right things. both the louder and quieter noises that come from her lips, very much positive ones, tell him he’s doing a great job. y/n can’t manage to form coherent words, anyway, because bruce, bruce, bruce has taken over her mind completely.

bruce cards his fingers through her silky folds, gathering her wetness and spreading it across this most intimate area of her body, and he does so in slightly circular motions. y/n’s hands caress his body, one of them deep in his dark hair, the other on his back, digging her nails into the thick, scarred skin there. was she any more conscious of herself and bruce, she’d worry about scratching the scars open. but she can’t think further than the man’s fingers, further than his fingers on her cunt, she’s completely consumed by him.

bruce watches her face as best he can in the midst of his own arousal, and he just adores the look of her. eyes shut, fluttering open here and there, eyebrows scrunching up, lips parting, and little beads of sweat beginning to coat the skin closest to her hairline. not to mention the tears at the corners of her eyes, and the ones falling and already fallen down the side of her face. he knows they’re not ones of sadness, not anymore.

but, wanting to see what he’s doing, bruce moves slowly down her body while his fingers are still treading soft circled touches on her folds. he kisses every inch of her skin in his way, making her body spasm very gently here and there. she’s so reactive to every move he makes on her, it’s the most wonderful thing in the world. one of her hands pulls away from his back as he moves lower, no longer that much accessible to her, and the other starts to pull away from his head of hair.

when bruce is down exactly where he wants to be (a/n: that would be down bad for y/n), his face inches away from the most intimate part of her body, he looks up at her. her hands, not knowing where exactly to be or what to do, figure around the sheets, in her own hair. her chest heaves in desperation, in that insufferable yearning for ecstasy, for release. for him. “give me your hands,” bruce gently asks of her, extending his one free hand, for now, towards her. y/n does as she’s told, a little lost on what he’s planning, but moves her hands down towards bruce.

with his able one hand, the busy one still circling her lips, he holds both her wrists between his fingers and pulls them towards his hair, where he so adores them being. he knows she loves touching his hair, too, she wouldn’t do it otherwise. or does she know he likes it and only does it because of that? that’s a question for later. her fingers land in his hair, nearly at the roots now, caressing the scalp, and they fit so well, as if a magnet was pulling her hands towards his raven locks. bruce grins and gets to work.

“keep them there,” he tells her softly, the command in his words not sounding like a command at all, but rather like a gentle request, “wanna see you.” bruce fingers the elastic of her panties, playing with it for just a second or two before he begins pulling her underwear down with both his hands. y/n whines at the loss of his fingers from her cunt, but something tells her this isn’t the last of those touches. once her underwear is down her legs and off, bruce looks at the sight exposed to him. my... this glistening beauty all for him. he nearly feels his stomach grumble at the sight, he feels hunger for her, one that he’s never felt before.

he playfully, in his quest to explore her, runs his middle and index finger down between her folds again, and feels her writhing underneath. her warmth, her wetness, her beauty are unmatched. and they’re all for him to witness, to feel, to experience, to taste. can he do that? bruce’s eyes flick up to y/n, even though he knows damn well she’s not able to look him in the eye. “y/n,” he calls to her quietly, gently, and she stirs, with her eyes closed, on the sheets, “look at me.” bruce requests. and even in her haze, she’s able to finally open her eyes and look straight at him, though her orbs are consumed by a layer of lust. “can i taste you?” bruce asks.

that question makes y/n want to kick against the mattress like a spoiled child. but she keeps her composure, and only her chest ruptures and her thighs tremble in response. she tries to keep her eyes on bruce’s, but it’s so hard. her thighs rub closer together again, desperate, desperate, desperate. those must be the most enticing words she’s heard him say ever. and she gives him a nod. of course, who is she to say no to him? he’s made her feel closer to heaven than any meal or feeling before, she won’t deny him or herself this pleasure.

bruce just needs to devour every inch of her, needs to feel her against every inch of himself, and he has the blessing from her to do so. so he gets to work. at first he gently breathes onto her exposed cunt, which already makes her sigh out sharply, and then lays just a kiss on the same spot. it makes her utter an even more helpless whimper, her chest heaving more frequently for those few moments. oh, she’s so not ready for his blissful assault on her.

he returns his hand to her folds and runs the two fingers through them, teasing at her entrance for just a second or two. and his mouth moves lower, towards where his fingers are, his tongue stroking between her labia lips. y/n gasps, “bruce,” she moans out his name. bruce makes a hum in response, eyeing her with eyes that ask is this good? am i good? but, of course, with her eyes closed again, she doesn’t see them. if she would, she’d only give him a positive answer as this is quite literally the best she’s ever been made to feel in her entire life.

bruce would be a liar if he said this doesn’t bring him any pleasure, either. he’s keeping himself from moaning and grunting as much as he wants to only because he’s so focused on making her feel good. with every lap at her cunt that he makes, he yearns for more. she tastes sweet, like sugar water, like his favourite alcohol. she also tastes like his dreams, like all his hopes and plans, like everything he’s ever wished for. with every inch of her that he tastes, licks, kisses, laps at, he realises he could spend forever there, between her legs, just pleasuring her, making her come over and over again.

his fingers press onto her clit while his tongue drags across it, and it makes y/n arch her back off the sheets all while moaning his name in a high pitch, hurting her throat just a bit as it’s an unusually high note she’s reached. but as she moans his name, it comes out distorted and broken up. much like herself. “gonna put my fingers inside you, okay?” bruce asks y/n, out of breath, and looking up at her. she doesn’t see him, only hears him, and she nods.

“yes, please,” she responds with a plea, as well, only firming the erection beneath bruce’s trousers. so he circles his middle finger around her tight hole, which grows just a little bigger at the request, and, to take away any possible discomfort that she might feel at the penetrating intrusion, bruce pushes his middle finger inside her entrance with his tongue. now that makes her actually scream out, and she’s not afraid to hide it.

the noise rises goose-bumps across bruce’s skin, and he hums in appreciation against her, his lips flush against her cunt. pushing further into her, seeing how far she takes him, bruce admires every crevice, every structured inch of her inside that he can feel on his pad, against his thin skin. she’s so tight that her walls are swallowing his finger up, and it feels indescribable. he forgets himself for a moment, his lips just resting against her labia lips for now as he wonders about how it would feel with his length inside her. if this feels this great, then how will that feel? will she even be able to take him?

perhaps he needs to stretch her out, so he does his best. “gonna put another into you, baby,” bruce tells her as he sort-of gets back to earth and kisses the inside of her thigh now, trying to put some ease into her—although knowing that he’s doing the exact opposite of it with anything that he does—, “can you take another one?” bruce looks up to her again, but it’s, again, a lost cause.

but y/n hears him. “yes. yes, i think so,” she says in a whiney voice, her eyes squeezed shut, forehead and chest sweating, hands raking unevenly across bruce’s scalp—she’s a complete mess, “just do it.” i don’t care if i can’t take it. “i just need you, please.” she nearly cries at that last bit, being so close to that edge all afternoon, it seems, and bruce understands. she’s so desperate for him, and he’s sure it’s gonna kill him eventually. if not now, if not tonight, then soon.

so he pushes his index finger into her, moving it inside along the middle one, feeling her walls swallowing them both up now. bruce shudders, moaning at how incredible that feels, and licks against her clit again. he’s sure nothing can feel better than this. and y/n has that same thought. her mind is racing, as well as her heart, and her chest is heaving like it never has before, not even on the times she’s had the most intense fights. bruce’s fingers are long, she’s known that, having known how large his hands are over-all, but oh my... she never expected them to hit that deep, and on the first entrance. god, is she hallucinating? is this happening? it’s too real, too good, too incredible, to be true.

“oh, my god,” y/n squeaks out among her gasps for air. her body writhes under bruce, around his fingers, her hips are bucking rhythmically, almost as fast as to bother bruce in his incredibly important work. he lays his other hand on her lower stomach and presses down gently.

“stay still, sweetheart,” he asks of her. and even those few words, especially that pet-name, make her whine. but when he strokes her walls with his long, aiming-to-please fingers, it reaches her in such a way that makes her actually cry out, and hot tears prick her eyes once more. only this time, much heavier, much harder to resist. so she doesn’t. she lets them fall, and lets sobs torture her lungs and her whole torso with their intensity. the heels of her feet dig into her bedsheets and she tightens the hold of her hands on bruce’s hair. she can’t take this, she can barely take it.

and he makes her torture all the more intense, with his lips and tongue on her folds, intruding between them, and his fingers raking across her walls, pulling the very pads of them against her meaty surface, curling them when he gets to the deepest point in her that he can reach. she’s crying, tears streaming down her face, sobs hurting her throat, as she has never been made to feel this good, and she has never been made to feel loved like this. she has never had someone to love her, care for her, attend to her this way. she can’t fathom or take everything that she’s feeling right now, it’s driving her over the edge. “oh, my god... bruce,” she cries his name as the feeling gets way too over-whelming.

she feels like she could burst open, physically, any second now. she’s blind about what’s about to quite literally come over her, and she has no choice but to feel it, let it take control, let it do what it has to. bruce’s tongue tight on her clit, his fingers nearly scratching at her walls, she feels that terribly foreign feeling—she’d rather call it entity—fully wash over her. finally. and she realises it’s what she was waiting, pleading, begging, yearning for. this exact feeling.

her legs go numb, and she feels an over-whelming wave in the pit of her stomach, where she’s felt herself yearn for bruce, for ecstasy, many times before. now she understands. now she knows what it’s like, but she has barely time to think on it now. she can’t think at all, her arms even go limp in bruce’s hair, only having pulled at it quite hard at the very beginning of this other-wordly feeling. her eyes screwed shut, lips parted and mouth open as she cries, screams and begs, all calling to bruce.

he only makes his actions gentler on her once he realises what she’s going through, what her body’s experiencing. and his heart pulses in his chest as he watches her reach that heavenly pleasure point. his length throbs in his trousers at how she looks as she’s going through it. god, absolutely divine. unlike anything he’s ever seen before. her face when she laughs, smiles or is working on something—his wounds, for example—is breath-taking, of course. but this... bruce is sure nothing compares to this. and he can’t believe he’s rightful to see it with his own two mortal eyes.

when y/n’s screams and cries of his name die down a little in volume and intensity, and now nothing but pants are leaving her lips, bruce pulls slightly away from her. to his pleasant surprise, he finds the breath-taking sight of her dripping a white nectar from her entrance. he needs no explanation for what that is, in that sense he’s knowledgeable enough, and he grows even harder at the sight, if that’s even possible at this point. he’s so hard right now that it’s painful for him.

bruce spreads her thighs a little, as they pressed slightly closer together after she came, and caresses his thumb over her dripping entrance. she whimpers helplessly at that caress, feeling more sensitive than ever. bruce only glances at her fleetingly, his eyes trained on that come dripping out of her. fuck. this is just incomprehensible for him. it looks just like sugar cream, and he knows it tastes similar, too. he can’t resist. bruce leans closer again and licks some of it up, as much as he can get from only very slightly entering his tongue in her. and this time, her whimper is even more desperate, more pleading. almost to say i can’t anymore, because she feels so sensitive, as if it was an open wound.

and she does taste like sugar cream, sweeter than before. bruce moans like a man having his eternal hunger fed, and licks her come up just one more time for his own pleasure before he pulls away and gives her a break from his very euphoric assaults on her. bruce licks his lips clean, wanting to savour every bit of her that he gathered, and he looks down at her. god, she’s so beautiful, he can’t believe it. and she looks absolutely heavenly after an event like this. he could make her come over and over again, if it means he’d see her this true, this beautiful, every time. and he’s sure he would.

her hands have fallen by her sides, and she’s only now returning to complete consciousness. she blinks her eyes open and finds bruce staring down at her. there’s a smile on his face that almost makes her laugh. he just made her have the first and, she thinks, hardest orgasm of her life, and he’s looking down at her, smiling like a happy idiot. the most she can do is make a smile herself at him, a very gentle and faint one, and bruce’s smile only stretches bigger at that.

he leans down to her, one of his hands wrapping around her wrist, pushing it into the mattress beside her head. he kisses her lips, plump and warm, and he can feel that she’s reacting to everything a little slower now, truly blown away by him, and the feelings he makes her have. he feels proud and confident of himself, and he smiles into their kiss. his other hand rests at the curve of her waist, just above her hip, and y/n’s arms weakly wrap around bruce’s torso. for support, for something to hold onto.

“can i, uh...” bruce begins a question he’s too shy to finish in a whisper, his smiling lips dragging across the tear-wetted skin of y/n’s face as he does so, and y/n closes her eyes as her grin grows wider. more tears fall. she already knows what he wants to ask, but she’ll let him finish that sentence. if he can, of course. come on, baby, where’s your confidence? “can you—i mean, do you want to—”

but, again, y/n is an impatient person at heart. she nods her head without letting bruce finish, because the answer is yes, will always be yes, “yes,” she tells him, and because... “now, because i’m not sure i’ll be alive later,” she tells him honestly, which makes bruce laugh. and, in return, it makes her laugh, too, through her tears. her laughter’s interrupted by her soft sobs. his rare, miraculous laugh is infectious, even during such intimate moments. but perhaps it’s best for those kind of times, because it’s a way to break the tension and the pressure between them. he rests his forehead against hers and his eyes grow serious for a moment.

“are you sure about this?” he asks her in an even quieter whisper, suddenly realising how much this could (does) mean to her. and y/n looks into his in-love, half-lidded eyes.

“i am,” she assures him as she nods. one of her hands circle up to his neck, fingers curling around the nape, towards the roots of his hair, “i love you. and i want this,” y/n tells bruce, looking into his eyes for more signs of understanding. he’s nervous, she knows that, and so is she. but somehow—perhaps from the literally mind-blowing orgasm he’s already given her—perhaps with his presence, his comforting, loving presence, she feels a little less nervous about doing this. and about what this could mean between them. though nothing more than their love and desire for one another.

bruce gives her a nod then. okay, then, this is it. here it goes, he tells himself. “i love you, too,” he whispers to her in response, his eyelids fluttering again. not because he’d be lying, but because he’s nervous and shaky and over-whelmed, and feeling quite emotional. he wants to remind her to tell him if he hurts her, but since she surely told him that he could never hurt her, and she should believe it, he doesn’t. and so, with a nervous hand, y/n slips his trousers and boxers downwards, which gives bruce the freedom to free his embarrassingly—to him—large, stiff erection from its confines.

y/n gasps quietly at the look of him, at the size of him, and bruce immediately looks to her, his eyes nervously asking what’s wrong. “nothing,” she assures, “just... i hope you’ll fit.” she tells him with a gentle chuckle, and bruce grins out of relief, his dark locks falling onto her face as he hangs his head low. “you’re so big, bruce,” y/n praises to him in a whisper, and the compliment makes him shudder against her. how he hoped that would be the truth. not that y/n has anything to compare bruce to—for her completely inexperienced mind and sense of measurements, bruce is big. certainly bigger than she anticipated.

“shut up,” he tells her in an airy chuckle, which makes y/n chuckle. she knows what praise does to him. makes him feel weird, undeserving, awkward, on the spot. weird for a man of his size to doubt himself, but he does it nonetheless. always insecure, always feeling that he’s not enough. but he is. and he’d always be enough for y/n, no matter any of his measurements.

she caresses his chest with one of her hands and spreads her legs a little again, so that it’d be more comfortable for him. bruce adores the sight. “come on,” she whispers to him, pulling his face closer to hers by the back of his neck, and bruce gets the message, leaning his forehead against hers again as he watches himself, to not make a mistake, slowly push into her half-inch by half-inch, always attentively listening to every sound she makes to know if something’s wrong.

that hand of his holding her wrist against the bed sheets slips upwards to link her fingers with his own, and he feels her tightly pressing her fingers into his hand as soon as he does that. bruce feels her tense up beneath him, sees her eyes squeezing shut, as well as her mouth, and he hears a little whimper from her. he instantly worries. “do we need to stop?” he asks her in a whisper, looking at her face of discomfort. she almost seems to be holding her breath. “baby,” bruce calls to her.

y/n shakes her head, and as soon as she opens her eyes, bruce sees new tears in them. “no, no,” she tells him, “i’m okay.” she assures and looks up into bruce’s beautiful, concerned orbs. “remember what i told you,” y/n reminds him, and her hand slips from his neck to his cheek, a comforting gesture of convincing, “you could never hurt me.” she assures, and her voice breaks a little. her lip trembles, but she nods at bruce, muscles around her eyes also trembling, threatening for another session of crying. bruce isn’t sure of what to do, because he’s not sure that y/n’s crying is entirely for the best reasons. but she wouldn’t lie to him, would she? “it’s alright, bruce,” y/n tries to convince him more. she knows it’s painful for girls during their first time, always, “you’re not hurting me anymore.” she searches his eyes. “it passed.” she sniffles. “keep going.”

he’s convinced, he decides, because she really wouldn’t lie to him. he knows that. especially about how she’s feeling. she’s always honest about it, always truthful and raw to him. he grips that hand of hers more and pushes himself further inside her, to the very hilt, for now. and what he gets in return is most rewarding. not only her sensitive, clenching walls around him, and their warmth, but also a moan from y/n that he recognises to be one of pleasure. and bruce exhales deeply, resting his head in the crook of her neck as he tries to adjust to everything. because god, he’s so painfully hard, and he’s finally inside her, and it’s enough to make him come on the spot.

it comes as a surprise to y/n how little it hurt, because now she just feels the good side of this. god, this is the closest she’s been with him. closest they’ve been with each other, and the moment she’s had daydreams and night-time dreams about has finally come. and it’s so much better than she imagined, so much more fulfilling and connecting. speaking from her subjective point of view in this moment, she can say that she couldn’t imagine having her first time with anyone else. she loves bruce, and she’s thankful that he lets her be with him when he’s this exposed, this vulnerable, this naked in every sense of the word.

speaking of bruce, he’s nearly fainted above her. she brings her thumb across his cheek, and that motion makes him turn to look at her. at least he’s conscious, she thinks. “what is it?” bruce asks her, clearly oblivious to her gestures. she smiles wide, and tears pour from the corners of her eyes.

“nothing,” she says in the quietest of whispers, “just thought you’d died there for a moment.” she jokes, and bruce grins at her amused mood.

“think i did,” he says and gets above her body again, feeling confidence and strength returning to him, “you want to keep going?” bruce asks in the most affectionate of ways, and then moves his head so that his hair would flip out of his view. it’s bothering his vision, he can’t see her properly. y/n nods at his question and caresses his chest again. she looks straight into his eyes and bruce takes that as a sign to begin moving.

it’s painfully pleasuring for the both of them that movement of bruce pulling out in a slow stroke, y/n whimpers and the grip on bruce with both her hands tightens incredulously. bruce sees his length coated in y/n’s white come from beforehand, and that makes him groan.

“god, you drive me insane,” he tells y/n and then looks back at her, wanting to see only her face as he pushes back in. this time, contrasting to the very first time, her throat makes a deep, guttural moan, and the feeling of him pushing back inside her has her throwing her head back, “you feel perfect around me.” bruce praises her and y/n smiles in her blissed-out state. her arm returns to wrapping around his back, his thick, wide, muscular back, and she pulls him down enough to be able to whisper into his ear.

“you can go faster,” she says, tending to what her body requests, “please.” she adds, knowing that always does something to him. and quick enough, once bruce is comfortable with himself and how fast he’s moving, it’s nearly a race of how fast he can go. a race with himself. his body rhythmically moving above hers, his girth feeling every inch of pulsating, inviting walls clenching around him, y/n holds onto him with the hand on his back, gripping onto it out of how good he makes her feel, nearly digging her nails into his skin.

and the hand that is intertwined with bruce’s just next to her head. an affectionate connection between them, gentler than the speed and care with which bruce thrusts into y/n. sweat is collecting in thick beads on her forehead again, and on bruce’s, too. this is some exercise, he discovers, an exercise that can move an entire bed and make it squeak against the floor. their panted breaths on each other mix with the sounds of their skins meeting harshly together at their hips, where the most intimate of their connections is unravelling at a quick pace. somehow, at this moment, y/n thanks every twist and turn in her life that led her to this moment. she loves him more than she can fathom. and she sheds tears again, but really ones of the best kind this time.

“right there,” y/n whines as she feels bruce just reaching the sweetest spot inside her. the anticipation of him reaching it—because she knows he can—is like a fever in her body. bruce grapples the back of her thigh with his flat, large palm once again, and pushes her knee forwards, slightly to the side, so he could reach that spot she’s begging him to. and he does, “fuck, yes! right there, baby,” she cries out and pulls bruce’s face once again down to hers, where she harshly swallows up his lower lip.

his pet-name for her being used on him by her does quite a number on him, and he’s sure he’ll really come any next second. and because he aims to please her, the confirmation that he’s succeeded does another number on him and his close-approaching orgasm. bruce deepens their kiss, running his tongue along hers and on the inside of her lip, which makes y/n whine for him in an even higher pitch. “i won’t last much longer,” bruce tells her, his lips grazing hers faintly as he speaks in close proximity to her still. he’s afraid his confession will disrupt this event, afraid she’ll find it weird.

but she puts his worries at rest by saying, “me neither,” and giving bruce a grin. he shakes his head at that expression, wearing the smile of an idiot in love on his own lips, “give me your hand.” she requests, and bruce immediately obeys. to do that means losing his support system that helps him not crush her body with his, but he does his best to still lean above it, now closer to it than before, so close that her breasts are pressed against his chest, and he continues with his almost unnaturally fast rhythm of thrusts inside her.

once y/n has bruce’s hand at her disposal, she moves it towards her face with her free hand, that was just now around bruce’s back. now it’s holding his wrist—and bruce watches the whole thing—and moving his sweat and come coated fingers up to her mouth, where she lets the pad of his thumb meet with her lower lip at first, just gently running it from one corner to the other. bruce has got the guidance, he’s realised the message, and doesn’t need any more instructions. so what he simply tried, explored into, that day in the vehicle, was arousing for her, too. he grins, and y/n returns her hand to gripping his back, knowing that he’s read her mind now.

bruce pushes his thumb deeper into her mouth, and he feels her tongue swirling the pad of it already. he shudders, his eyes half-closing, at how it feels in combination with everything else. she’s a vixen. a siren. a witch, but an angel. he could get lost in her for the rest of his days. bruce leans down to kiss her lips while his thumb is still in the corner of her mouth, and y/n moans bestially into that kiss. bruce pulls away with a grin and pushes his thumb in and out between her lips, much like his cock is doing in and out of her cunt. fuck, he just loves this. he feels sick, twisted, although it’s nothing wrong, but he can’t help it. “you like my finger in your mouth, huh?” bruce asks her in a discovery-sort-of-voice with a cocky grin and an over-all cocky expression on his face. y/n wiggles her eyebrows and sends the man a wink, panting through her nose now as her mouth’s a little occupied with his finger.

“i love it,” she tells him, and bruce moans again, “give me more.” she requests. who is bruce to say no to that? he slowly pulls his thumb out of her mouth, but y/n doesn’t let it leave without releasing it with a slick pop noise first.

“you’re perfect,” bruce says, all kinds of fantasies running into his mind at that image, and he really feels himself just at the edge now. his thrusts get sloppier, and y/n feels it. she smiles wide at him before bruce slides his index and middle finger in between her smiling lips, and she sucks on them as well as she knows how to. bruce’s head falling to rest besides hers, his hand gripping y/n’s on the sheets, and his thrusts stalling as he pants heavily and chants her name is a give-away that he’s finally reached that euphoric point. had he any more sense inside himself at that moment, he would have felt bad for not letting y/n finish first.

but she’s coming up and along just behind him, her nails making new scars on his back with how hard they’re scratching him. her body writhes beneath his, once again she feels like a spoiled child, and she moans his name in the most beautiful of manners around those stalled fingers of his in her mouth. y/n can feel bruce emptying himself inside of her, it quite literally fills her up, and he can only groan in the complete ecstasy that is her coating his length in her nectar. after a few moments of them regaining their breaths and consciousness, y/n feels him weakly pulling out of her, robbing her of that fuller feeling, but it’s only to see what it looks like. his come inside of her, mixing with her own, leaking out.

bruce’s forehead against hers, he watches the small-scaled scene unravel before his mortal eyes, and it makes his heaved breaths turn into whines again. “fuck, look at you,” bruce muses, taking his hands away from y/n’s lips and hand and instead using them to spread her thighs apart. y/n’s back lifts off the bed momentarily at that comment, and she laughs in such a way that makes her sound drunk. perhaps this is another thing that gets her similar to a drunken state, bruce thinks as he glances at her. he moves his fingers to her entrance, and spreads her folds in such a way that makes their come really leak out of her.

y/n’s back is on the bed again and she’s whimpering in response to that feeling, bruce touching her while she has that same sensitivity as before, only perhaps much more intense now than before. she’s been made to come twice, and it’s starting to take the most wonderful toll on her. bruce looks at her again, fully now, takes in the sight of her, as his hands caress her inner thighs. to comfort and soothe hair as he best can, knowing that she might be exhausted, overstimulated, sore, and whatever else. he’s not a specialist on female bodies, but he knows y/n. and the limits she has while fighting also tell of the limits she has sexually.

he decides to litter her body with kisses and nibbles as he makes his way across it, back up to be face to face with her, on quite literally one level. and y/n squirms gently under him, wrapping both her arms around his form once he’s come in close enough range for her to do that. bruce leaves a last few wet kisses on her neck, even getting the idea to suck on the skin right below her jaw, knowing it will leave a mark. and he wants to. he wants to see that mark on her, from him. the action makes her squirm even more under him, fuelling her ever-rising arousal again. she guesses with being spider-woman she also has a higher libido than most women. how interesting. she feels sensitive, and yet like she could go for round two, three and so on.

once he’s face to face with her again, bruce caresses y/n’s forehead with his hand, moving sweat and hair off it, to see her full beauty. he smiles at her, a completely rare smile that she’s sure she’s seeing now for the first time in their time shared together ever. she can’t exactly place what that smile encompasses or shows, but she won’t question the little miracle. she smiles back and wraps her arms closer around his torso. “you feeling okay?” bruce whispers to her.

y/n nods surely. “i feel like people feel when they're drunk,” she confesses, and the two share laughter together over that statement.

“you sound the part,” bruce agrees, and y/n laughs harder. her fingers caress the marks she’s made on the skin of bruce’s back, and it nearly scares her. feels like cat scratches, almost. she searches his eyes, no doubt he’s felt them, too, of course, they’re on his back, after all. but bruce doesn’t say a word.

“how do you feel?” she asks him then quietly, cautiously, “baby.” she adds and has a giggle to herself, remembering how that pet-name made him feel just a few minutes prior. bruce shakes his head with a laugh, he’s in slight disbelief of her audacity. she will certainly use this to tease him now. “think i made some new scars on your back.” y/n admits, and her teeth bite into the inside of her lip out of slight nervousness.

“you did?” bruce says and tries to glance over his shoulder at the scars she talks about, but can’t see properly. he sits up then and glances around her room in search of a mirror. turns out there is one just on her night stand, and bruce makes a surprised facial expression at it. he turns his back to it, and y/n sits up with him now, to see the scratches. “huh.” y/n keeps her arms wrapped around his form, and traces her fingers over those lines again.

“sorry,” she says with a frown, but bruce looks down at her in slight confusion.

“don’t be,” he tells her with a shake of his head, “i like them.” bruce assures and cups her face in his palms, chasing her lips afterwards playfully, making her smile—exactly what he wanted to do. “they’ll heal faster than the others,” bruce tells her dismissively about the scars between gentle kisses on her lips, and it makes y/n giggle. how he loves this moment, just this moment between them two, he can’t even say it. y/n naked in his arms, her leaning up towards his body, both of them sitting messily on the made-messy bed sheets, just exchanging the feather-lightest, affectionate kisses.

“now that makes me kinda sad,” y/n admits in a chuckled whisper to bruce, continuing their small conversation. but it doesn’t go very far, as she’s chasing his lips now, going after them like a lion, and penetrating his mouth with her tongue when she catches them. she adores this moment, this connection, everything about it, as much as bruce does, and she wants just this moment to last for the rest of eternity. bruce’s hands on her cheeks, caressing her jawline, her cheeks and cheekbones, as well as her new hickey, and therefore pressing his arms against her breasts in their very close proximity to one another, between their bodies. his tongue playing with hers in their supposedly light kisses, her hands running across his back, bruce’s hair tickling her face and making her lips curve into smiles. a sudden fear of losing him, of losing this moment, creeps into her mind almost like a jump scare, and it makes her pull just an inch away and look into bruce’s eyes with such a serious glaze that it nearly scares him, too, “don’t leave this time.” she pleads him, remembering all those mornings she’s woken up without him here.

bruce furrows his eyebrows. “this time?” he echoes, and y/n nods.

“you’ve always been gone when i woke up here after our nights out,” she explains and leans into the cupid hold his hands have made around her face, avoiding his eyes for just a second. oh, all those nights they stayed up talking until y/n broke and fell dead asleep. she looks up into his dark, understanding eyes. she’s making him see so many things he’s been blind to all this time, “please. stay.” y/n says in a small voice.

bruce makes a smile as his thumb crosses her gentle, plump cheek again. “i won’t leave,” he promises her, “but shouldn’t you be the one making that promise?” bruce teases, grinning and raising an eyebrow. y/n rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips again. now, he has some nerve. but he’s right.

“if me leaving ends up like this every time,” she says with a playful facial expression, “i might just do it again.” y/n challenges and gives bruce a mischievous look. he shakes his head and presses it against hers, forehead to forehead, admiring her humour and marvelling at the fact that it has returned. he now realises he missed it a lot. her light-heartedness, her sarcasm and slight teasing here and there. it used to fill up that gothic bedroom of the riddance bed they shared, but for this time that he didn’t see her, the room was filled with nothing but darkness, gloom and the smell of sweat. “but i won’t,” y/n assures him, breaking them both out of their daydreams and fascinations with each other, “i promise.” she nods. “i trust you, now more than ever.” y/n closes her eyes as she breathes out a sigh. “i don’t want to lose you, either.” she echoes the words he said before.

bruce watches her face as he huffs through his nose, trying to do it quietly, so she wouldn’t think he’s mad with her. he’s not anymore. as said before, she’s opened his eyes to so much, especially lately, and he understands her and the world so much better. perhaps he also understands himself better, too. either way, to bruce, this is the start of a much greener path. and not just for him.

.

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[har-rison-s]

mask & seek:6

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

a/n: hello! sorry to be gone for a few days, work and school are kicking my ass. hardly finished this chapter, and i hope i finished it good. christ, i'm nervous and scared because i feel that as soon as my story starts to gain popularity and attention, my writing for it becomes worse?? idk why but i certainly hope that's not the case, and i always give my all to each of my writings. also - thank you for the amazing, incredible feedback on this series. it means the world to me, i could not be happier with all you loving this story and my writing :')) thank you so so so so much, and happy reading!

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part five

part seven

warnings: descriptions of injuries, of fixing one; steamy times but not smut; injury getting worse; mentions of sexual experience; oh and the best one - silent pining :)

word count: 6.4k

song req: unseen tides by rachel portman

gif credit goes to creator / owner!!

gotham can take care of itself while y/n is bed-ridden, bruce had decided. perhaps it’s pink, heart-shaped glasses that he might be wearing, but for now, she is his number one priority, and the crimes in his beloved city don’t seem as important to prevent as it is to be by her side and help her progress. only a day has passed, and they’ve yet to know if she can walk—on her own or with help.

bruce is always ready to go by and far to please her desires, whether they’re talking food, entertainment, medical acquirements… he’s ready to pull whatever strings he can to get her what she wants and needs, and he’s succeeded thus far. she doesn’t have a specific taste in food or books or movies, and she also doesn’t want the guy to get everything that she likes, because it would just be too much asked of him. well, not to bruce. if he’d hear that argument, he would argue strongly against it. there’s never something he could do too much for her. what might seem too much for someone, is just barely enough in bruce’s eyes.

they both owe a debt to each other, but that debt is also constantly being paid between them both. they’re constantly exchanging favours to the point that their relationship is something more than partners or team members. it’s something more than friendship, too, but neither of them could put it into words if they were asked. an interesting relationship that exists on a set of unspoken ground rules, as well as their own trust and sometimes even hesitance for trust. truly indescribable.

neither of them have brought up those few fleeting kisses they shared that first evening she was conscious. they’re both too anxious to talk about them—they don’t want to make it awkward, don’t want to weird the other out, they don’t want to ruin its sacredness. both of them loved the kiss, and loved sharing it with precisely the other, and that kiss somehow means a lot to both of them. but they couldn’t talk about it if they tried.

in each silent look they give one another, there’s always questions in their eyes. what did the kiss mean? will it happen again? what did it mean to you? should it happen again? did you like it? do you like me? and all kinds of similar questions. both are adults, and yet are as shy and anxiety-ridden as teenagers.

there’s something hiding behind that truth. in some way, bruce still is a teenager, he has both the awkwardness and inexperience of a teenager. he also has the instincts and behavioural traits of that age group. mood swings, sexual urges, the-whole-world-is-against-me syndrome, no-one-understands-me syndrome, as well, and all kinds of others.

it is true, he hasn’t had any sexual experience apart from what he chooses to do by himself. whether that makes him more appealing or less so, he doesn’t know, and likes to think he doesn’t care. but it’s not true. since that kiss, he’s felt so nervous around her he can hardly say the most elementary words to her. can she tell he’s inexperienced? what does or would she think of him if that topic came up? would she still like him? would she still want to kiss him?

y/n herself, in truth, hasn’t had much experience, either. no one liked her in secondary or high school, or even college. and because she’s led this double life since sixteen years of age, it’s never been a prominent problem to get on or solve. and from the horrible things she’s seen happen to women and children, she’s quite sure nothing could make the topic of having any kind of sex safe or comfortable to her. sure, she’s thought about doing it with a couple people throughout her adult life, but all those times the thoughts seemed… forced. almost like she just had to have them, when in reality they’re not thoughts she’d want to have or has by default. and nothing happened out of them, anyway.

somehow bruce has changed that. especially now, when he’s comfortable enough to just hang around her in his trousers, wearing nothing more, those thoughts are all she has. she can only guess none of the people before were right for her and her comfort, while previously she thought something must have been wrong with her in the way she was wired. but now bruce has come along, made her see herself differently, and made her comfortable enough around him, and to be comfortable with herself.

she might even say he’s changed everything. due to alfred’s command not to make any moves for one more day, y/n is stuck in her half-sitting, half-laying down position, but bruce is always by her side to get anything done in her stead. at some point, she’s started to feel like a helpless little girl, and nearly gets angry at him for doing almost actually everything for her. but she tries to keep her anger inside, because it’s not bruce’s fault that she feels like this. it’s her own twisted brain.

they’ve spent so much time, and so intimately most of it, together that he’s learned to be able to tell when she wants to reach for some object or do something out of her recommended movements, and he’s there for the help. he can nearly sense every desire of hers to move. now that they’re laying across each other—y/n at the headboard of the bed with a book in hand and bruce leaning against the footboard of the bed with his notebook and a pen in hand—there’s complete calm between them. there’s silence in the room, but alfred’s playing his beloved classical music in a different part of the tower, and y/n and bruce both can hear it.

before she even parts her lips to say what she wants to, before she even finishes the sentence in her mind, bruce already tilts his head slightly to her and looks at her. their eyes connect, and y/n grins and shakes her head in disbelief. he’s like a security guard. “i swear, you’re picking up that instinct of mine,” she tells him quietly with a chuckle, and then closes her book, her thumb serving as a bookmark. bruce gives her a light smile and sits up.

“what is it?” he asks her, already knowing there’s a request coming his way. perhaps her spidey sense really is sticking to him. like the flu.

y/n picks at the edge of her book, “i just wanted to ask…” she starts to say quietly. bruce does the same thing with his notebook as she did with her book, only he uses his pen as the bookmark, his back brought forward to listen to her intently, “whether you want to come closer? lay next to me? if it’s alright.”

bruce gives her a wider smile, thinking i thought you’d never ask. but he doesn’t say anything, he just nods and crawls over the bed to lay next to her. since it’s a more comfortable position to write and draw in, he lays on his stomach right next to her and puts his notebook on one of the pillows before him before opening his pen again. y/n smiles at him fulfilling her request, and bruce watches her hide that smile behind her book. he grins and goes on filling the pages of his notebook, that grin staying in place all that while.

now that he’s close to her, she can feel the heat of his body practically radiating off of him in a half-yard radius. he’s like a heater all on his own, and since she’s been quite the immobile, therefore not providing any heat for her body herself, she appreciates that. his closeness to her, and the strange fact that men usually have a higher body temperature than women do. it’s a weird fact, but one she is much thankful for right now.

sometimes during the night, it gets too hot for her—to sleep under one blanket with bruce. and she can’t sleep when it’s that hot, so she unfortunately, much to her own and his dismay, has to ask him to slepe above the blanket. she wouldn’t want him sleeping on the sofa or in that beloved arm-chair next to the bed instead, even though that’s what he always offers to do. no, she always wants him here, next to her. it just so happens that it gets too hot during the night with his heating device of a body.

y/n has to admit she can’t focus on her book much anymore, even though it’s more interesting than anything she’s read before, while bruce is laying next to her with that sculpted back of his on full display. scars litter the skin on almost every inch of it, his back being an autobiography as much as his kevlar suit that she examined closely is. someone or something is behind each of the scars she sees, and now she’s more intrigued to find out who or what exactly it was.

she puts her book down at her side and turns her body slightly to the side to face bruce more properly. he turns his head at her immediately, the black strands of his hair making him look so much younger than he is from the angle she’s in right now. he watches as she reaches her hand out and once it’s out of view, he feels the gentle touch of her fingers on his back. he gives her weary eyes, but she looks back with soft ones, trying to tell him she’s not doing anything bad or intruding without actually saying it. a tiny smile also lingers on her lips, and he takes that into account, relaxing himself.

he feels her tracing over his scars and bumps, and for a second there, he gets really insecure. he looks down to his notebook, avoiding her eyes and the question she might ask at his strange behaviour, but then he reminds himself: it’s y/n. she’s seen practically the worst of his nights, they worst they can get. and he’s seen her nearly-fatal injury for a couple times now over the past few days, and she had no problem in it being seen by others. because she was holding bruce’s hand all the while, and, as she later assured him, he was with her for the entirety of it.

so nor does he have anything to be insecure about, he also doesn’t have to get unnecessarily nervous. that’s hard to fight, of course—anxiety. but she seems to be curing his one step at a time. and so he lets her touch his scar-ridden back with her soft, well-meaning hands, without any avoidance or hesitance. and bruce discovers he likes his back being touched. such a soothing manner that occasionally sends a shiver down his spine, and most of all—it’s y/n who is touching him. that’s a big factor on its own.

“you have so many of these,” y/n says in awe, speaking so quietly she nearly whispers the words, “how long have you been doing this?” she asks, and they both realise this question has never come up in their conversations before. all these four months, and though they’ve been curious about each other’s duration of this vigilante work, they’ve never asked each other this.

bruce flips through the pages of his notebook to get to the very first page, and he reads the date on it. “almost two years,” he tells her. y/n raises her eyebrows. she certainly expected a shorter time period.

“wow,” she just says in response and continues tracing the various scars. the one closest to her, right under his right shoulder blade, picks her interest. it’s part of a whole group of scars around that area, and all of them look brutal. but she traces that one precisely, like a musician would read notes on sheets of music, “how did you get this one?” she gently asks in her marvel at the sight of it, and she looks to bruce. he’s almost tucked his chin over his shoulder to see it, and when he does, he rests his head on his folded arms before him. y/n can’t help but admire the look of his arm muscles, the way they tie with his shoulders and back, making her realise more and more how much everything in the human body is connected.

“the joker,” he tells her and their eyes connect. the what?, “at least that’s what the newspapers call him. it was the night i finally caught him and brought him to gordon, my friend in police,” bruce tells further, and she nods, remembering the guy’s name from when bruce first mentioned it a month before, “he has a knack for knives and other sharp, tiny objects.” y/n smiles at how bruce says the word ‘tiny’, in some way he makes himself sound tiny by saying it. “stuck them all up my back, because… it was just convenient and he wanted a good laugh,” bruce subtly shrugs and lays the side of his face fully across his crossed arms, and he looks up at y/n.

his tar black hair is falling into his eyes, and y/n smiles at that. she moves her other hand to those fallen strands and pushes them away from bruce’s face, trying to tuck them back in place, but they keep falling back away with each of her attempts. they both laugh at that circumstance, y/n feeling a bit hopeless that even she can’t move it into place. but it must be from the way bruce is laying down—his hair can’t deny gravity. it would be able to do that had he not showered the last couple days, the grease in unwashed hair usually keeps it in place in a very weird manner. but because he’s with her, and because alfred is checking up on them every once in a while, bruce has tended to a showering time-table, surprising even himself.

“he sounds intense,” y/n says in a voice nothing more than a whisper, her hand still on bruce’s hair. they’re looking closely into each other’s eyes, “and unwell.” she adds. bruce chuckles at that.

“he is,” bruce confirms, “serving multiple life sentences in arkham right now for what he did.” another word that sounds like one y/n should know, and yet she doesn’t. arkham. sounds pretty intimidating. “a serial killer who wants nothing more than to watch the world burn, as alfred said.” bruce tells her, and a light smile hangs on his lips. y/n nods. sounds like gotham is much more insane than new york, or the whole universe she’s from.

she remembers the russian lunatic who attacked tony stark. she also recalls helmut zemo, who just wanted to destroy the avengers from within. not to mention the big, angry purple titan who felt entitled to salvaging the world (spoiler: it didn’t work!) within his own terms. the world is full of crazy guys with the guts to change the world to their liking, and they seem to be concentrated in this one universe and city: gotham.

“how long ago was the joker business?” y/n asks, her hand still tracing over the scars soothingly. once again bruce can tell she’s not from here. joker business. she didn’t even say anything about arkham. both the joker and arkham are strangers to her, unknown to her, have not penetrated her library of knowledge and known information. somehow he really likes that. someone blind to this world of horrors he’s been living in since birth.

“a year,” bruce says, “around a year ago.” he says surely, but a heavy feeling sits on his words. y/n can read him so well. finally, she can do it.

“they took some time to heal, huh?” she asks him, her fingers now making figures across the skin on his back. triangles, squares, rings, even a pentagon. bruce nods. the scars don’t look easy to get over, judging partly by the fact that they’re still visible.

“took a lot of convincing from alfred to take a break for a while from…” he tilts his head from side to side playfully, “well, you know what.” bruce looks at y/n as he says this, and gives her a light grin. she returns the gesture, and nods, and keeps tracing the forms on his back. she can tell he likes it by the way his body responds to her touches. a shiver here and there, but over all a big agreement and welcoming of her touching and tracing his skin. he doesn’t turn away from her, he doesn’t twitch or get startled at any point. it means a great deal to her.

“you like that?” she asks him in a very quiet whisper. her eyes glance between bruce’s eyes and her hand tracing lines and figures on his back. bruce blinks at her with half-oblivious eyes, and their stares connect again in that sacred connection. “tracing lines and figures on your back?” she asks more precisely.

he does. he really does. it’s something new he’s just now discovered about himself, and it’s y/n who made him have that discovery. what a sacred thing. bruce nods, “yes,” he truthfully tells her in just as quiet a whisper as she spoke in. y/n smiles at him and continues tracing those lines, forms and scars on his skin, and nods in acknowledgement to his answer. who is bruce to not tell her the truth? what she’s doing feels heavenly, and if she knows the effect on him, she’s not going to stop doing it. unless she gets bored, of course. he knows her well.

and so she lays there, turned to bruce at the best of her abilities, tracing scars and figures into his skin like they’re sacred text. she can’t stop marvelling at him, at his scarrings, and the tales each one must tell. after his short story about the joker, she realises she’s very curious about each of the scars and their backstories. but she also likes the silence settled between her and bruce. and as much as he likes to boast about who he beat up, took on or whatever, she can tell he’d much rather just lay and let his back be softly touched. and bruce enjoys the silence, as well. he always does, with her.

bruce likes to watch her, also, while her fingers work the gentle magic. how both concentrated and focused her face is—how her lips slightly pull tighter against one another then, how her eyebrows ever so slightly draw closer to each other, and her eyes grow a bit darker. she is a sight for his sore, bag-adorned eyes, and he could stare at her forever. occasionally, she looks over at him, too, and on those occasions bruce gives her a light smile. their kisses exchanged more than a day ago, and her recently spoken words fresh in his mind.

she feels him looking at her all this time, and, for a person who really does not like her face out in the open or any attention on herself for that matter, she really enjoys him doing so. she guesses it’s bruce that makes the whole difference… he makes her feel really comfortable, more comfortable than, she guesses, anyone has before him in her life. and it’s an indescribable feeling. like weight falling off her shoulders, a feeling she’s never had before, really. there’s always been so much pressure and weight on her, nearly all her life. and he’s taking it away. how can he do that?

“don’t go falling asleep on me now,” y/n says to bruce a bit louder than she previously spoke, having noticed his droopy eyelids and his head occasionally dropping lower. he smiles at her faintly with his eyes closed, but then he opens them and smiles wider upon seeing her. she looks into his eyes, “come closer.” she requests in that same whisper as before, and who is bruce to deny her that pleasure? he supports his body on his elbows and pushes himself sideways, closer to where she helplessly lays, with her torso and head atop that pillow support system. she withdraws her hand from his back for the short time being, but when the hand returns, it’s no more just a finger or two. it’s her entire palm.

she lays it in the middle of his back, near the small of it, and looks at him again. their bodies and faces close as they’ve ever been, close as they were on that evening they kissed, and they’re looking into each other’s eyes that you might think if either of them looked away, it would mean death for either or both. like nothing good outside of the other’s captivating orbs exists, or ever could.

everything that they both feel at that moment is evident starkly in their eyes. nervousness, longing, yearning, adoration. they’re reaching for something, but not with physical hands. each other. the urge is to connect, to stick to one another limb by limb until they become one.

with that hand of hers on his back, bruce feels closer to her already. but it isn’t enough. so he scoots even closer to her and turns to lay on his side. y/n lays partly sideways, because her injury won’t permit her to turn completely, and only looks into the man’s eyes as he cautiously moves his hand towards her face. he’s nervous and dreading rejection, so he does cautiously and slowly.

his palm rests on the very side of her face, cupping her cheek gently, the pillow under his thumb colliding with her cheekbone. the thumb itself caressing her blushing cheek with a slow stroke, bruce looks into her eyes and searches them. for what? the truth, maybe. giving in, also. his orbs move nervously from one side to the other among the whiteness in his eyes that seems to match the paleness of his skin. his eyes, eyebrows and hair the very dark contrasts in his visual appearance.

“can i…” he begins and then trails off, not knowing really what to call that accidental incident they had on that evening before. to call it what it is—kissing—seems to bold now. bruce feels that if he might say that word out loud, an explosion might occur in the room. he gulps, still looking at her, and seeing that there’s awaiting in her eyes, “can i do it again?” he asks in a subtle manner, a whisper below a whisper.

y/n knows what he means. she wouldn’t dare call it what it is out loud, either. and she thought he’d never bring it up again, and that she should keep the memory and all her enticing thoughts about him just to herself forever. her face makes a very wide smile at first, at his question, so wide it nearly makes her shed tears. but then she gets herself under control, blinks a couple times to clear her vision and makes the smile grow smaller, until it’s just a very faint one on her lips. and then she gives bruce a nod in response. an eager one at first again, just like with the smiles, and then a less-eager and more confirming one.

bruce could write a whole notebook or two full of just thoughts about this very small, short moment between them both. more about her reaction, the emotions he saw on her face, in her eyes, the reaction he coaxed out of her. for him, it is an honour to be able to do so. and so he gives her the gentlest smile and a subtle nod, just to say he’s accepted her answer, before he leans his head closer to hers and does what he asked for her permission to do.

and when their lips are at last joined together again, both their eyes close on their own terms and the two people relax against one another. to the point they melt together in an intimate exchange. both of them thought they might never be able to do this again, unless a miracle happened. the miracle in question was bravery. bravery did appear in bruce, and now they’re both pleased again. more than pleased. ecstatic would be a better word to describe the feeling.

much like teenagers, they’re yearning to know what the other likes. as well as what the other feels like at certain moments, positions, situations. what would they think if this happened, if one did this thing or other? curiosity to know one another from start to beginning, to the very deepest of depths. and with each kiss, they think that curiosity will be fed. and after each kiss they discover that it isn’t fed just like that. and so they do something a little differently, and the cycle goes on repeat without end.

their noses and foreheads bump together here and there, and it makes both of them chuckle airily when it happens. it’s lips on lips, kissing more and more heatedly with every next one, until it’s tongue against tongue, and then the first noises of pleasure appear between them, but none of them loud enough to echo around the room. not that it would matter for either of them, they’ve completely forgot about a world outside of themselves.

most of them are from y/n, and she doesn’t feel at all inclined to lessen them because she can tell bruce likes her making them. she guesses it’s a way through which he knows he’s doing something right. and honestly, he’s doing a lot of things right. one of his hands holding the side of her head, the other gently holding her side, since he’s nervous, doesn’t want to step over the line, and doesn’t want to hurt her, either.

it’s nearly painful for both of them how good all of this feels. like someone keeps digging a knife into their heart, but is also feeding them their favourite meals at once. it’s certainly strange, but something they both seem to like, too. it’s when bruce moves his lips from hers, and instead lays a kiss on her cheekbone, that she moans aloud for the first time. with his hand holding onto her face, he moves his thumb under her chin to lift it ever so slightly and kiss right under her cheekbone, and then just under her ear, and then down her neck along her artery.

one of her moans gets stuck in her throat at that, and y/n fears she won’t take another breath to save her lungs for the foreseeable future. but all is saved in the next second, and she gets over herself, as she grounds herself again and regains her breath, although made in gasps and pants. “you liked that?” bruce whispers to her, and y/n nods. bruce feels that response more than see sit, so he kisses over again just that one spot that drove her insane, to cause her pleasure, and coax that wonderful reaction from her that goes straight to the sensitive place in his body. had she not got her injury, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. he hardly can even now.

y/n places her other hand across bruce’s chest, and she admires it as she moves her palm across the endless rows of muscle and skin. god, she adores him. everything new that she learns about him, sees in him, is inviting her inside his world more and more, making him better than the best possible thing she has imagined about him. she can’t believe he’s real, and that he’s in her hold, and that he’s kissing her. bruce is kissing her.

though he’s touching her as well, she feels him rigid against herself. she guesses it’s been a long time since he last did something along the lines of this. but then again, that nervousness is different. the way he feels under her, against her, is the anxiety of an inexperienced person. she doesn’t know how she can tell, because she’s just the same as him. but perhaps that is the exact reason why. she knows how he feels, because she feels the exact same. they’re one and the same, again.

bruce’s hand only cautiously holding her side tells her enough. and so she gently takes it in between her own fingers and guides it under her shirt, where he can feel along her bare skin. for a second, he stalls, and looks into her eyes for confidence. she gives him a quick nod, lays his hand on her waist, and then kisses his lips again, so that he could be convinced without thinking twice about it. “you can touch me, bruce,” she whispers to him, “you can touch me.”

that’s practically all he needed to hear, though his nervousness does remain. it’s deeply-rooted within him, he’s afraid, with no way to get rid of. but he can touch her, she said so herself. so he moves even impossibly closer to her, that hand of hers still on his back, fingers digging into his thick skin here and there, when bruce touches or kisses her a particular way. her other hand, the one that guided his to her waist, is cradling the back of bruce’s head and cording through his night-black hair strands. he loves when she does that.

bruce lets his curious hands venture up towards her breasts, and he handles one of them through her bra. y/n moans immediately and her grip on bruce’s hair tightens. “fuck,” bruce nearly combusts, and from the wave of electricity washing through his body, he rests his head in the crook of her neck, his warm skin against hers. as soon as his trance is somewhat gone, he begins kissing on the other side of her neck, kissing and lapping at her soft skin that he can’t get enough of. both his hands are now under her shirt, fondling her breasts to the best of his knowledge and abilities. he’s never done this before, he doesn’t really know what to do. all that he knows is that he has his instincts, and that there are certain movements that make her feel good.

“yes, bruce,” y/n manages to squeak out between her moans and panting breaths. her hand is nearly uncontrollable in bruce’s hair, she is nearly yanking it every time he presses just the correct buttons in her. without asking permission now—he really has become braver and bolder since her quiet assurance that he can touch her—he pulls the same shirt he put on her just yesterday up and over her head, disrupting their physical bond just for a few seconds. but as soon as it’s off, they’re joined again, and bruce moves his lips from her cheeks and neck down to between her breasts.

y/n moves her body to lay on her back again, and bruce follows her along. he settles a leg on each of her sides, towering above her in every sense of the word, and leans down to her barely-covered chest again. her hands free, resting by her head, she squirms under bruce’s most pleasant assault on her skin. he kisses her breasts, he kisses the skin above, below and between them, and occasionally he laps at it like a kitten would lap milk. like he’s hungry for her, like she was his only bowl of water on a deserted island. her eyes are screwing shut, she throws out moan after moan, and they all work for bruce’s own pleasure, too.

but from all her squirming and writhing, her side starts to hurt. very subtly at first, so subtly that she barely notices, but as bruce and herself get more and more heated, the pain grows from subtle to very apparent and then to intolerable. it is at this point that y/n cries out again, but bruce can tell it’s not because of him. he stops immediately, sobering up in a split-second, and looks at her from slightly above. he sees tears running down her cheeks, her face holding an over-all painful expression, and his heart nearly dies in his chest.

bruce moves immediately off her, and sits next to her instead. she’s not saying a word to him, and he finally remembers what might be wrong. he looks down at her left side, and sees that the injury looks more red than it did this morning. bruce panics, his breath catching in his throat, and he moves his hands around in an awkward, not-knowing-what-to-do manner. alfred isn’t here, and it would be very awkward to call on him now, though that idea does flash in bruce’s mind.

he would mostly be embarrassed for himself and y/n to explain why her wound started hurting and turning redder. and as much as he hates feeling shame himself, it would be worse for her. so he just struts the few steps over to the trolley with all the pills and medical instruments on it and searches for—painkillers! painkillers are what she needs. he keeps hearing her quiet sobs and cries while he looks for the pill-type ones, because god knows alfred has all kinds of liquid ones that should be injected through a catheter. but bruce knows his skills at inserting a needle, and they’re practically non-existent. but they’re even more so when he’s stressed and under pressure.

finally, he finds the box of pills, and then fetches the glass of water on the nightstand, and sits next to y/n again. bruce pushes three pills out of the folium line and places them in y/n’s shaking hand. he knows three might be a lot even for her, and that it’s likely they’ll send her into an immediate sleep, but her pain is internal more than external, and so three will be a good amount, “here.” he tells her quietly, but loud enough so she could hear above her own cries. y/n takes the pills and looks at bruce with tear-filled eyes, a sight which breaks his heart.

“hurts,” she whines to him before downing the pills. bruce is quick to hand her the glass of water to help get the three little painkillers down.

“i know, baby, i know,” he tells her in a rush, only afterwards registering what exact words he used. now, y/n may be in a lot of pain and upset with herself, but those words reach her ears and nearly make her spit the water out. baby? bruce looks at her with the same lost expression she has on her face, but then she takes another swig of her water like nothing happened. and so he follows that example along, looking away and moving his hands nervously up and down his thighs.

y/n gulps and lays back against her pillow support system, panting and sniffling here and there, trying to level with the pain. in a few seconds, bruce doesn’t feel embarrassed anymore, and he turns to look at her. at the sight of her, that oh-so-painful sight of her, his hand instinctively reaches out and rests on her thigh. just for comfort. she turns her head to the side to look at him. but then she shakes her head and hides her face with her hands.

“shit, i’m sorry, i didn’t—” she doesn’t know exactly what to say, and she shakes her head again, “i had no idea that would happen, i’m sorry.” she takes her hands away and looks at bruce. he sees her eyes filling with tears again, and her lip starting to quiver. bruce squeezes her thigh in what he hopes is a comforting way and shrugs.

“there’s no way you could have,” he assures her, “and don’t be sorry.”

“no, i am—” she begins, “i know you…” want me, “wanted—want—to…” she can’t seem to finish any thought that she starts. her head shakes again and she even breathes a sad chuckle, “you know. and i did—do—too. but…” she looks away from him, disbelief in her eyes that wander across the room. bruce leans in closer to her.

“it’s not your fault,” he tells her with a gentle shake of his head. y/n looks back at him. and she just stares at him for a minute, for as long as he lets her do it. searching his eyes for something, anything—what?! she shakes her head once again.

“i don’t know what we’re doing here,” she tells him honestly. and at first, those words hurt bruce, “i’ve never done… anything before, really. but i’m liking it so far—though that is an understatement.” y/n confesses. “but i think we’re gonna have to wait however long for my damn side to heal.” she gets angry at herself, and it makes bruce chuckle because he finds her so adorable. he lays a kiss on her forehead, which pleasantly surprises y/n and makes her cheeks blush. she nearly gasps at the affectionate gesture.

“i don’t know, either,” he tells her in a whisper, “but i like it, too.” he says. the question of really? forms in her mind and is evident in her eyes to bruce, and he immediately nods. “and i want it,” he admits and leans his head down to her neck again, kissing it softly, “i want you.” now that is a game changer. to say you instead of it really turns everything around, and makes everything clearer for the both of them. he wants her? he really does? does he want her as much as she wants him? should she even ask that? “so much that i can wait.” bruce assures and pulls back to see her.

“you will?” y/n asks with a smile and tears in her eyes. bruce nods and gives her a warm smile. y/n’s smile grows in size and more tears fill her eyes. she’s so emotional again, she can’t stand that. but she rests her forehead against bruce’s and closes her tear-filled eyes, letting the tears fall from them as she sighs out in relief.

“i never want to hurt you,” bruce tells her in a whisper no one else would be able to hear, and that confession makes tears run to y/n’s eyes again. she bites her lower lip in a smile she makes, all the while doubting that this man is real. how can he? he’s got the characteristics of the perfect man, but they don’t exist. and least of all, here in gotham. but it’s clear that he’s proved her wrong a lot of things. about herself, about him. the list keeps growing, and y/n is glad that it does.

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[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 2

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

a/n: hello! due to popular demand, i am back with part two :))) i'd already anticipated that this would turn into a series somehow. it's just impossible not to, with that kind of premise. hope you're all enjoying it so far, and happy reading!

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part one

part three

warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of brothels, mentions of injuries. oh and the best one - silent pining :)

word count: 5.4k

full credit to gif owner / maker!!!

y/n struggles with cleaning her own wound up, the one on the back of her upper thigh, even with the help of a mirror. defeated, she huffs and walks out of the bathroom again, disinfectant and cloth in hand. batman, now mask-free—so a complete stranger—still lounges on her sofa, as she ordered him to because of his injuries, staring out of her high window, and she walks towards him. nerves kick in and she suddenly feels shy around him.

“could you, uh…” she mumbles to him and that makes the guy turn his head to look at her, “could you help me with the cut?” she asks. her hand fidgets with the cloth in hand as she now waits for his response. she doesn’t have to wait long.

“sure,” batman says in response, “what do i have to do?” y/n steps closer to him and is about to turn her back to the man when he makes her laugh and stop in her tracks momentarily with his odd question.

“you’ve never tended to wounds before, i see,” she discovers and then hands him the disinfectant and cloth. now they look at each other, “just do what you saw me do. clean the cut up, and then i’ll give you plasters and a gauze.” bruce nods his head, seeing as she could clean up and fix all of his wounds, he shouldn’t have any troubles with it, either.

he never really has healthily tended to his own wounds, he’s never gone to the hospital, either. although alfred’s insisted multiple times that he does. but in those cases, bruce has let him fix the injuries. but since he’s seen what a toll they take on alfred, not to mention the process behind how bruce gets those injuries, bruce hasn’t let him fix them that often. only when it’s quite literally a life or death situation. otherwise, he’ll live.

so y/n turns around and bruce’s eyes land on the dirty and still bleeding long cut across her thigh, how—even though she says she heals fast—horrendous it looks. whoever cut her, also ripped a line in her very impressive suit. now he sees that it’s made out of spandex—huh. light and flexible. course, it’s not any protection against bullets, but to a woman of her speed and skill it’s not a big deal.

bruce doesn’t want to cause her any discomfort, so he cleans her wound with touches that are as gentle and careful as he can muster. he does hear the occasional whimper and hiss of pain, and in those moments, his hand immediately withdraws from her and he looks up at her, “sorry.” he whispers in his fragile state that transponds into his voice.

she shakes her head, “don’t worry,” she tells him, “you won’t hurt me,” she assures. bruce looks away from her and looks instead to his hand holding the disinfectant cloth. you won’t hurt her. so he keeps cleaning as softly as he can manage.

though one thing is itching at his mind, “thought you said you heal faster,” he rasps, and wants to ask why am i even doing this if that’s true? next, but she speaks up before he can.

“i do heal faster,” she begins, but then utters a hiss at the burning sensation, “i still need to clean the wounds, though. my body may be immune to colds and diseases, but not to infections.” she clarifies.

“you’ve never been sick with the flu?” bruce makes sure and y/n chuckles again.

“yeah, i forgot to mention that,” she says, “haven’t had the flu in more than twelve years, yes.” she nods with her head gently. she supposes a regular man like him does get the flu still, if he ever has the chance to.

“all done,” bruce hands her the cloth and disinfectant, and y/n nods. she takes the few steps over to her bag again and fishes out another huge plaster and then fetches some of the left-over gauze, too, before handing them over to bruce. fragility lingers in his orbs as their eyes connect, but there’s also trust, as it is present in her own orbs. she gives him another kind smile and stands with her back to him again.

neither of them say a word while bruce carefully sticks the plaster onto her skin, covering the cut completely. he makes sure to still be gentle and precise, and this time y/n makes no sounds of pain or protest, so he must be doing a good job. and finally, he secures a good length of the gauze around her thigh, fixing the plaster to her even more firmly.

“done,” he tells her again and y/n turns to him with a smile.

“thanks,” she says and collects all the plaster papers on the couch to throw them into her trash bin. bruce can’t help but stare after her as she walks to her kitchen and back, still humming that same tune. only when she’s coming out of the kitchen, she’s holding something in her hands again. no papers or medical equipment anymore, but two glasses of a dark-coloured drink. she takes a seat next to bruce on the sofa and hands him one of the glasses. he eyes it before taking it, and then looks at her, “it helps the pain, batsy,” she informs him, “not mine, though.” she takes a sip from her glass.

bruce drinks the liquid, and finds it quite pleasant to his taste buds, and he looks at her again. “you can’t get drunk?” he asks, and y/n shakes her head. “so you’re getting me drunk.” he states and y/n shakes her head again, this time with an amused laugh echoing from her lips around the room.

“i wouldn’t do that,” she says honestly, “as i said, it helps with the pain. numbs it, at least.” she says, but bruce doesn’t need to be told twice. he’s had his years of forgetting and swimming in all kinds of intoxicators. maybe it’s not an entirely good idea that he’s drinking now.

“i know,” he says before downing another swig of the drink. must be whiskey. y/n gives him a curious look, with worry right behind her eyes of caution, and discovers the guy isn’t looking back at her. she positions one of her arms across the sofa’s backrest to get more comfortable, her side resting against the pillows. batman’s pieces of armor lay between herself and him, creating a somewhat line.

“what happened out there tonight, anyway?” she asks him with a more playful voice. “i’ve seen you take out more than four guys at once with ease before, what was wrong this time?” she asks him, and notes how even while she asks him the question, and while he thinks on his answer, and while he later gives her one, he doesn’t look back at her. only glances once or twice, his eyes a bit rabid, like a mouse’s.

“they came prepared,” he says, the last word hanging on his tongue a little heavy, “should have waited a longer time to try and them take down again. last time i did was two nights ago.” he tells her, and only now fully looks at her, truth and trust dripping from his eyes as the dark pomade around them is. he looks very vulnerable to y/n.

and it takes her back in a slight way. if this man decides to trust her, he trusts her completely, with no hesitance, no turning back. and she appreciates that. but she’s also never seen trust like that towards her before. or perhaps she just hasn’t seen it in a long time. “you see your own mistakes,” she states to him, “that’s good.” she nods with a smile. “but you look tired. very tired.”

bruce shrugs and looks away again. “sleep doesn’t come easy to me.” he admits and downs the remainder of his drink in one gulp. that worries her, too. looks like he’s no stranger to a glass of alcohol. this guy is damaged, like really damaged. more than she would have thought.

she moves closer to him and her hand reaches out to his tar-black hair, softly, gently pushing it away from the cut in his temple, away from his sadness- and years of trauma-ridden face. bruce gives her a cautious, vulnerable glance, and she gives him a light smile. her fingers caress the hair strands closest to her, and bruce finds it a soothing act. if at first instinct he was ready to swat her hand away, that instinct is gone now, and he welcomes her touches.

he’s become tired of denying himself good things and feelings. he’s found himself avoiding anything pleasant and healthy lately, maybe ever since his intoxication period ended, and it’s caught up to him. no wonder it’s hard to trust someone, no wonder it’s hard for him to accept gestures of kindness. hers come from a good, well-wishing heart. he sees that. and he chooses to trust her.

and if so, he’s going all in. he surprises himself with how much he reveals to her, how much he talks to her. even more than he does to alfred. and he lets himself be curious about her, too. after all, they know nothing about each other. they don’t even know each other’s names, and it is so exciting. they are, to each other, a whole new world to discover. so many questions to ask, assumptions to make, emotions to coach out of each other. it truly is exciting, even if it may sound childish.

“what gets you drunk?” he asks her in a whisper as her hand still wonders about his nest of black hair. she casts him a glance, and their eyes connect. he’s really going all in. she gives him a shrug in response.

“i don’t know,” she says honestly, “adrenaline, i guess. i’ve only tried alcohol and the drugs that work on a regular person before, and they’ve done nothing at all. dunno, maybe there’s some drug that works on enhanced persons, as well.” y/n makes a light chuckle again. her fingers halt their movements about his hair and she rests both her hands on his closer shoulder. she looks dreamily into his eyes, almost seeing him as a specimen. he is, quite frankly, in her eyes, at least. “it’s not something i really focus on.” she admits to him.

bruce appreciates how close she is to him, and how close they’re getting on this night alone. he hasn’t had anything like that in his life before. a woman, someone he trusts, someone that’s saved his life, someone who is so intimately kind without asking for anything in return. someone so close to him without knowing much about him.

“thank you for everything,” batman says to her suddenly, disrupting their moment of silence. y/n closes her eyes and leans her head more against the sofa’s backrest, “you’re really… kind to me.” he says, and for a second there, she catches his voice breaking. voice breaking? did he really do that? she wasn’t wrong when she thought he was a fragile man.

her hand reaches out to his hair again, and her fingers gently coax through the strands, which makes bruce look at her again. so much fragility in just two little, dark blue orbs. “you’re welcome,” she tells him.

“i’ll take you up on that offer,” bruce tells her then, the sureness in himself making his voice tremble slightly. y/n furrows her eyebrows.

“which one?” she asks. did she forget?

“working as a team,” bruce answers and searches her eyes for recognition. it’s there, and she nods at him, understanding what he says and appreciating the agreement. “sorry that i… doubted you before.”

y/n shakes her head lightly. “it’s… no matter. not the first time i’ve been underestimated,” she assures, “thank you.” her eyes look into his finally. “i know we don’t take on the same people, though, so… we’ll probably have to set some ground rules.” she says with a light chuckle.

“what do you mean?” he makes sure.

“well, i’ve never gone after mafia or drug-dealers gangs like you,” she places her empty glass on the coffee table and sighs quietly, bracing herself for what she’s about to tell him. she’s never uttered the words out loud before, never had to explain herself to anyone, really, before, “i use my hearing… to find women in dangerous situations.” she tells him, now sitting a bit further from him with her legs crossed. bruce is intrigued. “and children, as well. i protect those who cannot protect themselves.” she looks up from her hands to his eyes. “we both know what men are like, and not just here.”

bruce nods. there must be a reason for this particular… audience she saves. he wants to ask, but he chooses not to. that would be prying, and perhaps the reason is much more personal for a first conversation between the two. he knows enough about her, and perhaps time will come and she’ll tell him. that and everything else he’s curious about.

and the latter part of her sentence motions towards her not being from gotham originally. not just here. where is she from, then? she already seems like someone from a completely different world than bruce and the rest of gotham that he knows. yet there’s a shared taste for justice and helping the little people. bruce realizes they must both have seen some things they’d rather not talk about. it’s evident in her eyes just now, as she spoke about what she does exactly.

he nods again, “you were pretty good against those guys,” he tells her with the attempt of a smile on his lips. his eyes look sincerely into hers. she smiles back, a blush heating up her cheeks, and nods, “if it weren’t for his other gun.” bruce adds, and that makes the woman laugh. that sound is so intoxicating he can’t help but laugh subtly with her. that’s a first. “i guess you have to work on making them lose consciousness sooner, and then clear them of their weapons.” he suggests. “what are you gonna do with the guns, anyway?”

y/n pulls out the two guns on her holster and holds them both up in one hand. “oh, you mean these?” she asks with a raised eyebrow and a grin. bruce nods, that grin stretching his features, too. “i keep them. wouldn’t wanna give them to the police, because, one way or another, they’d end up in the market , anyway. the less guns there are on the streets, the better.”

bruce grins wider, her idea quite impressive to him. “but you fight without them, right?” he asks, and she nods her head. “you and me both. i use other types of weapons. i develop all kinds of tech in my free time, like recording eye lenses, tasers, hooks—anything, really.” y/n nods along, quite captivated by him. “i can make copies for you, if you’re interested, but something tells me you’ve already got a good enough skill set.”

y/n smiles and feels sappy at the fact that this man went from what could itsy-bitsy spider help me with, exactly? to full on complimenting her and her powers. she nods. “what are the recording lenses?” she asks, curious.

“they record everything i see, and identifies people in my way, shows me their name, profession, recorded crimes or law-breaks,” bruce explains, “they have a recording option and a live-streaming option. i usually watch everything back to back in my… in my lab,” he scratches the back of his head out of slight nervousness. lab is a great name for his tech- and bat-filled man-cave, “especially when i’ve been to crime scenes or drug-dealing hot-spots. though i rarely get inside those.” he admits.

y/n chuckles. “i’d like to use those some time, if i can,” she tells him, and bruce nods. she can see how much more he loves talking about his creations and night shifts than he likes to talk about himself and his troubles. this vigilante lifestyle must mean a lot to him, “you gotta have a lot of money for all those things, though. you a millionaire or something?” she asks jokingly.

bruce tries not to give anything away, but the look in his eyes betrays him. vulnerability. exposure. right guess. truth. “far from it,” he says then, “job just pays well.” he offers her a half-smile. she’s not sure that was entirely the truth that he just told her. but she doesn’t linger on it. she has things she’d rather not say about herself, too, and obviously, so does he. it’s understandable, and she won’t push him to talk.

she nods. “i wish mine did,” she says, “could make my suit more comfortable.” y/n sighs, and gives batman another look. a smile appears on her face. “i have no idea what ground rules to make. to not kill anyone is my only rule.” she admits.

“mine, too,” batman responds, and their eyes connect in a sacred look. she gives him another one of those timid smiles and head turns and leans with her side against the pillows again. what an intimate moment between the two of them—discovering something else they share. it holds quite a lot of worth to both of them, “guess that’s the only rule we have to establish.”

“maybe let the other know where we’re going, if we have to leave an… interaction, let’s say,” y/n suggests, “do you make communication ear pieces, too, maybe? i have… used those here and there before.” she says, gulping back the somber memories of her world. batman nods.

“i’ll give you a pair the night after tomorrow, if you’re ready by then?” he inquires with slightly raised eyebrows in the hope that he isn’t being too-straight forward. y/n nods, to his relief.

“i don’t think you and your injuries will be quite ready by then,” she admits, looking over his patches and gauze-wrapped spots, “and you have to get some sleep beforehand, too. whoever it is we’ll be up against, i don’t know if i’ll be able to save you a second time.”

bruce grins at that. witty. “i’ll try, thank you,” he says. he likes that in the way she cares about him—if she does. he doesn’t want to assume, but he feels that she does care about him—she’s very different from the way alfred cares about him. sure, they might be similar in what they request from bruce, but they’re very different in a sense he can’t quite describe.

“you can spend the night here, if you want,” she offers him, glancing at the slowly, but steadily rising sun in the dark gotham night. she knows her offer might be pretty straight-forward, but she also doesn’t mean anything more by it. he should rest, not go anywhere and spend the night here. let his injuries heal.

one thing y/n will never get quite used to is how dark the city is. even during day time. darker than new york was, for sure, and she doesn’t understand how that can be. this must be some weird parallel universe.

bruce appreciates the offer, and wants to stay. but he knows he can’t. so he shakes his head in response with pursed lips and looks at the empty glass in his hand. “thank you, but i can’t,” he says and gives her no further answer. next y/n watches as he puts his suit pieces back together, and now he’s dressed completely again. he’s batman again. bruce grunts as he stands up on his feet, the effort taking a toll on his injuries for the few seconds, and they all pulse afterwards as he puts the empty glass on the coffee table. he turns to y/n.

she sits on her sofa still, abandoned by him and the sacred moments they just shared together. her legs crossed in front of herself, her side leaning into the sofa. her hair cascading down on her shoulders, framing her face without a gram of effort from her. the curious, careful eyes that she follows him with nearly shining in the dark. her suit fits her well, the colors accent her skin tone and eyes very well, bring them out in the best of ways. he’s sure the look, smell and feeling of her will not leave his head for an unknown length of time now.

he doesn’t want to leave her, doesn’t want to utter those words of good-bye. but this is a hopeful parting. one that will bring many more meetings—hopefully just like this one—after it. but hopeful isn’t a thing or characteristic that bruce is familiar with. “i’ll see you the night after next,” he tells her, “do you know the narrows?” he asks her. and y/n nods. “meet you on the train platform in the outskirts, then. eleven.”

y/n nods at him with a smile. “you sure will,” she promises, and a somber silence settles between them. bruce doesn’t really want to move away. but he can’t exactly stay standing there awkwardly as he looks at her (although he’d love nothing more), “take care, batman.” she tells him with a parting-words tone of voice and bruce nods again.

she can still feel the swelling of her heart from his leave, even two days after he did. how he opened and closed the window without a sound, got out of it with ease, and disappeared. probably down the fire escape. a jump from the eleventh story wouldn’t be survivable, especially for a man with his wounds. then the only proof that he was ever there was the empty whiskey glass on her coffee table. and the blood-and-dirt-soaked tissues and cloths right next to her first-aid bag.

y/n looked longingly at the empty glass, his gloved fingertips leaving no traces on it, only his musky lips that left whiskey prints around the edges giving away that it was him drinking it as he sat there on her sofa. she breathed a deep sigh and got up from her sofa, leaving their conversation and moments of great intimacy behind, to stay where they were born, and she headed for her bedroom instead.

her two days and a night without getting out in the streets and fighting petty crime seemed like the most boring days she’d had in her life. minutes and hours stretching out longer than usual, her everyday tasks at home and work suddenly seemed boring, too. and all that because she was anticipating a night of crime-fighting with the batman. she was surprising herself with her strange mood, too.

she had to let the cut in her thigh heal, as well, so it’s not as if she was waiting in vain. she just hoped he was taking care of himself like she was, getting rest and not doing anything hefty. certainly not fighting criminals on his own, behind her back. that would feel strange to her, and would make her think she or their deal meant much to him.

but bruce can vouch that that isn’t true. having such a skilled, agile and witty partner-in-crime-fighting was the greatest gift he’d received in a while. and the woman behind that mask truly hadn’t left his mind since that night. his two days of rest and getting enough sleep—alfred was both glad and concerned about it—seemed boring at best. he kept going over that recording of her from that night, kept replaying her words until he fell asleep or found peace in his own mind.

he knows that not telling her he was recording was wrong. but he didn’t want her to feel weirded out. although, she would be weirded out, anyway, if she found him now looking and listening to that recording over and over in his cave. the thing is, he’d forgot he was recording until he got home. there, as he tried to fall asleep, he realized something was itching at his eyes. the lenses.

and so he took them out that night, put them in a small case and kept them on his nightstand for when he’d wake up. and he couldn’t lie—that was one of the best-slept nights in his life since he was eight years old. his slumber was thick and long, unbothered by the outside world, no matter how many noises there echoed around the manor, no matter how loud they were. bruce just slept like a log until his body felt it had had enough of sleeping.

when the time of night had finally come, y/n had locked up at work and went home to change into her suit. she couldn’t stop her thoughts spiraling towards batman as she zipped every zipper and secured every detail of her suit intact. his way of fighting, the rasp and years of sadness in his voice, his soft eyes darkened by the black pomade and cowl he wears. she also wonders whether he puts the black color around his eyes himself, and she also wonders what brand of eyeshadow he uses. if that is eyeshadow, of course. it could be eyeliner, lipstick or motor-oil, for all she knows.

she also couldn’t hide the excited butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him. she didn’t like it much, and surprised herself by having them, but she couldn’t get rid of them. he was in her thoughts, in her mind, twenty-four-seven. it was weird, and she decided to try and ignore them would be the best option right now. she’d deal with them later.

swinging over gotham streets busy with cars and pedestrians, y/n can’t help but think of new york. how much she misses it. how much more like home than gotham it was to her. it was also a lot friendlier of a city than gotham, and she guesses that’s what she misses the most. the people. the atmosphere. she could deem gotham as a darker, meaner new york, if that makes sense.

but her thoughts leave new york completely when she spots the dark silhouette of batman on the train station one web-slinging distance away. she grins then, and aims to land right next to him. when she does, he turns to her from his position of watching the street and buildings below and across from them. bruce makes the ghost of a smile on his lips at her presence.

she looks up at him, noticing his staring at her, and she greets him with: “hey”. spoken in a soft, friendly voice. bruce nods at her and then turns back to the view. she wonders what this small amount of talking must mean in his behavior. has he suffered some trauma as a child that makes him talk less than he’s ought to or is he just… like that?

“here,” he holds up his palm with small objects in it to divert her attention. he’s much more straight to business tonight, y/n realizes, “will you need help with the lenses?” he asks, turning his head to her again. just his head, just to glance at her.

“never used them before, but i think i’ll manage,” she admits and takes the small objects into her palm. two lenses with a pattern of circles and wires on them, and an earpiece. one that is strikingly similar to the one stark made for her and the other avengers. only this one’s much smaller, and it’s black, “what’s it like out there tonight?” she inquires as she zips her mask open.

“quiet for a wednesday,” bruce answers, “but we shouldn’t use that as a good sign.” he looks back to her again. she’s tilted her head back and is adjusting the first lense into her right eye. she seems to do it quickly without any struggle. when the second lense is in, bruce steps closer to her, leaning his head down towards her.

“let me see,” he requests and y/n obeys, tilting her head back up and looking into his darkened eyes. she blinks a couple times, and no doubt there are tears in her eyes from the foreign objects. bruce inspects her closely, “move the right one more to the left, otherwise it’ll really bother your vision.” he suggests, and y/n does as he says again, moving the lense slowly to the side.

“ah, that makes sense,” she says and blinks her eyes a couple more times for good measure, “whoo, they feel kinda weird,” she admits. bruce smiles at her amusing behavior and pulls slightly back, respecting her space again. now she sticks the earpiece into her right ear and quickly adjusts it. she really has used one before, it shows in her movements and quick adjustion to the object in her ear.

“where did you say you used them before?” he inquires. has she been a spy before? maybe some secret agent? a police officer? neither of those names seem right or fitting to her. y/n gives him a certain glance, a fearful one.

should she tell him she was brought into gotham from another universe through some multi-versal portal a magic man makes? or should she lie about it, make something up? maybe she shouldn’t answer his question at all, follow his example. she wonders if the anxiety of not answering most questions haunts him afterwards.

she looks away and pulls her mask on again, her hair somehow vacuuming inside of it all at once, as if she’d pushed a magic button. “i was once… part of a team,” she starts to say, “quite a big one. saved the world together multiple times, but… we fell to pieces eventually.” batman searches her eyes for anything else that might tell him something about her, but he finds only hiding, hurt and truth in her eyes. nothing more. he didn’t mean to pry, “um, what are we—what are we doing tonight?” she guesses it must be her elevated feelings that have made her suddenly so much so emotional that she’s almost brought to tears. they do gather in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. and she doesn’t let batman see them, either. he shouldn’t. she doesn’t want him to.

batman takes her cue in question form to focus on their mission tonight. “there’s an illegal brothel right down that street,” he informs her, pointing out in the far distance, “we’re gonna use your hearing to find any urgent situations in it, and then we’re gonna make a point to the owners. they are at work tonight.” he says.

an illegal brothel. “must be one of many in gotham,” y/n says.

“it is,” batman confirms, “it’s also one of the worst ones. you’re gonna pretty much see it with your own eyes.” he says with a heavy air. y/n huffs, bracing herself for what she's about to see. she hopes her traumatic memories won't resurface at the wrong moment. 

“alright,” she says, “what do i call you?” she looks up at the bat again after her eyes were so busy focusing on the brothel up ahead. 

“bat will be fine,” he tells her with a slight smile, “and what do i call you?”

y/n grins. “spider will be fine,” she says, “i used to be called spider-woman.” she says, encompassing another hint towards her past life, a life she lived somewhere else, again. 

“suits you well,” batman says, “you ready to go?” he adjusts something in the back of his suit as he looks over her shoulder at her and asks her the question.

y/n takes a few steps behind her to put as much distance between her and the edge of the platform, to give herself a good, successful jump across the street and into the narrows. she has never really been there before, only on the very outskirts of it, but she’s certainly heard a lot of things about the place. none of them good. “yeah,” she says as she braces herself, “you’re gonna jump, too?” she asks, confused about his ready-to-jump stance.

batman grins. “no,” he tells her and jumps off the building with no prior warning. she keeps herself from screaming out in shock, but quickly gets her wits together and follows his lead. as she runs towards the edge and shoots a string of webs out across the street, she sees a big, actual bat silhouette emerge from below, and she laughs in delight. he can fly. she swings after him into gotham’s dirtiest neighbourhood with a grin on her face.

and so it begins.

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[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 10

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

author’s note: hello. sorry for the delay. there's been so much to do and so much going lately that i can hardly concentrate on anything at all, including, unfortunately, writing. so sorry! doing my best :))))) hehehehehhhehe. anywhos, new chapter! who's excited? me asf. batman also comes out in HD next week, so i'm pretty excited about that, too. i saw it 3x in the theatres, and it was suchhhh an experience, truly a unique one. so happy reading my babies !

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part nine

word count: 6.4k

warnings: a little nsfw (fingers in mouth, fingering but not really?); nothing else

gif credit goes to owner / creator!

with her hand in his, bruce leads y/n away from the desk where her suits are laid out, and he leads her around the row of desks to reach the covered vehicle he so wants to show her. alfred’s only seen a glimpse of it while bruce was working on it, and he solicited the part orders, but he hasn’t seen more. bruce also hasn’t let him, he makes sure alfred is really busy while he continues to work on his new project, so he wouldn’t show up and surprise bruce. it’s sort of something bruce wants to show alfred when it’s done. to see what he thinks.

bruce takes his hand out of y/n’s hold—but doesn’t do so without laying a kiss on her palm first—and leaves her by the vehicle’s side while he goes to uncover it. the project is in its finishing stages for now, bruce has yet to take it on a test ride, he somehow hopes for a special occasion to do that, only he doesn’t know what that would count as.

he takes the silky black cover by its corner and whooshes it off the vehicle in one go, he thankfully succeeds. y/n’s eyes don’t know exactly what to look at. the object confuses her at first, she can’t tell what is what, but then she starts to recognise bumps and edges, and the image becomes clearer. it’s some kind of car, only… jacked up on steroids. it is black in its entirety, and sleek, and very much intimidating because of its size.

she looks to bruce with bright eyes and a kind of awkward smile, and he gives her one in return as he waits for a further reaction. but y/n doesn’t really know what to say, she turns her stare back to the sort-of car. huge wheels, a low front, and a spacious interior, it seems. she walks over to it, runs a hand across the sleek material on the front hood and nearly shudders. it’s cold, but incredible to the touch. she takes her hand away and tucks both her palms into the sleeves of her hoodie, feeling a little cold all over now.

she crosses her arms over her chest as she walks beside the car, looking at its details, coming up to bruce step by step. “did you make this yourself?” she asks once she’s finally close to him again. bruce looks from her to the car and nods. y/n shakes her head. “one hell of a job.”

bruce grins as his hand skims over the door handle nearest to him. “taken me more than a year,” he says, “can’t risk having someone else to do anything on it for me, because, well…” bruce looks into her eyes again, “you know.” he gently moves his eyebrows in an emphasising way. y/n chuckles and nods. “wanna show you the interior, as well,” bruce says and opens the door. the door only makes a faint click that sounds as sleek as the car looks, and y/n is again impressed. she doesn’t hide it—her raised eyebrows and slight grin of amusement—as she gets into the car, and bruce’s lips stretch into a grin of their own at her adorable reaction. as soon as he shuts her door, he makes his way around the car to get in on the other side.

y/n glimpses at bruce while he does, but her attention is honestly more occupied by the car’s interior. two screens on the middle console, where usually a radio would be. some switch panel next to the screens, where the small stashing cabinet resides in a usual car. but as she traces her hand under the switch panel, she feels a rectangular form in a different material than the rest of the panel, and she presses it so it opens.

nails, wires, screwdrivers and multiple other little things alike pour of out of the hide-away, and the clutter they make startles y/n just as bruce gets in the car from his side. he furrows his eyebrows at the mishap when he sits down, and y/n sighs. “sorry,” she says and starts picking everything up to put it back in place, “i’m just curious.” she comes up with some sort of excuse. bruce nods and helps her pick up the pieces, since the console of the car is pretty close to him, and there’s a lot of room for legs on both sides. y/n thanks him quietly, and he just gives her a timid smile.

once the things are back in their hide-away, and y/n closes the cabinet, she turns half-way in her seat to check out the rest of the car. also to make herself busy with something as she now feels a little awkward at having spilled all that, and in front of bruce. this is his car, his property, his working ground, and she’s too much of a curious cat to keep her hands to herself. what a clutz, she thinks.

she notices how spacious the interior still looks from the inside, but how there’s nothing in the backseat quite yet. only tools and other car pieces she assumes are still left to be attached, put in place. she looks above her, sees the ceiling with quite the big window in the middle of it. big enough to fit bruce through when he’s in the batman attire, she realises. she looks back at him, and bruce can see the dots connecting in her eyes. she knows what it’s for, and he doesn’t even have to tell her.

y/n sits fully in her seat again, rests her side against the back support and bends one of her legs to cross it over the other. her hands in her lap as she looks to bruce. he’s sitting in his driver’s seat like a regular person, but his head and shoulders are turned to face her. their eyes connect again. the pleasant, positive tension between them is palpable. one word could make it thicker or make it dissipate. it’s up to them, but they feel the tension, too. like electricity in the air of the car.

“any plans for the backseat?” y/n asks. bruce grips the edge of the chair with his hand gently and peers over it to look at the unfinished part of his vehicle. he shrugs.

“i honestly don’t know if i’ll need it,” he says to her and returns to sitting normally. she notices how casual he’s become with her, she’s not noticed it until now though he’s probably shown that bare truth and casual behaviour a day or two prior already. he’s stripped himself of the brooding, mysterious image in front of her completely now. she can only be thankful that he’s done that. she doesn’t want a masked vigilante with her, she just wants him. the vigilante thing is a part of him, but it’s not the main part. now y/n shrugs.

“you could have casualties that you need to take to the hospital or the police station,” she points out, “you never know what situation you might end up in.” she grins very lightly at him. bruce loves the little gestures from her, he finds them quite adorable. he nods.

“that’s true,” he says, “might just put three or four chairs in there for that. maybe some emergency box or something…” bruce says, and it makes y/n chuckle. he’s wonderful when he’s thoughtful. quite the contrast to his usual behaviour.

she reaches a hand over to his side of the car, where she lays it atop his palm that rests on the console between them. bruce looks at the hand, then looks at her. her eyes are unreadable, and yet mischievous as a fox’s. “or you might need to take me home,” she suggests timidly, in a quieter, smaller voice, “maybe some place else.” she bats her eyes at bruce as she leans her head onto the headrest, her hand staying on top of his. he blinks a few times and tilts his head at her. bruce wonders what she means, perhaps she’s saying something more to him than these few words.

“where do you want me to take you?” he asks, and realises his voice has dropped lower in volume. y/n faintly smiles at his question, at the possible obliviousness it encompasses. she caresses the skin of his hand with her thumb as she keeps giving him languid eyes. he has no idea what she means, doesn’t he?

she lets their eye contact last just a little longer and then moves in for what’s hers for the taking—bruce. she carefully slips her leg over the console, only wincing a slight bit when her injury very quietly protests at the movement. bruce notices that change in her facial expression, and his hand immediately reaches out for the part of her body closest to him—y/n’s thigh. it makes her think he finally realised what she meant with her words, but he really is still oblivious to her ministrations, and that reaching out to her is for support.

but she’s not in pain. not really, not anymore, as she now brings her other leg over the console, too, and splays them across bruce’s lap, one leg on each of his sides. bruce just watches her silently, that supporting hand still treading carefully across her thigh, having an instinct of what to do but not knowing if he should do what it tells him to.

y/n feels a little out of her own depth now, but she won’t shy away anymore. not this time. when she’s so close to him, and he’s letting her be. it’s a sacred moment, a sacred opportunity. she won’t let it pass. there’s complete silence in the car as y/n leans her torso down closer to bruce’s, the quiet background noise of the bats squealing and flapping their wings on the cave’s ceiling is practically inaudible now. bruce must have installed some kind of sound-blocking mechanism into the vehicle’s doors and windows, and perhaps he did that on purpose.

bruce looks up at her—what a strange position he’s found himself in, and y/n could say the same – she never thought she could get on top of him and actually be on top of him, looking down at him, taking that he’s so much taller than her—with eyes that are both fearful and ready, eyes wanting something so much yet being afraid of it all the same. he can’t stand his own contradictory behaviour. but he really is up for anything y/n might be offering.

that feeling of readiness only grows in size when y/n kisses his lips, pulling him closer with her palms on both his cheeks. without filter—not that he needs one around her—bruce moans at the immediate and sensual contact with her that he so appreciates. his hands instantly grab onto her, that first one staying on her thigh, now, encouraged, moving to the back of it and spreading his fingers across her covered skin there.

to make a man of his size, of his greatness and power, moan in such a yearning and intimate way has truly got to be one of y/n’s proudest moments. she wouldn’t call it pride exactly, but something towards it. and it being bruce, someone she admires and appreciates so much, someone so close to her, makes that little thing all the more special. her fingers all but press into his skin, nearly creating a stretch there, and she moves her other hand down to his hair, trudging into the silk forest of it.

god, she loves his hair. raking her nails across his scalp, she earns the most raw and guttural sounds from bruce. and that only proves that he loves her hands in his hair, as well. he adores them there. scratching and pressing at his skin in the best ways imaginable. the movements of her hand in his hair only makes his own hands grapple onto her tighter, and as the kisses they share grow hotter and more lustful with each second, their pent-up frustrations towards themselves and each other pouring out into them all the while, neither of them can contain the moans and whines—more from bruce than y/n—that all of this coaxes out of them. they let their natural sounds out without any control or shame.

bruce doesn’t know how to be, who to be, how to behave, when she’s like this in his arms, just as needy as he is. he has instincts, and yet he doesn’t know what to do with his hands—what feels good for her? should he kiss her neck? should he grab her ass like in all those videos? no. that’s an immediate no in answer to the last question that pops into his mind, and he doesn’t even know why he feels so sure that she wouldn’t like that. he just somehow knows, and so he doesn’t move a muscle further to even initiate that kind of contact.

y/n feels how partly clueless he is, she feels how rigid and nervous his hands are, although they are squeezing her skin in a delightful way. she smiles faintly to herself, bruce feels that gesture against his lips, and she rests her hand around one of his wrists, the one that wraps around her waist. bruce looks into her eyes, pulling away from her lips, feeling that perhaps he’s done something wrong. something to upset her, crossed a line. but there’s no sign for such a thing in her beautiful, clouded eyes. “do you want to touch me?” she asks in the lowest of whispers. one of her hands is still resting against bruce’s cheek, and dare he say, it’s distracting him very much. her eyes are, as well, and he barely hears her question at all.

with a bit of a mental struggle, bruce comes to and his eyes blink a couple times in an almost clueless manner as he does so. he suspects her thumb moving across his cheek, near his lips, is on purpose. unable to form words in response, and also feeling too shy to speak, bruce just nods his head. y/n finds it typical to his behaviour, and she doesn’t mind at all. it’s always endearing to her that she does the most talking and he just listens, agrees and grumbles a word here and there. she guesses it doesn’t really fade in intimate moments like this. and she wouldn’t wish it to.

“i want you to touch me, too,” she says, taking her hand off his, and slowly, as not to make a sound that could ruin the moment, she unzips the gorgeous trousers that he got for her, also partly revealing the underwear that he also got for her. bruce gulps as his gaze slips downwards to where her hand lingers, and the partly-revealing sight nearly drives him insane. his impulses are strong and hungry, but he keeps them down. he doesn’t want to cross any lines with her.

without any questions asked or words spoken—she knows his body language well enough to tell he’s not uncomfortable, just nervous—y/n takes bruce’s hand away from her waist, slowly brings it back around her body to the front and middle of it. all the while, she keeps that other hand of hers still on his cheek, caressing his coarse, experienced skin with her thumb as a way to soothe him, if he needs it. he’s as much inexperienced as she is, she can sort-of tell, and so she knows this is a first for him, too. she knows what she likes, though, so she knows how to guide him.

here and there, she feels his hold on the back of her thigh tighten, squeezing her skin, and she lets out a little whimper every time he does because it’s just the right squeeze on her muscles. it makes the sacred place between her legs hotter and even wetter every time, and she guesses that she’s just found something new that her body likes. and her whimpers are doing all the work on bruce, as well. he doesn’t know how long his self-control will last. even around her.

y/n’s fingers around his wrist, she guides his hand past the borders of her pants, where the pads of his fingers come into contact with her clothed cunt. she’s so sensitive that this mere first contact makes her shudder and utter a faint whimper, and her eyes drop closed. she nearly collapses onto bruce, but her body draws the line at her head only resting on his shoulder. because of this response from her, bruce feels confident enough. he’s made her smile, he’s made her laugh, he’s made her cry and he’s made her feel this euphoric—is there anything he can’t do now?

he doesn’t need her guidance by hand anymore, bruce feels confident with his instincts, and he can always ask her to check in, to see what she likes and doesn’t. pressing his middle and ring finger into her underwear, he feels a sticky wetness on the fabric that now coats his fingers, as well. he breathes a heavy breath against her neck, and his eyes drop closed, too, just for a moment. she’s heavenly. there are many ways he has imagined her already—still ashamed to admit that even to himself—but this outdoes them all. “fuck,” bruce manages to utter, being at quite the loss for words because of how incredible she feels. he can’t get over her. so he treads on fragile ground by dipping his fingers deeper into her underwear, so that he could really feel the expanse of her—even when clothed—really on his fingers.

and my god, is that even more incredible. he’s pressed his fingers right in between her labial lips, he can feel all her gentle edges and folds on his pads, and it almost sends him into over-drive. forget oral and penetrative sex, he could spend the rest of forever just tracing over every inch of her most intimate parts, over and over, much like she does with the scars on his back. only when he does this, he body is oh-so-responsive. shuddering in his hold, grinding on his thighs closer to him, uttering whimpers and moans into the skin of his neck, gripping his shoulders every once in a while. he loves it all. he could spend forever in it. this moment, this feeling, with her in his hold.

bruce is discovering her, the feel of her, the different spots and buttons he can push in her. much like she’s discovering how it feels to be touched like this by someone else. she’s never had that before, and though he swipes across her clothed folds and flicks his fingers quite the right way, she can still tell that he’s nervous about it all. which means he’s never done this before, either. not even this with a woman. she wonders how that is true, she wonders how that makes him feel. but she’s also kind of appreciative that she’s the first one to get him like this, to get him to do all this. she’s the first one he’s experiencing this with, too. it’s something so special for the both of them.

he’s not even fully touching her, and yet with how wet her underwear is, it’s nearly the real thing, and she’s slowly coming undone for him. no words uttered, only moans and whimpers from both of them, bruce reaches his free hand that was grappling her thigh just now—much to y/n’s dismay, though, she whimpers at the loss of that touch—, up to her face, and he cradles the side of it in his large, supportive palm. it makes her look at him, precisely his goal in making that movement, and she does so with hooded eyes, barely supporting herself up before him. bruce presses his fingers closer to where her entrance resides beneath that drenched fabric of her panties, and it sends her into a spiral.

y/n’s face nearly melts into an erotic expression, her eyes closing shut, eyebrows drawing together, cheeks blushing redder and her lips hanging open. her lips. her whole face is breath-taking when she’s experiencing pleasure, and it means the world to bruce that he can coax this wonderful feeling out of her, plant into her wonderful feelings and experiences, and he discovers that he loves seeing her like this. completely true, just and raw. just for him.

but his thoughts get caught in her lips, and suddenly he’s so fascinated by them. his thumb skims across her cheek, and progressively gets closer to her lips until the pad of his thumb has reached the corner of them. in his hue of fascination, bruce watches as he ventures his thumb down the soft pillow of her lower lip, and he glances up into her eyes to see how she takes that. her eyes aren’t the main tale-tell for her reaction, as much as her hips and hands are. but her eyes do overgrow with a thicker cloud of lust after they open again, while her hips experimentally roll down onto his, and her fingers dig deeper into bruce’s shoulders. it’s nearly painful for him, but he likes it nonetheless.

“open up,” he requests her quietly, feeling that she already wants to do it, but perhaps, as she’s got lost in the feeling of it all, she forgot to give her lips that command. y/n listens to him immediately, proving bruce’s theory about that forgetting, as if she just remembered how to give her body orders, and bruce slips his thumb inside. he feels her wetness increasing heavily at that contact, and he allows himself a grin, “that’s it, baby, you like that?” he asks her, now feeling more confident than usual, and all because of her.

y/n can only nod and make a mewl in response as her mouth welcomes bruce’s thumb inside it. her mewl resonates from her throat, bruce can feel its vibrations even on her tongue as he presses down onto it. his middle finger penetrates her entrance in the slightest of ways, but it immediately has her thighs trembling, and affecting the rest of her body in wonderful ways. her back arches, making her breasts press against bruce’s chest, and he suddenly realises he’s never felt her this close to himself. chest to chest. god, he adores her.

her silky tongue beneath his thumb, lips sucking around the base of it. her soft skin in both palms of his hands, her wetness coating his fingers like a nectar, her breaths and hair in his face, tickling the skin there, her eyes only looking at him when they’re open, looking hungrily and lustfully, her thighs on his, her breasts against his chest… she’s a vixen at his complete mercy. a complete dream, and he’s not even entirely sure she’s real. that’s how heavenly she is.

bruce can’t wait to get to know every inch of her. feel the expanse of her on his length, taste that sweet nectar dripping from her on his tongue, explore her body and find out what venture gets which sound and body movement out of her, see what makes her fall apart, how long each thing he wants to try out takes with her. he wants to know her to the very depths, until there’s nothing left to know, and he can do it all over again, make it as good as the first time.

y/n has no idea how bruce knows how to touch her, how to feel her up, how to rile her up more and more. only thing she can think of is his intuition, perhaps something he’s borrowed from his great detective skills. he can just read her so well, she almost thinks he knows her better than she knows herself. his fingers at her entrance are pushing in and out teasingly and yet fully enough so that he’s coaxing her towards that wonderful release. and how did he know that a finger in her mouth would do the wonders it does? perhaps he didn’t, and just wanted to try it out. to be fair, she’s ready for anything he wants to try with her. she’s had so many firsts with him already that each new one is just another wonderful addition to the list.

but y/n sobers up from this blissful feeling of bruce immediately when she hears metal gears turning and chains being pulled. she stills so suddenly in his arms that bruce worries again that he’s done something wrong. it’s a far away sound for now, but y/n can tell it’s getting closer—it sounds like someone is using the elevator she and bruce used just a while ago to get here. how she didn’t hear the elevator going up when it was being called, she doesn’t know. but she looks through the matted window of the car’s back to see the elevator. the tube is not full with that cabin yet.

“what’s wrong?” bruce asks, glancing towards where she is momentarily. y/n gathers herself, realises he’s retracted both of his hands from her intimate parts, and is now just resting his palms on her thighs. she runs a hand through her hair.

“someone’s coming,” she tells him in a rush and zips her trousers closed. bruce furrows his eyebrows, and realises he probably needs a tissue for his hands. there has to be one somewhere here… y/n moves off him in a flurry of movement, plopping back down into her passenger seat, while bruce looks around all his little boxes and compartments for just a single tissue. who could be coming here at this—?

bruce shakes his head as he finally finds a tissue in one of the rogue clean-up boxes he barely remembered to leave in this car. “must be alfred,” he says with a grunt of effort as he bends back up from the car’s floor and wipes his fingers clean, as much as he doesn’t want to. he looks at y/n in her seat, facing away from him. she hopes her hair doesn’t give too much away, “why did you move over there?” he asks, though at how sharply she turns her head to look at him, he kind of regrets doing so. his face grows small in anxiety.

“i don’t want your godfather to see me like…” she shakes her head before she can finish that sentence, and turns away from him again. her fingers card through her hair again and again, she feels so nervous, “i don’t know, i’m nervous.” she’s speaking much faster than usually. bruce grows concerned. “i’m nervous, i want to make a good impression and—” she sighs in frustration, and then turns to look at bruce again, “he doesn’t know, does he?”

his eyebrows furrow. “about what?”

“us!” y/n hisses back, almost as if they were in high school and talking about some big secret. “you know, that we’ve… you know!” she’s so puritanical in talking about their shared kisses and what they’ve attempted to do, it’s nearly comical. she was much more blunt just some ten or fifteen minutes ago. bruce gulps.

“no,” he shakily says, “i haven’t told him. should i have told him?” he’s panicked, too, maybe because of her panicky attitude, and can suddenly hear the elevator coming down the long shaft, too. y/n raises her eyebrows and shrugs.

“i don’t know!” she tells him, “do you want to tell him?”

now it’s bruce’s turn to shrug, “i don’t know,” he says honestly, “do you want me to tell him?” he makes sure, really only caring about her through and through.

“yes!” y/n says, but then feels she’s coming off as too straight forward. to bruce, about their relationship, whatever it is. what would he tell alfred, anyway? i’ve kissed the girl whose life i saved in our vigilante team work mishap a couple times, we nearly went to second base. “no?” y/n then throws out in her panic. she shakes her head again and thinks she’s both confusing the man next to her, and making him think she wants to keep this a secret, which she most certainly does not want to do. she throws her hands in the air for a fleeting moment, feeling confused herself. “i don’t know! christ… i’m a mess.” she says finally, her head in her hands.

the opening pull of the elevator doors somewhere behind them startles them both, as they’re in quite the fragile state, and y/n nearly jumps in her seat. bruce can feel her nervousness in the air around her, and he’s scared to reach out to her, though he still does it, worried he might catch that same electricity as is running through her veins. “you’re fine,” he tells her, and finds the gesture weird. has he comforted her before? and yes, he realises he has. how did he forget? perhaps this is just a different setting, “i’ll get out first.” he informs her. “and hey,” he calls on for more of her attention, “look at me.” bruce’s voice is a whisper again. y/n anxiously turns to look at him. he offers her a smile. “you’re great, y/n,” he says, and if it’s not the first time he says her name, then it’s definitely one of the first, “there’s no reason for alfred not to like you. i promise. plus, he already likes you.”

“how do you know?” she asks him. bruce shrugs.

“he’s my godfather,” he simply states, that smile of his turning into a grin. bruce moves a rogue hair strand out of y/n’s face, tucking it behind her ear. she appreciates the gesture, and makes a small smile herself, “you have nothing to worry about, i promise you.” bruce assures her. “i really like you,” christ, he feels nervous and shy as a teenager as he says this, and he wishes the hormones weren’t so strong. but he wants to tell her these things, even if it’s hard to and gets him all flustered, “and you’re amazing. it’ll be fine.” bruce finalises.

y/n manages to make a smile at him in response and she nods her head. she believes him. bruce feels weird at handling such a domestic, everyday-thing like he handles more serious issues. but perhaps domestic things are just as important as vigilante things. and perhaps he needs to put more focus on domestic things. now that y/n is formally meeting alfred, has seen his home and his cave, and is getting closer to him in general. as he’s getting closer to her. he needs to be in touch with his domestic side more, he realises. and so he makes that his resolution for the near future. perhaps this vigilante thing has made him less grounded than he thinks.

“okay,” y/n says as she nods again, and bruce’s smile grows in size. he caresses her hair and leans closer to her just momentarily to give her forehead a kiss. y/n closes her eyes during that fleeting affectionate gesture, and bruce is gone in the next moment. her eyes closed, still in some astral way feeling his lips on her forehead, she hears him get out of the vehicle and close the door behind him. she feels like a little hedgehog that’s drawing into its form in this quite spacious passenger car seat, the reminisce of his kiss on her forehead as vivid as if it had colours. the undertone of what that kiss meant is what truly sticks to her heart, and she’ll appreciate that forever.

she hears quiet words spoken between bruce and alfred, and even a chuckle on alfred’s part, and she sighs. y/n doesn’t know why she’s suddenly so anxious around the man she’s met twice, being in quite exposing states both times already. now she’s dressed, and feeling much more like herself, and it seems her characteristic nervousness returns with that trueness of self, too. she doesn’t like it. it’s not that big of an event to have lunch with alfred. then why does she feel so nervous all of a sudden? she feels like a teenager all over again. of course, the memory, feelings and images of her and bruce’s shenanigans just a few minutes ago are much too vivid in her mind to forget or ignore. she hopes the presence of alfred especially will do erasure.

y/n sighs again and opens the car door, swinging her legs over the seat to get out. it’s not that she wants to forget or ignore what they began to do. it’s just quite bothering and informal to be thinking about those things while she’s with both bruce and alfred. she really does feel like a teenager, and it’s bothering her quite a bit. she’s an adult, and should be first and foremost, be able to control those thoughts and impulses and second, should not be feeling nervous about having them if they’re there. it’s so complicated…

with a small, shy smile on her face, y/n keeps the hair strands tucked behind her ear by bruce in place and walks around the vehicle of incredible size. their conversation drops in volume and slightly fades as she comes up, and she feels awkward that they do. y/n braces herself and raises her head up once she’s in close enough vicinity of them both. bruce gives her adoring eyes, while alfred has the usual look of warmth across his whole face, but especially visible in his eyes. he gives y/n a smile.

“hello,” y/n says in a quiet voice, feeling awkward still, even with the soothing presence of both these men. they’ve been nothing but kind and welcoming to her, yet she still feels out of place. could it be just their presence? could it be because y/n really likes bruce and wants to make a good impression on alfred? or could it be the financial difference between her and these two men? she can’t guess, and maybe it’s all three.

y/n fumbles with her fingers behind her back, so they wouldn’t see how nervous she is. but bruce sees her hands, nonetheless, he’s that taller than her to see even behind her. he feels for her, his eyes soften as he gives her a glance. “good day, miss y/n,” alfred tells her, nearly bowing before her in that formal movement he makes. she smiles back at him and nods, “finally i see you out and about! an occasion we should celebrate.” alfred says and looks to bruce for agreement, which he gives him with a smile and nod.

bruce wants so to reach out to y/n in this moment, just reassure her in a way that he can. a hand on her shoulder, on her waist, anywhere. but he fears that doing that in front of alfred will just heighten her nervousness, and he doesn’t want to put her on the spot like that. y/n nods at alfred’s words. “thank you,” she says, “never thought i’d get out of that bed, and i’m quite relieved now.” she admits with a chuckle.

“i hope you’re hungry, too, dear,” alfred says cheekily and sends her a wink, to which bruce playfully rolls his eyes and nudges alfred’s arm. the older man just chuckles more in response. y/n still feels out of place, even if out of her and bruce, she’s usually the comedic one. she seems to have suddenly lost that skill or characteristic of hers, and all out of nervousness. she also doesn’t want to admit she’s hungry, because she doesn’t want to be the one whose needs or wants need to be pleased right away. god, everything’s so weird, “you’re not nervous, are you, dear?” alfred suddenly asks, having noticed her silence. he even looks to bruce after y/n’s eyes change a little after that question.

bruce worries for her, since it’s half as hard for her to talk about her feelings as it is for him, and yet she’s always been the more open one. y/n’s lips part as she immediately wants to deny that assumption and lie about her current feelings. but she sees truth and genuineness in alfred’s eyes, and that convinces her to tell her own truth. she nods before saying, “yeah, a bit,” she admits, making a sad smile.

now bruce can’t stay away anymore, his urge to soothe her becomes much too great, and so he gently lays an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, his hand squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. either alfred doesn’t actually notice, or he pretends to not notice that movement and its meaning, so he just shakes his head. “no need to be nervous, dear,” he says, and y/n can say this is the first time a man over forty has called her dear multiple times and she hasn’t felt uncomfortable by it, “from what i hear from bruce, you’re practically family by now, and aren’t a guest anymore.” alfred tells her, and bruce only nods in agreement. that’s what he’d put it, too.

y/n smiles wide, and feels shy again, but she fights the urge to tuck herself into bruce’s side and hide away like a bashful child. she looks up at alfred and nods. “thank you so much,” she says, “that means a lot.”

“oh, you’re welcome,” alfred responds and turns on his heel, “now let’s get your bellies full before you both drop.” he says and begins clicking away towards the elevator with his cane. y/n looks up at bruce, and he looks down at her genuinely, adoringly, that same look still in his eyes. he adores her, and she adores him. there’s nothing quite like sensing that mutual feeling towards each other and knowing it’s true. truly one of the seven wonders of the world, she’s sure.

y/n leans up on her very tip-toes and lays a quiet, quick kiss on bruce’s cheek before they follow alfred across the cave to the elevator. bruce feels his cheeks heating up, and then he feels her hand on his chest, “thank you,” she quietly whispers to him as they begin walking. bruce’s lips stretch into a languid smile. he wants to smother her whole, and even more than that. yet it still wouldn’t be enough to express his adoration towards her.

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