Tumgik
#robert pattinson fanfic
folklorcore · 8 months
Note
how about a little scenario where the reader wrote call it what you want for robert and him reacting to it
call it what you want ─ r. pattinson
Tumblr media
Thank u so much for your request. <3
Pairing: Robert Pattinson x Singer!Fem!Reader
TW/Tags: Established relationship, pure fluff.
Summary: Everyone believes that fame is happiness and perfection, but on the other side of the coin is that at any moment they can destroy you. And that's what happened to you, but during that you met Robert, who you wrote a song for and he reacts to it for the first time.
Words count: 0.83 k.
Robert's Masterlist.
As is known, fame is not always rosy. Much less perfect.
You learned this as soon as a rumor that nearly destroyed your entire reputation caused you to disappear from the public eye for almost half a year.
If it hadn't been for Robert, you honestly wouldn't have pursued that career.
The two first met in person a month after the whole mess went off. When you first started dating, dubious about everything that was going on, you tried to break up with him a couple of times. You didn't think it was good for his career that when both went public with your relationship, they linked him to you.
Most of the discussions were about that. And they always brought you to tears.
So he took you by the cheeks, caressed them gently and looked directly into your eyes.
"Listen to me, if I'm with you knowing everything that happened it's because I really love you for the great person that you are. I know that the y/n they talk about out there is not my y/n. I'm here to stay, honey ."
And that's when you started planning your comeback, preparing your next studio album.
In which there was a song, or more, for Robert.
"All the liars are calling me one,
nobody's heard from me for months,
I'm doing better than I ever was."
You started humming while writing the lyrics.
As the days passed you had more than half the song done.
Everything was inspired by the situation you were going through, how you went from feeling so low but Robert helped get you out of the hole you were in when everyone turned their backs on you.
There was one time where they almost saw you on the streets of Hollywood when you and he went to buy breakfast, only you stayed inside the black armored van and they only got photos of the actor. But they were photos of him smiling at the van as he got into it.
Magazine articles and Internet pages began to speculate about Robert's new conquest, but they never imagined that it would be you.
"'Cause my baby's fit like a daydream,
walking with his head down,
I'm the one he's walking to."
You recorded little clips of moments with him for a possible video for the song.
Moments when it was you and him in a cabin you had in Canada. You spent much of the time there.
You playing the guitar by the fireplace with him in front of you while recording the video.
Walks in the woods. You smiling as he took your hand to kiss the back of it. You composing. You looking at the snowy landscape through the window with a cup of hot chocolate in it. Making forts under the covers in the living room.
"Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night."
It was almost completely finished, only the bridge was missing.
As you tried to figure out what you could write on that part, you brought your hand up to your clavicle, playing with the thin chain that hung from your neck with Robert's initial.
And just like in the cartoons, it was like a light bulb went on over your head.
"I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck." you murmured singing, writing everything before the idea left.
And at least a couple of days later the song was completely finished. A week later you went to record it in a studio and a couple of months later the album was completely ready.
That had been three months ago. All your fans received you in a good way along with your new album.
And some time later the rumor that had caused your disappearance was denied.
You started a tour and that was the first night of it. And it would be the first time Robert would hear the song, because you wanted it to be special, when the album came out you didn't let him hear it.
"This song was inspired by a person who stayed with me all the time when I disappeared," the screams of the fans filled the stadium, making you smile. You looked in the audience for your boyfriend, who was already looking at you with happiness shining on his face. "Robert, this is for you."
You started to sing the song, watching at all times Robert's reaction, which did not stop smiling with love.
"So call it what you want, yeah,
call it what you want to."
You finished, your chest heavy with joy and adrenaline, facing the entire audience with a genuine smile.
Backstage you looked for Robert, and when you saw him you ran to him to hug him, so he welcomed you with open arms, hugging you tightly.
"I loved the song."
"Yeah?" You looked at him affectionately and he nodded caressing your cheek.
"Yeah." He tilted his face a little so he could kiss you softly.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN.
107 notes · View notes
navstuffs · 2 years
Text
Robert Pattinson
ONE-SHOTS:
Temporary Annoyance (Female!Reader)
Robert gets jealous after sensing your chemistry in an interview with Chris Evans.
"Let's go, Vengeance." (Female!Reader)
You are Robert Pattinson's proud girlfriend during the Premiere of The Batman.
Protective (Female!Reader)
Robert will always protect (Y/N) when she needs him the most.
Clueless (Female!Reader)
A clueless barista and his even more clueless crush.
Astraphobia (Female!Reader)
Robert comforts (Y/N) during a heavy storm at night.
Safe Harbor (Female!Reader)
When a reporter snoozes too much on (Y/N)’s personal life, Robert is there to cut her off.
Let me be yours (Female!Reader)
Zoe and Robert have gotten surprisingly close during Batman’s shooting. (Y/N) is worried she might lose him.
Tension
You finally get hired to a big production. You are worried your chemistry with your co-star Robert Pattinson might ruin it all.
Fight for him
When Prince Robert scares away all his suitors, King Victor decides to make a tournament to decide who will marry his son.
Falling for you (Female!Reader)
(Y/N) surprises Robert during her first concert on her new tour.
Imagine finding THIS while dating Robert Pattinson
Lasting love Story (Female!Reader)
Robert's love story with his PR assistant, in this case, you.
The distance that tears us apart (Female!Reader)
When (Y/N) and Robert’s vacation time gets shortened, (Y/N) might just have reached her limit.
Betrayal
You come back earlier from a work trip, excited to surprise your boyfriend. It doesn’t end well.
190 notes · View notes
yeollie-plz · 4 months
Text
Misc. Masterlist
Tumblr media
Main Masterlist
Here is all of my miscellaneous fics in one place!
All gif credits to owners!
Key: Fluff - ☁️ Angst - ☆ Smut - ☾
Tumblr media
Robert Pattinson
Tumblr media
Moodboards:
Devils Roll The Dice, Angels Roll Their Eyes | ☆
Tumblr media
Andrew Garfield
Tumblr media
Stories:
Not Exactly As Planned | 900 words | ☁️☆
Andrew x GN! Reader
Tumblr media
Stu Macher
Tumblr media
We Can't Just Be Friends | 500 words | ☆
Ex! Stu Macher x GN! Reader
Tumblr media
7 notes · View notes
Text
Little Ashes: The Surreal Insanity of Dalí
Dalí the Dandy Villain - in the film little fascist, I mean "Little Ashes."
Tumblr media
Warnings: nudity, fascism, homophobia, cursing, anarchy, politics, war, death (minor) +++Queer Fanfic at the end
Affiliations: revolutionary, change, taboo, disruption,
oppression, repression
art, poetry, politics
Odd, strange, bizarre, different, atypical, queer, avant garde
Tumblr media
("Little Ashes:" Setting: Spain 1922)
Dali's World:
Dali doesn’t maintain a single and continual persona like most healthy people. Dali creates a new personality as he would create a new piece of art. It's too boring to stay the same. A person needs to switch things up every now and then to keep things interesting. Especially for creative geniuses. He is not humble; he knows that he is a genius. Dali is in fact, a self proclaimed monarch. He knows he is a king and will hold himself in high esteem. Dali is highly delusional and egocentric, but that is just how artists are, right? Dali lacks authentic emotion; he is detached from reality and chooses to live in only Dali’s world. His mannerism and gestures are like a baby in a rocking chair. He is both naive and dictatorial. Much of the time Dali seems to be staring off into space, mute, having no personality and then suddenly acting erratic.
In contrast to King Salvador, Federico Garcia Lorca is very polite, according to Luis. In Federico's poem (“The Soul of the West Wind") he writes about butterflies, thrills, and god. Luis thinks his writing is a bit too Andalusian. He thinks Federico is in danger of becoming bourgeois. He says his writing is “bloody good,” it's just the subject of his writing is lacking passion, or as they call it "duende." Duende here meaning, "a passion on the edge of life and death." Luis would prefer if he wrote something more political such as the decapitation of a "putrid priest in Zaragoza."
Tumblr media
(Luis Buñuel and Federico García Lorca)
Luis: “What does Federico Garcia Lorca feel about all these bloody butterflies?” “What makes him angry?” “What turns him on?”
The most magical moment in the film is when Dali makes his first appearance. The audience sees a nervous Dali anxiously awaiting his first day at the art college.
Tumblr media
(Salvador Dalí)
The spectators see an absurd creature stand before them. Lorca feels a fresh wind of change entering his life.
Tumblr media
(Arrival at Art College in Madrid, Spain)
Dali is new and has not yet found out who he is as an artist. Whereas, Lorca is well known at the college and has made strides in his work. Having already been published and gained wider fame even beyond the college. Dali, having already been privy to Lorca’s work, looks up to Lorca and admires this writing.
Tumblr media
(Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí)
Tumblr media
(Federico García Lorca)
Salvador uses Federico as his muse to inspire better paintings. He sees Lorca as the pinnacle of artistic inspiration. Although in truth, Lorca may have lost his duende and seems to have hit a plateau in his creative work. That is where the fresh and intriguing Dali has come in to help. Federico is fascinated by Dali and inflamed, quite literally turned on by his presence. It seems as though Salvador is also lacking a reason to paint as he can’t put his brush to a canvas for the first thirty-eight minutes of the film. When he does have a brush in his hand he looks stressed and frustrated. Much of the time Salvador is shown to be sneaking voyeuristic glances at Federico. This is the spark that the two needed in order to produce work that is inspired and passionate. At first, the dynamic between the two is like a game of cat and mouse. This push and pull could signify the tension it takes to create, before finally giving in and creating a piece of art.
Tumblr media
Salvador was like most any other college student, lost, unsure of himself and begging for attention. The only way to capture the attention of the famous Federico Garcia Lorca was to quietly draw him into his web. He was strategic in his methods. Making himself appear to be in the right place at the right time, not to come off as trying too hard. He wanted Lorca to view him as intellectual and artistic, just as he views Lorca. His methods were adolescent. He placed a canvas that he had already finished painting on the easel. He assumed the pose of an artist, leaving his door wide open as to be seen by anyone who happened to be passing by, and ‘accidentally’ dropping his paint brushes as Luis Bunuel was walking by. However, Luis was on to his game and commented on his “strategically placed copy of Freud.”
Tumblr media
(Luis Buñuel)
Dali is like a spider in how he captures his prey. At first, he was unassuming, as a spider’s web is unassuming. It is only when the prey is caught in the web does it realize how insidious the web becomes when initially it seems inviting and delicately sprung. That is, until the spider encases its prey with the same means that drew it in, and devours it with pleasure.
Tumblr media
(An unassuming Salvador Dalí)
Attention*****Tumblr has limited my use of images. If you want to continue reading with any kind of viewing pleasure, click this link to head to the official blog post on my website. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Or continue reading without visual aid....
Dali joins a group of equally interesting and talented gentlemen and women. Dali is treated like a collected piece of art himself, as he is described as yet another acquisition of Luis Bunuel. The only ones brave enough to consider themselves genius are Dali and Lorca. The group appears to be a sort of rat pack. All sharing the same artistic airs of snobbery and frivolities. The woman called Magdalena claimed to have read eighty books over the holidays, when she had only read ten. This is just one example of the kind of performative intellectualism that goes on among these college students. This is normal behavior for this age group, as well as a common tendency of most artistically inclined people. They appear to believe that if they act as a great artist they may eventually turn into one.
Salvador, Federico, Luis, Magdalena and others
Since I am no history buff, I may not have a grasp on the details of the political nature in Spain in the nineteen-twenties. However, I can feel the spirit of revolution and necessary change that the anarchists propose. This is why I love Luis Bunuel’s commentary throughout the film. He is a no nonsense, honest type. Despite his unfortunate homophobic attitude, his commentary is bang on.
Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí
Bunuel is clearly into politics, and he holds what at that time, seems to be extreme beliefs. He wants the corruption purged from his country, by the most swift of means.
Luis Buñuel and Federico García Lorca
Lorca also shares this strong sense of liberation. Bunuel, being a part the Ultraism underground movement, takes Lorca and Dali to a low profile puppet show. The show highlights their political beliefs in a very humorous manner, but the message is clear. The pope is living in gross wealth by stealing from the people through taxation. While the people are living like peasants do, starving. They simply want freedom in their country. I can’t see why these democratic beliefs wouldn't have a wider appeal among the general populace. They have to go on about their political perspectives while hidden away in a hole in the wall.
We get another unforgettable scene in the film. At twenty-one minutes into the film, the tension is palpable. Lorca seems to have consciously discovered his admiration for Dali. In the scene, he is a little too obviously staring at Dali, yearning for him even. Then within a few micro expressions, he momentarily attempts to hide it, and finally he seems ashamed. Dali is unaware of Lorca’s staring, then he catches on, and is left equally embarrassed.
Little Ashes is perversely delightful. It inspires you to throw caution to the wind and do the things that most are afraid to do. Whether that be artistically, socially, politically, or sexually.
The funniest scene is the aftermath of this, with Federico’s realization of his desire for Salvador.
Federico García Lorca
Although both men are assumed to be straight, they experiment with their sexuality as they do their with their creative endeavors. This nineteen-twenties society doesn’t exactly welcome maricóns with open arms. Feddy is repenting for his “impure thoughts” of Salvador. He prays to be freed of this black widow spider. He continues to avoid him like the plague. There is a scene where Federico sees Salvador walking up the stairwell, and he reacts as though he has witnessed the devil incarnate himself.
This scene is not just about portraying Federico running from his homosexuality, this scene portrays the villainous energy of Salvador Dali and says a lot about Salvador as a character. Salvador stands for everything that is taboo and different. Dali is, by nature, a rare creature. He is artistic and strangely enchanting. Salvador Dali is the villain. His very existence threatens the established order. He is a disruption to society, the art world and to the people around him. He is capable of corrupting the status quo in the most interesting and unexpected of ways. Salvador Dali is a rare gem that Bunuel and Lorca were lucky enough to collect. Dali himself is like a fine painting worth billions. Ultimately, though, unlike a piece of art, he has the freedom to walk away anytime he likes. Dali cannot simply be owned like a painting.
Lorca despite his revolutionary aspirations, comes across as still rather old fashioned in some kind of way. Lorca is well mannered and morally righteous. He is the type to pray, respect his teachers and be diplomatic. Dali is alienated from any kind of normal demeanor and disregardful of the traditional niceties of society. He doesn’t care about keeping the peace and will be downright disrespectful and rowdy at times. Initially, it was this very chaotic behavior and strange persona that drew Lorca to him. In the end, the two grew apart and became too different to coexist with each other. Lorca grew tired of Dali’s games and found him to be displeasing. Perhaps it was Dali’s new admiration for fascism that put a bad taste in his mouth. After seeing so many of Dali’s childish antics, I personally can’t take anything he did seriously. For Lorca this stood against everything he was fighting for, and was unforgivable. Dali was a man of varied and extreme tastes.
Dali is certainly queer. Although it is a matter of semantics, I don’t think Dali was truly gay or at least not looking for a real relationship with Federico. Dali is so artistically inclined that he would be willing to try anything once and will quickly move on to the next thing that captures his attention. Federico just happened to be one of Dali’s many fixations. This is shown when Dali suddenly leaves Federico in Spain and goes to Paris with Bunuel to contribute to his play and advance his artistic predilections. In defense of Dali, I don’t believe that he was truly cold hearted. He merely had a higher vision and purpose to his life. Dali lives for art. Dali creates art but he also lives by the philosophy of art. Art cannot be understood logically but it has to be felt. Dali likes to feel energized and free. He is like a bird, he may leave Lorca today to fly to Paris, but by tomorrow he will be back to share his spoils. As a piece of art may be interpreted, you must interpret Dali’s actions.
Salvador Dalí
On the surface, Salvador Dali is a villain. Indeed he is the villain. But in the same thread, he is also the absurdist hero. Despite every dastardly action of Dali we root for him anyway. For the sake of the human spirit to be free! Dali is a rich well of multitudes of colors, like a rainbow. Perhaps Dali’s sexuality was as fluid as a rainbow and not so easily defined by human words. Each day he chooses a different color that will surprise and shock. Dali is disgustingly weak and fragile and in others he is brave and inventive. His transformation from the start of college to the beginning of his fame is like witnessing a train wreck come back from destruction.
Salvador Dalí
Interestingly enough, it does not appear that Federico was gay either. As he is always shown to be intertwined with Magdalena. Unless, you consider his relationship with Magdalena a performance. There is definitely a lot homophobic rhetoric and symbolism going on throughout the film, so it is likely that both Lorca and Dali felt internalized homophobia. Especially with the pressure from the larger conservative and violent society. Even their close friend, Luis Bunuel is shown as highly homophobic and threatens violence on the maricons.
Human relationships can be ambiguous so who can truly say. Queerness and artistic persuasions are similar, in that they creatively break the norms of society. It’s a good parallel to use to understand the revolutionary emotions of the film. Political freedom, artistic expression, and sexual liberty can all be frightening and exhilarating. I don’t think the focus of the film is only about sexuality. Salvador Dali is an artist that you cannot fully capture, there is something about him that you just can’t put your finger on. That is why Federico cannot understand Dali. He is not supposed to. The film is really great at doing just that. Dali is equally mystical and insane. I use insane pretty loosely here. I should really be using the word surreal when describing Dali.
Another way you can view their relationship, is that they admire each other’s creations so much that they wanted to make their art come alive in a more “raw” expression. As Bunuel said, both Dali and Lorca are “self-titled geniuses.” Love for oneself to an extent can become narcissism. Each became fascinated with the other due to seeing the reflection of their own genius in the other. Were they truly falling in love with one another or just falling in love with their own reflection? Ultimately, falling in love with the reflection of their own artistic sentiments. Much of the ambiguous nature of their relationship can be left to interpretation and is wonderfully captured in the film.
I do think Dali is absolutely savage in all of his expressions. With the way he behaves, it's any wonder how he can practically live in the real world outside of his artistic daydreams. Understanding Lorca’s success is easy because he has every positive affiliation under the sun. You feel that he has slowly and surely built a name for himself in the standard fashion. Dali is so disruptive that the surrealists literally “expelled him from the movement.” Creativity is by nature, a chaotic and destructive thing. That is why Dali detests the art college professors from critiquing him. Giving a commendable villainous speech on how he disapproves of the professors wasting his talent and showcasing how useless they are.
Salvador: “Gentlemen, I have returned from Paris with the conclusion that the entire amount of real, artistic knowledge contained within this panel of professors is not equal to one half of this. This, my fingernail. Not one half, gentlemen. And I’ve been insulting myself, by letting your shoddy practices, your pathetic outdated theories, and questionable character shit on my genius. I hope with all my heart that you’ll realize I am right and give up this foolishness and go back to the pigsties and the haystacks where you might be of some real use.”
Salvador Dalí roasting the art professors
Dali does not need the approval of anyone. He is willing to burn any bridge that stands in the way of his creativity. That is pretty savage. It is this quality that Magdalena admires in Salvador and the very reason she invites him to her aunt’s “legendarily dull dinner parties.” When someone says party, they instantly think of Dali. An actual quote from Salvador Dali comes to mind, “I don’t do drugs, I am a drug.” She even says that it is vital for her aunt to know people such as Salvador. He is a good representation of the revolutionary ideology that her conservative aunt is sheltered from. Merely being in Dali’s presence is enlightening. This isn’t to say that Salvador doesn’t get extremely drunk at the party. As you may have realized by now that Dali is truly a walking contradiction. Not only are there conservative people attending the party but literary censors from Madrid are present as well. This uptight and stuffy dinner party is the perfect scene to make Salvador Dali shine in all of his counter-cultural glory. At the very least, you will be entertained by his antics. Worst case scenario, you are chased out of the building by civil guards. Either way, it will be a night to remember.
Salvador Dalí at Magdalena's aunt's dinner party
Little Ashes: Defining quotes:
Luis Bunuel: “All the institutions that prop up this corrupt regime must be dismantled!”
Paco: “I just think it sounds a bit extreme.”
Luis Bunuel: “But it has to be extreme, Paco. It has to be complete revolution. All the churches, all the palaces.”
-
Salvador Dali: “You know, when I was small there was this ruined tower near our house in Cadaques. I would sit in this tower and I’d draw, and draw and draw. I never came down. Just imagine this little shrimp of a child, half-starved, covered in piss. And I wouldn’t come down in the winter, in the summer. In the freezing cold, I’d fill this iron tub with water and I’d sit in it for days. It’s like even then I realized that if I’m going to be anything more than average, if anyone is going to remember me, then I need to go further in everything. In art, in life. And everything that they think is real, morality, immorality, good, bad, I, we have to smash that to pieces. And we have to go beyond that. We have to be brave, Frederico.”
Federico Garcia Lorca: “No limit.”
Salvador Dali is excessive in his pleasures as well as his snobbery. He is self indulgent and selfish. To be fair, he needs to be selfish for the sake of his work. If Dali were not selfish, he would lose his artistic voice catering to the whims of others. It's this dastardly quality that makes Dali a villain, a villain you have to respect. Even though you hate him, you must admit that it is his unwillingness to compromise that makes him get what he wants. Dali is a fully concentrated, unfiltered can of artistic expression.
Dali can be considered a reckless trouble maker or a mischievous gremlin. Dali creates some sort of mayhem everywhere he goes. In one scene, Dali convinces Lorca to steal a couple of bicycles with him. Lorca gives in and follows Dali, throwing caution to the wind. This starts the beginning of a new chapter in their relationship. A dirty secret that no doubt draws Lorca only that much further into Dali’s web. Dali rides ahead at full speed, while Lorca can barely keep up. This is symbolic of their relationship, Dali moving forward and never looking back, while Lorca can only try to keep up with the new thing Dali is on to.
When I say Dali is a spider, I mean he has caught Lorca in his web of desire with no intention of a fulfilling relationship. I believe Lorca loved Dali more than he loved him back. You can always sense that Dali is somewhere else, that is just who he is. But you can sense the unevenness in their relationship by analyzing the scenes where they invite each other to their childhood homes. Salvador doesn’t invite Federico to his home, he says that he is coming, as if it is already a given. Federico overlooks his lack of consideration, and treats it as a forgivable child-like exuberance. Later in the film, when Federico politely asks Salvador to come to see his family, his home, and everything that he is, Salvador disregards his offer and tells him that he already sees who he is. That speaks volumes to me. It’s like Dali doesn’t care to know who Federico really is, outside of what he believes him to be, the famous and daring Federico Garcia Lorca. When Dali first arrived at college, his mind was preoccupied with art. His relationship with Lorca is purely business. Lorca serves as a muse and Dali is close to devouring him, physically and metaphysically. I think that is what is so selfish about Dali; he will use Lorca's heart if it will help improve him artistically. Dali is eccentric and almost inhuman. His artwork made him immortal in a sense. I think that is what he was going for. Dali assumed that they would live on in his paintings forever. Lorca believed that eventually they would be nothing but dust, or little ashes. There is a sensibility in Lorca. Dali always seemed to have eyes that were larger than his stomach, in terms of what he wanted to achieve. His visions were always fantastical and simply nonsensical. In art, this is an empowering notion. In real life, it is simply unrealistic. 
So Federico goes to visit his family for the holiday break, alone. He writes this letter to Salvador:
“Salvador, I think of you and I’ve never thought more intensely in my life. Since our time together, everything I am has been split apart. I write in a way that I’ve never thought possible. My pen scratches the surface of things, the masks. And then it goes beyond them, right down to the bones. Down to the dark, cold jelly in the marrow.”
And he writes back.
“Federico, from the day you left, I’ve been in the studio day and night. I started to work on designs for your play. I’m doing them gypsy-style. Andalusian, like you. The unconscious mind, Federico, rises like a beast within me. I let it speak and it produces such wonders.”
Then once more from Federico,
“It’s true. I touch sea bottom in myself and my poems write themselves. I am, just as you said, raw, bloody, alive. And I, too, want to be alive.
Dali, once again, is a little thief and steals the key to Lorca’s room. He is working on the set designs for Lorca’s play. This is where the two share a kiss before they are interrupted by Luis. Before that though, Dali mentions a line from Lorca’s letter, “everything that you are being split apart.” This line in his letter also caught my attention. Federico said something similar to this when he invited Dali to his childhood home. He said “I want to show you everything that I am.” When Dali refused and he was left alone to visit, that was when he wrote “everything that I am being split apart.” Was this splitting apart triggered by the absence of Dali? It seems like a romantic notion, but it may be due to Dali’s all-encompassing influence on Federico. Dali seems to have changed Federico’s view of himself to fit the ideals of Dali. Living in Dali's world has corrupted Federico. Dali has completely disrupted his morality and his religious beliefs. For better or worse, is not the point. The point is, Dali has a hold on Lorca. Like a spider, Dali has fully wrapped Lorca in his web. Just in time for feasting on his face.
Luis asks Federico how the progress for his screenplay edit is going only to find out Federico has no idea what he is talking about. He is referring to the screenplay he asked him to write about. Federico’s excuse being that he hadn’t had much time. It’s because his world now revolves around the all-important Salvador Dali. Dali asks Feddy to “play the putrescent game,” to Luis’s confusion. Luis looks as though he is being left out of some inside joke. Dali explains that putrescent is his new word and that it means outdated, outmoded. As if to say that the friendship between Federico and Luis is outdated. The word that Dali owns seems to signify that Luis is living in Dali’s world now. The atmosphere changes as though Salvador has put a wall between Luis and that he has Federico all to himself. Luis tries to play along but it is clear that there is something special between the two of them that Luis is no longer involved in. It’s the Dali and Lorca show and Luis has become the third wheel. Federico attempts to hide the tense atmosphere by inviting the whole gang out. Dali asks Lorca what he should wear. Luis is sensing their homo relationship. Obviously, it appears like the homophobic Luis is becoming suspicious of the two. Beyond that, It once again highlights the level of narcissism in Dali and the control he has over Federico. Could what Lorca sees as a mutual relationship, really just be Dali indulging in his artistic frivolities? Dali could never have this much self-involvement in any friendship, so he uses the intimate relationship he has with Lorca to play his strange games and to self-indulge in his own egoism.
Salvador: “Federico is working on something now that will blow everything apart.”
Luis: “What’s it about? His family? Butterflies? God?”
Salvador: “Me.”
Salvador Dalí talking to Luis Buñuel
Somehow, Dali, this strange man has consumed Federico Garcia Lorca for everything that he is and has spit him back out. Lorca has turned his back on everything and everyone for Dali. Where once Dali was the fanboy of Lorca, now Lorca is a fan of Dali. Dali has truly used an Uno Reverse Card here. Does Dali share the same amount of admiration and loyalty? Not really. Dali leaves Federico behind for the opportunity of finding success in Paris. After listening to Luis talk about how dull Lorca’s work is and how he the people in Paris "wouldn’t give a fuck about his work." Dali doesn’t defend Lorca, he only talks about himself. The level of snobbery is unmatched. It only takes a little convincing on Luis’s part to convince Dali not only is Federico done for as an artist, but that life in Spain is over with.
After all of the accommodation Federico had done for Salvador, it is understandable why he would be upset that he left him. Salvador chose to work with Luis, the rageful homophobe of all people. Dali goes to Paris to pursue his art, to meet Picasso and the surrealists. Lorca quickly comes to understand that he is losing Salvador, that he doesn’t hold the same grip that Salvador has on him. Salvador was always flighty and unpredictable, but he was never this way towards him. It's as if their relationship was just another bright and sparkly object that momentarily caught Dali’s eye. If Federico was split apart before, now he is absolutely ripped apart and burned to little ashes.
In the first half of the film, we witness the transformation of Dali from a meek thing into a loud and daring man. With the inspiration of Federico Garcia Lorca, Dali was able to transform from a novice artist into a genius artist from the tales of some fantastical myth. By the second half of the film, Dali has once again reinvented himself, this time without the presence of Federico. When Federico sees Salvador for the first time since he’s arrived back in Spain, it is like he is meeting an entirely new person. Dali is ever changing, like the moon has many phases. Sadly, Federico was caught in a phase that couldn’t come true. Dali has left a mark on Lorca’s heart, though it doesn’t seem that Dali has been affected at all. Can he really brush off all that has happened and begin a new life just like that?
When Dali returns to share his exploits, including the naked photo of a woman called Gala. Lorca is not so happy with Dali’s cavalier attitude. He doesn’t want to be considered as just another one of Dali’s fascinations or thrilling conquests. He wants to matter, but not in the way Dali thinks he matters, as the famous Federico Garcia Lorca. Wasn’t their relationship more personal than that? Were the sentiments they shared merely just artistic thrills? Did any of that actually touch Dali’s heart? It definitely touched Lorca, “down to the very cold jelly in the marrow.”
Federico had grown tired of Dali’s games. He wants to know who Dali really is, not just who he pretends to be. Dali plans to start what he calls his “real life.” This makes Federico feel like nothing more than an old pair of tattered shoes. Salvador now made it sound like the time he spent with Federico was nothing but a dull and tortuous thing of the past he had to endure. Not only is Dali physically different, but the change in Dali’s character is totally unrecognizable to Federico. He feels alienated from the man he once felt so close to. After the time spent in Paris, it is clear that Luis has become Dali’s new compadre, as he begins to recite the same homophobic rhetoric back to Federico in the most hypocritical fashion.
Dali: “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
Dali: “You’re a selfish fucking maricon.”
Salvador Dalí with Federico García Lorca
Again, it is a shame the homophobic rhetoric will paint Salvador Dali's actions as purely evil. Instead, if we just look at the situation in terms of pursuing artistic endeavors, we will see that Dali's actions are quite necessary to the success of his artistic ambitions. 
Speaking of Luis and Dali spending their time together in Paris. The film they were creating strongly references to Lorca, it is called “An Andalusian Dog.” It looks like it was Dali and Bunuel's intention to mock Lorca.
Federico García Lorca with Magdalena
That is some truly despicable backstabbing. What did Lorca ever do to you Dali? It seems like the only way Dali could come to terms with his own internalized homophobia was to blame Federico for his feelings. Spending time with Luis was not a positive influence on the highly influenced Dali. Being that his identity is so flexible. Federico may have brought out the best in Dali, both artistically and emotionally. Whereas Luis brought out the worst in him.
Dali stopped all communication and affiliation with Lorca. Not responding to the letters that Federico had written to him. Federico was completely pushed out of Salvador Dali’s life.
Federico: “It’s as if nothing ever happened. Sometimes I think we never even met.”
By the time Federico catches up with Dali for the final time, Dali has been fully transformed into a caricature of the man he once knew. He is sporting a ridiculous mustache, no matter how fashionable it may be. His speech is full of metaphors and he speaks in an odd accentuated manner. By some impossibility, his clothes and surroundings are somehow even more pretentious than they were before. Dali comments that Federico looks the same in contrast to Dali whose identity changes like a revolving door.
Salvador recites Wait Whitman: “All this time. The dark unfathomed retrospect. The teaming gulf. The sleepers and shadows.”
Salvador introduces his wife Gala to Federico and seems to be trying to create some sort of ménage à trois scenario.
Dali: “The only viable solution to surrealism is the world war. A cleansing. Cut through all this dead wood. Purge the weak elements. An era of enlightenment.”
Salvador Dalí with Federico García Lorca and Gala
Lorca: “Are you saying you actually support the fascist? You used to be an anarchist.”
Federico García Lorca with Salvador Dalí and Gala
Dali: “Oh Federico, you’ve become so liberal. What with your government schemes and your theatral little people.”
Lorca: “Listen, this country is on the brink of something terrible and here you are siding with the people who could destroy everything we stand for. I know you are not through but you must see there’s been no freedom of speech. Anyone who is different, who strays from the norm would just be wiped out.”
Dali: “Would that be a bad thing?”
Lorca: “You’re joking.”
Gala explains that Dali is not interested in politics. That doesn’t mean he should mock Federico and his beliefs. Salvador knows the severity of the situation but instead makes light of it and turns it into a joke.
Federico recites his poem of Dali and wants him to recite his ode, telling of his olive-colored voice. Once again highlighting Dali’s egocentrism. Lorca says Dali always has a plan for everything. Dali claims he can guess the actions of Lorca. This is because Dali is a spider and spins his plans like a spider would its web. Like a spider can sense the vibrations on the web when its prey moves, Dali always knows the next move of the people trapped in his web. Dali proposes that Federico pack his things and come with him to conquer America. Another attempt to pull Federico back into his web of control. After suggesting a ménage à trois situation, Federico is not into it and leaves pretty quickly after that. The sad thing is that Dali had deluded himself into thinking that Federico truly had nothing better to do than to wait around for the great King Dali.
Federico returns to his home town of Granada only to be targeted by the civil guard and abducted. Federico has made a name for himself after his political views became a threat to the established regime. The punishment for freedom of speech is death, apparently. After Federico Garcia Lorca is executed by the civil guard, Salvador Dali loses his mind. Salvador Dali's sanity was already questionable, but this time he’s really lost it for good. I’m sure Salvador was feeling latent regret.
Takeaway: Salvador used Federico as a muse and his personal fan. He had no real feelings. Salvador used him as training wheels before he outgrew him. Federico sees Salvador’s growth as a negative instead of a natural process and change of life. Let the bird fly and if it comes back to you it was meant to be. By the time Salvador came back, Federico had also grown and moved on. Both men pursued their creative work. Having had the beautiful experiences and inspiration from the other to move forward in their careers.
Bonus for the romantics:
If you care to view Dali the way I believe Lorca sees him, feel free to read the inner dialogue I wrote of Federico Garcia Lorca below. Warning: Federico is a total simp for Salvador.
Federico García Lorca staring at Salvador Dalí
Federico García Lorca STILL staring at Salvador Dalí
Someone who is interesting from head to toe. Strange hair style and an avant garde fashion sense. Everyone notices you when you enter the room. You take with you a universe of dreams. Your sturdy yet fragile ego. The nervous tremor in your hand is what makes you all the more fascinating. How can someone as strong as you be nervous in simple situations such as this? It’s humanizing, you who was untouchable might just be like me in a way. If I could be similar to you I would be flattered. The piece of hair tucked behind your ear. Although you look like a nervous mess and a bundle of nerves I sense that you hold a stronger power than you confess. The intensity emanating from the darkness in your light colored eyes. I see who you really are behind the mask. 
Someone who is more interesting on the inside. Whose powers and abilities are seemingly endless. Wanting to look deeper into your soul but getting lost in an endless abyss. The odd remarks you make. Your delusional imagination of the past and future. You have a grandiose self image that carries you forward at an unstoppable rate. You are extraordinarily impressive when you do what you really want without approval from others. The way you disregard the standards set by our society. You yell, mock, vandalize and oppose the established order.
Although you look like a pathetic chicken standing on his only leg, you are absolutely dazzling. It’s almost entertaining to see what you’ll look like tomorrow. You are so dynamic I can't wait to see what happens next. Meeting you was like unfolding a story. You change your identity daily. You don’t care if you’re mad. You boldly lie about who you are. But I actually believe your lies. The lies you tell are still a part of who you are, inside. You can imagine things that others can’t, you imagine a different world, turned upside down on its ass. I’ve found myself wanting to trust in your lies over reality.
All I need is to follow you, no matter where it leads me. The world is just the world but the world changes when you’re in it. Even when you do things that I can not find myself to begin to forgive you for. You don’t sacrifice your dreams for anyone, not even me. I’m okay with that. I know that I am just another chapter in the grand story of you. I just want to stay in the plot for as long as I'm useful. You seem to always know where you’re going. You have a mission in life. Your life has a purpose unlike most. You are my messiah. Your brain thinks twice as fast as mine. Your imagination is endless. I’m on a ride and I don't want to get off. It’s exhilarating and I pity those whose lives are completely stationary going round and round on the same orbit.
This has been a creative review of "Little Ashes" 2008 Film, Starring: Robert Pattinson, Director: Paul Morrison, Screenplay: Paul Morrison, Philippa Goslett
youtube
I highly encourage you watch this film if you haven't already.
Article written by Nina Robinson, author of novel "Villainism", via villainism.com
16 notes · View notes
multifictional · 2 years
Text
Hi!
I wanted to say thank you for all the interactions on my first imagine, the part one of distance sadness.
I was so afraid to post it, and I surely couldn’t imagine that people would like it - let alone reach more than one hundred notes!
I’m so thankful, I’m glad you liked it. It fulfils my heart of joy.
Hope to be able to post the next part soon :)
1 note · View note
billysgun · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
woven
edward cullen x fem!reader |edward sneaks into your bedroom like always. but this time, you ask him to hold you|
Tumblr media
your body is tense as you curl around your woven sheets, the sudden cool air settling in the room as the corner of your mattress dips
you feel his heavy hand trace over your leg and you couldn't help the smile that was pulled from your lips
you turn over to see him and his golden eyes seem to soften as your arms open wide for him
"come and hold me, please"
he nods and you notice how his chest stops moving as he moves on top of the blanket, pulling your warm body to his cold one
you dig your nose into the sheets as his hands reaches over your body to hold yours, thumb brushing against your palm softly, putting you into a trance
the wind that drifts from the open window isn't nearly as cold as your boyfriend, but the goosebumps that lay upon your skin tingle with each stroke from him, igniting your insides from his love.
your body goes limp and your eyes roll back as sleep completely takes you, as relaxed as can be while he watches you fondly.
Tumblr media
an: hehe trying something new. tell me if you guys like it! I'm still posting billy content don't worry!
362 notes · View notes
Text
give & take
summary: bruce wayne x female!reader learning what their partner likes during sex
word count: 832
warnings: NSFW, SMUT, mentions of fingering, oral (both receiving), p in v sex, overstimulated, praise kink, degradation kink, face fucking, i think that's it?
an: let me know what you think of this one! it's not much but i wanted to get it out of my brain :)
bruce is such a giver.
he was so touch deprived when you first starting seeing each other that he just wants to shower you in appreciation for giving this back to him.
every night before he heads out to patrol, he’d burry his face between your thighs and greedily fingerfucks you until you’re seeing stars
every time the two of you are required to go to a public event, he’d make sure to find a secluded room where he would get on his knees for you after seeing you in that dress
if your response after he asks how your day was is anything less than ‘great, love, yours?’ he’d tug you off towards his bed and spend hours kissing every single inch of your body
praising you because he knows how much you love it:
‘such a good girl’, ‘you are so gorgeous squeezing around my fingers’, ‘you are doing so good, darling’, ‘you can cum again, I know you can.’, ‘be a good girl and moan my name while I tease this perfect clit, beautiful.’
this man would worship the ground you walk on and is utterly obsessed with every part of you
there were signs of him wanting more though. the way his eyes would widen and he'd blush so cutely after you told him it was okay to be rough with you. you'd tell him every night how you want to shower him with the same affection he gives you. but he’d ignore you to burry his face into your dripping cunt again whimpering and whining about how much he loves you.
you could see him fall into the blissful high of your warm folds wrapping around his cock so perfectly and he slowly would lose his composure. fucking you as if he didn't know you, plowing into you like his access to oxygen depended on it. his rough strokes against your sensitive core seemed to speak how much he loved using you - you just needed to drag that out of him.
you waited in the batcave for him on a stormy night that you couldn’t sleep. ‘what are you doing awake, darling?’ He’d ask as he slipped his cowl off with a concerned tone to his voice. you didn't need to say anything. just walk up to him and slowly peel layer by layer of his suit off, dragging your finger tips across each muscle, bruise, fresh cut, or healed scar as you exposed his skin.
‘you could have waited in bed if you wanted me,’ reaching for you, wanting to see more of your skin than what you were offering. you’d stop his hands before they could touch you, using them as anchorage as you floated to the floor on your knees. never breaking eye contact.
he’d already be hard, even innocent touches from you were enough to spark that reaction. but there was something about seeing how well you were swallowing him down, drooling and gagging around him with no care in the world...
there was no denying that bruce craved control. that’s part of the reason he goes out, he wants to control the crime of Gotham.
but this was different. you were strong, independent, you didn’t need bruce, you had all the control in your own life. but here you were, on your knees for him. His. His beautiful and perfect equal.
you saw the shift in his eyes when he accepted how much he loved this. his fingers tangling in your hair as a low groan rumbled from his chest. ‘good fucking girl,’ his eye bored into yours, drinking up the sight of you degrading yourself for him as tears formed in the corner of your eyes. ‘you’re prettiest when you’re messy like this for me.' he's never respect you more - you had so much power but you set it aside for him. this was his bliss.
and that’s when you both found the perfect blend of kinks. he felt the whimper he fucked into your throat and saw the familiar glint in your eye as you desperately rolled your hips forward. ‘you like this, don’t you? love being my secret little cocksucker, fully knowing you’ll turn around tomorrow and command respect.’ you’d nod your head, still working your mouth feverishly around his cock.
‘i love it too, baby,’ a moan would escape him that belonged in a porno as he twitched in your throat, fucking his hips into your face. his head would fall backwards at the disgustingly lewd sounds coming from your perfect lips only making his grip on your head tighten and his pace rougher. ‘take my cock like a good slut. y’ve such a good throat for me.’
after you swallowed his sticky load, he’d all but fall to his knees in front of you and hug you close, whispering little thank yous as he kissed your hair. ‘you were right,’ he’d finally say before kissing you hungrily and starting his favorite task of forcing you to cum until you’re overstimulated.
293 notes · View notes
waynewifey · 8 months
Text
dear mr. wayne — b.w
part one: dear mr. wayne
part two: aftermath
part three: aporia
epilogue
summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.
pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader
genre: angst romance & dark action
warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw
word count: 2.8k
A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!
Tumblr media
gotham city, USA.
it's late.
you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.
the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.
"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.
"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.
"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.
"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.
"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.
"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.
six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.
"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.
"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."
"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."
"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.
"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.
"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.
"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.
you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.
"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.
he's in a meeting, the boring kind.
the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.
"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."
he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.
"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."
the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.
"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."
the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.
"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."
he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.
"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.
there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.
the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.
there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.
bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...
"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.
bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.
you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.
bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.
everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.
part two
497 notes · View notes
indyanapolis898 · 3 months
Text
A Tale of Two Tombstones
bruce wayne x f!reader
Synopsis: Batman needs a break after endless nights of work. He decides to visit his parent's grave as Bruce Wayne, where he's able to open up to his parents and someone else.
Tumblr media
The roaring of his motorcycle halted as it pulled into its intended parking spot. The rider slid off the bike, falling heavily onto the dusty ground of the cave in which his headquarters resided. 
A few grunts escaped his lips as he lay idly in the dim lighting of the cavern. Batman moved his gloved hands to his face to remove his dirty cowl, bloodying his gloves in the process. His messy, damp hair covered his forehead; the sweat combined with the blood on his face and head. 
He took a few unsteady breaths, trying to gain his composure. He'd finished another late night of work at the cost of his physical health. His body armor would need serious work and repatching. He blinked a few times, shutting his eyes to sleep for a few minutes.
***
Bruce Wayne opened his eyes, shifting his body, which resulted in a painful shout.
"Hey, easy there," said a concerned Alfred, rushing to the operating table in the surgery room- located in the south wing of Wayne Manor. 
"Where- what-," Bruce breathily mumbled. 
"I found you in the cave after the computer alerted me of your presence. You took a heavy beating. I stitched up most of your wounds, but you've earned some rest, Master Bruce." 
"No. I-" Bruce cut himself off with ragged coughs. Alfred sat the bed up and raised an eyebrow with an I told you so, look. 
"Fine," Bruce finally accepted his fate and lay back on the pillow to rest more.
*** 
Bruce garnered a total of eighteen hours in and out of sleep, healing very slowly from the brutal fight he'd gotten into in a gang-filled subway station. They had tech and brute weapons that Batman hadn't seen before. They were strong enough to plaster him and his suit. The gang was still on the loose. It was plaguing Bruce's weary mind, but he knew he was in no state to get back into crimefighting. 
Sometimes, while laying in bed with his eyes open because his mind wouldn't stop running, Bruce wondered if his thoughts would ever quiet down. The only thing that could help was getting things off his chest. It was a temporary high; however, his ego and insecurity kept him from sharing with Alfred. That's why, with Alfred's permission, Bruce found himself limping to the mansion's garage in a simple gray sweater, black trench coat, and jeans. His hair was messy and unkempt, only kept out of his face with the pair of sunglasses that rested on his forehead.
Bruce entered one of his vehicles, a black SUV with tinted windows, and let his driver take him to the Gotham Graveyard. 
***
After a morning of light showers, the sky had cleared up into a baby blue. Bruce struggled out of the car, leaving the driver to wait on the curb outside the cemetery. It was an empty scene. Rows and rows of headstones sat under a canopy of trees with no people to visit. The graveyard resided in a more rural area of the city, so the memorial area was quiet besides the occasional squawking of birds and the wind rustling the autumn-kissed leaves.
Bruce stepped onto the damp, all-too-familiar grassy path leading to the headstones of his late parents. 
Their monuments were big and overly fancy. The cleaner Alfred hired twenty-six years ago still came every month to polish and clean the headstones. In honor of the Wayne's, a bench sat on the side of the stones, so Bruce sat there, idly taking in the silence. 
Breathe in, breathe out.
Speaking in a tranquil but emotional voice, Bruce began to talk to the air, confessing how he missed them, his beloved mother and father. 
"...and that's why I came. I just needed to talk. I needed to be in your presence again. I believe Alfred still cries over you, Father. He acts strong, as you taught, but deep down, he's like me: broken."
"I wish I could be fully capable of feeling, but all I think about is the injustice and monstrous side of the city. The city that took you two away."
Bruce stared at the ground, trying to focus on the words he was saying when a leaf crunching from behind alerted him to whip around. 
A woman, maybe five foot, stood behind him, wide-eyed and embarrassed. 
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you..." she caught her breath, most likely at the realization of who she was talking to, but regained her train of thought. "My mother... her grave is just behind them," she explained, gesturing to a headstone behind the Wayne's. 
Heather Lycona. 
Bruce resorted to nodding in reply. The woman approached closer to the headstone but stopped, clearly wanting to say something the way her mouth opened and closed. Bruce cocked a brow. He decided to attempt to be conversive. "How?" he nodded his head at her mother's gravestone.
"What?"
"How did she pass?" he tilted his head. She clutched the ends of the scarf she was wearing, a shade of black to contrast the white dress under her jet puffer coat. 
"Oh, um, gang violence. Three months ago, Mom was out at night just trying to get groceries, and, she um..."
Bruce nodded in indication he understood. "Mine as well."
"I know- I mean, I know the story, of course," she awkwardly laughed as a buffer. She looked around and then back at Bruce sitting on the bench. "I'm sorry for intruding on your moment. I-I can come back later."
Bruce shook his head wordlessly. "No, that won't be necessary. I did what I came here to do," he answered raspily. 
"May I sit?" 
Bruce didn't expect the woman to want to be in his presence any longer, yet he wasn't against her sitting with him. Her eyes could tell a story, one that he wanted to hear. His eyes traveled to the open space beside him, barely nodding at it. 
She sat down on the wooden bench, breathing in the mossy air. "There's something about the cemetery that's so peaceful. Everyone says it's scary because it's the resting place for hundreds of people, but I believe it's just a reminder of all the lives that came before us. Everyone is just asleep here, and we sit with them."
Usually, Bruce wouldn't be a fan of the conversation, yet he decided that she was intriguing, a type of thoughtfulness he appreciated. 
He hummed at her words. "Bruce Wayne," he introduced even though she knew very well who he was, leaning back into the bench. 
"Y/N Lycona." 
"Why did you visit today?"
"Sometimes I just enjoy being around her. It's peaceful here."
"I understand."
"What about you? Why did you visit, Mr. Wayne?"
He glanced at her before looking back to the swaying tree branches. "Same as you," he breathed out. He wasn't sure why she was asking him. Not that Bruce believed he was too good to answer questions, but because he'd assume she wouldn't be interested in him. Usually, people were interested in his position. 
"Do you ever feel they were the only people who understood you? I feel like that with Mom."
Bruce nodded, barely moved his gaze to her, then studied her with his signature deadpan expression. Bruce picked up once again on what he'd thought earlier. Y/N seemed warm, like in the right situation, she'd open up. She probably thought a lot. The woman stared off at the trees like he'd been earlier, looking deep in thought. 
"Your mind... is it always running?" 
She quietly sniffled in the chilled air. "Yes. I got approved for the investigative division of the GCPD. I want to help find and eliminate the gangs of Gotham. I don't know what my mother would've wanted me to do for her case, but I know she wanted me to help bring justice to the city. She got me through school for criminal justice. It's what I wanted to do from the start, but it was for the sake of others. Now, it's all for her- for her justice."
"You seem very driven, detective. I hope you do what you set out to do," Bruce stated. 
"If I can contribute to bringing criminals and killers to prison, I'll do what I must. I can't just watch someone turn into the next Heather. Gotham needs change." 
For the first time in a while, Bruce's lips slightly twisted up. "Then we are very alike." 
The two sat in comfortable silence for ten minutes, occasionally making small comments. 
Bruce decided he'd stayed his welcome, opting to stand up suddenly. He nodded down at Y/N. "I give you my best wishes on your assignment. I'll be using my resources to continue assisting the work," he said, his tone void of emotion, but they could both tell he meant it. 
"Good to talk to you, Mr. Wayne."
"Bruce is fine," he mumbled audibly, turning to leave. 
"Thank you for understanding. You don't say much," Y/N chuckled, "but I could tell you understood me."
Bruce gave a close-mouthed smirk, walked out the gates, and got in his car. 
"Thank you for your patience, Gerald."
The driver nodded and drove the pair back to the manor. 
Bruce came out of his visit knowing two things: 
First, he'd have to visit the cemetery more often. 
And second, as soon as he could get back his vigilante work, he would thwart every gang he could get his hands on. If it would help fulfill Y/N's goal, he'd devote all his energy to it. 
174 notes · View notes
anitalenia · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 ₊˚⊹♡
Tumblr media Tumblr media
⋆˙⟡♡ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦. ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛… 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡. 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒. ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Tumblr media
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹ the beginning of how it started. a part detailing how Batman initially treated you and handled the relationship.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹ how Batman fell in love with you and all the things that happened leading up to it. all the signs and actions that made him love you.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹ how Batman handled the reality of being in love with you and all the things he did to try and hide from it. better yet, his confession.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹ yours and Bruce’s relationship and how he was with you. some relationship headcanons for fun.
Tumblr media
⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ battinson x fem!reader
⋆˙⟡♡ CONTENT INCLUDES ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ mentions of sex, mentions of fighting and threatening, rough kissing, mentions of sad!Bruce / undertones of depression, mentions of alcohol & insomnia, bad words, sweet kisses, tears, hair pulling, love confessions, not really a whole lot of sexiness just headcanons mostly
⋆˙⟡♡ WARNINGS ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ mature content, emotionally tortured Bruce Wayne, maybe not my best story telling :(, mentions of blood and fighting cuz this is Batman, alcoholism
⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ thanks to @diavolosbaby for requesting this!! Hope you enjoy and it lives up to your standards 🩷
OTHER LINKS ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
Tumblr media
𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓷 ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ He told you what this was before he even started it. Told you this was strictly business, no feelings involved; you knew who he was during a chance encounter and you were the only one he could really come to after that. It was simple, straight forward; you needed his dick and he needed your pussy.
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆: how he acted 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce came to you a lot, which was a little odd compared to how you perceived him to be. You thought he was a very busy man, always fighting crime or hiding away in his mansion, always too busy to bother with someone as unimportant as you. But no, you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was there at least three times a week, standing by your window in that black suit of his with his cape blowing with the wind, waiting for you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always quiet, head filled with whatever torturous pain lingered in the shadows of his mind, brimming with the secrets he never told you and you never asked for. He never spoke, unless it was a command spoken in a gentle gruffness. He never smiled, tried not to grunt or make too much noise, but some nights he couldn’t contain himself and the sounds just escaped him. Those were the nights he was particularly frustrated.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never let you take off his mask at first, he’d leave it on and you were left grasping at leather and air. He didn’t like affection, having you touch his scars and his body, it was too vulnerable, too intimate, for his liking. So, naturally, he didn’t stay to cuddle afterwards. The business was over, your job was done, he’d slip out the window as you’d bask in the aftershocks.
⋆˙⟡♡ His heart was cold but his body was warm, always warm. He was like a furnace when he’d be flat against you, fucking into you with his head in your neck and his hands gripping your jaw, your waist, your thighs. You’d always get so hot, craving his warmth like a bug to a bonfire.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never bothered to ask you anything about yourself, but you had a suspicion he had to have done some research on you during those long lonely days in the darkness of his home. He was too cautious not to, too curious. And he did. He found out everything about you but didn’t share a single detail about himself. He was Bruce Wayne, rich son whose parents died by day, and then Batman, vengeance personified by night. That’s all you needed to know.
⋆˙⟡♡ Batman only came to you in the middle of the night, sometimes bloody and beaten, your fingers running over tender bruises that would make him grimace. A part of him liked the pain, figured he deserved it. Sometimes you worried for him on the nights he was particularly beaten up, but he didn’t give you time to ask questions before he was shoving you against your dresser and pressing himself against you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t like being in the light, being too seen. He liked it with all the lights off, your room glowing with the dim light of the moon and the streetlights, your face pressed into his neck or shoved into a pillow so you couldn’t look at him.
⋆˙⟡♡ In the beginning, he liked it when you just submitted to him; he mostly cared about his own pleasure at first as he told you what this was, why he was doing this. That didn’t stop him from making sure you came at least once though. He couldn’t help it, didn’t want you to feel completely used.
⋆˙⟡♡ You noticed he always had this way about him when he touched you, almost like he yearned to hold you closer but knew he shouldn’t. His hands were rough, long fingers and hot palms, lingering on your skin before he’d move them away, never touching one place too long before he’d move on. It was almost a tease.
⋆˙⟡♡ He spied on you, a lot actually, would watch you from his spot on a roof top, stare at you through your big office window. He didn’t know why, just bored and curious, he always told himself. He’d see you stress yourself out, fill out paper after paper while your boss did nothing but throw more at you. You took it anyway and Bruce was confused by why. But he never asked, didn’t want to make a connection with you and risk losing you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He remembered sneaking into your house, waiting for you, but you were late coming home from work and he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. He felt wrong about it, but he looked through your photos and your notebooks, saw a glimpse into your real life outside of him and work and he quickly put everything back the way it was and left. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to see you as anything different than what he already did.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would lie to Alfred about where he was going at night, why he would be so late coming home. But Alfred knew he was lying, he wasn’t sure about what exactly, but Alfred knew Bruce would come to him in time.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce tried hard to keep his and yours personal lives outside of your mutual situation, he really did. He didn’t want to know you, hear you talk about your problems and your dreams and fears and learn what made you you, from your own words. He was alone and knew he was meant to be alone, planned on being alone forever. Being with him would only put you in danger, a bigger target on his back he didn’t need. It was for your own protection, for the sake of both your lives and both your hearts.
⋆˙⟡♡ He vowed to himself to keep it that way, strictly professional, a hobby almost. He really didn’t plan to fall in love, he really really didn’t…
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ Your living room was dark when you came home from work, later than usual because of your infuriating boss; he was lazy, relied on his employees to do his work while he sat in his office and ate his donuts. You hated him, loathed him, absolutely couldn’t stand him, but you understood he was just another obstacle, a milestone you needed to get through before you reached where you needed to be. So, you didn’t make a fuss, you didn’t complain, didn’t speak up. You did what you were supposed to as you were supposed to do it, just another hamster circling the wheel of business over and over until you finally got the balls to break the cycle.
Unfortunately, your ambition was almost too much for you sometimes, tonight was evidence enough.
You set your keys in the ceramic bowl by the door with a tired sigh, soft rain pattering on your windows, furniture lit up with a dim orange glow from the street lamps outside. All twisting shadows and rain drops. Your nose tickled with the scent of vanilla bean and raspberry, remembering the candle you had forgotten to blow out before you left. Oops.
Your hair was damp, gray suit littered in dark spots from the rain outside. Your limbs were sore and heavy, eyes burning and fluttering for a semblance of rest. Your heels were sore from the heels you’ve been prancing around in all day, your whole body exhausted in general. This was normal for you though, you always came home lagged and tired. You regretted being such a hard worker, but knew it would ultimately pay off in the future.
You walked to your bedroom, your heels clacking on the floor unevenly, dragging on the wooden boards as you navigated your way through the darkness. You held your purse loosely in your left hand, a shiver crawling up your spine as an unexpected gust of coolness swept up your legs and down your neck.
Your foot stuttered, lingering by the doorway in your bedroom as the rain seemed louder, less dull, wind whistling your black bed sheets. You furrowed your eyebrows at that, knowing you left your window closed before you left. Your eyes strained to see anything in the darkness as panic blared in your chest like a fire alarm, trying to make out any figure in the shadows of your room. You slowly crept forward, preparing for the worst, your exhaustion melting into hot fear that made your bones go stiff.
You swallowed, eyes immediately going to the open window to see the empty street below, the sound of a car alarm in the distance overpowering the rain that seemed to just pound harder. Your window was wide open, sheer purple curtains flapping from the breeze like a set of violet wings. Your eyes narrowed at that, hearing nothing but buzzing silence ringing in your ears. Then, it just hit you.
You couldn’t describe it exactly, but you felt a sensation of calmness wash over you as you let out a hefty breath, fear gradually melting away as your body relaxed and hands unclenched. It was like your body knew it wasn’t in any real danger, that there was nothing lurking in the shadows besides what was supposed to be. This was all too familiar to you; a setting you’ve come home to many times before. The open window, the darkness, the buzzing calm.
You felt excitement spark through you in recognition as you felt your neck tingle, a barely there whisper of a breath wash over your neck and tickle your hair.
You felt a smile quirk on your lips, turning around slowly, sucking in a sharp breath when you were met with the large bulking figure of the man in black standing just an inch away from you, a shadow hiding in shadow as he stared down at you with those black soulless eyes. He was big, a thing you liked about him, dirt encrusted on his suit and so out of place in the cozy warmth of your home. He was big and bulky, comically large for your small bedroom.
You looked back up at him, your purse dropping to the floor as instinctual arousal flooded your belly at just the mere sight of him. You couldn’t help it, your body knew what he was capable of and yearned for it. Your throat became dry, you swallowed once more as his eyes, those dark blue gems of his, looked over your face with a certain pained look in them, calculating and tortured, covered in black face paint that hid the beauty of his raw skin.
His pink lips were set in a firm frown, a faint scratch on his chin, breaths slow and even, calm. That damned mask of his covered his face, the fluffiness of his brown hair you seldom ever felt run through your finger tips. He always wore this expression, always so serious and somber like he was going through a dreadful ordeal every second he continued to live. You were always curious as to why, but knew he’d never answer, nor appreciate your nosiness.
You let your thoughts drift off, looking back up at him with a false confidence.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight…” You mumbled quietly, losing any conviction in your voice as he took a small step forward, closer to you, his heavy boot thudding on your floor. You took a small step back, crumbling under him way too easily, as always. He always loved to completely invade your space, but never let you do the same to him.
You looked up at him, he looked down at you, breaths mingling together as a dark look washed over his oceanic eyes, his strong jaw clenching as he ran his eyes over your face like this was the first time he’d ever seen you. You felt your thighs tighten at the look in them, at the way he looked at you.
You were being honest though, you didn’t expect him tonight. You had seen him two nights ago, expecting not to see him for another few weeks at least.
“Shhh…” He shushed you gently, voice gravelly but gentle, tired but awake, undertones of desire.
He leaned down towards you and you found yourself holding your own arms back from wrapping around him and taking him already, just as he always took you. His gloved hands reached for the edge of the dresser behind you, trapping you between his strong arms and chest, completely invading your senses as your eyes looked into his, almost begging. His cape flowed down his shoulders and shrouded around you both until all you could see was black, the heady smell of smoke and rain tickling your nose, captivating.
He pressed himself against you, a brick wall, the mahogany’s edge digging into your lower back as your breath stuttered. You found yourself looking at his lips, his nose, his eyes, his closeness overwhelming you as you couldn’t figure out where to look, your skin feeling hot and stuffy, the confidence you had previously now a pile on the floor as your stomach twisted.
You could see the rain on his black suit, dripping down all his gear and heavy armor he wore and down to his waist, some falling to the floor in soft drips. You licked your lips, minding the mess, feeling lightheaded and fluttery as you looked back up at him with sparkling eyes.
He cocked his head at you, dark eyes running over your lips before looking back into your own, “Take your hair down.”
He always used such a gentle, tired voice, like he didn’t want to scare you and he could never find enough sleep, but the demand was obvious in his tone, eyes dark and predatory as they stared down at you intently. He didn’t need anymore command, knowing you’d do as he said just like you always did.
You didn’t dare disobey, sensing his need sizzling in the air just as strong as your shared want. You managed eye contact as you brought a hand up to the back of your head, taking out the black hair clip holding your hair together, the rain pattering on your roof almost too loud in your ears. He stared as your hair fell down your shoulders, cascading down your back in silky waves and framing your face. You swallowed, feeling the need to clear your throat as you put a hand through your hair and brushed it over your shoulder.
You saw his eyes run over your hair, the way it fell around your cheeks, his jaw clenching once more. He brought a hand up, big and heavy, running your locks through his fingers, imagining the softness of it as the sweet smell of apricot and citrus filled his nose, the signature flavor of your favorite shampoo.
You sighed at the pleasurable sensation on your scalp, head titling back as your eyes drooped, your hair clip falling to the ground noisily as you brought your hands up and grabbed his forearms. You might’ve been a little dramatic at just a few touches, but you were so needy, needy for this dangerous man you knew absolutely nothing about besides the obvious. He was a stranger in a suit, a stranger to you, but he somehow knew how to touch you better than any man you’ve ever been with.
He took note of your reaction, his own body twitching to touch you as he noticed the look in your eyes. He felt an intense need spark through him, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. He remained calm looking, but his eyes gave it all away.
Your head was yanked back, a pleasurable gasp leaving your lips as you squeezed his arms, looking up at him with your lips parted and breaths heavy. Your head stung, hair being pulled on in just the right way that had a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs, your body buzzing alive with feeling.
Bruce looked down at you, pressing the broadness of himself against you even harder, your breasts smushed against his suit, completely at his mercy. He looked down at you with an unraveled look in his eyes as he tilted your head up towards him.
He kissed you then, rough and hot, groaning into your mouth as his tongue played with yours, teeth clashing and breaths hot against each other. You couldn’t help but moan against him as he finally granted you what you’ve been wanting for so long now, scalp burning from his hold on your hair as your hands flew up and gripped at the leather of his mask, arms wrapped around his neck.
He was forceful and rough, his other hand crawling around your waist and lifting you off the ground with such ease it almost caught you off guard. You gasped into his mouth, his hand tightening on the hold in your hair as you grimaced at the pain.
You didn’t break the kiss, stuck on him as your heels fell off your feet and hit the floor. In two big strides you were suddenly lied flat on your bouncy mattress with Batman himself between your thighs, still holding your waist and head against him as he kissed you fervently.
Your skirt slid down around your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, pressing him harder into you as all you wanted was him, him everywhere and him all over you. You moaned against him, helpless and desperate, as the ridges in his suit dug into your stomach, his lips movingly hotly against yours as he grunted against you. His cape flowed around you, thick and smooth, trapping you underneath until all you could see was blackness, unable to discern the space between his body and yours.
You knew this was going to be quick; he was too rough, too impatient and needy. It must’ve been a bad night for him, but you didn’t pry no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much the questions bubbled in your throat and ached in your chest you knew you were in no place to ask. A part of you liked it that way, liked that this was strictly this. You liked that you didn’t have to answer to him, that you weren’t bound to him and he wasn’t to you. It was just simple, secrecy for a night of shameless lust-filled sex in return.
You both got what you wanted and that was enough. You appreciated that he didn’t go beyond that just as you didn’t. Outside of this room he was Batman, a dangerous vigilante some trusted and some hated, he was Bruce Wayne, an orphan child with more money and pain than he needed. But in the shadow of your bedroom, under the covers with you, there was no identity, no obligation, just two strangers seeking each other out in search of the one thing they both wanted, blessed with none of the other drama that followed a relationship.
With Bruce on top of you in this very moment, his hands gripping your body for no reason other than pleasure, you knew he would be gone before the night was over, and you’d be alone in your bed with bite marks and handprints on your skin to serve as a reminder of the man who gave them to you. You knew he would silently leave, slip away when he thought you were sleeping, you knew he wouldn’t talk or tell you any of his problems. He’d give you what you wanted and then slip into the shadows… you had to admit, It was the most perfect arrangement.
Tumblr media
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: how it happened 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Batman didn’t plan on ever falling in love with you, but when he did, it had happened after a couple of months of doing what he did with you. But before he did, things had been going so well. You never intervened in his life and he never intervened in yours. Just as he expected, just as he preferred. It had been perfect, but somewhere along the way he had gotten too involved, started to trust you without even realizing it.
⋆˙⟡♡ At first, it started with him staying in your bed longer than he used to. You didn’t argue, comfortable with the heat his body gave you in the coldness of the night. He found himself dozing off after you would, your fluffy blanket soft on his skin and the mattress like a cloud for his broken body. He’d always be gone before you woke up though. You didn’t want to say anything about his little sleepovers, scared you’ll frighten him and he’ll stop. So you let him do as he pleased, enjoying his company albeit his silence.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never cuddled with you though, ever (don’t worry, he lets that slip too). Always stiff like a board on his side of the bed, expression crumbled with pain and peace. Sometimes he’d flinch, nightmares you never questioned him about but always noticed. Still, he’d wake up after about an hour, slip out your window, but not before giving you one last look, seeing how the moon shined down on your soft skin…
⋆˙⟡♡ Then, it was following you home after work, making sure you got home safe on those dark nights where it seemed like every shadow was following you. He’d be on the rooftops, claiming he was just curious and bored, cape flapping in the wind, when in reality he just needed to make sure you got home safely.
⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t know, but he was watching you much more than you’d ever suspect. He watched your home on the nights Gotham was quiet, his body knowing you were so close but oh so far. He thought about you when he wasn’t thinking about you, thought about the routine he had found in you, the unfamiliar closeness, the comfort he had found between your body and your bed sheets.
⋆˙⟡♡ He started kissing you more, flinching less when your fingers would graze his back. He let you look at him, look deep into his eyes when he was inside you, have your hands touching his face and his back without the security of his suit to hide him. You loved when he did that, feeling him under your hands, skin to skin as it should be.
⋆˙⟡♡ He let you see his scars in the light, didn’t care when he took off his suit and your bathroom light was on, shining down on his body and the sculpted muscle of it. He had learned you wouldn’t judge him, but he was still hesitant, suffering inside when he looked down at the floor as you gazed at him in awe… you thought he was so beautiful.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would watch you when you worked, watch as your boss would storm in and demand more from you. Bruce didn’t like that, would clench his fist and grind his teeth when you’d get scolded like a child, told to work harder when all you did was work. He’d have to control himself when your boss would walk past him on his way home every night.
⋆˙⟡♡ He started conversing with you more, holding you against his chest when you two were done. He’d ask you profound questions as you two stared up at the ceiling, you’d tell him your answer. He didn’t talk a lot, just liked to listen. It would be intimate, almost romantic. He’d listen to what you’d have to say and he’d learn, learn more about who you were, where you came from, and he’d find himself not wanting to leave, a dull ache in his chest every time you’d fall asleep and he’d have to slip out your fire escape.
⋆˙⟡♡ He never admitted it to himself, but he started to look forward to seeing you, found comfort in your small bedroom and the absence of life’s problems that came with it. He started to enjoy the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry from those candles you always forgot to blow out before work. He started to pick up on your little quirks.
⋆˙⟡♡ While gradually falling in love with you, Bruce would deny, deny, deny. He acknowledged that he was starting to feel things he didn’t want to, and he’d be incredibly disturbed and moody, more than usual. Alfred would even be a little peeved with him.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would find himself asking you how work was. He would be concerned about the bags under your eyes and the wrinkles in your clothes, not outright concerned but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He wanted to hear your voice.
⋆˙⟡♡ He would be very hesitant around you, scared he was doing too much when he’d touch you now. It wasn’t like before, when he would just grab and control. Now he was really touching you, trying to feel you, every dip and curve of your skin under his fingertips.
⋆˙⟡♡ He had gotten way too comfortable with you now, even he knew that. He relied on you and the comfort you gave, a feeling he’d been without for so long. He was like a cold soul lost in the woods, searching for something, anything, hollow, a warm body to bring him back. He found that with you, and he didn’t even realize it until he started to feel pain when he wasn’t around you, a pain in his chest like a knife was stabbing into his heart. He missed you but he didn’t want to…
⋆˙⟡♡ He stared at your face a lot, too intensely for your liking, thoughts behind those dark eyes of his he’d never tell you about if you confronted him about it. He just liked to look at you, watch you giggle and smile. He’d do it without realizing how intimidated it made you feel, how you’d have to blush and look away, pretend you didn’t notice. He just liked to look at you, soak in your expressions before he’d leave again.
⋆˙⟡♡ The signs were all there when you thought about it. The lingering touches, the admiring stares, the countless nights he’d watch over you. He felt like a creep, following you around so much, but he couldn’t help it. You were a pleasant distraction and he was a fool, easily succumbing to those feelings he had for you without even knowing it. They had been growing inside of him like a blooming vine… they started out small but grew into so much more, and he ignored it, until he just couldn’t take it anymore…
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ It was a quiet night in September, it had been raining for days and the coolness of autumn had just started to blow into the city. The trees danced with orange and red leaves, strewn all over the road and sidewalks, getting stuck under peoples rain boots and car tires. Your window was cracked, letting a cool breeze into your room that made you shiver, the savory smell of someone’s cooking wafting into your noses from the apartments across the way. You looked at your tv, black screen shut off but reflecting the blurred forms of your mingled bodies on your bed, arm outstretched on Bruce’s stomach, head lying on his chest. You could hear his heart, slow and calm just as he always was, pumping in your ear and lulling you to sleep.
You wanted to stay awake though, listening to the sounds of cars driving in rain puddles and horns honking, the occasional laughter of a passerby. A candle was lit on your dresser across the room, with the faint scent of vanilla bean and raspberry in the air just as Bruce liked. Your legs were a little sore, thighs tender from where Bruce had gripped them so hard, lips puffy from where Bruce had kissed them so much. You felt satisfied, pleasant even, comforted by his presence, the knowledge of his identity absent in your mind as you didn’t register him as a millionaire, or as a crime fighting vigilante, you never really did.
He was neither of those things to you. He was… he was Bruce, just Bruce, your Bruce. Not Bruce Wayne or Batman, and that was enough for you. You took him as he is not as he was, never questioned him about his parents or how Batman was even created. He appreciated that, didn’t like answering questions about himself he wasn’t comfortable with. He was comfortable with silence, but he didn’t mind hearing you.
He was awake too, didn’t want to fall asleep before you, something in his mind telling him he should leave already, not sink into the mattress any further and let himself relish in your warmth. He had responsibilities, duties, people he needed to save and crime he needed to stop. It was Gotham, something was always wrong and someone always needed help. But he couldn’t think about any of that stuff around you, his thoughts always either empty or crowded with your smile.
His suit was a mess on the floor, scrambled just like his mind, bat mask clear as day in his vision, lit up in a red glimmer from the light outside. It stared at him with its blank eyes, watching, the buzzing of a neon light loud in his ears. It’s like it was mocking him, patronizing him. He frowned at it, turning his head slightly away from it, like it was a reminder of what his true purpose was, where he should really be this late other than here in your arms. He knew he should go, felt his arm twitch like he was about to get up and unwind from you.
“Don’t you have somewhere you should be? Or are you gonna stay?” You mumbled sleepily, voice so quiet and sweet he almost didn’t hear it.
His eyes drifted to you, rubbing his fingertips on your rib cage and savoring the feeling of your smooth skin underneath him, against him. You were so unblemished, unlike him. A few scratches and scars here and there that held stories and memories, none like his. His were ridged and pale, covered his skin, they held memories but none of them good. Memories that served as reminders of why this was so wrong, of who he really was and who he needed to get back to once he left these four walls.
He thought about it for a minute, frowning at the ceiling fan.
Did he have somewhere to be? Yes, yes he did. He always had somewhere to be, that was the problem. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, he could be somewhere else, but he was here instead. He was here with you, here with you. He had somewhere to be, could be anywhere else, but he was here. Everyone always expected him to be where they were, expected him to save everyone. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t save everyone and he couldn’t be everywhere they wanted him to be. He was with you but he shouldn’t be. Guilt settled in his gut as he swallowed, hands itching like it was wrong to touch you.
His eyes, dark and somber like storm clouds, especially just as captivating, looked over your frazzled hair like he could see your face, knowing how exhausted you must’ve been from work and sex, how it was so late already and how you’d have to leave so early. Your breathing was slow and even, warm breath brushing over his chest from your parted pink lips, all cues of how you’ve already fallen asleep. He thought about your question, yes, yes he had somewhere he needed to be, he always did.
He didn’t bother speaking, just turned his head back and looked at the ceiling as his arm held you just a little tighter against him, hearing the splash of a car racing through water from somewhere outside.
He’ll stay for a little while.
Tumblr media
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒙: how it was 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ When he realized he was in love with you he left, he left for a long time. He refused to let those feelings blossom into anything more, grow into something more… dangerous. Love was dangerous, he was dangerous. He isolated himself from you, in a worse mood than usual. Alfred had picked up on it, knowing there was more going on than Bruce wanted to say. You couldn’t help the disappointment as the days turned into weeks, weeks of hope being crushed on with every night he wasn’t there.
⋆˙⟡♡ He told himself it was for the best, heartbreak was something you could heal from, death was something you’d never come back from. With his life, you would die. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t. He couldn’t subject you to that same fate his parents had.
⋆˙⟡♡ Still, he couldn’t stop himself from watching you when you’d walk home, still sitting outside your job, your home, watching you from a distance to make sure you’d be alright. He couldn’t sleep if he didn’t.
⋆˙⟡♡ He couldn’t sleep anyway. Eyes a dark purple and the ache in his chest getting so much worse. It was because of you he couldn’t sleep, bed empty and cold without you, mattress hard and firm unlike yours. His nightmares consisted of your death and his inability to save you. He was better off seeing nothing with his eyes open than your blood with his eyes closed.
⋆˙⟡♡ Alfred was concerned. Confronted his Master Bruce during breakfast when Bruce was silent and gloomy. Yes, Alfred knew he would confess eventually, just needed a little shove. “I can’t stop thinking about her, Alfred.”
⋆˙⟡♡ You couldn’t stop thinking about him either… work was slow and long, your thoughts muddled together as you couldn’t stop racking your brain for a reason, any reason, as to why, why he left. Did you do something wrong?
⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t want to say you missed him, you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. You felt almost stupid, like he had used you and discarded you, but wasn’t that the whole point? You were a mess, confused and feeling a different kind of lonely only a sad heart could bring you. You felt abandoned.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce would hide up in his room and think, read books but not pay attention to the words. Alfred would bring him his tea and advice whenever he could, but it seemed nothing could cheer him up. Bruce felt a different kind of loneliness now than he had his whole life. When his parents died they were taken away from him, he didn’t choose to give them up like he did you. He felt like he had lost yet another person.
⋆˙⟡♡ He really thought about moving on from you, a part of him arguing thats what was best for you. But the thought of fully giving you up to anybody else angered him. You weren’t his but you’d always been in some way, his. He yearned to be near you again, an itch in the back of his mind only you could scratch.
⋆˙⟡♡ He drunk, a lot. Spent his free time as Bruce Wayne drowning in whiskey and scotch, heavy liquor bottles empty and discarded on the floor. He almost felt like crying, but he’d just pass out on his bed, too drunk to crawl under the covers. Sometimes he’d pass out in the common room, leg hanging off the couch and hair unraveled, Alfred cleaning up the mess and putting a blanket over him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He drowned himself in his work to distract from you. He was frustrated, angry, weeks having gone by without you having set him on edge. He was beating petty criminals to a bloody pulp, sending them to Gordon barely conscious. He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. Alfred would just sigh when a bloody Bruce would storm past him, ensuring his suit was cleaned before the next day.
⋆˙⟡♡ It was a late Friday night when Bruce let his anger take control of him. It was some petty thief thinking he’d run off with the bags of cash he’d stolen. Bruce didn’t let him speak, anger taking over him like thick ropes of lava in his blood, anger that had festered in his black heart for weeks, simmering under his skin waiting for the moment it could boil over.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was bloody and dirty when he came to you in a blur of anger and love, adrenaline running through him with a determination boiling in his bones.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ It was a dark cloudy night when you saw Bruce standing outside your window; you lay in bed, cozy and under the covers, bathed in the dim golden light of your lamp. You were pretending to read a book you’ve meant to finish with a frown on your face, mind full of memories and the fruitless desire to have it all back. It was a melancholic pain that throbbed under your skin, sharp and persistent like a plant rash, the memory of forgotten things plaguing your mind and wishing it could just all go back to the way it was.
You almost didn’t see him if it wasn’t for the thud on your fire escape; you jumped and the book flew to the floor with a thud. Your eyes widened and you felt a wave of excitement and relief flourish through your veins as you scrambled off your bed. You couldn’t believe it, heart pounding as you rushed over to your window and swung it open like an eager baker opening an oven door. It was a big window, one with a giant view of the street below and the park across the ways, big enough to fit a grown man in a heavy suit.
Your hands were almost frantic, eyes wide in disbelief to just see him standing there in all his glory, back to you like he used to be all those weeks ago before he left, left you, left you behind. The memory of his loss and betrayal flashed back like a pull to reality, all those sad feelings you pushed away coming full frontal in your head like a tidal wave in your fragile brain.
Bruce’s heavy stare burned through you and it was like you could feel it on your skin, like a million microscopic bugs crawling all over you, your body buzzing with electricity and your hands almost shaking. You felt a flurry of difficult emotions coursing through you that all muddled together in one big mess in your head; anger and happiness, relief and irritation. You couldn’t pinpoint on one, feeling everything all at once when you opened your window and Batman was stood on the other side of you in all his threatening grandness.
You hated that he looked so good despite the grime.
You were left stunned as all you could do was stare at him. This was a moment you’ve only dreamt about, wished for for days and countless weeks, fantasized about for hours on end. How you would react, what you would say, how it would all go… and especially how he’d apologize on hand and knee for you, atone for his sins and plead for your pardon. It was all meticulously planned and carefully thought out, and now here it was, the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long; it was finally here, staring at you in the face. And it was so funny how all those ideas and all that confidence you had just seemed to vanish now that it was time to confront them; you were frozen as you stared back at him, unsure of what to do next and too tongue tied to formulate a thought. All that planning, pointless in the face of its precipitant.
Bruce stared back at you longingly and painfully, breaths hard and heavy and knuckles bruised and sore. His eyes were smeared in that black paint he always used, thick with an unspoken emotional torture, like he was being tormented in his own mind at the mere sight of you. He was in a way; you were his reminder of why he left, the catalyst of his destruction but at the same time his anecdote. It was all very confusing and contradictory; all he could understand was that it pained him to look at you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look away.
Blood was splattered over his cheeks and suit, his heart pumping in his ears as he looked you over, putting all the pieces of you back in his mind; from your face, to your pink pajamas, to the black socks on your feet, then back to your cautious eyes. You were all right, you were okay and he was so relieved. He felt a weight drop from his chest, knowing you were in no certain danger but he always worried for you if he couldn’t see you, a consequence of everyone he cared for always getting hurt some way or another. Bruce felt what he could only describe as happiness, a feeling he only got with you, hit him full on like a train, smacking into his heart as his throat closed up.
He had missed you.
He had missed you a lot, more than he ever wanted to admit, but he would gladly do so for you. He had missed your pretty eyes and sweet voice, soft hands and smooth skin, and your voice, calming and rich like honeyed pastries. You were beautiful to him, so beautiful, and he couldn’t believe he had shown up here once more, that he would risk ever putting it in danger. But he had to come, he couldn’t take it anymore… and if his love for you was that perilous then his soul be damned.
He noticed the subtle way your face crumbled as your initial excitement died down, settled into pain and sadness and concern; your eyes running over the blood on him, wondering if it was his, really looking at him and realizing that he was really here, back on your fire escape. He couldn’t believe it himself, but here he was and he didn’t plan on leaving, not unless you ordered him to. You were nervous, eager to touch him, feel the suit under your palms like you used to, but you were also too stubborn to welcome him back into your home so easily, hurt once and not wanting to be hurt again. He understood that notion all too well.
Bruce felt an unfamiliar form of courage jolting through him, a type of courage so different from the one he used to fight criminals every night. This was a type of boldness that made him just want to grab your face and kiss you, hard, make up for all the lost time between you and spill all his confessions in the space between his lips and yours, make you taste the apology on his tongue. All he wanted was to be here again, here in your room; his nose was already filling up with the smell of vanilla bean and raspberry, his muscles relaxing instinctively at the sweet smell of it, knowing he was safe here. He wanted so badly to be here again, but now that he was he didn’t know what to do.
Bruce admitted that he was a little disappointed at your reaction to him, that you didn’t welcome him back in with open arms and gleeful smiles, kiss him and hug him and show him how much you missed him. But he knew that was too optimistic. He knew your antipathy was to be expected; he could only imagine the amount of hurt he’d put you through if it was anything compared to his own. He could only imagine how many nights you came home hoping he was there, waiting for you like he always did, how many days you kept looking at the clock, wishing it would hurry up and you could just go home already, how many days you hoped it would be different from the one before, how much hope he must’ve killed.
He felt horrible, regret and guilt spinning in his stomach as his muscles twitched, itching to touch you again; you were a drug coursing through his veins, and after two months of withdrawal he could say he was positively hooked once more. But, he knew he couldn’t just grab whatever part of you he liked like a greedy child in a toy store. He needed patience, he needed to wait for you to warm up to him on your own terms, no matter how long that took.
So, Bruce just stood on your fire escape with his hands holding the frame of the wall, blood and vanilla heavy on his nose as he stared at you, breathing hard but calm, waiting for you to make a move, any move or semblance of invitation.
Your eyes ran over the blood on him, the awkward silence deafening with all the unspoken words and yearning you both wanted so badly to address. Your eyes narrowed at the red spots and stripes on his suit and face, dripping off his gloves, worry shooting through your buzzing veins. You took a step back away from him in discontent, curious as to why he has suddenly appeared after so long away, eyes looking him over like the situation has really dawned on you. It had been weeks, two months even, since you’ve seen him, seen his black eyes and pointed ears, seen the vague Batman symbol on the chest piece of his suit.
Memories were coming back wave after wave at the sight of him, ones that wanted you to embrace him, ones that were gradually persuading you to give up this act and just be thankful he was here again, back to you. But you knew better than that, knew better than to just simply overlook a mistake as monumental as the one he made. You needed to have some damn pride.
Despite that…
Were you happy to see him? Yes, yes you really really were. You wanted him to just take off his mask and kiss you already, hell, you didn’t care if he left it on because you just wanted him to kiss you again. You wanted to feel his big arms around you once more and feel his warm palms on the dip in your back. Have him lift you up and smile into his kiss and say those magical words you yearned to hear. You could try to act tough all you wanted but at the end of the day you were still just a girl, a sad girl who wanted to be held by the man she missed so much… but your anger was still so present, lingering cold in your veins and greatly overpowering any positive emotions you had.
You wanted a damn good reason for why he did what he did.
“What are you doing here, Bruce? I thought you had moved on.” You licked your dry lips, crossing your arms and glaring at him with distaste and a false sense of confidence, a faux act of strength and apathy to cover up the real pain you felt. Your tone was anything but friendly, standoffish and disinterested, conveying the anger you felt almost perfectly; if it wasn’t for the waver in your voice and the glimmer in your eye you would even believe yourself.
You frowned at him, a cruel part of you hoping he was feeling any kind of hurt, any kind of hurt like the hurt you’ve felt. But at the same time, you just wanted so badly to hear that he came back for one reason and one reason alone. You. You wanted to hear him say that he missed you dearly, that he was so sorry for what he did and that he’d never do it again. If you heard that, then maybe, just maybe, you’d forgive him. No, you definitely would.
Bruce almost flinched at your tone, but knew it was well deserved. He looked at you with guilty eyes, like he’d committed the most heinous crime (which in his mind, he did), frown deep on his lips where a cut was on his skin, swallowing down the nerves in his throat at the look in your eyes.
A string of fear curled in his chest and made him nervous, made Batman nervous, a fear of being rejected, of him telling you how he really felt and you not reciprocating it. He couldn’t bear it, the uncertainty. But he was also afraid of hurting you any more than he already has, arguing with himself that he shouldn’t have come. But he was already here and he couldn’t leave now, couldn’t disappoint you any more than he already has. He looked up at you, his chest fluttering when he looked into your eyes.
“‘Could never move on from you…” Bruce grumbled in that deep voice of his, sounding pained and earnest and genuine, pulling at your heart like a trained harpist and making your eyes burn with brimming tears. He meant it, meant it more than you knew, staring at you with so much emotion in his eyes it almost scared you to see it; it was so unlike him to be so emotional, a part of you grateful that he trusted you enough to show it.
You felt a tingle on your skin when you looked back at him, a spark of joy peeking through the dark clouds around you. I could never move on from you…
Bruce’s dark eyes flickered between yours, gauging your reactions, intense and brooding as they always were. They bore into you like he was laying your soul bare in front of him, seeing deeper inside of you than you thought was possible. It made you feel flustered and agitated at being examined so fiercely. His voice, my god his voice, so soft but so gravelly, made you flustered, especially hearing it again after so many weeks of going without it. It washed over your skin like a warm blanket and made goosebumps pop up on your arms, a chill going through your spine that made your heart spike. You were trying so hard to fight it, fight that feeling inside of you that wanted him so badly.
You almost scoffed at his proclamation, looking at him offended, almost too theatrically, too rehearsed.
“Well it seems like you did, so.” You shrugged stubbornly, not knowing what else to say, really, not wanting to speak too much or else you’re afraid he’d hear the longing stutter in your voice. You shook your head incredulously and looked at the wall besides the window, where he stood outside in the cold air still. Secretly, you wanted to bring him inside already, bring him between your arms and hold him against your chest until he was one with you, unable to leave and bound to you forever, souls entwined and breaths shared. That may be a tad dramatic, but that’s what you felt; you knew he needed to cross that barrier on his own… you also knew that the moment he stepped back into your sacred space, the moment his heavy black boot stepped onto your wooden floor, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure anymore, and you’d collapse in his arms like a dying bride.
Obviously, that couldn’t happen. You needed resistance, strength, a reason.
You couldn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the tears welling in your eyes and the vulnerability staining your face. It was too embarrassing and too real; you didn’t want Bruce to see how easily you got worked up because of him. You didn’t want him to see all of you just yet, wanted him to feel guilty for what he did to you. He hadn’t even said much, just a single sentence, and you were already a desperate mess hiding under a false security. It was always so easy for him to get to you and you wished you were stronger for it.
Bruce knit his eyebrows at that, subtly shaking his head with a frown as his eyes still searched for yours. He wanted you to look at him, to see the honesty in his words and the sincerity in his blue eyes. He wanted you to see that he was hurting too, just as much as you.
“I didn’t… I just needed some time away… I needed to think.” He confessed vaguely, his voice gentle like he didn’t want to spook you, quiet but just loud enough for you to hear. Bruce always treated you like you were so fragile, a slippery glass vase between his clumsy hands. He never wanted to drop you, hurt you and watch you crumble into a million pieces… but he already did, and now he was trying to glue them all back together, put you back together, but only if you’d let him.
That was something you had come to appreciate about him; his gentleness, so opposite of the image he represented, what everyone believed him to be. He wasn’t just Batman, vengeful and harsh and dangerous. He wasn’t just bloody fists and sharp edges. He was incredibly genuine and tender, complex and multilayered; he was more than the bat, the symbol, the orphan, the millionaire. He was intricately sewn together with all different threads, and over the course of the year you and Bruce shared together you’ve managed to pluck and pull them all, see the warm center inside his cold shell.
Those were sides of him only you got to see, only you got to witness, only you got the privilege to marvel at and cherish. It might have been foolish to think, and you certainly think so now, but you had thought that made you special, that you were the only one he trusted enough, cared for enough, to show that side to… that there was more affection sizzling between you than you both wanted to say… but that just made it hurt so much more when he left, it just convinced you that you were too gullible for love, too naive to tell the difference between love and infatuation. When he left, he made you feel stupid.
You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, your face twisting into an anger Bruce didn’t want to see. Your eyes flashed to him immediately, burning and piercing and blazing, his words bouncing around in your head like a twisted game of racquetball. To think? He left, for months, because he needed to think? It sounded so phony, a simple excuse to disguise the truth, a simple excuse that only angered your unspoken pain.
“To think? To think about what? You’ve been gone for weeks, Bruce! You just left, didn’t tell me anything, didn’t tell me why, but now you’re telling me it’s because you had to think? That sounds ridiculous. I think I deserve a better explanation than, you had to think.” You mocked him, scoffing in his face. You were frustrated and lonely, wanting, deserving, a better reason to justify the pain you went through when he left. You couldn’t believe he couldn’t at least grant you that, a credible reason why.
Bruce grimaced, eyes closing like the sting of your words had just stung him. He slouched, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get the words out that he wanted to. They were stuck in his throat, itching his tongue and wanting so badly to get out, but he was mute, could only try to explain himself. Besides, there were no words to express just how sorry he was, but he knew how right you were. You were always right. You did deserve more than that, you deserved a better explanation.
Bruce swallowed down his dry throat, clenching his jaw as he looked back up at you, aching to step through the threshold of the window and grab your face between his broken hands and kiss your tears away. He felt hot coils of guilt and regret wrap around his heart and squeeze, his chest collapsing in on itself.
“I-I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. I needed to think… and to do that I had to leave. I just needed to understand why.” He spoke raspy, voice gritted with anguish and sincerity, looking at you with such desperation it made your foot itch to step towards him, made your heart yearn to comfort him. He was downright pitiful, fingers holding onto the brick so hard it could crumble under his strength. He was slouched down, looking up at you with sunken eyes, begging and pleading without an ounce of shame.
You stared back at him, clenching your jaw so hard your teeth hurt. God, you really did just want to hold him again, kiss him again… the need was too much, burning inside you and crawling under your skin. You had your hands crossed over your chest like you were physically trying to hold yourself back, like you were trying to protect yourself against his woeful whims of persuasion.
You frowned at his statement, the rational part of your brain that was still logical and loyal to you making you want to question him more, learn more, find out more. Your shoulders slumped as you looked back at him confused, lips pulled in a frown.
“Why what? Think about what? Can you stop being so vague!” You said exasperated, wishing he would just say what he meant and stop being so damn secretive all the time. Especially now, especially here. He was the one who showed up here after all this time and now he was trying to just sneak by with it. You refused to let him, forced him to confront his own dilemma. You couldn’t see it any other way, blinded by your own rose colored rage that needed an explanation.
Bruce grit his teeth, working up the nerve to answer you as he looked down at your feet, looking physically pained. He wanted to tell you why, he wanted to tell you why so badly, but just as soon as he wanted to say it he was found at a loss for words, struck with that same fear again that made his words stutter. That same fear of being rejected, ridiculed, that fear of putting his heart on his sleeve and having you pierce it with a silver dagger. He was Batman, the shadow of shadows who dealt with worse pain than you could ever imagine. He’s been shot, stabbed, cut up, pushed out of a window, and any other horror you could ever imagine but somehow… none of that hurt would ever compare to the pain caused by your rejection.
You had the power to destroy him and you didn’t even know it. You didn’t know how much of him you carried with you, how easily you could make him fall. Against Gotham he was the Dark Knight, relentless, strong and menacing, capable of things you didn’t want to think about. Against you… he was nothing, powerless, a twig in your hand you could crush without a thought. He was weak against your beauteous thrall and he just wished he could’ve admitted that to himself so much sooner.
Bruce felt his heart constrict, his palms suddenly clammy and his throat suddenly dry; he swallowed roughly. His own heart pounded in his ears, beating under his hot skin, the reality of what he was about to say hitting him full force and he felt like he could pass out, right here on your fire escape, light headed and heavy chested.
He let out a big breath through his nose, gripping the wall between his bloody gloved hands, mustering up the confidence he needed and pushing his fear down, down and deep so it couldn’t be acknowledged anymore. He smothered his insecurities and doubts like a candle wick, clenched his jaw and cleared the smoke from his mind. Bruce looked up at you, eyes glimmering like fire light as they looked over your form once more. He looked up from your socks and your feet, up to your smooth legs and pink nightgown, up to your face, where he focused intently on your lips and nose and eyes.
You looked back at him, where he was staring at you with a type of ferocity and intensity it had your breath stuck in your throat, chills going down your spine.
“…Why I was in love with you.”
You swore your heart stopped.
Tumblr media
╰✦・゚✵ 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈: how it all fell together 𓂃⊹
⋆˙⟡♡ Of course, you loved him back, and Bruce couldn’t have been happier about it. But, during the actual relationship he was very much still the same, but you could see that he was trying to be closer to you, it was just hard for him. You helped him, made him feel not so scared.
⋆˙⟡♡ You were patient with him, never judged or pushed him to do things you knew he had a hard time doing. He always wanted to talk to you about his parents but he would stop himself before he went in depth about it. That was something he needed time with, and you understood it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always doing small things for you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so focused on him. He would always smooth out your pillows for you, make you breakfast and be shy that he made something you didn’t like, he would even blow out your candle for you if you ever left it lit. He would give you small gifts, sometimes expensive, a bracelet or a necklace, a set of earrings his mother adored. You loved them all.
⋆˙⟡♡ You had to buy him those vanilla bean and raspberry candles you had. He set them up around his home because the smell reminded him of you and your house, his safe space.
⋆˙⟡♡ He still didn’t like to talk, but he loved to listen. He’d ask questions that were deeply intimate and personal because he wanted to know everything about you. He’d apologize for prodding but he really had no shame about it. He wanted to know you more, learn everything.
⋆˙⟡♡ He loved holding you in his sleep, you made his nightmares go away and made him feel less lonely. He would still flinch sometimes, keep his hands at appropriate distances away from your precious parts. He was a gentleman, that was for sure.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t sleep a lot still, so he’d always stare at you when you slept, brush his hand on your cheek when he’d leave in his Batman suit for the night. He hated leaving you, but knew he had responsibilities to his city he couldn’t abandon.
⋆˙⟡♡ He introduced you to Alfred, rather, Alfred went to clean up Bruce’s room early in the morning and found you two in a rather compromising position. He just chuckled and walked out while Bruce awkwardly scrambled to compose himself. You were mortified.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce liked to draw you a lot, most of the time from memory when he was bored on a late night, sitting on a rooftop with charcoal scratching on ripped paper. He didn’t show them to you, but you found them anyway.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce was soft, gentle with you, but sex was a different story, just depended on his day. Most of the time he was sweet, making up for leaving you and hurting you. He always carried so much guilt about it, even when you told him you were over it and understood why he did it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He didn’t come out with you as a couple to the press, as Bruce Wayne. He didn’t want them to badger you and question you, make you feel uncomfortable. He came to you a lot, his house was always under constant scrutiny from the public.
⋆˙⟡♡ He threatened your boss when you refused to quit your job. It was late, he was Batman, and your boss just so happened to walk past him. Bruce threw him against the wall with promises of pain if he didn’t treat you right. You had a sneaky suspicion your boyfriend had something to do with your now positive work atmosphere and sudden raise, but decided not to question him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was always touching you, or kissing you, hesitant to show outright affection so he was subtle when he did it. A hand on your lower back, hovering over your jacket or gently pressing into it. A hand on your arm, a peck on your forehead, a kiss to your cheek when you’d fall asleep.
⋆˙⟡♡ He told you he loved you every night, rarely ever during the day. It was in his bed or yours, when it was silent and cozy, he’d whisper it in your hair or against your skin, and you’d smile and tell him the same.
⋆˙⟡♡ You never expected anything from him besides his love, but he always felt like he owed you something, grateful that you gave him this chance to be with you despite what he did.
⋆˙⟡♡ He was constantly worried about you, on edge when you would be out by yourself or come home later than usual on the nights he couldn’t see you. He would always think the worst, think you were dead and he was too late, someone found him out and was using you to blackmail him. All the worst scenarios to prepare himself for the worst outcomes.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is constantly having negative intrusive thoughts. You’ll leave him, he doesn’t deserve you, he should’ve stayed gone. He’ll go quiet and try to isolate himself when that happens, so you always try and support him and reassure him in any way you can.
⋆˙⟡♡ He still has such a hard time being vulnerable and talking about his past, but he tries with you. He’ll get tongue tied sometimes or a sentence will drift off before he can finish it, but he’ll try.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce is always so busy he forgets to eat. You’ll constantly remind him food is good for you. So, some days he’ll go eating nothing at all, despite you and Alfred’s insistence. But when he does, it’s a big feast Alfred prepares for him.
⋆˙⟡♡ He is very sweet, a complete gentleman. He has the best manners. He always says his pleases and his thank yous. He’ll follow a question with, when you have a chance, if you can. With Alfred though he’ll be so distracted he’ll just walk away. He doesn’t mean to, just makes sure he’s extra gentle with you.
⋆˙⟡♡ He likes black and white films to play in the background when he’s not doing anything. Or slow, almost gothic music to really set the tone. He’s emo like that and I just know it.
⋆˙⟡♡ He goes to Alfred a lot for relationship advice, scared he’ll mess up and you’ll leave him. He wants to avoid making mistakes with you, so he’ll ask for help or reassurance on what to do.
⋆˙⟡♡ Bruce has a tendency to ignore any problem until it goes away, especially to avoid a fight with you. He’s confrontational when it comes to you, so he’ll let you have your way a lot of the time. He doesn’t like to fight with you.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ Bruce was sweet and shy, always making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He never judged you when you’d tell him your stories or your past, he never accused you of things, and he never raised his voice at you when things would get frustrating. He loved you too much, appreciated you too much. You had no idea how happy you made him even if his face didn’t show it.
He was still wary, scared you’ll leave him, scared one of his enemies will find you out and take you away from him. But he was always there, watching and protecting, hiding in the shadows, being the shadow, on the nights you didn’t know. He may have been Gotham’s protector, but he was also yours.
He loved you and was grateful for you, so grateful he met you when he did and that you trusted him enough to let him see every lovely part of you. He vowed to protect you, to cherish you, and he made good on that promise. Even going as far as to blow out your candle every day before you’d leave for work. Couldn’t have you burning your house down, now could he?
Tumblr media
Honestly, I could go on and on about this man so I think I have to end this here. But thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed, especially @diavolosbaby who requested this. I really hope you like it, and if you’re not satisfied or I didn’t answer your ask correctly then don’t be afraid to tell me 💕💕 constructive criticism isn’t bad mmkay ☺️💕
Tumblr media Tumblr media
337 notes · View notes
navstuffs · 2 years
Note
i love ur account so much!
could you maybe do a robert pattinson x reader (fem)
where y/n is a very famous singer and she’s doing a concert while singing a song she wrote about rob while he’s in the crowd and she takes him to the stage at the end of the song?
Falling for you
Pairing: Robert Pattinson x Female Famous Singer!Reader
Warning: none, pure fluff
Summary: (Y/N) surprises Robert during her first concert in her new tour.
Authors note: hiii, thank you so much for your request. i apologize for taking so long, i had an idea in mind and then changed it again! i hope you enjoy it <3
Tumblr media
If (Y/N) was Robert's number one fan, Robert was her number one fan: he knew all her songs, had all deluxe albums signed and always went to her concerts if he could. During her England Tour, he couldn't look prouder, going to all her shows. (Y/N)'s fans would always snatch a picture of him trying to be disguise himself in the middle of the crowd, usually with a cap and beard. Robert tried to dress as simple as he could so he didn't take attention from (Y/N).
Robert was called by (Y/N)'s fans "The President" of her fan club. And although he was very good at hiding it, he would fangirl at every new song. Robert actually had to ask her to not show any new song before the official release, since he didn't want to be spoiled.
Which was the case with (Y/N)'s new album. Robert wasn't surprised when she topped sales around the world. His girlfriend was a very talented musician (more than him) and had very dedicated fans. Her new tour would start in Europe, her first concert in London (some fans even thanked Robert on Twitter) before (Y/N)'s tour would go around the world. Robert was very excited to see what she was preparing and he was sure it would be great.
-x-
When (Y/N) entered the stage, the excited screams were loud. It was always emotional for (Y/N) how many people loved her and her art. She couldn't be more grateful for doing what she loved and being successful in it.
"Hi, London, how are we doing tonight?" Excited screams answered. She smiled at them, making her fans cheer even louder than before. (Y/N) always tried to look in their faces for a second or so as she sang and paid very close attention to the crowd.
The concert was a huge success. (Y/N) had given her all and in the middle of the concert, bought some fans on stage to sing with her like she always did it. The critics would be acclaiming (Y/N) tomorrow, depicting how vibrant and powerful she looked the entire time, Robert just knew it. It had to be one of his favorite Top Five Concerts of (Y/N). The fans probably got one or two videos of him dancing, embarrassing himself.
It was time for the last song. Robert watched as (Y/N) brought her guitar out, the one he gave her on their last anniversary. She waited until the crowd calmed down to speak.
"I want to thank you all for coming here today. You know, I say this many times but none of this would be possible without you, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart" More cheers from the crowd. "Let me just say something about this next song: it is actually going to be a bonus soundtrack on the new album that I haven't released yet so- yes yes, bring your phones out, everyone, if you want."
Part of the crowd -and Robert- rushed between shock and getting their phones out.
"And this song, well, I dedicate to someone very important to me. He didn't know about the existence of this song so I am sure he will be very surprised as well. It is about us. It is about who we were before and who we are now. I can't thank you enough for you to walk in my life and love me as much as you do. Robert, this is Falling for you."
Robert stared at (Y/N), enchanted. It was like the crowd didn't matter anymore or the multiple phones in his direction instead of hers. There was just him and (Y/N) in that empty stadium. She was putting so much emotion in that song, so much love he could feel it on his body, warming with her love. Robert couldn't take his eyes off her. He couldn't be prouder, couldn't be happier, couldn't be more in love with (Y/N) than right now.
When the song was over, it was like he was back on Earth. (Y/N) was saying something he couldn't quite comprehend yet, still affected by her voice, but soon someone from her team appeared, saying in his ear she was inviting him to the stage, no pressure to accept but if he was fine going. Robert agreed. When the crowd realized what was happening they went insane, as Robert walked toward the stage, surrounded by security.
(Y/N) felt anxious she was putting them under too much pressure when she invited him to the stage. She knew how reserved Rob could be about them, about their particular life. When she saw him being helped get up on the stage and walk in her direction to hug her, she was happy.
"I should have come more well dressed if I knew you were going invite me up here." Robert whispered in her ear, while they ignored all the screams behind him.
"Sorry, Rob. You are still the prettiest man in this place." (Y/N) comforted him. They broke apart, (Y/N) holding him on his hip.
"Robert Pattinson everyone! Needless to say but my boyfriend."
Robert knew they were going to be the first cover of every single magazine, journal, and article tomorrow morning. He had been wanting to do something since she started singing their song, his song, so why not make things worse?
"Can I kiss you?" He whispered in her ear, getting a surprised stare from his girlfriend that rapidly became a smile and a nod.
They kissed in front of the entire stage making the stadium vibrate with loud cheers of happiness. For a minute in their romantic kiss, they were just (Y/N) and Robert. There was no sound, nothing, just two people in love with each other. When they broke apart, (Y/N) wished a Goodnight. The fans seemed to wish them to stay longer, but (Y/N) grabbed Robert by his hand and exited backstage.
"We are crazy you know that?" (Y/N) started, already in her dressing room, putting a fluffy white robe over her outfit. They had to ask for privacy from her team so they could stay alone.
"People will be upset with you, (Y/N)" Robert stated as the most obvious thing in the world, splattered on the sofa, watching her remove her make-up.
"And why is that?"
"All the other fans on tour. They got a kiss tonight from us and others won't get anything. You might get sued for that, love."
"Very funny, Rob." She answered, sitting on his lap. She looked exhausted but still looked so pretty.
"You looked so damn good tonight. Powerful. Vibrant. Badass. Happy. And our song...you almost made me cry, love. People will be posting on how crazy I looked for you and how you made me cry."
"Is that bad?" (Y/N) asked, getting comfortable on his lap, his arms holding tightly to her body. She knew she needed to shower and get proper rest but she just needed a few minutes in Robert's arms.
"Of course not. Everyone knows I am crazy in love with you anyway." Robert replied, kissing the top of her head. (Y/N) had closed her eyes and he knew he shouldn't let her sleep, (Y/N) hated resting sweaty/dirty, but she looked so peaceful. He would give her at least ten minutes, before waking her. She deserved those. Robert knew he also needed those as well before her World Tour, so he let himself rest, holding (Y/N) tightly in his arms.
Taglist: @uwiuwi
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
186 notes · View notes
yeollie-plz · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
☾Devils Roll The Dice, Angels Roll Their Eyes☆
A Robert Pattinson moodboard created by yeollie_plz
Tumblr media
All pics found on Pinterest and all credits to owners!
Image Descriptions:
1. Black and white image or Robert Pattinson in a suit.
2. Black and white image of a stone hand holding flowers.
3. Black and white image of a girl (Zendaya) in a dark dress.
4. Black and white image of Robert Pattinson sitting at a table on a balcony.
5. Black and white image of a male angel and female kissing.
6. Black and white image of Robert Pattinson smoking.
7. Black and white image of the back of a girl in a dark dress against a wall.
8. Black and white image of a hand with a butterfly on the pointer finger.
9. Black and white image of Robert Pattinson running a hand through his hair
Tumblr media
9 notes · View notes
sherberrt · 5 months
Text
Light in the Dark || Bruce Wayne x F! Reader
Tumblr media
Hiring someone to help Alfred had not been what they had in mind since....a certain someone had a big secret, but Alfred insisted since Dory retired. So they got to vetting interested parties when they finally found one. And she was not what they expected, she was much more.
Warnings: Gun use, fighting, blood. Very brief.
Note: No spoilers for the movie. Takes place afterwards. Catwoman was an ally only, no inkling of love. This is a really long one-shot (15k word count). Didn't feel right to split it up. So please enjoy.
She believed it was the right address, yet she couldn't fathom just how tall the Wayne Tower truly was. Being new to town, but not new to its behavior was still quite the challenge. After reporting to the security downstairs and just before going up the elevator to the top floor, the ride was nerve-racking. As the numbers ticked higher, so did her heart-rate. She even started to do a mental checklist through her bag to make sure she had everything she needed. On the last note, the door finally opened to reveal an awe-inspiring foyer. Its gothic nature felt like it would swallow her whole. She imagined just how much more terrifying it could be if there had not been so much hushed whispers going around. Of course she would not be the only applicant for the House Keeper. She checked in with a secretary just beyond the rest and waited patiently until her turn. Slowly, with each passing minute more people went in and came out till finally she was the only one left, even the secretary finally left leaving her in the underbelly of the foyer. An older gentleman appear from around the corner instead. When he spotted her, he gave a small jump, but quickly hid it. "I apologize, miss. I must have missed you on my list. How long have you been waiting?"
"Oh, its no problem, sir. Not too long really. Your secretary just left a few minutes ago."
"Well they must have forgotten to inform me of our last candidate. Please come in and have a seat. I am, Mr. Alfred Pennyworth." (Y/n) followed him into a small study just beyond a set of doors and if she thought the foyer was impressive, she hadn't seen anything as magnificent as the small archive here. She couldn't help but gaze at the wall-high shelves matching with the windows. The fireplace maw was as big as her with stone blending into the wooden floors. Alfred showed her to the desk set up just near the window.
"Would you like anything to drink before we start? Tea, water?"
"Water's fine. Thank you." "Ms. (L/n), is it? You have quite the resume here."
"Oh. Thank you, sir. Perks of being a military baby."
"Military?"
"Yes. My father. He was in the airforce. We traveled quite a bit before finally being able to settle down in a small rural town."
"Ah, if only I could do the same." He had the briefest smile. Before he scanned her resume again.
"Are you new to Gotham?"
"Yes and no. My father was born and raised here, when he joined the military, he never looked back. Even stationed here ironically because he was local, but not for too long."
"I see. I must imagine you have heard then of Gotham's reputation. If you have seen so much of the world, why come here for work?"
"Well, intrigue I suppose. I wanted to learn more about where my father was from. He never liked talking about it, I understood why, but I wanted to see for myself. Get my own understanding." She started to believe she may have said something wrong, when he fell silent. Only staring at her, if she was honest, it was unnerving. It felt like he was reading right into her soul. Yet as he gave a brief smirk, he could only nod.
"I see. Thank you, Ms. (L/n). We will contact you soon about our final decision. I shall see you out." They shook hands as he led her back to the elevator and after thanking him, when the doors shut, she let out a huge sigh of relief. Her heart was pounding. She could tell he was trying to gauge the type of person she was. He was hiring for a billionaire CEO of one of the biggest names in Gotham. With any luck maybe she made a good impression, but everyone that was there seemed so much more confident, dressed nicer, even had a longer interview than her.
Maybe she was too honest? Maybe she overshared? When the doors opened again, she waved to the security and bid them goodnight she exited the tower and started to type in her hotel address when an unknown number flashed across her screen.
"Hello?"
"Ms. (L/n). This is Alfred, I believe we found our new House Keeper. When will you be able to start?" It took everything in her body to not hop around in the instant before she caught her words.
"As soon as you need me, sir."
"How does this Thursday around 10 in the morning sound? We can discuss more of your employment when you arrive."
"Sounds lovely, sir. Thank you, sir!"
"We shall see you soon." After the click, she couldn't help but dance and hop at the good news. She had more pep in her step as she bid goodnight to her first night in Gotham.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce's POV
"I believe she is the best of all. She was genuine, I couldn't see any hint of a lie. She may not even have it in her to do so. Looking into her background, her father had quite the honorary record while her mother was a museum curator. The mother passing five years ago while the father two years ago. She became a bit of a recluse after his death, but record shows her helping the town she grew up in afterwards. Sounds like someone I know..."
"Alfred, I trust you. My scans didn't pick anything up on her. She has no ties to anyone here except for her father."
"Then I shall call for her to start work. It'll be nice to have an extra set of hands around here, since you've been busy keeping yours down the throats of thugs." He could feel the knowing gaze on his back without needing to look at his guardian.
"Alfred-"
"I know, it is for the good of Gotham and your family legacy. But as I've said, even Batman needs a break. Goodnight, Master Bruce."
Once Alfred left up the elevator he was tracking the girl through the elevator as they spoke. Unlike everyone else, she had no interest in him whatsoever. She was a bundle of nerves once she was out of Alfred's sight. Once she was outside she stopped to answer her phone, no doubt Alfred giving her the good news and when she hung up, she began to...dance?
Perhaps they didn't dig far enough into her records.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n)'s POV
Thursday arrived much quicker than she anticipated. Even while waiting she was able to explore the city during the day and little in the night. She didn't test her luck on that front. She started to hear more about the vigilante that saved Gotham not too long ago from the serial killer called the Riddler. Batman was his name and just based on articles alone, she couldn't help but be glad he was around. He had quite the record for good deeds.
When she arrived back, Alfred greeted her in the lobby of the tower showing her up.
"Parts of the employment that I wished to discuss with you involved your duties and the expectation of them. Since Mr. Wayne is in the cross-hairs of the public eye, his privacy is of the utmost importance to him so you will need to sign many different contracts regarding this. We will have a lawyer available to answer any questions you have about these. Beyond this, you will be living in house in one of our guest rooms-"
"Wait? Like here here? I couldn't possibly intrude like that."
"There is no need to worry, if you feel this is beyond your comfort you have no need to accept, it can be discussed further. No matter what, you're necessary living expenses will be paid for regardless. That part I'm afraid is not up for negotiations. Mr. Wayne made that part very clear."
"That's very kind and generous of him. I will thank him in person hopefully."
"He's lingering around here somewhere, but please follow me. We have much more to show you and papers to sign." The tour took another hour before they settled in the library she took her interview. The lawyer sat looking over the documents for her to sign and answered all her questions as they reached the end of their discussion. Alfred left her to wonder afterwards just to get her bearings after the overload of information. Living here will be quite the adjustment for her.
Her shoes on the wood echoed across the halls when she came upon the locked up room. Alfred had told her this was Bruce's parents. It was off limits along with the basement. She understood that pain of losing a parent, but not quite so young. She hadn't met this Bruce just yet and she already felt sympathy for him.
A family portrait hung not too far with smaller photos littering the table below. They all matched elegantly in black and white their smiles hiding a constant laughter between them. She recognized the love from them as their closeness was resembled in the painting. The small boy had such a spark in his eye, almost mischievous. She could see the love from his parents who held him and each other dearly. Perhaps she can make an small gesture for them allowing her into their home. Flowers perhaps?
Alfred found her not too long afterwards to show her to her room. As they walked she saw him look fondly on the painting before a smile graced his lips.
After her first night she was excited to get started. No one seemed to be awake yet as she was alone in the kitchen. She started to make some breakfast like her mom taught her, she wasn't sure what they liked so she started to cook a little bit of everything she knew. It was then Alfred finally stepped through.
"My word, I could smell it from my room. My dear girl, what is all this?"
"Oh, Mr. Pennyworth-"
"Alfred, please. No need for formalities here."
"Alfred, well I didn't know what you guys liked, so I made a little bit of everything." She fixed Alfred a plate and then another for Bruce whenever he showed.
"Oh, well, you may want to store that, Master Bruce is quite the late sleeper." She only nodded and began to clean up after all the cooking when she began making a list. She didn't quite have everything yet she needed while living here.
"Alfred, small question. Is there any flower allergies I should be worried about with Mr. Wayne or yourself?"
"Flowers?" His expression was quizzical at this, but (Y/n) could only smile.
"I was just wondering if putting flowers around would maybe mess with anyone. I wanted to give this place a little bit of color."
"Oh I see. No allergies here. You'll find the cards on the table by the elevator, just pick one and keep the receipts once you've picked up what you need."
"Oh, I could cover it's no problem."
"Don't be silly, dear. Master Bruce won't mind. I can say this place does need some livening up."
"Ok then. I'll watch what I spend though. Promise." After bidding goodbye to Alfred she got ready and went out for the day. Because of the tower's location she could get to everything relatively quickly without taking a cab. The florist was blooming with a wide range, she decided a classic bit of white roses, sage, and baby's breath. Once arriving back, she set the biggest bouquet she made in front of the Wayne family portrait. She adjusted bits when she heard footsteps approaching.
"Alfred, what do you think of these, the florist said these were quite-" When she turned, Alfred was no where, only a tall dark shadow who towered her.
"Oh, hi! You must be, Mr. Wayne." He looked straight passed her at the flowers she placed there.
"Oh yes, the flowers. Alfred told me of your parents. Thought I could pay some respect to them this way. I hope I wasn't crossing a line."
Bruce's POV
It had been a bit since he looked at the portrait, but the flowers she got seemed to bring it to life. The fidgeting told him he made her nervous, rightfully so.
"No. Just new..." His voice dragged, it was a long night. He only came over after hearing someone near his parent's room.
"In a good way?"
"Yeah, good way." He needed some sleep. Maybe some food.
"There's some food in the fridge for you by the way. Alfred said you were a late riser. Also, I must thank you for taking care of my living expenses. I know it wasn't necessary, but it means a lot." He only nodded and left her standing there. Making his way to the kitchen. As he passed there were more flowers in vases at different points in the house. Not quite as big as the one he first saw with her, but smaller ones.
The food was neatly put away, but there was an abundance of variety.
This was new.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n)'s POV
The weeks turned to months while living in the Tower helped create quite the routine. Every week she would go down to the florist for new flowers, helped Alfred with all the meals and cleaning. All done before lunch so she had the rest of the time to explore Gotham when she could. Of course she had her ways of protection, pepper spray, taser, and her concealed carry.
Throughout her time she would only ever see Bruce in the late afternoon and then he would disappear. His nocturnal habits became normal to her, so instead she would be sure to make him something to eat around the time he woke instead of when she and Alfred ate.
She couldn't quite understand his nightly adventures, but she wasn't one to judge. Maybe she would see him tonight. She was curled up with one of the many books in the library after a nightmare. The heavy rain pelted the windows casting quite the dramatic shadows onto the page. She had been there for hours now trying to let the words lull her to sleep. They were close until she heard footsteps coming closer. When the door creaked open she saw Bruce creep in then abruptly stop when he saw her.
For a bit there was just silence as both of them took the other in when she finally spoke, "Bruce? You okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry, didn't know you were in here. I'll just-"
"No, no its fine. I was just reading." He fidgeted where he stood, as if trying to decide whether to leave still or stay where he was.
"Couldn't sleep?" He was so awkward, like a kid caught sneaking around after bedtime. It warmed her heart a little, but she felt worried.
"Yeah, nightmare. Got me good, couldn't fall back asleep. You?"
"Something similar."
"You're welcome to join me then." For a moment he thought about it before taking a seat across from her. She curled closer into the blanket she had laying the book off to the side.
"Do you have nightmares often?" His voice was low as he asked, his posture curling in on himself.
"No...only sometimes. Normally of my dad...thankfully not often." His eyes never left hers it was the same effect she felt from Alfred, as if he was reading her, studying her. She hoped he found whatever he was looking for because it was making her nervous as the chill went down her spine. Yet just as he read her, she could read him. He was weary. Tired, exhausted even. He had a weight on his shoulders that looked exactly like her father's. The weight of the world.
"Bruce..." When she said his name he seemed to snap out of a daze, suddenly aware he was again.
"Are you sure you're ok? You seem..." She rose keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders slowly dragging as she took a small step towards him. The word lost on her tongue as he watched every step she took closer. Part of her thought she was approaching an animal waiting for something to strike. So she slowed and only crouched below his eye level.
"What?"
"Sad." His brow quirked at it, but his shoulders loosened. For a while they said nothing. Examining each other as the animal she seemed to corner calm. That same sorrow in his eyes was familiar. She saw it in her own from time to time when things felt heavier. Darker.
"I won't force you to talk about it. That's not my place." Awkwardly placing a hand on his arm and for a moment she didn't feel her entire body curl in on itself and then she takes it back.
"Sorry that was awkward, ignore me. You know what, actually I'll leave you alone, you probably didn't wanna hear ramblings this late. So the library is all yours. Not that it wasn't yours, this whole place is yours, I'm just...you know what I'm going to stop talking now and leave you alone." She rushes the door curled in on herself now, the blanket slipping making her trip a little.
"Thank you." She turns to him and he's only looking at her from the side.
"Always."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After that night Bruce seemed to be a little more open to her. They would see each other every now and again in the early mornings when one was going to bed and the other rising. Embarrassingly enough, he found her asleep in the library more than a few times afterwards as well. She remembers falling asleep a couple of times and waking up in her bed the next morning. Certain of how she got there because of a certain shadow. She hoped that their little nightly escapades weren't uncomfortable for him. Yet there were times where he was hiding something she couldn't put her finger on. She would see him somewhat limp, trying desperately to hide it if he knew she was around. Some days she saw slight bruising appear on his face with small cuts.
Yet the beginning started when one night he had bleeding coming from from his chest just below his collarbone. When she found him, he barely made it to his room as she was heading to hers.
"Bruce?!" His head snapped over to her as fear spread across his face, but his body betrayed him as he fell to his knees. She scooped him up putting him on her shoulders and helped him in his room onto the closet chair. His pain spread when he tried to relax into it.
"Alfred-"
"No time, I can patch it. I promise I'll get him once I know you're not going to bleed out. Not on my watch."
"Med-kit...below the sink..." His voice was deep trying to speak, but any breath he took made the wound pump more. She found the kit quickly rushing back over. After pulling out what she needed, she helped him out of his shirt only to see he was littered with more scars, some fresher than others. But that was a question for another time.
"This is going to hurt." She dumped some alcohol on the wound causing him to tense up and moan in pain. She grabbed the side of his face forcing him to look at her. She held a patch to collect any blood to clean it up while holding his attention on her.
"I'm right here, look at me. You're halfway there. The cuts deep enough for stitches, I can do that. I just need you to breath, can you do that, Bruce?" His pupils dilated while looking at her but he managed to nod in understanding. The stitches were painstakingly slow, but she managed each a clean and even closure. Every other stitch she'd feel him tense, but his breathing would come back in to bring him back down.
When she finished, she cleaned up the wound, placing a bandage over it to protect it. She started to check the rest of him for any openings she should know.
"This the only one?" When he nodded, she began checking his temperature to see if something else set in. His skin was clammy with sweat and now that she looked at him, he had an odd amount of black makeup around his eyes. Getting the wet cloth from the kit and started to clean it off of him while cleaning some of the sweat from his brow. When she finished his eyes were glazed over but his breath was steadying.
When she moved to get up, he grabbed her arm stopping her. His breath picking up, fear welling up in his eyes. His grip was tight almost hurting her. She saw a type of fear in his eyes.
"Hey hey hey, " She grabbed a hold of his face again causing his grip loosened, "I'm getting Alfred. I'll be right back I promise." She kept her grip firm on the side of his face. When he leaned into it, her heart ached as his eyes closed into her touch. When he opened up again he nodded and let go. After getting Alfred he looked him over, commending her for quick thinking. He told her he would take care of it from there. But she couldn't leave him. Instead she helped Alfred get him to bed and made sure he took some pain meds to ease into sleep.
That next morning, Alfred had found her asleep in a chair not too far from him. After that she started staying up a little later to make sure he was ok every night after the fact.
Today though, the sun was shining and that brightened her mood.
She decided some assortment of fruits would be good for today since the sun was out. Legendary moment for Gotham it seemed so she decided to take advantage of it. Once she finished cleaning up the kitchen she brought over the food to where Bruce and Alfred were sorting through the mail.
"Snacks, anyone?" The pile of mail was right in the center of the large table they sat at as both of them went through it. She laid the small tray between them as Alfred thanked her and Bruce nodded. His own way of saying 'thanks' she had deciphered long ago. The pile though before them looked like it would take them the rest of the day to sort through. She picked up the extra letter opener and started giving them a hand, Alfred had started to protest, but she waved him off.
There were so many threat letters, bills, company issues, and invitations to different parties. But this was the CEO of one of the biggest companies in Gotham so it didn't take her by too much of a surprise. But the threats did, none of them made sense to her. These people didn't even know Bruce, so how could they claim to know how he acts or thinks all because he's rich.
The next one she reaches to open is packaged in a lovely box. It has many different patterns that look like a mix of different artworks. It read 'Grand Gotham Art Museum'. After opening it, a small letter was inside that was nicely printed. It was inviting Bruce along with a plus one to the grand opening of the new art museum. Their first opening will be holding an auction.
"Oh this is cool, Bruce, you're invited to the grand opening of the museum not far from here. The auction their having will have all the proceeds going to charities here in the city" She slid the letter over to him as they're fingers grazed each other. Part of her ached to hold his hand, but she pushed the thought down.
"That sounds familiar....Ah, yes, I overheard many of Wayne Corp investors will be in attendance. I didn't realize it was so soon." Alfred pointed out.
"Then you should probably go. I know parties aren't a comfortable point for you, but it may be good to just see. Talk a little then go home. No need to stay too long." Bruce only looked over the invitation with a hint of daze. He's probably been invited to hundreds of these types of events. She has yet to see him go to any. Always staying in and handling things from home.
"She has a point. They've been wondering when you'd be showing your face again. They're getting a bit anxious their CEO has abandoned them." Alfred says this as if he's said it hundreds of time, yet Bruce has yet to respond.
"Well, if you do decide to go, I want to hear all about it. I'm sure there will be something exciting about it you'll enjoy." Their time continued going through mail as her thoughts wondered back to the gala and Bruce. He didn't seem too interested, but it would be good of him to get out and socialize even a little bit outside of her and Alfred.
Days went by slowly leading up to the gala when she and Alfred sat silently together drinking some morning tea. He with a newspaper and she with a checklist of supplies.
"So has Bruce decided whether or not he's going to the gala? Its only a few days now until then."
"Yes, he will be going. Took some convincing, but I think you were the one that helped him finally decide." The grip on her mug tightened, she hadn't spoken about it with him since she opened the invitation. Had he thought about what she said all this time?
"Really, that's good. Will he be going by himself or will you both be going?" She began to take a new sip when Alfred responded.
"Actually, he asked me, to ask you if you'd like to go with him." Whatever tea she was drinking then spewed out form her mouth making a mess of her checklist. Alfred looked up from his paper, mid-breath until she waved him off.
"Oh my gosh! Sorry, hold on." She quickly cleaned up her mess and threw away her withered checklist, now long forgotten on her mind.
"I'm sorry, you caught me by surprise there...but why would he want to take me. I thought he'd be more comfortable going alone."
"Well, if you wish not to I can let him-"
"No! No, that's not what I meant, I-I just mean that, well, would he want to be seen with me at an event like that? I wouldn't want to e-embarrass him. I've never been to something like this before, I wouldn't even know how to act or what to say."
"My dear, if he wasn't confident about his date, he would not have asked."
"Fair point." Her heart thumped so loud in her ears she thought Alfred would be able to hear it. It felt like it was going to burst right out of her chest at any moment onto the table like the tea. For a moment she couldn't find any words to say.
"I'll go with him. I just don't want to make him uncomfortable."
"You being there, will make him more comfortable than him going alone." That statement alone done it for her heart. Her breath left her all together.
"Then I better see what dresses I have. Hopefully I have something fancy enough."
"That will not be an issue. You will be getting a new dress, at Bruce's insistence."
"I couldn't, dresses for that kind of event would be way too much, I couldn't ask him to do that, he -" One look from Alfred stopped her in her tracks, 'Not up for negotiation'. She only sighed and couldn't help but laugh.
"Then will you join me? I have no idea what would be appropriate for this."
"Of course, my dear. The day is still early. I say we can skip today's normal duties to find something suitable. I'll let Master Bruce know ahead of time of course. You scurry off and get ready. I'll meet you back down here when you're ready." She couldn't help it, but her body moved on its own accord and she hugged the older man. Squeezing tight enough to show her appreciation and he laughed at her sentiment as he returned the gesture gently.
"Thank you, Alfred. I owe you one."
~~Hour Later~~
Once they left, Alfred drove them to the nicest and closest dress shop in town. When they walked in, she was amazed by all the seamstresses and ladies in the room. Many were getting sized and tailored. She wondered if this place was normally beyond her price range...well, everything Bruce did for her was out of her price range.
"Mr. Pennyworth, when I received your call, I was ecstatic. I thought I'd never hear from you again after the passing of our queen of Gotham, Mrs. Wayne."
"It is good to see you again as well, Ms. Poirot. I just need to have my friend here tailored for a gala. We'll need it expediated, and please send the bill to Mr. Wayne. He'll be covering all expenses."
At the mention of Bruce's name, the woman and many others all suddenly stopped and looked at her. She suddenly felt as if she was on a pedestal for display. She stepped a little closer to Alfred, attempting, failing, but attempting to use him as a shield from all the prying eyes.
"By...by his prince's request, non?"
"Yes. A private tailoring, of course." She nodded enthusiastically and led them to the farthest room in the back which tucked itself away from everything. She couldn't hear any of the commotion from the front of the shop any longer as a series of dresses were already picked out and brought to the room for her to try on. It took the Ms. Poirot only minutes to get her sized as her assistant retrieved more options for her to try. It felt like an eternity of trying different styles only to find that something about it didn't seem right. Her and Alfred always seemed to agree on what it was whether the dress was too tight, too poufy, too revealing, etc.
"I'm sorry for not finding one, Alfred. Just seems like nothing wants to feel right."
"No worries. Ms. Poirot has one more dress, she believes after our suggestions she's finally found the one for you." She was led to the dressing room again as Ms. Poirot made some adjustments she gazed at the the dress. This one was checking all the boxes for her.
It wasn't too revealing as it came just off the shoulders. The corset style bodice wasn't too tight and squeeze her figure just enough to show her off elegantly. The length was perfect as it wasn't too long to trip her, just long enough for her to walk freely along with the slit that came up just to the mid-thigh all while having a form-fitting flow. She wasn't sure if anything she's ever worn made her feel so...pretty.
When she stepped out, Alfred looked up from the paper he was reading and his eyes widened as she stepped over to the mirrors.
"Mr. Pennyworth, I must say I have found the one for our special little guest here. She is perfect, non?" Ms. Poirot's confidence radiated off of her as she adjusted (Y/n)'s hair and a few pins. She couldn't help but become infected with her confidence. It helped her stand just a bit taller.
"You never fail, Ms. Poirot. (Y/n), you look...exquisite." Alfred came up to her side looking at her through the mirror. He stood their with so much pride that she imagined her father standing there watching her. The reminder of it, made a tears build up in her eyes. At the very sight of them Alfred wiped them away quickly with his handkerchief, asking Ms. Poirot if they could have a moment.
"Dear, whatever is the matter?"
"I'm sorry, I love this dress, its just...you reminded me of my dad...just now. It snuck up on me, the yearning, of wanting him and my mother both here with me. Watching me go to my first fancy party. Gosh, you'd think I was getting married or something with the tears I'm shedding." She laughed through them as they came down her cheeks. Alfred smirked wiping a few more of them away before taking her into a hug.
"My dear, I'm sure they both would be absolutely beaming." They stayed close for a bit until she calmed down enough for the tears to stop. Her heart still ached, but even through the warmth of her salt-ridden cheeks she felt the ghost of her parents hovering ever closer.
"Now all's that's left then is the jewelry. I think I have some that should match the dress and shoes."
"Actually..."
"Let me guess, Bruce has something in mind already." She couldn't stop that smile that grew just at the sound of his name from her lips.
"You catch on quick, dear."
"His generosity never ends it seems."
"No negotiating."
"I figured."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce's POV
He waited most of the day for them to return. Hours passed when they left and the tracker still showed them in Poirot's shop. He could only imagine, she was trying to convince Alfred to not let him pay for her dress. Though he knew how firm Alfred could be on his behalf and of his own will.
When they returned back to the tower, he waited for them in the library. Alfred said he was going to head in for the night leaving the two of them alone.
"Thank you for buying my dress. I hope one day I'll be able to return your generosity. Alfred told me there was jewelry though you wanted to also give me for the occasion. So I promise to take good care of them and return them to you once the gala's over." She had tear stains on her cheeks. What happened? They were dry only leaving the stains on her cheeks, been a bit since then.
"Yeah. Something tells me they'll go well with your dress...so uhm...here." He had a box waiting next to him as he handed it over. When she opened her eyes lit up seeing the small pearl necklace with matching earrings adorned the navy velvet within.
"Bruce, these are beautiful. I never knew you had such an eye for this." Her voice caught at his surprise. Her smile warmed him from within. It seemed to have that affect every time he saw it.
"They were my mother's." When he uttered those words he saw her heart drop. If she wasn't taken off guard then she was now. Part of him was surprised himself, but he wanted her to wear them. The more he thought about it the more it felt right she wore them. And only her.
"Bruce...these are too precious. I wouldn't be able to do them justice." When she tried to put them back in his hand, he took her hands and wrapped them around the case. Her hands were cold, soft but calloused from all the work she did with her hands. Feeling them only reminded him of how they stitched him back up all those nights ago. His were only rough, he wondered if he was even worth her time with what he did every night.
"You'll do them an injustice if you don't." Seeing that hope in her eyes made him buckle under their weight. His hands didn't leave hers for a moment until he put them in his pockets, awkwardly after he realized just how long he stood there holding them. Maybe this was a mistake, getting so close with her. But the way she just...understood without questioning made him feel a way he hadn't before.
Looking back down at the box then back to him, her next move was closer to him, lifting herself up to meet his cheek placing a small kiss. Now it was her turn to take him by surprise. Her lips were so soft on him that he wanted her to stay there. Never to leave.
"Thank you. I'll do my best to do right by them. I shall honor them as your mother would." She didn't know that she already was by accepting them. He hasn't seen those pearls since...since a long time. But to see her with them didn't make him fill with fear for the first time in his life. Even as she receded, her body was still close enough for him to feel her breath, to feel her warmth radiate off of her. How did she do this to him...so easily. So willingly.
"I trust you." Was all he could manage to say.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n)'s POV
When the days passed closer to the Gala, she did anything and everything to keep herself calm. Her nerves were racking all over her with this event. She ended up cleaning rooms twice in the span of one day. Doing everything to keep her mind off of it. It took all of Alfred's will to put her nerves at ease while they worked. When the night finally came she thought she was going to sweat right through her dress.
She sat at the small vanity in her room staring at the pearls resting on velvet. God, she could feel the weight of them just by looking at them. How could she even begin to do them justice, but Bruce trusted her with them, so that should have been all she needed. So why did it feel so difficult?
The knock on the door snapped her back to reality as Alfred stepped through. When he found her form he stopped in his tracks.
"Alfred? Oh, sorry, I must be taking a while huh. I'll be right down, but uh..." Her gaze fell back to the pearls when footsteps approached her.
"Need some assistance?" She looked up at him as he took the necklace from its velvet resting place and moved to place it around her throat. It sat snuggly against her neck outlining her collarbones. When he finished he moved some hair out of the way and like before looked at her through the mirror. But something was different, instead his eyes softened.
"Alfred?" She turned in her chair looking at him now, now with his eyes seemingly distant.
"I didn't think those pearls would ever see the light of day again. You've given them a new light, a new life, my dear. I thank you." The smile wouldn't stop growing on her face as she matched his own.
"I tell you what I told Bruce," She took his hands in hers, "I will wear them honor. I'll be sure to get them back here safely."
"My girl, you already are." Alfred left her after that, letting her have a few more minutes before coming down, to calm last minute jitters. When she finally drew up the courage to come out, she made one slight detour to the Wayne family portrait. When she looked at Mrs. Wayne, the pearls around her neck came to life all over again. They were the same ones she wore from the portrait. The vase was empty for now. She'd have to go for flowers tomorrow. But she had one red rose left and placed it there below the portrait.
"Thank you, for letting me into your home and being close to your son. I'll try to watch over him tonight in your place. But maybe stick close by. Never hurts to have extra help." She didn't turn her back to the portrait till she was at the stairs. At the bottom was Bruce and Alfred, Bruce's back was to the stairs as Alfred adjusted helped with his tie. He could hear Alfred babying him now as Bruce's posture told her he's heard this talk plenty enough to want to escape it. Alfred stopped mid-sentence when he spotted her. That's what made Bruce turn around.
"Sorry for taking so long. Last minute jitters." As she took each step, Bruce followed every one of them all the way until she was right next to him. She has never seen the Bruce Wayne in awe, so maybe that was proof enough she looked pretty okay. She must have interrupted Alfred cleaning him up, cause one part of his hair was a bit out of place.
"Oh, looks like you got a stray there, hold on," Without second thought she reached up to his hair and slicked it back some, fixing the stray easily enough.
Alfred's POV
It felt like a stake was passed through his heart seeing the both of them like this. The way they both were dressed with the smallest gestures reminded him all over of them. The doting of Martha and how much love Thomas had in his eyes. That cold exterior of Bruce couldn't hide what his eyes wanted to say. She continued fixing the small things Alfred had begun. She even began to tease him. As Martha would.
"Bruce, I never knew you could spruce yourself up like this. You were hiding out on me all this time. Though I'm sure your normal clothes are definitely much more comfortable, maybe you should do this more often." Her smile grew ever wider. Her hands stayed for a moment on him, dusting him off a little. He saw the way she took Bruce's breath away. It looked like he taken an arrow to the heart and it an essence it was. "Only because you asked." Was all Bruce could respond with. And for the briefest moment, he saw Thomas' signature smile on his son's. The clock chimed signaling the event time was drawing closer.
"Is that the time?! We are going to be late," she finished dusting him off and practically dragged him to the elevator after Alfred helped them with their coats, Bruce followed behind most willingly. Before the elevator dinged, she stopped abruptly and raced back as quick as the heels would allow towards him. She placed a small kiss on the side of his head with a smile.
"Thank you, Alfred. I'll bring him back in one piece." That made him laugh.
"Please do, don't be afraid to use force." Her smile grew to a laugh as she raced back over to him. When the elevator doors closed, for once in his life since the Wayne's passing...
He could breath easy.
(Y/n)'s POV
Once they made it down, Bruce led them to the garage picking out his classic 63' Stingray. And as a gentleman he helped her inside closing the door behind her before stepping in himself. They still had just enough time to get to the event right as it opens, so Bruce didn't speed over, but being the car she began to feel the nerves all over again.
"So, how many of these have you been to before?"
"Only a few. I went to a lot of them when I was younger, but haven't so much as I've gotten....older."
"No shame in that." She began to fidget trying to keep the nerves at bay, she wasn't sure what else to talk about. Though when she looked down to her dress she remembered the reaction she got when Alfred had told them Bruce was paying for it. Living with him all this time, she practically forgot who exactly she worked for. No doubt the paparazzi will be there waiting, and he was bringing her as his date.
"Hey," Something had grabbed her hand away giving a small squeeze, it brought her back for a moment.
"We can turn around." His words filtered through when she turned to him.
"No! No, I'm okay. Just realized that I may be putting a lot more eyes on you than maybe what I thought..." The questioning glance was all it took for her to explain.
"Well, I remembered the way the ladies at the shop reacted when Alfred had said you were footing the bill. If that could make the whole shop go quiet, then the paparazzi here will have a field day. You may not see your name out of the papers for awhile just because I'm showing my face with you. Rumors will spread, people will start asking questions, it'll start trouble where it wasn't needed and-"
"(Y/n)." Her name spilling from his lips was all it took to quiet her. The red light from the stoplight shined against the side of his face as he took a moment to fully look at her.
"I knew the risks. I still want you there with me." He squeezed her hand again sending a chill up her arm. When the car surged forward again, she was happy and sad that he wasn't looking at her all at the same time. Her hand squeezed in return.
"Then if you're not worried, neither will I." They're hands stayed linked the rest of the car ride over. The radio hummed lowly until they finally arrived. He stepped out first and told her to wait a moment. When he opened his door, all sorts of flashing lights started to go off the moment his face turned towards the cameras outside. She could practically hear the screaming of them calling and begging for his attention. The fact she had his attention at all made her fuzzy inside.
As he opened his door, the surge of yelling increased as he laid his hand out to her. She took it gently as she rose slowly out of the car, the lights immediately blinding her. Bruce covered most of her body with his as he linked his arm with hers. She could barely see a few steps in front of her because of the lights.
"Focus on me." He managed to whisper in her ear. She squeezed his arm closer as he led her past the crowd and into the museum. Once inside, all the shouting died away and the lights now a low warmth as music played, echoing across the room. When she first entered into the Wayne Tower, she thought of a gothic style when entering, here was similar but it was warmer in tone. Lighter but similar.
Someone had took their coats for them as the walked further in. The music she heard came from a live orchestra just in the corner. There was even a singer with them whose voice carried sweetly into her soul. Though the warmth she felt just being connected to Bruce at the arm, put her more at ease. Everywhere she looked their was pedestals of different art pieces with paintings hung up all around the walls. They all had smaller stand to them with names and prices listed, the prices ever increasing.
"So that's how they're doing the auction." She whispered.
"What is it?"
"Oh, just, its a silent auction. I thought they have, you know, the person that spoke really loud and really fast. Silence kind of takes the fun out of it."
"How's that?"
"Well, you don't feel the tension as much. Its like you're fighting over the piece you want right then and there instead of it carrying on through the night."
He only hummed in response at this. They walked around a bit looking at different pieces before a few older gentlemen came over calling Bruce's name. She could feel him tense, he recognized them for sure. This was where the socializing would begin.
"Mr. Bruce Wayne, as I live and breath. Been a while since you've escaped from that tower of yours. Oh, and who is this lovely lady you have hidden from us? Name's Harrington Rutherford, I'm a business partner of your date tonight here." The way the man spoke, she knew he was an investor without having to introduce himself. He had taken her hand and pressed a kissed to it, he was old fashioned like some people she knew back home. It was refreshing, but still odd to her as she took her hand away.
"I'm (Y/n). It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Rutherford. Bruce has told me of your business practices." The small lie sent the man lit with pride. She saw Bruce out from the corner of her eye, huff as she squeezed his arm.
"Did he now? All good things, though I have to say. I have quite the silver tongue, but this young man can out-negotiate anyone in the city." He slapped Bruce on the shoulder while a laugh escaped her lips seeing him wanting to curl in on himself. But he forced his shoulders back and smiled.
"Thank you, Rutherford." Was all he managed to get out before the man went into talking about other business. She excused herself with running to the ladies' room, but secretly only went so far as to stay in eye-sight of Bruce. She watched as the moment she left his side, he was swarmed by what looked like other business partners or interested parties. Every now and again he would find her as their eyes met.
Motioning with her hands, she raised her mouth to form a smile while mouthing the word to him. The exasperation at her little antics caused him to give a genuine one, just not to the men and woman that surrounded him. At that point, maybe she should rescue him.
She excused herself by the people that separated him from her, but as she approached closer they began to part like the red sea. When she finally got to him, Rutherford was still there but red in the face with so much laughter. And maybe a bit with the amount of alcohol she smelled from him.
"I must excuse, Bruce here, he promised me a dance this evening and I'm calling it in." She took his hand in hers and led him out of the crowd. Once they reached the dance floor, a new song began to play.
"You left me."
"You needed to socialize with your investors." She grinned as he puffed out his cheeks. His shoulders released as he took her by her waist.
"I will say though now, I actually don't know how to dance..." Now it was his turn to grin. He pulled her closer so their chests touched.
"Put one hand on my arm and the other in my hand here. Just follow my lead." When she did, she felt the hiding muscle in his arms. It only made her think back to the night she had seen him shirtless, but also bleeding out. She had only one good look at what lurked beneath that suit and the mere thought of it sent her spiraling as he led them their the swaying of the dance.
"How did the talk with your investors go? It looked as if you were about to turn into a puddle at any moment."
"Tiresome. There's a reason I do business from home. I'm not...a conversationalist."
"But you're talking right now." The exasperation returned as she joked with him only to give herself a small giggle. She is torturing him.
"Talking with you, is much different than with them and any other person here."
"Why's that?"
"You make it easy to forget where I am." That made her forget where she was now. Looks like he's taken his revenge out on her for abandoning him to the wolves. Before she could respond she felt something small tug on her dress. When she looked down the tug was attached to a small hand which belong to a handsome little boy dressed up in his finest.
"M-may I-I dance with the lady?" He must have been working up the courage for that one. When she looked up to Bruce he had a small smirk on his face, giving her hand a small squeeze.
"I don't think he would mind if I did. From one handsome gentleman to another." Her hand slipped from his and into the little boy's as he led her a little ways closer to the center of the floor. She took a chance to look back and see Bruce with an older woman next to him. She seemed to look apologetic, but he dismissed her with a smile. A real smile.
"So, what is my dance partner's name?"
"Peter. And yours my lady?"
"(Y/n)."
"You have a beautiful name, miss."
"Why thank you. You have handsome name for a handsome gentleman." They continued to dance, or sway, to the music as it picked up pace. The boy's laughter was contagious as they continued. They bumped into a few people and she quickly apologized. When the boy started to tire so she took them off the floor as he started telling her all about the art they past as they went to get a drink. He was spouting facts off as if he curated the museum itself. He showed her every piece on auction. It reminded her of her own mother. Peter reminded her of herself a little.
"Now what about this one?"
"Its actually my mom's. She spent a really long time on it. She even let me help, but only a little."
"Then you my friend, have an hand in helping this city. This one your favorite?" His eyes only lit up like fireworks as she laughed with him. She spotted Bruce and his mother not too far off from them as they wandered around. Bruce had someone come up to him every now and again, but the mother seemed to help him escape when he needed. Mothers know.
"What was yours?" She had to think for only a moment when she grinned at him and led him over to the one in the farthest corner of the room. It as hidden away from everyone and had still yet to have someone bid on it. The background showed the darkness of the night with only small specks of white showing the stars along with one bigger one showing the north star. The massive amounts of black mixed with blue made her think of the clouds that would pass overhead. It was the only picture that reminded her a bit of home.
"This one?" The boy was quizzical, but her smile only grew as she looked at it some more.
"Yep. It reminds me of home a bit and of someone..." Her mind couldn't help but wonder to Bruce.
"It reminds me of Batman." The bewilderment that flew through her did not do her surprise justice.
"Batman? Like the Batman?"
"You never see him?!"
"No, not yet, but maybe that's a good thing. Since he's always out chasing bad guys."
"Yeah, but I got to see him once. He looks so cool!" Classic little boys with their heroes. Though she couldn't blame him.
"He does blend in with the night. Despite it, he actually shines very clear."
"But he's a shadow."
"But a light to those in need." She pointed at the star in the painting. Peter began to piece it together and smiled wide showing his toothy grin.
"You can be a light too, even if its from within yourself."
"I'll try to be. But I want to help my mom first."
"Then that can be your first step." He squeezed her hand tightly as he gazed further into the art with her. Even as he did so, a yawn overtook him and his eyes began to water with sleep.
"Alright little buddy of mine, I think its time to find your mom." She picked him up without a second thought. He settled in and held her neck tight as she looked around. She didn't have to look long when she saw Bruce with the same woman, they had been watching them the entire time she imagined. The mother moved immediately with a grateful smile. His mom took him onto her own shoulder thanking her profusely for being with her son most of the night. As they left, Bruce stopped being the shadow he was over her shoulder and stepped more into view.
"That time, I did not abandon you willingly. Not intentionally at first."
"I believe he was a better dance partner."
"By a long shot. Pretty handsome too, but don't worry, you're definitely a close second." They both huffed a small laugh at that as another song began to slow. She noticed now that the crowd dispersed to become thinner. She hadn’t noticed how late the night had gotten since she began to play with the small boy. It’s almost time for the gala to end.
“Would you like to finish our dance?” A small whisper past her ear. As she turned, Bruce had his hand outstretched waiting for her’s. When she placed it there, his rough callous hands gently squeezed, guiding her back to the dance floor. One hand slid around her waist bringing her closer than they had ever been as the other continued as the lead in their dance. Everywhere they touched, she burned. Every graze sent her into a haze. Their eyes stayed on the other, she couldn’t pry them away. She found peace there being lost in them.
“Thank you, Bruce.”
“What for?”
“For letting me come with you. I know you could have just has easily ignored the invitation or even came alone, but you brought me with you. Risked me causing trouble for you just by being by your side.” For a beat he said nothing he only studied her face before he spun her away and back again, her back to his chest.
“I don’t mind the trouble you bring, so long as you’re here.” His breath brushed against her neck as he spoke. The warmth traveled from his hand around her waist to her cheeks. He moved her again to face him once again though now the hand on his bicep traveled up to his neck, barely brushing her fingers into his hair. His grip tightened on her waist as the leading hands moved closer to their chests. She couldn’t speak a word with how close he was to her. He was but a hair away from touching her nose with his own. There was nowhere to look but his eyes.
"Then whatever trouble comes, we'll handle it...together." She whispered back. She so desperately wanted to meet him where their breath mingled. Her heart was racing and she knew he could hear it. She could partially feel the chill that seemed to run up his neck, yet her whole body was covered in them thankful that his hands couldn't feel them. She wouldn't know what to do if he did.
"Ladies and gentleman," Their faces pulled away as a lady began to speak over the microphone. She pulled away from him just enough where they both had room to breath. The awkward smile on her face wouldn't leave her. She only briefly felt his hand stay intwined with her own as the woman continued.
"We thank you for coming and participating in our auction. We have closed the auctions and finalized the total of donations. Thanks to you, we have raised over 20 million dollars to be divided and sent to our most prestigious and trustworthy charities!" The was an arousal of applause at the sound. Joy filled her at the sound. Knowing Gotham, someone will try to take the money, but she still has hope that it stays protected till it reaches where it needs to go. Maybe perhaps even the Batman will watch over it. Her hand squeezed Bruce's briefly in her joy as he moved it to instead wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She saw the smile that lifted as she showed her excitement.
"We would not have been able to do it without you, citizens of Gotham. With this final announcement we will commence this Gala. Any one that purchased art will receive their purchase within a few days, but we will need those of who also to please stay for a moment to sign papers for finalizations. Please be safe going home." Once she dismissed everyone, everyone made for the doors or for their paperwork it seemed.
"I'll grab our coats from the desk. I can meet you out front to wait on the valet to bring the car around." She said, still somewhat leaning his hold of her.
"Sounds good. I'm actually going to run to the restroom, before then."
"Alrighty." As they parted his touch still lingered all around her body. She already missed his warmth, but she pushed it to the back of her mind as she requested their coats. After putting her own on, she felt a ticket tucked away in Bruce's coat pocket, it was the valet ticket. Perhaps she could go ahead and get the valet to bring the car around. Once she exited she gave the valet the ticket and waited for them in the chill air of the city. More people spilled out of the Gala as she began to hear the city truly come alive in the night.
From across the road, there were two men stumbling around, drunk obviously to her eyes. She tried not to stare, but one of them caught her. When she quickly looked away, it was too late. She heard him yell out at her along with his friend. She tried her best to ignore them and act as if she did not know they were yelling for her. It wasn't until they crossed the street in the middle of traffic that they finally got close enough to her.
"Hheeeeeeyyy there pwetty lady. How 'bout you and I go somewhere warm?" Though she didn't need to know they was drunk based on their body language, the smell was more adamant. It wafted off the both of them like waves making even herself nauseous from just being near.
"No, thank you. I'm waiting on someone."
"Awwww come on! You waitin' on one of these rich bozos? Trust me, sweetie, we can keep you much warmer than these freaks." The other slurred.
"As I said before, I am waiting on someone." At this one of them finally seemed to hate the word 'no' as he gripped her wrist, jerking her near his face. He didn't get another word out when another arm jerked his off of hers and twisted it behind his back causing him to wince and cry out. He dropped to his knees even not able to move around with his arm pinned. They were starting to attract more attention with this when she realized Bruce was the one pinning him with only one hand.
"She said no." Bruce said coldly. He paid no attention to the one he had a hold of. He kept his attention on the other one who started to back away.
"Hey man-"
"Bruce!" She separated them, forcing Bruce to let the man go. She placed one hand on his chest while pushing the other man away from them.
"They aren't worth it." She whispered low enough for him to hear, but he only stared harder at them. His other arm forcing her into his chest.
"What the heck man?!" The one that was frightened helped his friend up off the ground, but the friend seemed more angry than frightened. Which was his of his many mistakes in this moment.
"I suggest, gentleman, you leave. This is your last warning." She knew she could be terrifying when she needed be, this was one of those moments. The moment the men's eyes caught hers finally they seemed to be sober enough to get the idea. Bruce's grip tightened around her. She didn't need to look at his face to know a greater shadow was casted over him to put the fear of God in their souls. They left just after, stumbling along the way and she didn't take her eyes off them till they were out of sight.
"I shouldn't have left you alone." Bruce uttered, regret seemed to fill his voice instead of the venom he used just earlier.
"I'm fine. You know most men, their barks are worse than their bite."
"Am I most men?"
"No," she smirked, "You don't have a bark, you're all bite. I think I just saved those men's life if anything." She motioned for him to put his coat on and he followed suit just as their car then rolled to a stop near them. The valet handed the keys over to Bruce bidding them goodnight. Bruce then opened the door helping her inside before getting in himself. As soon as the drive began, she then noticed the white substance that traced the arm the man from before had grabbed.
"What is that?" Bruce asked as soon as he seen her examining it.
"I don't know. Its right where that man grabbed me though." She gave it a brief sniff, nothing, "There's no smell." But as soon as the words left her mouth she began to feel woozy. Her head spinning as the street lights blurred together. She could hear Bruce speaking, but he sounded so far away. It only got worse as her body felt numb running from her wrist to the rest of her. They drugged her, it had to be some sort of skin contact roofie. She tried to speak with no use. No words formed as she felt her body relax against the seat, vision turning black.
Bruce's POV
They drugged her. He wasn't sure what the powder was, but he would find out. Once she was safe.
Her body went limp in the seat as he speed through Gotham. He called Alfred, telling him to prep the analyzer and told him what happened quickly before hanging up. Once he was back, he grabbed her gently in his arms rushing to the elevator where Alfred waited. As they rode the elevator, Alfred checked her over in his arms. He gripped her tighter as Alfred scanned her over. Once they were within his home he put her in the closest room he could find to make her comfortable. It was his. Once he laid her down Alfred handed him a sample kit.
He gentle scrapped some of the powder off of her then handed it to Alfred.
"She seems alright, Master Bruce. Nothing to worry about. She'll be out for a few hours at most. She showing no other signs of injury or concern. I'll let you know what I find on the powder as soon as I finish." He brushed a piece of hair out of her face as she slept, she showed no signs of pain thankfully.
"I'm going out." He whispered. He paced past Alfred, he only heard him briefly before he made his way to the basement.
"Those poor men."
Those poor men indeed. It didn't take him long to find them. His contacts ID them quickly and he found one of their most frequented bars. He managed to find them bar hopping trying the same trick on other girls, not succeeding at getting close, thankfully. Once they left their last bar, he tracked them through an alley. Once they entered far enough he made his descent behind them.
"S-t! Its Batman!" One shouted. The one that had gripped (Y/n) whipped around, unsheathing a knife from his side. It was over the moment it began. Kicking the knife, he had a hold of him by his throat kicking out the other's knee. He felt it break under his foot. His grip on the man's throat tightened feeling every pump from his heart to his veins as he slowly closed off his supply. They were too drunk to fight him, he knew that. But it didn't lessen the pain he would inflict upon them.
When he was finished, he hung them from the fire escape leaving them broken and beaten.
"This is your only warning. I won't be so merciless the next time." Calling Gordon, he wasn't surprised about the new roofie drug, told him they've been seeing more cases of it. Said he'd send someone out to grab them. The men shouted for help, but he taped their mouths shut as he walked away. Every fiber in him wanted to beat them until they couldn't remember their own names, but that would make the papers and she would see it. He didn't want that. But next time, he wouldn't care. If it meant they wouldn't ever have another chance of going near her, he ensure it stayed that way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n)'s POV
Her vision was coming back as warmth spread all over her body. She could feel nausea warp her brain when she tried to sit up. Part of her felt numb yet completely aware of every part of her body. What happened? The last thing she remembered was being in Bruce's car then nothing.
She sat up for a bit before deciding to try and move, but noticed her clothes had changed. Only thing that was left was the pearls. They hadn't been taken off of her. But the last thing she remembered they were leaving the gala, so how had she changed into pajamas? The blankets wrapped around her were different. They weren't the ones she always slept under nor the canopy over the bed, or even the room. The fireplace crackled to life, lighting up the room with a warm glow as she moved off the bed. Taking a blanket with her. Snugged close she went for the door though it opened for her as a shadow stepped through.
Bruce.
His eyes were wide as saucers, but before she could speak she was lifted off the ground. Snugged close now to Bruce instead of the blanket she had. She could feel how tight he held her in his arms. He placed her back in the bed as he knelt before her.
"You shouldn't be moving around right now."
"What happened? I only remember being in the car with you, then-"
"You were laced with a skin contact roofie."
"The men-"
"Arrested and in custody by Lieutenant Gordon from GPD." A breath of relief washed over her. At least now they couldn't harm anyone else. She was lucky Bruce was there with her. Though she hoped she was able to put up a fight before that drug set in. The fire crackled casting moving shadows across Bruce's face, but those shadows didn't compare to the ones under his eyes. He had fear in his eyes.
"Bruce?" His hand was close, so she took a leap and held it. Squeezing as hard as she could. When he came back from wherever in his mind he was, he returned the gesture wrapping his other over hers. Encasing it tightly. His knuckles had fresh cuts and redness.
"I'm safe." That seemed to bring him back down. His shoulders released tension when he placed his head on the bed, exhausted.
"I'm sorry this happened to you. Gordon's running interviews to see if it was a random attack or if you were targeted. It wouldn't be the first time someone close to me was targeted to get to me...to know you were nearly taken...it'd be my fault." His voice was so low she barely heard him. But she heard enough to use her free hand to lift his face to see it again. The black makeup ran around his eyes again causing his eyes to stand out. When she place her hand on his cheek he was warm. So warm to her cold hands.
"Don't. This would not be your fault, you saved me Bruce. I can put up a fight, but if you didn't get there when you did I wouldn't be here." She moved the hair out of his eyes studying his appearance, he was an absolute mess. Though she looked no different after coming to from a drug.
"Thank you." Her mouth curled as her hand squeezed his face only a bit. Forcing him to look at her.
"Always." He buried his face into the bed a moment later. His breathing coming to a slow and steady rhythm.
"By the way....who changed me out of my clothes?" In all but a second the tension came rushing back to his shoulders as a laugh escaped her lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Days passed after the gala's night. The pearls was placed back in their velvet bed and stayed on her vanity. After she woke, it wasn't long before she was back on her feet again. Though she kept a shadow that watched every step. Any slight stumble or accident sent Bruce on edge, he was afraid the drug had other effects. No matter the amount of times her and Alfred told him she was fine, he wouldn't relent until a doctor came by at his request.
When she was checked over, the doctor said there were no signs of anything left in her system. When the doctor had left something else came up as well. A particular painting that attracted her eye during the Gala. They had finished hanging it up in the library when Bruce walked in after seeing the doctor out.
"Bruce..." Alfred and her both were staring hard into him with massive grins on their faces. She seen him curl in as he crossed his arms.
"Did you buy a painting from the Gala?" Alfred pushed.
"Charity."
"Ah. Yes. I'm glad you did. The painting is lovely, gives this room a little more ambience, I believe. I'll bring around some tea for us all to admire it." When he left she went to follow behind to help but before she passed she stopped beside Bruce.
"Its a lovely painting. You have a good eye." He only nodded, but his cheeks had flushed after being teamed up on. He followed her out still as her little shadow. Even with the doctors sign off, he stilled seemed to worry. Even while she worked throughout the day he appeared in every room she was in. Though they both found themselves in the library where the painting was hung up. They didn't talk a lot, but the silence was comforting. When he was gone, it wasn't until she went to bed.
It gave her the opportunity to see just how routine his nightly antics were. The eye makeup, the cuts, the bruises, the knuckles. She had a feeling something was up, but it was none of her business unless he told her himself. But whatever he does at night, she only hoped he came back in one piece every time he went out.
One of those nights was tonight, but she had left before him this time. Just before the sun set she realized she had forgotten to get more flowers for the portrait and it felt wrong to let another day go by without them. She let Alfred know where she was going, though he warned against it, when she showed her conceal, he felt a little more at ease. Though she always hoped she never has to use it.
The florist expected her and was glad to see her again. Once she got the flowers bundled up for her the florist began to wave her off without paying. Though she insisted on paying, the florist insisted. As she left the sun disappeared from the sky allowing the city light to illuminate her way now. The city truly waking since the day began. The bundle of flowers where crushed against her chest as one hand tightened them and the other close to the holster hiding under her coat.
Every sound and yell sent her on edge. She picked up her pace but calmed when she saw Wayne tower in sight. It wasn't the only thing in sight either.
As she passed an alley way she heard a group of men. They all were laughing waving something around. When she risked a look she saw that it was guns while others were stocking bags with packages. She nearly sprinted then before a low whistle sounded off in her ear. Her legs sprinted. She couldn't let them know where she lived if they decided to stalk her so she ran in varying directions. Confusing them as she heard them catching up. Once she ducked down another alley. Before the end she was cut-off. Backing up to the way she came in when the other half blocked it as well. There was no escape.
"Look now, little lady. I think we need to have a chat." She's got 8 shots including one in the chamber. She wouldn't have a chance to defend herself the moment they decided to get rid of her. She was outnumbered, 1 to 6. Another dark covered alley just behind her, but if she made any moves she was dead.
"I think, I was on my way home. Not seeing anything."
"Except for us." They moved in around her. When her back hit the wall she felt another chill go down her spine when it moved. She heard the men curse under their breath as something moved in on her from behind.
A wave of bullets came at her until she saw the sky and a pointed mask. Her body was covered by the shadow as he blocked the assault with his body. He pulled something out from his hip. Once he released it behind him smoke filled the area covering them. She reached herself for the conceal now, getting a good grip and flicking the safety off.
"No guns." The deep voice over her warned. His jaw set tight.
"I shoot to wound. Now move!" She grabbed the front of his armor and pulled him to the side as two men moved in on them. Two shots to each. One to the shoulder, the other to the knee. She heard one of them move around behind them before she saw his silhouette move in.
She forced the Bat off her switching places. In quick succession two more shots, another shoulder another knee. The smoke covered them for now, but the others would be moving in any second.
"Bat, you good?" She tapped him on the chest with a free hand never taking her eyes off the smoke around her. He only grunted in response when she grabbed his arm helping him up.
"Back to back." He commanded, she moved in on him, feet shuffled around his cloak as she kept her gun close and up. She couldn't see anything that wasn't three feet in front of her.
"Move on my mark." She heard clicking from his arms, "Now." He moved forward with her on his rear. Stayed close before they were hit with another array of bullets. They took cover behind separate dumpsters. She braced her head tight to her chest. She chanced a look at the Bat and he was furious. He motioned something on his hand, it was military hand signals. He asked how many more shots she had.
Two.
Shield, move in, on me, my mark. Loud and clear. On his count they moved. He took the front, she moved in behind. Taking out one on the far right before her gun clicked empty. Bat moved right she moved left. She took the magazine out throwing it at the other man along with the main body of the gun. Disorienting him as she sent a left and right hooks. He swung the gun on her, blocking and twisting forcing him to drop it. But he rushed her then slamming her into the wall nearby.
His hands found her throat closing off her air. Her vision blurred quickly as she tried to relieve her throat of pain and fight him off. But as quick as he was on her, he was off as the Bat slung him off. The man was on the ground and knocked out in an instance. When she managed to pull herself off the ground he turned to her. But as he was looking him over, the last one, the one he thought he dealt with was getting up slowly pointing a gun at him.
Instinct took over as her legs filled with adrenaline.
"Bat! Down!" He didn't look he didn't hesitate. He ducked as quick as she vaulted over kicking the gun, but not before it went off. As it clattered she kicked out his knee bringing him low then popping a knee in his chin. Then one final punch down across his face till he fell limp on the ground.
"That all of 'em?" She was heaving every breath, she hadn't done something like that since training days...since her father.
"I counted six. Six are down."
"Good. That's good." Now that the immediate danger was over, she could feel where that bullet went now. When she gripped her side, her sweaty hand now came back with red. She crumbled in an instance. Something hard caught her before her head could smack the concrete. His hand applied heavy pressure. The sting made her body curl away from him, but his other arm trapped her against him.
"It grazed, but it went deep. I have something to seal it for now, but you need to be still." She only managed a nod before he pulled out a small aerosol can. When he sprayed it over her wound it was ice cold hitting her skin. Whatever it was, numbed the area and sealed the opening before she could bleed anymore.
"Thanks. Magic stuff there." He didn't respond, instead he already had a phone to his ear talking over quickly to a Gordon. The name was familiar. After that he set her against the wall while he tied all the men up. The longer he took the more time she had to study him. After the fight his suit had scratches in and dents in it. The cape fluttered behind him as he moved swiftly. As he moved he looked over each guy slowly until he found what he wanted. When he finished that's when the cops rolled in and took control of the area quickly.
A man walked swiftly to the Bat talking to him seriously. This must Gordon, the Lieutenant Gordon now that she saw his face. The infamous cop that had the trust of the Bat himself. No one else wanted to approach. They walked like they were on eggshells around him. They talked swiftly before they both headed her way. An EMT had already found her and started to properly stitch up her graze.
"Miss, glad to see you're okay, but I'll need to get your statement before we can run someone back home."
"Understood, sir. Wish we met though under better circumstances." As he questioned her, Bat never went too far. He stayed just behind Gordon, watching everyone that went by but she knew he was listening to every word.
"Thank you. We'll take over from here, but I'll leave my card with you in case you need to contact me. We'll find you if you have anymore questions. Now, we'll have a cruiser take you-"
"I'll take her." That was the first he spoke since Gordon started questioning her.
"You don't need to. You have a whole city to look for other people like me." She said, but he had already moved to help her up.
"We don't know if one of them made a call out before the fight finished or if we were being watched. Need to make sure you won't be followed, not a future target."
"No negotiating on that, is there?" The small glare her way only answered her question. He helped her into his vehicle before getting in himself. Once they pulled out of the alley, she felt that vehicle hit Mach 1 as they got on the road. He managed to miss every car she thought they were about to hit. Though with that speed they arrived at the Wayne tower in no time to spare. He parked in a dark corner just far enough away from the entrance he could watch everyone approach. She tried opening the door and once she did he was on her side in no time giving her his hand out.
A gentleman even in a suit of bullet-proof armor. Once she took his hand it took her a moment to catch her breath. The stitches pulled against her causing a sharp intake of breath.
"Good?" His voice was so close it caused her to take another breath.
"Yeah. Good. Fresh stitching is all. Thanks for getting me back safe." Looking up at the tower filled her relief. Alfred will have many questions for her. But she'll have some of her own as well.
"Can I ask you one quick question?" The Bat looked down at her now giving her his full attention.
"What time will you be home?" His eyes widened like that night in the library when he first saw her curled up with a book. A kid caught sneaking around. Tension in his shoulders with no idea how to relieve it.
"What?"
"You heard me. What time will you be home, Bruce?" As far as tension goes, she couldn't think of a moment where he's been this tense before now. He got caught and he doesn't know what to do. She got him by surprise.
"How did you-"
"We can have as long of a discussion as you want, but you need to answer my question first."
"Early morning. 4 or 5."
"Understood, I will see you then." She made her way for the door before he called out to her.
"What gave it away?" She didn't turn at first. She thought of all the nights she found him, of the sleepless nights, the recluse behavior, the wounds, then the way he held himself. But it wasn't until tonight that it pieced together because of one little detail. She turned briefly to look at him. When she gestured to her eyes, part of the tension released from his shoulders. By the time she got to the door and the security rushed her in, he was gone.
Once Alfred found her he was worried sick. He wouldn't stop sputtering over her, telling her what she did was stupid and that next time to just be more patient. He checked her over, giving her some tea to calm her down.
"Alfred...I think we need to talk."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce's POV
Once he was back in the cave his stress level hadn't reached its peak till then. The night started replaying in his head. The moment he spotted her from the florist he had followed her all the way till those guys started chasing her. She was fast and caused a lot of confusion until they trapped her in that alley.
That's when her military training kicked in, father's work no doubt. Every shot found its mark. She shot to clip not to kill and it worked in their favor. Every man brought alive for interrogations with Gordon. But when he saw her bleeding his heart had dropped to his stomach.
When the EMT cleared her he hadn't felt that kind of relief since Alfred woke up in the hospital. He had that same fear build in him when she crumbled into his arms and when she was drugged. Then when she called him by his name, he couldn't think of anything else that night until he got back. After he took all his armor off by putting it away in the case is when he finally heard the elevator ding. When it opened he saw her step out.
"Hi." He couldn't say anything. He couldn't find the words. She was dressed the same he found her in the library the first night he found her. Lacking the blanket that was replaced with tea instead in her hands. Some snacks too. This must be why she asked when he'd being getting home.
"Hope you didn't get into anymore trouble after saving me...again." She sat the tray down on the table. She moved around him as if she done it thousands of times down here. She was handling this must easier than he was.
"I think you have a lot of questions for me. Safe to ask them now."
"When did you first suspect?"
"When you came home with a stab wound. When I first stitched you up. Only grew from there when you did it more often. Didn't have any proof of anything, but hoped whatever you were doing, you were being smart about it."
"What else?"
"The late nights, the recluse behavior, the black eyeliner. That was a big one. You should probably invest in makeup wipes or Vaseline, both are good at removing that stuff." She couldn't contain her laughter, it infected him as he grinned low.
"But what really gave it away was your eyes. I've lived with you long enough to see them, I saw them up close at the gala. Then tonight when you used your body to shield mine, I got an up close look at the Batman. His eyes belonged to the same man I work for...it couldn't be anyone else." He shouldn't have gotten so close to her. Shouldn't had continued letting her help stitch him back together. He shouldn't had let her continued caring for him or getting closer everyday. To allow himself to be near her as much as he thought he was only ensuring her safety.
But God. When he saw her that day in the interviews he was drawn to her. Then when she was placing flowers at a portrait of people she didn't know. Then the library, the countless times he found her there awake or bundled asleep with a book on her face or in her lap.
But the gala...the gala he knew he had done himself in. He didn't realize what he got himself into when he had Alfred ask her on his behalf. The pearls paired so well with her dress and her. She seemed to step out of the night sky, a sky he hunted under every night. That entire night he felt a peace he hadn't felt in a long time. Just being with her felt like he could hope for himself again. Yet her light never shined on just him, it shined on everyone she met. Part of him was jealous wanting it all for himself.
"I hope this doesn't put make things weird. I can keep a secret and if you want me gone I can do that...but I hope you'd reconsider if you accept my help."
"Help?"
"Let me help you when you go out."
"No." He moved away from her, he couldn't look at it. Maybe it would be best if she left the city. He wouldn't need to worry about her, not be so distracted. When she gripped his arm is when his thoughts stopped.
"Bruce. If you don't want me in the field, fine, but maybe I can help here. Be behind the scenes. I see what you're doing here. I know its good. This is what you do, this is who you are. I want to help. All I ever wanted to do when you first hired me." She turned him, forcing him to look at her though he would do it willingly if it meant he could for eternity.
"Please. This is your legacy. Let me help, I'm sure Alfred will be over the moon that someone other than him will be looking over you." She moved and cupped his face like she did the night she patched him together for the first time. She didn't have a clue how she undid every fiber of him. How she managed to find all the right words. How she managed to do this to him. He shouldn't. But he couldn't stop himself.
His hands found her face and when his lips met hers he felt true bliss. She didn't pull away, no she leaned in. From that alone he felt he would lose it. He pulled her body closer trapping her between the table and him. The longer he kissed her the more he wanted. When he was forced to stop because of the lack of air he managed to take her in again.
Her cheeks flushed while her hands fidgeted in his hair. He felt every breath from her as her chest moved with his. His hands still squeezed her closer. He couldn't let her go, not now.
"Guess that means I'm not fired at least." Her smile grew causing him to sink his head into her neck to hide the small grin. Her laughter vibrated against him as she pulled him closer to her. She held him as he stayed still. He couldn't leave and that terrified him a little, but only a little. The rest was more terrified of her leaving him or being taken from him.
"Stay." When he finally lifted his head her eyes were already on his. He got lost again like the Gala. He was so close to kissing her then. When they had danced together, it was only them. Now truly it was only them.
"Always."
"But you stay here. No field work."
"Its your business, Wayne. I'll be the Oracle. I won't promise though not to come running if you're in trouble that's over your head."
Seems like what she told that little boy, Peter, was right. He was a light to others as Batman. But now, he finally had one of his own.
212 notes · View notes
minks-country-club · 3 months
Text
In my humble headcanon, Batman ignores the people who steal from grocery stores. He knows about Gotham's poverty, he's very intimate with the conditions these people live in. It's one of the things Wayne Enterprises fight against and the charities Bruce donates to. Batman doesn't see the benefit of beating up some guy who stole a loaf of bread or a woman stealing period products and handing them in to the police. He simply looks the other way and beats up the other guy whose trying to get it on with a woman who clearly doesn't want the attention.
159 notes · View notes
thewritermj · 5 months
Text
cameras flashes, that's how we crashed
battinson!bruce wayne X reader
part 1
Tumblr media
summary: on a press conference, bruce finds a journalist who's up to his standards
warnings: usual gotham violence, quick discrimination of a serial killer, not actually smut in this, but in the future so NSFW MDNI
a/n: forgive any grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language!!! Bruce lives in the manor instead of the Wayne Towers cuz I like the manor vibe more, also I kinda picture Jim Gordon from the Gotham Tv show, cuz I love that version but it doesn't really matters lol. (nothing said above is useful for this reading but I just thought you should know) also, this takes place one year after the movie
Bruce sat quietly on the car, the ride was awfully short. He wished he had more time to mentally prepare to his first press conference. He was a recluse for most part of his life, but after the scandal about The Gotham Renewal Program, people deserved to know the truth. And the idea of continuing his family legacy of charity and philanthropy wasn’t all bad and kept Alfred out of his nerves for a while.
And even tough Bruce Wayne could crack a fake smile to the cameras, throw charity galas and events, the true help came at night. The only possible salivation Gotham could have, the real way he could help the city was as Vengeance. The Batman. He didn’t think of himself as a hero, or a vigilante, more of a necessary evil; all the violence and anger, the rage and the darkness of his work, his project; people would be outraged if they found out they were the same man.
“We’re here, Mr. Wayne” The driver announced.
Alfred, who as sitting across from Bruce on the limo closed the papers he was reading and smiles softly.
“Ready, master Bruce?”
Bruce sighs.
“Not really”
The car parked inside the underground garage of the Wayne Enterprises, Bruce and Alfred made their way to the elevator, not a word was said.
Bruce stole a glance at his reflection on the mirror. A black suit Alfred picked for him, a W embroidery on its lapel, his hair was short now, shorter than he liked, all slicked back by hair gel, but nothing could hide the dark circles under his eyes or the lack of sun colour on his skin. Sometimes, just sometimes, Bruce wishes he didn’t have to wear normal clothes, to comb his hair, ties his bottoms; he wishes he could live inside the Batsuit. He felt like the suit was his own skin, her armour, him and Batman were on, there was no Bruce Wayne without Vengeance, they were bonded forever and could never be separated from each other. He wish they could, he wish he could be Batman alone; no press conferences, no reports, paparazzi, no “Bruce Wayne crowned prince of Gotham.”
The elevator stops and the door open. Alfred goes our first and greet some people outside, telling them where to go.
“You have 10 minutes, Bruce.” He warns, “I’ll get them stared and you wait here till I call you”
Bruce nods.
He sits down on a leather couch and waits, starring at the glass doors. All the reports and journalists waiting for him, men and women, from Gotham and other places of the world.
He’s nervous. Not nervous like he is before a fight, nervous he will be put on a corner, that he’ll be catch on a lie, nervous someone knows. It’s like someone in the next room it’s just waiting for him to appears, to stand up from their chair and ask ‘Are you the Batman?’
“Ladies and gentleman, Bruce Wayne” Alfred announces from the stage and glances at him.
Bruce works on his better smile he can put on and enters the stage; he’s received with thunderous applauses and blinding cameras flashes. He waves and sit on a chair, in a wooden desk in front of him is a glass of water and a microphone.
“Let’s get, started then” Alfred said, pointing to a woman in a grey dress standing with a microphone in her hand.
“Mr. Wayne, why did you decided to throw a press conference after years of reclusiveness?”
Bruce leans into her direction a bit.
“Well, I think all the events of the past year made me realize how much the Wayne Foundation means to Gotham and I’ve been a little reckless with that matter”
It was a good answer, he thought.
The following questions were easy too, “Mr. Wayne, how do you plan on taking care of the raised money? To prevent anything to happen again”, “What’s the difference between the Wayne Foundation and the Gotham Renewal Program?”, “What projects do you have in mind?”, and of course, some shallow questions, “What brand is your suit?”, “What car do you drive?”, question he almost laughed at. Did people actually wanted to know that?
Bruce was thinking how the conference was going well, easy, almost, not as he had pictured it before. Until…
“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”
He flinched for half a second, he opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Another woman asked something he didn’t quite hear with all that was going on inside his head, but the word Batman was also there. And then another, and another…
“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”
The room turned into a complete circus. Grown adults talking over each other, fighting for a turn on the microphone.
You rolled your eyes. This happens every time, someone thinks about the name Batman and suddenly everyone has something to say. What does it matter Bruce Wayne’s thought of the Batman? There were so much important questions to be asked, so much more to discover about that man’s life and projects than a simple opinion.
You were begging to regret the moment you accepted the offer to come to this conference. You weren’t a regular journalist, you didn’t know how to write an article about the weather, fashion trends, social events, you wrote about thing most journalist didn’t want to, thing that most people were scare to read. People scared of the truth. You weren’t. You would dig and dig until the raw verity came to surface, it didn’t matter where or who you had to dig.
The man who had introduced Mr. Wayne appeared again and announced the press conference. No fucking way, no without the answers you wanted, you didn’t take this job to watch other people ruin it.
Slowly, you got up from your sit and walked towards the person who as holding the microphone and gently pull it away from his hands.
“Mr. Wayne…” but the voices around you were too loud.
You gave the head of the mic a flick, the loud keen sound made the room come silent.
“Sorry.” You apologized. “Mr. Wayne, why did you felt the urge to re-open the school project at the marginalized neighbourhoods of Gotham after your father failed attempted?”   
The men was halfway leaving, but he turned around reluctant, staring right at you. Those piercing blue eyes roaming your face.
“Well, I believe the project needs a second chance. Children and teenagers should be given a chance to have a good education, it helps getting them out of the streets.” He answered, without the microphone his voice was low, but the silence of the room let you hear him loud and clear. “Who do you write for?”
“The Gotham Gazette” You answered proudly.
Mr. Wayne whispered something to the other man and sat back at the chair.
“Do you have any more questions, Miss…?”
You smile politely and told him your name.
“Would you say that the Wayne Foundation has an impact outside of Gotham?”
A ghost of a smile appeared on the man’s lips. You shook the urge to smile back at him.
You could tell he was a bit nervous, but he had answered the questions with manners and the right words, maybe he didn’t notice, but he’s quite good at it.
“Yes. I think the work we do on the Foundation inspires people to do the same. If it works out, we can show the world that if there was hope for Gotham there’s hope for them too”
“Do you think there’s hope for Gotham?” You asked, out of spite, because you didn’t write it down before the press.
His lips contracted to a thin line and he thought of it for a few seconds before answering:
“Yes. As long as people like me and you care about what happens here, there’s still hope for the city”
You smiles.
“People like me?”
“You seem to know a lot about the charity work, and you care enough to show it to the world”
Your smile grew bigger and you felt a hint of warm rushing through your cheeks.
Mr. Wayne answered a few more of your questions before the press conference was over.
You were, oh, so proud of yourself. The information you gathered was perfect for what you had in mind and for sure, you could make it a good article. An admiring of the Wayne legacy, that’s what you called yourself. It has always called out to you what that wealth family did; they had no obligation to do it, to donate not just money, but time and resources to help those who couldn’t have what they did, to make Gotham something to be proud of. It’s a shame they never lived long enough to cure it, to heal it. However, you hoped that, maybe, Bruce did. At least he sound determined to.  
You gathered your things and your purse, but as you made your way to the elevator, a woman dresses on formal clothes approached you with a clean, sharp smile that made her look like a dental paste commercial.
“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind, following me?”
You frowned.
“Ahn…What for?”
“Mr. Wayne wishes to speak to you” She explained and her smile somehow grew wider.
Standing there for a few seconds, all you could do was nod as you followed her through a long corridor. What was happening right now? He wants to speak to you? Bruce Wayne wishes to speak to a journalist in private? And more important, to you.
She opened a door to a breath-taking office.
Right in front of you was a full wall window, a panoramic view of Gotham in all its “glory”, skyscrapers, apartment buildings, the clock tower, the bridge of the river, the field behind the road, you could see everything from up there. There was a wooden desk in front of the window, quite empty, and a chair that looked more comforting than any other you had ever sat.
When the woman closed the door behind you, your attention changed to the man standing on your left. Bruce Wayne was staring at you dead in the eyes with a facial expression of someone who just saw a ghost.
This guy seriously need some sunbathing. You shook that thought out of your head.
“Mr. Wayne. You wanted to speak to me?”
“Yes” His raspy voice responded. “Sit, please”
You took a seat on one of the chairs in front of the chair and he sat opposite of you, behind the desk, diving completely into the velvet chair. He crosses his fingers and stares at you again. It made you a little uncomfortable, he did that a lot, like a hunter watching its prey.
“So…”
“I’ve searched your work. You’re really good.”
“Thank you, sir”
“You won a Pulitzer, am I right?”
“Yes, a few years ago”
When did he get the time to read all this information? It’s not like you’re super famous, even the Pulitzer wasn’t a very known prize if you didn’t know the industry.
“For a book about a serial killer in Detroit” He said, a voice that verged into an interrogation tone. “The Divine Move?”
You blinked a few times.
“I…Yes. Nathan Walters.”
He lifted his eyebrows just an inch, telling you to continue the story.
You cleared your throat.
“He uh, he used to be the altar boy of the neighbourhood church and he chose his victims based on the sins he supposed they’ve committed.” You’ve shorten it, you couldn’t understand why a billionaire was asking you about the modus operandi of a criminal who was thousands of miles away.  “Why are you asking me this, if I may ask, Mr. Wayne?”
“You’re an investigative journalist. Why are you attending press conferences of a random billionaire?”
You supressed a laugh. Random.
“I grew up here, sir. I’ve always admired your family work, I took the opportunity when it was offered to me.”
“You seem to know a lot about my family history.”
“Like I said, I’m just an admiring. Although, I once thought of writing a book about the Wayne Legacy. Your legacy, sir.”
“Your legacy, sir”.
Bruce looked down at his cufflinks, the W prominent on a silvery material.
His legacy.
He once thought the Wayne Foundation was his legacy. But now he knew, his true legacy came in a bat shaped suit and sleepless nights; it came on purple coloured bruises and blood stained clothes.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well…it’s very hard to write about something when you only get superficial information.”
You were nervous, he could tell. You kept staring at the view behind him, or at your shoes, tanking a little too long to answer his questions. He wondered how could a journalist gets nervous, almost shy.
He gave you a puzzled look, not using any words to express his question. But you understood it.
“Using material that was wrote by someone else. All the records and stories about your parents have already been wrote by someone else before me, so I couldn’t say it was my work, could I?”
He hummed.
Bruce took a sigh. Maybe. Maybe this was a good idea, it could keep him in a good status with the press, plus, he’d be able to hide even further down his secret identity, having a journalist with him every day? No one would suspect his the Batman.
“There are stories and details that haven’t been told.”
You bit your lower lip.
He stared at you.
“What are you implying, sir?”
“If I tell you the stories, would you write it?”
“If I tell you the stories, would you write it?”
You almost passed out.
Would you?
Who could say they had a proposal like that? Dig into the secrets of the Wayne family?
“Yes”.
___________________
a/n2: aaaah this is actually so boring I'm so sorry, also I think I made bruce a little more talkative than I would've but anyways I may change it yet.
a special thank you to @preciouslandmermaid for inspiring me to finally write this!! <3
230 notes · View notes
irrevocableloves · 7 months
Text
violent delights masterlist
Tumblr media
twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader
summary: y/n swan has lived in forks all of her life, but when she takes her summer-long vacation to california to visit her mother, she returns to a strange new family accompanying the small town.
chapter one: the city of forks welcomes you
chapter two: golden topaz
chapter three: was it really luck?
chapter four: regret
chapter five: blood type
chapter six: an old scary story
chapter seven: port angeles
last updated on: 11/14/23
IM SO SORRY I HAVENT UPDATED I PLAN ON WRITING AGAIN SOON 💔💔 (2/4/24)
taglist ₊˚⊹♡
333 notes · View notes