theblue6ook
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(English is not my first language, so please ignore any mistakes! :-))
Ok I've been imagining a scenario that for some reason Martha and Thomas Wayne are brought back from the dead...
One day they are dead and the other they are starting at their graves, reading their names and being very confused.
Alfred probably finds them first, he looks out the window and sees two people standing in the family cemetery, Wayne Manor had problems in the past with grave robbers, and he would be damned if he let that happen with their grave. So poor Alfred runs, grabbing some old shovel on the way (just to scare, not to harm!), ready to give an ear full on these people. That's when he sees. His friends.
He's surprised to say the least. They don't look young, the years they were gone caught up to them. Thomas has mostly grey hair and Martha had a white strip of hair right in the top of her head...
Alfred doesn't know what to do, so he brings them inside. And starts to prepare some tea while he tries to explain the past 30 something years.
The next person who sees them is Dick, he smelled the tea and was going to get a cup, then he saw the people in the painting on the top of the stairs. And he panicked. Cuz he knows what that implies, and he is worried for his dad.
He introduces himself as 'Bruce's son' which gets them to be a very happy set of grandparents, he tells them the story of when Bruce adopted him (cuz grandpa wanted to meet his mom, in the end he got a nice and tragic story of the flying Grayson's)! And how he always wanted to meet them! He also text Jason, telling him to get his ass downstairs and talk to his family.
Jason almost had a heart attack, he thought that Dick wanted him to talk to Bruce not grandpa and grandma, he's very happy of course, but he's worried for them, resurrection isn't something nice, but they assure him they are as good as they could be. And it is his turn to explain that he's also adopted (they laughed at the tire story, he told them it was one of Bruce's "fancy cars"). He comments that he and Martha have matching hair (both with a white stripe right in the middle).
Tim comes home around noon, he's been spending time with some school friends, and when he hears some commotion in the kitchen he goes to investigate, that's when he sees them and thinks he's hallucinating (again), but he's reassured by a very happy grandma. He tells them he's 'Tim Drake-Wayne', and is his time to explain that no Bruce didn't marry a Drake, he is his legal guardian (aka Dad) cuz when his parents died on a archaeological excavation his uncle was not fit to be his guardian so Bruce stepped up.
Thomas and Martha are so happy in a couple of hours they went from being dead to having 3 beautiful grandchildren! They are very proud of Bruce for making a difference in these boys lives!
That's when Damian walks in the kitchen he just wanted Alfred's help with something, he looks just like Bruce when he was that age (or what they think Bruce would look like), he doesn't look surprised or excited, he just says that he's Bruce's 'biological son', which gets one of his ears pinched by Dick with a very stern 'be nice'. Before they can ask anything they're being hugged by Damian who says that it is nice to have them in here.
When Bruce comes home he's very tired™, he had a day full of meetings on Wayne enterprises and he still gotta do Batman stuff. He passed through the kitchen and saw that his kids had guests over. He doesn't think much of it until he gives a good look at them.
"Mama? Papa?"
And the world stopped spinning. That's them! All he wanted to see since he was an 8 year old little boy. He just doesn't believe it.
He looks just like his dad. Probably a bit shorter (and not rocking the mustache), but he has his mama's eyes. And her smile. He missed her smile so much! He missed his papa's hugs, he missed the lullabies his mama used to sing, he missed playing pretend with his papa, he missed them.
And he can't say a word. He just cries. He hugs them and he cries. His mama and papa are really back! They are back home!
And now it's his turn to catch up! And boy he's got a lot to say!
As they move to the living room Thomas gives this look to Alfred, smiles and says "Thank you for caring for our little boy, old friend!"
"Little boy? I'm sorry Mister Wayne, but that's an understatement. He's almost taller than the cabinets!"
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A Mundane Day
Summary: Is it ever really mundane office life as Bruce Wayne’s assistant? Bruce saves Y/N’s brothers from suspension.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader
a/n: Hello, hello. I hope everyone enjoys this fic. If I forgot to add you to the tag list please let me know! Enjoy :) [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]
It was 3 pm. Bruce stretched, rising from his desk chair, with a groan. If he was lucky, he could take a nap before his night shift. Glancing at his desk, he sighed at the files there. A mix of his cases with Bane and Wayne Enterprise documents. He felt like groaning as he sorted them out and threw his case files into his briefcase. Pulling the Wayne Enterprise documents into a stack, he slipped a paperclip at the top to secure it.
It had been a relatively boring day. There weren't many meetings or executives to debate with, just lots of paperwork. Everyone was getting ready for the next quarter, and the files were coming in hot. Not to mention, he and Y/N hadn’t been the most comfortable around each other. After her broken engagement and falling asleep in each other's arms, it was like walking on eggshells. No one knew where the other stood, and Y/N had just become single. Bruce didn’t want to be that guy. So, they were lightly stepping around each other, waiting for the other to crack.
It sounds so immature or superficial to think about with everything else going on in his life. Paperwork, cases, and patrol, and here he is worrying about how to interact with a girl. How old is he, fifteen? But still, he couldn't help himself but think back to her body. How it molded against his, pressed chest to chest, with knees knocking. The sweats she wore still smell like her. It made him want to dunk himself in cold water. Tell himself to forget it. After what happened to Rachel, he knew he shouldn't. She barely made it away from him with her life, and she was lucky all she got was feargassed. Y/N deserved better than that.
Stepping out of his office and into Y/N's. She sat quietly at her desk with her blue light glasses tucked into her hair, knawing on a red pen. She was in intense focus. He silently handed her his stack of files, and she quietly mumbled a thank you, still focused on the work in front of her. Bruce moved to the coat rack to slip on his jacket with mild difficulty. Last night, he tried following one of Bane's freighter trucks. It had not gone well for him.
Finally, he shrugged the coat on in one motion, trying to minimize the pain as much as he could, while hoping to appear as normal as possible. Y/N glanced up at him as he prepared to leave, but once he shrugged his coat on, his button-down shirt slipped forward, and a bruise appeared bright and uncovered.
The bruise was a bright, ugly purple that took up a large chunk of his collarbone and peck. Her eyes widened, "Oh my god, Bruce."
Bruce smiled lightly, playfully rolling his eyes. She used his first name. It never happened much unless she was either outstandingly pleased or uncomfortably serious. Bruce loved it and would take it either way, especially since it broke the silence.
Y/N rounded the desk in a flash and took him by the collar. She pulled his face down to her level, trying to get a good view of the bruise. Bruce again rolled his eyes, trying to act like it was no big deal. Slowly, he worked to pull away, but she manhandled him, pulling him back down harder, popping the top button on his shirt. He tried to act oblivious, "Y/N, what are you doing? You know, if anyone else did this, it would be harassment."
Y/N watched the bruise silently, with her brows furrowed. She looked over the top of his shoulder down to his peck. Without thinking ahead, she stuck out her hand and placed her cold palm on his warm chest. He tensed. At the temperature or her touch, she wasn't sure, but she smoothed her hand over the bruise. It was like ink had stained his skin. She looked up at him, frowning. He was closer than she thought, her nose almost hitting his chin. "What is this?"
“A bruise,” he stated plainly. Her eyebrow rose, and Bruce sighed, “I’ve been spelunking.”
“Spelunking?” she said quickly, “What is spelunking?”
“A rich man's sport.”
“Mr.Wayne-”
“It’s cave exploration,” he admitted, smirking down at her.
“If people belonged in caves, they would be there,” she was interrupted by a harsh ring. Pausing, she looked up at him once more, “This conversation is not over. You stay there.”
He thought about making his exit, but she would no doubt follow him whether she was on the phone, or not.
She cleared her throat, “Bruce Wayne’s office this is Y/N… Yes, this is she… What? You’re kidding… Yes, yes I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can… Okay, thank you.”
Covering her face with her hands, she groaned. She moved on quickly, though, shoving files in her bag. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing.” Bruce raised his eyebrow at her, and she looked over her shoulder at him, “My brothers are in the principal's office. I have to go pick them up and talk to the office about it. If I leave now, I can catch the bus-”
"I can drive you-"
"That's really not necessary-"
"Y/N, don't be ridiculous. Come on." He walked out of their office with a swagger, as if she didn't just catch the bruise on his collarbone and she really had no choice but to follow him.
"Didn't Alfred drop you off?" she called after him, "I don't want to bother him."
"No," he laughed, "I can drive myself, you know."
They took the elevator down to the garage, and in his own personal spot was a four-seat, scissor-door Gordan Murray. Y/N had only heard about this car. It was over two million dollars, in a sparkling black that reflected blue in the sun. Oh, she wanted to drive that car.
He looked behind him and flipped her door open, "You getting in?"
She didn't know what to do but laugh. Come on he mumbled grabbing her bag and slipping it in the back before she got in the car. He closed it behind her like a gentleman. The interior was a mix of black and white leather. The seats were peak comfort and she wondered if this was what heaven was like.
The car rode like a beauty and they sat in blissful silence for some time. She saw Bruce glancing at her every now and then, curiously. She finally said, “What’s up?”
Truth be told, he was observing her. He needed to see if he had crossed a line when he pulled her into his arms. All he wanted to do was blurt out did I make you uncomfortable? Would you do it again? But everything in his head told him it would only lead to disaster, so he opted to ask a different question. “Two brothers then?”
“Two brothers in trouble,” she replied.
“Parents couldn’t help out?”
Y/N laughed dryly, “I’m their guardian and emergency contact when it comes to school. We keep Frank out of it.”
“Frank?”
She sighed and spoke cooly, “My dad.”
Her cool tone seemed annoyed by the topic, but Bruce could tell her body language was anxious. Nodding silently, he decided not to pry. Bruce wasn’t even sure where he stood with Y/N, he’d rather not test his luck asking questions about her family, so they rode once again in blissful silence.
Pulling into the school parking lot, Bruce pulled Y/N’s hand away from the door handle and moved out of the car to open the door for her. He had another pleasant memory of his mother, be a gentleman, Brucie, pop into his head. It had become second nature to him now. As Y/N stepped out of the car, she noticed Bruce stepped with her toward the school. Turning to him, she said, “You don’t have to come with me.”
“I drove you here,” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him and he shrugged. “Honestly, I’m kind of in it now.”
Y/N huffed, turning to reluctantly walk inside, and Bruce followed after her. Y/N knew if she really pushed, he would have stayed by the car, but she didn’t even feel like arguing. She had enough on her mind. Fighting, she thought, I’m gonna kill them. Buzzing into the office, she turned quickly to him, pointing at one of the chairs sat in the office lobby, “You can sit there.”
“Whatever you want. I’m here for moral support,” Bruce replied as he plopped into one of the plastic, cushioned seats.
Liar, Y/N thought as she approached the receptionist's desk. The receptionist, an older woman with a shorter, choppy haircut, had given Y/N the basic rundown of what happened, but it felt like a few details were missing. Some boys were arguing over an article with Carl, and it caused a little tiff between them when Lucas got involved, and that’s when the… physical violence started, she had relayed to Y/N. What article? Why did Lucas get involved? Who was Carl fighting with? It wasn’t making sense.
“You can follow me,” she said. She moved behind the desk to lead her over to the principal's office, but not before glancing over at Bruce Wayne and looking back towards Y/N with a curious look. Y/N mumbled, confused, “After you.”
Bruce had sat nice and close to the entrance of the principal's office. He wanted to be in range if Y/N needed anything. Not that she would, but just in case. God, what is wrong with him?
“Why would you fight him?” she scolded, sharply.
He could hear her brother try to defend himself, “He needed help!”
So, that must be Lucas.
“He needs mental help,” she teased back. “Seriously, you’re already on your third strike. What’s going on?”
“They were talking shit about you,” Bruce could hear who he could only assume was Carl mumble. That’s my cue.
It seemed as if Bruce had manifested in the doorway, “What’d they said about your sister?”
“What are you doing in here?!” she bellowed at him. Bruce took in the situation. Y/N was squatted in front of her brothers, who sat in similarly uncomfortable cheap chairs as they had in the lobby. She had her hands placed on their forearms, in a comforting manner. The oldest one, Lucas, looked like he was maturing well. He could see similarities between him and Y/N, but for the most part, he had his own individual look. His eyes were bordering on sunken in, and his cheek sported black and blue from his fight earlier. The second boy Y/N was with had to be Carl. He looked younger and impressionable. He clung to Y/N’s arm as if she hung the moon and sported a black eye and busted lip. Not only that, he was the spitting image of Y/N, but that wasn’t even the most shocking part. There at the desk was no one. No principal. Not a single person.
“Where is your principal?” he responded, unbothered.
Carl stared up at Bruce Wayne flabbergasted, “Holy shit.”
“Don’t swear,” Y/N said with clenched teeth. “You need to go sit in the lobby-”
“Sorry, I’m late, Ms.Y/L/N,” the principal stepped in. “I had to settle a matter with the other student.” Their principal, a stout man with a slick combover, looked over at Bruce Wayne with what seemed to be slight shock and then a knowing look. He cleared his throat and gestured to the two empty chairs. “Please sit down. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Wayne.”
“I’m sorry he really doesn’t need to be here-”
“No, it’s fine,” he said, interrupting her. Bruce looked over at Y/N and gestured his hand for her to sit first. She was embarrassed enough as it was, she really didn’t want him to hear about her dysfunctional family here, at her brothers' school, of all places.
“I’m sorry,” Y/N broke the silence, “Where are the other student's parents? I’d like to speak to them about this whole situation.”
“Well, that would be me, Ms.Y/L/N.” You have got to be fucking kidding me. Y/N looked over at Bruce in disbelief. Should the principal be handling situations his own son is involved in? She certainly didn’t think so.
“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate,” Bruce started, “to be handling your own child’s punishment? Regarding the situation, I mean.” Y/N gave him a sideways glance telling him it wasn’t his place to butt in, but he seemed to ignore it.
“Mr.Wayne,” the principal seemed to become defensive quickly, “I don’t suggest you put your nose into other people's business. These aren’t your kids.” Wasn’t he the one to tell Bruce to sit in? Y/N became visibly annoyed.
“As a donator,” Bruce smirked, and Y/N felt her ears perk up, “I just can’t support a school that handles issues in such a way. You understand?”
The principal’s face turned white, and every negative feeling Y/N had about Bruce Wayne, had dissipated. She could kiss him on the mouth.
Oh, he was good. He was so good at getting around people, getting exactly what he wanted to be. She felt a sigh of relief leave her chest, and Bruce placed a knowing hand on her knee. He was letting her know, I’ve got you.
-
After the sour meeting with Carl and Lucas's principal, Y/N had suggested she and the boys take the bus home, despite her brother's protests. Bruce simply wouldn't allow it; he had other plans for the four of them. So here they all sat at Lucy’s Pancakes, a breakfast diner near the office. Y/N couldn’t even be bothered to be annoyed with the change in plans after Bruce’s stunt earlier. Her brothers might have been suspended if he hadn’t stepped in.
So she pleasantly ate her Choc-O-Chunk pancakes sitting across from Bruce Wayne, who looked like peak domesticity. He gave his full attention to her brothers, answering their every question and whim. With his shirt slightly unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, she couldn't help but grin. It was all too sweet.
Her brothers threw all kinds of questions at him.
How much was your car?
What do you even do?
How did you meet our sister?
How much money do you have?
How many girls have you dated?
“So you broke up Y/N and Russ huh? I’d call it an upgrade.”
Y/N swore her head had completely swiveled when Carl asked that question. Bruce looked up at her, unsure how he should respond. He had to remind himself it wasn't his place, but he found himself shaking his head anyway. Y/N raised her eyebrows, "Carl, what?! No-"
Bruce cleared his throat and slipped out of the booth, "I think I should go pay the check."
Y/N couldn't help but feel so embarrassed, watching Bruce head toward the cashier. "Okay, not funny, Carl. What are you talking about?"
“You didn’t see the article?” he asked.
"That asshole kid was saying you were Bruce Wayne's bitch," Lucas said angrily, "Carl headbutted him."
"The article in the Daily Planet,” Carl handed her his cracked iPhone. There on the screen was her and Bruce at her birthday dinner. Y/N was photographed with Bruce’s arm on her bare waist, fingertips dipping into her dress. He was whispering in her ear in the picture, and she blushed about as red as her dress, but other than that, she looked good. It was the headline that shocked her. Bruce Wayne Breaks Up Assistant’s Engagement By Lois Lane. She snatched the phone out of her brother's hand.
Bruce Wayne’s assistant, Y/F/N Y/L/N, was seen at The Ocelot wearing her engagement ring, but where was it the next day? Bruce Wayne might be the answer.
Sources say the bachelor's assistant was involved in a four-year engagement with her high school sweetheart, Danny Russell. After witnesses saw Wayne mingling with Y/L/N in the Ocelot, the assistant appeared ringless as she walked into Wayne Enterprises the next day. Sounds like a classic romance trope to me-
“This is bullshit,” Y/N read.
“I dunno,” Lucas spoke pointing to the picture. “You look pretty close there.”
She slapped his hand out of the way, “Bruce is not the reason I’m done with Russ-”
“Your sister was lucky to dump that cheater,” Bruce emerged again, placing a tip down on the table.
Carl turned toward Y/N for confirmation. Once he realized it was true, his eyes turned cold, “I’ll burn his house down.”
“He couldn’t afford a house and even if he could it’s none of your business,” she spoke pushing Carl’s head down, “now eat your pancakes.”
@pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt @maxinehufflepuffprincess @padsfirewhisky @moejoeflow @pank0w @qardasngan
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I really don't like the narrative of "Bruce thinks if he hadn't made Jason Robin, Jason would have ended up as a criminal."
I much, much prefer the narrative Robins (2021-) gave us. Jason knows he did illegal stuff to survive. He did what he had to do. But has been called a crook, a criminal, a kingpin and similar stuff so many times and yeah, he is one, that he believes this narrative of "oh, I so would have ended up as a criminal." Jason does not have a high opinion of himself. He knows his skills, he knows what he is, but his self worth isn't big.
And then you have Bruce. Who doesn't think that at all. He expects Dick and Stephanie to still be heroes if they hadn't been Robin. But Jason? No. Jason would be successful. He would use his skills, combine it with a passion and help others that way. In #5, they were all in a simulation based on Bruce's idea of what their lives would've been if they hadn't been Robins. And Jason? Jason is a famous race car driver. So good that he wins and wins and wins. He has his own charity dedicated to his mother. Every single penny he wins goes to that charity.
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A fanfic idea:
Bruce was able to rescue Jason before he died, and after this experience, Jason stopped being Robin.
He became afterwards the golden child, he goes to college (with a scholarship), helps out in the city library, teaches children (helps with their homeworks and helps them to study), works part time in a car garage in crime alley, and is a supportive brother.
And it pisses his siblings off.
Because there has to be something fishy because no one, really no one, is that perfect.
And there is something fishy.
He is also Red Hood.
No one knows, and the vigilantes never talk to Jason about "the family business" because he needs to concentrate on his studies and other stuff.
So imagine, Batmans suprise when the JL was able to catch Red Hood.
Someone takes Jasons helmet off in front of Batman, Nightwing, and other members
And Jason, who wears also a domino mask, doesn't look Batman in the face even as he says :
"Hey Dad. I can explain."
And Dick loses his shit, he laughs so hard because, Jason, The golden child, the one who gave up on being a vigilante, who reads to children in the library, is a goddamn crimelord.
Bruce just stands there frozen because wtf Jason?!
And Dick takes selfies with Jason being tied up and calles the other Batkids in because they should definitely not be left out of it.
(Edit: As someone who doesn't really write (or can write good stories), I want to say, feel free to use this prompt for a fanfiction. Just please give credits to me (because I don't know if someone else had also this idea and posted it) and please inform me if you publish something (because I want to read a fanfiction like this too))
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you mean TO TELL ME i have to WRITE my OWN FANFIC?!?!?!?!
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Other Lovers PT 4
Summary: After, Y/N’s ex-fiance cheated on her, she is in a state of depession and acceptance. Her ex is in the stage of bargaining.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader
a/n: Hello everyone. I’m back. Sorry, these were up later than they were supposed to be and thank you for being patient during my personal emergency. I also have two fics coming out soon! We’ll be back to our normally scheduled uploads ;) [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]
Y/N was typically the early bird at the office. It was normal to see her trotting in around 6 am. She was a classic worker bee with a never-ending workload. Today was different. She officially arrived at the office around 4 am, still sporting her silk red gown. Mud and rubble hung from the wet hem. Blotchy and swollen from crying, her eye makeup barely clung to her cheeks.
Not sure where to go, or what to do, she lay on the Wayne Enterprise balcony, Level Fifteen. The sky was a deep, silky black. Y/N stared up into the dark void. She saw nothing. Honestly, you could never really see the stars in Gotham, not with the thick smog, but still, she stared, lying on the cold concrete.
If anyone saw her here, she was sure she would get fired. Or should be.
Y/N couldn't even remember what prompted her to come here. After catching Russ at Mary Anne's, or I guess catching him in his new apartment, she just started walking. It was completely on impulse. She didn't have a destination in mind, and yet, somehow, here she was. At the office, bathed in sweet darkness.
Her bare back pressed against the gritty concrete, hair fanning around her head. She slid her fingertips over her bare ring finger. It felt freeing. It felt lonely. My best friend of nine years. Gone. Sighing, she squinted up once against, trying to find the tiny lights behind the clouds. They were there. Somewhere.
-
Bruce perched on The Waldorf, one of the nearby buildings, and stared at Y/N, who lay emotionless. The black Gotham sky moved above her, surrounding her in inky darkness. She stopped crying a little over two hours ago but still did not move from her spot on the balcony. Bruce sighed, stepping off the rooftop to move in her direction.
He swung up onto Wayne Enterprises and moved into the penthouse. Still covered in his cowl and leather, Bruce moved toward his bedroom to grab some clothes. His goal was to get her off the balcony and out of the office before the morning workers started showing up. You can only keep employees off a closed level for so long, and he didn't want to raise suspicions.
Grabbing a plain black sweatshirt, Bruce swiftly tugged off his armored leathers and pulled the soft material over his head. He could blame his sweat on a morning workout. Throwing on some grey joggers, he took his personal elevator down to level fifteen. It only took him a few steps off the elevator before he could see her through the window panes. She laid still. Bruce would have thought she was asleep if it wasn't for her wide eyes still staring at the sky. Sliding the door open, Y/N sat up quickly and covered herself with her arms, shocked. It was almost as if she had just realized she was still wearing her silk gown.
Quickly and embarrassed, she asked, "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" Bruce leaned against the doorframe, waiting for a response. Y/N turned away from him and huffed, laying back down. It didn't seem like she even knew the answer. "No one knew where you were. Not Carrie. Not Alfred. I was upstairs, so I figured I'd see if you were here."
"What were you doing at the office at 6 am?"
"At my penthouse, Y/N."
"Oh." Honestly, she had forgotten he had a penthouse. Bruce's richness tends to allude her. Hesitantly, she flipped her phone over, flicking the screen on. Six missed calls from Carrie. Seven from Alfred. She was so fucking screwed. "Shit."
Finally, Bruce walked over to her and bent down beside her. He tilted his head, looking at her. She sat in a damp dress, and her makeup had run down her cheeks, but she was still Y/N. He put his hands around hers and said quietly, "C'mon, let's get you upstairs. I'll let Alfred and Carrie know I found you."
Y/N finally looked up at him and lightly nodded. Pulling her off the ground, Bruce embraced her, rubbing his hands up and down her cold arms. Finally, he led her inside the office and up to the penthouse.
The penthouse held a different vibe than the office. Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of it. While the office had been consistently updated to balance the flow of working people, the penthouse seemed frozen in time. It held a gothic charm, something that could only be described as Old Gotham. Large, cathedral-like windows covered the living room wall, and jewel tones littered the surrounding area. It was similar in wood tone and style to Bruce's office now that she thought of it. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if this is what Wayne Enterprises had looked like in its heyday.
Placing his hand on the small of her back, Bruce led her to one of the plush leather sofas. He placed his hands on her biceps and spoke softly to her, "I should go tell Alfred and Carrie that I found you, but if you want to wash up, there's a bathroom in that room over there, okay?"
Y/N nodded once again, seeming to have lost all interest in talking. How could she talk when she was just so embarrassed? Not only did she call her engagement off, but now her boss had to take care of her. As Bruce walked off, she threw her head back groaning, and stood, heading towards the bathroom.
It's probably not employee etiquette to shower at your boss's house, but Y/N needs one. So she turned on the water. Hot. So hot, it almost burned her skin. She felt like she needed to scrub violently. Wash every cell Russ had ever touched, caressed, loved. The water pattered against the tile floors, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out her thoughts. What Russ had done had finally, really sunk in. It was branded into her mind. The way he thrashed against Mary Anne. The way he raised his hand to her. It was engraved into her bones.
She lifted her head to the faucet, letting the water run down her face. It was all getting so overwhelming. The fan. The water. The silence. The thoughts. Knocking. There was knocking. She quickly shut the water off. Wiping her face with a towel. How long had she been in here? “Yeah?”
“I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving some clothes out for you. I have to go run down to the office. There’s a meeting.”
“I can come with you-”
“No. Stay up here.”
Throwing a towel around her, she approached the door and cracked it a decent amount. “I can seriously change and come with you.”
“I think you should stay up here," he argued, "Mental vacation.”
“I don’t want a mental vacation.”
“You’re taking one.”
“Fine,” she sighed.
“I’ll be back in 30," his eyes quickly darted to her bare legs, "Just get comfortable and hang out until I'm back."
She watched him look back at her one last time before finding his way out of the bedroom. Turning toward the bed, she noticed a pair of sweats neatly folded. She picked up the sweatshirt, folded it in her hands, and slipped off her towel. You never realize how tall a person is until you try on their clothes, and this pair of sweats swallowed her whole. She had noticed they looked worn well. Curious, she brought the sweatshirt up to her nose and breathed in. The scent could only be described as Bruce.
There was a light hint of cologne, something expensive, surely, but overtop of that, she could smell rain. Gotham rain and leather. These were no back closet finds. These were his. She wasn't sure why she felt surprised. It was his penthouse, and they were his clothes, but the sentiment made her grin.
Stepping out of the bedroom, her pants dragged against the ground. She stepped over to the leather couch once again and buried herself into the pillows. Staring up at the ornate ceiling, she grabbed her phone off the coffee table, ready for the insane amount of calls that awaited her.
She turned her phone in her hand and finally switched off the Do Not Disturb. She expected calls from Carrie or Alfred, but immediately a call from Russ came through. She denied it. Another call from Russ. Denied. Looking through her phone history, he had now called seventeen times. Lighting up her screen once more, there was another call from Russ. Frustrated, she answered it.
“Usually when someone is denying your calls it’s because they don’t want to fucking talk to you.”
“Babe-”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not anything to you. Clearly.”
“It wasn’t like that. It was a mistake. After, all the things we’ve been through Y/N-”
“That’s what makes it so much worse. All of that and still you find someone else-”
“It wasn’t like that-”
“You were moving in together, Russ!” She sat up, angrily.
“I made one mistake. One fucking mistake, Y/N. I don’t think that’s worth giving up on us.” She rolled her eyes. Here he goes again, saying the same shit.
"Maybe it's you, Russ. Maybe you're not fucking worth it," she spat at him, tears in her eyes again. She didn't mean that, and she knew it, but some part of her hurt, and it wanted him to hurt too.
“You think it’s been easy with you? You think you’re a cakewalk, Y/N. I just needed someone who’s not all about work all the time. Someone who makes time for me.”
“Great. Hope you got her.”
“You’re not better than me, Y/N. You’re not.”
“I never said I was.”
“No, but you’re acting like it,” he said. “Besides your job, what do you even bring to the table?”
“What table, Russ? You can’t afford one.”
She heard him promptly cut the line. Angrily, she chucked the phone into the couch diagonal from her. Russ was always like this. A glass canon. He could dish it out, but the minute it came back around, he could never take the heat. Hearing a ding come from the elevator, she turned with a frustrated look on her face.
“Woah,” Bruce raised his hands, “I’m back early I know, but let's take a breath.”
Y/N rubbed at her eyes, and looked back up at him, “You went down to the meeting in sweats?”
“I said I was going. I didn’t say I was looking nice," he defended himself, and for the first time in fourteen hours, Y/N began to chuckle. Gradually, her chuckle turned into a deep laugh, and she laughed hard. "Oh god. What is my life? I can't believe you went down there like that."
“I look better than you did earlier,” he said, plopping down beside her. “Besides, I didn’t really sleep last night. I’m tired, cut me some slack.”
“Yeah, same,” she whispered.
Silently, Bruce sat thinking. He looked over at her one more time before opening his arms to wrap around her. She let him wrap his hands around her waist, but she didn't expect him to pull them down onto the couch. Pushing up onto his chest, she looked at him bewildered. He glanced at her with a lazy grin, “Let’s just take an hour-long power nap. Right here.”
“You do know you have like seven beds up here right?” she whispered to him, like they were the only people in the world.
Bruce grinned at her once more, opening her arms to give her a chance to escape. Instead, Y/N grinned back. Just this once, she was going to cut herself some slack. Slowly, she leaned down, placing her cheek against his jaw, and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Their bodies easily slid together, legs molding, arms wrapping around each other. The scent of leather and rain flooded her senses. She had never felt so safe.
@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess
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I everyone! I just wanted to let you know I had a personal emergency this past weekend, but the update on Out of My League is coming. I’ve written several fics I’m super proud of so I hope you enjoy them! The first one should be up by tonight.
Happy Eclipse Day!
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non-gotham locals think the most prolific bat-villain is the joker, or scarecrow, even the riddler — or any of their assorted highly dangerous deluded rogues.
but a real gothamite knows how big a pain in the ass condiment king is, in fact, urban legend says that the bat kids have formed a pact to not tell batman if condiment king just happens to turn up… at the bottom of gotham harbor.
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"Other Lovers" PT 3
Summary: Y/N is realizing the end of her relationship with Russ is near. Bruce is realizing he might like Y/N more than he leads on.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader
a/n: Hello lovelies. There will be a part four to this. There will be some flirting happening here with Bruce and Y/N so stay tuned. [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname] Apart of my Out of My League series btw.
Bruce did not regard himself as a touchy, feely person. In fact, many people called him detached. Even as Bachelor Bruce, he wasn’t a big toucher, but he could not keep his hands off of Y/N. He knew Rachel noticed. He knew his staff noticed. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was just so comfortable with her.
It honestly had happened out of nowhere. She hadn’t even been his assistant long, maybe a few months? But they spent almost every single day together; it was hard not to get comfortable. Everything in him, especially The Bat, was telling him to knock it off, but he couldn’t. His hands traced her shoulder, walking her into the green room. He was excited to show her the present that awaited them. Her shoulder tensed with surprise when she noticed the large cake towards the center of the room. His hand slid down the curve of her spine toward her waist. Fingertips playing with her silk dress.
Y/N couldn’t help but feel guilty, her heart speeding up as she felt his fingertips press into the flesh at her waist. She giggled, slightly overwhelmed. She wasn’t sure whether to focus on the singing, the cake illuminating the center of the room, or Bruce’s body heat against her back.
He had leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I hope this makes up for earlier. Happy Birthday.”
His lips almost grazed the shell of her ear. Firmly, she held onto his arm against her waist to steady her. Clapping erupted, interrupting her fogged mind and bringing her back to the cruel reality. I am engaged. I am engaged, and I don’t want to be. Despite her initial attitude with Bruce Wayne, he was him. She was glad he wasn't necessarily the bachelor everyone made him out to be. He was smart and funny and so stubborn. He was gorgeous. That's one thing the papers didn't lie about; they almost didn't even do him justice. She could feel every hard curve of his skin against her back.
She turned to smile at him, speaking over the clapping, “What is this cake?!”
“It’s huge!” Carrie interjected, taking her hand off Bruce’s arm to clap as well.
"You didn't think I'd get you a cake on your birthday?" he grinned teasingly. "Are you surprised?"
“I’m surprised,” she hugged him tightly, and he returned it just as tight.
The birthday activities had resumed in various ways. Bruce had to sneak off and entertain his vast amount of guests. Carrie and Y/N feasted on birthday cake, then dinner, then cake again. It was a magical affair. She felt pleasantly drunk off cocktails, and Carrie giggled at Y/N’s lightheadedness. They decided to do a lap around the restaurant; it was like nothing they had ever seen before. Each room had a different color scheme; every table was set to the high heavens. It was like what she had imagined while reading The Great Gatsby. Once they had explored enough, they came back to the green room only to notice a crowd was gathering.
Bruce had to work fast. As stupid as this seemed, he desperately needed a distraction. One of Bane’s followers was here. Bruce caught him parading around as a waiter when he took him out, discretely, of course. They had been looking for their target, the CEO of Ace Chemicals, and though he had handled the waiter, there was no telling if there was another one of Bane’s goons in the area. So, Bruce needed a distraction while his staff politely escorted the CEO out, and he needed one fast. He needed a crowd. He needed people.
Y/N turned to her left, and there he was, in the view past her vast birthday cake, swimming in the tiger fountain with the half-naked ballerinas. It was his restaurant. What could the staff do but watch? She was his assistant. What could the staff do but watch?
Feeling almost embarrassed, there was a tightness in her chest. Y/N glanced to her left to look away from the scene, and she noticed Rachel in a similar position. There she was, looking over at him, disappointed and discouraged. It’s like they were at two opposite ends of the same spectrum. The old lover. The new crush.
The cruel reality came back to her once more. He is him. He is Bruce Wayne, and I am his assistant. He is Gotham’s finest bachelor, and I’m engaged.
“We should go,” she mumbled to Carrie.
After messaging Alfred, he was there in no time, and they had plopped into the back of the Rolls Royce silently. Alfred could tell the night had not gone exactly as planned, but he opted to ask Y/N about it later. Y/N’s mind wandered as she stared out towards the passing buildings until she noticed they were coming up on East Merchant Street. That’s the street near the bar Russ works at.
“You can pull over here,” she suddenly stated.
Carrie grabbed Y/N’s arm and turned to her, looking concerned, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Y/N ignored the question, “Alfred, will you take Carrie home?”
“Y/N,” she said firmly. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Finally, sighing, Y/N turned to Carrie, “I need to have a conversation with my fiance.” She raised her eyebrow and gave Carrie a look that said this is serious. Hesitantly, Carrie let go of Y/N’s arm, but before she could get out of the car, Carrie snatched her once again.
“You call Alfred the minute you need to come home,” her gaze was serious. “I’m waiting up for you, and I’m not kidding. The minute you need to come back.”
Y/N heard Alfred repeat a similar phrase, and she looked toward Carrie, nodding. She gave her a quick hug before stepping back from the vehicle and watching them drive off, taillights reflecting in the puddles on the street. Inhaling, she started her trek down the sidewalk.
Y/N was at a crossroads. She knew she should have expected some wildly Bruce Wayne scene tonight, but she was disappointed. For a moment, she got to pretend like all of her problems had drifted. Like her engagement wasn’t falling apart. Like she was just a single twenty-two-year-old woman with her best friend out in society, flirting with the idea of men. When Bruce jumped into that fountain, it reminded her that the man she had thought about so much tonight was her boss. He was the most notorious bachelor in Gotham. Her fiance was drifting away. She was drifting away, and after all the shitty things Russ had done, she still cared for him. So, tonight, she was giving them one more chance. To talk, to laugh, to make love. She just needed one night to see if there was still something there for them.
She walked down the steps into Pipers. It was a sleazier bar, like an off-brand Hooters, with more alcohol. The men down here were different in a weird way, always looking at the waitress' assets. Originally, she had protested Russ working here, but he said the people like to drink a lot, and more drinks means more money. She heard a low whistle coming from behind the bar. Y/N turned, expecting it to be Russ, but instead, it was just Tony, the GM.
“What are you up to, honey?” Tony smiled softly at her. Tony was notorious for being an asshole, but he had always had a soft spot for Y/N ever since she spent her last summer tutoring his daughter.
“Hey Tony, I’m actually looking for Russ.”
He raised his eyebrow, “Russ? He told me he was taking a half-day.”
All the blood drained from her face. Was he hiding something?
“Did he?” she said breathlessly.
He inhaled and rose from his seat at the back of the bar, almost knocking his beer belly against the counter. He wiggled his finger for her to come closer as he leaned over the bartop like he had to tell her something in secret. “One of our servers here said she was going to drive him to meet you.”
“Do you think he’s at my apartment?” she questioned. After rubbing his gelled hair, he threw his arms out in a questioning manner, but he didn’t look as hopeful as she was. She whispered once more, “I mean, it’s Russ, right? It’s not like it could… be anything.”
Nodding, he cleared his throat, “Why don’t you uh check in with our server first? See where she drove him.” He pulled out a thick binder from the back of the counter and started flipping the pages. “I’m not allowed to share personal information about my employees, but I’m just gonna leave this right here and go do a lap around the bar.”
Winking at her, he moved away from the bartop and started doing his rounds. Y/N pulled the large binder over to her, looking at the page he had turned to. Her mouth dropped. Mary Fucking Anne. Y/N had met her years ago, and she had been nice enough. She was the type of woman who couldn’t be alone. Not because she didn’t know how but because the men at the bar kept her so busy. Y/N had praised her before for being so adventurous, but she didn’t realize she’d be adventurous with engaged men.
Snapping a picture of the book and scanning for an address, she quickly slid the binder back behind the counter and stepped out of the bar.
Walking down the cold street in her thin red dress, she thought to herself it’s not like that. It can’t be like that. We’ve been engaged since we were eighteen. It’s been years. It’s not like that. In her head, she was hoping she knew the way it would play out. She’d get to Mary Anne’s and ask her where Russ was. Mary Anne would turn to her and say oh, I dropped him at your apartment because Russ has terrible common sense and probably didn’t realize The Ocelot takes more time than Chuck’s Chili. Then, she’d get home and Russ would be there, and they’d laugh about it. Yes, that has to be what happens. It can’t not be what happens because if she gets to Mary Anne’s and that’s not what happens, that is more than four years of her life wasted. That is not only her fiance but one of her best friends betraying her. Someone who was with her through everything and would amount to nothing.
Looking at the address on her phone and back up at the building, here it was, Mary Anne's. It was a small dingy building about two blocks away from Pipers. Y/N looked up the steps toward the common door. It wasn’t likely the common door would be open, but she decided to try it anyway. Stepping up the stairs, she pulled, and there was nothing. Pulling again, it was like some divine intervention. The building lights flickered, and the magnetic lock holding the door closed let go. Y/N was too worried about the task at hand to even question it. Taking steps two at a time, she almost tripped on her red grown, but here she was. Apartment 24.
The noise already betrayed them. Trying the door, it happened to be unlocked. They had clearly been in a rush to get inside. Unapologetic, she threw the door open, and there they were against the countertop, a mesh of limbs and lipstick. But after taking in the state of the apartment, that wasn't even the worst part. His things were here.
Mary Anne squealed, trying to cover herself with a dishtowel, and Russ tried squeezing back into his pants, abandoning Mary Anne to rush over to Y/N, apologizing. “What are you doing here, baby? It’s - I’m sorry-”
The way she looked at him had him stopping in his tracks. Not another word came out of his mouth. Mary Anne still shrunk in the corner, trying to cover herself, shivering with shame. She slowly started to wander around the apartment. “You told me you didn’t want me over until your landlord renovated your apartment.”
“Baby, I just-”
“-You’re moving in with her,” she said disgusted, turning to him. She grabbed at the records on the wall. She had gotten him each one for his birthday. With clenched teeth, she said, “These are our things, Russ.”
“They’re still our things,” he tried to reason, tears in his eyes, realizing his actions were finally catching up to him.
Mary Anne had since forgotten her towel and modesty, pushing at Russ’s shoulder angrily, “They’re our things. You’re living with me-”
The sound of cracking had her silent. Crushed records lay at the bottom of Y/N’s red dress. Russ had looked like he’d been shot.
“Four years,” Y/N mumbled, dropping the last record and crushing it into her heel. She stepped around the room once again. No one wanted to say a thing; it was like waiting for a bomb to go off. On the coffee table was the vase she made him in pottery class in high school. It was her first gift to him, and now it was holding the flowers he brought home to another woman. She picked it up, dumping the flowers and water onto the uneven wooden floor. She held the vase by the tip of her pointer finger.
“Y/N,” he started bawling, “I don’t have an excuse for it, but I love you. Please-” Mary Anne gasped at his statement, running toward her bedroom sobbing, leaving the pair alone. “I can’t live without you. Even if we’re not together, you’re one of my best friends-”
The vase landed with a shatter, and she started to walk towards the door. He dropped to his knees and wailed, “You’re just going to throw everything we have away!”
Turning to him, red with anger, she noticed the guitar mounted to the wall. It was something she had gotten him with her first Wayne Enterprises paycheck. With a scream and a cry, she swept the guitar off the wall and smashed it next to him. After taking a breath and looking at her surroundings, she finally stormed out of the apartment. Wet, hot tears finally smeared down her face as she approached the exit and screamed into the open air. Russ was not far behind. His sadness turned to anger, and he quickly gripped the front of her arms despite her protests.
“You think you can just throw me away!?”
“We’re done, Russ!” she struggled in his grip but continued. “I’m disgusted by you. I wish I never met you!” He raised his hand to her, but there was a sudden crack against Russ’s hand, and blood started to drip down his arm. There, lying on the concrete, was a sharp piece of metal in the outline of a bat. Thunder rolled, and there was a flash of lightning. Russ looked up, turning white like he'd seen a ghost, but by the time Y/N had turned around, there was nothing.
Now alone, she stared down at the little metal bat, and then her focus changed to the cracked engagement ring on her left ring finger. Slowly sliding it off her finger, she let it fall out of her palm and toward the gutter. Somehow, she felt lighter without it. She wasn't sure what came over her next, but she decided to pick up the little metal bat and pocket it into her clutch.
Lurking in the shadows, Bruce watched Russ rush inside. He watched Y/N slide her engagement ring off, letting the Gotham sewer take it. He watched Y/N's red silk dress pool around her as she leaned down, picking up the piece of metal and dropping it into her bag.
Bruce had said it before that he missed Rachel. He missed their late-night conversations. He missed having someone down to Earth. He missed having a friend, and the fact that Rachel was his friend made him love her, but he hadn’t realized until tonight how much Y/N filled that void for him. They may not have late-night conversations. She may not know about his double life, but they had their afternoon talks over lunch. She brings flowers into the office, just because. She bantered with him. She wasn’t intimidated by him, and he would be damned if he let a man raise his hand to her.
@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess
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Jason: so I forgot about Father’s Day
Bruce:
Jason: okay, I didn’t forget about it. I didn’t know what to get you. but then it suddenly came to me, so.
Jason: *places large, bloodstained bag of broken computer parts on table*
Bruce: are those—
Jason: —the hard drives from the Russian case you’re working on? yeah. it took me a couple days, but I managed to get all of them. I know you were having trouble tracking them all down.
Bruce:
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Other Lovers PT 2
Summary: Y/N and Rachel get to know each other while Bruce makes up for his birthday party fowl.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader
a/n: This is a SLOW BURN, we are burning slowly. Stay tuned because, in the next part, Y/N’s fiance might not be her fiance anymore, and is Bruce starting to have feelings??? This is also a part of the Out of My League series. [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]
Y/N and Carrie sat in Swan, the gaudiest, most expensive fashion boutique there was. It was way uptown compared to what they were used to, but Bruce had booked this as a part of her birthday celebration. Y/N, you can’t go to The Ocelot without a dress, he said as he handed her his platinum card. She called him a snob as she snatched it out of his hand, white in the face. I don’t even want to know the limit to this card if there even is one. Normally, she’d never let him pay for her, but… it was her birthday, so she allowed it, and he had pulled out all of the stops.
So, over cheese and wine and dresses, Y/N sat and finally came clean to Carrie about what happened with Russ. And Carrie… Carrie was pissed.
“Y/N/N,” she started, “Now you know I would love and I mean love to spend your birthday dinner with you. Obviously. But what the fuck?”
“Listen, Carrie, I just… I don’t even know what to do anymore.” She sat down her Riesling and shoved a piece of merlot cheese into her mouth, hoping it would numb the sting of her absent fiance. It didn’t.
“He’s your fiance!” she cried out, almost spilling her mocktail out of her hand.
“It’s just been like this with him. He’s hot, he’s cold. Anything that has to do with my job or Bruce, he just loses his mind!”
Y/N had shifted the dress she was trying on to tuck her legs underneath her. They had been dress shopping for a little less than an hour, but she could tell Carrie was getting tired; she had her treatments a few days ago, so they decided to sit and eat. But now that Y/N had blabbed on Russ, it was like all Carrie’s energy came flooding back to her.
“Can I speak freely?” Carrie had that fiery look in her eye as she sat up straighter. She knew this was something Carrie had been holding onto for a long time, but she wasn’t ever in the mood to hear it. She wasn’t even sure she was in the mood to hear it now, but… she nodded anyway. “It hasn’t been right with Russ for a while.”
“Carrie-”
“Hear me out,” she stopped her, holding up her finger and a piece of cheese. “You know I love Russ; we’ve all known each other since high school, but just because you’re with someone for a long time doesn’t mean you should stay with them.”
Y/N shook her head, “We’re just in a rough patch.”
“Your rough patch started way before Bruce Wayne,” she said, sighing, looking at Y/N, “I’m not saying make any rash decisions. I’m just saying think about it. Think about what’s good for you.”
It felt like pins and needles were in her eyes as hot tears dwelled at the tip of her lashes. She knew it had been rough with Russ, but she hadn’t cried about it, and she didn’t want to. Pulling herself together, she inhaled. “What do you think about the red, backless one over there.”
Carrie grinned.
-
Everyone looked towards the large group of ballerinas that filtered into The Ocelot, entertained, and who was leading them? Bruce Wayne himself. His staff set his table to the left of the staircase, and ironically, so was Rachels. What a coincidence! Harvey Dent had waved to him immediately, oblivious to the past relations Bruce had with his date, while Rachel gave him a knowing look like she already knew what he was up to.
Harvey stood to greet him with a pleasant, “I didn’t think we’d be seeing you tonight, Mr.Wayne.”
“Well, it is my restaurant, Harvey,” Bruce shook his hand politely. He glanced down at Rachel, and it was clear she didn’t take the bait and sat patiently in her chair. “I see you know my good friend, Rachel.”
She nodded over at the ballerinas disapprovingly, “I see you brought some friends of your own, Bruce.”
“She’s always scolding me,” he mumbled to Harvey.
Harvey looked almost disappointed, staring at the group of women, “We were going to see the ballerinas tonight.”
“Were you,” Bruce feigned a shocked look. “I’m so sorry. I offered to take them to dinner for all their hard work.”
“On a recital night?” Rachel said knowingly.
“Well, we can always push out tables together if you’d like to speak with them?”
Rachel rolled her eyes, aware of where this was going, while Harvey quickly protested as civilly as he could. Placing her hand on Harvey’s arm, Rachel asked Harvey to sit back down and assured him she was sure Bruce had other places to be, but Bruce’s attention moved elsewhere. A tiff was starting not too far from them. The workers were trying to kick two women out; it seemed their reservation had been taken over by his large table. He couldn’t see the women covered by the large group of hosts gathering, but he could hear their conversation.
“Are you kidding me? Bruce Wayne made this reservation for her himself!”
“You know what? Don’t worry about it.” He recognized that voice. Shit.
Mumbling, excuse me to a babbling Harvey, he walked over to the group of people in strides. Clearing his throat, it was like Moses at the Red Sea. The hosts quickly split down the middle, and all went silent, wide-eyed. The manager, whom he recognized before, became red in the face, but that wasn’t the red he focused on. Turned at the waist, there she was bare-backed, draped in red, and annoyed, as per usual.
Before he could get a word in, the manager rushed to him and blurted out, “We assure you, Mr. Wayne, it’s being handled.”
She turned fully this time holding the arm of the other woman she was with, whom he could only assume was Carrie. “Really Bruce? The entire Gotham Ballet.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know how your reservation got moved,” he looked toward one of the hosts. “I want them in the green room. Not too far from my table, but far enough the noise won’t be a problem. Anything they want, they get. Charge it to my card.”
It was like someone had released the doves. White jacketed, hosts and waitresses flew around wildly and without question. Grabbing place settings, table cloths, moving around CEO’s, politicians, and models. Carrie was in awe mouth open. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the same way. Everyday she worked for Bruce Wayne, she was shocked by the power he had. She saw his odd moments. She saw his darkcircles when he came in office. She saw him fall asleep during meetings. She watched him sit behind her and watch New Girl with her while she was on break. He claimed he didn’t normally have time for Television.
Y/N focused her attention on him, “You don’t know how our reservation was moved, but you invited the entire ballet?”
“Listen, it was a whim,” he grinned.
“Does whim mean Rachel-”
“-and happy birthday by the way,” he cut her off and pulled her in for a hug. Her dress was silky under his fingertips as he slid his hands around her. His hands were cold against her hot bare back. She shivered in his arms, but accepted the hug and slipped her hands over his shoulders, leaning onto her tiptoes. Still hugging Y/N, he extended a hand to the woman Y/N was with, “You must be Carrie I’ve heard so much about you.”
Carrie took his hand, grinning at the two, “It’s so nice to meet the man Y/N has been bullying every day.”
He laughed leaning his head back, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
Y/N peeked over his shoulder and spotted Rachel staring at the pair, “Oh is that who I think it is over there?”
Before he could say anything else, Y/N’s staring had caught Rachel's attention. It seemed to finally be the bait she needed to stand and approach Bruce… or should I say Y/N. Harvey, struggling to keep up with her, seemed surprised by the sudden change in demeanor.
“Bruce!” she smacked his arm mischievously. “How rude of you! Introduce Harvey and me to your new lady friends.”
She smiled over at Carrie, but the way she looked at Bruce and Y/N could only be described as suggestive. Y/N stuck out her hand to shake Rachel's. She took her hand in return, eyeing her small, dainty engagement ring placed on Y/N's left ring finger. Anyone else looking at the ring would have immediately noticed it was not big or bold enough to be from Bruce Wayne, cracked with time, and clearly a fake stone, yet she still raised her eyebrow at the pair. Bruce and Y/N noticed the shift and suddenly started interrupting each other, creating some sort of rushed mashed sentence.
“Oh, he’s my boss, I’m engaged-” “She’s my assistant, Rachel-” “We work together-” “I wouldn’t say we’re that good of friends-” “I wouldn’t say we’re anything above coworkers-” “More like work friends-”
The smile on Rachel’s face grew in amusement. Oh, to tease Bruce Wayne. “So you work for him? I hope you’re keeping him on his toes.”
“On his toes and in office,” Y/N gossiped proudly. “Though now, with this ballerina fiasco, I have another thing to add to my plate. I almost lost my reservation because of this shit!”
“Do I have to ask how this is going to affect you?” Bruce asked, and Y/N’s attention completely shifted to him.
“Do you have no common sense? The entire restaurant is going to have to shift their reservations. Who do you think the governor is going to be calling when he can’t get a reservation for his anniversary? You. Because it’s your restaurant.” Y/N turned quickly back to Rachel. “I hope he hasn’t been bothering your date too much.”
She shrugged, “I’ve known Bruce since we were kids. Trust me, I can handle it. It’s so nice to see someone else who doesn’t just fawn over him.”
As they bantered, Bruce looked at Carrie and just shook his head. She snickered. He should have known if Y/N and Rachel ended up in the same space together, shenanigans would ensue.
“I hate to interrupt,” he spoke. No, he doesn’t, Rachel mumbled to Y/N, who grinned at her. “Okay, I don’t, but you should probably sit down and eat before my restaurant closes.”
Bruce had taken Y/N by the shoulder, to which she rolled her eyes, and offered Carrie his elbow, leading them over to the green room. The walls were draped in a deep green floral wallpaper. It was eclectic, like nothing she would expect from Bruce’s restaurant, especially after seeing his family home. There was a large fountain, big enough to swim in, placed in the center of the room and decorated with tigers. A curious thing to have at a restaurant called The Ocelot, she thought. But that’s still not what immediately caught her attention when she entered the room. Their table was to the right of the large gaudy fountain, decorated with a tiered birthday cake, almost as tall as the table. She held her breath, and Carrie gasped.
He was still behind her, but his hand slipped to her waist. The back of his palm was against the hot skin of her back, and his fingers traced the edge of her silk dress by her hip bone. With a wave of his hand, the servers lit the candles and dimmed the lights, illuminating what could only be described as a frosted tower of light glistening against the water of the fountain. Leaning, lips against her ear, he whispered, “I hope this makes up for earlier. Happy Birthday.”
To be continued…
@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess
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You ever just be sitting and then realize how lonely little tiny Bruce Wayne was sitting at the giant dining table with a dozen chairs, thinking that would be how life is after his parents murder. That he would sit there all alone every meal, that laughter would no longer fill the halls.
And just think how old man Bruce would be sitting at that dining table again and smile as his kids create louder and louder chaos. Laughing and smiling and teasing. That the old man sitting there and how he wishes to go back to that little boy.
And tell him it’s going to get better.
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Other Lovers
Summary: Here’s something I didn’t tell you. Our charming bachelor Bruce is still invested in his old fling Rachel and our beautiful assistant Y/N is engaged (but not for long hehehe).
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader
a/n: Listen there’s a reason it’s called a slow burn. For more context you can follow the full “Out of My League” series. Also, Y/N is just turning 22, this is doubling as her birthday post. [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]
Y/N had known Danny Russel since primary school. He started working at her dad’s mechanic shop in middle school. They started dating in high school. Russ and her were stupid teenagers in love doing stupid teenager things. Going to Chuck’s Chili way too late on a school night. Taking the cars they were working on drifting. Fooling around in said cars…
He’s been there for her since the beginning. Him and Carrie sat and supported her through her run in with the cops, when her dad kicked her out. Even after she decided to further her education, he was there… on his knee… proposing at eighteen. Again, stupid teenagers in love.
They weren’t stupid teenagers anymore.
It had been a long engagement and she was no where near ready to get married and he was… Russ. Always ready for anything. Always ready to tie the knot and that was great. It was, but they had no money and honestly, they’re in different places right now. Russ really wanted to focus on his music. She needed to focus on Bruce. She means work. Whatever. Bruce is her work okay? When he’s stressed it’s her job to get shit done and he seems really on edge lately.
Plus, her and Russ were kind of going through a rough patch. He didn’t exactly seem pleased she was working with Bruce Wayne or even that she was working at Wayne Enterprises. It had always been her and Russ against the world, but now she was in that world. It didn’t exactly sit right with him no matter how much money she made. But she was trying to schedule a date with him anyway. Well a birthday date. It was her birthday. Bruce had been nice enough to make a reservation for her and a plus one at his restaurant downtown. People waited months to get a table and she had one in less than a day. He assured her it was all his treat for her birthday and to go crazy. So she wanted Russ to come.
“Y/N/N, you have never been that girl who wants to go to The Occult or whatever it is.” She had been sitting at the office on the phone with Russ for the past 15 minutes trying to convince him to come with her. It was getting to be too much.
“It’s The Ocelot, Russ,” she hissed into the phone. She was trying to be quiet about their spat, but everytime she thought they were taking three steps forward it was five steps back. Rubbing her eyes she said, “Seriously don’t be like this. Bruce is just trying to do something nice.”
“That’s great. Let’s let the millionaire finally do something nice for everyone else.”
“He’s a billionaire, actually.”
“Jesus, Y/N/N I am not going to be caught dead in that snobby place. Lets just do something casual babe. Let me take you to Chucks-”
“Russ, I am twenty two years old,” she snapped, “I don’t want to go to the high school hangout and eat chili dogs. I want to look nice. I want to have a nice drink at a sophisticated restaurant.”
“Babe, I can’t afford to take you there. It is what it is,” he stated so condsending. Like his word was god. Like there was no way in the world he could even show up.
“Well shit good thing you don’t have to worry about the money. It’s already paid for, I have told you this. This is the third time I’m telling you this.”
She could tell they were both getting frustrated and Y/N knows they should take a step back. Compromise. But she had done a lot of compromising lately and what had he been doing? This was her birthday. Was it too much to ask her fiance to take her to a nice restaurant? He didn’t even have to pay for it. He just had to show up.
“Since when did you take handouts,” he scolded. “That’s not the Y/N I know.”
“I’ve got to go, Russ,” she sighed and hung up before he could say anything else.
The conversation felt so backhanded. Everytime she talked to him she felt like she was getting scolded for having a nice job, nice clothes, and nice things. Her boss wants to reward her with a birthday dinner. You’re taking handouts. His driver drops her off at home when she has to work late. Why does Bruce Wayne know your schedule so well? She’s been so excited for this new opportunity, but everytime she wants to talk with him about it he doesn’t want to hear about it. The bands not doing well. I’m busy bartending tonight. What do you mean you have to work early tomorrow? No, I won’t come to your birthday dinner.
It made her question herself. He was making her question herself. Maybe I should just cancel the reservation. I’m being difficult. She picked up the phone again and dialed The Ocelot.
“Hi, I was just calling to cancel my dinner reservation.” A hand came from over her shoulder and took the phone out of her hand, hanging it up. She didn’t even need to look over her shoulder, she knew it was Bruce Wayne.
“I was using that, Mr.Wayne,” she sighed, picking up the phone and redialing the number. He took it out of her hand again and unplugged the phone line. She turned to him, “What is your problem?”
“Why are you canceling your birthday dinner?” he looked at her quizically. “It’s free. I’m paying for it. You love free things.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Everyone loves free things,” she mumbled as she started look up their other contact information on the computer. Maybe I can find an email.
“Even the rich,” he added, “but that doesn’t answer my question.” He leaned his forearms on the front of her desk and hit the off button on her computer so she had no choice but to looked at him.
She leaned her head back into her chair and closed her eyes groaning in defeat, “My fiance, he’s… busy so I’m not sure who I’d really go with.”
“Your fiance is busy… on your birthday.” She gave him a glare that said, just go with it. “Why don’t you take Carrie then?”
“I shouldn’t she has a lot going on-”
“You don’t want to tell her he screwed up again do you?”
“How did you know he screwed up in the first place?”
He shrugged, “I’ve been talking to Alfred.”
“About my love life?”
“What else is there?” So many other things, but it didn’t matter Y/N decided she was done talking about herself. She decided to pivot.
“You know Rachels going to be at the Ocelot too. I saw it on the Gotham Gazette” She looked up at him. “She’s going out with Harvey Dent to celebrate his campaign.”
“How do you know about Rachel?” She gave him that look.
“Alfred,” he sighed.
-
It wasn’t that Bruce was in love with Rachel he just missed her. A lot. He missed their late night conversations. He missed having someone down to Earth who understood the crazy uptown world they were in. He missed talking with someone about his… night shift. Most importantly, he missed his friend and the fact that she was his friend made him love her. He didn’t even mean to. He just did.
So what was he supposed to do besides… offer to bring the entire Gotham Ballet to The Ocelot the exact day Rachel and Harvey would be there. He didn’t have a choice; she forced his hand. In all actuality, he wasn’t just moving them around for Rachel. Bane is still on the move trying to steal and harbor chemicals and the next CEO he was planning on visiting had made it obvious they were going to the Gotham Ballet. So… kill two birds with one stone.
Next episode we’ll see Bruce and Y/N “happen upon” each other at the Ocelot. Maybe old flings don’t need to be flung anymore. It’s time for something new and hot (like birthday candles :D)
Also, this was not edited so sorry, I'm MIA this week. I just scheduled this in advance to keep y'all fed this week.
@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky
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Shit Interview PT 6
Summary: Bruce was really doing all of this to humor Alfred, and then he’d tell him it didn’t work out… or at least that’s what he is trying to tell himself. [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader
a/n: This is the last part of “Shit Interview,” BUT it is not the last part for these characters. Basically, we’re going to be doing different series with them until they get together so stay tuned. Their whole story can be found in my “Out of My League” series :) Also, this is unedited so hopefully, it's good for you guys lol the next week I'll be a little MIA.
Bruce didn’t expect Y/N to be so quiet after their first encounter, and while she did have spice and a frankly entertaining competitive attitude after their run-in earlier, she kept to herself. She seemed like a pretty dedicated worker. She was organized and thoughtful. He hadn’t realized, but he hadn’t even eaten breakfast this morning, so the coffee and sandwich were welcome. The flowers she placed in his office reminded him of his mother. It was always something she did when they would visit his father at work. Bring flowers and breakfast. He wondered if she had done her research on him.
He cleared his throught, “Can I ask why there are flowers in the office?”
“I thought they were pretty,” Y/N responded from the other room. “Why do you not like them?”
“No, they’re nice,” he responded, admiring them.
He heard some shifting and she appeared in his doorway not too long after with a few papers. “A friend of mine owns a flower shop. Dorthie’s. He’s pretty decent friends with Alfred actually.”
She laid the papers on his desk. It was his schedule for the next week, he wasn’t even sure he’d be back next week. After a few heated discussions with Alfred, he decided this would be a trial period. Not that Y/N needed to know, he’d had enough arguing with her to last a life time. By the end of this he can tell Alfred it didn’t work out and that will be the end of it. No more assistants.
Y/N was having similar concerns about him not returning and though she cleared her end of the bargain with Alfred… she hoped he’d be back. She liked her job and no boss means no assistant. “You can let me know if there’s anything that doesn’t work for you on there. If you can’t come to something or you’re going to be late, or planning to, in your case, just let me know. I can swap things around.”
He looked pailer than the last time she saw him so she moved across the room and grabbed the pitcher she filled with water earlier, pouring him a glass. Her mind wandering, she looked over at him in thought.
“Something on your mind,” Bruce asked without looking up.
“Can I ask you something?” She walked around the desk and placed the glass in front of him.
“Hm,” he said going through the documents.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” She leaned on the edge of his desk. What she really wanted was to catch a vibe. Who was her boss? Why was he the epitome of a human disaster? The press says he’s partying but he doesn’t even seem like he leaves his house. She was hoping to get his attention, but his eyes stayed on the pages in front, focused. I know what will get his attention. “They say you’re a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and I can get the billionaire part, but you haven’t really done much philanthropy recently.”
He scoffed, eyes still focused on the words in front of him, “I would argue Wayne Enterprises-”
“Obviously I’m not talking about your company I’m talking about you,” she strained. No dice, moving onto the next question. “Plus, have you even ever been on Playboy?”
That got his attention and he looked up at her with an amused smile, “Why? You going to go look up the issue?”
“I’m just trying to get a good judge of your character,” she admitted. “There are so many rumors about you, but they don’t even seem like they make sense. Unless you’re hiding like thirteen models in your mansion, I think you value your privacy more than you let on.”
That hit something. She could tell. He sat and looked at her quizically.
“Speaking of privacy,” he smirked, mask back on, “thank you Y/N that will be all.”
She sat, a little stupid and embarrassed out at her desk. What was I thinking doing that? And on the first day. She really didn’t want to scare him off and her job literally depended on it. As much as she liked to say Alfred hired her, Bruce can do anything about it in all actuality, one word and he could have her ass on the sidewalk. Aside from the uncomfortable ending to that conversation, she still sat working, typing up the meeting notes and preparing a mass-email when Mr.Wayne stepped into the doorway, papers in hand. They looked different from the stack of papers she gave him though.
“Did you need something, Mr.Wayne,” she spoke without looking up from her email, giving him the same treatment he gave her.
“So, you were apart of the Martha Wayne foundation at Gotham Academy,” he smirked moving the papers into his right hand. Now that was a way to get someones attention. She looked up from her keyboard eyeing him and then the papers.
“Are you reading up on me?”
“Hey, I’m just trying to get a good judge of your character,” he repeated back to her.
Alright, I’ll bite, she thought. “Yes I was once apart of the infamous Martha Wayne Foundation.” She continued typing on her computer, trying to seem bored.
“That’s for the best and brightest.”
“Mhm,” she replied.
“And now you’re my assistant.”
“Unfortuately.”
“Ha,” he snickered, “so how does the best and brightest become an assistant?”
You get cornered in a flower shop by two old men who can’t mind their own business, she thought. “Well if you must know my expertise was in engineering which I have geared away from.”
“Any particular reason why.”
“I’m not interested in it anymore,” she answered shortly.
“Hm,” he responded and then continued down his papers, “your record is clean so that’s good.”
“Yep.”
“But Commisioner Gordan is listed as a contact for emergencies. You know him well?”
“I didn’t realize you were a billionaire, playboy, philiantropist, and detective. You should add that to your list of qualities.” she finally stopped typing and looked up at him. “Don’t you have work to do I thought you were eager to leave at 3pm?”
He smiled, “I already finished reviewing the projects you sent me. I signed off on a few of them and have notes for the rest.” He handed them off to her.
“That was fast,” Y/N muttered taking them from him.
Shrugging on his coat, he went to head towards the door before abruptly turning around and looking at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Same time.”
He stepped out of the office, a slight spring in his step as she dropped the papers she was once holding. “Holy shit. I did it.”
-
Bruce stepped into the pick up zone dedicated for him and Alfred. Popping into the back seat, he looked at his watch 3:05 pm, right on time to work on his case.
“How was your first day of work, Master Bruce,” Alfred smiled to himself.
“Please don’t mock me, Alfred,” Bruce smiled at him. “I need to be back here tomorrow same time.”
Alfred snickered and sat smiling as he pulled away from Wayne Enterprises.
“Alfred,” Bruce looked up at him. “Is there something amusing?”
“I told you she’d be good for you.”
“Stop it.”
“She’s quite a motivating individual don’t you think.” Bruce paused for a moment.
“She’s smart too,” Bruce thought back to Y/N’s slight psychological evaluation of him. “Did you know she was apart of the Martha Wayne foundation?”
“Well I did interview her Master Bruce.”
“Hm,” he hummed, “I hope she’s not too smart.”
“Excuse me sir?”
“Having someone intelligent work so closely with my schedule could mean trouble.”
“Don’t be dramatic it’s not like she’s following you around during your nightly escapades besides I think she’s good for you. You need someone to get you out of the house.”
“That’s what I have you for Alfred.”
“And that would be fine if you listened to a bloody thing I say,” he muttered.
“I heard that.”
@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky
#batfam#bruce wayne x reader#batman#batmom#bruce wayne#batboys x reader#slow burn#poems and quotes#poetry#poets on tumblr
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Shit Interview PT 5
Summary: The day Bruce Wayne is finally supposed to work in office... and he's late. [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader
a/n: I know I said this would be out early 3/6, but I lied… If you liked this story, it’s a part of my “Out of My League” series :)
Y/N had woken up at 5 am on Monday morning. She did her hair and her makeup. She dressed a little nicer than she would any other day, with a new top and new shoes that she purchased with her new paycheck. John opened Dorthie’s Flowers early for her so she could stop in and get flowers for the office, just because. Of course, John knew what was going on. He gossiped with Alfred on their usual off day. She even had time to go to Batbuck’s and get a black coffee and a breakfast sandwich with bacon. Yes, she knew her employer's order. And after two weeks of agony, today was the day. The day Bruce Wayne was coming to the office.
Did she think he’d honestly care about any of her efforts? No. No, not even a little bit, but it made her feel better. Knowing she was putting in effort even if her boss wasn’t. So, she sat in the office doing her usually scheduled work, watching the clock tick by. Check-in with the social team. They’ve been begging to have Bruce Wayne in a promotional video: at 8 am. Work on approving Wayne Charitable Foundation fundraisers: 9:30 am. Look through suggested events: 11 a.m. It was 12:33 pm. Their first meeting started at 12:30 pm. Bruce Wayne was supposed to be here at 12 pm. Where the fuck is he? Who knows, but he’s not where he’s supposed to be. Y/N contemplated driving down to that manor, grabbing him by the legs, and throwing him in the back of her van. She thinks she could do it. She thinks she’s angry enough to do it.
Just like in every other meeting, she was acting as a notetaker, and as she looked down at her notebook… she thought she might throw up. Mr.Collins may have been… especially an asshole last week, and she may have told him she knew for a fact Bruce Wayne would be here today. After two weeks of dealing with his comments and cruelty, she just can’t take the heat. So she sits in her corner, with her notebook on her knees hoping, praying he’ll forget all about it… He doesn’t.
“Miss.Y/L/N,” he sang at her, a shit-eating grin on his face, “I thought we were expecting Mr.Wayne today.”
He held his arms out as if to say, where is he? She tried to ignore him, leaning over toward her back and grabbing a pen out. Stepping in front of her, he used his foot to scoot the bag away from her. “I asked you a question, Miss. Y/L/N.”
“Personally, I thought it was more a statement,” Mr.Foxx tried to take some of the attention away from her. She looked over at him and smiled. She wanted to thank him, but unfortunately, she knew it wouldn’t deter Mr.Collins. He was determined to make her look stupid.
“The question was implied,” Mr.Collins spoke.
“He’s just late,” she replied, bored, looking down at her notebook and trying to appear unfazed. “I spoke with him on Saturday, and he said he’d be coming around twelve.” He tried taking the notebook off her lap, but she held onto it, leaving them at a standstill.
“You may look at me while I talk to you,” he spat at her. Y/N, don’t say a goddamn thing, she thought, nothing that comes out of your mouth will be helpful. The executives had all paused near their seats, watching the scene, waiting to intervene, but then the attention shifted.
“Please stop harassing my assistant, Nigel,” a voice had spoken smugly. The notebook slipped out of her hand, and a breath she didn’t know she was holding released. There, leaning cooly against the doorway, was Bruce Fucking Wayne in a suit that probably cost more than her life. Nigel backed off and looked absolutely aghast.
He took a minute to process the man standing in the doorway, straightened up and spoke, “Mr.Wayne, what a… surprise.”
“Well, you know Gotham traffic, it’s a nightmare.” The other executives chuckled, still standing. Y/N could tell no one was really sure what to do with themselves. Bruce looked at her confused, “Miss.Y/L/N, what are you doing in the corner?”
Grabbing her notebook on the way over, he slipped behind her cornered chair and wheeled it to the table with her in it. He sat between her and Mr.Foxx, and slowly, everyone relaxed and sat down, chattering quietly. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and whispered, “Why do I feel like you were late on purpose?”
He just grinned.
Bruce actually had every intention of being here on time, but the case had a breakthrough, and the case always comes first. Even despite Alfred's insistent honking in the driveway. After weeks, he had found where Bane had been putting his chemicals. He'd been stocking them in different warehouses around the city, spreading them out. So, it might be time to spend the week in the penthouse conveniently enough.
Speaking confidently and intelligently, Bruce Wayne started the meeting. To everyone’s surprise, including her own, he had actually done his homework on the energy program they were discussing. He spoke expertly on the topic as if he worked in the program. His being here would have even been enough, she thought. Y/N took notes on whether they were to keep the program or get rid of it, and Mr.Wayne even had her repeat the notes at the end. This might have been the smoothest meeting she had ever attended.
As it came to an end, they decided to schedule another for tomorrow at 1 pm. Mr.Collins claimed it gave everyone time before making a final decision. As the executives were filtering out of the room, each one would shake Bruce Wayne’s hand. I hope to see you again, Bruce, such a pleasure. I’ll be looking for you in the office, Wayne. Glad to have you back. You look so much like your father. She took the opportunity to squeeze by them, leaving the room. Bruce noticed and excused himself to follow her out.
He caught up to her easily, “What’s our next order of business?”
“Well, this would typically be my lunch, so I’m going to heat up some soup and send out some emails,” she stepped onto the elevator, and he followed her. “Then, I need to type up the meeting notes and send them out, but I do have some files you need to look over, and then you’re on your way.”
“That’s it,” he said, eyebrow raised. “You told me I was a valuable part of the company. I have so much to do-”
“First of all,” she interrupted, pressing the top floor before the penthouse, “I never said you were valuable. I said this was a favor. Second of all, you insinuated you wanted an easy schedule, so that’s what you get.”
“Now, who’s interrupting,” he smirked, leaning against the elevator wall.
“You’re insufferable.”
“You could have left me at home.”
“Not a chance,” she smirked at him, leaning against the opposite wall. “The files should take you until three. There’s a coffee and a sandwich on your desk.”
“It’s probably cold by now.”
“Well, I suspect you know how a microwave works.”
Thinking for a moment, he said, “What’s happening to the rest of the work I supposedly had?”
“I’m assisting you with it,” she smiled. “So far on my list of Bruce Wayne things today, I’ve met with the social team; they want to do a video with you, by the way. I’ve worked on some WCF fundraisers and events, which you should attend at least a few of-”
“You know there are teams for all of this stuff?”
“Did you not hear the parts that included you?” The elevator dinged, and she stepped out, exasperated. “Again, you are the face of your company. Your teams want your opinion. They want to include you.”
He was one step behind her once again, following her easily toward his office. “I’ve owned this company for a while and haven’t involved myself this much.”
She slowed to turn and look at him, annoyed, but he bumped into the back of her. Dipping his hands into her waist, he steadied her. She paused and then pulled back, defensive, “You wouldn’t even be here right now if I didn’t bust into your house.”
Turning around abruptly and heading into his office, she hoped he hadn't noticed her blushing. He did and he followed after her with a grin.
@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky
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