#battinson x oc

[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 15

batman x fem!reader

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

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

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part fourteen

word count: 4.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

y/n chuckles. “really?”

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

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

“always,” bruce says and kisses her lips. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[ladyelissarose]

Awwwwwww Battinson needs a Robin.

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[lingerasthesmokeoncedid]

What Do the Lonely Do At Christmas? 

A Battinson Holiday Fic

After years of not celebrating holidays, Bruce Wayne is trying to do something different. But when he hires a professional decorator to deck the halls of Wayne Manor, Bruce finds that it's not just his home and holiday that will be different - his heart just might change, too.

I. They’re Singing “Deck the Halls,” but it’s not like Christmas at All

On days when he went into the downtown highrise office that bore his name, Bruce Wayne didn’t take the executive elevator. Ever since the beginning of his New Gotham project, he tried to connect with the people on a human level. To not be their boss, but someone they could talk to, who could hear their grievances and worries, who could do something in his considerable power to help them, even without his mask.

Funny thing about that, though. As it turned out, no one wanted to ride the elevator with The Boss. 

He would approach the elevator bank and people would scatter. A few would smile and wave uncomfortably when their eyes met, but none of them would brave even a few minutes with Bruce Wayne, the scion of the richest family in the city.

So, he rode the elevator alone. Always. 

At least…until one day in December, when the wind was biting and the snow tasted like change. 

“Hold the door, please!”

For a half-second, Bruce didn’t even realize the disembodied voice was addressing him. No one ever rode with him; now someone was calling after him, begging not to be left behind? 

“Hold the door – thanks!”

But then she appeared. An unremarkable stranger, running for the doorway like her life depended on it, shuffling past her frozen colleagues as she jugged several ill-stacked boxes. Bruce didn’t recognize her, but all the same, he couldn’t help but stare.  

Framed by the brass elevator frame and backlit by the strings of gold and silver lights on the lobby wall behind her, she beamed at him, beatific as an angel atop a tree. 

Bruce awkwardly shuffled to the side as he held the doors open to allow her inside. Not enough, apparently, because as she jostled to manage her tower of packages, she pressed her back against his until she was safely inside and could maneuver better. 

It was an accident, he told himself. And it only lasted a moment. Less than a moment. But he’d caught a breath of her scent, felt the shift of her body against his…and it now felt burned into his skin. 

“Thanks again for that. Sorry I kept you waiting.”

He pressed the button for the top floor, his stop, and was surprised when she informed him she was going to the same place. 

They rode in silence for awhile, Bruce in the corner of the elevator, shifting his weight across the balls of his feet, trying not to look at her slightly fuzzy reflection in the elevator mirror. She hummed along easily to the holiday elevator music playing above them, still carefully balancing her boxes. 

It was like riding with someone who didn’t know he was Bruce Wayne - or someone who didn’t care. Either way, he decided to break their silence. 

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” He asked, in that slightly stilted way of his. After so long in the shadows, it took time to adjust to normal human interaction. 

“Just a temp,” she chirped. Then, she gestured to the boxes, which, upon further inspection, contained red ribbons and garland. “I’m a professional decorator. I’ve been doing the building here.” 

“Oh, so you’re responsible for all of this?” Bruce asked. This time, it was his turn to gesture - to the tinsel hanging from the ceiling above them. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she replied. 

“No, no,” he said. Shit. He really was out of practice. He’d barely said a few sentences to this woman, and already he’d accidentally insulted her. “Your work is great. It’s just that all of this holiday cheer, it’s just not me.”

He expected the conversation to end there. He’d embarrassed himself, he’d screwed up already - no wonder no one wanted to ride the elevator with him, and her floor was fast approaching. But she surprised him. 

“Really?” She asked. 

It was obvious, wasn’t it? Bruce Wayne, tabloid badboy recluse with greasy hair and too-big clothes and too much money? Of course he didn’t immediately strike anyone as a Buddy the Elf type. But she seemed genuinely surprised, as if she saw something besides darkness when she looked at him.  

Strange. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had seen the good in Bruce Wayne. Batman, yes. Bruce Wayne? No. It had been a long, long road since then. 

“Now you say it like it’s a bad thing,” he lobbed back.

“It’s just…you just don’t really seem like a Grinch. Not even an Ebenezer Scrooge.”

Last year, he’d spent Christmas covered in someone else’s blood, standing over some nameless, faceless criminal who’d had the misfortune to try to rob someone at gunpoint near Batman. This year…he liked the idea of spending it at home. Giving out presents to kids in The Narrows. Doling out Christmas bonuses. Stuff like that. 

Sure, he’d probably Batman on Christmas Eve. And probably Boxing Day, too. But for one night, maybe he could help people as a man instead. 

“Call me a recovering Grinch. I just haven’t celebrated any holiday in a long time.”

She looked like she wanted to ask him why. He appreciated it more than he could say that she didn’t.

The doors opened on her floor then, and she smiled at Bruce before she left him. 

“Well. Maybe you should try something different this year.” 

II. It’s Beginning to Look a lot LIke Christmas

A few days later, Bruce Wayne was in the attic of the Manor, hauling things around like a man possessed, searching for something he hadn’t seen in many, many years. 

But then, a crackle on his watch, and suddenly, Alfred’s voice filled the musty attic room. 

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but we’ve just been buzzed on the gate intercom. I have eyes on a woman, and she claims to have been invited by you–”

Bruce could picture it. The butler at the bank of security cameras monitoring Wayne Manor at all times, suspiciously eyeing some strange car approaching. 

His chest tightened. She was here. She was going to be here, in his house. A woman in Wayne Manor. Since his parents’ death, that was even less common than holiday celebrations. 

Bruce checked the time. Damn. He hadn’t meant to be up here when she arrived. But finding the boxes took more time than expected, and – 

There. There was the box he was looking for. Caked under a thick layer of dust, a box marked “CHRISTMAS/HANUKKAH” sat in the corner of the room.

He spoke into his watch, then reached for it. “I’ll take care of it, Alfred.”

A skeptical pause from the other end of the line. 

“...Very good sir.”

But Bruce’s understanding of very good, sir in that context must have been quite different from Alfred’s, because when he found his way to the atrium some ten minutes later, his attention was drawn away from the front door, where he expected her to be waiting, to the nearby sitting room. 

Despite the grand doors being shut, Bruce could still hear Alfred’s cool, modulated tones and a soft, female laugh. The clinking of fine porcelain. Soft Christmas music from a record player. 

Bruce’s shoes squeaked on the marble by accident. In the sitting room, Alfred excused himself and materialized in the hallway with Bruce a moment later. 

“You let her in?” Bruce asked, hating how he sounded like a petulant child, but not enough to let go of his frustration. He hadn’t wanted to explain all of this to Alfred. He’d hoped she would be able to decorate today, then leave before Alfred was any the wiser. He should have known the old man would find his way to interfere. 

“I couldn’t very well leave her out in the cold, could I?” Alfred said, his smug tone telling Bruce everything he needed to know. I wanted to snoop and I wasn’t going to let this girl go without getting to know her. “She’d have frozen if I hadn’t gotten her a cup of tea and brought her in, that’s how long it took you.”

Bruce grit his teeth. Yeah, this was mostly his fault. Not that he was going to admit that. “I was busy.”

“Busy with what? And what’s that?” he asked, gesturing to the box Bruce carried. “Old junk for the cave? Sir, when you have a date come over  –”

“We’re not dating,” Bruce said, quickly. 

“Apologies, I’m sure you’re keeping it casual, right?”

Dammit. He was going to have to explain now. Couldn’t have Alfred hearing wedding bells – the old man was convinced that was the only way Bruce would ever fully give up being Batman. If some woman came into his life and he hung up his mantle for her. “She’s here to decorate the manor. The boxes are our old Christmas and Hanukkah stuff.”

Alfred blinked. Finally on the back foot. Finally surprised by something. 

“She…what?”

“It’s the holidays, Alfred,” Bruce said, as if he hadn’t been avoiding them most of his life. 

A scoff from the butler. “First time you’ve noticed in ten years.” 

“I’m trying something different.”

Not good enough for Alfred. Bruce took a different tack, his lips quirking up in a slight smirk. 

“Come on. You should be proud. I’m finally starting to act human again.”

III. Your Eyes are Like Starlight Now

A few days later (Christmas decorating a manor of this size couldn’t be done in an afternoon, apparently), Bruce was set up in his office, trying not to think about the strange woman currently in his house. He didn’t let people into the Manor very often. It was private, a sanctuary - no, more like a creaking, heaving monument to the past. To let people in this house was to let them into a life he’d left behind. To poke around at the ghosts and peer around corners for his secrets.

So, as she worked, he was very aware of every creak and groan of the house. And he was also very aware of her humming those festive songs - the tunes echoed through the halls and to his desk as though they were meant for his ears only. 

The idea of someone else in his space, someone besides Alfred, unsettled him. But, as the days went on, he realized it was the disquiet of a man learning to dance for the first time. Awkward, then oddly comforting. 

Their shared conversations in the hallway as they happened to pass each other, their laughter in the kitchen as she took her lunch break while he just so happened to be there making a cup of coffee, the wave they always shared – him looking down from the window, her looking back at the mansion as she went to her car – at the end of each day….they all added up to something, something Bruce couldn’t ever quite name for himself. 

Even if he knew the word for this feeling – and he suspected that he did – he didn’t want to examine it too closely. Too complicated. Too confusing. Too risky. 

That afternoon, her voice carried across the house. This time, it really was meant for him. 

“Mr. Wayne? Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce left his desk and followed the sound, until they met together on the sweeping second-floor landing. He blinked as he approached. In the hours since they’d parted, she’d gotten busy. Christmas lights and dangling ornaments were everywhere. Had the house ever been this bright, this cheerful, before? 

“There you are, Mr. Wayne,” she said. “I was just–”

“You can call me Bruce, you know.”

He hated being called Mr. Wayne. It felt like carrying his father’s tombstone around his neck. 

“That’s allowed?” She asked. 

An understandable question. This house didn’t radiate casual, cool, boss energy. But he also thought, when he impulsively hired her that day after their first meeting, that she hadn’t seen him as only a boss. But as a person. 

A boss, you call Mr. Wayne. A person, you call Bruce. He wanted to be Bruce. God, how badly he wanted to be Bruce for her. What a peculiar feeling.  “I’d like it if you did.” 

Their eyes met. When he finally pulled away, he was convinced he’d looked at her for too long, but he wouldn’t have traded a moment of it. The Christmas lights twinkling in her eyes were hypnotic. 

He cleared his throat. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I’m decorating the tree,” she said, waving down towards the first floor. She’d had a tall fir delivered bright and early in a snowdrift that morning as Bruce watched her from the second story window. “I thought maybe you’d like to put up some of the more sentimental ornaments?”

Bruce remembered decorating the tree with his own parents, but that had been so long ago. He assumed professionals like herself would do everything; that’s part of the reason he hired her. So he wouldn’t have to live out those painful, happy memories of his parents again. But, still. He didn’t want to be labeled as weird. If this was the done thing, he would do it. “Is that something your clients like to do?”

“Not usually. But I always like to offer. It’s how my family and I used to get ready for Christmas.” 

He wanted to ask her why she said that in the present tense; he then remembered the restraint she’d shown in the elevator. 

He’d been avoiding the holidays for years because they reminded him of his parents; it seemed, at least to him, that she was holding onto them because she didn’t want to forget hers. 

He’d been suffering for years. She seemed pretty happy. Maybe he could try her way. Just this once. See if it made him feel better. 

“Well. I don’t usually do that,” he said. Her face fell for only a second before he picked it up just as quickly. “But I remember someone suggesting that I try things differently this year.” 

Moments later, they were down in the grand atrium, where she and her team of delivery men had erected the fourteen-inch tree she’d spent the entire day decorating. The scent of fir and snow filled the air, immediately making him think of her. She’d smelled the same when they’d first met in the elevator that day, when she’d first shown him the kindness of treating him like a person instead of a name. 

As he stepped deeper into the room, towards the box he’d brought down a few days ago, he examined the splendor she’d brought to this usually drab, forgotten place. Of course, the Christmas tree stood like an elaborate mountain in the corner near a big, snow-dappled window. Holly and garland had been strung, the photographs in this room had been dusted and lined amongst hand-me-down nutcrackers and tchotchkes. His mother’s Hanukkah decor and family relics had been arranged, too, given a place of prominence on a long side table running the length of the room. 

It was…perfect. Like she’d borrowed a memory or a dream from the warmest, most sincere, deepest buried parts of him and brought it to staggering life. 

She looked like she was made to stand near his fireplace. Like she belonged there, in his room, in the warmth of this holiday scene she’d created. He tried not to think about that when he began picking through the sentimental ornaments she’d left for him to hang. 

“I haven’t looked at these in a long time,” Bruce muttered. He ran his chafed, scarred hands over some of the artifacts of Christmases past. 

The woman beside him, so close they brushed when she breathed too deeply, brightened. “You’re in for such a treat. There are some great ones here. Like….” She dug around in the box and produced a scuffed, chipped ornament from almost thirty years ago. “Bryce’s first Christmas.” 

Bruce chuckled. “My father gave that one to me. He’d been somewhere in Europe just before Christmas and apparently that country didn’t have have too many Bruces. This was the closest he could find. My mother said they probably had Bruce ornaments, but he brought this one home anyway. Always loved a joke, my dad.”

The words fell out before he could catch them. He stiffened when they stopped, then fully aware that he’d been soft, vulnerable, to this woman. Sensing the shift in mood, she offered: 

“I’m sorry - would you want to do this alone? I don’t want to intrude - ”

Yes, please go, every fiber of his being wanted to say. But he overruled the feeling. He’d been masking himself in shadows and isolation for years; maybe if he wanted to be a different man, a different Batman, he had to once again return to the land of the living. 

“You’ve still got some decorating to do, right?” He said. A small smile escaped him. Teasing people wasn’t really in his repertoire, but he gave it a try: “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.”

She rewarded him with a smile of her own. “Thanks.” 

For awhile, they worked in silence. One by one, Bruce would take out the ornaments – paper stars he’d decorated in kindergarten, a wedding bell given to his parents on their fifth wedding anniversary, a Dick Tracy ornament given to him by Lucious Fox after watching the movie in the guy’s office every time Bruce would go to Wayne Tower after school…

Each one was a fresh papercut. A memory of someone or something he’d lost or forgotten. But at least he was feeling something besides rage. Something besides vengeance. 

At least he remembered how deeply he’d loved people before. Even if he’d lost them. 

Every few minutes, his focus shifted to the woman who’d accidentally brought a blizzard of change to his life. She hadn’t precipitated the change. He’d been looking for ways to make himself a better man outside of his suit ever since The Flood, and she’d just been there at the right time. 

Exactly the right time. Looking exactly right. Talking to him exactly right. Making him feel exactly right, even in her small, subtle ways.  

At that moment, she struggled on tiptoe to fill an ornament gap about halfway up the tree.

“Is everything okay over there?” Bruce asked.  

She cursed softly under her breath, half-laughing to herself as she did. “It’s my own stupid fault. I wasn’t thinking and already brought my ladder back to the car. I’ll just have to run out and get it again.”

An instant war sparked inside Bruce. His natural instinct to help kicked in, but the darker parts of him, the ones that wanted to remain stoic and remote, kicked into defensive action. Don’t offer to help, Bruce. She has the ladder. You can carry that for her if you want to – 

Bruce paid that voice inside him no heed. He’d decided that he was going to try acting like a normal person, rather than a bat vigilante who only occasionally donned a human suit and pretended to be one. This was another step in that process. 

“Would you like - ” He cleared his throat and lightly flexed his hands in an awkward suggestion of lifting her up. “Could I help you with that?”

Her eyes sparked, then shrugged. “Sure. If you think you can handle it.”

Smothering a smile – if only she knew how strong he was, what damage his hands currently cupping her waist could do, how easily he threw over fully grown men three times her size, she wouldn’t have said anything – he lifted her up. 

In his life of extrajudicial crime fighting, Bruce had endured many painful moments that stopped time. But he couldn’t remember any pleasant memory that managed to manipulate time for him. In his experience, torment lasted interminably; happiness was fleeting. 

All that to say – holding her in his arms might only have taken a moment in reality. To him, though, the world tilted into slow motion, and it occurred to him how little kind touch he’d had. How nice it felt to touch someone else without wanting to hurt them. How perfect she felt in his arms. 

When he finally returned her to the solid stability of the hardwood floor, the world snapped back into proper rhythm, but still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She’d brought light and warmth to the manor again. She was mesmerizing. 

So mesmerizing, in fact, that he hadn’t thought to release her. 

A flush traveled across her collarbone, but there was a teasing note to her voice when she said, “You can let me go now.”

Bruce stepped away like she’d electrocuted him. “Oh. Right.” Then, he added, mumbling: “God, I’m a cliché.”

“You’re not. What’s a cliché at Christmas, anyway? We call that tradition.”

This time, he braved a joke. “So…it’s your tradition to spend Christmas in some guy’s arms?”

She smirked. “Only if he’s lucky.”

IV. Warm in December

On a bitterly cold December night, the Batman apprehended a series of criminals robbing an apartment building of its presents. At the scene, he lingered as the detectives and police officers investigated the aftermath. 

One man, Romero, was bent over a series of spent bullet shells (the robbers had been well armed), when he looked over at the hulking figure looming nearby. 

“Bats, what do you do this time of year? Hibernate?”

“Clearly not,” he said, gesturing to the fact that he was very obviously not sleeping off the winter somewhere. 

Romero’s cocky bravado dripped from every word, taunting and pointed. “I mean, really. I’ve been thinking about it, and I just can’t picture you by the fire, wearing mittens and Santa hats on those ears of yours, Mrs. Batman waiting for you under the mistletoe…”

Something must have shifted in his expression - or maybe his fists had clenched -  because in an instant, Gordon was in between the man and the bat. 

“Cut it out, Romero.”

Romero protested, but Gordon snapped again. “Go back to GPDHQ. You’ve got paperwork.” 

With one long, sharp look at Batman, Romero complied with the order, grumbling something like can’t believe I’m working Christmas Eve, should have worked Thanksgiving under his breath. 

When he was gone, Gordon took over his cataloging duty. Batman again hovered. 

“That wasn’t necessary.” 

“No, it wasn’t. But consider that your Christmas gift. Romero’s got a smart mouth; it was time someone put him in his place.” 

Batman silently nodded his thanks. 

“He’s right, though,” the detective said. “Not natural for a man to be this way.”

Gordon didn’t have to explain what he meant by that. The Batman knew. It wasn’t natural for a man to be so alone. 

But maybe he wouldn’t be alone this year. Maybe he would try something different. 

V. Underneath the Mistletoe

Bruce didn’t sleep much that night. After stitching himself up, he usually passed out for at least an hour or two of rest before starting a new day. Instead, he found himself pacing the holly-lined hallways, taking in all the work she’d done to the manor, thinking about her and what he would do the next day when he saw her. 

It was a big risk, this plan. He’d ever done anything like it before. He probably shouldn’t. What a terrible idea. But what if it wasn’t? What if it turned out alright? What if letting someone else into his life wasn’t the end of the world, but the start of a new one? 

He wanted to inspire hope in Gotham now, not just fear. What if that started at home? What if he stopped being so afraid all of the time – of everything, of every one, of every feeling – and actually let hope grow where rot once had? 

He didn’t know the answer to those questions. He only knew that when he finally found her the next morning, putting the finishing touches on a gingerbread display in the front hall, he spluttered: 

“Do you have any plans for the holidays?”

If his sudden appearance and even more sudden question surprised her, she didn’t let it show. She was probably used to it by now, he figured. His strange behaviors, his unsocialized difficulty connecting. Where other people might have recoiled or flinched, she merely smiled as she dusted powdered sugar snow over a perfect 1/35 replica of Wayne Manor. “Black and white movies. A big glass of wine. A defrosted pumpkin pie and probably some Thai food.”

Bruce shuffled. The next question was the part he’d been dreading. He didn’t want to seem like some creepy guy fishing, but he needed to know before he asked…“Alone?”

“Yeah. Alone.” A flicker of pain crossed her face. Again, she didn’t offer, and he didn’t ask why. Her voice quiver gave her away, though. She may try to seem brave, but there was pain under the surface and excuses. “But it’s better, really. I mean, that way, I get to, you know, do what I want on Christmas. No one to tell me what to do or anything. I pick the menu, I pick the movies...My Christmas, My way.”

A twinge of melancholy echoed in those last words. Bruce might have shivered; he’d never seen her anything less than the chipper holiday angel before. But, he had a plan.  

“Well. If you change your mind…” he said, as casually as he could manage. “It’s just going to be me and Alfred here this Christmas. It might be nice to have company.” 

Their eyes met. She froze. 

“We could have Thai food,” he offered, suddenly unsure. Shit. Had he misread this situation? Was he imagining feelings there that didn’t exist? Had he fucked up his first attempt at trying to open up to someone else?

She took a step forward. His heart jumped into his throat. 

“Not exactly traditional Christmas fare, though, is it?” She asked. 

Translation: You don’t have to do that for me.

He took another step forward too, braver than he felt. “We could try something different this year.”

Translation: There’s nothing I’d rather do.

They were impossibly close now, lingering beneath one of the countless arched doorways that made up this creaky old manor. For a moment, he thought she might reach up and kiss him. 

Then, her eyes flickered upward. “You’d better watch out, Mr. Wayne.”

He followed her gaze. Ah.  “Mistletoe.”

“I didn’t put it there,” she said, taking a step back, clearly afraid to give him the wrong impression. 

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I know you didn’t.”

Because he had. He’d hung up the mistletoe last night. 

All the same, he took a polite step back. He might have hung the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss her – knowing his courage would probably fail him without it – but now, he knew better. She would kiss him. And when she did, he would be ready. 

VI. Although it’s been said many times, many ways…

Being at Bruce Wayne’s house, as Bruce Wayne’s guest, was a very weird experience. He was the most famous man in all of Gotham city. She was a professional decorator, barely making ends meet. Totally anonymous and random. If not for a chance elevator meeting a few weeks ago, their paths would never have crossed. 

But the circumstances around her invitation weren’t the only weird thing. Bruce himself was weird, too. 

A nice kind of weird. An unsocialized kind of weird. She’d noticed it that first day in the elevator and chalked it up to him being an awkward first impression. Not great with people he didn’t know. But the more time she’d spent with him, the more she realized he just didn’t know how to be around other people.

Must be isolating, she thought. To be so alone. No parents. No friends. No girlfriends either, if the papers were to be believed. Just his money and his house and, (she imagined as he was the head of a major corporation and a huge power player in politics) many, many enemies. 

It broke her heart. Because it seemed to her, through their days spent in this house together, that Bruce Wayne had a lot to offer people. He just didn’t know how. So, she gently peeled back his layers, finding more and more depths and complexities to him than she ever could have imagined. 

This was a crush. She knew that. But the guy had invited her over for Christmas dinner. Just the two of them and Alfred. That had to mean this wasn’t one-sided…

Right?

Or that’s what she thought, anyway, until she was ushered into the formal dining room and placed at one long end of the table while Bruce sat at the other end.

Formal, indeed. 

During the soup course, she cleared her throat and raised her voice. “I can’t thank you enough for having me.”

Bruce glanced up from over his bowl. “What?”

“I said I can’t thank you enough for having me,” she repeated. 

He answered her, but it was completely unintelligible. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She asked. 

“I said –”

Oh, screw it. Picking up her napkin and her wine glass, she waltzed down to his end of the table and planted herself in the seat next to him. 

“This doesn’t seem like you, Bruce.”

“This is what people do, right? Besides, you decorated it so well in here. It would be a shame to waste the atmosphere.” 

Pushing away from the table, she headed straight for the swinging kitchen door. 

“Where are you going?” Bruce called. 

“Just give me ten minutes.”

And then, she was gone. After so many days here, she knew the manor like the back of her hand. She navigated the stairways with ease, and set about improving this celebration. What was Christmas? Closeness? Coziness? Whimsy? Wonder? 

She thought it was probably a combination of those things. But really, it was just one day where everyone could feel like they belonged. And she hadn’t belonged in that stuffy dining room.

Neither, she suspected, did Bruce Wayne. 

And so it was that, less than half an hour later, she was leading Bruce and Alfred into the house’s cozy basement breakfast nook, which she’d taken the liberty of redecorating with repurposed holiday decor from the rest of the house. This was better. A simple four-top table, cheesy plates retired from an old Christmas party, a mismatch of wine glasses and coffee mugs because she didn’t know her way around Bruce’s kitchen in the slightest. 

It wasn’t like any other Christmas she’d ever had before. But for the first time in a long time, crowded around that tiny table with a billionaire and his butler, she felt very much at home. 

When the night came to an end, Bruce walked her to out. So close his warmth radiated through his jacket. Far enough away that the slight air between them crackled with possibility. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said when they reached the grand entryway. It was a stupid farewell, but the first thing that came to her mind. Her body was too focused on the we’re going to say goodbye in a few minutes and he still hasn’t kissed me, is he going to kiss me, oh god do I still have garlic breath from that last course questions to think of anything cleverer. 

“I’m glad you came,” Bruce replied, opening the door and unleashing a blister of cold air into the manor. They lingered in the doorway together. “I know it’s not easy giving up your traditions.”

“Even if your traditions include brooding alone and not celebrating the holidays?”

He bent his head and ducked behind that shaggy curtain of hair he never seemed capable of managing. An admission of guilt. 

She shrugged. “I’ve been alone for a long time. I thought I’d try something different this year.”

“Glad you did?” Bruce asked. 

She was breathless. Anticipating. This was her moment. Her last chance. “Take a step closer and I’ll tell you.”

Bruce glanced upward at the doorway. A slight furrow developed between his thick eyebrows as he saw what hung between him and his guest.

“I didn’t put any mistletoe there,” he muttered. 

“I know. I did.”  

And with that, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss, oblivious to the snow falling all around them, or the hammering of Bruce’s heart as she unknowingly picked up the broken pieces and put them back together again. 

#bruce wayne x oc #battinson imagine #battinson x oc #battinson/reader #bruce wayne/reader

[hollandorks]

anyone got any newer battinson fic recs?? I feel like I've read all of the "popular" ones but nothing from the past few months!

#fic recs #battinson #battinson x reader #batman x reader #battinson x oc #batman x oc

[werdlewrites]

Are You Happy? (Bruce Wayne x OC)

summary: And despite the tears, the drunken nights, and the pleading for the pain to end - she never tossed it over the bridge like she dreamed of. But could never explain why she continued to wear it beneath long sleeves, hidden from curious eyes and even more sneaky cameras hidden around corners. Maybe it was a reminder that a girl like her could have a love like that, despite losing it like some tragically written novel. warnings: post breakup ouchies, mentions of two oc's falling out (i'm only mentioning it because it seems out of place BUT IT'S FOR THE STORY) wc: 1623

"Are you happy?"

The words play on loop. They run through her mind on track until the circuits begin to fry, letting the world around the two of them begin to fall into a standstill. The gears are burning, and she's unable to process anything outside of this small bubble. The chaotic mass of people dressed to shimmer and shine in the unruly grit of the city had become a blur, her attention zeroed in on the man before her. His face somehow stone cold, yet filled with sincerity and a genuine need to know the truth. The real truth, no matter how hard it hit, or how delicately she held his frailty in her palms. Like a wounded bird searching for care and warmth.

The chatter and thunderous sound of heels to tile had been drowned out by her own heartbeat, flooding her senses as it pushed blood with force. She swears for a moment her vision fills with crimson before blinking it away, idle fingers roaming over the intricate bracelet he made her swear to keep even at the end of all things. And despite the tears, the drunken nights, and the pleading for the pain to end - she never tossed it over the bridge like she dreamed of. But could never explain why she continued to wear it beneath long sleeves, hidden from curious eyes and even more sneaky cameras hidden around corners. Maybe it was a reminder that a girl like her could have a love like that, despite losing it like some tragically written novel. Maybe it was to keep nightmares at bay while she slept, filling her nights with only dreams as she walked through memories with him.

He's patient with her, watching. Seeing the twitch of her skin just beneath her eyelid paired with a knitted brow, and he knows what it all means. She’s upset to see him, and rightfully so. His face had only been seen on the screen or in papers, and even then was it a rarity. It had been a long time since she walked away, her rage leaving a scorched path along the steps of his home while he watched in silence, a fist at his side and regret in his heart. How long had it been, exactly? He held no concept of time as it all seamlessly blended together, his nights spent out there - deep within the city and days trying to understand the meaning of it all. He was glad she wasn't there to see him become this thing - something he had always been destined to be. Yet all the same, he wonders if he would find more willingness to sleep if he knew she was only a few feet away, safe.

"Yes," is her cool reply. Her chin out straight, shoulders pulled back with confidence and hands linked just over the velvet dress. His mind wanders, creating only a moment for the man to bask in - a fantasy, where he walks by her side with a hand gently at her back to feel the soft fabric against his fingertips. Yet she stands alone, tall and proud amongst the crowd. One could easily look over her as she blended in with all of the fineries, like she belonged - and she did. But his eyes always found her - a honeybee to a freshly bloomed flower, dusted with pollen and sweet nectar. He needed her, no matter their distance. No matter how far he had pushed her away. And yet the flower thrived, needing only the water and sun as she danced in the wind. She was happy.

She can't see the clench of his teeth or the fist in his pockets, but he nods in acceptance. Taking it for what it was and knowing it had all been for the best. "Good, you deserve to be."

The woman's fingers are clenched together, knees forced to lock in place beneath the gown to keep her from stumbling forward. She had to remind herself to remain grounded, to stay strong the moment she locked eyes on him - his presence earth shattering as he moved through the space with all eyes on him, hushed whispers of his unannounced arrival. Each move he made was typically monitored through media and spread throughout the city like wildfire, leaving a flock of sheep to follow just to get a good look at the mysterious man, the enigma. He had no invitation for the exhibition, and never needed one as he passed through the doors without question. He owned every step she took, and each breath that filled her lungs.

He owned her in more ways than one. She carries herself high above the rest to stay afloat as the flood of heartache washes in, all the while knowing someday she’ll surrender to its current and admit her truth. She was unhappy.

He had gone, leaving her nights cold, empty and skin burning for a familiar touch yet to be satiated. A year's worth of heartbreak unable to find ways to mend itself, though finding ease as his face sunk into the shadows for weeks at a time. Each photograph of his face ripping the wound wide open until he sunk away once more. And then, a long-time friend now distant, hardly heard from with purpose. A clear miscommunication as arguments tore them further apart, like a twisting thread until the tension snapped. They tried to tie the pieces back together with a coffee date, or a simple phone call - and more often than not, someone had stormed out with that rope growing thinner. The woman was constantly surrounded by people yet no one all the same, all speaking about business and without care for her. But this is what he had wanted, and this is what she was giving him, no matter if it killed her.

“You -” he pauses, eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape, or to see who had all been watching - and there were many. 

There were wandering eyes, looking to the art, to their friends, then back to the duo before gossiping about the interaction. Their time spent together had reached multiple headlines, paparazzi following their every move much to her dismay. Their separation didn’t keep their faces out of the prints, instead it fueled the city's curiosity, and each newspaper that landed on his steps was tossed into the fireplace. The world had nothing better to do than spread rumors on something they were clueless about. 

“You - uh,” Beautiful. He wants to say, “You look beautiful,” but the words are caught on his tongue, trapped by the fear of her response as she lays him out for all to see, shaming him. Trapped by the lack of confidence he once had when he held her in his arms - now out of practice and uncertain if he should say anything at all, after what he did. He chooses a safer route, watching her shoulders deflate to something more relaxed, though disappointed. “It was good to see you.”

Her lips pursed together, gaze falling down to stare at nothing in particular but more so to avoid his gaze for only a moment, searching for the same strength she held before he walked into the hall. But there’s nothing. She finds herself shaken, a mere shadow of the woman to boldly shake hands with strangers, eager to speak on pieces she’s spent weeks to months creating before they placed a heavy price for purchase. “Yeah, you too, Bruce,” she replies, a gentle but feigned smile shining beneath the dim lights. She’s unsure if it’s convincing, but the public eats it up and takes it home for something to talk about for the next few hours. And it’s enough to pull the smallest, crooked smile from the man before turning his back on her, moving through the exhibit slowly to drink in the sight as he eases his way to the main entrance.

When his back vanishes amongst the crowd, that’s when she finds herself weak against the rushing water. Her grip is loosening, a piece of her wanting to follow after him and say, “We’re a team. With and without the mask,” and refuse to take “no” for an answer. Sit her stubborn ass down in the rubble where he worked, absorb his frustration expressed in silent rage as he ripped equipment from the desk. Shit he could afford to break. He could lie and say he hated her, never loved her, never needed her - all in hopes to get her away from the darkness he surrounded himself in. But he was as stubborn as she was, and the fight for a peaceful resolution would last until every star burned out and the world went cold, and silent with death. So she stays behind, allowing their worlds to grow and flourish on different paths no matter how many weeds they come across.

“Ms. Whitlock?” The woman turns from the scene at the door, finding her assistant with clipboard in hand and a weary smile on her face - having stood in the distance with great patience, watching, and waiting for an appropriate moment to speak with the artist. “There’s a company manager that would like to speak with you. He has..offers for a commissioned piece.” The younger girl is timid, head hung low with eyes avoiding contact for shame of coming to her in such a sensitive moment. But the woman straightens her dress and pulls at the long sleeves, her shoulders now back as they once were with a forced assurance, shaking away the disturbance her old love brought with him. “Lead the way, Darcy-”

#battinson #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne x original character #battinson x oc #battinson x original character #battinson x reader #? #rpattz #robert pattinson #bruce wayne fanfic #fanfiction #bruce wayne ff #bruce wayne fanction #battinson ff #battinson fanfic #battinson fanfiction #DC

[lilvampirina]

𝑺𝑵𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑻/𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬 :𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑴 𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀

It was a rainy night in Gotham, as always, it was so cold and dark what an idea to be out at this hour, moreover in a city like Gotham.

What a stupid idea, but what can I say the damned of Gotham were out, whether it was the little thief from the convenience store to the assassin waiting for you on the corner.

Speaking of the assassin, on a rooftop in front of a fancy building in the city, a penthouse that seemed to be worth millions, even billions. There was a shadow, this shadow was looking out of the window with a smile on his lips whistling quietly.

The scene was adorable, a middle-aged man laughing and kissing a woman, surely his wife. They looked like they were on cloud nine, the scene lasted about ten minutes before the woman left leaving this man alone to lie on his bed draped in luxurious silk.

《-...》

A simple sigh before the shadow moves back from its initial place, a step back, then a second and a third. Before running and jumping from the building, her grappling hook came out and she was now on the roof of the penthouse.

Without further ado, she moved slowly, arriving in front of the open window ,she slipped in easily, There she was now, in the room of the wealthy man,who was not yet asleep

《-Who are you?! What are you doing? 》

He was confused and scared, who was this stranger in his room, he had a gun ready for him ready to shoot if it got out of hand.

The shadow as for her, removes her mask smiling while her other hand pulls out a white gun before the man can even speak she shoots two bullets. In his throat and in his head.

Turning back to the door, the lady from earlier, the possible wife, looked at her, she had seen everything. But her look showed no trace of fear, quite the contrary. Her look was satisfied, a cold grin at the corner of her lips, she thanked the shadow for her grin, which turned into a cold smile.

And the shadow nodded before leaving, the woman and the dead man. Together.

A usual night in Gotham.

#dceu #battinson x oc #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #the batman #black oc #batman x black!reader #batman x reader #marvel #black windows

[captain-ariel-rogers]

MASTERLIST

Battinson

On My Own was deleted on September 29, 2023. If you miss that story, and enjoy dark romance, please consider reading the fully published novel based on it! You can find it at the link below (PLEASE CHECK TRIGGER WARNINGS)

Under Your Scars: A Dark Romance Novel

Bucky Barnes

Skin 

Steve Rogers

Cold Water, I’m Underwater

#battinson #battinson x reader #the batman x oc #bruce wayne x oc #the batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x oc #bruce wayne #masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x reader

[blue-aconite]

Coloured Flower Petals || Chapter 1

Summary: Bruce Wayne never thought he’d find his soulmate. He thought the tattoo on his arm would forever remain black. Until he crossed paths with Jasmine.

AN: The first chapter is finally here and I am beyond thrilled. I hope you guys will love it as much as I do.

Also available on AO3

Almost midnight. The ever present grey clouds that seemed to reside over Gotham made everything look darker. The signal hadn’t been on tonight, which was happening more and more since the seawall bombings. Recently, it felt like the city was becoming better. A year had passed since the Riddler had wrecked havoc across the city, since he learnt about his own family’s past. 

Bruce had done his best to fix what his father once broke. With the upstart of the new renewal project, Bruce Wayne had been appearing in public more often. Charity galas, shaking hands with the upperclassmen of the city, openings of various establishments across Gotham, often invited by Mayor Réal. The new project wasn’t tainted, he made sure of that. Everything went through Wayne Enterprises. 

Alfred had been pleased when he had started to take on a more active role in the company. While he still let Lucius Fox take the charge more than often, he now turned up to board meetings, met with various of his department heads and made sure to show his face at least once every week. It was good. He realised that he didn’t need the suit for everything. The Batman could still help Gotham but so could Bruce Wayne. 

Lowering his binoculars, he pocketed them in the utility belt and leaned back against the wall. The night was young but there was an oddly calm veil laying over this city tonight. After Gordon had made Commissioner, Bruce had worked ever more closely with the Gotham P.D. The force had been through a drastic change after the corruption had been exposed. Every officer working for Falcone had been sacked or left on their own. Things weren’t perfect but they were looking better each day. 

A crash across the street immediately had his attention. He spied two men, armed with baseball bats, breaking into what looked like an abandoned store. Rising slowly, he crept along the edge of the roof, melting into the shadows, offering him cover. Another movement further down the street caught his eye and he watched as a young woman peered through the windows of a flower shop. The shop was basked in a soft yellow light and for a moment he wondered why it was still someone there. 

The flowers reminded him of the ever present tattoo he had on his right forearm. Black ink that stood out starkly against his skin, from the moment he came into this world. When he was younger, he used to trace the delicate flower on his arm, wondering if perhaps its other bearer was doing the same. But as the years had gone on, Bruce had quickly given up on ever finding his soulmate. He had accepted that the tattoo would forever remain black. He was so broken, who would ever want him anyway?

Caught up in his own head, Bruce missed as the two men abandoned their current destination and headed towards the flower shop. Glass shattering has him throwing himself over the edge of the building, grappling hook flying from the suit so he could swing across the street. 

The men are already inside the shop when he lands outside, guns pointed at the woman standing frozen behind the counter. Her eyes widen when she spots him but the robbers don’t seem to take notice of him. He has one of them pinned against the wall in seconds, gun thrown across the floor. The man slides onto the ground, unconscious and Bruce turns in time for two bullets to ricochet off the suit's chest plate. He doesn’t see where they end up as he brings the other man down with two well executed punches. 

Making sure they’re both out cold, he looks around for the woman. Peering around the counter, he finds her kneeling against the wall, hiding away from sight. A cut across her forehead, no doubt from the glass shattering, is bleeding slowly. 

He approaches her slowly, not wanting to spook her. She looks up at him with wide brown eyes, fear evident on her face. His heart clenches uncomfortably at the sight. 

He didn’t want her to be scared of him. He is aware the suit is making him bigger, more intimidating. Lowering himself onto his knees, Bruce removes his gloves and reaches out towards her. 

“Come on, I can help you,” he tries gently, offering her his hand. She studies him, eyes going over his face and body. She reaches for his hand slowly but the moment they meet Bruce takes a deep breath, like the wind has been knocked out of him. 

The world is suddenly alive around him in a way that it’s never been before. A warmth is spreading across his forearm, right where he knows his tattoo is located. One look at her sleeveless arm confirms it all when he sees her matching tattoo blooming into life with colour. 

Bruce’s hand is wrapped around her wrist, fingers clutching her tightly. He opens his mouth but no words come out. All he can do is stare at her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. They’re beautiful. A painful twinge makes itself known in his chest and he lifts a hand to gently wipe the tears threatening to fall. 

She leans into his hand, so trusting of a man she doesn’t even know. He gently cups her cheek, his eyes moving over her, checking for injuries. She seems fine but she’s shaking slightly, from the cold or the fright, he can’t tell. 

Her hand comes up to trace his jawline and he closes his eyes briefly, basking in her touch. The world around them is colourful but the air surrounding them is quiet. 

Bruce wishes he wasn’t in the suit right now. That she could see him, Bruce Wayne and not Batman. 

“What’s your name?” the question falls from his lips before he can stop himself. He desperately needs to know. His hand is still cupping her face and he reaches with his other hand to trace the tattoo on her arm. She takes a shuddering breath and takes one step closer to him, their bodies almost touching now.

“Jasmine,” he almost wants to laugh, a smile making its way onto his face. Jasmine. Fitting, seeing how the small jasmine flowers tattooed onto them is now a beautiful mix of white and green. 

“Who are you?” she asks before he can say something else. Bruce remembers that he’s still in the suit, cowl covering him. She doesn’t know he’s Bruce Wayne, though he desperately wants her to know. Deciding that taking off the cowl out in the open isn't the best idea, despite how much he wants to, he instead offers,

“Let me take you home,” Bruce nods towards the door. She nods, letting him pull her along, past the broken door. 

“I’ll make sure that someone comes by and takes care of this,” he spoke while simultaneously messaging Alfred about tonight’s events. Leading Jasmine around the corner to where his bike parked in the alley, he turns to her, never letting go of her hand. 

“Trust me?” the question held a deeper meaning, asking her to trust him, just not right now but after this as well. He could feel her eyes on him, studying his figure. 

“Yes,”.

Taglist; @hollandorks @mcrmarvelloki @eravanaaaah @whats-rambled-rambled​ @neutron-stars-collision​ @lovers-liability @yanna-banana​ let me know if you want to be added/removed

#fe writes #bruce wayne x oc #batman x oc #bruce wayne #bruce wayne fanfiction #the batman #battinson x oc #battinson fic #bruce wayne fluff #coloured flower petals

[thepaintedlady00]

🦇The Batman🦇 works tag list! If you're wanting to be tagged in my coming Batman (Battinson in particular) content interact with this with a comment, reblog or like and you'll be added!

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE TAGGED!

#the batman #batman x oc #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne #batman 2022 #the batman fanfic #battinson x oc #battinson #battinson fanfiction #battinson smut #the batman 2022 #batman fanfiction #batman #the batman smut #the batman martinez #the riddler #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine

[ali-r3n]

After solving one of the Riddler’s games that Bruce was stuck on, the Reclusive Billionaire kisses you.

“You’re a genius.”

#battinson x reader #battinson imagine #battinson x y/n #battinson x you #battinson x female reader #battinson x oc #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne x fem!reader #battinson x fem!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you

[moonclans]

NOBLESSE OBLIGE

Bruce Wayne (The Batman 2022) x Sang-hee Choi (Original Character).

In the summer of 1997, Sang-hee Choi meets Bruce Wayne and the city of Gotham. Years later, when they are no longer children, they begin to unwind the threads that bind them together in both love and dread.

This is a link to a collection of old one-shots and fic snippets part of the unpublished Noblesse Oblige fanfic and dedicated to @malangaleaves, the author. Only registered users on AO3 can access. Please note that this collection contains NSFW material.

AO3.

#.myfanfics #.myedits #bruce wayne x oc #battinson x oc #the batman 2022 x oc #bruce wayne x original character #battinson x original character #battinson wayne x original character #noblesse oblige #the batman 2022 #these are old and unedited and were only posted on ao3 for quicker access #but anyone with an ao3 account is welcome to read comment like or bookmark lol #and while the main fic may not be posted #like #ever lol #we do have a lot to say about this hot toxic couple that we don't mind sharing lol #that's all. bye ~

[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 14

batman x fem!reader

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

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

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

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part thirteen

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

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

gif credit goes to owner / creator!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco​​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​​​ @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​​ @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16​​​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @gasbomb69​​​ @xoxobabydolls @corallyink​

series taglist: @blue-aconite @captainbarnes @chiliiscereal @miniflower93 @scorpio-echo@faithsreviews @buckysjuicyplums @legendaryfishdreamexpert @eucalyptrus @matchesarelit @daphne-bloom @aestheticpisces @baybay123455 @measure-in-pain @spookysins @calumspupils @prettygirlpattinson @johnisonlysleeping @bedshrooms @mischiefmanaged71 @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @siriuslydestiny @strawberriebabbles @katemusic @angelicadiabolus @musamusing @fatherfigured @tojisprincess @eriklensherrschild @uraritychain @philiasoul @violetsthought @srryxmate @frozenhuntress67 @underdarkcityskies @brthofafish @mistasbae @uncle-eggy @daryldixonstorm @tshuuls @alderaansleias @brightjimini @xmalereader (i’m sorry if someone’s @/s aren’t working, idk why!!)

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

#bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne series #mask & seek #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne fluff #battinson fic #battinson smut #battinson imagine #battinson x you #battinson x reader #battinson x oc #battinson series #har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s series #har-rison-s writes batman #mask & seek series

[ladyelissarose]

“The Secrets of Gotham-Unmasked” Part 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10 + pt.2

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13 +pt.2

Chapter 14

Chapter 15 +pt.2

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18 + pt.2

Chapter 19

Chapter 20 +pt.2

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23 +pt.2

Chapter 24

Chapter 25 +pt.2

Chapter 26

Chapter 27 +pt.2

Chapter 28

Chapter 29 + pt.2

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

#bruce wayne x reader #the batman #bruce wayne #robert pattinson #battinson x y/n #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne imagine #battinson #the batman 2022 #batman #bruce wayne x oc #the batman spoilers #battinson fanfiction #battinson x you #battinson x reader #battinson x oc #bruce wayne angst #red hood #jason todd #dc batman #the batman movie #the batman x reader

[lingerasthesmokeoncedid]

peace on earth, goodwill to (bat)man

pairing: bruce wayne/reader

summary: It's Christmas Eve at Wayne Enterprises, and no one wants to be alone.

wc: 1.5k

genre: quiet holiday romance

warnings: none

When You First Took My Hand (on a Cold Christmas eve)

“Merry Christmas Eve, Mr. Wayne. Leaving for the office?”

At the sound of Alfred’s offhand voice, Bruce paused tiptoeing across his kitchen, caught like a teenager sneaking out after curfew. 

Ever since he’d started this Batman thing a few years ago, every December 24th had been the same - and every subsequent year, Bruce thought he would be able to beat the old man. To sneak out of the house before he had a chance to castigate him for choosing vigilantism over holiday cheer.

“Yeah,” Bruce said, wincing. “Have to make an appearance. Give out the bonuses. Looks like Lucius has roped me into judging some cookie swap or something, too.”

Alfred raised one eyebrow, the gesture shifting the festive Santa hat currently positioned atop his head. An uncommonly jolly accessory for the old man, clearly employed to make Bruce feel worse. “And you’ll be home for dinner eight, yes?”

“You know I won’t be. Don’t do this again this year, okay?”

As a kid, Bruce and Alfred spent every Christmas Eve together. It was tradition, a way for Bruce to feel like he had a family for at least a few hours every holiday season. But now, as an adult, Bruce had more pressing matters to attend to - even on Christmas. A fact Alfred hated. 

“The city doesn’t need a Batman tonight,” Alfred said.

“Yes. They do. Come on, Alfred. Don’t look so grim. It’s Christmas.”

It was more of a plea than a wish. Alfred would hear neither. 

The old man closed his newspaper. “Mh-hm. And my dearest wish is that one day, Santa will bring you someone who makes your life worth actually living.”

*

Bruce did his best not to dwell on Alfred’s Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come act. That day, he focused his energies on smiling and glad-handing and being the consummate billionaire guy-about-town - flashing his money around and trying to be charming and everything he really wasn’t.

But like a catchy Christmas song, Alfred’s words were caught in Bruce’s head. Infuriatingly, it made him see the entire holiday season in an entirely new light. Gotham looked surprisingly beautiful this time of year, he noticed. The grime and the slog gave way to twinkling lights and fresh snow. The offices of Wayne Enterprises, too, bustled with unreasonably happy employees. When he judged the cookie swap (a competition that had a one-thousand dollar bonus on the line) that afternoon, for example, he saw one secretary crying about dropping her cookies on the way to the office — only for her desk-mate to offer her cookies as a replacement entry. 

Those cookies won. And the original baker never asked for a cent of the thousand dollars, nor did she take credit for their creation.

For the first time, Bruce actually….well, he wouldn’t say he enjoyed coming in to work this year, but it did fill him with a certain amount of hope that he’d been missing. He noticed the little things today, the kindness and goodness that he often missed when prowling the city for trouble.

However, when five o’clock rolled around and the staff scrambled out to do the last of their holiday shopping and cooking, Bruce readied himself to shake off the warmth of seasonal cheer. He had real work to do. The city needed him -

It was then that he realized he was not alone on the sixty-eighth floor as he’s originally thought. A fact that made his escape almost impossible. 

He couldn’t very well open the door to the alcove hiding his Batsuit with someone working just beyond the glass walls of his office, could he?

So, he waited. Fiddling awkwardly with his computer as the sound of her tinny radio’s Christmas music filled the distant air between them. He found his attention drifting from the police blotter website to her often — not because she was beautiful, he told himself, and not even because she was the one who’d loaned her winning cookies to her unlucky coworker. But because she was an obstacle to him beginning his night of protecting Gotham.

Yeah. That was it. Nothing else. 

And when, around eight o’clock, she brought a Christmas mug to her mouth, drawing Bruce’s attention to her soft lips, he decided he’d had enough of this for one night. 

The city needed him to defend it — not to moon over some woman who might as well have not known he was on the same planet as her, much less on the same floor of Wayne Enterprises. 

Throwing on his coat and his scarf, he left the relative privacy of his executive suite and strode towards her desk — ready to give her a firm season’s greeting and not-so-subtly indicate that she should go back home to spend it with her family. 

However…

He hadn’t counted on her smile. When she saw him coming, her entire face lit up, and she lowered the volume on her radio so she could greet him properly. It wasn’t one of those fake smiles people often gave him — the kind that told him they were very happy to see his money and basically disinterested in him himself. It was the real thing. 

Nothing could have shocked him more. Bruce was so used to people shuffle away when he approached as their boss or bow and scrape when he was their customer. Batman was so used to seeing people scream in horror and run away at the sight of him. 

But there she was. A woman in a ridiculous sweater. Smiling up at him as though they were old friends finally reunited for Christmas. 

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Wayne. Heading home for the night?”

“I,” he said, clearing his throat when the word faltered, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“Me? No, not going home. I’ve got, just, a ton of work to do.”

“Likewise.”

Awkward silence filled only with the sound of Darlene Love singing Baby, Please Come Home followed then. Bruce didn’t know what to say. He had been so sure that his presence alone would be enough to drive her away. Most people in this building — hell, in this city — found him unbearable to be near. His social skills were non-existent and his the overwhelming sadness of his universally known life story made people flee him as quickly as they could. 

Not her. She, actually, leaned in to his presence. 

“Uh, but while you’re here…” She dug under her desk and retrieved an old sewing tin, which she handed to him. “I made cookies. Would you like some?”

“These survived the cookie swap after all?”

“No. I made these for you, actually.”

The cap on the tin came away easily, and there they were — a dozen individual sugar cookies, haphazardly decorated with both silver and blue and green and red frosting, representing both his mother and his father’s traditions. It wasn’t just Christmas. It was Hanukkah, too, and this near-stranger had remembered that he celebrated both.  

Not only was she not running from him, not only was she not uncomfortable being in his presence, but she’d thought of him at the most special time of the year. She’d planned this whole thing so they could share this moment together.

“For…for me?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been working here for three years now. I noticed you always work late on Christmas Eve.”

“I see. You don’t really have any work to do tonight, did you?” 

Having called her bluff, he almost smiled down at her. She met his gaze, conceding.  

“No, Mr. Wayne.”

The cookies, staying late at the office. It all had to mean something. But what? And why did it make him want to sit across that desk from her and talk until the cookies or the conversation ran out? 

“What about your family?” He asked. “Aren’t they missing you?”

“It’s Gotham. You know most of us are alone.” That smile faltered for the briefest of moments, then she recovered. “But I thought maybe this year could be different. For both of us. Even if it’s just in the office.”

From the way her shoulders tensed and her breathing grew slightly erratic, Bruce could tell that this was huge for her — maybe as huge for her to offer as it would be for him to accept.

“Well. That is…” Wonderful. World-shaking. Absolutely baffling. He decided not to say any of that. “It’s just I’m not alone on Christmas.”

She deflated at what she clearly thought was a brush-off. “Oh.”

“My butler, Alfred, is always nagging me to leave this place and spend the holiday with him.”

“I see. That makes sense -“

“But..." He paused. Was he really going to do this?

His hand tightened on the tin of cookies. Such a small gesture to mean the world to him, a lonely kid who hadn't see the soul of this city in a very, very long time. Not until tonight, when she smiled at him and offered him some sugar-snaps.

Yes. Yes, he was doing this.

"But if you'd like to join us, we'd love to have you.”

Her face flushed. “I don’t want to be a nuisance - “

“You wouldn’t be. Actually, I…” He almost chuckled. What would the old man say when Bruce answered his I hope you find someone who makes life worth living remark by doing just that? He wasn’t sure this woman was that person for him. He’d only just met her, after all.

But he had a good feeling. After all, it was at the top of Alfred’s list for Santa, and this time of year was the season of miracles. “I think Alfred has been wishing for something just like this.”

#battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x oc #battinson imagine

[castl3inthesky]

gold rush - bruce wayne

chapter iii

chapter summary: in which carter comes to wayne tower to find that they already have met bruce wayne and alfred pennyworth 

word count: 1.6 k

notes: hi everyone! sorry this took a while but i just got back to school but enjoy 

 playlist  cast ao3  chapter i chapter ii  chapter iii

Carter stood silently in the elevator. They fiddled with Lila’s dress and stared at their ripped-up sneakers. In their brain, they thought of what to say and what not to say to secure the donation. They couldn’t lose this. The kids needed this. Lila needed this. Carter, themself needed this. When the elevator dinged, Carter gave one last large breath as the doors broke open. 

Standing in front of them was the same man that they had a discussion with last night about beer. Carter tilted their head, trying to figure out who he was and how he was connected to Bruce Wayne. In his eyes, Carter could see him, attempting to recognize them. His eyes widen once it hit him. 

“Mx. Hume?” 

His voice sounded familiar, and Carter recognized it from the phone call earlier today. Alfred Pennyworth. 

“Like I said on the phone,” Carter smiled. “Carter is just fine.” 

Alfred smiled before he held out his arm. “Follow me.”

He started to walk, and Carter followed. The two stopped in an open dining room and Carter stood near a circled dining table in the middle of the room. The windows let the light in. They overheard footsteps and turned their head toward the stairs in the corner of the room. 

At the top of the stairs, a man stood. He wore a long, black shirt that went to his hips with matching dark pants and black sunglasses, covering his eyes. Carter tilted their head. He looked familiar to them, but they could place their finger on where they knew him from. At first, Carter thought it was from the newspaper, but they felt like they had seen him in the flesh before. 

They heard Alfred beside them sigh and said. “Mr. Wayne, we are inside. You don’t need to wear those.” 

“There’s too much light coming in.” 

Bruce Wayne’s voice was soft but gruff and familiar. How did they recognize Bruce’s voice? He never did any voice or video interviews. 

Alfred walked over to the large window and pulled a curtain over. The light disappeared and the only lighting in the room was the chandelier above them. As Bruce walked down the stairs, he took off the glasses. Carter recognized him from his tired eyes and the specs of black paint around his face like the man from last night. They held back their gasp in shock. Last night, when they ranted about the rich in Gotham, they ranted to the literal prince of Gotham. If they were alone, they would scream in annoyance. But they couldn’t. They had to get this donation; they couldn’t lose it. All they could do was fake a smile. 

Bruce walked in front of Carter and stared them down. Carter did the same. Standing by each other, he was taller than they thought. He was about a head taller than them and stood straight. 

“Bruce Wayne, Carter Hume.” 

Carter put out their hand first for a handshake. Bruce stared at it first before slowly shaking it. Carter thought he wouldn’t have a strong grip, but he did. He squeezed it hard that it made Carter break from the shake a few seconds after. As Bruce walked to the other end of the table, Alfred slid the chair at the end of the table for Carter and they sat down. Bruce sat down while Carter thanked Alfred.  

Alfred asked as he leaned over Carter’s shoulder, “Is there anything I can get you to drink, Carter? Beer?” 

Carter laughed at the inside joke and responded back. “Um, no, I’m good without beer. Do you have coffee?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can I have a coffee with cream and sugar please?” Carter ordered. 

 “Yes.” Alfred responded before looking at Bruce. “Mr. Wayne?” 

“Water.” 

Alfred nodded and left the room. The silence grew between Carter and Bruce. Carter turned to Bruce as they watched him pick up the newspaper, trying to avoid their eyes.  The front headline read “Batman Strikes” with a drawing of the vigilante under it. Like many of Gotham, Carter had never seen the Batman, only heard whispers. The kids that came into the center would discuss what they heard from the streets. He came from the shadows and disappeared into them.

Carter leaned over. “Sorry if I offended you last night.” 

The silence came back except for the folding up of the newspaper. Bruce stared at them before speaking, “You didn’t. You told the truth.” 

Before Carter could respond, Alfred walked back into the room with a glass of water in hand and a plate with a mug on it. He placed the plate in front of Carter which they thanked him for, and Alfred walked to Bruce with his water. Bruce nodded his head, thanking him. Alfred sat next to Bruce and started the conversation. “So, Carter, explain the center and how it came to be.”

Carter folded their hands, trying to look professional. They took a breath and straightened their shoulders. “I worked in Metropolis for a few years at their LGBTQ+ center and it was an amazing experience. After hearing about the flood, I felt it was right to come back to Gotham and create one with my colleague, Lila Pace. So, while the city was rebuilding, we were building the center.” 

“Back?” Bruce repeated one word. 

Carter tilted their head. “Hm?” 

“You said ‘to come back to Gotham’.” He spoke. “Did you grow up in Gotham?” 

Like the night before, he asked the question like he was interrogating them for an investigation. 

They could just leave it in a small sentence like they did for everyone who asked. Yes, they did live in Gotham but left to go to college in Metropolis for a little. That’s all could they say. Lying came easy to Carter. Responding “okay” if someone asked how they were. They even lied to Lila which they hated but they didn’t want her to worry. 

“Yes, I grew up in Gotham and then left to Metropolis for college and stayed there for work.” 

Bruce stared more at Carter, trying to find something to catch them in a lie. Carter noticed his eye contact but fluttered their eyes and looked to Alfred as he said. “So, what does the center help to support Gotham?”

“Oh, well, we offer services including meals and beds. We have free menstrual and sex products. We are near the schools in Gotham so that in case they need to use our gender-neutral bathroom instead of dealing with the schools’ non-inclusive bathrooms. We also hold support groups where many people can talk about their feelings and build a community together. What your donation will do will allow for us to pay for the space and speakers for those support groups, continue to offer meals, and buy materials.” 

Bruce stopped searching for a lie when Carter spoke. He listened to them and their passion. He could almost hear himself in their tone. Both wanted to fix and help Gotham not just for others but for their past selves. He could tell that there was something deeper that inspired them, he just didn’t know what. Carter though faced the people they helped face to face and helped them firsthand. He did that as Batman, not as Bruce Wayne. He was jealous of them being able to do that. For the first time in a while, Bruce gave a soft smile. Alfred noticed as he turned his head to see Bruce’s reaction. He smiled also before turning to Carter. 

“We will be happy to make that donation. Would we make it out to you?” 

Carter joined in with the smiling. “Thank you so much. It can be made out to me.” 

Alfred took out a checkbook from his pockets and handed it off to Bruce. Bruce placed it on the table and wrote with a black pen. Once he stood up from his chair, he walked over to Carter and handed it to them. Carter knew it was rude to look at the amount on the check first, but they were curious. They had never seen so many zeros in their life.

Without even thinking of it, Carter stood up and wrapped their arms around Bruce. At first, they could feel Bruce jump at the feeling but then he slowly relaxed. Carter relaxed too. They didn’t know why they did but they felt comfortable in his arms, and he felt the same with them. Both of them needed a hug. They needed someone to hold them. Bruce was the first to break off. Bruce stared at them for a second before looking down. Carter looked at him for a second before ruffling their hair. 

“Thank you.” Carter looked at Alfred and then back to Bruce. “The center, especially me, really appreciate it.”

Carter picked up their bag and threw it on their shoulder. “Come to the center anytime. The kids would love to see you.” 

“Do you have to go so soon?” Alfred asked. 

Carter said. “I’m sure you two have a busy schedule. I don’t want to intrude.” 

“We aren’t-”

“Alfred.” Bruce said. “I’m sure Carter has to get back to the center. We don’t want to keep them-”

“I’m free.” 

Bruce looked at Carter and they returned the look with a smile. “Lila is there, and I trust her, even if she almost burned down our apartment once because of microwaveable mac and cheese.” 

They heard a small chuckle from Bruce’s mouth, but it stopped once they looked at him and he locked eyes with them. He coughed a little to cover his tracks, but the damage was done. 

Alfred asked. “We were going to have sushi tonight. Would you like to join? We don’t get many visitors.”

Bruce stared at Alfred with his eyebrows arched and Alfred smirked back. 

“I would love to.”

#wayume #gold rush fanfic #battinson x oc #battinson #the batman x oc #battman 2022 fanfic #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne fanfic #nonbinary oc #batman fanfic #fanfic playlist

[lilvampirina]

𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 : 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐓𝐖: This story contains many sensitivities, such as physical and mental violence, gore, blood and much more, if you are sensitive do not interact with it under any circumstances

While it's only been a year since Bruce Wayne, Gotham's reclusive billionaire, became Vengeance, he must now face an assassin dubbed Ghost by the media, an assassin who seems to kill anyone who has a direct or close connection to an old criminal case from the end of World War I. How will Bruce deal with a series of murders that involve mysteries and secrets buried for years (and the possible discovery of Ghost's identity), while cleaning up a corrupt city and the GCPD that doesn't seem to like the masked vigilante?

This story takes place 1 year before the events of The Batman

For obvious scenaristic reasons,some characters decisions will or could be considered as OOC

PROLOGUE: The shadow called Ghost

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏 : A new murder with the Ghost mark

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐 : What a charming Ghost (coming soon)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑: What Batman wants to know, becomes Bruce Wayne's obsession and what Bruce Wayne wants to know becomes Batman's obsession(coming soon)

more chapters are coming.

The universe of Gotham and its characters are in no way my creation, all rights belong to the creator of the DCEU.

,The plot, the montages and the main character "Ghost" are my creation, so do not steal or translate my work.

#black oc #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dc fanfic #dceu #bruce wayne x black!reader #black reader #marvel #black widow