#bruce regrets his life choices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sohotthateveryonedied · 2 years

Note

What was Tim’s relationship with his parents like? It seems like they left him alone a lot, based on fanon - is that true?

Tim's relationship with Jack and Janet Drake is...messy. Very messy. There are a lot of misconceptions floating around about how Jack and Janet really were as parents, largely due to headcanons and fanfiction exaggerating their abuse/neglect of Tim. So, we're going to clear all of that up by analyzing how Tim's parents were as evidenced in canon.

From the very beginning of his time in comics, it's clear that Tim's parents are hella neglectful. The writers needed a Robin who would be able to do his crimefighting without the interference of parental figures, so they gave him rich absentee parents to achieve that.

Tim's parents mean well; they do genuinely love and care about Tim, considering that the first glimpse we get of them is the Drake family enjoying a trip to the circus together. At face level, they look like a typical happy family.

Batman #436

However, Tim's parents have a tendency to take long trips around the world for their job and leave Tim behind with the nanny. They were noted to be gone for long periods of time during Tim's Robin training, only keeping in touch with their son through halfhearted postcards promising to call soon. They also were prone to extending trips or leaving without warning, giving Tim very little input or notice when it came to whether or not he would be able to spend time with his own parents anytime soon. It got to the point where Bruce became suspicious of the Drakes’ neglect of their son.

Detective Comics #618

Robin #1

Robin #11

“I guess that sums them up! Never know where they’re going to be—or when—or even how long!”

Ah, yes, this is the proper way to raise your child.

So, it is firmly established that Tim’s parents are inattentive and neglectful. They love Tim in their own way, but not enough to be at home often and spend time with him, or to take him across the world with them. Granted, they are incredibly wealthy people with a large company, but…so is Bruce. And Jack and Janet don’t even moonlight as vigilantes, which doesn’t give them much of an excuse.

(I do think that comics tend to use Bruce’s relationship with Tim as a juxtaposition to show just how harmful Jack and Janet’s parenting is for Tim, such as neglecting his emotional needs, not respecting his privacy, etc. Over time, this leads to even Jack having this silent rivalry with Bruce over Tim’s affection. But I’ll get to that later.)

To contrast, here is Bruce offering to take the night off to stay with Tim and comfort him after his parents have been kidnapped:

Detective Comics #619

And Bruce has a reputation for being a questionable parental figure, which just makes Jack and Janet look even worse in comparison.

Then the Drakes are poisoned by the Obeah Man: Tim’s mother dies and his father falls into a coma. Janet’s term in comics was short, so we don’t know a lot about her personality or how she was as a parent, other than that she was not home often. When she and Jack were kidnapped, Janet seemed to express regret about her choices in life, possibly including not spending time with her son while she could.

Detective Comics #620

Otherwise, that’s about it for Janet. There is a fever dream Tim has when he’s dying of the Clench in which he imagines his parents both alive and knowing that he’s Robin. It’s a happy scene, with Janet preparing a home-cooked meal and being warm and present, which could possibly be Tim’s subconscious wishing that this was how his life could have been, but we don’t know enough about Janet’s actual parenting to do much with that. I personally choose to interpret it as Tim’s longing for the ideal family dynamic he never got to have, with both his parents home and acting like a real family.

Batman Chronicles #4

Now, Jack and Tim’s relationship is rocky from start to finish. One minute they’re getting along, the next everything is a disaster, over and over until Jack’s death.

After the Obeah Man incident, Tim is left grieving his mother and worrying about his paralyzed, comatose father. He continues to live with Bruce at Wayne Manor during this time, hoping for Jack to wake up.

Robin II: Joker’s Wild #4

Tim becomes conflicted over the fact that, with the Waynes, he feels for the first time like he’s part of a real family. Which is...very telling. But we already know how neglectful Janet and Jack were of Tim, so are we really surprised? The closest thing Tim had to a “real” family before Bruce was Mrs. Mac the housekeeper.

Upon waking from his coma, Jack has this great epiphany that he’s going to be a better father for Tim and right all the wrongs he made in life.

Batman #480

“I’ll make it up to you—starting tomorrow!”

With his father in a wheelchair and needing all kinds of medical care as he recovers, Tim feels obligated to move back in with Jack and take care of him.

Batman #480

Tim writes his dad a letter venting all of his inner conflicts and harbored resentment, saying that he never felt like he was part of a family before becoming Robin and meeting the Waynes. He wishes he could tell Jack the truth instead of hiding the most important part of his life from him, which causes a rift between Tim and Jack that honestly never fully heals until War Games.

Aptly, the letter is addressed, “To the Father I Never Knew.”

Batman #480

As it turns out, Jack Drake is deeply insecure when it comes to his place in Tim’s life. Jack has no regrets about neglecting Tim until he learns that Tim has a new father figure in his life, AKA Bruce, the resident Dad Supreme. Jack becomes jealous of Bruce, trying to get back into Tim’s good graces because he knows that, in comparison, he’s looking like a pretty shitty father compared to Brucie Wayne, the irresponsible playboy. Ouch.

Batman #480

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #3

This all comes to a head when Jack gets angry with Tim for acting out, cutting school, getting into fights, etc. In turn, Tim gets fed up and confronts Jack about his poor parenting.

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #4

“Who is the son you know, Dad? You don’t know me. You never bothered.”

By the end of the miniseries, they eventually work things out and apologize to each other. Honestly, the biggest problem Tim and Jack have when it comes to their relationship is miscommunication. They both want to be a real father and son, but there are too many obstacles in their way (Tim’s Robin activities, Jack’s inability to care about his son unless it’s convenient for him, Tim’s bond with Bruce) that keep them from having the close relationship they both clearly want.

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #4

Jack really does try to be a better father for Tim over the next few years, but he makes a lot of mistakes along the way. After being kidnapped (again), Jack tells Tim that he’s yet again going to try and be a more attentive father. (As if Tim hasn’t already heard this speech before lmao.)

Robin #7

Jack tries to spend more time with Tim, but his version of spending time together is mostly just springing new plans on Tim and giving Tim little say in any of it.

Robin #11

Robin #12

(It also shows how little attention Jack pays to Tim, since he doesn’t notice that his son has a literal six-pack and could probably benchpress his own weight by now.)

Jack eventually falls in love with Dana, his physical therapist, and she more or less takes up all of his attention for the time being. Tim once again falls out of the spotlight. Tim is partly relieved about this, since it means that Jack is less likely to catch on to Tim’s Robin outings with Dana as a convenient distraction.

Robin #12

Robin #15

Jack goes to all the trouble of making plans with Tim, only to cancel the moment something shiny and new moves into his line of sight. Great parenting, Jack. A+ work. Tim sees this as less of a problem than it is, thanks to his second identity, but any other child would be severely impacted by this “whenever I feel like it” method of parenting. Regardless, Tim and Jack’s relationship at this point is on its way to leveling out for the time being. They still don’t communicate very well, but they generally get along with each other.

After Tim runs away from home and causes a whole incident during No Man’s Land, Jack sends Tim away to Brentwood Academy, a boarding school literally in the same city as them, as punishment for being a lil hooligan. Just say you don’t feel like dealing with Tim anymore and move on, Jack.

Robin #74

When Tim is at Brentwood, Jack informs Tim that he and Dana are engaged through a phone call. Tim is not even an hour away, but Jack figures why waste a day spending time with his own son to tell him the good news when you can accomplish it with a phone call, right?

Robin #78

It isn’t long before Jack Drake goes broke due to his company losing money or however bankruptcy works, and Tim gets to leave Brentwood. Jack chooses this time to once again try to work on his relationship with Tim...

Robin #100

...and then slides right back into ignoring Tim when the loss of his fortune makes Jack too depressed to do much of anything. Not that it’s a huge loss, considering that when Jack does bother to pay attention to Tim, it doesn’t often go well. He has a reputation for getting overly aggressive when Tim acts out, and he has a habit of dragging Tim into obligations he doesn’t want to do for the sake of looking like a present parent, trying to exert control over Tim that he hasn’t quite earned.

(It’s also interesting the way Tim starts to question Jack’s decision, then quickly stops himself and agrees to whatever it is Jack wants, as if Tim has gotten used to being allowed to think and act for himself during his time with Bruce, and now he’s remembering that things are different in the Drake household. He has to go back to Good Obedient Son mode, and if that doesn’t make you sad then I don’t know what will.)

Batman #480

Robin #45

Robin #92

By the time Jack finally gets out of his funk, Tim (of course) forgives him immediately, so they’re back on track again.

Robin #116

(It’s also worth mentioning that Jack forgot Tim’s birthday. Yeah, he was going through his own depressive spiral at the time, but still. Dick move.)

Robin #116

Honestly, I owe a lot of the good moments in Tim and Jack’s relationship to Dana’s influence. She’s a great stepmother to Tim and she helps rein Jack in when he’s being an asshole. Her parenting style is far more caring and considerate compared to Jack’s, who tries to mold Tim into his idea of a perfect son: obedient, masculine, and quiet (whenever he feels like paying attention, that is).

Robin #122

Robin #127

Robin #45

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #1

Robin 80-Page Giant (2000)

Where Dana is understanding and patient, Jack is commanding and rigid. Over time, Dana softens him enough so that Jack is more of a well-meaning dad clumsily trying his best than an abusive asshole, but still.

Jack acknowledging that he screwed up and is trying to fix his and Tim’s relationship has been a major plot point for years up to this point, and it remains a central part of Tim’s civilian narrative for as long as Jack is alive. Jack tries to fix what’s wrong between them, and Tim is eager to have a closer relationship with his dad, even if it’s difficult to accomplish due to his Robin activities. I repeat: They both want to have a good relationship. It isn’t that Jack simply doesn’t care about Tim (which, it could be argued that he didn’t care about Tim until Janet died). They both really do try to fix what’s broken between them. It’s just that Jack can’t accept that Tim is his own person, and Tim can’t risk compromising his identity.

Robin #71

For a small while, things are okay between Tim and Jack.

Robin #124

But pretty soon the inevitable happens: Jack snaps when he catches Tim in a lie about joining the football team to explain a black eye. Instead of confronting Tim about it, Jack decides the best course of action is to ransack Tim’s bedroom for evidence of his delinquency.

Robin #124

Jack inevitably finds Tim’s Robin gear in the closet. Instead of asking Tim about it, like a sensible human, Jack’s second genius move of the day is to go all the way to Wayne Manor and point a gun at Bruce’s face, demanding he return Tim to him.

Robin #124

(Personally, I think Jack’s reaction wouldn’t have been so violent if it weren’t for the fact that it’s Bruce, whom Jack was already jealous of for being closer to Tim than Jack ever was.)

Robin #125

With Jack threatening to expose everyone’s identities and ruin their lives, Tim agrees to give up the Robin mantle to keep Jack quiet.

Robin #125

After that, things between Tim and his dad are relatively okay. Tim is happy to be having a normal life for once, and Jack is appeased now that he has Tim all to himself.

Teen Titans #14

Then War Games rolls around and Tim once again dons the cape and boots to help in the gang war, and he and Jack finally have an honest conversation about Tim’s Robin activities. This time Tim isn’t just giving in to make his father happy, and he’s not struggling with the question if maybe he’ll be better off as a civilian, because he already tried that and he knows now that this is the life for him.

And for once, Jack actually listens to Tim.

Robin #130

They come to an understanding after that. For the first time in Tim’s whole life, he has an honest and loving relationship with his father.

Robin #131

Of course, this is about a week before everything goes to shit and Jack is murdered by Captain Boomerang during Identity Crisis. You win some, you lose some.

(What makes it even worse for Tim is that Jack asked him to stay in that night, but Tim chose to go out and help, so he wasn’t there when Boomerang came for Jack. Oof.)

Identity Crisis #5

In Jack’s last moments, he tells Tim that he loves him and that being Robin is a good thing and he should never turn his back on being a hero.

Identity Crisis #5-6

Unsurprisingly, Tim takes the loss extremely hard. It almost rivals Tim’s reaction to Bruce’s death, probably. After all, it’s his dad. Sure, Tim and Jack had their problems, but he was still his father and he loved him.

I also think a big part of it is that Jack was taken at a time when he and Tim were finally starting to see eye to eye. They finally had the relationship they both always wanted, and then a week later Jack gets murdered. I see it as Tim mourning the relationship he and Jack could have had, rather than the one they did. Tim never got to see what it would have been like to have a perfect relationship with his father because the second everything finally fell into place, Jack was taken away from Tim.

Identity Crisis #7

Robin #167

“Sometimes it’s for Bruce. Sometimes it’s for Conner. But a lot of times, I do it for you. Because you were brave enough to understand the man I wanted to be.”

DCU Holiday Special (2009)

Teen Titans (2003) #34

(Tim’s guilt and grief becomes all-encompassing to the point where he invents a fake uncle just to avoid being adopted by Bruce, but that’s a story for another day.)

Sooooo yeah, that’s about it. Tim loved his parents and they loved him back in their own ways, but he never had a perfect relationship with either of them by any definition.

5K notes · View notes

cursedzucchini · 1 year

Text

Sandwiches taste better be without ketamine — part 1

Y'know all those Danny is in wayne mansion and Alfred drugs him (bc they're sus of this dude, Bruce wants to interrogate him whatever).

Well i had a thought and i think i wanna write it haha

Tw: drugging, disasosiaction (from first pov), overall Danny is not in a good mental space

--------

It was evening.

Danny wasn't sure where exactly he was, nor even what year it was. The mansion he broke in was huge and fancy, all the gothic aesthetic this city seemed to be almost worshipping and the slimy smell of money, included.

At first he hoped no one will notice him, as foolish as it was with his luck. He wasn't all that suprised when an elderly man in black suit tapped his shoulder and asked if he would want a 'brunch'. If Danny didn't have ghost sense, he'd suspect he was the ghost of a butler or something, but no. The man was very much alive, if not a little liminal. But at this point who wasn't.

:read more:

And yes, Danny can admit it was stupid not to ran the moment he noticed the man, but... was it so wrong to hoped maybe for once he met nice people who wouldn't try and vivisect him?

Feeling the familiar artificial feeling of fatigue, yes, yes it was.

In the private of his mind, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. The man seemed nice, but more importantly his food was divine. God, if his existence wasn't banned by the government, he might've even take the drugging for the food.

Yes, he might be disasosiacting. Not like he has any other choice, if he doesn't want to destroy this place.

“Is something wrong sir?” the elder (he introduced himself, but Danny figured trying to drug someone made him loose name privileges) asked, a great imitation of genuine worry lacing his voice. The boy had to give it to him, he was an excellent actor (who tried to drug him. Put something in his food and he didn't notice. Wanted to do who knows what with.him. druGgeD hIM lIKe tHE gIv dIiiiIIiIi—)

Danny blinked. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He opened his mouth to speak, but the ever boiling anger was now even stronger than normally. He wanted to scream and punch the man. He wanted to take the tasty guacamole toast and throw it so hard it cracks the wall. He wanted to destroy and wail and-

Instead he continued staring at the man, no emotions visible on his face. Danny didn't want to say anything, or even move, because what if that was the catalyser for him to break and just... do something he might regret later. But the longer was sitting on the stool, the stupid toast in front him, the man's eyebrows scrunching in fake worry—

"If there is anything I can—"

"is it normal for you to drug every guy who visits, or am I just that special?" he could hear himself say. Or well, Danny knew he was saying this, but it was as if it was beyond his control. Like he was just a onlooker in his own life.

The butler blinked, but other than that no surprise showed on his face. So it wasn't a mistake, Danny noted, ignoring the rising tension in his body. Some part of him sighed, already preparing to fight the grandpa before him.

"it appears there was some sort of—" the boy jumps over the island, zeroing onto the older man's hand. He wrenched the stun gun out of his grasp, not afraid to bite or scratch, all the while dodging a kick to his side. The other man had suprisingly strong grip, but it was nothing in face of Danny's rising suspicions and surprise attack.

The boy swiftly got as far away as he could, dismantling the weapon without taking his gaze away from the butler. The man was watching his action, apparently already gotten over Danny's surprise attack. A shame, he hoped he'd be able to overshadow the elder when he was in shock. He wasn't otherwise suprised, when he brushed his mind before, he could feel his mind was strong.

The familiar haze of pills was starting to take over Danny's body. He had to leave quickly. He couldn't leave without injuring the older man. If he didn't do something right now, he will fall unconscious.

Snarky quips it was than "If you wanted to get rid of me, you could've just called the police like a normal person y'know" the words came out more bitter than he wanted, but even that didn't shake the man before him. The butler was still watching him, positioned in something Danny vaguely recognized as fighting stance, face impassionate. That fact alone made him add "Or just... Tell me to leave. Literally anything but putting anesthetics in a perfectly good sandwich" only to see him squirm. The way he was so unbothered... Well it made Danny uncomfortable. (No one who drugged a kid, even if they had white hair and glowed, without showing an ounce of remorse was not a good person)

His eyes were closing, and he could feel his grip slipping on his power. What was the old man thinking?? The average human would probably be dead if they ate this much ketamine... This was getting more and more dangerous by the second, he had to... He had to... He...

"I apologize for all of this, but anyone able to enter this mansion unnoticed, cannot simply leave before some... Conversation happen" and didn't that sound ominous as hell. His vision was swaying, and he couldn't stay on his feet anymore. The panic was the only thing keeping him conscious. The moment he fell asleep, he wouldn't be able to keep his ecto signature in check, meaning They would immidietly know where he is. He would no longer be putting only himself in danger, but also the old man (as much as he deserved it for drugging him).

And he didn't know how his powers worked after everything. He could easily destroy this whole mansion, just by unravelling his true appearance.

"No... I- I have to... I..." his core was screaming. the similarity of this situation was a reminder of how he changed and what he used to be. He try to move towards where he thought could be the outer wall, but his limbs were so heavy. The boy didn't even bother to look at the old man anymore, just trying to get out of here. He turned on his stomach, crawling away from the man, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. They stung in anger and hopelessness that once again filled him.

"It will not take long, you have nothing to worry about child" if he was little bit more aware, he might catch the pity in his voice, but he wasn't. All he could hear were threats and scorn. A noise, that wasn't entirely human, build up at the back of his throat. He couldn't stop the pathetic high pitched whines that escaped his mouth, even as his eyes were closed and body no longer moving.

And exactly in that moment the door to the kitchen smashed open, a burning core answering his own "What the fuck is going on here?!"

---

Yeah idk this was just something on my mind, idk how this would even continue lol

Uh some more stuff i thought of for this

Danny wouldn't have a good relationship w Alfred at first. Like dude wouldn't trust him at all, not his food anything he says, and all. Idk the batfam could feel guilty, or it'd just be a cool new experience it doesn't matter

On that note, their relationship would probably get better, but i just wanted to acknowledge that someone drugging u is super traumatizing even if they do it w good intentions

Danny got kidnapped/sold to giv it doesn't really matter, but what is important is that he's full ghost. Why? Idk i just think it'd be so terrible for giv to see this Schrodinger's boy and went "yo what if we made him full ghost" and them succeeding. Like first of all that shit would destroy Danny and also it'd be such a terrible situation. Also batmans reaction to Danny dying, surviving (kinda) and than dying again would be so interesting

Also the person to come in is obviously Jason. He heard a kid screaming and felt it, and the pits went "baby >:((("

No idea what happens after, but at some point he stays at the manor and stuff happens. Idk what yet but it could be anyying

Where's batfamily? In batcave probably idk

I'm so tired i just finished writing this an holy wow kill.me. it's been a rough week haha. Hope u liked this i might continue this but probably not

939 notes · View notes

gffa · 9 months

Text

Dick sneaks out to chase down a case about missing girls that Batman and Robin have been working on, ending up solving the case and freeing the girls by himself, while Alfred frets with worry about how Dick's putting himself in danger and throwing away his youth on this crusade and how he puts so much on his young shoulders. And now I'm thinking about just how many times I've seen Alfred step in and steer Bruce towards a gentler demeanor when dealing with Dick's determination to go down this path's crusade. How often we talk about Bruce could not have stopped him from it, that Robin was a leash on the kid, rather than putting Dick in harm's way for his own need to fight criminals--but the same is true of Alfred. He watches that kid, he worries about him, he's afraid that Dick is throwing away the years of his youth on this fight and if he'll regret, he never relaxes because he knows Dick's two seconds away from sneaking out to go fight people grown adults who are legitimately trying to kill him. But Alfred also sees the same thing Bruce does--that they're not going to stop someone that determined. And Alfred sees even further than Bruce does sometimes, in that Dick's desperate to prove to Bruce that he can be trusted to do this job, to justify the trust Bruce has placed in him, and that Bruce needs to gentle himself with the kid, even when he's terrified that Dick could have gotten himself hurt. Yeah, Dick put himself in danger without Batman there to watch over him, but he did it for the same reason that Bruce started this path, too. That Bruce didn't put that spark of angry need for justice in that kid, Dick came by that all on his own, the night his parents were murdered, and neither Bruce nor Alfred were pulling him into something that he didn't want, they were instead giving him shape and form to channel that need. Alfred has never liked this choice of theirs, to dress up in costumes and go punch criminals in the face, but he doesn't stand by out of passivity, but instead because he recognizes that Dick was going to do something and this was the best he could do to help shape the kid into something that would survive it. Including stepping in to help him behind Bruce's back or straight up saying, "Yeah, I helped him and you are going to be gentle with him, because that kid is desperately trying to prove himself to you and you're the only stability he has and you of all people should know what he's feeling about needing to help people." Alfred can't force either of them into a life that he would prefer for them, he can only help provide guard rails on the roads they've chosen, but what a difference that has made for them both. I love Bruce and Dick's relationship, I love it because the question of, "Where do you take a character who fights crime because of the trauma of his lost parents?" has a fascinating answer in, "You have him--step by painful step--grow into being a parent himself, learning to open himself up to being gentle with people he loves and fears losing, to learn to trust those he loves even though they might die." and, when Dick's own losses are mirrored in Bruce's, driving the parallels home even further, it's so important for Bruce to learn to be a father to this kid, as his own father figure nudges him back onto the right path. Alfred is such an important part of that character arc for both of these characters, he is part of the thematic bridge of parents and children that runs through the Batman family of stories, and his role of guiding Bruce into being a better father--to heal from the loss of Thomas and Martha Wayne who should have been there to guide him--by telling him, in the most British gentleman way possible, to look the fuck around and see what's going through that kid.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #robin year one #long post

222 notes · View notes

oldmannapping · 2 months

Text

Fic: Bodyswap (Part 2)

Part One

Based on my own prompt about wanting a body-swap fic that dealt with the gross embarrassing parts.

This has expanded into something more than I intended, but I can't stop writing.

It's a Dick-Jason, Tim-Steph bodyswap. There is literally no plot. They're body-swapped and trying to deal with it, that's it. No pairings, past Steph/Tim.

It's crack treated like crack. It's two parts for now but I might add more. Warnings for language, discussions of menstruation, discussions of sexuality.

EXCERPT:

“This isn’t just PMS,” Tim continues blithely. “This is definitely something more.”

Bruce and Dick take sizeable steps backwards. Jason cackles.

Steph flares Tim’s nostrils and opens her mouth. Far too late, Tim realises that he’s in danger.

“Timothy.” Somehow, she makes Tim’s voice growl almost as low as Batman’s. “PMS is not JUST anything. When women say that they are tired. Sad. Having cravings. Not themselves. We are not just making excuses to lie in bed and let the patriarchy win.”

Oh no, she said “patriarchy”. Tim’s fucked.

Bruce rubs his forehead, eyes pinched closed. He’s only been in the Cave for six minutes and he’s already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

“So you can read each other’s minds?” he clarifies, still not opening his eyes.

“No,” Jason snaps derisively.

“Not really,” says Dick dick-lomatically. (Duke used that word ONE TIME and no one has ever let it go.) “It’s more like… familiar thought patterns? I’m still me, with my memories and thoughts, but I’ve got Jason’s… knee jerk reactions. His instincts. It’s hard to describe.”

“I haven’t noticed anything like that,” says Tim, peering at the older men with curiosity. “I haven’t run too many experiments yet though. I’m planning all sorts of cognitive testing and brain scans but I’ve been really foggy-headed and haven’t been able to put it together like I normally would.”

He frowns. “Now that I think about it, maybe that’s a symptom in itself. Could it be that the spell actively smothers attempts to break it? I was writing a program to analyse the results of some basic nerve conduction studies yesterday and I got so tired I had to have a nap. When I woke up, I was ravenous and completely forgot about the studies. This is fascinating. Bruce, is there any precedent for spells that are self-protecting like that? This could be something we should consult Zatanna about, or maybe even Constantine…”

“Yo, Boy Genius,” interrupts Steph, clicking Tim’s fingers in front of her own face. “That wasn’t the spell. Brain fog, fatigue, increased appetite? Congratulations, you’ve just discovered PMS.”

Tim is aghast. Jason has barked a surprised laugh and Dick and Bruce seem baffled.

“That, that can’t be right,” Tim insists. “You don’t understand Steph, I was operating WAY below my usual capacity. This wasn’t just a little brain fog. I was having a hard time with codes that I’d normally be able to do in my sleep. I forgot the word for “synthesise”. I took a two-hour nap then ate half a rotisserie chicken. I threw my keyboard across the room and then cried when it broke.”

“That was my chicken,” says Dick in a small, sad voice. Jason’s body needs a LOT of protein.

“This isn’t just PMS,” Tim continues blithely. “This is definitely something more.”

Bruce and Dick take sizeable steps backwards. Jason cackles.

Steph flares Tim’s nostrils and opens her mouth. Far too late, Tim realises that he’s in danger.

“Timothy.” Somehow, she makes Tim’s voice growl almost as low as Batman’s. ��PMS is not JUST anything. When women say that they are tired. Sad. Having cravings. Not themselves. We are not just making excuses to lie in bed and let the patriarchy win.”

Oh no, she said “patriarchy”. Tim’s fucked.

Steph’s not done. “We are not weak. We are not hysterical, moody hypochondriacs with wandering wombs. We are experiencing the VERY REAL mental and physical and emotional effects of our bodies preparing to have a BABY and then overhauling itself by EJECTING AN ENTIRE BABY HOUSE out of our vaginas.”

She’s still not done. Tim’s trying not to breathe in case that makes her angrier.

“I’ve gone on patrol with a heat pack strapped under my costume. I’ve sat exams on days when I can’t remember which bus I usually take. I’ve cried in the bathroom at work and wiped my eyes, reapplied my mascara, and gone back out there because I’m a fucking woman and that’s what we’re doing every single freaking day while you assholes are telling us that we’re biologically designed to earn 35% less than you.”

Tim opens Steph’s mouth and all the other men in the room know that whatever he's about to say is going to be a mistake. “I don’t think women should earn less than men,” is what he lands on.

Bruce decides to speak up before Steph can reply. He's very brave. “So we can reasonably assume that the spell isn’t actively trying to prevent anyone from breaking it,” he says, clearing his throat. “And it doesn’t transfer thoughts and memories, but engrained thought patterns and autonomous reactions.”

Dick is very happy to be back on topic. “Yeah, basically.”

“What are some examples?” asks Bruce, walking to the Batcomputer and pulling up a spreadsheet.

Jason and Dick glower at each other silently, not wanting a rehash of their previous argument. This whole situation was dignity-shattering enough.

Dick coughs. “Jason and I have noticed,” he says carefully, “that we have each other’s automatic reflexes to situations. I’ve noticed that my aggression levels are up. I’m always wanting to scan the room for a threat. Jason’s noticed similar things about my body’s reactions.” He hopes that’s enough detail.

Bruce hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s just your bodies,” he muses, typing rapidly. “It could be your brains – your actual, physical brains, not your consciousness or whatever’s been transferred by the spell. Brains like patterns and routines. It makes them effective. It seems that while your consciousnesses have been transplanted, the structure of each of your brains has remained unchanged.”

“Has anyone studied this before?” asks Tim, pulling up his phone and tapping away. “It makes sense but I’ve never heard of body-swapping having this particular wrinkle before.”

“It sounds like your bodies’ hormone levels remained the same too,” says Bruce awkwardly, glancing at Tim-in-Steph’s-body’s abdomen with faint alarm. “Of course, we’ll need to run further tests but that shouldn’t be too difficult since we’ve already been taking daily bloods…” He hums again and opens several more browsers, muttering to himself.

-_-

“TESTING!” booms Bruce’s voice suddenly, two hours later. He looks around. He is alone in the Cave. He presses the intercom. “Alfred, could you gather the kids and tell them- Dammit!” He misses Alfred so much. Bruce sighs and dials Dick’s phone, calling his children back to the Cave.

Once they’re assembled, he starts again.

“TESTING.”

They’re standing in a circle on the mats. Jason’s pointedly holding his phone where Dick can see the screen as he scrolls through nipple piercing and tattoo websites. Dick is trying to focus politely on Bruce. Tim and Steph are glowering grumpily next to each other.

Bruce ignores their moods. He claps his hands. He’s excited for testing. Testing is one of his favourite parts of weird magic times.

“Dick!” he says, pointing. “Unlock Jason’s phone.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason locks his phone and hands it off to Dick. Dick starts to hold it up to his/Jason’s face when Bruce says, “No, with the PIN. Don’t think about it, just see if you can do it with muscle memory.”

Dick looks back to the phone and stares for a beat. Then, his thumbs move rapidly to swipe through a nine-digit code. The phone unlocks.

“Motherfucker,” Jason swears, grabbing his phone back.

“You didn’t know the code before now?” confirms Bruce. Dick shakes his head. “What is it?”

Dick frowns, then shrugs. “I have no idea. My thumbs just-“ He mimes typing on a phone. “It was too quick for me to catch all the numbers.”

“Fascinating.” Bruce is so excited to add to his spreadsheet. He pulls something out of his pocket and throws it to Steph.

She catches it automatically. “Okay? We know we all have good reflexes?”

“You caught it with your left hand,” points out Bruce. “Even though that meant you had to reach across your body. Even though you, Stephanie, are right-handed, this body is not. This body’s brain and mind are still wired to have Tim’s reflexes even if you’re the one in conscious control.”

The four affected youths eye each other warily.

Bruce pulls out a folder. “I’ve printed some pictures to show you. I want you to give me your automatic reactions to these images, don’t overthink it.”

He goes through both benign and personal pictures. It turns out that seeing Dick’s favourite food makes Jason’s mouth water. Seeing Steph’s old childhood toy gives Tim, in her body, a jolt of nostalgic nausea even though he’s never seen the tatty bear before. (“How do you even have a picture of Mr Huggins?” asks Steph. “Creeper.”) Seeing a playground makes Tim’s body anxious and Jason’s body prickle with protective anticipation.

They all thoroughly agree that Bruce is weird for making them do all of this and then immediately disband to run secret individual experiments on their own.

-_-

“This body!” snaps Jason. “This body is so NEEDY!”

Dick groans. “What now?”

Jason paces restlessly. “First it needs to move all the damn time. I always thought you were fidgeting and doing handstands off tables and shit to be annoying, but you really can’t help it.”

Dick shrugs. “It’s been kinda weird to be in your body and not feel like that. I keep thinking I’m forgetting something but it’s just that I haven’t moved in a while and usually that’s a problem. No wonder you don’t mind long stakeouts.”

“No wonder you hate them,” Jason agrees. “It’s not even that this time. It’s this weird, like, almost itching. Like a shortness of breath. You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

He stalks over to his own body and frowns up at his own face. “Huh,” he says. “You’re not afraid of me. Zero fear response. You’re an idiot.”

Dick rolls Jason’s eyes. “Yeah yeah, you’ve very scary and edgy. Such an ambiguous anti-hero. Dear me, I hope he doesn’t snap one day. Etcetera.”

Jason shoulder-checks him (ineffectively) and storms over to where Tim and Steph are sending each other triggering images over text to see who will break first. Steph’s just sent Tim a picture of a happy family on vacation with the caption “not u lol” when Jason reaches them.

They stare at Jason blankly as he gets up in their personal space. They’re used to Dick being close to them so it doesn’t feel weird, but they know it’s JASON, so it IS weird. Jason grabs Steph-as-Tim’s arm and holds it for a moment. He grunts and releases it. He turns to Tim-in-Steph, an odd look on his face. He reaches for Tim’s arm but the movement seems to get away from him and he ends up grabbing Tim around the shoulders with one arm, holding him in close.

“What are you doing?” yelps Tim, struggling briefly.

“I have no idea,” says Jason, who seems equally baffled but isn’t letting go.

“Holy moly,” says Steph. “You two are tragic. Dick’s body needs a HUG, morons.”

Jason and Tim freeze. They simultaneously realise that this isn’t a strange new grappling move. This is a hug. Oh no they’re hugging. They don’t hug. They’re not huggers.

Dick snickers, coming over to view the scene. “I could have told you that,” he informs Jason.

“It’s not allergies?” says Jason, shuffling around to look at Dick without letting go of Tim. “Your body wanted a HUG? What are you, a toddler?”

“Hugs aren’t childish,” scolds Steph mildly, taking photos on her phone even though they will never capture the true awkwardness of a Tim-and-Jason hug. “Heaps of people need touch to feel good. Hugs, cuddles, patting a pet, whatever. Dick’s a hugger, you already knew that.”

“I knew he liked hugging, I didn’t know he needed it to live,” bites Jason, trying to appear nonchalant and cool while embracing Tim to his chest like a doll. “Why is this body hugging you? Steph, I mean. Why not just go for the closest person?”

Steph and Dick roll their eyes. “Jason, when was the last time you and I hugged?” Dick asks. Jason glowers.

Steph nods. “Dick and I hug all the time, dude. You two aren’t cuddly. That’s cool. Whatever. Tim lets me use him as a pillow at movie night so I’m happy. Dick’s body probably feels more comfortable with mine than the others here.”

“Plus, girls are so nice for hugs,” Dick adds. “So nice and soft. So snuggly and safe.”

That does it. Tim and Jason break apart and swiftly put eight feet of space between them. The incident is swiftly added to the Never To Be Spoken About Again list, which is growing longer by the day.

-_-

The end? To be continued? Who even knows.

123 notes · View notes

strong-with-the-sarcasm · 9 months

Text

Part 3 - If you could’ve seen

Dp x DC: Regent!Jazz, Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 2

“If you could’ve seen how I looked yesterday, a hopeless disaster, but I’m getting better at being faster.” -Never Look Back by The Nearly Deads

Jazz wasn't so proud to admit that she had many regrets about her life choices.

Taking the Crown was a fine line between terrifying and glorifying, with the many scars and callouses Jazz now bore from the hours of training (at Pandora's behest) a misgiving that was required for the sake of survival.

Hurting her little brother was the heaviest weight on her chest.

It hadn't been that Jazz meant to cause Danny pain from escaping Amity Park, but he'd already died there once from the portal and almost a second time when her parents the older Fentons captured Phantom in a thermos and strapped him down.

They had crossed a line, the point of no return, and Jazz was done trying to fix her broken family. The moment they cut into Danny while he screamed "I'm alive, I'm alive!" was the renouncement of their right to their own lives.

Jazz had enacted Vengeance for her little brother, the hero in death he shouldn't have had to become. For all the Unquiet Dead and Neverborn ended by the Fentons.

For her lost childhood. For her lost humanity.

Slash, slash, slash went the Regent's sword. Blood spattered the walls of the lab, mixed with the ecto already there from a fight for one's existence.

One slash, two, three Blood is on your hands already.

Frostbite would later, admist the ice and snow of the Far Frozen, that as a Liminal Jazz had triggered a rage state due to both her emotions and her unintentional ecto-starvation.

It wasn't enough to absorb it from the environment anymore, not with the Crown and summoning her ecto-sword. She would have to consume raw ecto to replenish her levels and diminish the chances of another blackout rage.

(Frostbite and Danny would never know that Jazz was fully aware of her actions.)

(She just didn't care anymore, Danny was more important.)

Danny had healed over the few months they were in Gotham, his incision wound now a grotesque Y-shaped scar over his scrawny chest that would never fade. His ecto-levels were improving with constant exposure to a natural portal, corrupted as it was, and slowly he was gaining back his sense of self.

Jazz didn't talk much anymore, but Danny was all too happy to argue with her- about her ripping him away from his haunt, killing his parents, his friends, and going out as a vigilante almost every night.

(As she had guessed, Danny was relieved that the Joker was dead and not a ghost.)

(He'd never know that Joker had returned as a ghost, but the Regent crushed his core before he could even form words.)

(Both Sam and Danny approved of her trophy though.)

At the other end of Crime Alley, tucked away in a safe house, Jason Todd was dying.

Well, so he thought, as his heart ached in his chest and beat so fast it could almost rip itself from his rib cage.

(If he was a lesser man, he might’ve gone crying to Bruce for help, but not in this life.)

Jason had collapsed on his bed in full gear, sans helmet, as the pain began to wrack his body. Was he truly dying again?

(He wasn’t ready to. Not again.)

And to think his night started so well.

He’d woken up a few minutes before his alarm went off, the hazy dregs of sleep trying to lure him back in, back to the rather nice dream he’d been having.

(Feminine build in bloody armor, a teasing grin, soft lips against his own.)

He didn’t even have patrol that night, his one day off a week he could just relax as Jason, not Jay Peters or Red Hood- only for it to be ruined by the emergency alert on his phone announcing that his murderer had broken free again.

Fucking Joker.

Old familiar rage simmered low in Jason’s gut, but much to his surprise, his vision didn’t tint neon green. No haze of being on the verge of a blackout rage at the mere thought of his murderer.

Nothing.

(What was going on?)

It wasn’t as if the Pit Madness could just be gone, right?

Right?

(Jason Todd was no a fool, the Madness was still there.)

(Just… sedated. Like it didn’t need to boil to the surface anymore where it concerned his murderer.)

And for the first time in a very long while, Jason felt like himself again.

Until the agony began.

A/N:

{I swear I try writing something that’s not angst for once and this is what I get. Great. Well as long as someone likes it, right?}

{Oh and sliding in an AU for Jason too! Not Halfa!Jason, because I’m not a particular fan of how I would write it. But something more akin to what he was when he dug himself out of his grave pre-dip in corrupted Ectoplasm ala League of Assassins.}

#dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc #jazz fenton #I tried writing something more positive and this is the result #more angst for the pile #yay #at least we have the mounted clown head right?#and Jason POV!#Jason is a… trope.

314 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Text

Can We Keep Him Pleeeease?

Platonic Sam Wilson x gn!reader

The youngest super soldier brings home an unusual pet.

Warnings: swearing, Sam is basically reader’s dad

WC: 1.4k

“What the fuck is that?!”

“A smoothie.” Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of Sam’s living room, a squirming bundle wrapped tightly in their arms, with one hand clutching an obviously empty smoothie cup.

“Oh ok, so just a smoothie then. I obviously wasn’t talking about the FUCKING ANIMAL YOU HAVE IN YOU HANDS?!” Sam threw his arms into the air in frustration and gestured wildly at the gray snout now poking from the hoodie Y/N had wrapped it in.

“Why are we yelling?” Bucky groaned, stumbling from his bedroom and almost running into the Captain. Y/N shoved the cold snout back into the fabric, receiving a grumble in reply.

“Look, a bird!” They shouted quickly and pointed over his shoulder, effectively distracting the super soldier for a couple seconds, which was more than enough time for them to turn and make a mad dash to their room.

The younger avenger sighed deeply, already regretting inviting the teen hero to live with him and Bucky during their summer break from college. He winced as he heard their bedroom door slam shut, rocking the house with the force. Two super soldiers in his home, what could go wrong?

“There’s no bird.” Bucky whined sadly.

“How have you survived this long?”

Bucky shrugged. “I spent most of my life frozen.”

——————

“Ok and here’s a temporary bed for you until I buy you a new one. Or you can sleep with me, it’s your choice. Now, is there anything else you need?” Y/N’s voice was muffled through their door but Sam could hear it clear enough if he pushed his ear against the wood at just the right angle.

He had already ruled out a bird, a frog, and a fish, but everything else was fair game. He was ever so slightly terrified that they had brought home an alligator and he couldn’t put it past them. Sam shivered at the memory of them appearing on the local news after ‘rescuing’ a crocodile from the zoo a few years back. And their defense had simply been ‘she looked lonely’.

“Food! Yes, I have some food for you already. But don’t tell Bucky I’m taking his salmon. He wanted to cook it tonight but we all know that he can’t cook to save his life so this will be a mercy for that poor fish. You stay here and I’ll be back in a second.” Sam didn’t bother stepping away from the entryway, only standing up straight with his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a disapproving frown that only tired dads could pull off.

Y/N jumped slightly as they opened their door and was met with Captain America’s chest. “What’s gucci, Sam?” The door quickly shut behind them, blocking Sam’s view into the room.

“What animal do you have in there?”

“There is no animal in my room, what are you talking about? I think the added responsibility of being America’s greatest superhero has made you go crazy.”

Sam could actually feel his blood pressure rising. “Y/N.”

“Why would I bring an animal home? Bucky is pretty much like three dogs worth of animal so why would I need another pet?” They were rambling now.

“Tell me what’s in your bedroom or I’ll send you to live with Bruce.” They stopped, their eyes narrowing on the slightly taller man.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” They held his gaze for another minute, silently weighing their options. To live with Bruce meant more freedom with animals, sure but they didn’t know if they could put up with his yoga and ‘breathing exercises’ for months on end. Y/N relented.

“Fine but please, give him a chance.”

Y/N slipped back into the small bedroom designated as theirs but left the door open so Sam could follow. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for the hell he was about to walk into, and then stepped over the threshold.

The young super soldier was on their knees at the foot of their bed, carefully lifting the yet to be identified pet into their arms. They cooed at the creature, rocking slightly before turning around.

“Sam, meet Jeff the land shark. Jeff, meet Sam.” Huge black eyes stared back up at him from Y/N’s arms, observing the man before it’s large mouth broke into what Sam guessed was a grin, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth. It Jeff wiggled in their arms, pleased with the new person in its space.

Y/N smiled brightly alongside the shark-hybrid thing. “Look how cute he is!” They squealed, hugging him tightly to their chest. Jeff, quite pleased with the attention, grunted happily, his four short limbs waggling around, along with his tail, which seemed to be at least as long as his stout body.

“You’re such a perfect boy aren’t you? Yes you are. You’re my perfect boy.” Sam didn’t know what he was more disturbed by, the shark creature or the fact that this teen, who he had witnessed punch a man so hard, his body flew through five walls of solid concrete, was baby-talking said shark creature.

Jeff’s triangular snout pressed into their pudgy cheek, nosing at their flesh affectionately. “I um- what? I have so many questions.”

“If I answer them, will you let me keep him?”

“No.” Sam said firmly, eyes still fixed on Jeff.

“But Saaaaaaam.”

“No buts Y/N. You brought a dangerous animal into this house without my permission.”

They turned away slightly, shielding Jeff. “You brought Bucky home without my permission so I think we’re even.” Jeff propped his thick head against their shoulder so he could continue to look at Sam, his tail wagging wildly beneath him.

“That’s different, as much as I hate to say it, Bucky is a person.”

“Ha! I told you I would get you to admit it!” Came from the other side of the house.

“Shut up Bucky!” They both shouted in unison.

“You can’t keep him.”

“Pleeeeeease.”

“No.”

“I’ll be good! I’ll wash your car! I’ll go on runs with you! I’ll even do your laundry!”

“Y/N.”

“Sam.”

“You can’t keep him.”

Y/N grumbled something under their breath, tucking their face into where Jeff’s neck would be. “What was that?” Sam raised an eyebrow at them.

“I said Tony would let me keep him.” Sighing deeply, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Tony also let you regularly jump out of planes without a parachute.”

“So I really can’t keep him?” Their voice trembled with barely contained tears, Sam’s kryptonite. They clung tightly to Jeff who was now looking at them curiously, concerned whines emanating from him. Fat tears hung to their lashes as their eyes slowly went bloodshot and their chest hiccupped.

“I can barely stand Alpine and I don’t think Jeff would like cats.” They’ll understand logic right? Sam wondered. Y/N’s eyes dropped to the floor, absolutely heartbroken.

And as if summoned, said white cat strolled into the room without a care in the world. “Brrr?” She chirped. Alpine tilted her head at her second favourite person, as if questioning why she hadn’t been picked up yet, like she usually would have when she wandered into Y/N’s room.

Jeff copied her movement as best he could while still being smothered by the teen. Her blue eyes fixed themselves on the shark. With little hesitation, she launched herself up, landing gracefully on Y/N’s opposite shoulder. Sam froze, already coming up with explanations as to why Bucky’s prized cat had been devoured by a ‘land shark’.

But instead of the bloodbath he expected, Alpine nuzzled into his cold skin, the tip of her tail flicking happily. Jeff grinned once more and leaned his head into the cat, accepting the affection.

And when Sam looked back up at Y/N, they were smiling victoriously, all evidence of tears gone from their face. He knew he was screwed.

“Fine, you can keep the damn shark but don’t expect me to look after it. Jeff is your responsibility.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” They bounced around the room, both animals hanging on for dear life. Sam couldn’t help but smile at their pure joy of having a new pet.

“Go on and get some food for him and I’ll bring you to PetSmart tomorrow for more supplies. Also, where did you even find him?"

Y/N shrugged. "Side of the road."

"I'm not even surprised. Alright, go do what you need to do, kid."

“You’re the best! C’mon Jeff, I have to introduce you to Bucky!”

And as they ran out of the room, Sam swore he had never heard a grown man scream that loudly before in his life.

“Is that a fucking shark?!”

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

@alexxavicry

@ravenwings73

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@silverfire475

@psychadelichues

@mvyalx

@km-ffluv

All Marvel

@lokiandbuckysdoll

@andreasworlsboring101

@pretty-npeach

Sam Wilson

@raajali3

@itsbqueenthings

@getoutofthere

929 notes · View notes

dreamtinblackandwhite · 2 months

Text

The Blood in the Truth - Part Two

Part One

Series summary: Y/N is the niece of Alfred Pennyworth and childhood friend to Bruce Wayne. Feeling disappointed with her career, she goes out of her way to investigate the cases nobody else wants to.

Chapter summary: Bruce Wayne struggles to combat his feelings for his best friend and the personality of his secret persona while putting a plan in motion to keep Y/N safe after discovering the secret life she was leading. Y/N discovers a need for Batman she hadn't expected, but she was used to using those needs to distract herself from Bruce.

Note: My brain was moving faster than I could write with this one and I have so many more ideas for the next few parts! Stay tuned! All of your support on both parts One & Two would be greatly appreciated!

Warnings: fight descriptions, swearing, little bit of fluff, little bit of angst, little bit of filler

Word count: 7163

Alfred looked at Bruce. “I don’t care what you have to do,” he stepped towards him. “You keep my niece safe, understood?” Bruce gave one nod in agreement. He knew in his bones that he would never rest until he ensured Y/N would be safe.

Y/N spent the next two weeks huddled away in her small apartment while her injuries healed. She wasn’t in any particular mood to hear her uncles’ opinions about her current condition or why she put herself in the position of getting the injuries. She only needed to go into the office for development once a week anyway and it was always easier to write her articles from the comfort of her couch.

She continued to venture to the Iceberg Lounge on Friday nights, collecting as much information as she could when she was there and adding it to her notes. She wasn’t any closer to finding who was behind the drug, but she’d figured out it was a black powder that was inhaled. It caused hallucinations, body temperature changes, dry mouth, but a sense of calmness and security that was highly addictive.

Bruce had visited her building a few times, never getting the courage to actually knock on the door when he’d come. He ended up having more conversations with Y/N’s elderly neighbor than with Y/N herself. He was careful with the information he’d give the man and only allowed for brief details of the situation and the relationship they shared. “Another evening visit, that’s ten days in a row; she’s really gone and fuzzed your brain up, hasn’t she?” The wrinkled man asked knowingly as he began to bend down for the newspaper on his doormat.

Bruce quickly scooped the paper up and handed it off to him. “Is it that obvious?” He replied with a small laugh. The man leaned one of his shoulders against the doorframe, smiling in a way that made Bruce feel more like a grandson than a stranger.

“I won’t pretend to have a hog-posh of life lessons to teach you, son,” his voice was calm and warm. “And, I won’t pretend I know everything of what is happening here. But, I have lived a life; I have lived a very long and happy life. I have also lived a life with regret, and I have learned that you cannot live a life without it. Before you knock on that door, you need to decide where your regret will sleep. Will you regret never knocking? Will you regret knocking and trying to convince her to stop doing the job she loves? Or, will you regret knocking and just being there for her the way she always has been for you?”

Bruce looked down as he listened to these words and tried again to decide what he’d do. The man didn’t realize Bruce had two lives, two choices, two regrets. If a choice didn’t work as Bruce, he could make a different one as Batman. But, that would be putting Y/N into Batman’s life – would that be a regret he needed to live with? Alfred seemed to think it was a risk worth taking, Batman could take care of the drugs faster than the police, and leave no evidence for Y/N to follow.

“When she moved in, she talked about you, you know?” The man continued, seeing the look of troubled uncertainty on Bruce’s face; Bruce looked up now, intrigued. “She came over to get my recipe for French Onion Soup, said it was her best friends favorite and she wanted to make it for him since he’d been crabby all week.” Bruce smiled crookedly again, looking back at his feet. He remembered the time he spoke of, shortly after Y/N moved back to Gotham and just before he’d developed his Batman persona. He didn’t see her come with it, but she’d put it in the fridge and he ate it every meal for more than a week. He didn’t know it was her that made it until Dory asked him to get the recipe from Y/N since he liked it so much.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, glancing at Y/N’s door. The man nodded and started to retreat back into his own apartment, closing the door slow enough to catch the sounds of Bruce’s knuckles rhythmically knock against Y/N’s door.

Y/N opened the door, pausing when she saw Bruce standing in wait. “Bruce?” She asked, biting her lip nervously. Bruce felt a strange sense of relief seeing her, it was a painful reminder of why he would always need to practice distance with their friendship.

“Hi,” he smiled at her, “would you maybe want to get a drink?” He motioned down the hallway anxiously. Y/N cocked her head at him, she worried what conversation may be waiting for her if she agreed to this. “I won’t give you any grief or guilt about the lounge or the case you’re working,” he reassured. “I just miss my friend and I don’t want this to come between us.” He’d decided where his regret would lay its head to rest the moment she looked into his tired eyes with her perfect ones. He figured he could handle her hating the Batman easier than he could handle her hating Bruce; he didn’t want to live in a world where he wouldn’t get to see her face around the manor for the brief moments he allowed himself.

“Would you settle for cheap wine from the clearance section at the grocery store?” She asked, a small smile playing at her lips. An airy chuckle escaped Bruce’s lungs as he nodded and smiled back at her. She turned her body to beckon him into the small apartment, closing the door behind him. “Red or white?” Y/N asked while Bruce took his shoes and coat off.

“Whatever you already have open,” he said nodding towards the glass that sat next to her laptop on the coffee table.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up and quickly turned away, worried she looked like an idiot. “Red it is, then,” she mused as she poured him a glass. Bruce scanned over the notes that were sprawled out on her coffee table – all about the drug case. Y/N started to pack it all away after handing him his glass.

Bruce cleared his throat, “I probably can only stay for one. It’s getting late.” He looked out the large balcony windows of her apartment and noted just how close the sun was from being swallowed by the horizon.

“Makes sense,” Y/N agreed as the pair settled comfortably onto the small couch so they would face each other.

“Looks like those stitches are healing nicely,” Bruce said, nodding towards her forehead. “Anything else hurting too much still?”

Y/N shook her head as she took a sip of her wine, “no, nothing too terrible. You should see the other guy though, he won’t even look at me in the club now.”

Bruce laughed, “that doesn’t surprise me.” Y/N shot him a playful glare. “What? I know how scary you get when you’re mad; remember when Johnny Bickle beat you in debate club in Middle School? You superglued his hands to his textbooks.”

“Hey!” Y/N whined, “his dad was a judge! It was 100% rigged!”

“And that justifies gluing the poor kid’s hands to his textbooks?” Bruce chortled, “you were suspended for two weeks!”

Y/N buried her face in her hands as she laughed at the memory. “Oh my gosh, I was diabolical back then,” she grumbled as she peaked through her fingers to see Bruce’s smiling face. She took this moment, while he was still laughing to memorize the sound. It’d been so long since they were able to have a 1:1 conversation that had any sort of laughter to it that she’d nearly forgotten what the sound did to her heartrate.

“You still are,” Bruce confirmed, taking a sip from his glass. They fell into a comfortable silence, still grinning at each other.

“I hope Alfred didn’t give you too much grief for me skipping Wednesday dinners these past two weeks,” Y/N apologized, frowning slightly.

Bruce shook his head, brushing her off with a hand wave. “I won’t lie, he was hurt you didn’t come over. You’re lucky, I don’t think he’s told your dad yet.” Y/N laughed and nodded as she ran a hand anxiously through her hair; Bruce found himself mesmerized by the way the lamp light would catch the different shades and tones as she moved. “He’s just worried about you, Y/N. I am too,” he finished after forcing himself to look into his glass instead of at her hair.

“You said you wouldn’t give me grief or guilt,” Y/N pointed out, Bruce chuckled softly.

“It is just facts,” he corrected. “You don’t understand how terrifying it was seeing you like that…” He was nearly whispering now as he recalled the tight feeling in his chest. “I can’t lose you too, Y/N.”

Y/N leaned forward and set a careful hand on his forearm, “you aren’t going to lose me, Bruce.” He looked back at her, slightly shocked at how close her face had gotten from this exchange. They examined each other’s eyes for a moment, both speaking thousands of unsaid words and wishing the other one would hear them.

Bruce cleared his throat and leaned back against the armrest, breaking their contact. “As long as you promise to be safe,” he finally croaked. Y/N blushed heavily and quickly downed the rest of her wine with a nod.

“I swear I am being safe,” she reassured. Bruce finished the rest of his wine in a quick swig before setting it on the coffee table. He stared at her as she nervously looked back, trying to convince himself to stay for another drink. But the sounds of the city distracted him, or at least they distracted Batman. He could hear soft gun shots, police sirens, drunken laughter; from the safety of Y/N’s apartment he had no idea what was happening as the nightlife of Gotham woke up.

“I should…” his voice trailed off as he started to stand up. Y/N followed, looking down to hide her frown. Without looking at each other, they both reached to grab the empty glass on the table. It was very much a movie moment, their finger tips bumping into each other. “Sorry,” Bruce whispered, moving his hand away quickly; he could feel a pressure in his chest as his heart seemed to reach for her.

“No worries,” she forced a smile at him before grabbing the glass and going to the kitchen while Bruce put his shoes and coat back on. “Drive safe, don’t let any drop heads get to you,” she teased, trying to lighten the tension that laid across the room.

Bruce scoffed slightly, hiding his knowing smirk; little did Y/N know just how many drop heads Bruce would interact with tonight. “Of course,” he agreed, turning towards her now. He swallowed his courage, he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to let himself see her like this again. He quickly opened his arms to her and cocked his head with a cheeky smile. Y/N laughed softly before walking into his open embrace.

She leaned her head against his chest, enjoying the thump of his heart in her ear while snaking her arms around his torso. He protectively wrapped his arms around her shoulders, leaning his head down slightly to rest his nose and lips on her hair. He squeezed his eyes shut as her perfume and shampoo invaded his senses, he memorized the scent months ago but welcomed the refresher happily.

Bruce broke away first, telling himself if he didn’t he would never be able to. Y/N felt the coldness wash through her body from the loss of his heat but forced a smile at him as she reached forward to unlock the door. “Tell Alfred that I will come to dinner on Wednesday with French Onion Soup if he promises to not make a huge deal about the lounge,” she requested.

Bruce nodded as he stepped out of the apartment into the dimly lit hallway, “I will see what I can do. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Have a good night, Bruce,” Y/N echoed before slowly closing the door and leaning back against it with a sigh. She tried to focus on other things for the rest of the night; her work articles, editing her photos, studying the drug case. No matter what she did, her mind always found its way back to Bruce. Bruce’s smile, Bruce’s laugh, Bruce’s arms, the way he cared… it was all so frustratingly perfect to her even after her years of practice with ignoring it.

Bruce was in a similar position; so much so that he moved his plans for introducing Y/N and Batman into action before he even considered the outcomes. He sat in his normal perch on the building across from Y/N’s apartment and tried to think of a way to get her out so Batman could make his introductions. He was considering pulling the fire alarm, or maybe causing a blackout, when Y/N walked out onto her balcony to get some air.

Batman saw his opportunity, she was almost making it too easy. He used his grapple to get from his building to hers before scaling the bricks and landing silently behind her on the balcony. “Y/N Pennyworth,” he again forced his voice lower and deeper. Y/N turned quickly, instinctively punching her right hand towards the face of the unexpected visitor.

Batman was quick to react and blocked her punch with his forearm; Y/N countered with a swift left hook to his jaw. He grunted from the blow before quickly twisting her right arm behind her back, stopping when he was dangerously close to dislocating it all while turning her and pulling her firmly against his chest. He wrapped his free arm securely around her waist so she couldn’t move her torso more than a centimeter.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled, if she fought anymore she’d end up with an injured arm. He smirked ever so slightly, it’d been awhile since the pair had fought each other. “How the hell did you find me?” She spat, looking over her shoulder at him now. Thanks to their height difference, he was looking down on her in this position, but she was close enough now to trace her eyes over his sharp jawline and the deep blue eyes the bore into her.

“You are a photo journalist at The Gotham Times, but you work at the Iceberg Lounge under the name Lucy – why?” He continued, ignoring her question. “If you play nice, I will let you go,” he lowered his voice into a whisper as he leaned just slightly closer to her ear. He felt a strange confidence with her like this; it was the mask – it was always the mask. Batman was able to do and say more than Bruce was; he enjoyed that now as he soaked up the feeling of Y/N’s body against his, this embrace was very different than the one they shared not more than an hour ago.

There was a strange tension that struck between the pair, especially as he held her still. Y/N felt her cheeks warm up as his breath hit her neck. For most of her life, she’d only ever fought with Bruce. She didn’t need to bring out these skills very often; even with the men at the lounge, they were always easily subdued with just a few punches if necessary. But now, here she was in a compromising position with a mysterious stranger and she felt that same rush of desire she’d feel when fighting with Bruce.

Maybe her parents were right; she did flirt with danger. With Bruce, it was always flirting with the danger of ruining their friendship. Now, it was flirting with the danger of a literal masked vigilante. She would need to give therapy a try.

Y/N tried again to move but he was holding her so tightly that even her small wiggle hurt. “Do you always sneak up on the people you save?” She grumbled, before swiping her foot back, catching his leg to force him to let go and stumble backwards as he stopped himself from falling. She turned around to look at him, putting her fists up in case he wasn’t done fighting.

Batman smirked at her as he lifted his hands up into the air to indicate his surrender. He should have seen that coming, she always relied on her legs in a fight. “I asked you a question. I assume it’s not for money,” he motioned to the apartment behind her; it was small but technically luxury for the city. “What is it then? Sex?” He didn’t enjoy talking to her like this but he was trying to lead the conversation in the direction he needed.

Y/N scoffed at his assumption, but that is what most people assumed about the girls who worked at the Iceberg Lounge. “Working at the lounge offers an interesting perspective,” she explained, relaxing her muscles. “It helps when you’re doing a little investigating.”

“What are you investigating then?” Batman pushed, she was close to saying what he needed her to. Y/N stared at him for a moment before she decided it wasn’t so crazy for him to have gotten so much information on her; to do what he did you’d have to be good at finding secrets out.

“There’s a new drug that I think is being distributed to target people,” Y/N finally admitted, “there have been at least 26 deaths connected to it. Each one homeless, a Doe, found in abandon buildings or by the sea wall. They all had blood coming from their eyes, nose, ears and mouth; 3rd degree burns in their mouths; but for all of them the final cause of death was asphyxiation from their throats closing.”

“That doesn’t sound like something working at the lounge would offer much insight on,” Batman mused, stepping slightly closer to her in an attempt to make her feel relaxed. Y/N felt a strange sense of calmness around him the made her feel safe, made her trust him – maybe it was muscle memory of when he had saved her at the pier.

“I’ve gotten some from the off-duty cops that come through, but the majority of the information comes from the underground club,” Y/N explains. Batman straightens up, this new information intriguing him. “There’s a group of high-profile dealers that are there nearly every night, I heard them talking about some deal this past weekend. They seem tense about it, more so than normal.”

“And you think it’s connected to this new drug?” Batman confirmed, Y/N nodded in response. “I will take over from here; do not go to the lounge anymore, it’s too dangerous.”

Y/N scoffed, “just because you parade around in a fancy armored suit doesn’t mean you get to give orders to people.” Batman closed his eyes, hiding his eye roll from her. “I have been watching this for months, you just found out about it tonight.”

A frustrated groan escaped from Batman’s lips. “You don’t have any concrete evidence; just because they have similar symptoms and cause of death doesn’t mean it’s being targeted. Hundreds of the homeless population of Gotham are on different types of drugs; you are making assumptions.”

“Investigative journalists make assumptions every day,” Y/N defended with her own frustrated groan.

“You are just a photo journalist!” Bruce winced at his words as soon as they left his mouth; he couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this but there was no going back now. This was why he decided to leave his regrets with the Batman. Batman could hurt her, Bruce would never. “Leave the investigating to the real journalists.” He tried not to look at her face now, afraid to see what his words did to her. Coward, he thought before forcing himself to look into her eyes. Her soft features contorted from the harshness of his words, pain painted every inch of her expression.

“Real journalists?” Y/N scoffed, feeling tears sting at her eyes. “I think you should leave, Bat-boy,” she hissed before abruptly pushing past him and back into her apartment with a door slam. Bruce didn’t waste time on the balcony, he left as soon as she did and went directly to the tower that housed the Bat Symbol. Lt. James Gordon would see the light and come, just as he always did when Batman needed something.

Within fifteen minutes, Batman heard the metal scraping of the elevator behind him. He didn’t turn to see who it was, he only tossed a side eye over his shoulder to confirm it was Gordon before looking back out at the city. “What can I do you for?” Gordon asks awkwardly as he tentatively approaches the caped man. Even after a year of this partnership they’d developed, he still had no idea how to talk to the man.

“I need information on a new drug,” Batman informed with a coarse voice. Gordon pulled out his small notebook before nodding at him to continue. Batman explained the drug, and the slew of Doe victims that it seemed to be connected to, turning to look at Gordon now as he did.

“Hmm…” Gordon mused with pursed lips. “I haven’t heard of any sort of drug like this, man.”

Bruce felt both anxiety and discouragement ripple through him. If Gordon didn’t know about this already, that meant one of two things: either Y/N really was wrong and the string of deaths weren’t connected at all; or she is right and there is powerful hand digging deep enough to affect the police department. Either way, he still needed to find a way to disconnect her from the case after he got more information. “Just,” he grumbled finally. “Look into it.” After a final nod from Gordon, Batman was off to finally start his grid hours later than he should have.

It was another three days before they saw each other again. Y/N had been so angry after her interaction with Batman that she nearly forgot about her promise to see her uncle for dinner. She gathered her supplies for French onion soup and made her way to the manor by taxi this time.

As she entered through the kitchen, she felt slightly anxious. There was no guarantee that Bruce would have gotten through to Alfred on if he would give her much grief tonight for the lounge and she wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “Alfie?” She called out as she started to unpack the groceries.

Bruce quickly walked from his room to the top of the staircase to shoot a glare down at Alfred, who grumbled with annoyance as he swatted a hand at the boy. Bruce wouldn’t join dinner tonight; if he was going to keep his courage to be harsh towards her as Batman, he couldn’t allow himself any extra time with Y/N as Bruce.

Alfred walked into the kitchen with a stone look on his face. Y/N sighed seeing him, “if you’re just going to be crabby about everything, I can leave.”

“No,” Alfred quickly countered. What Y/N didn’t know was that Bruce and Alfred had spent all day combing through the case files Gordon had gotten his hands on; she was right. There were obvious inconsistencies, falsified information, and general empty holes in every report. It was enough evidence to distract Alfred from his anger for the time beign. “I won’t berate you on it any longer, I know that it won’t change your mind on things. However, if you end up having any other injuries, I will tell your parents.” Y/N nodded, agreeing mostly only so he wouldn’t talk about it anymore.

They quickly relaxed into their normal conversations as Y/N cooked, Alfred got her a glass of wine to sip while she did. “Where’s Bruce? I’m making his favorite.”

Alfred hid his frown; although Bruce would never admit his feelings to Alfred, he knew. He’d seen the love they share for each other first hand and it pained him that both were so stubborn. “He’ll eat later, he’s working on some things right now.” Y/N nodded, knowing better than to push the subject.

The pair at in the living room, having the news on as background noise as their conversation continued. Bruce finally allowed himself to leave his room, it was like seeing her face was an addiction and he needed a fix. He stared at her as he walked down the stairs until her eyes flicked to him, he quickly looked away without a word or resemblance of a smile.

He wasn’t even planning on stopping until he heard the news report of the Batman’s recent “heroics”. It was Y/N’s scoff as she turned her attention towards it and angrily turned the TV off that had froze him in place. “What is it?” Alfred asked, noting her annoyed expression.

“Gotham just puts too much faith in Batman,” Y/N grumbled in response. “He’s not all that they praise him to be.”

“You know him?” Alfred asked cautiously as he shared a knowing look with Bruce. This would be the test to see if Y/N had any inkling of who the man under the mask was.

“No,” Y/N sighed as she gathered the dirty dishes in front of her for a distraction. “He found out that I work at the lounge. Let’s just say he wasn’t pleased, for some reason…” Her voice trailed off as she started to stand up. Bruce quickly darted towards the kitchen, not wanting her to know he was listening all along. He was scooping himself a bowl of the soup when she walked in. “Finally left your cave then?”

Bruce bit back the smirk that played on his lips, she didn’t know he actually had a cave. He barely glanced at her, just picked up a spoon, grunted a hello, and left the room as quickly as he came in; leaving Y/N behind him with a confused frown on her face.

That Friday, Y/N was getting ready for a date she was dreading. Detective Sam Benson had taken her out a few times over the past month and now had invited her as his plus one to the Gotham City Police Fundraiser. She also had a shift at the Iceberg Lounge afterwards that she wasn’t particularly looking forward to following her conversation with the Batman that had left her insecure about her work.

She had chosen a tight nude dress that had a lace overlay of red and pink florals. It was a deep v-neckline that showed her breasts off perfectly; it clung to her hips and thighs before tapering into a subtle skirted-ruffle at her knee which ended halfway down her shin. She wore her hair in soft waves but kept her face framing pieces slicked back behind her ears. Y/N gave herself one last nod of approval after strapping into her nude heels before tossing a long black coat on and tying off the front of it, affectively hiding her body and dress.

Bruce had decided, against Alfred’s wishes, that he needed to try and get information from Y/N on the case. He had to know what other evidence she already had if he wanted to get this drug off the streets before Y/N put herself in further danger. He showed up at her building as her elderly neighbor was walking up the stairs with two arms full of grocery bags. “Ah, I wondered if I would see you around here again,” he mused as Bruce swiftly took the bags from him so he could rely on his cane to get up the stairs.

Bruce chuckled softly but didn’t say anything in response; he walked slowly with the man as they ascended to the 3rd floor. “How do I know if I made the right choice?” He finally asked quietly as the man fumbled for his keys.

“You won’t,” the man replied, as he pulled the bundle of keys from his pocket. “You won’t until you do. It’s a gamble, it’s always a gamble.” Bruce grimaced at him slightly before freezing as he heard Y/N’s door open.

“Bruce?” She asked, confused as she locked the door behind her. “Chester, is this man bothering you?” She teased with a wink, Bruce looked down – he didn’t realize that he never asked this man his name.

“Not at all!” Chester grinned at her, taking the bags one by one from Bruce and setting it just inside his doorway. “Are you kids off for a fun date night, then?”

“No,” both Bruce and Y/N said simultaneously. Bruce looked at her with a chuckle while she blushed with wide eyes.

“I was coming to see if you wanted to hang out, but…” his voice trailed off, noting the way she’d done her hair and makeup.

“I’m going to the fundraising event for the police department,” Y/N finished for him, sticking her bottom lip with her teeth gently; she would much rather spend her night with Bruce than Sam. As if on cue, her phone pinged in her hand: I am here. Come down, doll.

“And that is my ride,” she sighed, looking back to the men in front of her. “Next time, Bruce?” He nodded at her in agreement. “Don’t wait up, Chester,” she winked before quickly turning to leave towards the stairs.

Bruce looked back at Chester. “Pretty sure I chose wrong,” he grumbled.

Chester chuckled and shook his head, “you won’t know until you know.” He winked before waving goodbye and heading into his own apartment.

Bruce told himself he was doing this to make sure Y/N was safe, because he knew there was something shady happening in the police department, because he promised Alfred he’d keep her safe. But, as he put his nicest suit on and fixed his hair, he could feel himself hoping for more. Maybe he’d turn on his long-dormant Bruce Wayne charm and ask Y/N for a dance… he shook the thought from his head – this is to protect her.

Sam had abandoned Y/N within twenty minutes at the fundraiser, apologizing and saying he needed to greet some people and it wouldn’t be appropriate to introduce her yet. She didn’t take offense to it, she just stood near the edge of the room and sipped the warm champagne that was being trayed around as she people watched. She was used to being on the sidelines at these things after attending so many with Bruce when he took the company over.

She looked at the bar, wishing she hadn’t left her purse with her coat when she checked it with valet so she could have bought her own drink rather than what was free. She couldn’t take her eyes off the back that faced her from the bar, was that? Surely it wasn’t… she scoffed softly to herself.

Y/N walked towards the bar, weaving through the random clusters of people blocking her way. “What are the chances that Bruce Wayne’s first public appearance in months happens to be at the event I told him about not more than an hour ago?” She teased as she sipped her champagne.

Bruce turned to look at her, a sideways smile spreading over his face. He took a moment to draw his eyes over her up close now; the way her dress hugged her, the way her lips appealed to him with that lipstick color, the way her eye color exploded with her careful makeup. He felt his heart thumping in his chest, he’d need to avoid her for weeks after this. He clenched his fists at his side to stop himself for touching her.

“Well, my social calendar is managed by your over-protective uncle… so when I came back earlier than he expected and told him you’d be here…” Bruce lied, forcing a charming smile on his face.

Y/N laughed softly and took another sip of her drink. “I imagine he didn’t give you much of a choice,” she replied. Bruce shrugged in response, swimming in the sound of her honey-like laughter.

“Mr. Wayne,” the bartender said as he set two drinks down in front of them.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped slightly as a blush fluttered on her cheeks. “You’re with someone?”

Bruce nervously chuckled before taking the champagne out of her hand and replacing it with one of the drinks he ordered, a gin and tonic. “No,” he corrected, “but you hate champagne.” Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek at the action and offered him a thankful smile before the pair moved to get out of the way of the bar. “No camera tonight? Did your boss finally see that your talent stems beyond the gossip of Gotham?” Bruce complimented, trying to make up for the words he’d said to her with the mask on. “If you need a quote, I’m happy to break my silence for you.”

“No, but you can’t take that back now. I expect your first quote to the media to come directly to me,” Y/N eyed him with a smirk, he laughed softly and nodded as he gulped his scotch. “I am not here as a reporter tonight, I am actually here with someone.” She tried to keep the smile on her face but found it difficult to be excited about Sam.

Bruce didn’t miss the faulter on the corner of her lips, but he glanced around the room. Who would be stupid enough to leave Y/N standing alone in the corner of the room when she looked like this? His mind ran through the names of each eligible and non-eligible bachelor in Gotham, creating a mental hate list of each one he thought Y/N may go for. “And here he comes,” Y/N’s sigh had the smallest tinge of disappointment.

“Doll! I’ve been looking for you!” Sam exclaimed as he walked over to them, barely glancing at Bruce. “There are some people I want you to me—” confusion covered his face when he looked to Bruce; he quickly clung to Y/N’s hand possessively. “Wayne.”

“Uhm, Bruce, this is Sam Benson,” Y/N introduced awkwardly.

“Detective Sam Benson,” Sam corrected shooting a smile at Y/N who simply nodded an apology in response.

“And Sam, this is Bruce Wayne,” she finished. The two men begrudgingly shook hands, Y/N knew it was only for her benefit. Bruce didn’t offer more than a grunt of a hello. This was who she was dating? “Bruce and I grew up together until my family moved out of Gotham.”

“I see,” Sam hummed, looking back at Y/N. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Wayne. Y/N, I want you to meet some of my buddies from college and their wives…” His voice trailed off as he tugged Y/N forward, she glanced over her shoulder at Bruce and mouthed an apology as she stumbled slightly to follow.

Bruce kept his distance, he didn’t want to intrude on the night Y/N was having and, unfortunately, he did have to play the Bruce Wayne roll since he decided to come out; he chatted with city and state officials, he signed a few autographs, took a few photos, and donated a significantly sized check to the department. But through it all, he made sure that Y/N would always be in his field of vision.

It was just after 10pm when he watched her leave the large ballroom. After he was able to excuse himself from the conversation he had been trapped in, he found her waiting for a taxi by the curb. “Did something happen?” He asked as he walked up behind her, worried that maybe Sam had done something that he missed.

“What?” She asked, turning towards the sound. “Oh- Bruce,” he loved how she sighed his name when she was relieved it was only him. “No, nothing happened, I just need to get home. I’m running late.”

“Running late?” Bruce laughed softly, “it’s barely past 10pm, what could you be late for?” Y/N stuttered slightly, a flustered blush blooming on her cheeks. She didn’t know if she should tell him the truth or not, even though he knew about the lounge she knew he didn’t like it. Bruce took a deep breath as he realized what got her so flustered. “You’re working the lounge tonight?”

“Shh, Bruce,” she hushed, stepping closer and looking at the people around them who could have heard. A taxi pulled up near them and Bruce, reminding himself to let the regret stay with Batman, stepped forward and opened the back door for her.

“Just, be safe?” He urged, she smiled at him and nodded as she stepped towards the vehicle. She placed a gentle kiss to his cheek before she was gone.

Batman made it to the cave, got into his suit, and was idling in the shadows next to the Iceberg Lounge all before Y/N arrived for work. He glanced nervously at the stack of case files on the passenger seat next to him, showing them to Y/N as Bruce was risk enough – this was a gamble. He had no idea how she’d react to seeing him, much less if she’d cooperate and help him with the case.

A taxi pulled up, Batman watched to confirm that it was Y/N before getting out of his Batmobile as she walked unknowingly towards him. “Y/N” he greeted in a low voice as he stepped far enough forward for his masked face to be contoured by the neon signs from the street ahead of them.

Y/N didn’t give it a second thought when she heard his familiar voice. She sent a round of rotating upper-kicks towards his face, forcing him to back away as he blocked them with his forearms. He quickly lunged at her, attempting to get a hold of her again but she shrunk to the ground, expecting it this time. Just as he was expecting her to swipe at his feet to make him lose balance, which he dodged.

She knew her fists would do nothing to his thick-suited chest, so she stuck to her legs. She laid a series of blows to his chest and abdomen, successfully winding him and getting a pained grunt before she set her right fist towards his jaw. He skillfully caught her wrist with his hand before she made contact and pulled her towards him, spinning them around so she was pinned under him with her back pressed against the wet hood of his Batmobile.

Batman stared down into Y/N’s eyes, waiting for her to give up the fight. He’d be lying if he hadn’t imagined this situation a few times through the lonely months down in his cave. It had a different beginning, and a very different ending that what today would be having. But still, the idea of Y/N pinned to the hood of this car had crossed his mind on occasion.

Y/N finally huffed out in defeat as she glared up at him. “Does everything need to be a struggle with you?” His hushed voice was gruff; Y/N felt goosebumps flutter across her skin at the sound combined with the feeling of his hot breath against her cold cheeks. She wiggled under his body again, trying to gain some sort of composure.

“Get off of me, asshole,” she hissed. Batman slowly stood up, letting her go as he did. She didn’t fight after he released her, deciding to just sit on the hood of the vehicle and glare at him with her arms crossed. “Following me again?”

“I have something for you,” Batman sighed, walking around the vehicle and grabbing the stack of files from the passenger seat. He nearly chickened out right there, he was pulling her in closer to the case by giving her this – the opposite effect he was trying to have. He handed them to her, watching a soft ‘v’ form between her eyebrows as she flicked through some of the files.

“Are these all…?” She trailed off, looking at the masked man as she stood up straight now.

He nodded, “this year alone, we’re looking at about 70 deaths. Someone on the inside is hiding it so that nobody else sees the pattern too.” Y/N bit her lip nervously, flipping open the first file and reading the top page of it.

“This is missing multiple steps of required documentation,” she noted in a frustrated tone.

“That’s what I said too,” Batman laughed softly. “Do you recognize any of the cops on file?”

Y/N quickly fingered through the stack again. “A few of them,” she confirmed, “Andy Sadder – he comes to the lounge sometimes, he may even be here tonight. I could see if I could get close to hi—”

“No,” Bruce interrupted, groaning at his own sudden urgency. “I told you, it’s too dangerous.”

“Then why even show me these?” Y/N scoffed, “do you have a different plan on how you will get in there for first hand information?” He stared back at her for a long moment, trying to stop the calculated plan from forming in his mind. This was frustrating; feeling the urge to help and investigate this as Batman but also needing to separate Y/N from it as Bruce.

“Fine,” he finally agreed, “but you’re not going in alone.”

“I think it’ll look suspicious if a 6-foot man dressed in a black leather suit and cape is following me around while I try to get off-duty cops drunk enough to spill their secrets…” Y/N joked slightly, feeling more at ease after hearing him agree with her.

Batman dipped his torso into his vehicle and grabbed a small box that held a spare contact lens and earpiece for if his gets damaged. He handed it off to Y/N, she looked at it confused. “I will be right there with you, seeing and hearing everything that happens,” he explained. He knew Alfred would not be happy about this but it was the only way Bruce would be able to confirm her safety at all times. He had to try.

“Why can’t you just let it go?” Y/N asked with an eyeroll as she begrudgingly added the set to her ear and eye.

“I don’t know,” Bruce mumbled, watching the screens from in his vehicle change point of view to her new lens before cutting out to static. He stepped closer to her and tipped her chin up with his gloved fingertips. Y/N, seeing his eyes clearer now, felt a heat rush through her chest. Their bodies were close enough that she could see the slight stubble on his cheeks and jaw and watched his tongue dart out to wet his chapped lips. “Blink,” he ordered in a whisper. She gulped and pushed the confused thoughts out of her head before rapidly blinking until she felt the contact slip back into place.

She forced herself to step backwards as she cleared her throat before turning and walking through the employee door into the lounge. “I’m right here,” the voice in her ear brought goosebumps across her skin and the heat went from her chest and found its way between her thighs.

Fuck, she thought, I can't want him...

taglist: @jinxed-jk

message me to be added to the taglist!

#battinson #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #battinson fanfiction #battinson x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #robert pattinson au #robert pattinson x yn #batman x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman #blood in the truth

75 notes · View notes