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hollandorks · 1 year

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shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

epilogue

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: I literally can’t believe this story is over. I started writing MOTN in March this year, and it has been with me ever since. Almost 9 months straight of MOTN and Battinson. I’m so thankful for this story and the community it brought me and how much fun it’s been over the course of these months! I could write an entire essay on what it means to me and about the people this story brought into my life, but I’ll keep it short and sweet for now.

I’d like to note that I kept this short on purpose--it’s just a glimpse into their future, and I didn’t want to bog it down with too many details. However, I do plan on including at least one more oneshot (maybe more).

(PS: @captain-ariel-rogers you’re welcome)

Series Masterlist

word count: 2807

Every tragedy in his life had led him there, to a home full of love and laughter, even amidst the shadows that came in the night.

The wind on top of the signal tower was unforgiving as Bruce waited next to the spotlight. It was March already, but winter had refused to release its claws from Gotham.

Things in the city had changed, and not all for the good. Not all for the bad, either.

Bella Reál had proven herself time and again to be a more than capable mayor. She thrived in the chaos, in the uncertainty, and had whipped Gotham into shape so quickly it had made Bruce’s head spin. Despite all of the crime, despite how many nights his signal shone in the dark, the new mayor had wrestled control of the city back into the hands of the good.

The trial had started in December as planned, despite the flooding and the wreckage of the city, mostly due to Bella Reál’s firm hand. It had taken weeks, draining them all, but in the end every single man had been convicted on multiple counts and been sent to prison for decades if not the rest of their lives.

For a while, as y/n was forced to relive her trauma on the stand, she had become a shell of herself. She had been withdrawn and quiet throughout the ordeal, the weight of the world holding her down despite Bruce and Alfred and even Gordon doing their best to share her burden. Her nightmares had worsened and Bruce had forced himself to come home earlier and earlier each night simply to be there for her.

But the closer the trial got to its end, the more fiery she became. Her shoulders had straightened and she had thrown herself into rebuilding not only the Gotham Project, but the Renewal Fund as well, and even several other smaller projects that went hand in hand with helping the city.

And she had planned their wedding. She wanted to get it done right, as Bruce had requested, but she also didn’t want to wait.

He was, to put it plainly, in awe of her.

And now, as March started to draw to a close, still wrapped in an unseasonably late winter, their wedding day loomed.

Bruce wasn’t sure what he was more nervous for–the meeting he was about to have with the newly appointed Commissioner Gordon, or the wedding day itself.

He fiddled with a hair tie he kept looped on his utility belt, a habit he had developed in the past year and a half.

It wasn’t too long before the elevator in the tower started rattling its way upwards.

Bruce inhaled sharply and fought against nervously tapping his foot or pacing back and forth. He forced himself into stillness as the doors slid open and Gordon stepped out. The man cursed and burrowed more deeply into his coat.

“Couldn’t we have done this inside?” Gordon called out.

“Light’s warm,” he said softly. It was true–the giant spotlight radiated warmth, more and more the longer it was on. Gordon shivered as he came to a stop next to Bruce. He rubbed his hands together to warm them. Bruce was glad for his own gloves, a newer pair that y/n had made him get that were thicker and lined with fleece. She’d forced him to winter proof his suit, for which he was grateful even if he had grumbled about it at the time.

“Been a while,” Gordon said as they both looked out over the city. It had been a while–things had died down over the past several weeks to the point where the signal was rarely needed. Bruce mostly patrolled on his own and used police scanners to find out where he was needed. “How you been, man?”

Bruce almost frowned. He didn’t realize that they made small talk now. “Fine,” he said.

“Good, good.” Gordon rubbed his hands together again almost absently, then glanced up at Bruce. “So, what have you got for me?”

Bruce couldn’t help shifting slightly from foot to foot. He hoped Gordon didn’t notice. But he was a good detective, a good cop–he likely did notice even if he was pretending otherwise.

Finally, Bruce said, voice gruff and nonchalant, “I have to…step back for a couple of weeks. I wanted you to know, in case you needed me and I didn’t show.”

He’d wavered back and forth, over and over again, between telling Gordon he was leaving and simply disappearing. But he cared for the city too much and had eventually decided that he couldn’t leave without telling someone. Y/n had agreed that Gordon was the best choice–he was trustworthy and likely wouldn’t press for information.

“I figured as much,” Gordon said. Bruce’s eyebrows drew together behind his mask. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll look out for things here, even turn the light on and off and spread some rumors. Make it seem like you’re still around.”

Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Why?” he said, the only question he could come up with that wouldn’t sound suspicious.

Gordon gave him a sly look then shrugged. “I want you to enjoy your honeymoon.”

The world fell away from Bruce’s feet. How could Gordon possibly know that was Bruce’s reason for leaving? He had no idea who Bruce was. Or at least, he shouldn’t.

“Wh-what?” Bruce said. He silently cursed the stammer in his voice that likely gave it all away. His heart thundered in his ears. Everything went utterly quiet in his mind, every thought wiped out by a wave of pure shock.

Gordon spread his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, man, if you were getting married this weekend and if you were about to go on your honeymoon, I don’t want you worrying about the city. I can take care of things for a couple of weeks.”

Bruce struggled to remain still, to control his breathing, to reign in the panic building in his chest. It was as if he’d just taken a dive over the side of the tower, the world rushing past him as his stomach swooped up towards his throat and his heart pounded with fear and adrenaline.

All the while, Gordon simply stared out at the skyline of Gotham all around them, his breath fogging in front of him as he breathed deeply and evenly.

Bruce silently warred with himself. Did Gordon actually know, or was he guessing? A cold sweat started at his spine and worked its way upwards.

But then he thought back to all the small interactions he’d had with Gordon, especially the ones where y/n had been around. The looks Gordon sometimes gave them, the small comments here and there. Gordon had even joked about y/n being taken and Batman having feelings for her, more than once.

Gordon knew.

Gordon had known for a while.

“How?” Bruce said after a long silence had stretched and warped between them. How did Gordon know, how was he sure, how long ago had he figured it out? That one word encapsulated everything Bruce wanted to ask.

“The gala,” Gordon said, which was the exact opposite answer of what Bruce had anticipated. “Your butler was there. She told the two of you to go home and, well…wasn’t hard to connect the dots after that. Especially with the way you looked at her. You tried to hide it, but…” Gordon chuckled.

Bruce swallowed hard. The roaring had quieted in his ears, but he still felt panicked, unsure. He had always known his feelings for y/n would be what led someone to connect his identity to Batman. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Gordon finally turned to face him. His expression was light, almost amused. “No offense, but I don’t really care who you are.” He shrugged. “You and me, we have the same goals. We want to keep the city safe. It doesn’t matter to me who you are. It never mattered to me.”

Bruce felt something odd in his chest at the words. He opened and closed his mouth several times.

Gordon had known for a year and a half and had never said anything. Had never cared.

“Like I said, man–enjoy your honeymoon.” Gordon winked, slapped him on the back, and left without another word.

Bruce could only stare after him, utterly stunned.

Finally, when he was so cold it hurt, he flipped off the light and left.

His thoughts churned all the way home. He couldn’t get past it–Gordon had known this whole time. He had never revealed Bruce’s secret, had never even gotten close, not even to Bruce himself.

Another person in his life that he didn’t deserve. Gordon had been a truer friend than he had ever realized.

Bruce changed in the abandoned subway station, shivering from the cold. It was later than he’d thought. He’d been frozen–literally and figuratively–atop the tower for much longer than he’d planned to be.

Upstairs, he found Alfred asleep on the couch, the cat Vinny curled up on his lap. Bruce smiled to himself. The butler always acted like he didn’t like the cat, who was now twice as big and twice as fluffy as he’d been when Selina had dropped him off. But toys always mysteriously showed up for the cat, ones that Bruce certainly hadn’t purchased and y/n swore she hadn’t gotten either.

Bruce quietly turned off the lamp and left them to sleep before turning towards his room.

That last little bit of anxiety finally melted from his chest.

The city was in Gordon’s capable hands. He knew he didn’t have to worry while he was gone. And as an added bonus, he didn’t even have to worry about anyone connecting the absence of Batman with Bruce Wayne’s absence. Gordon had taken care of that, too.

Bruce slid into bed next to y/n and sighed as she immediately curled up close to him.

He couldn’t wait for her to be his wife.

–

“Stop fidgeting,” Alfred murmured as he fixed Bruce’s bowtie. “You’ve no reason to be nervous.”

Easy for Alfred to say, Bruce thought a bit bitterly. Bruce hated having the spotlight on him. There were so many ways he could mess things up. And he didn’t want to mess a single thing up–he wanted it all to go perfectly.

“It’s y/n,” Alfred said as he smoothed the bowtie into place again. “Just you and her. No one else.”

And somehow, the words worked.

It’s just y/n, Bruce repeated silently to himself. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her warm hand in his, that little furrow between her eyebrows when she was concentrating. His nerves ebbed and settled. They were still present, but they were no longer choking him.

“Alright,” Alfred said as he stepped back. “That’s your cue, my boy.”

“Right,” Bruce said. The music had indeed shifted. He was supposed to go out to the altar. They’d practiced it the night before and everything.

“Now I have to go get the bride,” Alfred said with a wink.

Bruce swallowed and nodded. He made to step away, to go take his place, but Alfred caught him by the arm.

“I know neither of us are much for words,” Alfred said. He swallowed hard. Were those…tears in his eyes? Bruce was suddenly nervous again for a completely different reason. “But I love you like my own. You and y/n both.”

Bruce nodded because the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him speak. “I love you, too,” he finally managed, barely a whisper.

Alfred hugged him quickly, then shoved him none too gently towards the door.

“See you soon,” Alfred said with a watery smile.

And then Bruce was standing in front of the crowd, palms sweating, all alone except for the woman who would be officiating. He saw Gordon in a smart suit, his wife at his side. There were Bryn and Ollie, sitting with Lena and her son. The lone reporter they had invited to document the event with several incredibly thorough contracts. Bruce’s old housekeeper, Dory, whom y/n had replaced when she’d retired. Even Selina was there, dressed in black and sitting near the back. She caught his eye and winked.

It wasn’t really a crowd, only their closest friends and acquaintances. But it felt like hundreds of people to Bruce.

His only stipulation, besides doing the wedding the right way, was to get married in the same church where his parents had gotten married. He’d worried y/n would be disappointed, that it wouldn’t fit with her vision of the wedding, but she’d been enthusiastic about the idea.

His parents and her mother also had seats reserved for them, and he felt their eyes on him more than anyone else’s.

The music shifted again, and every single thought eddied from his mind.

The doors at the end of the aisle opened, and there she was.

His breath caught in his chest.

She was perfect. Her smile was wide and bright and the sight of it was like an arrow slicing through him.

Her eyes met his and the rest of the world faded away.

Emotion swelled, choking him, blurring his vision.

He had never expected to find a love like this, a love like hers, and here she was, moving towards him and looking at him like he had hung the moon.

Distantly, Bruce felt wetness on his cheeks.

But all he could see was her–the woman who was going to be his wife.

As she got closer and closer every last bit of nervousness he’d felt disappeared under her brightness. He was simply an object in her orbit, following her sun, helplessly caught by her gravity. She eclipsed everything else, utterly radiant and so perfect he could never believe she was going to be his.

Belatedly, he fumbled for the handkerchief Alfred had given him that morning. It had been Bruce’s fathers and still bore the initials T.W. He wiped at his eyes only because the tears were blurring the perfect vision of the woman in white before him.

He shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket, eyes never straying from her, and held out his hand as she stepped up to him.

Her hand was warm and fit perfectly in his own.

“Hi,” she whispered with a soft laugh as the officiant told everyone to be seated.

They faced forward and Bruce whispered, “Hi,” back to her, his smile so wide it hurt.

Now that she was close, he took in the small details, the world slowly fading back in at the edges. He was still focused on her, but it was no longer a total eclipse.

Her dress wasn’t quite white–ivory, he was pretty sure they called it, which he only knew from their many conversations about dress shopping–and had a long train. Her veil was long, too, making her look regal beside him, a queen at her coronation. The material of the dress was almost silky, unadorned but not boring. Nestled at his throat were his mother’s pearls, matching the delicate pearls on her veil. His breath caught again at the sight.

Y/n heard the small noise and turned her face to him to smile.

This woman was going to be his wife.

She nudged him gently and with a jolt, he realized that he was supposed to be paying attention to the officiant. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman at his side for long, stopping every few seconds to look at her in awe.

The ceremony was flying by without him hardly noticing. He vowed to love her, protect her, be beside her always. He vowed that they would never be parted, even in death. He reminded her that she was everything he’d ever wanted, the words choking him on the way out.

He had written the vows in an almost fugue state the night before, the words pouring from him. He meant every single thing he promised.

Then y/n vowed to love him, support him, be with him in all things. She laughed when she repeated that she would protect him and that not even death could part them. He was crying again, but he didn’t care.

They exchanged rings and then–

Then they were pronounced husband and wife.

Bruce kissed her fiercely. She was so warm against him, soft in all the right ways, and he never wanted to let her go. He wouldn’t ever let her go.

There were cheers around them. Y/n was still smiling, her eyes wet.

“My husband,” she murmured for his ears only. Was it his imagination, or did she glow even more brightly as she said the words?

“Mrs. Wayne,” he said back teasingly, enjoying the way her breath hitched at the name. “Extraordinary woman.”

Y/n was finally his wife. She was his, in every way.

He was never letting her go.

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