Brucie Wayne - Blog Posts
:)
I firmly believe that the batfam would be a half-decent family to be adopted into while not knowing about their Nighttime Activities TM... at least in the beginning.
Lets say that Kiddo gets dropped off after the death of their last guardian (mother, most likely) and somehow the cops get their hands on a letter or something that says that Kiddo is Bruce Wayne's biological child. CPS wouldn't DNA test a child otherwise, but with some sort of evidence they may. Either way, something tells me that as soon as Bruce was notified of the possible child he would get the test done lol. While that processes the kid would end up in foster care (yikes! Gotham foster care is def rough af) whether Bruce is a foster father or not (that sounds like a problematic placement and he'd probably have to pull strings if he wanted to take care of them during this time). So, for 3-14 days an already traumatized, possibly orphaned child waits in limbo in a cesspool of a foster system. Trauma on top of trauma. And then the results come back and Yay! You've got a daddy!
So they pack up everything and go live with the People's Billionaire who they have definitely seen scandals of on the news before. Can you imagine the thoughts going through their head at the time? Are the other kids gonna bully me? Does he even want biological kids? Is he abusive? Neglectful? Pervy?? Does he really drink that damn much and fall in that many damn fountains?!?
And then they'd meet him and he'd be... stoic? And awkward and kind of cold? Which they could definitely take wrong (Bruce is emotionally inept, not malicious) and assume he hates them off the bat. They withdraw, straining themselves and the barely-there relationship more. The ink's still fresh on their adoption and they already want to leave.
Anyway, lets say things pick up. They meet Dick, the emotional center of the household, and then Jason, their caring (if abrasive) older brother, and so on. They start to find their place. Maybe they still struggle to warm up to Bruce or really feel like on of his kids, especially since everyone else seems so comfortable.
But Dick invites them to get ice cream and burgers and whatever else just as an excuse to spend time with them and make sure they're adjusting well (or enough to be expected). Jason teaches them to punch and how to finally get A's on the English assignments, and how to actually like their English assignments. He buys them fancy bookmarks and they pretend not to notice that he has the same one (they match!). Tim comes to them whenever he finds out a new fact he thinks they'll like and lets you pull coffees out of his hands without too much complaint after he's surpassed his daily limit (he only gives a grumble and an affectionate look) Cass teaches Kiddo all the best places to hide during hide-and-seek and pulls you into her side during movie nights. Cass makes sure you always have someone to eat with if them want it and brings back food whenever she's out. After some work, Damian even lets you help him train Titus!
But they still can't quite settle in because... where did everyone go at night?
If Kiddo's home situation before wasn't exactly ideal then they'd be a light sleeper, which is how they'd wake, and if not it's because they go down for a glass of water or something and see way too many bedroom doors open and beds empty on their way. Either way, after living with people for so long they'd catch on.
They notice that every single person in the household had been unaccounted for at some time. Every single one of their siblings plus both adults in the house were getting together every night to do something without them.
The realization was like a stone at the bottom of their stomach. And so, they start to pull away.
And everyone notices.
Time Travel (sort of)
"Hush, be patient, Master Wayne."
"But that's my son, not yours!?"
"Careful, darling, you might break his poor little angel ears."
Bruce could hear his parents talking. He knew his head wasn't on the right way when he saw the vision of his mother and father. Even Alfred is there. Exactly how Bruce remember him when he was younger.
He quietly grasp for nothing in the air. Thomas squealed. He carries Bruce, lift him up in the air like some sort of toy. And Bruce doesn't understand it even a little bit.
Where was he? Why is his parents still alive? How did this happen?
As it turns out, he time traveled. Sort of? Perhaps.
He had been died in his first timeline. That's all he could remember. Being under Superman's embrace, his head badly wounded, and Dick was desperately trying to keep him alive. But it was all worthless.
Bruce is dead.
And now he somehow get transported into where he had been started. In his lively manor, with his parents and Alfred. Like a family supposed to be. But Bruce know better.
Somehow, he could still lose his parents. He doesn't want to. But it's the event that would impacted so much to his life.
And what Bruce did is to pretend that it doesn't impacted him that much. To pretend that he's alright and had been moving on. Never becomes Batman. Just a regular kind, caring, and cheerful Bruce Wayne.
Somehow he still got Dick Grayson who sneak out every night, followed by Jason Todd (he didn't die in this timeline, thank god), Cassandra Cain... basically all of his previous children.
He knew that they were up to something. Something like "vigilantism".
And what's wrong with the Justice League trying to protecting Bruce all cost? It's not like he's a damsel in distress! (He is an attention seeking whore instead).
This is the funniest batfam meets JL crack fic I've read. Nightwing joins JL, they suspect him because he's close to B and it turns into the batfam doing a home alone on the JL. It's unserious and hilarious I was crying laughing and I really needed that after all the angst I've been consuming recently
Maybe the real reason Batman is known in the JL for giving single syllable replies or even just grunts is that he trained all his small talk skills for his Brucie persona and now he doesn’t know how to small talk without flirting and he will absolutely not be doing that in front of Diana, Hal, Oliver, Dinah, J’onn, Billy, or Clark, all for very different reasons.
How I picture Brucie Wayne’s birth in the battinson universe.
8yr old Dick Grayson: so B I gotta ask
Battinson: hn
8yr old newly Robin Dick Grayson: do you really think that people don’t suspect the crazy Rich secluded billionaire who disappeared for years to be Batman and then takes in a child only for ‘I’m vengeance’ to appear with a child at the same time.
Battinson: hnnn
DG: nonono like no offense but like don’t you think it’s a little …obvious… like marvel movies exist..
Battinson: hnnn what do you propose I do then?
DG: duh you gotta make sure it’s impossible for you to be Batman
Battinson: hmm so I should plan an event where we are both spot-
DG: get drunk and swim in a fountain
Battinson: ???
DG: if Bruce Wayne is dumb he can’t be Batman
Battinson: Bruce Wayne is the head of one the most successful companies in the worl-
DG nodding along: yep all thanks to the amazing help he hired to do the work for him while he search for the cure to polio in the Sahara desert
Battinson: the polio vaccine already exists Dick
DG hand placed on forehead like a fainting damsel: oh it’s so sad about poor Brucie you know, dumb as a rock that one. Didn’t get an ounce of his parents intelligence thank god he got lucky enough that the people he surrounds himself with are loyal to his parents and aren’t stealing money from him.
Battinson: Robin I’m really not followi-
DG rolling his eyes and grabbing B’s face: I’m telling you to play himbo with heart of gold. If people think you’re sweet and pathetic, they’ll (A) underestimate you (B) not question why you disappear for months (C) pathetic good looking idiots get sympathy points.
Battinson: and how would you know this
DG who got adopted by a billionaire who won’t say no to anything he says bc puppy dog eyes: …….
Battinson: …fair point
DG: worlds greatest Detective he says
Do we think that Bruce Wayne sleeps with others to maintain his Brucie persona or does he just pay people to say he slept with them?
Or a secret third option where people constantly spread rumours that he sleeps around a lot and Bruce just says they are true cause it fits his persona?
This can be entirely Headcanon based if you want, I’m looking for opinions!
Love fics where Batman’s identity is revealed as Bruce Wayne and the JL is just not connecting the dots.
But I need a fic specifically where the JL is in a situation where they have to lay low in a safe house or whatever for a few days while they figure out their next move and Bruce just takes off his cowl without explanation and somebody looks up to see BRUCE WAYNE in their secret hideout.
The entire JL: *tired from fighting and crashing in the nearest safe house to hide out in for the next few days while they figure out their next move*
Batman, putting a lot of thought into it: ‘well I don’t want to have to wear all my body armour and my cowl for the next few days, and I trust these people with my life, so I think I can safely take my mask off and reveal my identity’
Batman, without a word even though he should probably say a whole speech and explain why: *takes his cowl off and silently continues with his work in the corner of the room*
The ENTIRE JL: *doesn’t notice*
Someone, probably Hal Jordan: *looks up to see BRUCIE fucking WAYNE sitting in the shadows of their top secret hideout*
Hal:
Hal: WHAT THE FUCK
The JL: *freaking out because why is a civilian billionaire in the secret safe house and how did he get in without the worlds strongest and smartest heroes knowing?*
Also the JL: WHERE THE HELL IS BATMAN????
Bruce: *politely sitting in the corner, still working while he waits for someone to ask him a question instead of incoherently screaming at each other about him*
Hi I'm back again hope everyone's Christmas was well! In spirit of the just past holiday I want to post some batfam hc's of mine Christmas edition!
Bruce: I feel like Bruce can go two ways either holiday wine mom and last minute prep mom. He either is on a couch watching movies with the kids sipping some nice wine OR he's the parent that piles everyone in the car last minute for a present/meal item and triple checks everything 5 hours before people are supposed to be at the house.
Dick: I feel as like the oldest sibling he's in charge of making sure Bruce doesn't go crazy during the holidays. I also feel like he gets those like family ugly sweaters for everyone and if your not wearing it he'll make you feel bad and guilt trip you about it for WEEKS LIKE- " Oh you don't wanna go out to hang? Remember that time I got us all cute sweaters and you decided to make me really sad and not wear it?" ( It works every time.)
Jayson: He's honestly super stressed during the holidays even if he doesn't show it. Poor baby😭 he's tryna figure what gifts to get his siblings. Cuz what do you get the children of Bruce Wayne?? He could snap his fingers and you'd have it. So I think in typical Jason fashion he just gets like gag gifts or gives them like his old weapons/gear that they always bug him about (cuz they think it looks cool).
Tim: I feel like Tim's the type that if they did a secret Santa he's now going to stalk them for like 3 weeks before Christmas and find the most perfect gift after stalking and a lot of calculations. Oh what does he want? Sleep and he's favorite brand of coffee.(I think he'll take the simplest gift anyways so he just asks for coffee.😂)
Damian: Damian's lost and he's barely holding on by a thread. I believe he's never experienced holiday season like this before. I feel when he was still with the LOA they did something small on only Christmas, so coming to America and experiencing the holiday rush between Thanksgiving and Christmas. He probably decides to go hang out with Jon between holidays because it's calmer and if he stays in that house any longer he's gonna murder one of his brothers. I think the first he saw Bruce stress over gifts he almost fainted. I mean he's dad is BATMAN. He's seem him take on foes stronger than him and now he's worried if he should give Cass a barbie or tickets to Wicked?!? It kinda throws him off. But after awhile he decides to help and just like his dad has notes and it takes even LONGER 😂. The whole experience make Damian see why Bruce is so stressed for the holidays.
(plz interact if you want a part!2. Also comment or put it in my asks I don't bite! and I wanna hear your thoughts)😁
Ok so I need some people to post some comments(or put it in my asks) so I can get some thoughts on this. I have had this hc for a while that Bruce Wayne just ABSOLUTELY has a bad habit of like unmasking at ransom times and it freaks people out. Like I'm neurodivergent so let me set the scene. Bruce Wayne out at a gala like usual and he is SO BORED talking to some rich snob and so to entertain himself he just starts daydreaming (for me when this happens sometimes i unconsciously unmask) so his face just drops and he gets this almost like dead doll like look on his face and just dead eyed STARES INTO THIS PERSONS SOUL. Like it's so bad he scares someone half to death and then he like snaps out of it and switches back to Brucie and it damn near gives them a heart attack. (I also hc he's done this to the justice league and it still freaks them out till they realize he was paying ZERO attention to what they just said) I also believe his kids have picked up on this habit and do it too.
after some seconds of blank silence Tim comes in
Tim: it's too low, his voice is too low and the growling keeps messing with it, the voice changer sounded too strange, so for that we are giving to people the excuse of a sore throat Dick: yes, that Diana: *blinks* Diana: ...ok?
Bruce gets a bad concussion with the JL, it's how his identity is revealed. Bc he can't stop talking in his bruice voice and he doesn't know he's doing it (like those people who hit their head and getaway accent)
can we do it the other way round where bruce has an unskippable wayne event he has to go to but he got a concussion day of and now for some reason he can’t drop the batman voice. he just has to go be brucie wayne but while growling menacingly every fucking word and he cant stop. some of the JL are also attending this event as their super personas and they don’t know what to do bcs their old pal brucie wayne is sounding EXACTLY like their coworker batman and eventually dick has to pull them aside and cover for him like ‘ok so dad got caught up in an emergency and we asked batman to cover for him as a favour. he’s wearing a face change technology thingy’
diana is like ‘how come you have face changing tech and not voice changing tech?’ and dick just stares at her for a really long time bcs he truly does not know what to do
Welcome, everyone!!
I'm Oli, the creater of the following AU's:
Batman+Wolverine, teen dad Logan, Feral Baby Logan, Logan Evolution AU, etc Etc. I'll probably start actually posting my stuff into a fanfic soon in order to prevent this from happening a gain. But!!!
I love a lot more than just Wolverine:
I Love
Snufkin!
Batman
Kai from Ninjago
And others but thats the start!
Superman and Wonder Woman
This is coming from a Clois fan but I’m a SuperWonder shipper at heart.
Lois GROUNDS Superman? Steve GROUNDS Wondy?
Hold on, Supes was raised by human parents, loved by humans and loved humans. To say that he needs a human in order to understand humans is a bit mean.
Isn’t the human thing to love and be loved? To serve God and serve others? Regardless of color, origin, and background?
Would that not apply to both Supes and Wondy too? They were loved by their parents, loved the people around them, were hurt and bullied, learned to find their place in the world, and were taught by their parents to love the people they shared this messed up rock with and to help others. And this was BEFORE Lois and Steve.
Speaking of mean, Lois is just a jerk (she loves power), but I like to think after interacting with Clark, she became a better person. But then again… Lois literally flirted with other men and made Clark jealous. in front of Superman. She even cheated on Superman with Jeb Friedman. Is that what you want for our boy in blue?
Supes and Wondy are each other’s equals—-emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually. They know what it’s like to live in a world made of cardboard.
Even many WW fans said that Batman is NOT the man for Wonder Woman.
But they also share the same goals and optimism—to better the world and end crime and all that. Besides, they don’t need a human lover to learn to be human.
And as for Batman: BatCat all the way.
Batman sees not all criminals are evil—-just hurting. “Hurt people hurt people”
And Catwoman learns not all rich people are evil. There are good people out there. both of them are loners who learn how to trust each other. (Batman: Hush. The issue where Batman fights Superman.)
This is coming from a formerly bi person (19 M at the time I’m writing this. Not important in This context): Also, i don’t mean to force anything on anyone, but we have various types of evidence for biblical events, if anyone is interested. I also found ways to combat lust, if anyone is interested. (I’m talking archaeological evidence, miracles caught live, arguments against evolution, divine revelation, science, cosmology, fulfilled prophecy, evidence for the Bible outside of the Bible, God’s work in people’s lives, etc.)
no because I've seen criminally less posts about justice league unlimited
that show was one of the funniest things I've watched like what do you mean Diana is turned into a pig by this ancient greek sorceress AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALL BRUCE HAS TO DO IS SING TO TURN HER BACK?????
criminally underrated if you ask me
The thought that Brucie Wayne and Batman being two completely separate entities that Bruce can code switch between has consumed me especially with the idea that he mixes the two together on occasion to fuck with people
~~~~~~~~~
*Batman and Superman searching a dressing room*
Superman: What about this thing, it looks suspicious?
Batman *full Batman voice*: That’s an eyelash curler darling
~~~~~~~~
*OG JLA revealing identities to newbies*
Green Arrow: Your turn Bats, who are you?
Batman having decided to fuck with him walking up to him cocking his hip putting one hand on his chest and in full Brucie Wayne mode: C’mon Ollie-Dollie you know who I am. We dated 💕
Green Arrow (internally): Modem noise
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Recently revealed identities with Clark and Brucie being at the same party
Brucie: oh howdy 🤠 cowboy, fancy meeting you at this shindig
Clark *flustered* (internally): he can’t be Batman he can’t be Batman he can’t be Batman…
~~~~~~~~~
*Bruce getting a call during a JLA meeting*
Brucie: Oh! hello dear, yes of course I’m coming to your party I’ll see you later 😘
Batman: Our security measures need to be increased due to the number of criminals currently attempting to follow heroes to their base of operations
JLA *experiencing whiplash*: what.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*undercover Brucie and members of the JLA at a party*
Bruce *pretending to be drunk wandering over to the flash*: excuse moi but can I get your attention for just a momento😊
Flash *completely disconnecting Bruce and bats*: yeah uh sure sir are you alright
Batman *quiet but deep Batman voice*: there’s an assassin in the rafters
Emergency Gotham News
The Wayne charity gala in honor of Jason Todd's return after being in witness protection was attacked by the Joker and the youngest Wayne,Damian Wayne, is being held at gun point.
The news lady puts a hand over her ear
We just got confirmation that one of our Videographer where able to patch us through.
(A video pops up zooming in it shows the fallowing):
The Joker,on the left, with the gun pointed at Damian and on the right you can clearly see Bruce Wayne. With each of the other official and non-official Wayne kids being held by two henchmen each.
Joker:--Oh look where is your knight in shining armor now?
Bruce *yelling*: What do you want? (As the Joker puts the gun closer to Damian's head)
Joker: I herd from a little birdy that you and my batsy where together. Now I can't have that now can I? So I decided that for every five minutes it takes for Batsy to show I will kill one of your kides and the Grand Finale? Yo-
He was cut of by a sharp punch to the face by non other then Bruce Wayne,Gotham's Prince.
Bruce Wayne: Not my kids you, Bitch
It was silent for a second before all hell went lose
All the Wayne kids suddenly started to attack the henchman that where holding them, while Bruce looked Damian over and then pulled him behind him.
When everything cleared on the screen you could clearly see and hear Bruce fussing over his children and then he breathed a sign of relief. It the now totaly silent room the only thing that was herd was,"Thank God I listened to Alfred when he said to take those Taekwondo lessons when I was in Korea last month."
Live video Ended
Dc Batfam Fanfic
No account Needed to read
WARNINGS:
Mention of rape
Mention of rape of a minor
Refrences to drugs
Refrences to Suicide ( attemted (Dick) and Jason's mom killing herself via Suicide)
non consental touching
Blood
Death
Killing
Mental Issues
Here it is:
I’ll Be The Villain So They Can Be Heroes
nighttmr
Summary:
The Bats were dead and Dick was the only one left alive. He had nothing left for him so why shouldn’t he join them? Waking up back in time was not the plan but Dick wasn’t complaining. He finally has his family back and he will not lose them again. Robin has always been able to do what Batman couldn’t. It was okay that Bruce won’t kill. Dick wouldn’t ask him to compromise his morals. But he had no such restrictions. He doesn’t mind killing, getting his hands dirty, and being a monster if it means his family is alive. . Or a Dark Dick Grayson who is just a tad overprotective of his family. Just a tad.
AU Idea
Imagine Jason Todd and Cassandra (Cass) Wayne (because there is no way she is keeping the last name "Cain") where bio siblings (twins or something) and Bruce only found out after Jason died.
Now Bruce has to deal with Jason's death (please get some therapy) Dick finding out about said death, a new daughter ( because no way is he turning away his sons sister and this small pint-sized child that appeared at his door. ( And there is a up and coming Crime Boss ) ( maybe add baby Damian too)
Counter AU is when Jason tries finds if he has any relatives he find out he has a older (because I find it funny that Cass is older then Jason because he is built like a brick wall) sister.
My favourite Batman movie is The Lego Batman movie and you might think that it’s childish BUT
My second favourite is The Batman because that is Batman. The scene in the crime scene is spot on! And Selina?! The cat woman suit, the backstory, the casting. And the Riddler? The only criticism I can come up with is that I like the classic green three piece suit with question marks. Only reason it’s not my favourite is that that is not Bruce Wayne. It’s too much wet cat and not enough Brucie Wayne.
Christian Bales Batman on the other hand is too much Bruce Wayne and not enough Batman.
BUT LEGO BATMAN? He is a party animal who flirts his way through life and at the same time a lonely guy who needs to let people in. It’s a comedy and a Lego movie which means we wouldn’t get a creepy Batman who lurks in the shadows and disappears when you look away.
A perfect Batman movie would have a Brucie Wayne who trows a party every week, funds half the city and who you would believe every scandal story about. A Batman who cares about his villains, who is great with kids, who is a detective and not a superhero, who lurks in the shadows and appears and disappears in the blink of an eye. And a Bruce Wayne who sleeps a maximum of three hours a night, is incredibly lonely, adopts any and all kids who he sees himself in and who loves his butler over everything(except his kids).
Just found out Bruce could control his own blood flow, Heartbeat, and could literally bleed on command.
Now I'm imagining how Brucie would abuse this ability and get so many people in trouble, maybe make a small cut look like a stab wound, stop his heartbeat for unnecessary reasons, and so on
Y'know it would've been hilarious if there was a fanfic where the Justice League just thinks "Billionaire Playboy, Model, Actor, etc Bruce Wayne" is a fake persona, and the real Bruce Wayne is actually a mastermind. Because, how else would Brucie have Gotham on the palm of his hands without secretly being a corrupt mastermind?
Bruce Wayne | Batman X Reader
ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ Gotham Socialite ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ
masterlist
I want to make some batman themed oneshots where it explores a relationship between you and him.
EDITED- changed a bit of dialogue and description because I want the reader to be super cool and amazing
High society, meet the reporter reader. Reporter reader, meet Bruce Wayne
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Gotham’s elite are as gaudy as the chandeliers hanging above them. expensive, bright, and utterly useless. The grand ballroom of the Gotham City Opera House is filled with them, men and women draped in designer gowns and tailored suits, sipping champagne as if their wealth isn’t built on the backs of the people suffering outside these marble walls.
You move through the crowd like a ghost, unseen despite being one of the few people here actually worth listening to. They invited you because of your work because your name is attached to articles Gotham’s wealthy pretend not to read but secretly obsess over. You don’t write puff pieces about Gotham’s heroes; you write about its monsters. You dig into their minds, their motivations. Why does Edward Nygma need to prove he’s the smartest man in the room? Why does the Joker turn his suffering into a performance? What makes a villain tick? That’s what you care about.
Not this.
Not the empty smiles. Not the soulless small talk. Not the way these people clutch their designer purses like they contain anything of real value.
You exhale sharply through your nose, taking another sip of your drink just to give yourself something to do. It tastes expensive but meaningless, like everything else here.
As you turn to leave, you accidentally bump into someone a woman in a tight, sequined dress that probably costs more than you’ve made in the last six months.
“Oh, my God,” she snaps, stepping back as if you just assaulted her. “Are you serious?”
Your brows lift. “Oh, relax. You’ll live.”
Her expression twists in outrage, but before she can respond, a man approaches tall, broad shouldered, with a perfectly practiced smile. And just like that, she flips a switch.
“Oh my God, Bruce!” she gasps, laughing like she wasn’t just seconds away from throwing a fit. She rests a hand on his arm the same arm she previously flung up in disgust when you bumped into her. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up tonight! You never come to these things anymore.” You watch with mild disgust as she transforms in real time. It’s like watching an AI desperately try to mimic human emotion.
“Yeah,” you mutter, just loud enough to be heard. “hmmm I might see myself out”
Bruce Wayne glances at you then, his interest piqued. You don’t fawn over him. Don’t preen or attempt to charm your way into his good graces. No, you just look at him like you’re wholly unimpressed. Its not that he wasn’t appealing. Of course you found him attractive. Though finding him attractive felt a little like betraying the people you grew up around. Just because you escaped the extremely poor doesn’t mean you want to abide by it.
“You know,” you say, tilting your head, “for a guy whose while company is built on working with the community , you don’t seem to have much of a grip on reality.”
The woman beside him gasps in horror, clutching Bruce’s arm even tighter, but you’re not done.
“This whole act,” you gesture vaguely at him, “isn’t cute. I mean no disrespect though, go party and go crazy.” Your eyes lock onto his with something sharper than hatred indifference. “I don’t know how you stomach it. It’s honestly an insult to humans.” Silence settles over you like a fog. The woman looks scandalized, staring at you as if you just spit in her drink.
Bruce, on the other hand, just looks intrigued. His usual mask of carefree billionaire playboy falters just for a second. His blue eyes search yours, something thoughtful flickering behind them. Then, just as quickly as it had cracked, the mask slides back into place. He lets out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in feigned sheepishness. “Well,” he says, flashing that same easygoing smile he always wears in public, “can’t please everyone, I guess.”
The woman beside him giggles like an idiot, but you just roll your eyes. Bruce Wayne is a good actor, you’ll give him that and judging by the look in his eye, he looks a little off put.
You don’t give Bruce another glance as you turn on your heel, moving toward the exit with the same single minded determination as a prisoner inching toward an open cell door. You’ve had enough of this place enough of the fake smiles, the rehearsed laughter, the suffocating air of money and ego pressing in on you from all sides.
Bruce watches you go.
He should just let you leave. He should turn his attention back to whatever mindless conversation he was meant to be entertaining tonight. But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze follows you, his interest snaring on something he hadn’t expected.
You very evidently don’t belong here. Not in the way these people do, with their polished exteriors and empty souls. He mentally jokes that press training might be on a to do list for your manager.
No, you move like someone who doesn’t care to belong. Which from his relationship woth selina, Its definitely evident that women from the narrows dont care. You weave through the room with an awkwardness that’s both endearing and painfully obvious dodging trays of champagne like they’re landmines, sidestepping small talk with barely concealed irritation. Your distaste is written all over you, from the way your fingers tighten around your glass to the way your shoulders hunch slightly, as if trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable.
But that’s the thing. You are noticeable. More than anyone here. Bruce takes in the way you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the way you mutter something under your breath when a socialite nearly clips you with a careless turn. He watches as you catch your footing after bumping into a server, your apology quick and sincere so different from the sneering entitlement of the rest of the room.
A quiet chuckle leaves his mouth as he watches you finally get to a corner. Bruce’s lips press together, something flickering in his chest that he doesn’t have time to name.
He should let you go. Instead, he steps forward, slipping through the crowd with the kind of practiced ease that only someone used to wearing masks can manage. You don’t notice him until he’s beside you, his voice cutting through the noise of the room like a knife.
“You’re not very good at this,” he says, amusement lacing his words.
You glance up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “At what?”
Bruce gestures vaguely to the room. “Blending in.”
A scoff leaves your lips as you finally reach the exit, one hand already pushing against the heavy door. “Yeah, well,” you say, sparing him one last glance, “I’m used to this kind of thing.” And then you’re gone.
Bruce watches the door swing shut behind you, his reflection staring back at him in the glass. For the first time all night, he finds himself smiling.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Bruce barely makes it through the front doors of Wayne Manor before he’s pulling at his bow tie, loosening the suffocating knot that had been pressing against his throat all evening. The moment the silk slides free, he exhales, rolling his shoulders as if shedding the weight of the night along with it.
The grand doors swing shut behind him, the quiet of the manor swallowing the distant hum of Gotham’s high society. The transition is immediate, like stepping out of a suffocatingly bright stage and into the cool embrace of shadow. The mask the one made of careless grins and charmingly vague conversation falls away as effortlessly as the jacket he shrugs off, tossing it onto the nearest chair without care.
From the hall, Alfred watches the display with an arched brow, ever the picture of poised amusement. “Welcome home, Master Wayne. I see the evening was as eventful as anticipated.”
Bruce sighs, running a hand down his face. “That might be an understatement.”
Alfred steps forward, hands clasped neatly behind his back. “I assume you spent the night ok though master wayne?”
“Something like that.” Bruce rolls his neck, loosening the last remnants of his socialite persona. “A lot of people talking without actually saying anything. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
“The inevitable I hear,” Alfred muses, “you always seem equally miserable every time you return.”
Bruce lets out a humorless chuckle, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt. “That’s because it never gets any less exhausting.”
Alfred gives him a knowing look before stepping toward the chair where Bruce had carelessly discarded his jacket. He picks it up with practiced ease, shaking his head. “One of these days, you might consider hanging these properly.”
“I consider it every time,” Bruce remarks, already making his way toward the hidden entrance to the Batcave. “Just never quite get around to it.”
Alfred merely sighs, following him with a well worn patience. “Shall I prepare something for you to eat? Or will you be brooding on an empty stomach this evening?”
“Not brooding,” Bruce corrects as he reaches the hidden panel in the wall. The mechanism clicks, revealing the passage leading down into the cave. “Just… following a curiosity.”
Alfred hums, ever perceptive. “Would this curiosity have anything to do with the young woman who managed to offend half the room tonight?”
Bruce pauses mid step, glancing back at him. “You heard about that?”
Alfred gives him a pointed look. “Master Wayne, the moment someone dares to tell off a socialite at an event like that, it becomes the only thing worth discussing. I’d be surprised if her picture isn’t already pinned on some poor soul’s dartboard.”
Bruce huffs out a short laugh before shaking his head. “I’ll be in the cave.”
Alfred merely nods, already knowing there will be no convincing him otherwise.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ The Batcave hums softly with the sounds of running water and flickering monitors, a stark contrast to the suffocating luxury of the ballroom he had left behind. Here, Bruce is no longer Gotham’s golden boy. No longer the playboy billionaire.
Here, he is himself.
He settles into the chair before the Batcomputer, fingers swiftly typing as he pulls up a search. He hadn’t planned on looking you up. At least, that’s what he tells himself. But there was something about you something about the way you moved through that room, awkward yet unyielding. You didn’t belong there, and you didn’t care to. The way you had looked at him, unimpressed and disinterested, had been a rarity in a world where everyone was either too enamored by his wealth or too busy trying to figure out what game he was playing.
His fingers move with purpose, bringing up your name, your records. The first thing he finds is that, unlike many of the people who had surrounded you that night, your life had been anything but privileged.
You were born and raised in the Narrows Gotham’s forgotten underbelly. A place where opportunities were scarce, and survival was a skill honed from childhood. Your record is clean remarkably so, for someone who grew up in the part of Gotham where crime wasn’t a choice but a necessity. No arrests, no notable scandals. You had gone to school, worked through college, and carved out a place for yourself in a city that did everything it could to swallow people whole.
But what catches his attention the most are your writings. Articles. Interviews. Pieces dissecting the minds of Gotham’s most notorious criminals. Not in the sensationalized way tabloids did, but with an analytical depth that spoke of genuine understanding. You weren’t interested in painting them as mere villains or glorifying their crimes you wanted to understand them.
Your work focused not on the spectacle of their actions, but on the why. The motivations. The cracks in Gotham’s system that had allowed them to exist in the first place. You had interviewed ex gang members, street level criminals, and even those who had managed to escape Gotham’s cycle of violence. You wrote about the lives that high society ignored the people who lived in the shadows cast by the city’s towering skyscrapers.
You gave them voices.
Bruce leans back in his chair, studying the screen. You had lived a normal life at least, as normal as someone from the Narrows could. You had no connections to the criminal underworld beyond your work. No secret vendettas, no affiliations.
And yet, your writing showed a perspective that very few people in Gotham ever took the time to understand. You weren’t just observing Gotham’s worst. You were showing that they had stories worth telling.
Bruce’s eyes flicker over the last article on the screen, the words settling in his mind.
“Society has already decided who deserves redemption and who doesn’t. But if you never listen to someone’s story, how do you know they weren’t doomed from the start?”
His fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before he finally leans forward again, exiting the search.
Curiosity, he tells himself. That’s all this is and yet, as the screen fades back to black, he can’t shake the feeling that you might be someone worth paying attention to.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ If you wanted your stories to be heard, you had to be seen. That’s what your publicist told you. That’s what you repeated to yourself as you stepped through the towering entrance of yet another Gotham high society event, where old money mingled with new power, and influence dripped from every word spoken between sips of champagne.
You didn’t belong here. You never did. But belonging wasn’t the point.
This was the price of being heard. If you wanted your work to matter if you wanted people to actually read what you wrote, to listen to the stories Gotham’s forgotten had to tell you had to stand in rooms like this. Not because you cared about these people or their whispered scandals, but because they had the power to shape the city’s narrative, whether they deserved that power or not.
And so, despite the suffocating air of wealth and self importance, you showed up.
The ballroom was an exhibition of excess. A long, lavish table stretched the length of the room, set with gold rimmed plates, crystal glasses, and floral centerpieces so elaborate they could have easily funded an entire year’s worth of rent for a struggling Gotham family. Conversations bubbled up around you hollow laughter, polite murmurs, the occasional hushed gossip passed between sculpted lips.
You found your seat. And nearly laughed. Right beside Bruce Wayne. Of course.
You weren’t sure if this was some kind of twisted joke or if the hosts had simply thrown darts at a seating chart, but there it was your name card placed neatly next to Gotham’s most beloved. Maybe they thought you were more important than you actually were. Maybe they thought Bruce had the patience of a saint. Though you have a feeling after your last stunt, they were trying to see if another PR disaster would come from this. Maybe more publicity for them. Any publicity is good publicity you guess.
Either way, it was too late to change it now. Sighing, you pulled out your chair and sat down, reveling in the last few moments of solitude before the night officially began.
And then, the atmosphere shifted. Even before you turned your head, you knew. Gothams golden boy had arrived.
The energy in the room changed, as if the very air had been pulled toward him. Conversations faltered just slightly, eyes flickered in his direction, and there was a quiet ripple of interest that passed through the gathering like an unspoken current. It was always like this.
The city’s most eligible bachelor. The name that sent tabloids into a frenzy and made socialites tilt their heads just so, hoping to catch his attention. He was power wrapped in effortless charm, an untouchable figure who played the role of the careless heir so well that even the most cynical couldn’t help but watch him.
You risked a glance. Of course, he looked perfect. Dressed in a dark, tailored suit that cost more than your entire apartment’s worth of furniture, he moved through the crowd with the kind of casual grace that made it seem like he belonged everywhere. A relaxed smile curved his lips, and the people surrounding him whether they were whispering behind their glasses or outright gushing were captivated.
It was almost infuriating, how easy it was for him. Why can’t beautiful people feel more im reach?
When then he reached his seat and saw you. For the briefest moment, the mask slipped. Not much just a flicker of something sharp in his eyes before it smoothed over, replaced with something unreadable.
He barely acknowledged the lingering hands on his arm, the voices vying for just another second of his time. His attention had already shifted. To you. You on the other hand are practically clutching your pearls to remain calm. Your publicist told you to absolutely DO NOT fuck up again.
Bruce had been willing to chalk that first encounter up to chance. A passing curiosity. Now he was beginning to think fate had a sense of humor.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he murmured as he sank into his chair, his voice carrying the warmth of amusement.
You exhaled through your nose, already bracing yourself. “Yeah, well. maybe i won the lottery to be seated next to Gotham’s golden boy.”
His lips twitched. “I doubt im anything that special”
You gave him a dry look. “Didn’t take you for a masochist, Wayne.”
He chuckled, low and quiet. “Only selectively.”
You sighed, picking up your menu just to give yourself something to do. “I do want to apologize for last time, I swear im more civilized. I guess that I kinda got thrown off a bit?” Bruce leaned in slightly, his voice dipping just enough that only you could hear.
“Acting all fancy? Where’s the fun in that?”
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ If you had to endure one more second of this sanctimonious drivel, you were going to jam your fork into the back of your hand just to feel something.
The dinner had been dragging on for what felt like an eternity, and the conversation at the table was as unbearable as expected. The hosts, a couple who clearly thought themselves Gotham’s greatest benefactors, were speaking at length about their so called “generosity” and the many ways they had given back to the community. It was all so painfully rehearsed.
“We simply couldn’t sit idly by while Gotham suffered,” the woman declared, holding her glass delicately between her fingers. “Which is why we’ve dedicated ourselves to philanthropy.”
Her husband gave a solemn nod. “Yes. Our foundation has put millions into rehabilitating Gotham’s most… unfortunate areas.”
Unfortunate areas. You took a slow sip of your wine, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from blurting something you’d regret. They were talking about the Narrows. Where you had grown up. Where people still fought to survive every single day, no thanks to the people in this very room.
They spoke as if their generosity was some grand solution to the city’s suffering. As if they had single handedly saved Gotham. You exhaled through your nose, already feeling your patience fraying. It was then that you felt someone shift beside you.
“Did you hear that?”
The words were spoken so casually, so smoothly, that at first, you weren’t sure you had heard them at all. You turned your head slightly, finding Bruce Wayne sitting beside you, his face the perfect picture of polite interest. His voice was quiet, just low enough that only you could hear him.
“Hear what?” you muttered, confused.
He took a sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. “The sound of Gotham being saved.”
You blinked. “what?”
Bruce gestured subtly toward the hosts. “Between the Restoration Project and last week’s fundraiser, I think we can safely say Gotham’s problems have been solved.”
For a moment, you just stared at him. Then, before you could stop yourself, you let out a sharp, amused breath. “Oh, absolutely,” you whispered back. “Crime? Poverty? Completely eradicated. I bet even the Joker is rethinking his entire life’s work.”
Bruce tilted his head, considering it. “Maybe he’ll go into finance. Become a hedge fund manager.”
You snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”
Bruce hummed, pretending to ponder it. “Or accounting. Something low risk. Maybe he’d be great at tax fraud.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself not to laugh.
“Honestly?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer. “A few more dinner parties and we might even get Two Face to start a nonprofit.”
Bruce’s mouth twitched. “And I hear Penguin’s investing in an animal conservation project.”
You covered your mouth with your hand, shaking your head. How had this happened?You had been so close to losing your mind just minutes ago, and now here you were, whispering snide remarks with Bruce Wayne of all people. The absurdity of it hit you all at once.
You scoffed, shaking your head. “This is ridiculous.”
Bruce arched a brow. “What is?”
You glanced at him, lips twitching. “Didn’t think you were so much of a hater.”
Bruce leaned slightly closer, his voice amused. “Isnt that your job? you haven’t stopped being one.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smirk. “I think it’s a little more nuanced than that. Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”
He chuckled, his blue eyes sharp with something unreadable. “Funny. Me too.”
Bruce wasn’t sure when it happened. When the night had gone from something exhausting to something… bearable. Enjoyable, even.
He had sat down at this table expecting the usual the same empty conversations, the same mindless flattery, the same performance he had perfected over the years.
You, who had spent the first half of the evening looking like you wanted to crawl out of your skin. You, who had made no attempt to charm him, who had barely acknowledged his presence at all until he had decided to push you just a little. when you had responded, it had been effortless. Natural.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had felt that. Since he had been able to talk to someone like this without posturing, without pretending. It reminded him of something. Something old. Something familiar. A woman in a black catsuit, teasing him from the edge of a rooftop. Bruce’s fingers curled slightly against his knee.
Selina had been one of the first people to remind him what it felt like to be real. To be alive and now, somehow, you were doing the exact same thing and you didn’t even realize it.
Bruce glanced at you from the corner of his eye. You were still trying to suppress a smile, still glancing around the table like you couldn’t believe you were actually enjoying yourself. He found himself studying you really studying you. You didn’t belong here, that much was obvious. The way you sat stiffly in your chair, the way your fingers tapped lightly against your wine glass when you were irritated, the way you watched the room rather than participated in it.
You were observing. Just like him. Just like he had been doing since he was a boy, since he had first learned how to read a room, how to pick apart every detail, every lie. for all your sharp observations, you had completely missed the fact that you had captivated him.
Bruce Wayne was staring at you like you were a puzzle he needed to solve.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Your voice cut through the air softly, and Bruce blinked, pulled from his thoughts. You had caught him looking. For a brief moment, he considered deflecting, playing it off with a practiced joke. But he didn’t want to.
So instead, he simply shrugged. “I was just thinking,” he said, voice low, “that this might be the first time I’ve actually enjoyed one of these things.”
You frowned, clearly skeptical. “Bullshit. You go to these all the time.”
Bruce smirked. “Doesn’t mean I like them.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, still not quite believing him. “And I’m supposed to believe this dinner is different?”
His smirk deepened. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”
You blinked, and Bruce almost laughed at the way you processed his words, as if you weren’t quite sure what to do with them. But then, slowly, you shook your head, exhaling a quiet laugh.
“You’re so full of shit, Wayne.”
Bruce grinned. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”
For the first time that night, he didn’t feel like the billionaire playboy. Didn’t feel like Batman. He just felt like Bruce. Which wouldn’t that feel weird? He always believed that Batman was the real him. Right now feeling like a teenage boy meeting a girl.
&&&&
The second the speeches ended, you were on your feet. Not rudely just quickly. The second round of self congratulation had begun, and if you had to listen to one more person pat themselves on the back for “saving” Gotham, you were going to lose your mind.
You made your way toward one of the grand patios, slipping past gilded columns and chandeliers that cost more than your entire apartment complex. The doors were open, the cool night air seeping in just enough to make you crave the quiet outside. The moment you stepped onto the patio, you exhaled.
It was massive of course it was. Probably bigger than some of the city blocks you had grown up on. A perfect marble terrace with pristine railings, overlooking the twinkling skyline of Gotham. You leaned against the stone railing, closing your eyes for a moment. Peace. Finally. But, of course, peace never lasted long in Gotham.
“You know, for someone who doesn’t like high society events, you sure end up at a lot of them.”
You opened your eyes, lips already twitching into a smirk before you even turned around. Bruce Wayne stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking at you with that same insufferably amused expression. A short, incredulous laugh escaped you. “stalking me now rich boy?”
Bruce stepped further onto the patio, shaking his head. “Just wanted the air, cant blame me”
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the skyline. “Mhm. Right. Sure. Just a coincidence you keep popping up wherever I am.”
Bruce leaned against the railing beside you, his voice casual. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be sure to keep a three foot distance from now on.”
You smirked. “Six, just to be safe.”
“Ten, and I might start getting offended.”
You shook your head, biting back a grin. There was something so easy about talking to him. Too easy. The thought was unsettling. “I have to admit,” Bruce mused, tilting his head slightly. “I didn’t expect you to show up tonight.”
You sighed, toying with the rim of your glass. “Believe me, if I could have avoided it, I would have.”
“you can say that again”
You exhaled through your nose, staring out over the city. “Yeah, well. If I want my stories to actually matter, I have to be seen.”
Bruce was silent for a moment, watching you. Then, his voice softened. “Is that why you do it?”
You turned to him, brow furrowing. “Do what?”
“Write the stories you do.” His blue eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. “Why villains? Why not the heroes? You’d probably get a lot more recognition if you did.”
You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Because the heroes don’t need me.”
Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver. “And the villains do?”
Your fingers tightened slightly around your glass. “The people who get thrown into Arkham, who are labeled as ‘monsters’ and ‘freaks’ and just written off most of them have stories no one ever hears.” You exhaled. “I want people to understand them. Or at least see them. Even if they don’t deserve sympathy, they at least deserve to be known.”
Bruce didn’t say anything right away. He just stared at you. Not in an uncomfortable way, not in the way men at these events usually did. No, Bruce was really looking at you. And for some reason, it made you shift under his gaze.
“…What?” you muttered.
Bruce just smiled slightly, shaking his head. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect that answer.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well. Sorry to disappoint. I know the usual arm candy around here doesn’t have thoughts.”
Bruce snorted. “You really think that’s all I see you as?”
You arched a brow. “What else would I be?”
His expression turned thoughtful. “I dont really know”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re looking for something interesting, you should probably set your sights somewhere else. I have no interest in being one of the people you “help” from the sidelines”
Bruce’s lips quirked. “help from the sidelines?”
You gestured vaguely. “I want to respect the people in there. the ones who have influence. Though when you’re on the other side of the spectrum its a little rough. The rich like to be seen and not heard.” You turned to him, meeting his gaze directly. “I have no intention of being a footnote in the pretend of gotham.”
Bruce watched you for a long moment, his smirk slowly fading into something softer. Then, finally, he spoke. “I have no intention of making you just a fling or to discard your work.”
The words were said so smoothly, so matter of factly, that they took a second to register. You blinked. Your mind blanked. Your entire brain shut down for a solid five seconds. Because what…what did he mean by that? You weren’t sure what part of the sentence flustered you more.
The fact that he wasn’t denying wanting you, or the fact that he had just so casually implied that you are going to be something more than a just a thought. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Bruce just smirked, watching you flounder. Then, slowly, he leaned in just a fraction.
“Speechless?” he murmured, voice low.
You snapped out of it, your pride kicking back in. “Please.” You scoffed, turning away. “You wish.”
Bruce chuckled, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
And as much as you hated to admit it… You kind of loved that he had caught you off guard.
The soft breeze ruffled your hair as you leaned back against the stone railing, trying to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had left you this disoriented. Bruce’s smirk only deepened as he studied your reaction, clearly enjoying the fact that he had thrown you off balance. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of cool air could wipe the warmth from your face.
“So…” he began, his voice far too smooth for your liking. “I take it that wasn’t exactly the response you were expecting?”
You forced yourself to look at him, swallowing back the knot in your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” His gaze darkened just a little, and for a moment, there was no teasing, just something more genuine. “I think you do.”
The way he said it made your stomach flutter uncomfortably. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to laugh or slap him so you did neither. Instead, you stepped back from the railing, trying to put some distance between you and the overwhelming presence that was Bruce Wayne.
“fucking rich people,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as if to shield yourself from him.
Bruce didn’t move, his eyes still locked on yours, his lips slightly curled. “Is that a no?”
Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “A no?” you echoed, unsure if you had heard him right.
Bruce gave you that damnable, knowing look again. “You know, you don’t have to act all tough. You’re not fooling anyone.”
“I’m not acting tough,” you shot back, despite your nerves. “I just I don’t even know what you’re asking me.”
Bruce tilted his head slightly. “I’m asking you if you’d like to go out with me.”
Your jaw dropped. “Wait. What?”
He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Yes. That.”
You stared at him, utterly baffled, before glancing at the ground as if it might have the answers to everything you had just heard. You couldn’t tell if you were about to burst out laughing, slap him, or just walk away and pretend none of this happened.
“…You’re serious?” you managed to croak out after what felt like an eternity.
Bruce simply gave you a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Dead serious.”
For a long, torturous moment, all you could do was blink at him, trying to make sense of the situation. Bruce Wayne Gotham’s richest, most infamous playboy was asking you, the rebellious daughter of the shadows, on a date and you couldn’t even think of a single coherent response.
Finally, you let out a frustrated breath and turned your head away. “You’re insane.”
Bruce’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile. “I try.”
You shook your head, not knowing whether to feel mortified or weirdly elated. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Well, you could say yes,” Bruce offered casually, his voice now a little more sincere.
You looked back at him, your heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events. “…I’m going to need a lot more time to process this.”
Bruce raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll give you time. But just so you know… I’m not going anywhere.”
The tension between you two was still there, thick in the air. But for some reason, it didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. More like the beginning of something unexpected. Something that might change everything. And just like that, you were thrown back into the whirlwind that was Bruce Wayne.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ It was a quiet night as you walked home, the cool breeze against your face, your mind lost in thought. It had been a long day at work reporting, editing, and finalizing a piece about Gotham’s growing underbelly, a story that seemed to sink deeper with every layer you uncovered. You were used to it. You thrived on it. The truth was your domain, and you’d learned how to swim in the darkness long ago. It was something that made you feel connected to your roots, to the people you came from.
The streets of Gotham felt familiar, in a way. No matter how much money flowed into this city or how many pretty buildings sprang up in the skyline, you couldn’t forget the parts of it you grew up in. The darker corners, the alleys, the people who had nothing but each other to survive. They were your people, the ones you understood more than you ever could the high society types you’d been forced to mingle with.
You rounded the corner onto a familiar street, just a few more blocks before you were home. Then, without warning, the atmosphere shifted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you slowed your pace. Gotham had a way of making you hyper aware, and tonight was no exception.
You felt it before you saw them. The footfalls behind you, too quiet, too steady. Your pulse quickened.
Before you could even react, two men emerged from the shadows, blocking your path. The dark shapes loomed over you, the threat in their eyes clear. One was holding a sharp looking knife, the other a crowbar. The older, taller man grinned, a twisted, unsettling look that made your stomach churn.
“Give us your bag, sweetheart,” he sneered, a rough, gravelly voice edging the threat. “We don’t want any trouble, but we will make it happen if you don’t cooperate.”
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t back down.
“Sorry, I don’t have time for this,” you muttered, trying to side step the bigger man, but he was quick, grabbing your arm with a vice like grip.
“Not so fast,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere until we get what we want.”
You spun around quickly, your elbow connecting with his ribs in a sharp strike. He grunted, but it didn’t stop him from tightening his grip. The other man stepped forward, the crowbar raised as if to swing.
That was when you knew you were in trouble. But only for a second. You kicked back, slamming your foot into the first man’s knee, hearing the sickening crack as he stumbled backward. He swore, holding his leg in pain. You used the opening to break free, turning to face both men. The one with the crowbar swung at you wildly, but you ducked under his reach and used his momentum against him, redirecting his strike into the side of the nearby wall. Your movements were quick, practiced clean, precise. You didn’t need to fight dirty. You didn’t need to be anything other than efficient. All you needed was enough of an excuse to escape. Within seconds, the two men were on the ground, groaning in pain, incapacitated by your calculated strikes.
Breathing hard, you exhaled slowly, dusting yourself off. That was easy. But when you looked up to check for any more threats, the air around you grew heavy.
Batman was standing at the edge of the alley, his towering form almost blending with the shadows. His cape fluttered slightly in the wind, the symbol of the bat glaring on his chest, and those piercing eyes those damn eyes locked onto yours.
You froze. For a moment, it felt like time slowed down. It was him. Batman. The dark vigilante, the city’s protector, who had always hovered over Gotham’s criminal world like a myth, now staring at you with an unreadable expression.
His eyes narrowed. Recognition flashed across his face, though his expression remained carefully controlled.
You stared at him, blinking rapidly, confusion clouding your mind. You knew him. But how? But you hadn’t had you really? You were too caught up in your own world to truly pay attention to the rumors and gossip. He was, after all, just the Batman to you. That was all you cared about. But in that moment, you realized with an unsettling clarity: He knew who you were.
You laughed awkwardly, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Oh great, just what I needed tonight,” you muttered under your breath. You quickly brushed a hand through your hair, trying to act like this wasn’t the most bizarre encounter you’d had in a while. “Listen, don’t worry about me. I appreciate what you do for the community though.”
Batman didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His posture remained rigid, intimidating, but his eyes… his eyes seemed to soften for a split second. There was something in them something that spoke volumes. You couldn’t place it, but it felt like something more than just the bat.
“No,” he said, his voice low, gravelly. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His words were firm, but there was a thread of concern beneath it. “Gotham isn’t safe.”
“Yeah, well, Gotham doesn’t care about safe,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s just me out here. If I want to get home, I’ll get home.” You didn’t want to admit it, but there was something about the way he said that it made you feel smaller. But you didn’t let it show. You lifted your chin, defiant. “I can take care of myself. Just like I did with them.”
You gestured to the two men still groaning on the ground, the earlier tension dissipating into the night air. But Batman didn’t reply. His eyes swept over you in a way that sent a chill down your spine. His body language shifted just slightly, enough for you to notice, but before you could say anything more, he was moving.
“Get inside,” he said abruptly, his voice unwavering. “I’m not letting you walk home like this.”
There it was again. The command in his voice. You narrowed your eyes, a little defiant but feeling a strange pull toward the urgency in his tone. “It’s very courteous of you but please. I told you, I’ve got it. I’m fine.”
Batman didn’t even blink, his tone now sharpened. “Get inside, now.”
His words left no room for argument. You were tempted to push back tempted to keep up your independence. But there was something about the way he said it, the way his gaze hardened, that made you swallow your pride. With a small, frustrated sigh, you turned and started walking towards the street, heading home. You could feel his presence lingering behind you, watching, making sure you weren’t followed.
For a split second, you almost wanted to ask him more. But you stopped yourself. You didn’t need him. Not really. He was just Batman, after all. You shook your head. No need to think about it. Sometimes you want to find and interview him for why he punches first and asks later. Though the bias for your work might be interfering with those thoughts.
But somehow, you couldn’t ignore the tight knot in your chest. The tension in the air between you and him felt like more than just a confrontation. It felt like something else. And that something else… well, it lingered.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his back pressed against the cool stone wall, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of the Batcomputer. His cape hung loosely behind him, still damp from the rain soaked night. The adrenaline of his patrol had long since faded, but an odd unease lingered in the pit of his stomach, something he couldn’t quite shake.
He’d spent countless hours in this cave, fighting Gotham’s worst and dealing with the city’s many challenges. His mission had always been clear: protect the innocent, bring justice, and make Gotham a better place. But tonight, something was different. Something about the encounter with you had stayed with him in a way he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you had handled yourself, standing tall despite the danger.
He had seen countless people fight back, but there was something unique about the way you did it. You weren’t just trying to survive you were alive in the moment, every move deliberate, confident, and unapologetic. You weren’t waiting for someone to come save you; you were saving yourself. It was rare in Gotham, a city where people often needed help just to make it through the day.
And yet, there was a sadness to it all.
Bruce knew that the city had a way of wearing people down, turning them into something else something bitter or broken. People like you, who had grown up in the shadows, had learned to fend for themselves because Gotham didn’t make it easy. He couldn’t help but wish that you hadn’t had to be so strong. You shouldn’t have had to fight alone.
His thoughts wandered back to the moment he’d seen you in the slums. Despite your strength, despite the control you’d taken of the situation, Bruce felt a pang of sympathy. The city had failed you, just as it had failed so many others. Gotham had a way of demanding too much from its people, and it had never been kind to those who were already struggling.
It was clear you weren’t someone who needed saving. You had made your own way, fought for your own space in a world that hadn’t always welcomed you. Bruce couldn’t help but admire that. It was something he understood well carving out a place for yourself in a city that tried to break you. But it still frustrated him that Gotham had forced you into a corner like that.
He pushed away from the computer, rubbing his eyes as he tried to clear his thoughts. He had a duty to the city, a duty that didn’t leave room for distractions or feelings. Yet, something about the way you carried yourself, how you didn’t let Gotham’s grime get the best of you, lingered in his mind. You were a reminder of the resilience he’d always admired in this city, but also a stark reminder of how much still needed to be done.
Bruce had always seen Gotham as a city to fix, a place in desperate need of change. He’d dedicated himself to that cause, but seeing you, standing strong in the face of everything this city threw at you, made him think what if there were more people like you?
But you shouldn’t have to be like that. You shouldn’t have to fight for your survival in a city that was supposed to be your home. And yet, you had.
Bruce exhaled deeply, leaning back against the stone wall again. It was moments like these that reminded him of how complex Gotham truly was. People like you weren’t just victims or criminals. They were the heart of the city, the ones who kept going even when the world seemed determined to make them quit.
He didn’t have the answers, but seeing you hold your own, standing up to those men like it was just another day, reminded him why he kept doing this. Gotham wasn’t just about fighting crime it was about protecting the people who refused to be broken. People like you.
Bruce let out a slow breath, turning back toward the Batcomputer, but his thoughts were still on you. He wasn’t sure where this would lead, or if it would lead anywhere at all. But for the first time in a long while, he found himself hoping that, somehow, Gotham would be a little less lonely for you.
For all of them.
