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after hours (chapter 18)

⯈ previous chapter: chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight - interlude - chapter nine - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 12 - chapter 13 - chapter 14 - chapter 15 - chapter 16 - chapter 17

⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader

⯈ summary: the nights in Gotham are always unforgiving, you, you strip for money, to feed your son and to forget some of your troubles. it’s easy, it’s simple until Vengeance appears in your night.

⯈ rating: mature.

⯈ tw: violence (description of physical abuse), blood, angst, minor character death, hospital settings & medical procedure (FOR THIS CHAPTER)

⯈ chapter word count: 6.7k

⯈ note: here is the june update, please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this chapter, LOTS OF ANGST, we are picking up right where we left off! the next update will be mid july, enjoy!

“BRUCE!”

...

In hindsight, you both should have seen it coming. Because doesn’t life work like that? What goes around must come back around. Or something as poetic as that? Isn’t it the very definition of justice?

Something completely unfair?

Something cold and undiscriminating?

Maybe.

You’ve never screamed so hard and so loud in your entire life.

Even while you were in labor, surrounded by doctors and nurses, drenched in your own sweat, tears, and even some of your blood. You still felt some pain despite the medication, but you knew it was for a good reason. From the suffering, something very good emerged. From the suffering, you created a life. A whole fucking life, but not just the pain from that operation table, God no. It took months and months of so-called love and affection, years of neglect and brutality, all culminating in one moment, all resulting in something good and pure.

Because that’s justice too.

But this?

THIS?

Natasha is dead.

You saw it in front of your very eyes, and you could still see it. Bruce just apologized, and now, in front of multiple screens, in front of all of them, flames are dancing in front of your eyes. Raw fire, destructive fire, annihilating fire. One tear rolls down your right cheek as this minute and this moment seem to drag forever. And yet, you’re breathing, and yet your heart is pounding so loud you can feel the taste of your blood in your mouth, it’s wet and dry at the same time, and, and, and...

“Alfred, Alfred...” You say the name of Bruce’s guardian, breathlessly. “What’s going on... What’s going on?”

“I...” He sounds shaken, you turn to him, and the distress on his face is gone in an instant. Just like that, in a flash, it’s gone. Yes, it’s chilling the way his expression shifts and his demeanor changes, you know, just like you, Alfred is worried, except he knows the next minutes will be crucial. And he must fulfill his duty, not just to Bruce but to Vengeance as well. “Let me see if we can get anything from the police radio. we need to know exactly what’s happening, it’s important.”

You nod, seeing Alfred and hearing Alfred sound so sure of himself is comforting in a way. Internally? You want to grab his shoulders and remind him that there was a bomb next to Bruce. How can he be so sure Bruce is okay? Does Vengeance suit protect him against that? Shit, you should know those answers, how useless can you be?

The thought strikes you as Alfred seems to be playing with the buttons of a very old radio, looking for a signal. You come closer as he detects nothing but static, and just as you’re about to ask him about Bruce, a voice comes from the other side. Someone is coughing loudly, they spit next, and from experience, you know, they just spat some blood and a lot of it.

“CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? Shit, shit... it’s a fucking set up... we’ve been played... everything is... the bank is burning, not just, the history museum and shit... Arkham... multiple squads have been hit, we lost signal... we NEED back up. Please, please... my partner isn’t moving... shit, Gary, please... PLEASE!”

There’s a sob, and it’s gut-wrenching, it shakes you in your boots, and you have to hug your own body just so you don’t end up in the same state. Whoever is on the other side, whoever is sending this message, they don’t have long and they probably know it.

“Alfred...” You put one hand over the man’s shoulder. “We... we can’t let him out there, we have to go get him.”

“Agreed,” Alfred is up on his two feet next, a firm expression on his face. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but the circumstance...”

“We’re past the point of no return, Alfred, ask away...”

“Can you use a weapon? Of any kind?”

“No, unfortunately no.”

“Then, you leave that to me, you’ll be driving.”

“I can do that.”

“Miss... If we go retrieve Master Wayne, you have to do as I say, when I tell you to do it.”

“I will.”

“We won’t be rescuing anybody else, unfortunately.”

“I get it, we get Bruce and we come back here.”

“Exactly.” Alfred nods. “Now follow me.”

You nod, and you automatically follow Alfred. You don't know if it's his tone or his confident stride as he leads you to another corner of Vengeance's base of operation. But you follow, you're ready to follow, to listen and to do anything he tells you to do, especially if it means finding and retrieving Bruce.

He has to be okay.

He just has to be.

He made a promise to you.

No, correction, they made a promise to you.

Both of them. Vengeance and Bruce, they made a promise to you. But it doesn't mean that you are going to sit idly and wait for him. No, for them, you will do the impossible. He's only human, that's something that Bruce tends to forget, and quickly at that, you don't unfortunately. How could you forget that simple and yet very important fact when you've spent so many nights cradled and shielded in his arms?

With your ear pressed right against Bruce's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

That is your favorite melody, one you could always dance to.

You should tell him next time you see him.

Alfred pushes open a heavy set of doors, and you're not even surprised or phased as you face multiple arrays of weapons: guns, rifles, knives of various sizes, and even a few swords. You're waiting for his instructions, and the first thing he does is to give you a bulletproof vest and tell you to watch what he does. He passes one too, securing it with a belt at the bottom, and you copy Alfred's movements quickly and easily.

"Good, very good."

You know he's not talking to you, Alfred still gives you a once-over, probably to make sure you are going to be protected. Once that's done, he grabs a bag and starts shoving a few weapons inside. Various firearms, a few grenades, and finally a first aid kit. You know the weapons are for him to handle, you're one hundred percent sure of it, especially when seeing the resolute look on the older man's face. He closes the back quickly, and finally, he grabs what you know is a shotgun, and finally, Alfred turns to you.

"Let's go."

Next, the butler leads the way to the familiar garage. You don't take any of Bruce's fanciest cars, no, Alfred chooses a practical car, and he hands you the key to an SUV. You nod, still silent as you slip into the driver's seat and fasten your seatbelt. You're trembling, you realize it as you grip the steering wheel, your knuckles change color, and when you turn to Alfred, you find him inputting your destination into the GPS.

Gotham National Bank, Vengeance's last known location.

When he turns to you, he offers you a soft smile.

Your mouth is so dry, part of you is scared, terrified even, are you really about to do something so risky? Yes, you think the next second, for Bruce, you will do absolutely anything.

Alfred says your name with his usual kindness, pauses, and then continues. "From now until we reach our destination, I want you to drive. And just drive. Don't stop at any sign or red lights, just drive."

"Okay." You nod once more. "What about roadblocks or potential police cars?"

"Well, this car is registered under Master Bruce's name, so we can afford a few transgressions, and honestly? I think, and I'm hoping no one notices us in the chaos."

"Good point. Okay, let's go, I don't want to waste any more time."

"Of course."

You exchange one final look with Alfred, and finally, you start the car.

This isn't your first time driving, and yet, it feels like the first time. Everything is new and daunting. You're glad for the cold and empty voice giving you directions. It's a few minutes before you will reach the center of town, and unsurprisingly, the streets are empty on this side of town, no pedestrians, no other vehicles. Peaceful and quiet. You follow Alfred's advice and you ignore the stop signs and the lights, you just drive. Foot pressed on the accelerator, you don't stop, you can't stop.

No, there's too much on the line.

After a particular sharp turn, it's been some time since you drove a vehicle this side, you see the chaos and the madness. And more importantly, you hear it. Yes, the very distinct siren of a fire truck, yes, one speeds past your vehicle, without paying any attention, and that's when the flames come into full view. Orange, red, soaring, and powerful, a couple of buildings are on fire, and there's some sort of rampant panic in the street, as people are running away from those buildings. Police officers, civilians, fire fighters, it's a slew of people moving, shouting, coughing... surviving.

"Take the next left and you will reach your destination in three minutes."

You snap out of it; Alfred gave you some precise instructions, and right now? You're so glad he did, you're just here to drive. Drive to Bruce. Drive to the one man who made you think that maybe you deserved a little bit more.

Drive to the man you love and hopefully find him in one piece.

Drive to the man you love.

Fuck... you should tell him that. Before you lose any chance to do so.

Because it has to be love... right?

Right?

You steer left, it's sloppy, and you hit the curve, but Alfred doesn't comment, and neither do you. Once the wheels of the car are straight, you push on the accelerator with renewed purpose, because it has to be less than three minutes. You have to make it now. Now or never.

"You have reached your destination, National Bank of Gotham City. Have a pleasant evening."

You refrain the urge to roll your eyes at the GPS and its disembodied voice, it doesn't know the whole situation after all, or why you're driving in the middle of the goddamn night. You stop the engine and turn to Alfred.

"Now what?"

"Now you follow me and we go get Master Bruce."

Almost in sync, you both exit the car.

Outside? it's worse, it's so much worse, the first thing that invades your senses is the very distinctive smell of burned fabric. And burnt flesh, part of the building is still on fire, but you spot two firetrucks and a slew of firefighters and police officers, one side of the building is being hosed down by a giant spray of water, and you can only pray that's wear Bruce is located.

"Follow me!" Instructs Alfred, and it's easy to do so.

Yes, amidst the confusion and the chaos, it's very easy to just enter the bank. Maybe someone shouts at you to stop, maybe someone tells you to go get checked by a doctor, but as you enter the bank and you see the broken glass everywhere, you're welcomed by a chill silence and smoke everywhere. You just focus on Alfred, the square sureness of his shoulders as he makes his way up the stairs. You're running the next second, retracing Vengeance's steps and actions. You don't have a motorcycle, so it's slower, and the higher the climb, the heavier that white foggy smoke becomes, and the more you cough. Both you and Alfred but neither of you stops, no, you don't.

"Come on, just a little bit more..."

Alfred's voice guides you and for a few minutes, it's like your anchor, you force a deep breath as you finally stop climbing the stairs, fucking, and you almost regret it when you cough the next second. But you don't stop, you keep following Alfred, and soon enough, he forces his way into a locked room. The hard shove he gives the door doesn't seem to cut it, so, almost naturally, he shoots at the handle with his powerful gun. The sound is loud, but not as loud as your heartbeat, not as hard as the rustling of the wind invading your ears as you enter this room.

There's no smoke, no, the floor-to-ceiling windows have been smashed, and there's a cold wind in the room. Some flames are still dwelling about, but they are about to disappear and...

"BRUCE!"

There he is, in the center of the room, that dark, unmoving form, it's him? Right? The shape of his suit, the shape of his mask, and that pale jaw? You know it's his, you know it's him, you've traced the contours of his face so many fucking times: in your sleep, in anger, in desperation, in a middle of a desperate embrace... it's him, you'd bet your life on it, it's fucking him.

You're faster than Alfred, you don't know how, but you are, and immediately, you rush to his side. Instantly, you're on your knees, grabbing his face. You remove the mask as gently as you can. His eyes are closed, there's blood everywhere on his face, and the contrast is so striking with his pale marble skin, you want to cry. You want to cry and go do the same to the person who hurt him, yes, you want to tear and destroy, just because of what they did to him.

Alfred is there too, and he immediately checks for a pulse; you take in his relieved sigh as he detects one.

"Please, tell me you can hear me, Bruce, we're here, open your eyes, please..." You cradle his jaw with shaky hands, you just need him to open your eyes to signal that he will, somehow, against all odds, survive this.

"His heartbeat is faint but here and... we'll have to take off the suit to see the state of his injuries and..."

"Alfred, there's so much blood on his face, why is there so much blood on his face?"

Just as you ask the question, your hands move to his head, that's when you detect a soft spongy spot, that's where the blood comes from, and Alfred groans when you show him your hands covered in blood.

"He might not come to for a while, we need to... okay, hold him like that." Alfred pulls out the first aid kit, and you watch him work as quickly as possible. He presses some sort of compress to Bruce's head to stop the bleeding and probably stop any further complications. Bruce makes a sound of that, but still, his eyes remain shut. The sound alone? It feels like a knife slicing you in half, but you ignore it, this isn't about you right now, this is about him, you need to do everything you can right now...

"I.... we need to take him to a hospital, this is beyond my expertise, and he needs proper medical attention."

"Alfred, how are we...? They can't know, nobody can know."

"You're right... But there has to be a back entrance, something, we'll head there, you bring the car around while I wait with him, and in the car, we remove his suit and go to a hospital... Okay?"

"Okay, yes, let's... let's just..."

For the next part, you have to let go of Bruce, he's safe in Alfred's arms, and if you were doubting the other man's strength, you don't anymore, not when he manages to get Bruce up to his feet, one of Bruce's arms over Alfred's shoulders. They make for a sore sight, especially with Bruce's head just falling down, the blood still on his forehead and nose, and... you gasp loudly next.

"What?" immediately asks Alfred.

"Look, his right leg, it's..." The angle isn't right, and if Bruce were awake, you are one hundred percent surer he would scream in pain, absolutely no doubt of it.

"I see... it appears to be broken. Even more reason to take him to a hospital, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, agreed."

You nod, without a single hesitation, you plant a quick kiss on Bruce's lips, and you move, ready to bring the car around and to leave this madness.

You need to; this isn't just about you now.

***

Breathing is an automatic process, a natural phenomenon. And for that, you're glad, because you're pretty sure you would have forgotten to take a breath otherwise, with all that's currently happening.

Oddly enough, it's easy to bring the car around the bank, and Alfred is right, there are multiple back entrances, probably for deliveries and such, and it's easy to meet him and Bruce back them. Outside? In the cold night air? Bruce looks even worse, but you somehow manage to lay him down in the back seat of the car as quickly as possible.

You don't need Alfred to tell you to drive you to the nearest hospital; you do it without a second thought. Once again: automatic. Driving also is, once your hands are around that steering wheel, you know exactly what to do and what direction to take. You don't need to use the GPS, you're more than familiar with the route, and you take Bruce to Gotham's general hospital. You pass a few cars, but like Alfred instructed you before, you don't stop. No, while you drive, you hear the older man strip Bruce of his suit, leaving him in loose black clothing.

Alfred doesn't find any more blood, he tells you, so Bruce is lucky in a way. But there's that spot on his head where he stopped the bleeding earlier, his broken leg, and one of his flanks has suffered some mild burning. Alfred doesn't offer you more information, and maybe that's for the best; you wouldn't be able to drive otherwise.

You're silent when you reach the hospital and the emergency room. Alfred takes the lead then. He lies so easily, as nurses and people suddenly surround Bruce. Bruce had a meeting with investors at the bank. He stayed behind to go over some files, and that's when the bank was attacked, that's when he was attacked, and the explosion occurred. It's a good story, plus, who's going to question the richest man in the city? Of course, he'd have a private meeting at the bank; it makes sense.

The doctor informs you that the urgent matter is Bruce's skull; they need to assess if it's fractured or if it's more damaged. His legs and his burning marks are secondary, according to the doctors.

"But he'll wake up, right?" You hear yourself ask the doctor, surprised to hear that you found your voice. For Bruce, you would, of course, you would.

"We'll know more after the first series of exams," the doctor offers you an impersonal reply and an empty smile. You suppose that it's just another day for him. "It's a good thing you brought him when you did... We will let you know as soon as we get the initial results.... and if anything needs to be decided and signed, you'll be notified."

You nod, it's the only thing you can do before your gaze falls on Bruce. On that hospital bed, he looks massive. He looks even paler and yet still impressive. The very picture of a fallen giant, you hate that comparison, you hate it even more when the hospital bed is pushed away and Bruce disappears from your view. You almost jump out when Alfred presses one hand to your shoulder, but still, you let him guide you away. To a waiting room.

But not the usual waiting room, this one has actual comfortable chairs, a water fountain, and the heating works. There's no one in sight, and you can't even laugh at the privilege that money brings, or roll your eyes at it. Honestly, you're glad, you don't want to be facing anyone right now. You've heard the radio signal and you know many police officers and some civilians' lives are in danger, but... You don't care. As bad as it sounds, all of that is background noise, all that matters is Bruce and Bruce only.

You find a chair easily, your feet are on it too, as you fold your legs and press your knees to your chest, just so your chin can rest on them.

"Now we wait?" You mumble, eyes on Alfred next.

He's still standing, and he nods. "Yes... I do have to leave you for a moment, some matters to take care of... I also need to check something on the police feed... I need to make sure that..." Alfred pauses, a sad expression on his face when he resumes his sentence. "They have found Natasha's body."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Your voice is miles away as you say this. She's dead, she's dead, and you're not crying, there are no tears in your eyes, if anything, you feel tired. From this night, from every other night, from the dread, and for worrying. It's horrible, but in a way, you don't have to worry about Natasha anymore, she's dead, right?

That's the final leap... isn't it?

Gosh, you're such a horrible person.

Just as you think that, your lower lip trembles and Alfred appears in your field of you. He's on his knees in front of you, and he grabs your two hands.

"I know this is hard, but believe me, the hardest part is done. He will wake up, I'm sure of it... Master Wayne has been stubborn since he said his first word."

You chuckle despite yourself, so glad for Alfred, and you squeeze his hands next.

"Okay," you manage.

"I won't be too long... I will also grab your mother and the little one and make sure they are safe at the manor."

"Oh yes, that... considering everything happening tonight... yes. Thank you."

"But of course, you're family and so are they. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Alfred leaves you with an honest smile, a miracle considering the circumstances.

***

You wait.

There's nothing else to do but wait.

Sat down on that chair, you wait, all on your own. It's quiet and strangely calm in the room, as if, a few feet away from you, the one person who made you want to change is not in a critical condition. But that's the thing, you don't know. You're no doctor, but you know blood spilling from Bruce's head? It can't be good. You do your best not to focus on that, and you wait. Your eyes are glued to the clock on the wall; your arms wrapped around yourself in some sort of pathetic attempt to warm you up.

And tic-tic-tic... the arrows move, they follow their own pace, they follow their own rules, and they move. 40 minutes pass before your phone, deep in your pocket, buzzes. It's a text from Alfred: your mother and your son are safe back at the manor, security is there, and they won't go out until it's absolutely necessary. You send a simple thank you in response, and when the phone disappears, it's back to waiting.

It's an hour before you face the same doctor you addressed earlier, and once he has confirmed your name, you are one of Bruce's emergency contacts, he gives you the news.

Bruce's right leg is indeed broken.

That's not worrying, what's worrying is that he is suffering from internal bleeding, right inside his brain, and if they don't move forward with an operation, it could lead to some dangerous consequences.

"It's early enough that if we operate now, Mr. Wayne is likely to wake up in the next 72 hours without any permanent damage. He'll have to take it easy and see a neurologist regularly, but-"

"Yes. Go ahead, whatever you need to do, do that," you interrupt the doctor, and loudly at that, without a care in the world, how could you care when there's a chance this night actually end.

He nods, you sign the piece of paper he hands you, and it's back to waiting.

Hours pass.

Hours upon hours, and at 3 am, your bladder and your stomach have decided that you have had enough. Alfred isn't back, you have no more messages from him, you did message him right after the doctor left you in the room, after all, he's the man who raised Bruce, he deserves to know about his well-being and his future. But since then, radio silence. You suppose he is busy, he's not just Bruce's family, he also looks over Vengeance's shoulder, so he has to make sure everything is okay there too.

After all, Natasha is dead.

The thought brings you back to your feet, and you venture into the hospital. Finding the toilets is easy enough; you keep venturing down until you find a vending machine. You buy a bottle of water and a Coke with crumbled dollars from the back of your pocket. The hallway is noisier than the waiting room you left, and despite yourself, you follow that noise. It's always been ingrained in you, it seems, to follow the noise, to follow the chaos. Your feet lead you into what is an emergency room. Doctors, nurses, and hospital personnel are moving about, shouting orders at each other, as they do their best to help all the people here.

By your estimate, there are at least 50 people here, mostly police officers, but not just, you see people without uniform, you see people bleeding, people crying, people praying... All crammed here, in one room. While you're in a pristine waiting room, waiting for Bruce to be treated.

The nausea is there, it's by pure chance that your stomach is almost empty, and you force yourself to swallow your saliva so you don't lose grip of reality.

Because this is unfair, isn't it?

The best doctors in the hospital are probably with Bruce.

But what about those people? They deserve the best too, they're suffering too. There is no way in hell, this is fair.

You can't stay here, you decide, you're physically fine for once, and you feel like an intruder. Or one of those visitors at the zoo, peeping through the glass windows. But this is not a fucking game, no, this is life and death.

You take a deep breath once you're back in the waiting room, and you empty half of your bottle of water, just to steady yourself.

Fuck...

You just need this night to end.

***

Bzz... Bzzzz...

It's 6 am when you move again, but only because your phone is ringing in your pocket. You slowly go for it, you're half dreading a call right now. If it's your mother, you won't be able to tell her or explain to her where you are and why.

Oh, yeah, you know Bruce that you love so much and think I should probably settle down with? He's actually a masked vigilante, the masked vigilante, he dresses up as a bat, goes out at night, and administers his own brand of justice.

...

A great conversation, you're one hundred percent sure of that.

Thankfully, it's Alfred, and you're glad for it. He's calling you and not texting, meaning it must be important, and after a deep breath, you pick up.

"Yes?"

"Sorry for the early call..."

"No need to apologize."

"Any news on Master Wayne?"

"No, I'm guessing the surgery is still ongoing, no doctor or nurse came back to talk to me, so..."

"So, for now, you're waiting."

"Yes," you sigh as you let out the simple word. You're more on edge than at any other time in your life. Maybe in a few days, you'll be able to look back on this moment, to this very moment, and find that you overreacted a little bit. Or maybe underreacted? You have no way to tell for the moment.

"Hang in there, I'm sure Master Wayne is in very capable hands." Alfred pauses, and you nod. "I wanted to update you on our situation..."

"Go on."

"They've found Natasha's body, and her family has been informed."

"Oh, that's good."

"Yes, she was married, the police have informed her husband." A husband? Natasha never mentioned anything of the sort, you suppose that all the info that she gave you at the club, about her crazy life, and her need for money? That was completely fake, just a way to gain your trust and see if you could give her some intel in return.

"Is there a TV in the waiting room?" Alfred asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm..." You look around and finally spot the lifeless black box. "Oh yes, there is."'

"You might want to turn it on soon, the mayor will make an address, from what I have heard."

"Is she?"

"Yes, it's... well, it's worse than we thought. There were multiple explosions, you see, at the same time, at the bank, the museum, but not just. There was also an explosion at the Arkham Asylum."

"You're joking, right?" You hear yourself.

"Oh, I wish I were, but there was, and turns out about 40 percent of the prisoners were able to escape and hide amongst the chaos. So, it wasn't random, it was..."

"A trap." You finish for Alfred, a tired expression on your face. "Just a trap. You heard what Domi... what he said before everything went down." You stop yourself from revealing too much in here. Who says the hospital is safe? No one, absolutely no one. "That he was the one pulling the strings, he knew about Natasha, he knew where we would be tonight, and everything was timed? And well executed? And they didn't take anything from the bank or the museum, I bet?"

"You are correct," drily confirms Alfred.

"No surprise there. Natasha did say someone in the asylum was being a supplier; it's almost as if it was their goal from the beginning. That as well as weaken the police department and... Vengeance."

"Hmm... as much as I hate to admit it, I believe you are right in this instance." Alfred sighs, you can still sense the irritation and frustration in his voice, two emotions that you share. "We've been played and expertly at that."

"Yeah, we have..."

"I.... I have some matters to look at. Are you okay on your own?"

"Of course, you do what you have to do. We both know, the moment Bruce opens his eyes, he'll want some answers, and as fast as possible."

"Yes... Please text me if you need anything, I can send Orlando over."

"Will do, thank you."

"Don't mention it."

You hang up. Soon after, you grab the remote lying on top of a stack of untouched magazines, turning up the TV. You don't have to wait too long before a BREAKING NEWS logo appears on the screen. Just as the camera zooms out and focuses on Bella Reál, the mayor of Gotham, you find your seat again. The black woman is at the police station, and you can tell after one glance that a couple of microphones are in front of her, and a few flashes are going on at once. After a brief pause, she speaks.

"My fellow Gothamites, it is with a heavy heart that I speak to you today. As many of you are already aware, several buildings in the city have been attacked by a criminal organization and its leader, Domino. Most of the victims have been police officers and their fellow colleagues. For those who are hurt and seeking medical help, please make your way to the nearest hospital where we will take care of you, regardless of your status." She pauses, you are focused on her face, how could you not? She sounds the part, and she looks the part. "I now declare the city of Gotham to be in a state of emergency. over the next few hours and days, several measures will take effect to ensure the protection of all the citizens of Gotham. The first one will be to close the city off, with the help of the national guard, no one is to come in and out of the city until this matter is resolved." She sounds so sure that you shiver in your seat. This feels too familiar, it's almost been three years since the flood and that nightmare.

Is the city back to square one?

Was nothing done? Was nothing changed?

"I urge every citizen to limit their trips outside, remain at home safe, and to report any suspicious behavior to the police." Your mother and your son are safe at the Wayne Manor, this is probably the safest place in town right now, most likely.

"Now, to the criminals and any person with ill intent watching this... let me be clear: none of this is tolerated. You will be apprehended, you will be arrested, and you will be prosecuted with the full extent of the law." Bella now sounds downright vicious. She takes this personally; there is no doubt in your mind. “There are tough times ahead of us. The next hours and the next days will determine who can roam our streets freely or not. But make no mistake... Justice will prevail." With that, the mayor's address ends, and it's replaced with a journalist reminding people of the helpful numbers and all the hospitals they can get access to in town.

This is... chilling.

This is another crisis, and there is no escaping this.

You need Bruce.

****

"Miss? Miss?"

By some fucking miracle, you did fall sleep and that hand over your shoulder wakes you up. More importantly, it startles you awake, and you have a full-body shiver as you move your eyelids. The lights are bright, your mouth is completely dry, and judging by the clock on the wall... It's going to be 9 am in exactly 10 minutes.

Oh, there, you got your wish.

The night did end.

Your gaze falls on the doctor next, he's still wearing scrubs you wear for an operation, you know this much, minus the mask and the gloves.

"Sorry, I did not mean to scare you," he says in a tired voice, but you nod negatively. Out of the two of you, he's probably more tired than you are. He's probably completely exhausted; he just had someone's life in his hands, and what did you do? You fucking fell asleep.

"It's fine... any news?"

"Yes, the operation went smoothly, and we were able to stop the bleeding. Mister Wayne is being placed in a room right now. I'm assuming you want to see him?"

"Yes."

You've never answered so fast in your life. You spring to your feet, probably too quickly. Yes, there are stars in front of your eyes, clouding your vision, as well as your unruly curly hair, you push it to one side of your face. You use all of your strength to follow the doctor. He leads you up, you realize, there's another elevator, and you know, for sure, you've never seen this wing of the hospital. You're even more convinced than before as the door slides open, once again, it's too pristine and too clean for a hospital.

"This way," the doctor leads you away, and after a brief pause where he talks to a nurse, you finally have a door number. 713. You follow him to the room, and you freeze in place once you can finally see Bruce.

...

This is not what you were expecting, yes, it is foolish to expect him to be smiling that one smile of his, the one that makes him look a bit dangerous, it's more of a smirk than anything else, and it's usually a private expression he has for himself, when his blue eyes are not focused on you.

It's even stupider to expect him to look as peaceful and as calm as he does when he is asleep, when the night has properly settled in, so much so that morning is about to arrive, so much so that Bruce looks pass out, exhausted, but happy, his face buried in your neck because that's his favorite spot to be in.

To your eyes? Bruce looks worse than the man you found at the bank. No mask, no armor, no nothing, just him, pale and frail, in a hospital gown and on that bed. His right leg is in a cast and it's raised in a sling; he won't be able to move it for a while, you figure. There's a tube going to his left hand, liquid going through, clear and slowly moving, and finally that face... his eyes are closed and he's bruised all over, his eyes are slightly swollen, and yeah, he looks like he took two heavy and painful punches straight to his face.

"... and he'll need some physical therapy regardless, but as I mentioned earlier with this type of surgery, he will need to see a neurologist regularly. We'll have to keep him for a few days once he wakes up and..." The doctor's voice is distant as he reads from the chart.

"But he will wake up, right?" Once again, you interrupt the doctor, without a single hesitation or even guilt, you need to know. This isn't just anybody in that hospital bed. As you ask, you finally step into the room, and that's when you take in all the machines beeping and moving about, monitoring Bruce's health.

"Yes, everything indicates that he will, despite it being a routine procedure for us, it is a heavy surgery for the body. We can't rush this, so he'll have to wake up on his own..."

"I see."

"There is no reason not to be optimistic, as I say, from a surgical point of view, it was a success, but it could take days for Mr. Wayne to wake up, weeks even."

Weeks even.

You nod, the doctor is trying to manage your expectations and to ultimately do his job. You fully understand and you resist the urge to inform him that no, you're not fucking optimistic. At all. You've seen life, you've had life beating deep into your skin, into your bones even, you've even had life growing in your guts and you screamed as you fucking pushed life outside of you, bringing you onto the verge of death. So, you know, you don't need to be told that it's cold, that it's fucking cruel, that it's downright brutal at times, you know.

"I see," you repeat, and finally, you pull up the chair next to Bruce's bed. "Thank you for... everything." You mumble, and again, the doctor gives you that professional, chill, and impeccable smile.

"I'll leave you to it."

When it's just you in the room, you fall into the chair without any finesse, your two hands finding one of Bruce's much larger and rougher ones. He's cold to the touch, which is a major difference. You remember warm embraces, you remember those very hands trying to carve imprints into your skin... It's not the case anymore, and as you look at his unmoving and marked face, you can't help yourself. The night is done and gone, the results are in: no one fucking won, no one at all, and now, there are tears silently rolling down your cheeks. Those are warm and hard to ignore, even more so when you have a full body sob the next second.

"Hey Bruce?"

You have so much to tell him.

He promised, he can't leave you like this, he has to fucking wake up, he has to wake up and make whoever did this to him pay. He has to, Bruce, Vengeance, whoever comes back to you, whoever, whatever, you'll take him, you'll accept him, kiss him, and make a life with him.

Whoever and whatever comes back.

"I love you."

It's barely louder than a whisper, it's half muffled by your tears and the bip bip of his heart rate monitor.

But fuck... It's the truth.

#batman x reader #the batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x you #story: after hours

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goldingwrites · 1 month ago

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a feel like the new generation of fanfic readers NEED to understand that clicking on a fic (interaction) does nothing. ao3 has no algorithm. your private discord discussions of fic do not reach the authors. if you do not actively engage with writers they will stop posting. this isn’t social media this is community.

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goldingwrites · 1 month ago

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One Piece Ship Week: July 14 - July 20

The One Piece Ship Week is back! As always it's extremely late to announce it but oh well, I guess you're starting to get used to it by now.

The week will take place from July 14 to July 20, later than usual but I wanted to leave at least a month to get ready.

Here are the prompts:

Day 1 (July 14): Alternate Universe

Day 2 (July 15): Day / Night

Day 3 (July 16): Sky

Day 4 (July 17): Friends

Day 5 (July 18): Gratitude

Day 6 (July 19): Goodbye

Day 7 (July 20): Free Day

And as for the rules:

- Any type of art (fanfiction, fanart, edit, headcanons, etc) is welcomed. You may translate or repost something that hasn’t been made by you only if you have the explicit permission of the creator and credit them.

- AI is not allowed. At all.

- Use the tag #opshipweek or #opshipweek2025 in the first five tags of your post so I can reblog your entry (late entries are accepted but early entries are not).

- Romantic and platonic relationships are both accepted.

- NSFW content must be tagged as such and trigger warnings must be written in the tags of your post.

- Finally, as it is an even where all ships are welcomed, please don’t hate on other ships or characters

- AO3 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/OnePieceShipWeek

Please reblog! And add the ships you want to create entries for in the tags <3

#opshipweek #opshipweek2025 #oh i'm gonna do this #i'm deffo going to write some:#zolu #zororobin #zoro x wyper

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goldingwrites · 1 month ago

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goldingwrites · 1 month ago

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ngl gang, I have been distracted by nightreign, chapter 18 of after hours could be posted either tomorrow or sunday.

#also I had to look for another job which I found #and chapter 20 is like eighty percent done #update

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goldingwrites · 2 months ago

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writing 7k of filthy, explicit zosan smut was not on my list this pride month but here we are.

#zosan #i should probably post it #first zosan as well #fuck #i'll post it later

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goldingwrites · 2 months ago

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you're getting chapter 18 of after hours next week, while I start writing chapter 20 o/

#update #feels good to be ahead #the story will deffo be 25 or 26 chapters long

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goldingwrites · 2 months ago

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writers are creatures that feed on comments by the way. if you want more of your blorbo from them, give them lovely comments. they love that and will most likely give you more fics about your blorbo

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goldingwrites · 3 months ago

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after hours (chapter 17)

⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader

⯈ rating: mature.

⯈ tw: violence (description of physical abuse), blood, angst, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH (for this chapter)

⯈ chapter word count: 7.7k

⯈ note: we are BACK with a plot-heavy chapter, with the angst and our favorite bat ❤️❤️❤️ also back with the monthly updates, next chapter will be up mid-june 2025!

It's not easier now that you know.

No, it's not.

It's your first immediate thought when you wake up that morning, the morning of, in your bed, surrounded and quite frankly trapped by Bruce. Your bed is smaller than his, but you two managed. He's all wrapped around you, your back to his naked chest, his face buried in your neck, and his arms around you. He's naked underneath the covers while you're wearing his shirt. And with a sigh, you do your best to turn around, without breaking the embrace, remaining in his arms. It's still early, there’s still a bit of night in the air, on your breath, all over your skin. Maybe you could go back to sleep for another hour, that last hour, and enjoy the blissful unknown.

No.

The answer comes almost automatically as you brush the black hair away from Bruce's forehead. You don't want to sleep; you don't want that blissful ignorance. Knowing what he has to do, no, there's another correction to be made here. Knowing what they both have to do in a few hours... You lean in next, your face closer to Bruce's, and you brush your nose against his.

There is only one question twirling in your mind: how is this fair?

You know he has his demons, who hasn't? You've seen Bruce's ones under the glow of the moon, you saw them covered in blood and you still kiss every single one of them. Why? Because you wanted to, because he has done the same thing for you, pure and simple. And you know he has his ego, he is, at his core, nothing but a man.

But still, Bruce wears the mask.

Still, you know nothing will stop him from going tonight.

So, you smile and you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep until your alarm wakes both of you up. Or is it your mother who you can hear in the kitchen? You have no idea.

But for the most part? It's a completely boring and normal morning. Maybe that's what tips you off, maybe that's why you feel, in your bones, that something is about to go terribly wrong. You don't know what, you think as you brush your teeth in the tiny bathroom, right next to Bruce, who insisted on following you to save some time. No, you don't know what, you don't know yet.

And just like every single woman in the world, you don't voice it, what would be the point?

Bruce and your son share a bowl of cereal, your son is on his lap, looking at Bruce, while the Wayne turns the smoothened pages of the Gotham newspaper. Bruce frowns from time to time, and your son copies his expression, eyeing the same words as Bruce. As if he understands them. You chuckle while nursing your coffee.

And then you have to face outside, your mother is off to the grocery shopping, she reminds Bruce that he can stop for dinner any time before she disappears in the direction of the bus stop. While you and Bruce are left with the task of dropping your son off at his school. He's excited to go, today is the day he finds out who will be his partner for the upcoming science project.

So simple.

So pure. So, innocent.

You part ways with a hug, the little boy being the one to break the embrace first before heading out. He has a big day, he will see you tonight, that's what he yells over his shoulder as he climbs the steps two by two.

"Off he goes, it's like he doesn't even need us at all," you comment, still with a smile.

"Oh, come on," Bruce says, taking your hand. "We both know it's not true."

"Well, you would say that, you're his favourite person at the moment."

"I'm so not."

"I'm sorry who got fed cereal this morning, because it was not me, Bruce, it was not."

There is a pause, during which you and Bruce look at each other, and then you both burst out laughing. Because you're the one bickering like actual children. You, the couple. You love every single moment of it, how it warms your heart, how Bruce's whole face lights up as he smiles, and how clear blue eyes stare at you next.

"It's a shame I have to go," he breaks the silence first.

"Don't worry, I get it, I'll take a cab, you take Orlando, but I will see you tonight, right?"

"Yes, you will."

You're not surprised when he grabs your face and plants a kiss on your forehead. You are in public and surrounded, school officials, parents, and children; otherwise, you know he will have given you a proper kiss.

"Yes," Bruce repeats it, right against your skin, this time with more intent. "You will."

***

The orphanage is busy today, and you're glad. Velma updates you very quickly: Halloween is only a few weeks away, three weeks away, which means it's time for children to start working on their costumes. With a teacher or even during their free time.

Which means you spend your morning sending emails and making various calls to different shops and charities in town to see if anyone is willing to give anything. Most places agree to a donation, and you cannot help but smile as you assure them that anything will be appreciated.

It's for children after all.

You haven't thought of a costume for your son; he usually comes up with an idea, your mother spends some time behind her sewing machine, and you go trick or treating in a nice neighbourhood of the city. As well as your building, you are not the only single mother of Gotham City after all.

Maybe this time, Bruce will join you. That's a given. Maybe you can go for a group costume this time: Bruce, your son, and you. It's a fun idea, again, very simple, and as you stretch, you've been at your desk since nine AM, and it's almost twelve, you decide that you need more coffee. It's before the lunch rush so no one is hogging the coffee machine as you enter the cafeteria and it's a quick trip. You have a few more calls to make before lunch, you've made a list, and you're trying to keep busy and organized.

No, it's not your dream job. But it's an honest, albeit completely boring, job.

And you promised Bruce.

And maybe you can get into a rhythm and think of something else to do with your free time. You still have the bookmark saved for the Gotham City Royal Ballet on your work computer. It's by total chance that lately, you've been googling how to join the prestigious dance company; it's an audition, apparently, and most dancers attend a ballet academy before that. There's, of course, one in New York, but not just Metropolis and Gotham, too.

Yes, it's by pure chance that you know all of this; it's not as if you're talented enough to join a ballet school, let alone a company.

It's a nice thought, though. Something for the future, the distant and foggy future, enough to put a smile on your face. As you return to your desk, warm mug of coffee in your hands.

The smile doesn't last long.

No, someone is waiting at your desk.

It's Marvin right next to the empty chair, and you sigh audibly as you two lock eyes.

Yeah, you were expecting that. Part of you wanted to ignore it, but maybe, just maybe, it's because of Marvin that you woke up feeling like something terrible was about to happen. And not because of what Bruce and Vengeance both have to do tonight.

"Hi, I didn't know if you were already gone for lunch or-" Marvin tries, sweet and polite, a soft smile on his face. You ignore him for now. You completely do, you sit back in front of your computer, you put down your mug in its designated spot, you unlock your computer to see if you have received any email in the time that you were gone.

And finally, you turn to him.

You're sitting down and he's still on his two feet, but everything, from the glare you have for him to the way Marvin bites his lower lip next, indicates that you're in control. He's not in his work uniform, you can tell, but one of his hoodies he used to wear, all in black, his hair down.

Bruce and Marvin seem to favour the same colour.

Hey, maybe you have a type.

And ain't that a fucking thought.

"What do you want?" You snap at him, raising one hand next. "And make it quick, I have a job to do."

"Look," Marvin steadies himself with one hand on your desk next. You can't help but stare at his fingers. Suddenly, you wish you had some superpower, and you could make him combust on the spot. "You've said no, and I know there's no changing your mind, and I shouldn't even ask that... But I have a kid out there."

Marvin pauses, and your eyes travel back up to his face. His face showing everything, he's a broken man and not the monster you used to fear, that's for sure. He's missing some hours of sleep and yes, he has been thinking about it. You still don't speak so Marvin continues.

"We both know that if you ask for child support or anything like that, I just can't help you like that."

"I didn't ask you, Marvin. I specifically didn't ask you."

"I know. But please... can I see him, just once?"

"... What's so hard to understand? No."

"Please!" Marvin whispers it, desperately, your name following next as he takes a step closer. "You don't even have to tell him who am I, he doesn't need to know, I think you're right in that regard, there is no way I can be a father, no way in hell... but if I could just see him, from afar... we can meet somewhere, at the park, or he could come to work with you and..."

"Marvin, no. Today you want to see him, what's next? An actual introduction? Family pictures? Fuck you," you're whispering too, angrily. The venom is back in your heart, back in your voice. Bruce was right, and Marvin is being greedy. That awful bastard is being greedy when he's the one who took everything from you and left you with absolutely nothing. It’s a miracle that you survived and that you survived him, and still, Marvin doesn’t see it, let alone understand it.

"No, I don't want anything else after that, please. Just... please just once, a minute, less than that, please."

"You know, Marvin… Usually, people don't stand up when they beg, do they now?" It's cold and demeaning, it's meant to be a slap on his face. You don't expect him to comply. Except he does, the fool, Marvin complies, and he drops to his knees next. Right in front of you, he joins his hands together too, like one would do in front of an altar or in front of God himself.

You're in shock.

Frozen in place as the blood rushes to your ears, and your heart beats faster next.

"If that's what it takes, I'll do it," Marvin mumbles quickly. "Please, I just want to see him once, and then I'll be out of your life, his life, forever. I'll go back to my work, I'll pretend I don't know you, just, please."

"Marvin, get up."

This time, you're not whispering, and you do expect him to comply. He does, slowly, looking around like he's expecting someone else, but it's just the two of you. And thank God for that, you don't want to have to explain why one of the cooks is kneeling in front of you, or why he's begging like his life depends on it.

"You have my answer. I didn't tell you the truth so you would do something about it. If it's a burden for you and it's inconvenient, so be it. It's not my problem, go to therapy, heck, start drinking again, I don't fucking care. You know, and you better stay back, or else."

"Or else what? Look, I want to work something out here, so I don't have to contact a lawyer."

This time you laugh, it's as genuine as terrifying as you do, your eyes still on Marvin. It makes him uneasy that smile, you can tell.

"A lawyer? Really? Yeah, good luck with that, buddy. Do you know who I date? You think that the pro bono lawyer you can get is going to be a match for Bruce's ones? You want to waste your money like that?"

Marvin swallows hard as he thinks of the possibilities, too. "Look, I'm not asking much and-"

"No, you look." You stand up, folding your arms across your chest as you do. "Your first mistake was asking, the second was thinking you could win me over with that little performance... I'm going to say this one more time, Marvin: back off. Forget about me and forget about him. Move on, or else. Whatever you throw at me, I'll be able to handle it."

This time, you think drily, it's implied, you are certain Marvin can hear it, and he takes a step back. He eyes you up and down, a sad look on his face.

"You've changed," Marvin comments, and you roll your eyes.

"Please, Marvin, you never knew me at all."

There's a pause, there is some truth to your words, you know it, he knows it too.

"Now," you tuck your curls behind your ears. "I'm going back to work and pretend this conversation never happened, I suggest you do the same."

You go back to your desk next, focusing on your computer. In the corner of your eyes, you can see Marvin retreating.

And you know it, it won't be the end of it.

...

Fuck.

***

The rest of the afternoon is uneventful in comparison. And still, Marvin's words ring in your ears all afternoon.

That and his desperate plea.

It's at the back of your head while you answer calls and listen to teachers or even Velma tells you about her evening plans. One thing is for certain: you're not thinking about what awaits Bruce as is. So yeah sure, maybe you should thank Marvin for that, maybe. You're not one hundred percent sure, the bad feeling at the pit of your stomach grows and grows... It sets in your throat and makes swallowing your coffee a little bit harder as the afternoon lingers. You wonder if there is something inside of you, if you're going to open your mouth and a tree branch is going to spread out or something. Something that grew because of Marvin's impossible request, your past tears, and your newfound strength.

Ten minutes before the end of your shift, in front of your locker, you finally take your decision. Another important one now that you think about it and when you pull your phone, you don't call Bruce. No surprisingly enough, it's Alfred that you call.

He picks up almost immediately, something that is not very surprising.

"Good afternoon, are you quite alright?" Alfred's calming tone is almost enough, and you find yourself smiling as you’re up against the cold metal of the locker.

"Yes, I am... but this is not a social all unfortunately."

"I knew this would be the case. how can I assist you?"

"First of all, if Bruce doesn't need him, could you send Orlando to pick me up? I finish in 10, but I want to get changed, so probably in 30 minutes."

"I'll inform him, Master Wayne has come home early," explains Alfred. "He is currently preparing for tonight's festivities." And honestly, you take note to thank Alfred for his steady voice and his approach. It almost sounds normal, like it's just another night, like you have nothing to be afraid of: you, Bruce, or even Vengeance.

"Anything else?" ponders Alfred. You didn't make this call just to request Bruce's very efficient and discreet driver, of course not.

"Yes, but this has to stay between us." You hate the words as soon as they leave your mouth. It's the best for now, Bruce cannot afford distractions, especially not tonight.

"Noted," Alfred's reply is automatic, like the perspective of hiding things from his employer, and the man he raised is absolutely nothing. It's not, and you are aware of it.

"I need... a lawyer? Yeah. A lawyer."

"Okay, I'll need a bit more information to find a suit-"

"A vicious lawyer who specializes in family issues and parental rights' ", you finish, interrupting Alfred before you lose your nerve.

"Oh. Message received, Miss, loud and clear."

"Thank you, I knew I could count on you."

"Anytime, I will let you know as soon as I have found a suitable option."

"Thank you, Alfred, really I-" your voice trails, you have no idea how to finish that particular sentence.

"No need. Protecting the family is my job. I shall let you go now; Orlando will be with you shortly."

"Hmm, I'll be quick."

The call ends and you shove your phone back into your pocket as you get ready, changing into more comfortable clothes easily and quickly: one of Bruce black buttoned up shirt, it smells like him, a leather skirt and high boots, you don't bother with anything else, it's getting colder but you're spending the night indoors anyway... Bag over your shoulder, you go to wait for Orlando, you're texting your mother, informing her that you will spend the night over at Bruce's.

It's nothing unusual, not suspicious at all, and she's delighted. The sun is slowly setting down on Gotham, and she's delighted.

We want to keep him happy, is one of her replies, and you roll your eyes hard at that. So hard Orlando asks you if everything is alright as he opens the door for you. Yeah, just typical maternal nonsense, nothing to worry about.

The ride to Bruce's place is short. Orlando has a way with traffic, or you wonder if people simply part ways when they see that particular car because they know who usually sits in the backseat.

You won't have your answer today.

Instead, you find Bruce waiting for you as soon as you step out of the elevator. You suspect Alfred told him you were headed his way, and you find his arms pretty easily.

In fact, the entire evening is easy.

Your last encounter with Marvin is tucked away, somewhere in your mind; you don't feel the need to share it, and you talk about your actual job instead. If you manage to sound excited, it's partly because you are and partly because you are an excellent actress. It seems to comfort Bruce, and he did a good thing offering you a job; you don't want to crush his spirit. It's your evening with Bruce, it should be perfect and without a single itch before Vengeance makes his appearance.

Vengeance can handle the roughness of the world. Its viciousness and the rugged edges. Bruce shouldn't have to deal with that, you want to make sure of it. So, dinner is easy, Alfred cooks, you help while Bruce is on his laptop, choosing some music. It quickly turns into a game, some sort of blind test for Alfred, to see if he can recognize any song just from the first few notes playing, and the older man is very good at the game. Not only that, but he has range, and Alfred's taste seems to cover many genres and not just what you would expect of him.

Yeah, you think with a sigh, it's almost too easy. And for a second, you forget what's looming in the dead of the night and the later hours. Almost. It's not until you are bringing the empty dishes to the sink. There, you see Alfred glance at the watch on his wrist, and then he and Bruce exchange a long look.

"Master Wayne, I believe it's almost time."

"Hmm, let's go."

You reach for Bruce's hand before he pulls you in, you two meet in the middle, and that act alone brings a smile to his face. A smile that doesn't last long, it's gone the second you have to go into the elevator down to Vengeance's base of operation. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you wonder how no one hears it, but for one, you can't see Alfred and Bruce look... focused? He’s staring ahead with his face closed off, eyes and face a bit darker, a bit colder, and you know, right there, it's not your boyfriend.

His other self is dying to make an appearance, his other self is slowly clawing at Bruce's skin, probably whispering horrors into his ear or telling him what's right from wrong. You can see it, it's laid bare on Bruce's face, right there. But not just, it's in the way he's standing straighter, his palm warms against yours... You can see the signs, and all you can do is let him go into the night. It's the only thing you can do.

The second the elevator doors slide open, both Alfred and Bruce are in motion. It's fast, it's automatic, and they clearly know what they are doing. You've never doubted it, and you wanted to be included; you wanted to be a part of this, of Bruce's world, Vengeance's too.

But the most striking thing is still the fact that Bruce did let go of your hand. For some odd reason, you focus on that, your own gaze falls on your hand, and after a sigh, you look up. To your right, Bruce is checking every single part of his armour and passing them on. The process seems too complicated and, in a way, a bit too holy to interrupt, so you just don't. So, you approach Alfred next, as he types loudly onto the keyboard, checking different screens.

"Our view of Gotham," he explains to you. It is the city, your city, the main streets, but not just, it seems to cover everything as Alfred flips through the channel.

"Are those... surveillance cameras?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yet, but not just," Alfred has a soft smile on his face. "We had to be creative in some situations."

"Is creative your way of saying that this is all massively illegal?" You whisper, fighting down your smile.

"Oh, I can't answer that, for obvious and not at all incriminating reasons."

Alfred manages to make you chuckle, a fit in itself, and when he shows you the feed of the streets leading to The Island, your laughter disappears. It's the closest they could get without raising suspicion, and it's honestly not the best view possible. It doesn't show anything, and you suppose that it's the point.

"But worry not," concludes Alfred. "It all stops tonight."

"Yes, it does," adds a rougher voice behind both of you.

When you turn around, you're not facing Bruce anymore. No, you're not, he's long gone: it's not just the suit, the armour covers everything but his face, the mask is in his now covered hands. It's not just the black cowl around his eyes or the thin lines formed by his lips. It's also the way you meet those eyes; Bruce doesn't look at you like that.

You know it, you've seen it.

You sigh, Alfred is faster, he hands something small to Bruce: it's a pair of contacts, that Bruce puts on with too much ease.

"That way, we can see everything he sees," mumbles Alfred and you nod, you remember Bruce suggesting the same thing to you when you were about to set foot into the Island yourself, something you adamantly refused, not wanting to attract further attraction to yourself. Once the lenses are in place, Bruce draws closer to you, he hands you his mask.

That's all he needs to do, and you understand. He needs you to complete the last piece of the puzzle, he needs you to push Bruce away so he can do what he has to do, he needs you to justify all of this and tell him it's okay.

You know all of this, some parts of you wish, as your hands are fidgeting over his helmet, that you had a speech ready. You don't, you've never been good with words. And with Bruce, you've learned that you don't have to torture yourself to find the right thing to say; he will be here anyway.

And he values honesty, doesn't he?

"You," the word, simple and important, leaves your lips like a gut punch, and you mean it. You so mean it. "You are coming back to me, both of you." It's not peaceful, it's not some heartfelt goodbye, and it's not a promise.

No, it's a warning, because you'll raise hell if he doesn't comply, and something tells you he's very aware of it. Or maybe it's the way Bruce tightens his fingers around your chin next, he pulls you to him and crashes his lips against yours.

There's no hesitation, you kiss him back, you respond to his intensity, and by every definition of the term, it's a messy kiss. You push or pull too much, your teeth meet his on more than one occasion, but you wouldn't have it any other way. It makes you feel alive in more ways than one, and when he steps back, you wipe away quickly your lipstick from his mouth. And then you put the last piece of his armour in place, pushing the helmet down on his black hair.

There, you think, he's ready for even the darkest of nights.

***

(BRUCE)

Leaving her side is nothing but easy. Why leave the warmest and most comfortable place in Gotham City?

Why?

Because yes, it's your city, but this isn't about you anymore, because it's about her, her son, her family, your little family... who deserves so much more, you're certain of that.

That's why you finally leave, that's why you face that night, and why you accepted this convoluted plan. You wanted to be the fist of justice, of moral and reason itself tonight. But you can't, you've turned hinges and grooves in the past, and now the system you thought was corrupt is moving. It's healing, and you're not just a masked vigilante; you're part of the change, you work with the police. You're not just part of the disease anymore, not just part of the mass, no, you are part of the solution.

That's what you wanted, right?

Why you even started putting on the mask in the first place. This is a good thing, tonight, The Island falls. It's the kind of poetic justice that moves you to your core, the kind of sentiment you only find when you wake up by her side or when you can bury your head deep inside her curls.

Yes, that kind of poetic justice.

You favour your bike tonight: sleek, black and powerful, it will ensure better movement and it will look like you're simply patrolling. Like you are the intended fool, exactly like they want you to be. The engine roars as the bike awake, you drive out of your garage just as quickly, nothing but a speck of dust as you sail into Gotham.

It's early, almost 11 pm, you're barely into the night. The streets are the opposite of busy, the traffic is light, and you zig-zag across the few cars for a few minutes. You find some sort of rhythm, the purring of the engine, its power is reassuring, not that you need some sort of reassurance. You know what kind of night is coming, it won't be your first time witnessing a crimson dawn.

"Master Wayne, do you copy?" Alfred finally, in your ear, lets his presence be known, and you don't halt your trajectory, as you are headed for the Gotham business district.

"Receiving you loud and clear. What about your end?"

"Perfect transmission sir, the police feed is quite clear as well and thanks to Natasha we know what's happening. It appears they are still getting ready."

"Noted, I can almost see the business district, I'll head there before moving North."

"Don't forget North-East, that's where the Museum of Art and History is, it needs to look like you're patrolling," you smile as you hear her voice. She doesn't sound scared or concerned for your well-being, not that it's insulting, she sounds confident. One of the many reasons why you love her, she knows you can do this. She has never questioned the existence of Vengeance, never asked you to stop or try to smooth your ridges. She knows full well this is just another part of you, and maybe you're the most damaged person in Gotham.

Because Vengeance? He's not the monster, he's not your mask, he's not the pretender.

In a way, shying away from any natural sunlight, Bruce Wayne is.

The business district is quite apart from a few bars still open, and some security guards patrolling in empty buildings. Same for the museum, you can make out the security, and it all appears quiet, very normal. You know it won't last, and it's confirmed a few minutes later by Alfred's voice in your ear.

"The GCPD is in movement, sir, they are approaching The Island, their ETA for the raid is now fifteen min-"

Alfred's soothing and familiar baritone is interrupted by another voice. Alfred is in the right ear, but coming from the left, you get another feed. From the police scanners, a panicked and shaky voice comes through.

"Does anyone copy? We have a 10-64 at the Gotham National Bank! We've already received a call from a security guard, and it appears one of his colleagues has been stabbed. Does anyone copy?"

It's all the information you need; you were just in front of the bank it seemed, only a few seconds ago. In reality, it must have been minutes and you swerve on the pavement as you quickly spin your motorcycle around to head in the right direction.

"Bruce," her voice. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, we're on our way."

Not just Bruce, Vengeance too and to prove it your grip tightens on the handles as your twist the right one up, to accelerate. You're faster than any motorcycle, the loud sound reverberates into the night sky.

You can make it in less than two minutes, you think, you can make it, you can...

"We have a squad headed for the bank, but it looks like we're having trouble here too. I'm near the museum, and we just had another similar call; someone's been stabbed.

"For fuck's sake! Use the codes!"

"What's the point? There's also someone robbing a convenience store on third."

"What? Wasn't there just a call about someone on the 5th?"

"It's both! There are two robberies at the same time!"

"Fuck and half of the guys are... fuck... someone hit the bat signal and hit it now!"

Chaos.

It’s pure chaos, that's what you realize, it's not just one trap, it's multiple traps, and you want to laugh when you finally see the signal in the sky. Bright, white, and hovering, letting everyone know you're about to burst out of the shadows.

"Fuck," she still doesn't sound scared and you're so glad to hear that voice in your ear. "It's more than just one distraction. "Where are you headed?"

"The bank, I'm almost there, and I would have in any other circumstances, we don't need them to get more money for their operations."

"Agreed," she adds sombrely.

"I can see the bank, Alfred. What's the ETA for the police raiding The Island?"

"10 minutes, sir. It seems they are aware of the situation in the city, but the mission remains unchanged."

"Good." You say as you accelerate. First, you think, deal with whoever is at the bank, administer first aid to the person who's been stabbed if that's not already been done. Then the museum, catch up to whoever is committing those robberies and...

And you don't slow down as you spot the bank, no, it's quite the opposite, still on your steel horse, you climb up the steps. Gotham Central Bank claim gold letters on top of the entrance, it's pompous and as clean and pristine as the Wayne Tower. And yet, you can see two figures in the dark, your eyes too accustomed to everything. So, you don't slow down, you burst into the bank through the doors. Glass shatters, and you finally slow down as the bright light of a flashlight is pointed at you.

"Batman!"

The name the people gave you.

You have no choice but to follow the voice, and you climb off your bike to help out. You want to frown at the scene unfolding in front of you: two security guards, the first one pointing a light at you, the urgency of the situation all over the man's features as his other hand is applying pressure to the wound. The wound his colleague is sporting, the other man, lying on the ground, in a pool of his blood.

It would be chilling if you weren't too used to this. It would be frightening if this weren't just another night in Gotham City, but unfortunately, it is. Just another night in Gotham City, and you move closer.

"The police are on their way, and I'm assuming emergency services. Tell me what happened, quickly," you order. Or is it you? Or is it just Vengeance? You don't know, but you move quickly.

First, you check the unconscious man's pulse; it's there, albeit faint, that man is alive, and you will make sure it stays that way. It would have been easier if whatever he had been stabbed with had stayed in place, to keep the blood inside, but when you move his colleague's hand to take a look at the wound, you see it was done quickly and efficiently. This is sadly the work of someone a little bit too experienced.

"They came out of fucking nowhere! They didn't break in! It's like they were already in the bank, which makes absolutely no sense, because the day guard already made his round, and he would have mentioned anything suspicious! He would have, he said it was a boring day, and there comes those guys, and one stabs Clint right in his fucking chest... fuck! He's supposed to go skiing with his little girls in two weeks! Is he going to be okay?" The man is rambling, you don't interrupt, nervous people tend to do that, but it gives you some info, and if you move, it's only to go grab the first aid kit that you have on your bike. A very high-tech and advanced one, the sterile compress is enough to clean the wound, and then you apply a pressure pad to the wound.

"Is he going to make it?" Asks the other man once more.

"Yes," you assure. "The wound is cleaned and this will apply some pressure so it doesn't worsen, give him your jacket, keep him warm and keep talking to him, if he goes paler, elevate his legs to slow the bleeding... I'm going after these guys... any idea where they could be headed?"

"I..." The man pauses as he is nervously peeling away the jacket from his shoulder. "This isn't a fucking movie, banks don't have any money, there's nothing in those safes, they're just for show."

"I know," you assure sombrely, and you stand up, thinking.

You know this is a trap, just for show, but still, they would have to make an effort and attempt to steal something, wouldn't they?

"What about people's records?" You demand, an idea clicking in your mind. "People's phone numbers, addresses, social security numbers… All of that, that's important, you keep all of that on hand, don't you?"

"Oh... yeah I guess we do in the arch-"

Archive room, just like you thought, you don't wait for the security guard to finish, you're already moving, you climb back on your bike, and you use it to dash through the bank as you talk to Alfred.

And her.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, sir, I've heard all of that. 911 has also been contacted."

"I'm gonna need a plan of the bank now, or at least now where the archives are, this is a big building, I have no time to waste." No, absolutely none, tonight, more than ever, every second is precious, you think as you take a particular sharp turn to find the stare. Your tires screech, and if they resist at first, all of you have to do is twist the handle to accelerate further.

"Getting those plans to you now, sir, and..."

"It seems as if they are casualties at one of those robberies," you hear her mumble. She's probably listening to the police scanner as well. "Many people have been shot; it doesn't seem to be fatal, and..."

"And what?"

"They have reached The Island, they are gearing up now."

"Just now? They need to be faster!" You groan in frustration, you should have gone yourself, you should have told the Gotham police to spread out and monitor the streets, you are, you sadly think as you reach the third floor, only one man.

"I will relay the message sir and yes, the archive room is on the fifth floor you should be reaching it soon."

"Not soon enough."

You accelerate and, after another sharp turn, you barge into the fifth floor, bike roaring. You abandon it the moment you spot a light, the rest of the building is dark, why would there be anyone here when the bank is closed and the only two security guards are downstairs, why?

You kick the door open, and you know you've found the archive room instantly. Not only by his size, the various computers in the room, but also by the dozens of men present. They freeze just as they spot you, they all wear the same attire, they're all dressed in black and white: black baggy pants, white large hoodie and finally a silver domino mask covering their face.

Black and white.

That mask.

Just like their boss.

Domino.

Is that supposed to be a joke?

But there is a pause right there, a lull; they are staring at Vengeance, and you are staring back. It's fifteen men in the room, nothing you can't handle, it doesn't scare you, it doesn't elicit anything in you except pure and unfiltered rage. Especially when you spot a man with a large knife in his hand. Is he responsible for the mess downstairs? If that father doesn't make it to his trip with his little girls, would it be because of that guy?

If that father doesn't make it to his family, would it be this man's fault?

There needs to be some justice.

Some sort of retribution.

There needs to be some sort of… vengeance.

...

You move, you're fast, as fast as lightning itself, and you know you will crush that man's skull. Break his hand or something. This isn't about Domino anymore, this isn't about Gotham City or doing what's right and just, for the first time... in a long time, you're blinded. And no one can stop you, but they try. You knock down the first two guys that approach you, the third follows swiftly, someone screams get him and you smirk.

Good luck with that.

Your fists are deadly, they crush and they punish, and you pull on the hood of one of the guys, only to use him as a projectile to hit the next person. It's not pretty, there's no finesse to it, some of your training is completely forgotten, no doubt about it, but it's not about that. You just....

You just...

You just need to reach for that man. You just need...

You can't move, it takes you a second to realize it, but you cannot move, and a second too late, you notice what you've failed to notice before. No one was really fighting you, no, it wasn't about fighting you, it was about getting to you, because of all a sudden, they are what resembles chains keeping you in place. Two on your shoulders, two on each flank, one on your back.... what looks like a Velcro pad is stuck to your suit, followed by a long black chain linked to the nearest wall.

"There, we got you!" The voice sounds pleased as you sink to your knees, you barely have time to register it, someone punches you, hard at that, it's not enough to take you out, no, it's enough to blur your vision for a second or two, and for your mask to slightly move.

No.

You're just a distraction, you're just bait, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Hey Batman, still with us?" It's the man with the knife, he dangles it in front of you, you try to move again, you can't as you do, the chains around you seem to be heavier, and the man speaks again.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you... You see, we have been studying and watching you carefully... and this was surprisingly easy."

"What do you want?" You manage in a raspy voice. Is this meant to scare you?

You haven't known fear since... You were a child, since that night, since there was a gun pressed to your father's temple as he ordered you to look at him.

"Look at me Bruce, this is all going to be okay, just look at me."

Thomas Wayne is deep into your ear right now, not only that, but her voice is too. You made a promise, didn't you?

No, better than that, deeper than that, she told you to come back to her.

So, no matter what, you're coming back to her, no matter what.

"Oh, me? I don't want much... but my boss... he wants to talk to you; he has something to say, actually..."

There's movement amongst your attackers, and suddenly there is a phone placed in front of you, you're participating in a video call against your will, you realize, and then someone else appears on the screen. You focus on him immediately because, just like his subordinates, this man wears black and white. A white pristine, almost too pure suit, with black leather gloves, and a mask, a full-faced mask covering everything. The mask is black and white, split in two, right in the middle, just like dominoes are...

"Oh well, if it isn't Gotham's fist of vengeance of himself... so nice to meet you." Domino waves at you on the screen, and all you can do is grunt. he's got you trapped, you remain silent, hoping something, anything from his costume to his demeanour will give you a clue to his real identity, but you get nothing.

"I'm a bit disappointed you see," Domino continues. "I thought for sure our first meeting would happen face to face, but maybe it's best we don't meet."

"Well, I'm right here if you want to make the trip," you argue in a rough voice, earning yourself a smile.

"Funny... keep that up, you're going to need it in a few seconds," Domino chuckles too from underneath his mask. your eyes widen as he pulls out a gun from outside your field of view on the screen. "You see... I'm not a complete idiot, I know you've been sniffing, I know the police has been sniffing. You thought you were getting close to my operation tonight... and let me honest: you're not."

You can only watch, silently, as the next scene unravels. Domino disappears, and when he comes back, he's not alone, no, he has a tight grip on someone's neck. The woman struggles, but it's to no avail.

Despite the bruised lips and the black eye, you recognize her instantly.

The familiar face of Natasha is on the screen as she struggles to get out of Domino's grip. She can't, especially not when he presses his gun against her temple next.

"You see... I've been in charge from the beginning; everything I have been feeding you is a lie. The Island was just the smoke screen, and you all fell for it... But now? Now the real game can begin, I'll make my moves and if you’re still standing when morning comes, you can make yours... how does that sound? Pretty fair, right?"

Your mouth is completely dry, and even if you know what's coming, even if you know you're powerless to stop it, you still try to. You still try to move, still try to fight against your restraint.

But it's helpless.

Domino pulls the trigger; the sound is loud, and just like that, it's over.

Just like that, he's taken a life.

"Boys, you know what to do next."

The call ends, and Domino's henchmen move. You can't do anything but watch as they trash the place. Computers go to the floor, shelves too, it's a mess, they're making a mess of everything, and finally, sadly, there's another device placed in front of you.

A poorly made bomb, with a timer on it.

Just a minute.

"We are out, come on!"

They break windows, they're ready, they suddenly reveal the harness underneath their hoodies, and the cable ties they are going to use are on the floor. It's too prepared, too fast, and you're left alone.

Just 40 seconds left.

"Sir, sir, can you hear me?"

"Is she... Natasha, is she..."

Just 30 seconds left.

"Bruce." It’s her voice, just as you close your eyes, you don't fight the restraints. If you could escape, you would have done so already.

"Bruce, you have to..."

Just 20 seconds left.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, sure she can hear you.

"What are you apologizing for? BRUCE! This isn't you, GET UP!"

Just 10 seconds left.

"I'm sorry. I won't be able to keep that promise."

...

"BRUCE!"

#batman x reader #the batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x you #story: after hours

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goldingwrites · 3 months ago

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and we have chapter 19 of after hour people! (that's 3 chapters ahead)

starting mid-may, I'll resume the monthly updates,

around 15 of may, chapter 17// mid june, chapter 18// mid july, chapter 19 and so on and so on............

(the fic could end up being 25 or 26 chapters in total)

#still don't know if I'm going to write a sequel or not #MAYBE THE SEQUEL WILL GET ME INSPIRED HAHAHA #update

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goldingwrites · 3 months ago

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I'm not in love by 10cc but make it Zoro x Robin. The strawhats at the club, music blasting on the Sunny, whatever, the crew vibing, everyone dancing except Zoro, Zoro leaning against a wall with his drink, looking cool and detached like he's not moving with and to the music. and then it hits him, Robin is just getting some wine on the other side of the room, she's taking a break, tucking her black hair behind her ear. yeah, big boys don't cry, but Zoro got scars all accross his chest, all accross his skin, and maybe that could be it, with the lives they live, one night that could just be it. the light is just right, the music is just right, and it's Robin. fuck, its Robin so he makes his way to her, plants himself in front of her, he doesn't even ask, he just grabs her hands and leads her away. Zoro doesn't see it but Robin smiles as he leads the way (yeah he's an idiot). away for some dancing, and after some kissing, he's an idiot, she's been waiting a long time for him... hasn't she?

#zorobin #zoro x robin #this are the thoughts I have at midnight listening to the same song on repeat #you have no idea how much I ship them

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goldingwrites · 7 months ago

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I can’t sleep so take this pbm&ms scene:

Miguel wouldn’t consider himself lovesick.

Lyla would say he had elevated heart rate or higher temperature but otherwise no ailments.

Jess would say nothing but there’d be a knowing look in her eyes, the kind of look that spoke of her knowledge of him, being his second in command. The one he trusted with missions and standing at his post when he was out in the field or making an appearance in 2099 for his civilian life. Even though they both knew his true life was either at hq or on another Earth.

He wasn’t lovesick.

He was love drunk.

He’d never say such a thing out loud. It sounded stupid even in his head and he’d definitely not live it down if Parker ever heard him say it. Love sick sounded like an illness, something that needed to be cured.

As he stroked Peter’s hair with his right hand and then MJ’s with his left, the couple on either side of him in bed, fast asleep as they plastered themselves against him - he felt love drunk. He was drowning in both their scents, their body warmth, the way Peter and MJ had their hands clasped together over his chest. Both of them with a little smile on their faces like they were exactly where they wanted to be, with him right smack in the middle.

They had each other. But still, they wanted him too. He didn’t know why the shock that was. But they did. They both tried explaining it on separate occasions. Both answering the same way.

‘We want you because you just fit right in.’

He didn’t.

He was well over seven feet tall, often sleep deprived, grumpy, hangry as Lyla would put it, and broken. Shattered, really, and put back together with duct tape and a hot glue gun. Some days, he felt like the glue was coming undone. Soon. Or maybe it’s already happened.

That feeling happened less nowadays, but it still hovered along the edges. Yet he kept coming back. He was too parched not to. He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily. If anything ever happened to any of them-

His nose twitched. Baby powder and strawberries shampoo. There’s a rustling sound overhead. He sighed as he caught Mayday as she unstuck from the ceiling overhead. He opened his eyes.

“Chiquita, what are you doing out of bed?”

She blinked slowly as sleep still clung to her eyes.

“Ma-aah, ahh.”

He hummed as she yawned, curling herself right under his chin. Peter and MJ mumbled in their sleep as their hands moved to make room for her. He looked down at curly red hair as best as he could.

“Ay, Rosita.” He put a hand along her small body. She was the combination of the two people he cared about. She could get away with just about anything, even climbing on his head during mission debriefs. “Sleep.”

It was irrational for him to let her do that with hardly any scolding. Then again, her parents got away with many things as well. Things he wouldn’t tolerant with anyone else.

Love drunk fit much better.

He didn’t want to be cured of this.

#hmm my friends are so talented #love this #spiderparents

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goldingwrites · 7 months ago

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after hours (chapter 16)

⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader

⯈ rating: mature.

⯈ tw: stripping, violence (description of physical abuse), blood, angst, (for this chapter) rough sex

⯈ chapter word count: 8.6k

⯈ note: yes, I am still here, enjoy this update, merry xmas depending when you're reading this, we're in the homestretch now girlies, I know where I want the story to end... I just need to get there, so enjoy ❤️❤️❤️

(ONE)

You eventually return to work. Even though there is some guilt and dread sitting in the pit of your stomach, you soldier on. You promised Bruce you would give this job and this normal life a shot, and it wouldn't be fair to hide.

And why hide?

You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, you have no reason to cross paths with Marvin, even if you have decided to tell him the truth. it won't happen right away, you might be cruel but you won't do that to your own heart, you need to ease yourself slowly.

The first step is to set foot in The Wayne Orphanage knowing your previous tormenter is close by.

It's not a comforting thought. It's almost suffocating, but still, you press on. The large sweater you have on is soft, it's cashmere, borrowed from Bruce's closet, and it serves as a dress today, paired with black leggings and your boots. You bury your hands in the fabric whenever you need some courage.

Although, and thank fuck for that, the day is pretty much uneventful. You apologize to Velma with a basket of muffins, both from you and Bruce, and you mean every word you say to the older woman. You didn't mean to worry her, to suddenly put more stress or your entire job on her.

"Oh it's okay love," Velma releases you from a hug with a smile, her glasses a bit foggy. "I know you're here to stay!"

"Right... anyway, what did I miss?"

Is it a lie?

Is it hard to swallow?

You ignore all of that.

You're not here to dwell on every single feeling that makes your heart tremble. You're not going to trace all of this in your diary later. You can do this, you're a fully capable adult, with a job, a family, and the healthiest relationship you've had in years... So you keep on.

The day is as boring as it was previously: answering some calls, some emails, showing some people around. You avoid the cafeteria altogether, you've come prepared today, and you have a sandwich and a few books at the bottom of your bag. You borrowed them from Bruce's library, you might as well use all the downtime you get between a call or actually being needed. People working office jobs have to keep busy, right?

You were never much for reading though, and you get bored after two chapters, you've borrowed a murder mystery from the Wayne's library and you're pretty sure you've already identified the murderer.

So it's back to the computer and scrolling online.

It's a complete coincidence that you end up on the Gotham University page. Would it be such a bad thing? You don't have a diploma, you've barely finished high school and maybe you could... you could... You scratch the idea by looking at some of the curriculum, if you're bored at your office job, how the hell are you supposed to survive a lecture? No, that's a shit idea.

...

Gotham City's Royal Ballet.

You don't even know how you end up on that page either, but for a few minutes, you're fascinated by the dancers and you look at the program. It's October and yet, it's possible to book seats for the winter season: The Nutcracker is being advertised in bright bold letters on the front page of the website. You're more fascinated by the few videos you find as well.

You can dance.

And people do that for a living, right?

...

Maybe, that's the real shit idea.

You forget it all together when the phone rings and you're happy for the distraction. The rest of the afternoon flies by quickly, and once you step out of the building, bag over your shoulder, you're only half surprised to find Bruce, already there, waiting for you.

It's raining, slightly, and the Wayne is looking at the sky with a slight frown on his face, a massive black umbrella in one hand. Even he doesn't have the power to stop the rain whenever he wishes, you think with a gentle smile on your face.

"Waiting for someone?" you start, immediately catching Bruce's attention.

"Hmm, my girlfriend, you've seen her?" He returns your smile without a single hesitation, those blue eyes on you the next second. They don't match the sky, no, they are clearer, soother, just like that, it all clicks and makes sense.

Just like that.

"Well," you take a step in his direction, not at all bothered by the light rain. "What's she like?"

"Like a storm actually. Stubborn and loyal... loves to borrow my clothes, which I should find annoying, but surprisingly... I like it." By the time Bruce finishes his sentence, you're in his space, pressed right against him, both underneath the umbrella. You smile before you reach for his face and give him a proper kiss. It's a bit uncoordinated and messy because you're grinning too much, but that's the taste of him underneath your tongue, you'd recognize it anywhere.

"Bruce Wayne is a dork, who knew?"

"No one, not even me, that's new, anyway... shall we go?"

"Sure... but something tells me you already have plans for this evening," you make the guess, grabbing his free hand as he leads the way.

"Did I tell Alfred to go pick up your mother and my favorite little guy and take care of them for the evening... just so I could have you all to myself... Maybe?"

"How thoughtful of you. And what are we doing?"

"Just dinner," Bruce shrugs, he leads you to a car, oddly enough, no sign of Orlando, it's not the usual Bentley either. The car, still expensive, is smaller but still black. He opens the door for you and earns himself another smile.

"Just dinner?" you repeat when Bruce is finally in the driver's seat.

"Yeah... I may have booked the entire restaurant for privacy but... it's mainly so I don't have to share."

"Share what?"

"You, of course."

And with that, Bruce starts the car, the engine roaring and cutting any chance of a reply. You want to be mad, but you can't. Dating Bruce Wayne is not like anything you've ever done and you're growing used to this. Not the special treatment, but the fact that Bruce wants to spend time with you and you alone.

You know the restaurant, it's an institution in Gotham, you also know that without Bruce you couldn't afford a table here. But as Bruce revealed earlier, the place is empty. You're greeted by the entire wait staff, as well as the chef. You let Bruce order for the both of you because you don't know half of the things on the menu and you're not trying to impress anyone. The food is of course lovely, as well as the wine and he tells you about his day and you tell him about yours.

It's light, easy, normal.

For a moment or two, you could forget about his alter ego. About Marvin and what you have to confess, what you should have confessed years and years ago.

About the fact that this is Gotham, about all the bad that happens and that here?

The rain is a true blessing because it washes all the sins away.

Every single one of them.

"Oh which reminds me, do you think you could get us some tickets for the ballet? I'd love to go see one, I don't care which one," you ask as dessert, a chocolate mousse, is served.

"Yeah, I can ask Alfred..." Bruce shrugs. "I'm pretty sure I get sent tickets either way."

"Good, I was on their page earlier, they look really good, and I've never been," you nod, diving into your dessert. You won't tell Bruce why you were on that page and you're glad when he doesn't ask.

"I'll do my best," Bruce assures. "Also... there's something else I want to ask you."

"Oh?"

That stops you from grabbing another spoonful of chocolate, instead, you abandon it in the desert, chin in your hand next, looking up to Bruce. On the other side of the table, he looks a bit hesitant. Then he frowns and continues.

"You know what's about to go down... soon", he insists on the last word, Bruce's gaze is fixed on you, so much so that you can automatically tell what he's referring to. For a few seconds, it's as if Vengeance is in the room too. You know it's the same man, but sometimes, you forget, because their demeanors are not the same, the voice, the way they move...

But right now? There's a slight shift.

It's Bruce who wins however and you nod.

"Would you..." Bruce sighs. "Would you consider going away... for a while? You and the family?" Bruce asks and as you remain silent, he rambles. "We can say you're visiting someone, and you can go wherever you want I'll take care of it of course. But that way, I know that you're s-"

"Safe."

You interrupt him, sharply at that.

Bruce nods vehemently.

You take a deep breath, thinking. You can't say you're surprised. He wants nothing but the best for you, and he'll have to go out himself.

And you both agreed not to lie to each other.

You could take the easy way out. The safest route, and just leave him alone to do what he needs to do. What Vengeance needs to do.

But you've only fled one time in your life, and he knows why.

This is different, you're together, and you care about him as much as he cares about you.

And who, you think, who's going to keep you safe, Bruce? Who's going to keep Vengeance safe? If you go too far, who's going to bring you back? Alfred? Yourself?

...

You already know the answer to that one.

So you sigh, reaching over the table to grab his two hands.

"I get why you're asking..."

"But?"

"My answer is no. I'll do everything to be safe, here. But even if I won't be much help, I'm not leaving you. Not now."

Or ever, you think fiercely as Bruce stares back. He looks sad for a few seconds but he nods, squeezing your hands back.

"Thank you for being honest..."

"Anytime."

"So how's that dessert? Let me take a bite..."

Just like, it's almost like you're two ordinary people.

Almost.

(TWO)

You still haven't worked up the courage to talk to Marvin. And tell him about the little boy. Tell him about the nine-year-old boy that exists because of you and him. Because it's one thing to want to do what's right, it's another thing to do it.

Bruce is wrong when you're concerned, you're not brave, you're not fearsome, and you're a coward when it matters the most. After all, didn't you leave Marvin's side, more broken than ever, because it was the only thing your tired mind thought about doing?

...

The thought swirls in your mind as you avoid the cafeteria, yet again, and you eat at your desk this day too.

Velma did comment on it a few moments earlier, asking you if you were on some kind of special diet (you young girls and your slim figure! I don't know you do it, she had commented, earning herself a laugh). Your simple nod and smile had been enough for an answer for the older woman and you are so grateful that she didn't push. Maybe Velma too is aware of the fact that every single woman has a fucked up relationship with food, maybe that's why she's leaving you alone.

It's better this way you think, biting into your sandwich. Your son made you that sandwich, right before leaving for school too, with a proud smile on his face.

Here you go, Mom, I'm taking care of you because you're always taking care of us.

What kind of child thinks like that? A good one. One who's being raised right. The only thing you did right.

So you owe it to him. To the boy. To be honest. To tell Marvin and later, when your son is older, you'll tell him too. You'll answer all of his questions because he deserves the truth. He deserves to know that sometimes, love is not the answer. Sometimes, you can love as hard as you can, but it's not a solution. Sometimes, you have to be selfish to survive. Sometimes, you have to be selfish to be allowed to leave.

Also, you don't want him to find himself in that position. He could never be like Marvin, no, he might have inherited his hair, his eyes, and... most of his physical traits. But that heart? No, that's unique. The boy is kind, thoughtful, smart and he thinks about the future, his future, in some kind of untainted way you don't ever want to take from him.

You sigh before taking the next bite of your sandwich, you need to compliment the chef tonight and request more lunches. Just as you manage to bring a smile to your face, your phone rings. You're puzzled because Bruce usually texts you, your mother knows you're at work so unless it's an emergency... The number is labeled as unknown by your smartphone, still, curious, you pick up, one eyebrow raised.

"Hello?" You mumble, mouth still full, not caring about being rude.

"Hey, sweetheart! There you are, I was wondering if you'd even pick up the phone!"

You know that voice, you know that tone, it's just weird to hear it in the daylight, over the phone no less... and not when you're entering the club at the other side of Gotham, heels clacking on the pavement and wondering if you'll be aware of this night passing or not.

"Derrick?" Surprised, you name the owner of the club you left behind, for this job, the current job you should be doing instead of being on the phone. Well, you still have ten minutes of your lunch left technically...

"The one and only! Took me a while to track your number down, wasn't even sure you gave me the right one but..."

"But?" He's rambling, and you can tell, even over the phone, that he has a cigarette at the corner of his mouth, smoking as usual. His entire office reeks of smoke, you can still see it, you remember how you always made sure to wear a wig to go collect what he owed you, so the smell would linger on the fake hair and not your own.

"But yeah yeah! Some girls like their privacy and all of that, which is fucking funny if you ask me, cause y'all are comfortable being practically naked and-"

"Derrick? Was there a point to this call?" You interrupt him again, you're not in the mood for one of his rants. They were already too long in the middle of the night, you don't even want to imagine right now. Also, you're not even sure you're supposed to take this call. What about your promise to Bruce? Was it all a lie?

"Yeah, yeah, sweetheart, relax, I'm getting to it..." You roll your eyes as you hear him take a long drag out of his cigarette. "It's been a bit shit since you left, I've got people asking for you left and right... well fuck, they don't know your name, but when they ask for the girl with the never-ending legs and the great ass, I know they're talking about you!"

"Thank you?"

"Honestly, thanking me is fucking useless, the best you can do is come back to the club. Tonight if you can, that'll be lovely!"

"Yeah, I... Derrick, I found a job, a proper job, and..." You swallow your saliva, pressing the phone against your ear. "I'd like to give it a real shot, it's not going to work if I'm spending all my nights on that stage."

"Pff! What do you need a proper job for? You want more money? I'll pay you more, you keep your tips as usual and I'll double your hourly!"

"I..."

"We can get you your own locker room, so you don't have to share with the rest of the girls," Derrick presses on. "And fuck if guys have been asking for you, you'll get more private dances and you can dictate the price of those as well."

"It's... it's not about the money," you whisper.

You can't use that as an excuse anymore, you've saved up quite a small fortune for your son's future working at that club during all of those years. And then some. And, you hate yourself for the thought, you know Bruce would be more happy to jump in if you simply asked him to. You don't plan to, but still, he would. That's just who he is and you two are in a relationship after, all. It's how it's supposed to work, right? Being able to rely on each other in case of trouble.

"Then what? You want a normal boring little life?"

"Yeah... I guess," you shrug, mouth dry.

"Look if it were any other girl, I'd buy it. But you? You've been doing this for years, and you're so good at it. That stage is fucking yours, sweetheart, it misses you... you're telling me you don't miss it?"

"I..."

Of fucking course, you want to tell Derrick, you miss it.

You miss it like air and if that doesn't show that there is something wrong with you, then there's something off with the universe too. You should be simply happy here, with a job surrounded by children and people who want to help them, the orphans. That's a noble cause, the kind of calling that's enough for well-adjusted people. That, your family, the fact that you're healthy, don't need anything else, your son, Bruce... all of those things, they make you lucky, they make you protected, they make you privileged.

So it should fucking be enough.

And yet, it's not.

And yet, Derrick is one hundred percent right, you miss it. You miss everything about it.

You miss the thrill of getting ready for the night, using your most expensive makeup, wearing your highest heels and flashiest outfit, all of that barely hidden by a coat. You miss the wigs of various textures and colors hiding your hair, thanks to that and the makeup, you could become a different woman every time there was music or an outfit change.

And that stage? Oh, that stage, it's the safest and most familiar place in Gotham to you. With that metallic pole. Enough for you to dance, enough for you to captivate, mesmerize, live, and be free...

"I don't. It's better like this. I'm sure you'll find another girl, a better dancer... Don't ever call this number again, Derrick, okay?"

It's not a question and you hang up the next second, hands trembling.

...

You can add liar to the list of your sins.

God, you're pathetic.

(THREE)

"Mom?"

"Hmm...?"

You’re brushing your teeth. At least you were, you spit quickly and you turn around. To face your son standing in the doorframe, staring at you from a hallway, a soft smile on his face. He motions for you to finish what you were doing and you turn back to the mirror quickly, brushing as fast as you can before you rinse your mouth.

This seems important, you don’t want to make him wait.

The next minute you turn to him, toothbrush tucked away inside the mirror cabinet, and you nod in his direction, so he can go on. He is wearing his school uniform, any minute now, he’ll go with your mother and she’ll drop him off at school.

Any minute now.

"You know... this upcoming Saturday?" The boy ponders, looking at your feet for a few seconds then back up to you.

"Yes?"

"Do you have anything planned with Bruce?" He asks with a frown and you fight down the urge to just scoop him up and have him in your arms. He seems and sounds serious, and you know, when he gets like that, a hug won’t help. He wants to speak his mind as clearly as possible and make sure you hear him out.

"No, why?"

"Could we do something... just...” The boy has a slight pout on his face, interrupting his sentence before he keeps going. “Just the two of us?"

The request is innocent and sweet, how could you deny him? The answer is quite simple, you can not. Just like you can not resist your maternal instincts and lean in, you wrap one arm around the little boy and he is in your arms the next second. He doesn’t seem to mind, he’s quite relieved actually, and if it’s not as easy as it was when he was younger, you do not care as your eyes meet his.

"Of course, did you have something in mind?" Did you neglect the boy on top of everything? You have no idea, maybe you did. Between your new job, Bruce, all the planning with Vengeance, and then... Marvin coming back into your life... you’ve been distracted, that’s for sure, even you can not deny that, you have.

The boy nods negatively at your question, did he just assume you would say no?

As if you could ever say no to him.

"Wanna go fly kites? We haven't done that in a while... or we could go to the library or the museum..." The list goes on, you’re happy to do anything with the boy.

"Library sounds nice, maybe they'll have more pilots' autobiographies!" He says, excited, that bright innocent smile on his face, and you can’t help but chuckle. He is still clinging to that dream of being a pilot someday, it’s good. And with enough time and dedication, it could happen, you are one hundred percent sure of it. You want to encourage it, you’ve never had a dream like that, for yourself, and it’s good that the little boy does.

"Yes, and we can go get breakfast at the dinner you like before... so we can spend all day at the library, okay?"

“Yes, I'd like that!”

Tiny arms wrap themselves around your neck, and you two are sporting matching smiles as the little boy presses your foreheads together. You watch as he closes his eyes, breathing in and out next. Is it because he needs to make sure you’re okay? That you’re here? Or the gesture is just for himself and because he needs it? You do not have the answer to that question, whatever the case, it steadies your heart and more than anything else, you’re sure you’ve done a good thing with him.

Yes, you have.

“Okay now put me down please, I can not be late for school!”

“Yes, Sir.”

You say goodbye in front of your building, the little boy and your mom are going in one direction and you’re going into another one. Your heart still feels light in your chest as you hail a taxi.

...

You’re going to do it today.

You’re going to tell Marvin the truth today.

Not for your sake, not for Marvin’s sake, but for the little boy’s sake.

Because he deserves a mother who can own up to her mistakes, who can stand tall and face absolutely anything. Yes, he deserves that more than anything.

You go about your day as usual at the orphanage, many emails are waiting for you, some for you and others for the teachers and you find yourself busier than ever today. A lot of paperwork to be signed by someone in particular, more emails to send back, more copies to do... One of the teachers even has you keep an eye on his class while he takes a student to the infirmary. Nothing happens and the children are happy to keep reading, some of them are even taking notes, and before you know it, the teacher is already back, thanking you as well.

It’s not until the late afternoon that you make your way to the kitchen. Lunch has been over for a while and some of the workers are unloading a delivery, while others are cleaning. It doesn’t take you too long to find Marvin. He’s cleaning a fridge, gloves covering his hands, his long black hair still protected by a fishnet, and a plastic apron over his clothes as he scrubs.

Okay, deep breath.

“Marvin? Can we talk?”

You startle him, that, you can tell, he almost hit his head inside the fridge as he tries to stand up, he swears under his breath and you simply pretend you didn’t hear him. Finally, he turns those brown eyes landing on you. You do your best not to turn back as he mumbles your name next.

“Oh, yeah sure...”

“Somewhere private,” you specify the next second, with more intent.

Marvin nods, he drops the sponge he was using to the floor, eyes still glued to you. His next expression indicates that he’s ready to follow you, it’s your turn to nod before you lead the way.

Just like that day, you head outside, to the unloading bay, figuring it will be the safest place to say what you have to say. Plus, you need to feel the fresh air crawling into your face if you are going to tell him the truth. It seems only right.

Outside you take a deep breath, and after a few quick steps, you turn to him. Marvin is in the middle of removing his hairnet, you wait, you wait as he shoves it in his pocket, he then frees his long hair from that messy ponytail he has. It falls somewhat elegantly, it’s longer than what you remembered, it’s past his shoulders and it looks soft.

Years ago your favorite thing ever was to be naked in his arms and run your fingers through Marvin’s long hair.

Years ago.

The memory is so distant, it’s almost like it belongs to another person and not to you.

“You wanted to talk?” Marvin’s question anchors you back into the present. And now, and what you have to tell him. You nod, you ball your hands into fists, nails inside your palms for another sensation, just so you don’t get lost. You haven’t practiced this and maybe you should have. Or you should have at least written down, to have some idea of what you’re going to say.

But...

Isn’t it easy? Isn’t it the easiest thing in the world?

Yes, you think taking another deep breath, filling your lungs as much as you can: it is the easiest thing in the world.

“Yes. But it’s not a talk. Or a discussion. I have something to tell you, something about us, about... our past. I don’t need you to do anything about it, I don’t even need you to agree, fuck... I don’t care what you’re going to do once I tell you, I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. You just need to know the truth.”

“O-kay?” mumbles Marvin, he’s puzzled and intrigued, you can tell, you don’t even let that deter you, you keep going.

“When I left you... no, when I ran away that night and you never saw me again, it wasn’t just me that left. I was pregnant. Yes, with your kid, my baby boy,” you add the last part quickly, louder as well. Just so Marvin can understand. That’s not his son growing up right now, who dreams about being a pilot, who wants to spend time with you this weekend and go the library.

No, that’s your son.

You carried him for nine months, scared shitless, so sure you were going to mess up. Fuck, you still remember the doubts, the tears, the dread, the fucking joy every single time you felt that little life in your tummy kicking, living, growing... And you made a promise to your belly, to try your best, to make that kid so damn happy...

In a sense you have.

You.

Not him, not Marvin. If anything, his contribution was nothing but short.

“He’s nine, ten in a few months, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And you’re his biological father. But. That’s it, I don’t want money, I’m not expecting you to pick him up for a playdate or after school. He doesn’t even know you exist or what you did to me. Maybe one day when he’s older, I’ll tell him the truth, but not right now... Now he just needs to be a kid and he’s good at that... so good at that, and that’s all I need him to be, a kid. My kid,” you are rumbling by now. No, you didn’t practice any of this, maybe you should have? You have no idea, no idea if you’re pouring your heart out or if you’re issuing a warning to Marvin. To stay the fuck away.

Maybe it’s both.

Doing the right thing is fucking exhausting, you’re shaking by now, hands still closed into two fists, ready to strike if necessary, ready to flee if that’s needed. You’re telling the truth and it’s only a bit too late that you’re aware that some tears have formed into your eyes. Only as one, salty and wet, starts rolling down your cheek and makes you painfully aware of how messed up the situation is.

That’s when you finally decide to actually look at Marvin, and not the empty spot above his right shoulder.

His mouth is wide open, the expression one of pure shock on his face. As he stares back, he gulps, audibly, the sound unpleasant to your ears, no doubt of that, and Marvin takes a deep breath next. His eyes are closed next, and when he opens them again, you can guess a million thoughts in his head and the million questions that are sure to follow.

“You were... back when we...” Marvin mumbles it, he can’t finish his sentence, and the uglier part of yourself, the one that claws and has sunk its teeth into Bruce’s heart, roars and wants to laugh.

Yes, you fucker, I was pregnant when you were beating me up, you could have killed me. You could have killed my fucking baby too.

Except he didn’t, Marvin was weak in that sense. Out of this outcome, you were the strongest.

Fuck, you still are. He has absolutely no idea of what you can do, what you have done, what you’ve seen... No fucking clue at all. Maybe Bruce and Vengeance know, yeah, they have seen all parts of you: broken, ugly, bloody, messy, all of those parts, and decided that it was enough. Or that you were as messed up as them, messed up enough to join their little dance. Messed up enough to be their partner.

In a sense, Bruce and Vengeance were right.

“I was.” You shake your head. “That’s all I wanted to say, the truth, so there is no secret or lies between us. And since you’ve updated me on your life well...” You shrug, you want to fucking laugh, this is one hell of an update and the look Marvin gives you is enough to tell you he thinks so as well.

“I wasn’t expecting that, that’s for sure,” Marvin mumbles one hand into his hair, he sinks to the ground, he sits like that. He stares at nothing, for thirty seconds, you know because you count it in your head.

That’s enough, you should leave, you don’t owe him shit.

That voice in your head is very similar to Vengeance, and fuck, you know he’s right.

Just as you’re about to move, Marvin’s eyes move back to yours, and that stare pins you into place in a way. Because deep down, you already know what he’s about to ask.

“Can I see him?”

“No.”

It’s loud the way you say it, the way you deny that request, it echoes and reverberates in between you two and if Marvin wasn’t already sitting down, it would have been enough for him to drop to his knees. That and the glare you have for him, the anger simmers, it's about to tip over and let you fucking destroy him. Hot boiling rage you could use to remind him of so many truths and why you deny such a request.

“You’re not going to see him. I didn’t tell you that so you could feel like you had to do something.”

“So why did you tell me?”

“Honestly? I don’t fucking know... But it’s done now, I don’t want you doing shit about it.”

“He’s my...” Marvin tries to argue, he sounds and looks desperate, and you resist the urge to draw closer and spit in his face. That would have meaning, that would be justified, it would be less cruel than anything he ever did to you in the past.

But you don't.

“He’s your fucking nothing, Marvin. So what? You came in me nine years ago? Big fucking deal, that doesn’t give you any right, that doesn’t make you a father!” Your anger is going to tear him alive, you think darkly as you approach, you’re towering over him now. You could use something else than your words, but you’re not him. You’ll never be him.

“Oh and what... I suppose your new boyfriend gets to be around him and raise him with you?”

“Yes, he does actually. Bruce never hurt me like you did, Bruce cares about me, he’s earned my trust time and time again!”

Unlike you.

It’s unspoken, you know he reads between the lines, as he suddenly stands up. You don’t move, you’re closer to Marvin than you’ve been in years and you can see it, a faint of that hunger, of the monster he used to be. Right there, on his face, the way he frowns, the way he breathes in next.

You still don’t back down.

“Bruce loves me,” you assure him, a smile now finding your face. It’s as simple as that, and you’re a fucking fool who took it for granted, you realize. A fucking fool who thought Bruce was using it as a weapon when he was merely offering protection. However, the reason why you can’t see the difference between the two, the reason why you’re so cautious? Is right in front of you, it’s Marvin who sighs, reigning down his anger. His mouth is a thin line as he glares back, he’s trying to not be the monster you’ve known him to be.

“And I did... in my own twisted and fucked up way, and we made something tog-”

“Shup Marvin, just shut up. If this is what you need to tell yourself to sleep and move on then fine, I won’t say anything. But let’s get one thing clear.” You raise your finger, your index pressed deep into Marvin’s chest next. So deep you can feel his heart pounding underneath your fingertip. “It was not love. I fucking forbid you to call it love because it wasn’t. I know how it’s supposed to be now, yes, it’s work, but on some level, it’s also so easy. It’s some kind of peace and protection. The truth? We had sex and I was too scared to end the pregnancy because I was still a frightened little girl in more ways than one. I’m fucking lucky it ended great, I’m fucking lucky my boy is amazing, but you...” You press your index even further into his chest. “You know the truth. You have to live with that knowledge and to stay the fuck away from me and my family.”

“Or what? Your rich boyfriend will come after me?” Marvin tries to be sarcastic, but you can see some hint of fear in his eyes, in his tone even.

“Bruce coming after you is the easy way out, Marvin! Do you want to know one thing people never talk about? Motherhood makes you fucking crazy. ”

The kind of crazy he could never match.

The kind of crazy that would have you move mountains for your little boy and your little family.

The kind of crazy that would murder the monster he was.

That kind of crazy, no any other kind.

There’s a silence between the two of you next, as you stare each other down. Marvin looks positively scared next while you smile. You’re not scared of him, you’ve just told him, you’ve changed, and you’re not the lost girl who ran away from home and had no prospect of the future. You’ve lived, you’ve survived him, you have a family. A family you’re ready to defend.

...

Marvin is the one to back down first. He sighs, nods, he understands and he walks away, heading back inside the orphanage.

Good, you think, he got the message.

I told him. No, it didn’t go great. But he knows to stay away. Or else. Be here when I finish my shift? My mum is making lasagna, I’m sure she’ll love to have you around, I could use a family dinner ngl.

I will be here, you can count on me.

Good.

Collapsing into Bruce’s arms later that day feels like an out. Almost like cheating but you decide to ignore it, that and the voice in your head telling you that you’ve been so strong when he wasn’t there.

Was it all for show?

No, honestly, it wasn’t for show.

It was a real threat, a real warning, and now you’re seeking some comfort in your partner’s arms.

You’re almost small in Bruce’s arms, you disappear into his coat as he presses searing kisses to your mouth. Yes, you’re desperate for it, arms wrapped around his neck, you want to forget. You want his taste to replace the sour taste of your conversation with Marvin, you want to remember this. You. Bruce. The cold rain pouring over you both as he kisses you, the coffee you can taste on his tongue, his firm hands on your hips.

Bruce parts away because you have to breathe, otherwise, you know he would have spent hours here, kissing you right outside the orphanage, without absolutely no shame, you are more than aware of it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bruce manages to ask, as he catches his breath, a mere inches away from your face.

“Not even a little bit.” Your hands are cupping his defined jaw, one of the first things you noticed about him. You lick his chin next, then goes up, to the corner of his mouth. It’s enough for another messy and clumsy kiss like teenagers do as if you’re both on borrowed time, you’re not, you’re absolutely not.

“Come on, Bruce, let’s get out of here.”

This time, Orlando is with him and you salute the driver with a nod, more than happy to see him there. That means you can cozy up to Bruce in the backseat. The next stop is to the school, to pick up your son after his club, soccer you tell Bruce as you face the newly appointed guards at the school’s gate.

Large men in suits, like in the movies, one of them nods at Bruce, like they know each other (and they probably do) as finally, the children start pouring out of the school. Mostly boys but also a few girls in the same uniform, your son is last, soccer uniform in place, knees dirty with grass and mud. He’s talking with one of his classmates, and it all dies down as he spots you and Bruce. He hastily says goodbye to the other boy and then rushes to you two. He gets a hug from Bruce and yourself, the boy in both yours and Bruce’s arms as he doesn’t touch the ground anymore.

It’s familiar and easy, what you need you think as you head back to the car.

The rest of the evening is as comforting actually. You supervise bath time with the little boy while Bruce helps your mother in the kitchen. He looked a little bit lost there, she tells you later and you can not help but laugh, of course, he does, you’re not even sure Bruce would still be alive if it weren’t for Alfred. Despite Vengeance, his survival instincts are completely shit and the only thing you’ve ever seen made his coffee.

But still, it’s all good, soon enough, the smell in the kitchen is enticing, the table is set and you smile at the head of the small table, Bruce on the other side.

Bruce loves me, you told Marvin and it’s even more apparent now, as he’s in this little run-down apartment, listening to your son talk about his day, taking a second serving of lasagna as per your mother’s request because he’s just too damn pale, he surely needs the food.

This is what you needed, this is why you said yes to that normal boring job, this is what you try. For evenings like this, just this. It might not be much and maybe you should strive for more, and have more ambition for yourself, but fuck, aren’t you supposed to want some sort of peace? For yourself and your loved ones? Yes, you figure, that’s what you’re supposed to want.

You let Bruce help your son get ready for bed as you help clear the table. The leftovers go in the fridge and while your mother assures you you found a good one, all you can do is nod. You don’t even argue this time, you don’t want to.

It’s even easier to put the boy to bed and judging by the way he yawns, he will fall asleep in the next ten minutes or so, between the exercise and the warm meal, the little boy is half asleep by the time you press his goodnight kiss to his forehead. That makes Bruce laugh, he follows your gesture, making sure that the boy is well tucked in bed. And comfortable.

Yes, Bruce protects and cherishes that life as well, another reason for you to not let Marvin approach, he will not approach the little boy, you won’t let him.

The door of the bedroom is closed and you drag Bruce to your room, without thinking. Your mother is somewhere, probably finishing the cleaning or in front of the TV judging by the sound, but you don’t care the slightest.

Bruce loves me.

It rings true now more than ever and when the door of your bedroom is closed, it’s for you to push Bruce against it. He lets you do it, there’s no other explanation for your sudden strength. And judging by the smirk on Bruce’s face and the unsaid question, he lets you do it. You’re not that strong, you think as you press your small frame against his broad chest. Bruce shivers as you slot yourself perfectly against him, he bites his lower lip to fight back a moan, you’re not alone after all.

But you don’t care, your shoes are long gone, so it’s on your tiptoe that you beckon him for a kiss. Licking his Adam’s apple and Bruce is so quick to react, it’s fucking dizzying. One moment he tries to keep his breathing in check, the next, he’s cupping your face, shifting it to the perfect angle, and again he presses your mouths together. You seem to forget yourself and any sense of what you should and shouldn’t do after that.

You want Bruce, all of him, what he can provide and what he can do for you. The kisses are hungrier, and needier by the second, you find his shoulders, and pulling at the fabric of his large shirt, you manage to sneak a hand inside and craze at the skin. You find muscles you’ve already traced and you know by heart, and yet, you never get tired of feeling them against your fingertips, it’s enough for you to shiver. You tremble in anticipation, you’re ready, you want, you want, you want...

Bruce loves me.

That contact is enough and you gasp in Bruce's mouth when he hoists you up next. Easily, too easily, you cage him between your thighs, euphoric, grinding against him for some sort of friction. You need him, you need that release, you want to feel him, you need him so badly. You say it with the way your hips buck against his firm chest, you say it with your tongue smearing saliva on the corner of Bruce’s lips and going up to the shell of his ear, you say it with how tightly you keep him close, how you don’t want to be apart right now.

It’s messy and Bruce stumbles further more into your room, with you wrapped all around him like the best vice he can not get rid of. He shuffles around, towards your dressing table and you laugh, giddy, as with one swipe of his hand, Bruce discards some of your makeup, books, and wigs to the floor. It doesn’t matter as you finally collide against the dressing table, as you rest on it.

The rhythm doesn’t slow down there, you don’t know where the urgency comes from, but you welcome it, Bruce removes your top with shaky hands next, and you help him, your top is on the floor, your bra too, and then he discards his shirt. The next kiss as you see stars as your soft chest is pressed against the hard line that is Bruce, you want more, you want so much more. You bury your hand in his hair, pulling and this time when you buck against him, he has a low groan as you feel all the power of his arousal.

“I know,” he quickly follows it by your name. “I know, I want you too, but you have to be quiet, think you can be quiet for me, beautiful?” You want to moan a full and earnest yes, because of the nickname, the intense stare Bruce is giving you as he unbuckles his belt, it’s too much, but surely, it would defeat the purpose and his question. So you just nod, you nod and you watch as he lowers his pants and underwear, just enough, just a little bit, just to free himself and give you both that release you sorely need.

You lick your lips when he turns his attention to you, Bruce smirks as his hands slide underneath your skirt, to slide off your underwear. The Wayne almost does it too slowly, almost, blue eyes anchored into yours, his pale and long fingers dig into the skin of your thighs, then your knees, and then the underwear is past your ankles.

Bruce looks back up with so much of everything, you know you’re ready for him, you can feel it, so glad to be on solid ground, otherwise your knees would have given away because of how ready you feel. You are slick and so wet, just for him, you don’t even know if you’ve ever been this turned on, you can’t care right now. He doesn’t toss your underwear, no, he balls it into his fist and then he shoves it into the back pocket of his pants.

“Bruce!” you gasp, a blush creeping on your face, even though, out of the two of you, you’re the one with the experience, and yet, he surprises you.

“Shh, you said you could be quiet, right?” He whispers back, Bruce straightens his posture, beautiful just like he called you, hair falling over his forehead, bare chest and scars visible, his arousal on display. Just like that, he finds his space back between your legs, mouths colliding with yours. You don’t think anymore, your legs are around his waist the next second, arms around Bruce’s neck, it’s so close to what you need. So close your desperate pleas and moan are swallowed by Bruce’s tongue.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Bruce reassures you slowly, the line of his nose pressed against your temple next. He’s moving, you want to look down at what he’s doing, but soon enough, what the Wayne is doing is more than clear as he pushes right into you. He doesn’t pause, Bruce doesn’t wait, it’s slow and almost heavenly, just one thrust of his hips, one move of his body and you’re one once again.

Fucking finally, you think, head falling backward in pure bliss. His next move as you choke on a moan, because you are so full, so fucking full of him. Your nails are deep into his skin when Bruce moves once again, it’s a snap of his hips to get out and back into you, to carve a place for himself right there, right where you need him the most. You can’t even stop the next sound that manages to escape, even though you assured him you could be quiet. If you keep this up, the whole building will know what you’re up to, including everyone in this apartment.

Except that on the next thrust, Bruce clamps one big and warm hand over your mouth. Just like that, he silences you as your eyes fly back to his face, it’s a good thing because he puts more strength in the next push, it’s a good thing because your whole body tightens around him and you don’t want to let go.

“Shh, I know, I know...” Bruce mumbles, his mouth is still over your temple and his thumb strokes your cheek. Softly, like a brush, to reassure you. It’s a stark contrast to what he is doing with the rest of his body, to the movement of his hips as Bruce soon enough builds some sort of pace. And it’s too good, so good you relax all around him, you let him dictate the pace, silence you, have you, fill you up as you just hold on. That’s all you can do as he fucks into you. Gently, slowly, his breathing hard and loud, filling the room. There are no other words for it, this is fucking, you two have made love before, but this is so not what this is about.

This is about want and lust, this is about filling a need, the need of your bodies, and being there for each other. It’s primal, it’s essential, it’s more vital than air, it’s, it’s, it’s... It’s perfect, finishes your mind at one punishing thrust, the dressing table wobbles slightly and Bruce has to put more pressure on your mouth to keep you quiet.

You want it, you want that, all of that, and the next moments, Bruce grinds into you with more force, and the dressing table trembles again, and again. Maybe he’ll break it, you don’t fucking care.

This is what you want, this is what you need.

And when you break, when you tip over the edge, it's just like that, with Bruce into you, pressed to the hilt, and you tremble, as your orgasm washes over you. Bruce is quick to follow you, you feel it, right inside of you, and he whispers your name all over, hips slightly shifting.

But finally, he doesn't move anymore, finally, he frees your mouth and you take a deep breath. Only to whine as Bruce pulls out. He looks down at the mess you two made, between your legs, and then back up to you, with a small smirk on his face.

"God, I fucking love you," Bruce says in a rough voice.

And you barely have time to recover, that he's already kissing you.

#batman x reader #the batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x you #story: after hours

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