Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The warmth from the blanket wrapped you whole. You felt the air from the fan above, which only made you want to bury yourself deeper into bed. As soon as you got a small sliver of sun coming in from behind the curtains, you groaned, annoyed. It was definitely too early for a weekend.
Suddenly, you felt an arm sneak around your waist. Freezing for a moment, you quickly spun yourself around. Bruce faced you, smiling softly at you as his other hand reached up and moved a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Good morning.” He greeted, his voice deep and rough from the sleepiness still present.
“You’re here?” You were excited, but couldn’t help the curiosity.
“I am. I got in early this morning.” His hands roamed your side, creating circles around your hip.
You looked at him suspiciously. “Early?”
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Before sunrise.” His fingers drifted up your side, slow and absentminded. “You were sleeping so peacefully,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“How did you get in?”
“The window.” He said casually.
“The window?” you repeated.
He nodded once, entirely unbothered. “You really should lock it.”
“I do lock it.”
“Not the one above the fire escape.”
You blinked. “…You checked?”
His smirk deepened, maddeningly calm. “I make it a habit to know entry points.”
“That’s not comforting,” you muttered. “That’s deeply concerning.”
He leaned in slightly, brushing his nose against your temple. “Relax. It was quiet.”
“That is not the point, Bruce.”
He only looked amused, like scaling a building at four in the morning was equivalent to picking up coffee. His fingers continued tracing slow circles against your hip, entirely at odds with the fact that he had apparently entered your apartment like a very well-dressed cat burglar.
“You climbed up here before sunrise,” you said flatly.
“Yes.”
“In a suit?”
A pause. “Mostly.”
You stared at him. “Mostly?”
His gaze flickered with that telltale almost-grin. “I changed downstairs.”
“You what?”
“There’s a balcony.”
You pushed yourself up on one elbow, trying to process the image of Bruce Wayne—billionaire, philanthropist, mysterious night creature—perched on your balcony at dawn, quietly shedding tactical gear like this was a completely normal boyfriend activity.
“You are unbelievable.”
“I was discreet.”
“You broke into my apartment.”
“I entered.”
“Through a window.”
“Yes.”
“That is the definition of breaking in.”
He brushed his thumb along your waist, soothing, persuasive. “I didn’t break anything.” His voice was light, but his smile soon dropped as he looked at you, contemplating something. “Move in with me.”
“What?”
He didn’t look amused now. No playful glint. No billionaire-cat-burglar charm. Just Bruce. Watching you carefully.
“Come to the manor,” he said quietly. “Stay there. With me.”
You blinked, brain still buffering. “You’re proposing cohabitation because I yelled at you for breaking in.”
His mouth twitched faintly. “That’s not why.”
“Because that feels like escalation.”
He shifted slightly, his hand no longer wandering, just resting against your waist—steady. Grounding. “I wanna do this more often,” he said quietly. “I wanna be here in the morning with you.”
You searched his face. There was still exhaustion there, faint shadows beneath his eyes, but something else too—something almost shy. He was nervous.
“You would really want me to move in? You do realize that is a pretty serious commitment?” you said carefully.
“I’m aware.”
“You would really want me to move in?” you pressed. “Because that’s not just sharing a closet. That’s… life. Your life.”
“Yes.”
You pushed yourself up slightly so you could see him better. The early light traced the sharp lines of his face, softened by sleep. No cowl. No mask. Just a man who looked almost hesitant.
“You disappear at night,” you said gently. “You come back bruised. You carry things you don’t talk about. Moving in means I see all of that. All the time.”
“I know.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I’m more concerned if you are.”
“I mean, I would love to have more reasons to see you, be a part of your life in whatever way you needed. I just didn’t want you to feel rushed into anything you weren’t comfortable with.”
Bruce frowned, taking in her words differently this time. “I’ve never felt rushed with you; if anything, you’ve been incredibly patient with me.”
You shrugged shyly, and the nerves of some insecurity started to kick in. “I guess I just wanted you to be sure.”
That made him go still. Not tense. Not guarded. Just very, very focused. “About you?” he asked quietly.
“Us,” you clarified, softer now.
The word lingered between you like something fragile. Bruce’s hand slid from your waist up to your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye. Slow. Intentional. He didn’t look confused. He looked almost startled that you could doubt it.
“I have been sure about you for a long time,” he said.
You searched his face automatically, hunting for hesitation. Bruce Wayne was excellent at control. At precision. But he had never been good at faking this kind of sincerity.
“You don’t exactly say things like that,” you murmured.
“I know.”
“That’s kind of the problem.”
A faint crease formed between his brows. “You think I’m unsure?”
“I think you’re careful,” you corrected gently. “And sometimes careful looks a lot like distant.”
He absorbed that. Really absorbed it. No defensive edge. No billionaire pride. “When I rush,” he said slowly, “people get hurt.”
Your chest tightened at that. “I’m not asking you to rush,” you said. “I just… don’t want to be something you’re still deciding on.”
His thumb stilled against your cheek.
“You are not a question mark in my life.” He said sternly. “You’re not a variable I’m calculating,” he continued. “You’re not something I’m testing.” The intensity in his eyes made your pulse jump. “When I ask you to move in,” he said quietly, “it’s not impulse. It’s because I already know.”
You swallowed. “Know what?”
“That I want you there. I want you in my home. In my mornings. In my life.” No flourish. No grand speech. Just truth. “You think I’m hesitant about you,” he added, voice softer now. “I’m hesitant about failing you.”
“Bruce…”
“I don’t doubt us,” he said firmly. “I doubt my ability to give you everything you deserve.”
You shifted closer, pressing your palm flat against his chest, grounding him the way he’d grounded you earlier. “I’m not asking for everything,” you said quietly. “I’m asking for you.”
His jaw flexed slightly, like that was somehow harder.
You leaned in and kissed him softly, lingering. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. “I don’t need perfection,” you whispered. “I just need honesty.”
“You have it.”
You leaned forward, kissing him again—slow, grounding, intentional. When you pulled back, your hand stayed against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm there.
“Then we take it one step at a time,” you murmured. “Not because you’re afraid of failing. Not because I’m afraid of being temporary. But because we want to build something that lasts.”
“I can do that,” he said.
“Good.”
You shifted closer under the blanket, tangling your legs with his, settling back into the warmth. “And for the record,” you added lightly, “if I move into that manor, I’m installing better lighting.”
His brow lifted slightly. “It has lighting.”
“It has shadows.”
A faint smirk returned. “Noted.”
You tucked your face against his shoulder, feeling him relax in a way he rarely allowed himself to. And this—sunlight, warmth, the quiet promise of choosing each other—felt like a very good place to start.
It was just a dumb fight; it wasn’t supposed to blow up in your faces like that, but your boyfriend was so stubborn, and it would threaten his confidence in the relationship sometimes. He always brought up the whole, you're not safe with him, he’ll end up ruining your life, or worse, end up like his mother…
That one got you. He never brought up Thomas or Martha Wayne, and you knew better than to ask. It had been almost a week since that fight, since he walked in from his nighttime activities, since he ignored your touch and your questions, brushing you off with the excuse that he needed to work on something. Although you knew better. Something happened, something got to him, and he was pretending like it wasn’t affecting him, like he wasn’t using it as an excuse to pretend to be busy.
Soon enough, the frustration kicked in, and then the argument started. The beginning of the flight was mostly him reminding you why this was dangerous, why you need to start waiting for him up in the manor, and not down here in the cave. You argue back how you’re a grown ass adult, and the cave was the safest place for you to be. He rolled his eyes, still talking and still going on about this unsafe life he dragged you into.
The argument grew, and in the end. He made you leave…
Now here you were, face down in your bed at the apartment you barely ever stayed overnight in since being with Bruce. This place was used for your daytime life, but Wayne Manor was for nighttime.
The apartment felt wrong. Too quiet. No distant hum of the Batcomputer. No Alfred moving somewhere in the background. No low, familiar thud of boots hitting the cave floor. Just the muted city outside your window and the ache in your chest.
You’d replayed the argument so many times it had started to blur.
You’re not safe here.This life ruins people.I can’t lose you, too.
That was the part he wouldn’t say plainly. Instead, he dressed it up as control. As logic. As a strategy.
You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t make you leave because he didn’t love you. He made you leave because he did.
Which somehow made it worse.
Your phone had been silent all week. No calls. No texts. Not even a dry, formal check-in. Bruce Wayne could disappear into silence like it was oxygen. Pride and pain were a dangerous combination in that man.
A soft buzz against your nightstand nearly made you jump out of your skin. You grabbed it too fast.
Not Bruce.
Alfred.
You hesitated before answering. “Hi.”
“Good evening,” Alfred said, voice calm but edged with something deliberate. “I do apologize for the hour.”
“It’s fine.”
A pause.
“Alfred, if you’re calling about-“
“You.” He interrupted. “I’m calling to check on you, and how you’re feeling.”
“Really?” You couldn’t help the surprise in your voice.
“Master Wayne has been checked on plenty this week. You, however, have not. So I am calling to see, how are you?” His intent warmed your heart, and the urge to rant to someone about this suddenly came on.
“I miss him.”
Alfred didn’t say anything at first, then you heard him let out a breath of relief. “I must admit, I am very relieved to hear you say that.”
You let out a humorless laugh, scrubbing a hand over your face. “That doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at him.”
“I would be concerned if you were not,” Alfred replied smoothly.
You huffed. “He doesn’t get to decide what risks I take. He doesn’t get to exile me like I’m some civilian liability.”
“No,” Alfred agreed gently. “He does not. Had he discussed why he was in a mood that night?”
You scoffed. “He never likes to talk about his nights.”
Silence settled between you, thick but not uncomfortable. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky, low and restless.
“He came back from patrol that night different,” Alfred added. “There was an incident—a family caught in crossfire. The child survived. The parents did not.”
Your breath hitched.
“He will not say it aloud,” Alfred continued, “but I suspect the resemblance was… difficult.”
Thomas and Martha.
Of course it was.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
You exhaled shakily. “He thinks if he keeps me at arm’s length, I won’t end up in an alley.”
“He thinks,” Alfred corrected, “that if he anticipates loss, it will hurt less.”
A crack of thunder split the sky outside your apartment, loud enough to rattle the glass. Rain began in earnest, heavy and relentless, like Gotham itself was tired of holding things in.
“He hasn’t been home,” Alfred added quietly. “Not truly. He patrols. He trains. He works. But he has not been home.”
“Not even now?” You asked curiously.
“No, left a while ago. Although he wasn’t wearing his nighttime suit.”
“He went out as a civilian?” You propped up from the bed this time.
“Looks like it, he could be at the office-
“I’ll go check!” You said suddenly, already grabbing your shoes.
“Are you sure? It’s still raining, I can drive by and check myself.”
You had already grabbed your keys, long raincoat, and were heading out the door. “No, I got this.”
The rain hit you like a wall the second you stepped outside. Cold. Immediate. Soaking through fabric in seconds. By the time you slid into your car, your sleeves were damp, and your pulse was racing. Civilian clothes. That meant he wasn’t out chasing criminals.
You drove faster than you probably should have, windshield wipers fighting a losing battle against the sheets of rain. Wayne Tower loomed ahead, all glass and steel and sharp ambition cutting into a storm-heavy sky. You parked right out front, insatanly feeling the harsh wind and rain once you stepped out of your car.
The lobby itself was dark; nobody was in sight, and the nighttime security guard was likely on his walkaround. Peeking inside, you tried to look around for any glimpse of the overnight guard. No luck.
You tried the door.
Locked.
Rain plastered your hair to your face, wind whipping your coat around your legs like Gotham itself was trying to drag you back to your car. You pressed your forehead briefly against the cold glass, peering into the dark lobby.
“Seriously?” you muttered.
Lightning flashed, and for a split second, the entire atrium lit up in stark white. Marble floors. Empty security desk. No movement. Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. You circled toward the side entrance—the one you’d used a handful of times when Bruce didn’t want to make a spectacle of arriving. The keypad glowed faintly in the storm.
You hesitated. Then punched in the code he’d given you months ago. You silently cheered when you heard the click of it unlocking.
Once inside, you felt the building's warmth consume you. The rain had gone through your coat, pants, shirt, and socks. You were shivering slightly, but tried to ignore it as you sprinted towards the elevator. The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime as you stepped inside, dripping onto the polished marble, forming a huge puddle. The doors closed, sealing you in with your reflection.
You looked unhinged.
Mascara smudged faintly under your eyes. Hair plastered to your cheeks. The coat is clinging to you, and the clothes underneath are completely soaked through. The elevator climbed.
When the doors opened to the executive floor, the hallway was dim, only a few overhead lights casting long shadows across the sleek glass walls. Gotham flickered outside the windows—lightning splitting the sky, rain streaking sideways.
His office door was cracked open. You walked up to it and gently pushed it open.
He stood near the windows, back to you, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up. One hand braced against the glass as if he could somehow hold the city steady through sheer willpower.
He didn’t turn around. “You’re going to catch pneumonia.”
You froze. “Alfred told you,” you said.
“I told him not to.”
“And when has that ever worked?”
That earned a faint exhale that might have been a laugh. He finally turned, and whatever retort he had ready died in his throat.
You were soaked. Completely. Water pooling at your feet, coat dripping steadily onto the expensive rug. Your chest rising and falling too fast. Eyes bright with frustration and something softer underneath.
“You’re completely soaked.” He said, frowning.
You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s raining if you hadn’t noticed.”
He walked over to his office chair, grabbed the blazer hanging from it, then opened one of his drawers and pulled out a black shirt. Walking over to you, he gently stated, unbuttoning your coat. “You need to get this off, you're going to get sick.”
You pushed his hands away, which made him clench his jaw. “I waited,” you said. Your voice wasn’t sharp now. It was worse—thin and honest. “I gave you space. I let you brood. I let you pretend you were just busy. A week, Bruce.”
His hands stilled where you’d shoved them away. His gaze dropped to your soaked clothes again. The shirt is clinging to you. The trembling you were pretending wasn’t happening.
He stepped closer this time and didn’t stop.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m mad,” you said.
“You’re freezing.”
“Also that.”
Despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitched. It vanished just as fast.
He lifted the dry shirt again, slower now. “Let me help.”
You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want him to. Because you didn’t want this to be a distraction. You didn’t want him to default to problem-solving instead of feeling. He got the last button, tugging off the drenched sleeves, and finally got the coat off.
“You don’t get to decide for both of us. You don’t get to push me away to pre-grieve me.”
His eyes flicked up to yours. That word hit exactly where you meant it to. He didn’t answer; he only helped you pull your wet shirt over your head.
“I am not your parents,” you continued softly. “And you are not doomed to repeat that alley.”
His movements stilled, holding the black shirt in his hands as he looked down at you sadly. You didn’t say anything, continuing to grab the shirt from his hands and pull it over your head. It fell to the middle of your thighs, the small bit of warmth helping slightly. You took off your shoes and socks, then slipped out of your pants, pushing them aside.
He still hadn’t spoken. Watching the rainwater still drip slowly down your legs. He grabbed the blazer, wrapping it around your shoulders and letting you slip your arms into the sleeves. You were still shivering, so he started to run his hands up and down your arms.
His touch was gentle, measured—not commanding, not fix-it, just grounding. Even with no contact all week and him trying to avoid you, his actions still reflected his protective and caring manner.
You stood there in his shirt, rainwater still tracing down your legs, hair dripping onto the hardwood. Gotham thundered beyond the glass, but inside the office, it felt like the air had thinned.
“You think you’re going to lose me,” you said softly.
His jaw flexed. “I know how this city works.”
“And I know how you work,” you shot back, but gentler now. “You see patterns and assume they’re fate.”
“That alley wasn’t random.”
“No,” you agreed. “But it wasn’t prophecy either.”
He ran a hand over his face, exhaustion carving deeper lines into him. “You didn’t see that kid.”
“I didn’t need to,” you said. “I’ve seen you. You carry that night like it’s a loaded weapon,” you continued. “Like if you ever relax your grip, it’ll fire again.”
Lightning flashed, painting him in silver for half a heartbeat. He looked so tired.
“I can survive losing sleep,” he said quietly. “I can survive broken bones. I cannot survive losing you.”
You stepped forward, closing the last inch of space between you. His hands hovered before settling carefully at your waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of his own shirt on your skin.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said. “You don’t get to decide that I’d rather live small and safe than live fully with you.”
His fingers tightened slightly. “This isn’t small,” he argued. “It’s survival.”
“It’s fear.”
“I am afraid,” he admitted.
There it was. No armor. No strategy. Just truth. You reached up, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “Good. That means it matters.”
Rain lashed harder against the windows.“I don’t want to push you away,” he said. “I just don’t know how to love you without imagining the worst possible ending.”
“Then stop writing the ending before we’ve lived the middle,” you replied.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair before letting it drop to rest on the small of your back, just enough to anchor you without crowding. “I don’t know how to…” His words faltered, and for the first time, he didn’t finish the sentence.
“That’s fine,” you whispered, letting your hands settle on his chest, feeling the steadiness of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to know. Just… let me be here with you.”
For a long moment, he said nothing, and the quiet between you was heavy but safe. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. The warmth from his body seeped through.
“You’re reckless,” he murmured against your lips. “And infuriating.”
“And you’re stubborn,” you shot back softly, managing the faintest smile.
He pressed a hand to your cheek, brushing away stray strands of wet hair. “And I… care more than I should admit.”
You let out a humorless laugh that held more relief than amusement. “Welcome to mutual suffering, then.”
He chuckled quietly, a sound rough around the edges, but real. “I think I can survive mutual suffering… if it means this,” he whispered, pulling you closer, letting the blazer wrap you in warmth while his hands traced slow, careful lines down your arms.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes searching. “You ran through a thunderstorm to find me.”
“You think I was going to sit in that apartment and let you spiral alone?” you asked.
A faint, broken smile flickered across his face. “That was not my preferred outcome.”
“Yeah, well. You don’t get to control every outcome.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Not defensive. Not qualified. Just sorry.
Your throat tightened. “I know.”
He kissed you then—slow, steady, grounding. Not desperate. Not panicked. Just present. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, like he was finally allowing himself to hold you without any hesitation.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again.
“You’re still freezing,” he murmured.
You smirked faintly. “Then stop talking, and do something about it.”
He smiled back, his lips brushing just against yours. “Yes, ma'am.”
A/n: over halfway through our countdown till February 14! Thanks for the love of the stories, and I’m finally getting caught up with editing since being sick. Thanks for being patient with me, and enjoy the next few days. 💕💕💕
You swirled the champagne aimlessly in your hand, staring out and over the ballroom below. People were chatting and laughing, enjoying the background music and the expensive food and drinks being passed around by waiters.
The party was lively, but you were always bored. Nobody was here; you felt you could talk to someone who would give you a second glance, or even have anything in common. These people cared only about how much money they could spend or how much they could brag about their ‘generous’ donations.
You showed up because your friend Lois said the host was different from the people with deep pockets that you had met. He was supposed to pique your interest, so you got on a simple dress and heels, and tried to find this man.
She told you he was kind and actually cared about his city and the things he was doing for his company. Doing the research yourself, you saw she was right. The Wayne Foundation has been doing all kinds of impressive things for a long time, and it was only getting better for the city. The man of the hour hadn’t been seen yet, however. He apparently had a reputation for arriving fashionably late, even to his own parties.
The donation results for the new children's hospital will be announced soon. That would be your cue to leave, making sure to take a drink on your way out.
Taking the trip out to Gotham for some rich party, even if it was for a good cause, seemed like just another waste of time spent here and not back in Bludhaven in your office. Although your donation would be anonymous, it was sometimes entertaining to see the look on the faces of these so-called people of the city fakers when they didn't see their name at the top of the list.
“Thinking about jumping?”
The voice came from behind you—low, smooth, threaded with amusement.
You didn’t turn right away. “From the balcony?”
“If the evening is that dull.”
You glanced over your shoulder.
Bruce Wayne stood there, hands in his pockets, as he had nowhere else in the world to be. Tuxedo flawless. Expression relaxed. But his eyes were sharper than the tabloids ever gave him credit for. He leaned over the balcony next to you, his arm brushing subtly against yours.
“Are you a reporter?” He asked, his eyes kept directly on you.
You let the question hang there for a second, like you were considering whether it deserved an honest answer.
“Do I look like one?” you replied, finally turning your head just enough to meet his gaze.
Bruce’s eyes dragged over you once—measured, not inappropriate. Assessing. “I suppose if you aren’t down there talking to the suits, you’re not.”
“Why did you doubt then?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.
“I was still assessing.” He said quickly.
“I’m just here for the party like everyone else is, Mr. Wayne.” You said casually, looking back out at the crowd below.
“Are you?” he asked.
The question wasn’t flirty. It was precise.
You took a slow sip before answering. “Isn’t that what one does at a party?”
“Most people here are networking,” Bruce said. “Or angling for a photo. Or calculating tax write-offs.”
“And you?” you asked.
“I’m observing.”
You huffed softly. “From the balcony?”
“Best vantage point in the room.”
You let your gaze sweep the crowd again. Gotham’s elite clustered in polished little ecosystems—politicians orbiting donors, CEOs orbiting cameras. Predators in tuxedos.
“And what have you observed about me?” you asked.
He didn’t hesitate. “You haven’t spoken to anyone longer than thirty seconds. You declined two business cards without looking at them. And you’re wearing something understated enough that no one would assume you belong at the top of the donor list.”
You smiled faintly. “That’s a lot of attention for someone who just arrived.”
“I was here earlier.”
“Of course you were.”
He angled his body slightly toward you. Close, but not crowding. “You’re not impressed by money.”
“I have nothing against money,” you said evenly. “I just prefer it quiet.”
That made something flicker behind his eyes.
You sighed, setting the now-empty drink aside. “I was told you were different from those suits down there. I came here to find out for myself.”
“What have you decided?” His voice barley above a whisper.
“Considering you're still up here talking with me instead of chatting up and laughing with those flashy suits down there who would die for the attention from you, I suppose you aren’t much of an attention seeker as the press puts you out to be.” You kept your eyes on him, watching his microexpressions closely.
He smirked. “I would never miss the opportunity to speak with a beautiful woman. “He winked, his tone was flirty, but his eyes…
“You don’t have to do that.” You smiled sadly.
“Do what?”
“Pretend to be what they made you.”
He blinked, just for a fraction of a second—enough for the carefully curated playboy mask to falter. “Pretend?” His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain. “I don’t… pretend.”
You leaned slightly on the railing, letting your gaze soften. “You do, Mr Wayne. Everyone expects Wayne to be flashy, charming, untouchable… a headline. I don’t know if I fully understand why you play into the character they made you, but I’m sure you have your reasons, just like I have mine for staying away from any prying eyes as much as I can.” You let your words settle in him. You could feel him watching you as you looked out at the gathering crowd.
He exhaled slowly, just enough for the tension in his jaw to ease, though his eyes never left yours. “Maybe… it’s easier that way,” he murmured, voice low, almost a confession. “To be the image they expect. It keeps the city guessing, keeps people off balance. Keeps me… protected.”
You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “Protected from what?”
“From them,” he said simply, gesturing vaguely toward the crowd below. “From people who see Bruce Wayne and think they know everything about him—about me. It’s a mask, yes, but sometimes masks are necessary.”
You let that hang for a moment, letting him feel the weight of your understanding. “I know about masks,” you said softly, a faint smile teasing your lips. “I’ve worn mine for years. People think they see me, but they don’t. And some of them don’t deserve to.”
His gaze sharpened slightly, curiosity flickering in those dark eyes. “And what’s your mask, then?”
You let out a soft, mirthless laugh. “Let’s just say I don’t wear my fortune on my sleeve. I prefer to move quietly, make an impact, and stay unseen.”
Before he had a chance to push further, the emcee stepped up to the microphone. A hush rolled across the ballroom.
“And now,” the man announced, “the final numbers for the Gotham Children’s Hospital expansion.”
The screen behind the stage lit up. Donations scrolled in ascending order, applause rising politely with each name.
Wayne Enterprises — 40 million.
Cheers. Cameras.
You kept your expression neutral.
Then the final slot appeared.
Anonymous — 250 million.
The room didn’t just quiet.
It stalled.
A quarter of a billion dollars.
Bruce whipped his head to you, watching for any slip-up in expression, any type of satisfaction. If it was there, he couldn’t catch it.
“Generous donation.” He said carefully.
“Yes, it was.”
“Even beat me out.”
“Yep.”
For a moment, Bruce said nothing, simply watching the ripple of reactions across the ballroom—the shocked donors, the whispered speculation, the flustered socialites trying to hide their chagrin. And then he turned his eyes back to you, a slow, appreciative grin spreading. “I think I’ve finally met my match.”
Bruce’s gaze lingered on you, quiet and searching, and you felt that charged stillness—the unspoken pull of something neither of you wanted to let go of just yet.
He straightened, though slowly, as if every movement away from you required effort. “I should… mingle,” he murmured, but his eyes didn’t leave yours.
You let a faint, teasing smile tug at your lips. “Of course… but don’t let the suits eat you alive.”
A small chuckle escaped him, soft, almost fond. “I’ll try not to,” he said. Then his tone shifted, lower, more intimate. “I hope… this isn’t the last time we talk like this.”
You felt the weight of the words, and the pull of the promise behind them. “I hope not,” you admitted, letting your voice carry just enough warmth to match the tension in his gaze.
He took a single step back, just enough to leave space between you, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “Then I’ll make sure the next time… I don’t let anyone—or anything—interrupt it.”
You nodded, a thrill of anticipation running through you. “I’ll hold you to that,” you said softly.
Bruce smiled genuinely, holding out his hand. You slipped your hand in his. “Until next time,” you echoed, watching as he slowly raised your hand to kiss your knuckles, the subtle touch of his thumb moving in circles, not going unnoticed. With a final, lingering look, Bruce turned to descend the stairs, slipping through the crowd as he belonged to both the shadows and the light. You stayed at the balcony, heart racing, fingers brushing the railing as you watched his mask slip back on.
“What are you doing?” Diana came out of nowhere, causing you to jump. “Sorry,” she giggled. “On edge?”
You shook her off. “Nah, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.” Looking up from your chair, you pulled your legs up in a crisscross.
“Shiera and I are going out; you should come with us.” Leaning against the desk, she looked up at the monitors. “What are you watching?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing has happened. I’ve been staring at the screens just waiting for something to happen, or someone to need backup.”
Diana smiled knowingly. The kind that suggested she didn’t believe you for “Mm,” she hummed, eyes still on the monitors. “You’re sitting in Batman’s chair.”
You blinked. Looked down. Then groaned softly and scooted back like it had just bitten you. “That—okay, that explains the tension.”
She laughed, warm and unbothered. “Relax. He won’t mind.”
You doubted that very much, but you didn’t argue. Instead, your gaze drifted back to the screens on instinct—one in particular, paused on the only video showing the hallway right outside the room.
Diana followed your eyes. Suddenly, it seemed to click for her. “You’re waiting for him,” she said gently.
You stiffened. “I’m not.”
She didn’t tease you. That somehow made it worse. “You are,” she said, calm and certain. “And you’re trying very hard not to.”
You rolled your eyes. “I just… things feel weird lately. He’s been—different.”
“Different how?”
You hesitated. “Like he’s always watching where I stand, how close I am to the edge. Like I’m made of glass. I know he thinks he's being subtle, and maybe to the untrained eye he is, but I feel his gaze on me all the time now.”
Diana tilted her head. “All the time?”
“Early this week at the League meeting, Yesterday as he was talking with Superman, and this morning when I passed the lunch room.” You waved your hands towards the screens. “This is the only place in the Watchtower I can watch him without him watching me.”
Diana raised an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “So, you're stalking him.”
You shot her a look. “I am conducting… observational research.”
“Mmhmm.” She folded her arms, clearly enjoying herself now. “And what have you observed?”
You sighed, shoulders slumping. “That I’m probably reading into things. That I’m projecting. That I’ve officially lost my mind and should stop borrowing Batman’s chair before I get emotionally fined.”
Diana’s amusement softened. “You are not wrong about one thing,” she said. “Bruce is watching you.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed, but why?”
Diana stared at you for a moment, hesitating on whether she should tell you why she thinks why. “He likes you.” She said simply, testing your reaction.
You looked up at her, your expression unmoving for a moment. Then you burst out in laughter. It came out too loud, too sudden, the kind that scrapes at your throat because it’s covering something fragile underneath.
“Okay,” you said between breaths, wiping at the corner of your eye. “Sure. Right. Batman. Likes me. Next, you’re going to tell me the Batmobile runs on good intentions.”
Diana didn’t laugh with you.
That made the sound die in your chest.
She stayed exactly where she was, arms still folded, expression calm but intent. Not amused. Not teasing, “You don’t believe me,” she said.
You shook your head, still smiling. “I believe you think that. I just don’t think you’re right.”
“Why?”
You shrugged, looking back at the screens so you wouldn’t have to look at her. “Because Bruce Wayne does not do… this. Not with me. I’m not—” You gestured vaguely. “I’m not what he goes for. And even if he did feel something, he’d never act on it.”
“That’s a different argument,” Diana said quietly.
You frowned. “What is?”
“Whether he likes you,” she replied, “and whether he allows himself to want you.”
You turned back to her, smile finally gone. “You’re saying he’s just… what. Staring longingly into the middle distance and suffering in silence?”
“I’m saying,” Diana said, stepping closer, voice low, “that Bruce Wayne does not watch people the way he watches you unless it matters. He’s yearning.”
“You did not just say that.”
Diana’s lips twitched. “I did.”
You stared at her, trying to figure out if she was just messing with you. “Batman does not yearn. He broods. He plans. He disappears dramatically. Yearning implies feelings with poor time management.”
“And yet,” Diana said serenely, “here we are.”
You scoffed, turning back to the monitors. “You’re romanticizing it. He’s vigilant. He’s protective. He’s—”
“He’s distracted,” she cut in gently. “He lingers when you leave rooms. He adjusts patrol routes to pass by you. He listens when you speak as if the words matter more than the data.”
Your throat tightened. “That’s circumstantial.”
Diana leaned closer, voice lowering. “Yesterday, during training, you tripped. Barely. You recovered in less than a second.”
You nodded. “Yeah?”
“He took three steps toward you before he realized everyone was watching.”
You went still. “That’s not—” You stopped. Restarted. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I am not,” she said calmly. “Clark noticed. Barry noticed. I noticed. Bruce noticed too—which is why he’s been trying so hard not to.”
You swallowed. “Why would he do that?”
“Because wanting you scares him,” Diana said without hesitation. “Because he believes caring makes him reckless. Because he thinks if he keeps it unspoken, it can’t cost you anything.”
On the screen, the hallway feed flickered; a familiar silhouette entered frame. Your breath caught before you could stop it.
Batman slowed as he approached the control room—actually slowed—like he was debating whether to keep walking. Like he’d already passed this way once. Maybe twice.
Diana glanced at the monitor, then back at you. “That,” she said softly, “is yearning.”
“I don’t—” Your voice faltered. You cleared your throat. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
“Do nothing,” Diana said. “Or do something. Either way, the truth remains.”
The doors slid open.
Bruce stepped inside, already mid-thought. “Diana, have you seen—”
He stopped, his gaze locked onto you. “…you,” he finished quietly.
Bruce froze, staring between the two of you suspiciously.
Diana smiled serenely. “I’ll leave you two,” she said, already turning away. “Try not to break anything important.”
You rolled your eyes, watching as the doors slid shut behind her with a soft, decisive shhkk. Silence rushed in to fill the space.
Bruce cleared his throat. “You were… in my chair.”
You winced. “I know. I’m sorry. It had lumbar support.” What a horrible lie you thought.
That earned you the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile—Batman didn’t smile. He moved closer, slow and careful, like you were the skittish one. “Is everything all right?”
There was a moment of hesitation, wondering if you might say nothing and ignore everything you and Diana had just talked about. Yet.. what she said.
He’s yearning.
“Do you want to get coffee with me?” You said before you could think about it.
Bruce stopped again. This time, completely.
“…Coffee,” he repeated, as if he didn’t hear you right.
“Yes,” you said, nodding once, firm. “Or tea. Or dinner. Or one of those aggressively silent walks you do on rooftops. I’m flexible.”
Something in his expression shifted—focus narrowing, walls rearranging. You could practically hear the gears locking into place, every instinct he had screaming to control the variables. You were one of them now. Your palms started to sweat.
“You’re asking me out,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Bluntly.”
“I know you like to just get to the point,” you replied.
He studied you the way he studied a crime scene—eyes flicking, cataloging micro-expressions, posture, breathing. Not suspicion. Assessment. As if he were trying to determine whether this was a trap or a joke of some kind.
“You shouldn’t,” he said at last.
You sighed. “There it is.”
“It complicates things,” he went on, voice even, too even. “My work. Your safety.”
“I fight aliens on a semi-regular basis,” you said dryly. “If coffee is what takes me out, that’s embarrassing for everyone involved.”
That almost did it. Almost. His jaw tightened, gaze dropping to the floor for half a second before lifting back to you. “I’m serious.”
“I know,” you said. Your voice softened. “That’s why I’m asking anyway.”
Silence stretched again, thick and humming. The Watchtower lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere far away, something beeped. Neither of you moved.
“You don’t understand what being close to me costs,” Bruce said quietly.
You took a step toward him. Just one. Close enough now that you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes. “I understand enough to choose it,” you said. “I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking for coffee. One hour. Public place. No capes, no masks, no existential dread unless it shows up uninvited.”
His mouth curved despite himself. A real one this time. Small. Unguarded. Gone almost as soon as it appeared.
“You’re very ambitious,” he said.
“Careful,” you replied. “That sounded like admiration.”
His breath left him in a slow exhale.“Tomorrow,” he said finally.
You blinked. “Tomorrow?”
“Coffee,” he clarified. “There’s a place in Gotham. Quiet. No reporters. Decent espresso.” A pause. “I’ve vetted it.”
“Of course you have,” you said, smiling. “Would’ve been worried if you hadn’t.”
He nodded once, decision made, consequences acknowledged and accepted. Then, softer, almost to himself: “Diana’s going to be unbearable.”
You laughed, the tension finally cracking. “She earned it.”
Bruce turned to leave, stopping just before the doors slid open. He looked back at you, eyes warm beneath the cowl.
“For the record,” he said, voice low, “this was not part of the plan.”
You smiled. “Yeah. That’s usually how the good parts start.”
His gaze lingered on you. “Tomorrow,” he repeated, quieter this time.
Then he was gone, the doors sliding shut with a soft, final shhkk—leaving you alone in the control room, pulse racing, palms damp, and a laugh caught in your chest.
Batman didn’t yearn.
But Bruce Wayne was definitely getting coffee with you tomorrow.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A/n: I let this one really get away from me. I didn’t expect it to be so long…
Blankets of snow covered Gotham. This whole week was non-stop fall, and it was only getting worse. Most people had already opted to stay indoors, making Gotham the most peaceful it had been in a long time.
Not even criminals thought it was worth going out in this mess. Roads had already been impossible to drive in and news stations had already advised that, unless necessary, stay home.
Staying home, that would’ve been a great idea. Although now, instead of home, you were stuck in Wayne Manor.
Before the storm hit, you were supposed to go over some Justice League business with Batman. Instead of having the meeting at the Watchtower, he invited you to his home, which was a surprise since you thought he didn’t like you.
Flash said he didn’t like anyone, but you knew that wasn’t necessarily the case. He just got annoyed with some people more than others, and for a while, you believed you were a part of the more annoyed list than the less annoyed.
When you arrived at the manor, Alfred greeted you with a welcoming smile. He had made snacks and brought you something to drink while you waited for Bruce to arrive.
Once he did, Alfred escorted you down to the bat cave, and to say you were found speechless was an understatement. The cave was fascinating to look at, and the technology he had was far better than what was released to the public.
Bruce was sitting in his chair; his cowl and cape were gone, but he was still wearing his body armor.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to his office chair.
“Where are you going to sit?”
He waved you off and walked over to another desk with more papers and files scattered across. “I’ve been driving around for hours. I would rather not sit right now.”
You sat yourself in his chair, facing him as you waited for what exactly to do next. Normally, you would have these talks over a webcam, so to be here in front of him in his own territory was a bit intimidating.
“I’ve been talking to Clark, a few things don’t add up from this past week. Can you take a look at this?” Walking over, he placed his hand on the back of the chair and faced it towards the computer screen. He stood behind it, leaning down just over your shoulder to type on the keyboard.
The close proximity and the way you could see little details about his face that you’ve never seen before really started to catch your eye. He had a hint of freckles on the side of his cheek, and his eyes were way bluer in person than any celebrity magazine you’ve ever seen. Not that you would ever admit you read them. Bottom line? Batman was really handsome.
He explained and typed away, showing you all the footage and reports the League had filed to help you understand just this week alone.
Time and time passed, occasionally with Alfred coming down to check on you both, sometimes with a refill on snacks and drinks.
At the end of the night, Bruce was on the computer while you had looked over another file. Alfred came down, a tray of food in his hand, not snacks, but a real dinner.
“Oh wow, Alfred, that smells amazing.” You walked over to see that the trays were still steaming.
“Thank you, I thought it best you two get dinner. I’m sure you both are tired from all this tedious work.” Alfred pulled up another chair and rolled it over to the computer desk. He also had a blanket in his hand, laying it over the arm of the chair where you were seated. “I know the cave can get a bit cold, especially with the drop in temperature from outside.”
“Oh, that’s very sweet of you. How is the weather outside?” You asked, and placed the blanket over your legs.
“Still coming down, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, already turning away. “Given the weather, I’ve prepared the east guest room. Just in case.”
The just-in-case landed like a carefully placed chess piece.
“Alfred..” Bruce said, his voice in a warning tone.
“I said, just in case,” Alfred said back quickly, a hint of a smile gracing his face.
Bruce eyed him suspiciously, watching him as he walked out.
You picked up your fork. “If this is your attempt to bribe me into staying longer, it’s working.”
Bruce huffed a short breath that might’ve been a laugh if anyone else were present to witness it. He removed his gloves with practiced efficiency and finally—finally—sat. Not in the chair Alfred brought, but on the edge of the desk, close enough that your knees nearly brushed his thigh when you shifted.
“I’m not going to lie, I was a bit surprised you didn’t ask Clark to come help you with this.”
“Clark, why?”
You shrugged, twirling your fork between your fingers. “He’s good at patterns. Big-picture stuff. Also, your best friend.
Bruce glanced at you sideways, something thoughtful flickering behind his eyes. “Clark sees too much,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes that gets in the way.”
“So, nosy?”
A corner of his mouth ticked up before he could stop it. He looked down at his plate like it had betrayed him.
You ate for a bit, the quiet settling in again. Not awkward—just dense. The Batcave was eerily silent; the few drops of water and the rusted sounds from around could be heard every so often.
After a while, you all had returned to work and were currently looking over footage on the computer. Bruce was working on something with his suit, both of you in a working silence.
Suddenly, the lights in the Batcave flickered, catching both your and Bruce's attention. Turning around in your chair, you caught his eye as you two waited for something else. Then, all at once, the power cut out, and the whole Batcave was dark. Red lights instantly powered on, casting a glow around the Batcave.
“The emergency lights turned on,” Bruce said, walking over to the computer. He tried to mess around with it, but seemed to get more irritated. “Everything's down.”
Hearing footsteps from behind, both of you turned and saw Alfred come down a set of stairs. “The elevator is down, so is the rest of Gotham.”
“I'll get in touch with the commissioner.” Bruce pulled out his phone and walked away from the desk.
You watched Bruce pace a few steps away, phone already at his ear, posture snapping back into that rigid, all-business silhouette like someone had flipped a switch. The red emergency lights carved sharp lines across his face, turning him into something half-statue, half-shadow.
“Someone hit a power grid, but the storm isn't helping either.” Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Alfred inclined his head. “Given the circumstances, Master Bruce, I would advise against patrol.”
Bruce shot him a look. “I don’t need advice.”
“No,” Alfred replied smoothly. “You need roads that exist.”
That stopped him.
You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “What about the jet?”
“I blew it up.” He said casually.
“Oh.”
For a moment, Bruce didn’t respond. Then his shoulders dropped—just a fraction, but enough to feel seismic.
He turned to you, gaze steady, intent. “Until the grid comes back, you’re staying here. That’s not negotiable.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Protective, or strategic?”
“Yes,” he said without missing a beat.
Outside, the storm swallowed Gotham whole. Inside the Batcave, the night stretched on—quiet, red-lit, and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with criminals.
Alfred escorted you upstairs, showing you around the rest of the manor
The manor felt impossibly quiet compared to the Batcave. No humming servers, no dripping water—just the muffled hush of snow pressing in from every side.
Alfred moved with practiced ease through the halls, lights flicking on as you passed. “You’ll find Wayne Manor is rather dull when Master Bruce isn’t brooding in it,” he said mildly. “A side effect of too much space and too few people.”
You smiled. “It’s… bigger than I imagined.”
“That is a common reaction,” he replied. “Followed closely by how does one man get lost in his own house?”
He led you past a sitting room that looked untouched, a library that definitely wasn’t, and finally stopped at the east wing. A guest room waited there—warm, lit softly, a fire already crackling in the hearth like it had been expecting you.
“I’ll have fresh clothes brought up,” Alfred said. “And breakfast prepared, assuming the world has not ended by morning.”
“Always a possibility,” you said.
He gave you a look that suggested he had contingency plans for that too. “Do try to get some rest.”
As he turned to leave, footsteps echoed down the hall. Bruce appeared at the far end, armor gone now, dressed in a dark sweater and slacks, looking marginally less like a vigilante and significantly more like a regular civilian.
He stopped when he saw you.
“Generators are stable,” he said, like this was a normal hallway conversation. “If anything changes, I’ll know.”
You leaned against the doorframe. “You ever stop working?”
His gaze lingered on you, unreadable. “No.”
Then, after a beat, “But I slow down.”
Bruce glanced toward the window, then back to you. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be… complicated.”
He turned to leave, then paused. “You’re safe here.”
Not the manor. Not the system.
Here.
The door closed softly behind him, and for the first time since the storm began, the night didn’t feel quite so hostile.
You changed into the clothes that Alfred brought you; they were soft and definitely oversized. You guessed that it was probably Bruce's, which only made sense since Batman had rarely ever had any guests.
Looking out the window, the whole area was covered in deep snow, and visibility was basically nonexistent. The wind looked strong and cold; the last place you wanted to be was outside. Sleep didn’t come easily. The manor was warm, quiet, almost too quiet, and your mind kept replaying all the events of the day until you just hopped out of bed, grabbed a blanket to wrap around yourself, and decided to wander.
The place was a maze, with its long corridors and many rooms, intimidating to say the least. Once you made it downstairs, a familiar room caught your eye from before—the library.
Tall shelves stretched up toward the ceiling, with dark wood and older artifacts on every other shelf, the faint smell of leather and paper hanging in the air. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting slow-moving shadows across rows and rows of books that looked less decorative and more… used.
You stepped inside, mesmerized by the room.
“Couldn’t sleep either?”
You startled—just a little. Bruce stood near one of the shelves, sleeves rolled up, a book open in his hands. No armor. No cape. Just him, illuminated by firelight instead of emergency red.
“Is it that obvious?” you asked.
“Insomnia recognizes insomnia,” he said, closing the book and setting it back into place with care.
You walked further in, trailing your fingers along the spines. “This is a real library. Not the billionaire-aesthetic kind.”
He leaned against a ladder, watching you. “Alfred would be offended if it wasn’t.”
You picked a book at random, then paused. “Half of these are annotated.”
“Some arguments never end,” he said.
You glanced at him. “You argue with dead authors?”
“All the time. They started it.”
You looked at him, a smirk making its way to your face. “Did- did you just make a joke?”
“I have a sense of humor.”
“Not according to Superman.” You laughed.
“Clark just isn’t funny,” Bruce stated.
He gestured toward one of the chairs near the fire. “Sit. If you’re going to be awake, you might as well be comfortable.”
You took the invitation, sinking into the chair as the warmth from the fire chased the last of the chill from your bones. You tightened the blanket around you, watching as the fire cracked.
Bruce didn’t sit right away. He paced a few steps, set the book he’d been holding onto a side table, then finally took the chair opposite you. The firelight caught on his face, smoothing the sharp edges the cowl usually gave him.
“So,” you said, folding one leg under yourself, “is this where you come to pretend you’re not Batman for five minutes?”
He considered that. “Sometimes,” he said. “Mostly it’s where I come to think without alarms going off.”
You glanced around. “Looks like it works.”
A log shifted in the hearth, sending a small shower of sparks upward. Bruce’s gaze followed the movement, distant for a moment. He leaned back slightly, studying you over the rim of the firelight. “You know, Flash wasn’t wrong. I don’t like most people.”
You smiled. “Let me guess. I’m still on the ‘annoying’ list.”
“No,” he said. “You moved.”
You shifted in the chair, the crackle of the fire filling the space between his words and whatever you were supposed to say next. You moved. Not you earned it, not you proved something. Just… moved. Like trust with him wasn’t a switch, but a slow tectonic thing.
“That sounds dangerously close to a compliment,” you said, aiming for light. “Careful. I might get used to it.”
His mouth curved, subtle but unmistakable. “Don’t.”
You laughed softly, then let your gaze drift back to the shelves. “So, have you read all the books in this room?”
He looked around, contemplating for a moment. “No, some of them are in other languages.”
When you didn’t respond, Bruce looked over to see you trying to suppress a grin. “What?”
“Nothing.” You said innocently, eyeing him with an amused smile. “It’s just what you said reminded me of Beauty And The Beast.”
“The kids' movie?”
“Yeah, like when he shows her his grand library.” You stared at him for a moment. “You’ve never seen it?”
Bruce’s brow creased, faintly offended on principle. “I’m aware of the story,” he said. “Cursed aristocrat. Sentient furniture. Stockholm-adjacent romance.”
You stared at him. “That is the most aggressively unmagical summary I’ve ever heard.”
“I prefer accuracy.”
“You prefer brooding,” you said, and tucked the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “They sing. There’s character growth. There’s a talking teapot.”
A quiet huff of amusement escaped him before he could stop it. He noticed. You noticed that he noticed. You let yourself take the win.
“I didn’t have a lot of time for movies,” he said, more neutral now. “Still don’t.”
“Tragic,” you replied. “You’d love it. Big moody house. Emotionally repressed lead. Learning to be human through… books and companionship.”
His eyes flicked to you. Just briefly. “You’re stretching.”
“Am I?” You leaned back, smiling. “Because from where I’m sitting, this is basically the Batcave with better lighting and fewer computer beeps.”
“That’s a low bar.”
“True. But admit it,” you went on, softer now, “this place suits you. Quiet. Warm. No one asking you to save the world every ten seconds.”
He didn’t answer right away. The firelight danced across his face, catching in the lines he didn’t bother hiding. When he spoke, his voice was lower, steadier.
“It’s easier to think when no one needs anything from me.”
The honesty landed heavier than the joke had. You nodded, gaze on the flames. “Yeah. I get that.”
Silence settled again, not awkward this time. Companionable. The kind that didn’t demand performance.
After a beat, Bruce leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So. If I were to hypothetically watch this movie… what happens?”
You looked at him, delighted. “Hypothetically?”
“Purely academic.”
You grinned. “He learns that isolating himself doesn’t protect anyone. It just keeps him lonely. And she teaches him that kindness isn’t weakness.”
Bruce absorbed that, eyes on the fire. “And the curse?”
“Broken,” you said simply. “Eventually.”
Another pause. Then, dry as ever: “Do I have to sing?”
You laughed, bright and unguarded, and the sound seemed to loosen something in his chest.
“No,” you said. “But I make no promises about the teapot.”
Bruce stood from his seat, walked to one of the bookshelves, and began scanning each one for something. You watched him pull a book from the shelf and walk back to sit in front of your chair. Reaching over, he presented the cover. The fire light casted over the title, a small gasp left your mouth before you could stop it.
“Is this the original adaptation?” You asked, taking the book from his hand, your fingers graced over the title.
“It’s one of them, but this one might be better for your taste.”
Excitedly, you slipped off the chair and sat beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed his arm. Not accidental. Not entirely planned either.
Bruce went still, not tense—just aware. You felt it anyway.
You opened the book carefully, reverent. “This is gorgeous,” you murmured, fingers tracing the edge of the page. “Do you know how hard it is to find a copy like this that hasn’t been absolutely destroyed by time or pretentious collectors?”
“I had help,” he said. “Alfred.”
Of course he did.
You smiled to yourself, then glanced up at him. “You know, in the movie, this is the part where the Beast is awkwardly hovering, pretending he doesn’t care that she likes the library.”
Bruce’s mouth twitched. “I’m not hovering.”
“You absolutely are.”
He leaned back slightly, giving you a fraction more space. “Better?”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Worse, actually. Now it feels intentional.”
That earned you another quiet huff of laughter. He didn’t look away this time.
You flipped a page, settling in, your knee knocking lightly against his. Neither of you moved it.
“This one’s darker than the Disney version,” you said after a moment. “Less singing. More… atmosphere.”
His gaze dropped to the book in your hands, to the way you held it like something fragile and valuable. “You read like you expect to be interrupted,” he observed.
You blinked. “Do I?”
“Your thumb stays between pages,” he said. “Like you’re ready to stop.”
That hit closer than you expected. You shifted your grip, then deliberately relaxed it. Let the book open fully. “I read when I do the overnight shift at the Watchtower, I guess I’m just expecting to be interrupted by some emergency,” you said lightly.
“That makes sense,” he said.
“Occupational hazard,” you replied, attempting breezy. “World-ending events have terrible timing.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “They do.”
You read in silence for a moment. The fire murmured. The manor stayed vast and still around you. Your knee remained pressed to his, a quiet constant.
Bruce shifted slightly—not away, just enough to rest his forearm along the back of the chair behind you. Casual. Almost. You pretend not to notice.
Morning arrived the way it always did at the manor. Alfred held two cups of coffee as he started to make his way downstairs, but just before he could pass the hallway, he noticed the library door was cracked open.
Alfred stepped in, a satisfied smile at the sight before him.
The fire had burned itself down to embers, the room washed in soft gold. You and Bruce were still on the floor in front of the chair. His head tipped back just enough to be uncomfortable by any civilized standard. You were curled beside him, blanket still around your shoulders, the book open but unread in your lap. Somewhere in the night, your head had found his shoulder. Somewhere in the night, his arm had settled around you.
Alfred approached quietly, adjusted the blanket where it had slipped from your arm, and closed the book with care, marking the page.
Bruce stirred faintly at the movement, instinct waking before the man did. His eyes opened, sharp for half a second—then softened when he registered Alfred.
“…Morning,” Bruce murmured, voice rough with sleep.
“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred replied, calm as ever. His gaze flicked meaningfully to you, still asleep. “I see the library has been… utilized.”
Bruce glanced down, realization dawning. He didn’t move. Didn’t disentangle. “It was late.”
“So I gather.”
You shifted then, brow creasing slightly as consciousness crept in. “Did the teapot sing?” you mumbled.
Alfred’s eyebrow rose. Just enough.
Bruce huffed quietly. “I told you there was no singing.”
You blinked awake, took in the arm around you, the light through the windows, Alfred standing there with the composure of a man who had already seen everything. Your eyes widened.
“Oh. Oh no.”
Alfred smiled. Soft. Fond. Entirely too knowing. “No need for alarm, miss. I find it rather refreshing to see Master Bruce remain in one place long enough to sleep.”
You pushed yourself upright, mortified. “I—I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Bruce said, low and immediate.
Alfred pretended not to notice the speed of that response. “Breakfast will be ready shortly,” he said instead. “I’ll have it brought here. It seems a shame to disrupt a… rare alignment.”
He paused at the door, then added, without turning, “And Miss—”
You looked up.
“—You’re welcome here anytime.”
Then he left.
You stared after him, then down at the blanket, then at Bruce. “I think your butler just emotionally adopted me.”
Bruce huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “That means you’re in trouble.”
This whole weekend was filled with rain and thunderstorms. All of Gotham was on a flood watch warning, and there were even some streets that had shut down.
It gave you a great opportunity to reorganize, clean, and even catch up on some movies you’ve been meaning to watch.
Candles, fuzzy flippers, and soft cozy pjs were all you needed, and that’s exactly what you got. The cup of coffee this morning was the start, and now you settled down with a sweet glass of wine to finish off the night.
The rain hit the roof, creating a perfect rhythm, and the metal on the fire escape chime went along with it. You brought some of the plants inside to make sure they wouldn’t drown this weekend.
You checked your phone one last time, hoping to see a text from your boyfriend. It had been three hours since you heard from him, and although you knew that he was probably preoccupied with his nighttime activities, you thought best then to bother him again.
Setting up a comfy spot on the couch, you decided to turn on a show and drink the rest of your wine to try and get more sleepy. Although your intentions weren’t to sleep on the couch, it was ultimately what ended up happening. Only waking up to the sound of your phone going off.
Trying to wipe your eyes, you squinted at the sudden light from your phone. Seeing that it was now 4 AM, you grew slightly annoyed as you tried to think who could be contacting you this late. When Bruce's name appeared, you perked up a bit. Before you had the chance to open it, his name appeared again, this time on a phone call.
Answering it quickly, you held the phone to your ear, waiting anxiously for him to speak. When all you heard was the sound of the rain and thunder, you spoke up first.
“Hello?” You said softly.
“I’m on your balcony, can you open the door?” He replied. His voice was low and gravely.
Confused, you peeked behind you from your couch at the balcony siding door. You couldn’t see anything at first, but as soon as lightning struck, the silhouette of Batman came into view. Most people would've jumped in fear at the sight, but you jumped across your couch and quickly headed for the balcony door so he would get inside.
“Hurry, get inside!” You grabbed his gloved hand, pulling him inside and quickly shutting the door behind him. “I’ll get some towels-”
When you turned around to leave, you felt his hand tug you back to him. Looking up, confused, you went to speak, but he let go of your hand without saying anything. Hurrying to your closet, you grabbed a few towels, a black hoodie, and the sweats you had borrowed (stolen) last time you stayed the night at his place.
When you came back, you saw he was still standing there where you left him. Handing him the towels and clothes, you waited as he took off his heavy boots and the heavy pieces of his suit, leaving him in only a black tee and the thermal pants he had underneath. Once he finally removed his cowl, you noticed the bright red cut that graced his forehead. His eyes were sunken and dark from under-eye makeup, leaving black smudges down his cheeks.
He looked defeated…
You took his hand gently, leading him to your bathroom so he could shower before catching a cold. As you entered, you set up the shower and made sure it was nice and hot. You weren’t planning on turning around right away, but when you caught him struggling with his shirt, you couldn’t help yourself.
Reaching for the bottom of the shirt, you gently helped get it over his shoulder. Frowning when you heard the sharp hiss he made from the pain. Once he got it off, he let out a breath of relief. He started taking off his thermal pants, so you turned around quickly to give him a bit of privacy.
Hearing him move around, you stood there patiently as you messed with your fingers, anxious as you waited for him to be finished.
The movement stopped for a moment, and you were about to speak up, but suddenly you felt his head press against your shoulder blade. His right hand came to rest gently on your hip. Slowly, he began to caress it, still not speaking.
“Bruce?” Reaching to rest your hand that was on top of your hip, you interlaced your fingers with him and squeezed gently.
His breath shuddered against your back; it was warm and left a chill. The hand on your hip tightened just a fraction, like he was anchoring himself to something.
“Just—” His voice caught. He swallowed, forehead pressing more firmly against your shoulder and neck. “Don’t move.”
So you didn’t. You let yourself be the still point in the storm, rain hammering on the bathroom window. Your fingers stayed laced with his, thumb brushing slow, reassuring circles against his knuckles. Not rushing. Not fixing. Just there.
After a long beat, his grip softened. He exhaled, long and shaky, like he’d been holding it for hours. Maybe longer.
“I’ll be quick. Thank you.” Feeling his lips brush against your neck, he left a gentle kiss there before moving from behind you to in front. Opening the shower door, you held your breath when you saw all the damage from tonight that was all across his back.
Walking out of the bathroom, you got the first-aid kit and some water to be ready when he gets out.
The steam left the bathroom as he opened the door. His hair was damp, and his eye makeup was gone, along with the Gotham presence of smoke and rain. He paused when he saw you waiting by the couch, first-aid kit already open. Gauze, antiseptic, bandages laid out with quiet intent.
He walked over, his movements were slow and a bit wavering. When he sat down, he looked at you curiously, placing a hand on your knee. “I’m fine.”
“It’s cute you think you can convince me of that. Pull your hoodie up.” You said sternly.
He smirked, but chose not to argue otherwise. Turning his back to you, he pulled the back of his hoodie up to the back of his neck. You sucked in a breath, trying not to react. Starting with the top and slowly making your way to the bottom. You were gentle with each cut and bruise, making sure not to leave anything out.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, putting on another bandage.
“No.” He said quickly.
“It might help.”
“It won’t.”
As you put the last bandage on, you gently reached up and pulled his hoodie back down. “Face me.”
He turned towards you, his eyes kept tracking your face. Taking a cotton swap, you dipped it in disinfectant, then, reaching up, you gently dabbed it on the cut across his forehead. The first time, he hissed slightly, which made you hesitate, but when he nodded at you in reassurance, you continued.
“This cut is kinda deep.” You said, holding another gauze to it, you pressed down to try and stop the bit of blood still dripping. “How do you get a cut like this if you wear a cowl?”
“I forgot to duck.”
You laughed, earning a small smirk in response. “Well, the bandage is on, I’ll probably have to change it out in an hour if it keeps bleeding.”
Putting away all the supplies, you felt his eyes watching you. His hand was still on your knee, and every so often, you felt it squeeze gently. Getting up from the couch, you picked up your precious glass of wine and an extra clean glass from the cabinet. Bringing over the bottle, you sat back down next to him. Pouring halfway, you gave it to him, which he happily accepted.
Pulling down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, you pulled it over both of yours and his legs.
He eyed you curiously. “You’re so far away.”
“I didn’t wanna push up against you with all the bruising and cuts.” You shrugged like it was obvious.
Bruce rolled his eyes, set down his drink, and reached over to pull your leg across his lap. Wrapping his arm around your neck, he pulled you in closer to be tucked into his side.
“You’re not going to cause me any pain.” He leaned over to kiss the top of your head before resting his head on top of yours.
The silence filled the room; the only noise was from the rain and thunder outside. Bruce hadn’t moved much, with the exception of running his hand up and down your arm.
“Tonight was just too much.”
You looked up at him, surprised he even spoke. His eyes were looking straight ahead, and instead of responding, you waited for him to continue.
“I should be used to it by now, but there are just some nights. I can’t take it. I can’t push it down.” His voice was low, his eyes clearly remembering something he wanted to forget. “I don’t like coming here, not right away after a night like this. It’s not fair to you, but I can’t go back to the cave. I can’t look at that damn computer and go through it all. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.”
You turned his head down to look at you; his eyes were glassy, but nothing fell. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his, feeling his body relax as he started to kiss you back.
When you pulled away, you tucked some of his damp hair behind his ear. “Bruce. You are always welcome here, I will never lock you out, from the front door or the balcony.” You teased.
He smiled softly. Leaning down, he kissed you more aggressively than before. His arms pulled you to sit over his lap. His movements made their way to the side of your cheek, then to your neck.
“Bruce…” you breathed out. “Your wounds, your cuts-“
“I’m fine.” His teeth grazed your skin, going up higher to right below your ear. Then he bit down.
You gasped, gripping his shoulders tight. His hand snuck around under your thighs, holding on, he pulled you with him as he stood.
His eyes were darker now, his pupils blown as he looked at you intensely. “Just you, that’s all I need tonight, just you.”
You looked down at him; his breathing was uneven, and any plan to take it easy tonight went right out the window.
Nodding slowly, you leaned down and reconnected your lips. He started to walk slowly to your bedroom, only stopping to reach over and open the door.
He lay you back gently on the bed, his hands quickly roamed everywhere. Pulling one of your legs to wrap around his back, he went back to your neck again, making his way down your chest to your stomach.
“So, I guess we aren’t taking it easy tonight?” You joked.
His eyes looked up at you, a devious smile gracing his face. “Absolutely not.”
A/n: hi im making this from my phone. I’ve gotten super sick. Like the type of sick when you’re in bed and throwing up and can’t eat anything and wanna lay in your own filth because your body hurts. Not trying to get sympathy but I wanted to let the people know i probably won’t be posting day 6 since my file is saved on my office computer and there’s no way I can bring myself to even sit up. Didn’t want you all to think I forgot today, I’ve just been throwing up, sleeping with YouTube playing in the background and sipping on some 7 up. Anyways thank you for all the sweet feedback from the past few days on the whole count down till Valentine’s. Big love and I’ll see how I feel tomorrow if I’m good to rejoin the living ❤️❤️❤️
A/n: could you tell I just watched Brigerton? lol, also could totally lowkey make a part two to this.
Beautiful ballroom, shining stars from the sky light above. This was absolutely the most stunning event you had ever experienced. Not like you were invited to a lot.
Your brother's high school friend had a lot of money, and that meant a lot of money for the oldest sister's birthday party.
She wasn’t the nicest person in high school, and because you and your brother went to the fancy private school under scholarship, the kids were a bit cruel.
Since your brother was good at sports, he kept a safety umbrella for both of you. The bullying was still there, but being his sister definitely helped.
The kids there were all the same, except for the few good friends you made. Yet all of them had money, and almost all of them grew up taking classes in some type of behavioral or high etiquette setting. Despite your thinking the fancy stuff was cliché and a bit old-fashioned, there was still an expectation that in a social setting, an example would be set.
Since your brother and you didn’t have the extra money for the classes, neither of you had the experience expected at events like the one you were at now.
It was supposed to be a birthday party. However, this was definitely the fanciest birthday party you had ever attended.
The theme was a masked ball, and no one missed the mark. Everyone had dressed in beautiful ball gowns, each person with a mask to match their attire. Covering half their face to keep the theme of secret identity going.
When entering the ballroom, you stared in awe at the beautiful chandeliers and the few ice sculptures that decorated the ceramic water fountain against the wall of ceiling-to-floor flowers.
The floor itself was a freshly shined birch wood. Bringing out the cream colored curtains that hung from each window in the room.
Food and drinks were all around, plenty to feed the party and even more. What really caught your eye was the ceiling light that cast down the moon's light directly in the middle of the dance floor. It was mesmerizing, to say the least, and the full moon made it that much harder to look away. Something about it made you wonder why the ceiling glass was so vibrant.
“It’s got diamonds forged inside the glass.”
You jumped, not expecting the sudden voice from right behind your shoulder. The man smiled down at you, his mask covering half his face, but the bright crystal blue of his eyes stood out from the sheer black mask he was wearing.
His black suit was pressed nicely, not a wrinkle in sight. His blazer was unbuttoned, giving a slightly better view of his physique. The tightness of his dress shirt gave a clue that he definitely worked out, and the belt he was wearing had two initials engraved, but you couldn’t make them out without staring too long.
You looked back up at the ceiling, leaning towards him so he could hear you over the music. “How do you know it has diamonds forged inside?”
“I have the same ones in my house.” He said simply, taking a drink.
You shuddered a bit; his breath hit the back of your neck when he spoke, making you realize how close he really was behind you. His cologne lingered behind you, a sweet scent of sandalwood and maybe vanilla?
“I bet that cost a fortune.” The words fell flat. You almost forgot where you were. Nothing here was considered too much money to these people, and to them, a ceiling skylight was just a ceiling skylight.
“That’s why it’s only in one room.” He looked down at you, a hint of a smirk present. “Not to make assumptions, but I couldn’t help notice you are the only one mesmerized by something else that's not the birthday girl.”
You grimaced, looking over to see the birthday girl in question. Sighing, you looked back at the man, trying to keep a neutral face. “I’m not really here for her; I was my brother's plus one, and he has ditched me for his long-time friends.”
“Why even bother coming?” Despite the blunt question, his voice held only genuine curiosity.
“I- I don’t know. I guess the thought of going to a fancy ball excited me. I just knew they would go all out, and seeing all the dresses and decorations made it sound like a fantasy.”
“Hopeless romantic?” He teased, laughing when you swatted your hand in response.
“I wasn't looking for something specific, but, yes.”
The man’s laugh was soft. He tipped his glass slightly, the ice chiming. “I guarantee you aren’t the only one here for that same reason.”
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “And you say that like experience?”
“Like observation.” He shifted closer, not touching you, but close enough that the warmth of him bled through the space. “People come to things like this hoping the night will turn into a story. Most of them are disappointed because they expect it to look a certain way.”
“And you?” you asked. “What do you expect?”
He considered that, eyes lifting to the diamond-lit glass above. “Nothing, I suppose. I don't get surprised by much anymore, especially from parties like this.”
The music changed then, the tempo slowing into something smooth and deliberate. Couples drifted toward the center of the dance floor, skirts brushing polished wood, shoes whispering in practiced steps. The moonlight pooled between them like a private stage.
He offered his hand, palm up. No pressure. No insistence. Just an option.
“Dance with me,” he said.
“I—” You let out a quiet, embarrassed laugh and glanced down at your shoes. “I don’t actually know how.”
That made him pause. Not in disappointment. In surprise.
“Not at all?” he asked.
You shook your head. “No classes. No lessons. No dramatic childhood montage where I learn in a sunlit studio.” You gestured vaguely around the ballroom. “I’m more… sway awkwardly and hope no one notices.”
For a split second, you braced yourself—for the polite excuse, the graceful retreat. Instead, he smiled. Not the practiced kind. The real one that reached his eyes.
“Perfect,” he said.
“Perfect?” you repeated.
“That keeps it from being boring, I’m interested in something new.”
You swallowed, heart thudding. “And if I step on your foot?”
“I own good shoes,” he said dryly. “They’ll survive.”
You hesitated—just long enough to remember every reason you didn’t belong here. Then you remembered why you came in the first place.
You placed your hand in his.
His grip was warm and steady as he guided you into the light. You weren’t perfect, and he noticed immediately—then adjusted without comment, matching you instead of correcting you. It felt less like performing and more like floating. He was doing most of the work, but he was pretty good at making you both look good.
“You’re better than you think,” he murmured, leaning in slightly.
“You’re lying,” you said.
“I’m observant,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
His hand on your waist tightened, leaning down to reach your ear. “Don’t let go of my hand.”
He smiled at you, seeing the worried look. Holding in your breathe your fingers tighten in his for half a beat before you let go.
He guides her into a slow spin, not flashy, not sharp. Time stretches as you turn, dress twirling around your legs, the world briefly tilting away from him. Once they reached the fullest extent of the outreach, he smirked, giving an enigmatic nod just before he pulled you back in swiftly.
Your foot just got caught at the last second, making you panic for a moment. He catches you gently, closer than before, like he couldn’t risk the space a second time. Your back settles against his chest, his arm folding around your waist. You tilt your head just enough to feel his breath at your temple.
You both sway again, slower now to match the song. Both of you seemed aware that you could let go, but chose not to.
Since your back was to him, it only now occurred to you that some lingering eyes had been watching you. Suddenly becoming very insecure, you started to pull away. The man swiftly grabbed hold of your wrist, twisting you back around to face him.
“What’s wrong?” His brows furrowed, his grip on your waist shifted to rest on your back. The hand that pulled you toward him was held to his shoulder, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your palm.
You hesitated. The room suddenly felt too bright, too full—crystal chandeliers, silk gowns, strangers pretending not to stare while doing exactly that. Your gaze flicked past his shoulder, then back to his eyes.
“I—” You exhaled, shoulders tensing despite his steady hold. “People are watching.”
For a moment, he said nothing. Instead, his thumb slowed its movement against your palm, deliberate now, grounding. Then he leaned in just slightly, enough that his forehead almost brushed yours.
“Let them,” he murmured.
The certainty in his tone startled you more than the closeness. His hand pressed more firmly against your back, not possessive, just firmly enough to steady your nerves. The music swelled around you, a low, sweeping rhythm, and he guided you back into it without waiting for permission.
“You’re with me,” he added, softer now, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.
Something in your chest loosened. You nodded, barely perceptible, and let your fingers curl against his shoulder. He smiled—not the smirk from before, but something quieter, satisfied—and pulled you back into the slow sway of the dance.
You took a breath, resting your head against his chest. The fabric of his suit was cool beneath your cheek, the faint, clean scent of cologne grounding in a way you hadn’t expected. His breath hitched—not enough to be obvious, just enough that you felt it.
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then his arm tightened at your waist, protective without being restrictive, his hand settling a little more securely at your side as if to say I’ve got you. The rhythm of the music guided you both, slow and unhurried, your bodies moving as one without thought.
His chin rested on top of your head. “Better?” he asked quietly.
You nodded against him. The tension in your shoulders eased, melting into the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He shifted just enough to rest his cheek lightly against your head, a subtle mirror of the way you leaned into him.
You swayed together. In that moment, with your head on his shoulder and his arms holding you like you belonged there, the rest of the ballroom might as well have ceased to exist.
The song drew toward its end, the tempo slowing until your steps barely counted as movement. You were just starting to pull back when his body went rigid.
A sharp buzz cut through the music. He pulled one of his hands from your waist, leaving the other to keep you close to his side.
His jaw tightened as he glanced at his phone, eyes scanning the screen with a dark look. Whatever was there flipped a switch in him—warmth snapping into focus, focus into urgency.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
He stepped back at once, his hand falling from yours, instantly feeling the cool air at his absence. The final note of the song rang out, applause rising around you, but he was already half-turned.
“I have to go,” he said, quick and firm. You opened your mouth—question, protest, something—but he was already moving. He paused just long enough to catch your wrist, squeezing once. He stared at you, contemplating an apology all at the same time.
Before you could respond, he reached up, fingers brushing your jaw with surprising tenderness. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek—not rushed, not careless, just devastatingly gentle.
“I’ll find you next time,” he added, eyes locking with yours. His stare held nothing but confidence in his words.
Then he let go.
He disappeared into the crowd as the lights shifted and the music swelled for the next dance, leaving you standing at the edge of the floor with the linger of his touch and the hope that his words held up, and this wouldn’t be the end of your time together.
Bruce smiled softly, not even pulling his gaze when you looked at him. The cool wind blew, covering her eyes with your hair. He reached over and pushed it back behind your ear.
“I’m enjoying the view.” He said softly, his gaze scanning you, a longing in his eyes that made you turn away shyly.
“You’re such a sap.” You laughed.
“I’m romantic,” He stated.
Rare moments like these are the ones he savored the most. Just outside the town border, at the top of the hill, right under a willow tree. This spot was something he stumbled upon one late night while on patrol.
Its hills reached down to Gothams River, and just on the side of the water was the city. He originally thought it was just another open landscape, but when he drove by during the season change, he became mesmerized by the dozens of small flowers blooming in the middle of spring. The city had bad luck with nature, as the surrounding air was filled with toxins from the factories.
However, this area didn’t seem to be affected by the polluted air that filled Gotham. It was just out of reach of the city line, allowing the dozens of flowers and a few willow trees to live.
Which is why Bruce wanted to share it with you. This little bit of beauty that he found. He wanted to take you here and show you that something this beautiful was really this close to home.
Bruce knew that Gotham was dying, and although he was trying his best to save it, sometimes he still needed to be reminded why. You helped him with that.
Pointing out parts of the city that he hardly saw. Showing him just how amazing Gotham could truly be, and why people like you, people who seemed to deserve better than what the city gives them, are still doing here.
So he knew instantly. Once he saw this place, he knew he had to return the favor and show you a little piece of Gotham that you hadn’t seen yet.
“Bruce?” You called, waiting for him to respond for a few minutes now. Beginning to worry when all you got was a distant look in his eyes. You called his name again, this time reaching over and kissing his cheek.
He blinked a few times, his eyes really looking at you now. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought, I suppose.”
You frowned at him, rubbing the side of his cheek with your thumb. You sat up straight on the picnic blanket. “You’ve been pretty distracted lately, this whole week really.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize, I’m just worried about you. It takes a lot to keep your mind occupied.”
He sat himself upright, grabbing hold of your thigh and swiftly pulling it around him. You instantly took hold of his shoulders, the sudden action catching you off guard since he did it so effortlessly. Moving forward a bit, you sat on his lap, adjusting your legs to wrap behind his back.
Feeling the soft touch of your hands move to the back of his head, he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the baby hairs you were playing with.
“Bruce. What’s wrong?”
He looked up at you, his eyes scanning your face. Bringing his hand to cup your face, he gently caressed your cheek. Smiling as he watched you turn your head deeper into his touch. His other hand squeezed your waist gently, sneaking under your shirt just above the waistband of your pants.
“I’m just taking in the moment.” He said softly. “We don’t get moments like these very often.”
“So, what’s filling up your mind right now?”
Bruce went quiet again. His hand at your waist flexed once, then stilled, like he was bracing himself.
“Hey,” you murmured. “You okay?”
“There’s something I’ve been trying to find the right moment for,” he said. His voice was steady, but only just. “And I keep telling myself there will be a better time. Quieter. Safer.” He let out a soft, almost humorless breath. “But that never really comes, does it?”
You only became more confused by his behavior, but you chose not to say anything while you waited for him to find the words. His eyes searched yours, raw and unarmored in a way that made your chest tighten.
“This city takes so much,” he continued. “It takes people. It takes hope. And every day I ask myself why I keep fighting for it.” His thumb brushed your cheek, reverent. “Then there’s you. Standing in the middle of all of it. Choosing to stay. Choosing me.”
You turned your head to the side, cupping his face in your hands. “I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”
Bruce smiled softly, leaning forward to give you a quick kiss. When he pulled back, you frowned slightly to see that his nerves were still present, and his whole body was still stiff.
He shifted beneath you, reaching into his coat with a hesitation that was painfully uncharacteristic. When his hand came back out, it was clenched—knuckles pale, grip tight. He opened his palm between you, revealing the ring.
Your eyes grew, and you looked back up to him and then quickly back to the ring. Mouth agape as you tried to process what was happening.
“It was my mother’s,” Bruce said, his voice barely audible. “I haven’t touched the ring since Gordan gave it to me that day. I couldn’t bring myself to look at it, but now, when I think about it, and where I see it. I can’t think of a better home for it than on your hand.” Bruce took a shaky breath; his eyes stared at you intently now, making sure to keep his gaze on you for what he wanted to say next. “I don’t know how to promise you a life without danger,” he said, voice dipping, cracking just a fraction. “But I can promise you honesty. And loyalty. And every quiet hilltop moment I can steal from the chaos.”
He let out a nervous huff of a laugh, eyes flicking away for half a second before locking back onto yours. “I know I’m the one called the greatest detective, but even I’m having trouble figuring out what you're thinking.”
You looked at him, really looked at him: the tension in his shoulders, the hope he was trying not to show. You took his face between your palms. “Oh, Bruce,” you said gently, a small smile breaking through.
His lips parted, but you shook your head, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “Listen to me first.”
You leaned closer, close enough that your breaths mingled. “I don’t need grand promises. I don’t need guarantees. I just need you— that's all I’ve ever needed.” Pulling back just enough to smile at him, warm and certain. “So yes, I’ll marry you.” His composure finally broke then. He laughed softly, breath shaking, pulling you into his arms as if he’d been holding that breath for years.
When you pulled back, Bruce gently took your hand and slowly slid the ring onto your finger. Once placed, he caressed it longingly, and a mesmerized smile grazed his face. Looking back up to you, he crashed his mouth to yours, causing a cute squeak in surprise to come from you.
His hands came up instinctively, one settling at your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as if he couldn’t help himself.
When you finally pulled back, your noses brushed, breath mingling.
Bruce smiled then—unguarded, almost boyish—and for the first time in a long time, he felt he really had something to look forward to for his future.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Day 3/14
a/n: I messed up and put the wrong time for this to be posted, my bad, this was supposed to be yesterday.
“I can’t believe we have to stay hidden.” The flash grew increasingly impatient the longer they were in the car.
GL rolled his eyes at his dramatics. “We’re almost to the manor, Barry, you’ll live. Unless you'd rather take your chances with the aliens currently looking to kill the whole Justice League, please, be my guest.”
Barry scoffed. “Don’t gotta be so mean about it.”
“Look, we are pulling up right now.” GL pointed out, seeing the huge manor just up ahead. The tall metal gates opened once the car got close enough. Both men looked in awe as they admired the bright green brushes and marble fountain up front.
“I gotta get a new day job.” Barry sighed.
“You would need twenty-day jobs to compete with this.” GL parked right up front, and both men got out and made their way to the tall wooden door.
“So do we just knock?” Barry looked around.
Before either man could decide, the door opened, and who came to view was Alfred Pennyworth. “Good evening, gentlemen. Master Wayne and the rest of the League are downstairs. I’ll escort you to them.”
Looking to each other, then back to Alfred, they followed him closely as he led the way. Barry was paying close attention to everything around him, making sure to take in every detail to try and find anything more personal about the big bad bat. Barry stopped in his tracks, noticing an extra pair of shoes in the hallway.
John noticed it instantly, shoving his arm, and he gave him a disapproving look. “What are you doing?”
Barry looked back at him, pointing at the extra set. “Look! Women's shoes!”
John raised an eyebrow. “How do you know those are women's? Those look like normal house shoes to me.” He whispered, trying to make sure Alfred couldn’t hear them.
“Come on, do you really think Batman would wear something fluffy like that!”
“Shut up, and come on!” John pulled on his arm, dragging him along.
When Alfred stopped at an old clock, they both frowned in confusion. Watching as he put in his fingerprint, which opened the clock like a door. Alfred turned to them as if it were just any other Monday.
Upon reaching the cave, both men took in the amazing setup. Only a few people had ever been down here, and this was their first.
"Wow." Barry's eyes got big. Speeding off, he zoomed around the whole cave, checking out every artifact that was around. "He has a dinosaur." He said excitedly as he sped back over to John's side.
“My advice,” Alfred spoke up, not even turning around. “Touch anything, and you're expected to face the consequences.
Barry froze in place. “Right, of course.”
“Master Wayne, the final guest has arrived.”
Bruce was typing away at his computer, and Diana, Clark, J’onn, and Shiera were all standing nearby, greeting them as they walked closer.
“Finally, you two made it,” Clark said.
“We had to take a car.” Barry sighed dramatically. “Plus, John is a slow driver.”
John rolled his eyes. “It’s how normal people get around.”
“So, do we have a plan?” Diana asked.
“We bunker down for now. It’s best we lay low until I have a clear path of the city and wait to give ourselves an opening.” Bruce replied, still typing away at his computer. Turning around in his chair, he looked towards the rest of the League members. “You’re welcome to stay upstairs. Alfred has rooms prepared for each of you until I’m ready.”
“So, we're supposed to stand around and do nothing? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Shiera crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.
“Bruce is right.” Clark jumped in. “We have eyes everywhere looking for us. If we aren’t careful, we're right back where we started.”
“Think of it like a mini vacation at Wayne Resort.” Barry sped over, hanging an arm around Shiera.
She rolled her eyes, but a grin was present nonetheless.
“This isn’t a vacation.” Bruce gritted out. His stare alone caused Barry to speed behind Clark.
“We’ll be discreet, you won’t even notice we're here.” Clark chuckled nervously.
Bruce eyed both of them, clearly knowing they would be anything but discreet guests. “Right.” He said flatly, turning back in his chair.
Clark looked at Barry sideways. “Behave.”
Barry raised his hands in defense. Soon after, all the League members went upstairs to eat a lovely dinner prepared by Alfred.
“This is amazing, thank you, Alfred.” Diana smiled, taking a plate from him.
“You’re very welcome. It’s rather nice to be able to use the main dining room again.” Alfred finished, setting the last side. He placed two extra plates on his metal tray, grabbing a couple of drinks and utensils.
“Eating with Bruce downstairs?” Clark asked.
“Ah, no, it is far too late for me to be eating such a very heavy meal. I’ll be back shortly. Feel free to have seconds or thirds. I am talking to you, Mr. Allen.” Alfred stated. Walking out with the tray.
Frowning, Barry leaned over to watch as Alfred left the room. “Why take two trays?” Barry asked.
“Who cares?” John spoke up, taking another bite.
“Fuzzy slippers, two trays. Alfred said he wasn’t eating with him. Who else could the tray be for?” Barry pushed back from his chair, walking towards the hallway.
“Barry…” Clark warned.
“What? I’m just going to the… bathroom.” He shrugged casually.
“Batman is allowing us to stay in refuge in his home. I don’t believe it is admirable to be snooping around.” J’onn crossed his arms.
“I’m not snooping, I’m just gonna take a quick look around.” Barry winked.
John and Shiera rolled their eyes, while Diana smirked at the joke.
“Barry, please don’t-” Clark pleaded, but Barry sped out. “Shouldn’t one of us try to stop him?” Clark turned to Diana, who was still just silently enjoying her dinner.
She shrugged. “Why? If he wants to mess around and find out, let him. Besides, maybe he’ll find something interesting.”
Clark frowned. “Of course, you would encourage his behavior.”
Barry had already made it to every room on the first floor. He took his time, mainly looking at portraits, scanning through books, and even flipping through his TV. Before he could scan the upstairs, he stopped by one last door at the end—a huge office, decorated with old artifacts, tons of books on shelves that reached the ceiling. The fireplace was lit, cracking and popping as the wood burned—a comfy, throne-like chair; near it, a small side table and a mug.
“What a fire hazard.” He mumbled. His eyes scanned the top of the fireplace—a couple of small figures and a couple of picture frames. One was of the Waynes. Young Bruce was in front of both parents, and the other was-
“No way,” Barry said aloud. Picking up the other photo, he examined it closely. Bruce was standing with a woman he didn’t recognize. They were posing together in an open field, Bruce holding her by the waist while she rested her head on his chest, with no space between them. What really caught Barry's attention the most was what they were wearing. Bruce, in an all-black suit and black dress shirt. The woman was in a beautiful white dress, with a shining necklace around her neck, while the sheer veil rested down her back and off her shoulders.
“Took a lot of convincing to get him to take that photo.”
Barry jumped, taking a step back as he quickly drew his attention to the door. A woman stood there, a large blanket wrapped around her body, and the same fuzzy slippers Barry recognized from earlier.
“Uh, I’m sorry.” He apologized nervously, rubbing the back of his head. Not a very heroic situation, he thought.
She smiled at him. Walking over, she looked at the picture he was still holding. “I managed to get about five copies. One for his home office, one for the business office, one for the cave, and two small ones for our wallets.”
Barry smiled, putting the photo back on the mantel. “I’m sorry, I was snooping.”
She shrugged, pulling the blanket tighter around her body. “Don’t worry, I have nothing to hide. My husband, on the other hand. I bet he wouldn’t be too happy to find you in his office.”
He laughed nervously, imagining just how much trouble he was in. “Yeah, I definitely couldn’t run fast enough from him.”
She walked over to the throne chair. Slipping her slippers off, she curled her feet up and grabbed the mug. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks.” He sighed, looking back and forth between her and the fire. “Do you mind- I mean, if it’s okay with you-”
“You wanna ask me some questions?” She smiled knowingly.
“Yes!” He exclaimed excitedly. Quickly clearing his throat, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes, please.” He said it more softly this time.
She laughed, motioning for him to sit. Happily complying, he sat in front of her, criss-cross and elbows on his legs, while holding his head up. Just as a child would for a bedtime story.
“Okay, what’s your first question?”
“How did you two meet?” Barry gushed.
“Charity event. I was working with one of the food companies that hosted.”
“You swept him off his feet, huh?” Barry grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Not exactly, but it was a beautiful event. Drinks, dancing, music.” She smiled fondly at the memory.
“I bet. So, how long did you two date before he popped the big question?”
“Five years, and we've been married for almost one now.”
Barry's eyes grew wide; he sat there, mouth agape. “Five! Almost one married!” He sat there, rubbing his hands through his hair. “For years, and not one single indication. I mean, I understand Batman, sure, but Bruce Wayne? How's that possible?”
She shrugged. “It was a little hard at first, the press loves a good shot of Bruce Wayne.” She sighed fondly. “But, once we got more familiar with each other, we discussed how we wanted to handle the public, and it was smooth sailing from there.”
“And that worked? Wow, that’s pretty impressive.” Barry leaned back on his hands, staring into the fire. “Ever think one day you’ll be in the limelight?”
“One day. I’m sure we can’t keep up the secret forever, especially from the League.” Taking a sip of her drink, she looked back at Barry. “It’s nice to speak with you for once. Bruce talks about you, so it’s nice to put a name to a face.”
Barry whipped his head toward her. “He talks about me?!” Moving his whole body towards her, he smiled widely. “What's he say? Does he talk about me often? Does he say how fast I am?”
She laughed. “He says you have a soft heart, even for your enemies. He says you bring a light to the team that nobody else can.”
“Who knew the big bad bat could be such a softie?” He grinned amussingly. “What else does he say?”
“He says you talk too much.” Bruce stood in the doorway, leaning against it, with his arms crossed in disapproval. “Get up.” He ordered.
Barry stood up quickly. Speeding behind her chair, he crouched down and peered his head around. “Heh, hi.”
She stood up and walked over to Bruce. “Be nice. He means no harm.”
Bruce scoffed, not taking his eyes off Barry. “Right.”
She glanced back at Barry. “It’s okay, he won’t bite.”
He stood slowly. Looking back and forth between them. “I’m finding that hard to believe.”
Walking towards them, Barry grinned awkwardly. Pausing next to them, he held a hand out, which she happily shook. “Pleasure, Mrs Wayne. Thanks for not letting your husband hurt me.” Raising her hand, he gently kissed her knuckles.
“That is still a possibility.” Bruce spat out. His eyes drew to Barry's hand in hers. “Very high possibility.”
Barry gulped, speeding off and leaving a breeze behind him.
She laughed softly, looking out behind his shoulder. “He was sweet.”
Bruce rolled his eyes, took hold of her hand, closed the office door, and led her towards the chair. “He’s nosy.” Sitting down, he pulled her in to sit on his lap.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking herself closer to him. “He’s harmless.” She started to fiddle with the back of his hair. “I saw the news, they're still looking for you guys. Will they be here long?”
“I don’t know, I think I’ll have it figured out tomorrow.” He looked up towards her. “Are you okay with them here?”
She smiled. “They seem nice, and it’s different having so much activity in the manor. However long they need, I’m okay with it.”
Bruce nodded, his eyes scanning her for a moment. Moving his hand to cup her face, he pulled her gently in, kissing her softly. She happily melted into him, kissing back. When he pulled back, he peeked at the side of her cheek. “Would you like to meet them?”
Her eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, trying not to sound too excited.
He laughed, moving a stray hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow, let's get to sleep for now.”
Smiling, she kissed him softly on the cheek. “Upstairs or downstairs?”
He raised a brow at her. “I’ll be going back down to the cave, I still need to-”
“Perfect!” She hopped up from his lap, tightening the blanket she was wearing. “I still have my pillow down there from a couple of nights ago.”
“You really should sleep in your own bed.” Resting his chin on his hand, he stared up at her, amused.
She held her hand out to him. “Funny, I was going to say the same about you.”
Taking her hand, he let her pull him up. Squeezing her hand gently, he brought it up closer, kissing it softly as he kept his eyes on her. “Come on, I’ll set up your chair near the computer.”
Grinning widely, she wrapped her hand in his and led him back downstairs.
A/n: I did stuck in an elevator and stuck in a snow storm later on. I’m a sucker for cliche stuck somewhere.
An office party. What a beautiful way to celebrate those who’ve worked here for almost as long as the company has been known.
It’s one of the reasons why she liked working for Wayne Interprises. It was an amazing company with talented people and enthusiastic teams in all the departments. The planning community and the HR department threw the party. An amazing way to send off to the three people who were retiring this month. She had the opportunity to volunteer with setting up the food and drink carts. It was really all coming together, especially with half the office setting up the decorations.
“I just need to put the last of the boxes upstairs in the conference room, and then I can go sign for the balloon order.” She overheard her coworker call out. Instantly taking notice, she walked over to him.
“I can take the last boxes up. I have to grab my purse from my desk anyway.” She reached over and grabbed the boxes from him. Walking to the elevator, she headed up to the conference room.
The rest of the office was basically empty since it was the weekend, and most people were a few floors below, finishing up tonight's party. Opening up the door, she set aside the spare boxes, making sure to lock up the room when she left.
Her desk was a few feet away. Grabbing her purse, she locked up her desk and headed back to the elevator.
Stepping inside, she leaned against the wall, feeling a bit tired from all the planning and set up. Just before the door closed, a shiny black business shoe stepped in between the doors, instantly reopening them.
Taking a step inside, she quickly adjusted herself as Bruce Wayne stood next to her, greeting her with a friendly nod and smile. She nodded and smiled back, but since he was on the phone, she stayed quiet.
“I’m not saying the deal went bad, Lucius. I’m just saying his offer takes away from any progress we've made this past month, and the blueprints were only for his benefit.” He sighed in frustration.
She wasn't trying to pry, but just from the tone alone, she was sure this was probably a conversation meant for closed doors. Not knowing what to do in such a close space with nowhere to go, she looked down at her feet.
Bruce leaned up against the wall, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He tried to get a word in, but the caller kept interrupting him. “Lucias, please, I’ll-” Suddenly, he was interrupted by the elevator stopping, the main light shutting down, and the emergency light popping on.
The abrupt stop caused her to stumble. Quickly, she held on to the handle and steadied herself. Bruce reached out to her, looking to see if she was okay. Nodding in reassurance, she took a breath as she calmed herself from the sudden stop.
Bruce looked at his phone, confusion gracing his face. “The whole building's power is out.”
“How do you know?” She asked.
He flashed his phone towards her. “I’ve got something on my phone to show me the status of the entire building.”
“Impressive, it’s even got temperature tracking on all the floors.” She praised. Leaning back against the wall, she crossed her arms. “So, what now?”
Bruce pulled his phone back to his ear. “Lucius? Yeah, I see it. Currently, the whole building is out, and the elevator is stopped between the 7th and 8th floors.” He listened for a bit, his face a bit intense. “Okay, see you soon.” Hanging up, she waited for maybe some good news.
“Lucius is working on the building power right now; luckily, he's close by, and we'll get out of here soon.” Bruce smiled reassuringly, leaning back against the wall. He rested his head and sighed.
“That’s great, I’m surprised you have service, I can’t get my phone to get a signal.” She messed around with her phone, still trying to send a text. “You got a personal satellite?” She teased, looking up to see that he was staring at her.
“Wait, don’t tell me…” She opened her mouth agape. When he didn’t respond, she laughed. “Wow, that's pretty cool.”
“I didn’t say I did.”
She shook her head with an assumed smile. “The silence tells more than you think.”
“Maybe you’re just observant.” He stated, really eyeing her up and down, as if he were studying her.
“I have to be working for you, everyone is here. It’s pretty amazing how focused and inspired the people are.” Praising everyone to the big boss was a rare experience, knowing he was so busy that he couldn't keep up with every single employee here. Although he tried his best, it definitely showed.
“I agree. However, I just don't find many people who can read my microexpressions. I was just caught off guard.” He said. And although it sounded like praise, it also felt like he was trying to confirm his suspicions of something. She wasn’t sure what, though.
“Thank you?” She couldn't be sure if what he was saying was friendly or threatening. He sounded both impressed and intimidated.
He laughed. “Sorry, I didn't mean to sound weird. It was definitely praise.”
She nodded in understanding, shifting her feet around to try to mask the now unsettling silence. “So,” she spoke up. “Were you headed to the party downstairs?”
“Yeah, I wanted to finish a couple of reports before it started, but looking at it, we don't know how long it'll be for Lucius to get the power back on. I likely won't get to it by tonight.” He checked his watch quickly. “It's only been ten minutes, I'm sure we'll be out in the next thirty.”
The confidence in his voice was very calming. He seems to have full faith that the person on the phone will get this power on, and once they return to the party, they will proceed.
“The reports from yesterday morning's conference meeting?”
He nodded, closing his eyes as he stood there silently.
Digging through her purse, she pulled out some files and notes she had taken earlier. “I have copies, I can help you go through them, maybe we'll get it done before the power comes back on.”
He opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow. He watched her curiously as she pulled out the papers and notebooks.
Sitting on the floor, she crossed her legs beneath her in a seiza position, spread out some of the files, opened each one, and placed the notebook on her lap.
Bruce watched her for a moment, then, swiftly taking off his blazer, he leaned over and, with his free hand, picked up the notebook, placing his blazer on her lap and putting the notebook back over it.
She looked up to him, a hint of a smile as she quietly muttered a thank you.
He sat across from her cross-legged, grabbing one of the files to scan through.
His eyes raced over the lines; it was fascinating to see how quickly he scanned the words. She almost couldn’t believe he could read that fast.
“These are great notes. Got any highlighters?” He asked.
She smiled proudly, reaching into her bag to pull out her pens. “Here.”
Both got to work; they started taking notes and discussing this month's budget and any cuts. He was really quick and on point with all the changes and planning that needed to be made. It got her curious.
“Do you normally do all the budget planning and note highlights after all the company meetings?” She asked.
“Heh, I wish I had the time, I try to get to the Friday company meetings at least. Gives the budgeting and planning floor a lot less to do for their weekends.” He scribbled down some stuff, glancing up, he saw she was staring at him. “What?”
“Oh, nothing… It’s just, I was thinking how nice that was of you.” She wondered whether those in the budgeting department had noticed that, or whether theyjust thought Friday meetings were easier than the Tuesday ones.
“They all do amazing work, and they deserve to have their full attention on their families during the weekends, leave work at home.” His voice was sincere, and what he was saying was so simple. But what about him?
“What about you, though?” She asked, flipping through another file.
“What about me?” He replied, his eyes still on the papers.
“Don’t you wanna have your weekend free for when you go home to your family?” She asked. When all she got was a long silence, she glanced up.
His expression was grim, and he looked at her, confused and sad. “You’re not from Gotham, are you?”
She frowned at that. “Uh, no. I moved here a year ago. Why do you ask, though?”
Bruce nodded, relaxing his face a bit, and he went back to writing. “Because if you were from around here, you would know it’s just me.”
She blinked a couple of times, trying to process what he just said. Then, when it dawned on her, he was a young guy with a big company that had been around for years, which likely meant he had inherited it.
“Oh… ohhh. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t even hide her embarrassment. How could she not have at least googled the man she worked for?
Bruce smiled; the horror on her face was enough to lighten his mood a bit. “You didn’t know. It’s fine.”
“That’s not fine, and why are you laughing?” She pouted.
“You look horrified.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.” He said softly. “You take it with a grain of salt, the more time passes. Besides, I don’t expect anyone your age to have much of an idea about my family; it was a long time ago.”
“We're the same age.”
He stared blankly for a moment. “Really?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes? Why is that so surprising?”
He shrugged, a mischievous smile appearing. “You look like you could pass for high school.”
“Thanks? I think. Here’s the last file.” She handed him the last one from her notes.
“By this point, we’ll be done before the party.” He looked through the last file, finishing any last touches.
“If we get out of here soon, the heat still hasn’t come back on.” She rubbed her arms, pulling his blazer jacket a bit closer.
Folding up the last file, he set it back on her notebook and checked his phone. Still no update from Lucius. “It has been a while; maybe I should call him again.”
He had a confused look on his face. He kept messing with his phone, growing increasingly impatient. “Something's wrong.”
“Why do you say that?” She followed him as he began to get up. Shoving all her papers and files back in her purse, she watched him curiously.
Bruce tried to wedge his hands between the elevator doors and pull them apart. He just managed to get a gap big enough to make a decent opening.
She stared at him blatantly. Not expecting the type of strength he just showed off. She knew he was fit, but the stretch in his white-collar shirt as he flexed while pulling the doors apart was quite a show.
“Hmm, this isn’t big enough to climb through. We are gonna have to open the ceiling and go up from there.” He started unbuttoning his tie, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.
Her eyes grew surprised. “What? Why are we doing this? I can’t get up that high.”
“I’ll lift you, and we are doing this because the whole building is back on, but the elevator still isn’t working, and I can’t get in contact with anyone, which is weird in itself.” Bruce reached up and barely managed to get the ceiling panel off.
He looked towards her, leaned down slightly, held out his hands, and waited for her to move towards him.
She hesitated before moving forward, placing her right foot gently in his hands. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she looked down at him awkwardly. “Um, would you mind turning away? I just think the view is gonna be a little bit intimate for my liking.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, then just before he could ask, he noticed her eyes move down to her office attire. The open skirt was an obvious giveaway to what she was asking. “Ah, I see. Yes, of course.” He said, turning away from her and keeping his eyes downward. “On the count of three?” He asked.
“Yeah, on three.” Gripping her hands tighter on his shoulders, she readied herself to push off her other foot. “One, two… Three!” Just as she said, she pushed her foot off, and Bruce lifted her with the momentum. She quickly got her arms on top of the elevator roof, pulling herself forward as she felt Bruce's hand push at the bottom of her foot.
Once she got her whole body up top, she turned back to look down to see Bruce smiling up at her. “Very well done.”
She laughed dryly. “Yeah, I’m quite the Olympian. Gonna get me a gold medal?”
“Maybe, I’ll get you one if you get me out next.” He went to grab her purse and handed it to her through the opening.
She started to wonder something. “Uh, you do know I can’t lift you right?”
Bruce laughed, giving a humorous smile as he looked up to her. “I would be impressed for sure, but no. I’m going to jump up to at least get a good grip; I might just need you to give me a bit of a pull forward.”
“Okay, I think I can manage that. Are you gonna be able to jump that high?” She didn’t wanna sound like she was doubting him; he was clearly athletic, but it was a pretty high jump.
The corner of his mouth raised, giving a hint of a smirk. “I think I’ll manage.”
She eyed him for a moment. She couldn’t help but wonder why he seemed a bit smug now. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”
Leaning back, she gave him more room, just in case. Waiting a few seconds, she watched, impressed as he jumped up and actually got his hands on the edge. Just as she was going to take hold of him, he pulled himself up. Making it look like the easiest thing in the world as he got half his body through, she grabbed his shirt, gripping tightly, and pulled him towards her, using all her body weight.
Once through all the way, he turned and sat himself, his legs dangling inside the elevator. “See, told you I needed help.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, right, I have a feeling you just pretend you needed help, you made that look easy.”
Getting up, he dusted off his suit pants. Holding out his hand, he helped her get up as well. Both of them suddenly froze when they felt the elevator shift and creak in an unsettling way.
“We should probably hurry-“ before she could finish, another sound of metal creaked even louder this time, shaking the whole elevator.
Bruce quickly grabbed her hand, reacting quicker than she could even process. Pulling her swiftly, Bruce jumped up right as she felt the ground below her disappear. His right hand held hers tightly, and with his left, he was hanging from the opening of the elevator. She dangled below him, the shock of looking below her and watching the elevator fall down the shaft, she tightened her grip on Bruce’s hand harder.
She looked up to him, her eyes quickly catching the way his shoulder was bent in. Oh no…
“Mr Wayne, your shoulder-“
“I’m fine.” He gritted out. She knew he was trying to cover the pain, but the clenching of his jaw and how hard he was squeezing her hand was a dead giveaway to his act.
Suddenly, the elevator shook, and a loud crash from below caused them both to look down. It had finally reached the bottom. Her eyes widened as she looked at what could be her if Bruce hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did.
She heard him grunt again, looking up to see he was still struggling to get a better grip. She started to look around to try and find anything she could step on so he didn’t have to hold her anymore, but the closest platform was too far down for comfort.
Her mind started spiraling, even though she didn’t wanna fall to her doom, she might not have a choice. Bruce was strong, but with his shoulder messed up, even he wouldn’t last much longer. Was she really gonna hang there and expect him to try and save them both?
“Bruce, you- you can’t keep this up.” She said, trying her best to sound calm. “You’re doing an impressive job, but let’s face it. You have to-“
“No!” He shouted out.
The rise in his voice startled her; she felt his hand that was holding hers tighten harder.
“Bruce, please be reasonable.” She pleaded.
“If you think for a moment I’m actually going to drop you, to save myself?” He scoffed, “We’re both getting up, on the count of three-“
“You aren’t actually thinking of pulling me up with that shoulder.”
“The more you argue with me about this, the harder it will be to prove you wrong. Now shut up and get ready.” His voice was stern; he was very firm and stubborn, she thought.
“One, two,” she held her breath. “Three!” He called out, slowly but surely, using all the strength he had, pulling her up high enough that she could grip his back.
When she was there, she quickly gripped the opening floor, pulling herself up and out. Turning around quickly, she reached for Bruce’s other hand and pulled with everything she had.
His body slowly crept out from the shaft, and with all her momentum, she fell onto her back as he basically landed half on top of her.
He rolled onto his back next to her, both of them catching their breath. Bruce hugged his shoulder, hissing slightly as he tried to move it.
She stared up at the ceiling; her breath was heavy, and she could still feel the adrenaline. Looking over at him, she snapped herself upright. “Your shoulder.” Holding her hand out, she waited for him to take it.
He opened his eyes, using his good hand to take hers and pull himself upright. He grunted, feeling the pain shoot through his arm.
Looking back at the elevator, he sighed in annoyance. “Well, at least the notes got done. Right?” He said.
She snorted, looking back at him. “I can’t believe you’re being so casual about what just happened, while you’re in pain too.”
“I thought it would help you stay calm.” He said, gesturing to her hands.
She looked down; she was indeed shaking. “Oh, I didn’t even notice.” Rubbing her hands together, she tried to get a grip.
He reached over, placing a hand on top of hers, he looked up at her and spoke gently. “Breathe.”
She focused more, taking slow, deep breaths. “Ya know, you’re the one with the messed-up shoulder. I’ll be fine.”
“Technically, you did almost fall to your death.” He replied.
She nodded. “Thank you; if you hadn’t reacted so quickly, I would definitely have fallen to my death.”
“Well, it was either you or the papers. I figured you were the better option.” He teased, gently squeezing her hand.
She laughed, shaking her head. “Thanks for choosing me then.”
Suddenly, the stairs door busted open, and an older gentleman came out. His face was panicked as he glanced around; he spotted both of us sitting there.
“Bruce!” He yelled out, rushing over to our side.
“Lucius, I’m glad you could finally make it. Stuck in traffic?”
Lucias rolled his eyes, crouching down to examine his body. “Your shoulder looks rough. How the hell did you two get out of the elevator?”
“I pulled open the door.”
“Of course you did.” Lucius looked over at her now. “How about you? Are you injured?”
She smiled. He was so sweet and soft-spoken, and genuine concern graced his face. “I’m okay, thank you.” She reassured.
Lucius nodded, glancing down, he eyed her hands closely. “That doesn’t look fine.”
Looking down, she saw that her wrist was very red and already bruising. Now that the aggreniline was wearing off, she did notice the pain more than before. “Huh, I don’t know where this came from.”
Bruce frowned, a concerned look in his eyes. “This is from me.” Gently shifting his hand to hold her wrist, he examined it slowly, being careful not to move it too much. “I must’ve held on too tight when we were dangling.”
She nodded, the action coming back to her now clearly. He really did react quickly when he grabbed onto her when the elevator fell. The momentum of her arm being jerked, and the pressure he was using to hang on to her, he really must have been squeezing really hard.
“Well, I'd rather have this than the alternative. I find one bruised wrist is better than falling to my death.” She placed her other hand on top of his, patting gently. “Thank you, I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been with a hurt shoulder.”
“I’ve already called the fire department, and Alfred should be here soon. Luckily, nobody was on the garage floor when it crashed. Everyone was still setting up for the party.” Lucius took a look at his phone, standing up, he reached for Bruce. “It’s Alfred, I should take this.”
Bruce nodded, looking back, he reached down with his good hand. She smiled, nodding in thanks as he helped her up. He took the opportunity to reach for her other hand and move it back and forth. “We’ll get this looked at, make sure it's not sprained.”
“I’m really okay, nothing some pain meds couldn’t fix.” She tried to be reassuring, but he still looked at her with doubt.
Lucius walked back over, still on the phone. “Alfred is out front, and the fire department and paramedics are on their way up.”
“How did you know which floor we were on?” She asked.
“I tracked Bruce's phone when he called the first time. I tried to fix the elevator from my office, but something was kicking me out…”
That caught Bruce's attention. “Kicking you out?”
Lucius looked at him nervously. Before he could respond, she spoke up curiously. “Like a virus? Someone put a virus on the elevator?”
Bruce clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening as he deepened his thoughts. “Lucius…” Bruce said in warning.
Lucias held up his hand in defense. “I know, I know, I’m working on it. I’ll look into the cameras.”
Just then, the stair doors opened, and in came the fire department, along with a couple of cops and some EMS guys. Lucius instantly walked over and updated them on what they needed to know. The two EMS guys came over to her and Bruce, instantly examining their injuries. Bruce was currently wearing a sling for his shoulder, while she was wearing a wrist brace. Other than a couple of scraps and bruises, they weren’t too bad, given they barely made it out of a fallen elevator.
She had the pleasure of meeting Alfred once he got upstairs. He was very endearing, making sure she was as comfortable as possible and getting her a soft blanket from a firefighter. She watched Bruce from a distance as he spoke with the police and the firefighter captain. When Lucias came up to him, she frowned slightly as she saw his expression turn dark. Both men were whispering among themselves, noticing that they were getting into more disagreements.
“Is everything okay?” Alfred spoke up. She had almost forgotten he was standing there.
“I’m just worried about those two; they don’t look happy, and I heard Lucas say something about someone may have messed with the elevator.” She kept her eyes on them as Bruce glanced over at her; a sudden, charming smile took over, and he even gave a slight wave.
She forced a smile back, giving a small wave as she took notice of how quickly his expressions could shift.
“I wouldn’t worry about those two; they bicker from time to time, and I’m sure what Mr Fox was saying before is nothing to worry about.” Alfred followed her gaze, then back to her. He sighed as he saw she still had that worried look.
“It’s just the thought of someone doing this on purpose. It really makes me worried for him.”
“He would appreciate the thought, but I have looked after Mr Wayne since he was in diapers; I am always keeping an eye out, I assure you,” Alfred said confidently.
She laughed, feeling her thoughts come more easily. Bruce himself had already made his way over, his sling tightly around him.
“I talked to the fire department, and they assured me that the elevator accident wouldn’t affect the party, so thatwe can head down soon.” Bruce grinned, expecting the news to cause excitement, but he frowned when she just nodded silently. “Something on your mind?”
“I’m just thinking… about what Lucis said about the elevator not being an accident.” She looked at him, concerned. “I’m just worried about what happens if they try again.”
Bruce placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, I won’t let that happen, and you don’t need to worry about what Lucius said. You’ll be safe.”
Her face grew hot; his voice was so soft and sincere. “I uh, I’m not worried about my safety.” She looked at him knowingly. “You and I both know that if this was on purpose, it wasn’t my building they attempted this in…”
Bruce nodded, seeming to catch on. “You have nothing to worry about with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Again with being so casual. You’re not indispensable, Mr.Wayne.”
He laughed lightly. “No, I’m not, but for your reassurance, I’ll be more careful.”
She felt his grip on her shoulder tighten a bit, a small promise between the two.
“I think we should head down, the party is starting soon. We wouldn't wanna ruin the surprise.” Alfred spoke up.
Both looked at him, nodding in agreement. They headed up the stairs, ready to greet the rest of the office and update them on their adrenaline rush from the elevator. She led from the front, with both men following behind her. When she almost felt herself trip on a step, Bruce reacted quickly, reaching forward to keep her steady.
“Here, I’ll lead.” Grabbing her hand, he gently gripped it and continued down the metal stairs. She smiled softly, looking down, she watched her hand in his, drifting her eyes to her brace, she suddenly thought to herself, she really did like the softer touch when she wasn’t falling to her death.
a/n: Day one of my one fic per day till the 14th. Ngl, I struggle a bit to think of what kinds of cute, cheesy stories I want to write, but we got there. None of these fics are gonna have titles, but they will, at some point, be part of the Masterlist when I get a chance.
“You're telling me with all the money you make, you couldn't get us two rooms?”
Bruce huffed out in annoyance, fumbling with the door key. “We are undercover; two rooms wouldn’t make sense as a couple.”
“Right… Just like it makes sense that Bruce Wayne would be seen at a fashion show event with a random waitress.”
He halted his moments. Standing up to face her, he clenched his jaw, looking at her curiously. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She looked back, shrugging her shoulders casually. “I mean, your public persona is known to be showcased with supermodels or actresses. Diana would be a better fit here.”
He rolled his eyes, going back to the door. “Diana doesn’t have an alternate persona, and those models and actresses aren’t members of the Justice League.” Unlocking the door, he pushed it open, but quickly halted. “Damn…” He mumbled.
“What? What’s wrong?” Leaning over, she peeked inside the room. “Oh…”
The room was undeniably impressive, even larger than her city apartment. The curtains alone cost more than her monthly rent. A stunning balcony offered a view of the vibrant town below. On the other side, a small bar was neatly set up with glasses and an assortment of alcohol. And the bed... oh, the bed...She glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “One bed?”
Bruce grumbled something. Walking inside, he dropped the bags onto the bed. “I’ll call the front desk.” He walked towards the bar, and he took out his phone, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he waited.
Meanwhile, she shut the door behind her. Walking over to the balcony, she decided to slide open the door and check out the view. The cool air hit her, causing a bit of a chill run through her arms. Leaning against the railing, she observed the city below. In a typical case, this would have been a lovely vacation weekend, even just staying at the fancy hotel. Days off were rare these days, especially for the League.
Hearing the balcony door open, she turned towards Bruce, who positioned himself next to her against the rail.
“No luck on switching rooms. The whole place is booked, we’ll only be here for the night. I’ll get set up, and you can take the bed; I won’t likely be needing it anyway.” Bruce was looking out towards the city, so he completely missed the disbelief that crossed her face.
“Absolutely not, we can share a bed. We’re grown-ass adults, Bruce.”
He looked back at her, smirking lightly. “I know I am.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “I have self-control, do you?” His voice dropped slightly, still presenting that Playboy smile she saw all the time on tv.
“Don’t smile at me like that.”
“Why?”
She looked back out toward the city, trying to avoid his stare. Which, to her, was arguably more nerve-racking than a stare from Batman.
“Because I don’t know what it means…” glancing back at him, she saw he wasn’t turning away. Playfully, she shoved his shoulder, walking back to the room.
Following her inside, Bruce began pulling out some equipment. Setting up a little base at the office desk, the room had. He sat down at the desk, playing around with some gadget from his belt.
“You really do think of everything.” She said, coming from behind.
Earpieces for communication, tracking devices, binoculars, and even thermal night vision cameras. All spread out on the desk, along with the dual monitor setup he had of the security cameras he hacked into.
“Also, try to be a few steps ahead.” He said
“Is that why you only got a room with one bed?” She teased.
“Funny.” He stated. Looking back up at her, he nodded towards the bathroom. “You can have the bathroom first.”
“You telling me I stink?”
“No, although I can smell a hint of coffee from you.”
Her smile dropped, and she raised her shirt, sniffing slightly. “I worked a shift this afternoon at the diner.” She said, a bit embarrassed now.
“It’s hard to tell, actually, the lavender scent you use covers it pretty well. Although I like the coffee scent too.” He said casually, still messing around with his belt.
“Uhh.. thanks?” She wasn’t sure whether that was his attempt at a compliment.
This whole thing was all bizarre. She spent more time with his dark night persona than his civilian persona, so she really didn’t know him at all after hours of the League.
Leaving him to shower, she went to the bathroom and started unpacking. Once she hopped out, she continued with her nighttime routine, slipping on an oversized shirt and sweats. When she walked out, she noticed Bruce wasn’t in the room anymore. The dual-monitor setup was live, showing footage of the casino across the street, which they were monitoring. She decided to pour herself a drink, taking a seat at the desk and getting settled. She took a sip of her drink and kept watch.
The door opened twenty minutes later, Bruce coming in with a plastic bag in hand. He walked over, placed the bag on the desk, and began unpacking. The smell of food instantly took up the space, just what she needed. He pulled up a chair from the corner and handed her a take-out container.
“Anything interesting happening?” He asked.
“Nope, just a bunch of drunks, money leeches, and nearly bald individuals with deep pockets who wear Tom Ford cologne to impress any reporter who asks, ‘Who are you wearing tonight?’” She raised her voice in an obnoxious tone, using her fork as a makeshift microphone.
She chuckled to herself, glancing over, she saw Bruce had an unamused look. Hesitating for a moment, she dared ask. “Oh… don’t tell me.”
“I wear Tom Ford.” He said flatly.
Sinking further in her chair, she quickly stuffed her mouth with more food, wishing she had the power to be invisible at this moment.
When she heard him chuckle, she looked back over. He was smiling now.
“OH, thank goodness. You were just joking.” She breathed out in relief. “I thought you were being serious.”
“I am.” He said simply. “But I’m not unaware of rich money stereotypes, it’s been my whole life, plus I play the part half the time.”
“Sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine, I’ve met the people you’re describing, and I’m sorry to say you aren’t far off from the behavior they display.”
She messed with her food, seeing how this seemed like a good opportunity to ask questions, she let her curiosity wander.
“You don’t, though. Why is that?” He kept his eyes on the monitors, and she wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard her.
“Alfred.” He finally answered. “I think in the beginning, I would’ve been just like that. Alfred made sure I would stay on track, even when I didn’t make it easy for him.”
“You were just a kid, despite everything, I think you didn’t turn out so bad.” She teased lightly.
“Most would disagree.”
She shrugged. “Batman was the result of who you are, and nobody wouldn’t dare argue with Batman.”
“He nodded, looking back to her. “And Bruce Wayne?”
She sighed as she looked back at him. “I understand that the persona of Bruce Wayne has to maintain certain appearances and behaviors typical of a Playboy billionaire. However, there is another side to that persona—the Bruce Wayne who emphasizes charity events for children. Keeps a hospital running on his own money, on top of publicly supporting the Justice League, although that last part might be biased.” She winked at him, earning a hint of a smile.
The silence filled the room after that, as they both ate and watched the footage. When he finished, he stood and headed towards the bathroom—leaving her alone in the room.
She started taking notes on anything she thought was essential or anyone who seemed suspicious. This stakeout wasn’t anything more than trying to find any familiar faces who could be spotted for tomorrow. The idea was to go undercover and find a few crime bosses who had been on the League's radar for the past couple of months. Bruce ultimately thought this was the best approach to get close without them thinking they were being watched. The last thing they needed was for them to get spooked and go back under the radar.
Who better than Bruce Wayne to have on a high-profile guest list? Luckily, with a plus one included.
Now that got her thinking, why in the world did Diana volunteer her to come with him? Even without Diana having a civilian personality, anyone else would’ve probably been just as capable, if not better, to have around his arm and play side chick.
Diana argued back and forth; she insisted, with overwhelming enthusiasm, that she was the right pick. However, the more she ranted on, the more she felt like Diana was setting her up. She just wasn’t sure why…
The bathroom door opened again. She spun around in her chair and halted her movements mid-bite. She wasn’t trying to stare, but she was getting a live close-up idea of what all the fuss was about in Gotham's hot press. Although she would never admit she reads.
He was the most normal she had ever seen him. Typically, if she weren’t seeing him in his cape and utility belt, she would see him on the cover of a magazine in a fresh suit and tie. Now, here he was in his black tee and joggers, his hair still wet from his shower. He looked like a normal civilian… A really hot civilian…
“What?”
His voice made her jump; she realized instantly that he had caught her staring. Quickly shoving some food in her mouth, she did her best to look unbothered.
“Nothing. Just never thought I would see you without a fancy suit.”
He nodded, using his towel to shake some of the excess water. “You’re one of the few.”
“It must be weird for you to.”
Walking over, he sat himself down and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t say it is.”
She raised a brow at him curiously. “You don’t find me being here odd for you?”
“Should it?”
“It’s just, you're a lot closer to the other League members, so ultimately it makes sense for you to already feel okay in your civilian form. You don’t know me very well, so I just thought maybe my being here wasn’t the most ideal.”
He looked over at her; his stare alone made goosebumps form as she tried to read his expression. Even with his face in full view, he was hard to read.
“I asked for you.” He said simply.
She choked slightly. “What? What do you mean you asked for me? I thought Diana was supposed to come on this mission.”
“Originally, that was the plan, but I requested it be you instead. I thought Diana explained this to you already?” He held a suspicious gaze, likely wondering why Diana would hold back that detail.
“No, she didn’t.” Wondering for a moment, she suddenly became even more curious. “Why did you request me?”
Bruce stayed silent; his expression didn’t show any answers, but she wondered if his lack of quick response was because he was trying to think of an excuse. Ultimately, he just shrugged and looked back at the monitors.
“I thought you would be a better cover.” He said flatly.
Knowing full well he wasn’t going to say anymore, she decided to let it go for now, looking back at the screens herself to keep watch in the silence.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or when she had fallen asleep, but when she woke up, she was in bed, covered with a blanket. Rubbing her eyes, she looked over and saw Bruce was still at the desk, still watching the monitors.
“You’re up.” He spoke up.
“I am.. You got eyes in the back of your head?” She chuckled lightly.
“No, just excellent hearing.” He turned back to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
Pulling the covers off, she stood from the bed. “Nothing, I don’t even remember falling asleep.” Walking over behind him, she hugged herself tightly. The room was colder than she remembered.
“It’s only been a few hours.” He eyed her closely. Then he reached over and grabbed a black hoodie that was draped over the desk. “Here. I can see your goosebumps from here.”
“Oh no, that’s okay-”
“Take it.” He said sternly.
She hesitantly reached over and took the hoodie from him. Pulling it over her head, she wrapped herself tightly in it. Reaching her mid-thigh, she tried to ignore the hint of cologne coming from it. “Tom Ford…” She whispered to herself.
Bruce smiled, “Tom Ford.” He repeated.
“Damn, you really do have good hearing.”
He nodded in agreement.
She swore for a moment she thought he was eyeing her up and down, but it happened so quickly and subtly that maybe she imagined it. His attention was back to the monitors.
“You know this isn’t an all-night stakeout. We just needed to keep an eye on things to see who all showed up. Everything is closed now.” Leaning forward, right behind his shoulder, she tried to see if maybe there actually was anything to watch for. But looking at it more closely now, there really wasn’t much.
“I wanted to make sure about a few doubts before the end of the night.”
She glanced at him curiously. “Doubts?”
He turned his head towards her. Which then made her realize how close they were to each other. It also made her realize how incredibly blue his eyes were. They were stunning.
“You’re staring.”
She cleared her throat, quickly standing up straight. “Sorry.” She muttered.
“Don’t be.” He replied, a hint of a smirk gracing his face.
Trying to ignore the playful tone he had, she leaned over his shoulder and shut off the monitors. “Come on, we both could use some more sleep.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “In the bed?”
“Yes?” She said, already walking back.
“I can sleep on the chair.”
Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms sternly. “Absolutely not. Don’t be a baby, I’m not that bad to sleep with.”
“I bet you aren’t. However, if you’re only saying that to be nice, I’m happy to be here if it makes you more comfortable.”
“Bruce, truly, I am completely okay with sharing a bed. Now hurry up before I handcuff you to the frame.” She lightly threatened.
“Kinky.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed, a real laugh, which made her smile.
Standing from his chair, he walked over to the side she was standing on, gently taking the blanket from her hand, leaving a lingering touch before completely holding it.
“Other side. I’ll be closest to the door.”
For some reason, that sentence alone made her feel light. If that’s what he wanted for them to share a bed, so be it.
She walked around to the other side, pulling back the covers, and both of them slipped under the thin sheet and blanket.
An invisible wall was formed between them, just a couple of feet of space away from touching arms. The air felt thick to her, or maybe it was just nerves.
He was staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked under his head, while his other was lying across his stomach.
She tried to keep her breath slow and light, knowing he could probably feel every moment she made. Perhaps her staying absolutely still would help him sleep.
“You can breathe, ya know.” He turned his head towards her, a soft smile appearing.
Her breath released, laughing in disbelief. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
She turned her body towards him, tucking her right arm underneath her pillow. “You’re so observant.”
“I’m cautious.”
She frowned at that. “Like, you’re in danger?”
“Just… always aware.”
“Am I that threatening?” She teased.
He shook his head, amused. “No, it’s not that. You’re actually pretty calming, believe it or not.”
“Diana has told me that before. I’m not sure I understand what it means.”
“The rest of the League have found you to be a source of relief in a different way. I believe it’s an opportunity for them to gain a sense of stability. Especially when you're on watch at the tower.” His voice was sincere, and the intense eye contact was a little embarrassing.
“Wow, that's actually really nice to hear. I didn’t know the others thought of me like that.” She said sheepishly.
“They all adore you for sure, even J’onn.”
“And what about Batman?” She teased, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. “Does he also adore me?”
He stared at her for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Good night.”
She groaned out, annoyed. “Aww, common, that's so not fair.”
Shutting his eyes, he had a prideful smile on his face. “See you in the morning.”
Turning to lie on her back, she stared at the ceiling, trying her best to count the sheep and let sleep consume her.
Even with all the sheep she counted, the sleep she wanted didn’t show up. Maybe it was because she was in an unfamiliar environment, or maybe because the huge man was sleeping a couple of feet away.
At some point, she heard his breathing grow quiet, and his chest was showing slower movements. He was asleep. Good, he deserved it. Luck wasn’t on her side, though.
She was just about to get up and make another drink, but Bruce shifted slightly, which paused her movements to a halt until she waited to see what he would do next. He started to grunt a bit; his face was scrunched up, like he was in pain.
“Bruce?” She called out, leaning up on her elbow, and she reached her hand out to touch his shoulder. He was sweating. His face had tightened, and his breathing sounded staggered.
She thought maybe she should get a cool rag, but Bruce suddenly turned towards her, his arm whipped its way over her waist, and he pulled her closer. His eyes were still closed, but his expression was still uncomfortable. She shifted down a bit and slipped her arm under his head, hoping to give him more support so his neck wouldn’t hurt.
His breathing started to even out, and she saw that his face relaxed, as if he wasn't in pain. She rested her chin on his head, using the arm he was lying on, and she reached up to play with the hair on the back of his head.
His arm was completely behind her now, sneaking up her back and resting right between her shoulder blades. She could feel his breath on her collarbone; it was starting to return to normal, and he stopped grunting out.
Maybe this was too personal; perhaps she should've tried to wake him up, but it was almost four in the morning, and it wasn’t that long ago she forced him to sleep. She wondered if this was a normal thing for him, if he struggled to sleep at night. Perhaps that was why he stayed out late in Gotham, or always volunteered for the overnight shift at the Watchtower. He was always there, and the team often joked that he never slept. Looking at him now, maybe he really doesn’t.
She listened closely to his breathing, using it to focus on her own and help her go back to sleep. It wasn’t too long before she felt it harder for her to keep her eyes open.
When she awoke again, the sun had made its way into the room, shining through the curtains, which created a beautiful glow on the ceiling. She felt a comforting feeling in her hair, smooth movements going throughout as she enjoyed the relaxing touch that was almost luring her back to sleep.
Focusing more on blinking her eyes awake, it became clear to her the position she was in. Her head was laid on the pillow, but her arm was draped across a pair of legs, and the source of her comfort she was feeling was coming from a hand that, when following her eyes up, she saw came from Bruce.
He was sitting up, his laptop on his lap, typing away with his right hand while his left hand was in her hair.
She suddenly went still; her embarrassment was starting to take over as she realized she was basically hugging onto him. Before she could do anything else, he looked down at her, a soft smile greeting her.
“Good morning.” He said, his voice still having that raspy, deep voice, probably from just waking up.
She cleared her throat, slowly pulled her hand off of him, and hugged her arms to herself. Still wearing his hoodie, she suddenly remembered.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Not long.” He said. Moving his laptop towards her, she saw he had some profiles of what she assumed was the guest they were supposed to be keeping an eye on.
“You’ve been studying.”
“Just getting prepared.” He stated.
Looking towards the bar, she noticed there were a couple of metal trays. “Did you order food?”
He followed where she was looking. He nodded, pulled back the blanket, and walked over to the bar, taking off the tray cover. There were two plates underneath, which he brought back over to the bed. “I ordered this only half an hour ago. It’s still nice and hot.”
She grinned widely, and a slight shake of her shoulders caused a chuckle from him. “Nothing makes me more excited than food.” Grabbing the plate, she dug in.
“I’m not surprised by that.” Taking a seat in front of her on the bed, he started eating himself.”
As she started eating, it suddenly dawned on her a bit more. “You ordered this half an hour ago?”
“Yeah.” He said casually.
“But, you decided to wait to eat till now?” She asked hesitantly.
She watched as he paused instantly. For the first time ever, she saw him get nervous. It gave her a giddy feeling. Trying to cover her smile, she shoved another bit of food in her mouth. Bruce, on the other hand, cleared his throat and shifted a bit.
Thinking they would finish the rest of their meal in silence, she was surprised when he spoke up. “I thought it might be nice.” It was so soft and quiet she almost didn’t catch it.
She didn’t hide her smile this time. “Thanks.” She said. Knowing he wasn’t gonna say anything else, she happily ate the rest of her food.
Once they were finished, both of them started getting ready for the day. Bruce had already put together a plan with Clark from the watchtower. Diana herself was going to be staying nearby in a building, waiting for any chance that something could go wrong.
She could see Bruce from the bathroom, the door slightly ajar as she finished her hair. He was still on a call with Clark. Standing at the bar, fixing the cufflinks on his suit. “I’m already going to be inside unarmed, not sure what else you expect.”
“You won’t be alone, and I would place my bets on you, unarmed or not.” Clark's voice came through.
Bruce rolled his eyes, his glare she could see from here. “I can’t do anything in a room full of cameras, I’m supposed to play billionaire, charismatic, asshole to get close to these men.”
“Well, you got that last part down to a tee.” Clark joked.
“Funny,” Bruce said dryly. “Just keep in touch.”
“I will, and Wonder Woman is close by,” Clark reassured. “How’s the lucky couple's first night?”
“Fine.” He spat out.
“Just fine?” Clark questioned.
“She’s getting ready now. Once shes ready, we’ll meet up with Diana and-” Bruce stopped himself short, glancing over when he heard the bathroom door creak open.
Emerging from the bathroom, she was finishing putting in her earring. The dress she was wearing was something Diana picked out for her. It fell just above her ankle, had an open back that reached to her lower back, and the sleeves ended just above her forearms. The dress was black, the front hugging her chest; it was incredibly soft and comfortable, despite its tight look. Bruce was still staring unashamedly; he hadn’t moved since he saw her come from the bathroom.
“You ready to go meet Diana?” She asked.
Bruce opened his mouth, but Clark loudly jumped in. “OH, he's more than ready! Aren’t you Mr Wayne?” Clark's tone was definitely teasing, earning him a distasteful look from Bruce.
Walking beside him, she leaned against Bruce to fit into the video frame. “Hi, Clark.”
He grinned widely, his eyes lighting up instantly. “Wow, you look incredible. Really ready for the part of being Mr. Wayne's plus one.”
“Heh, thanks, I think?” She laughed nervously.
A loud, playful whistle suddenly came up. The Flash appeared right next to Clark, with a cheesy grin.” Whoa, look who came out to play, that dress looks fantastic on you.” Flash praised, giving a playful wink.
She felt Bruce grunt; she thought it might be disapproval. Glancing up at him, she saw he was death glaring at the Flash, his arms crossed across his chest.
“Thanks, Barry. Diana helped me pick it. I’ll probably return it, though. I don't really need something like this in my everyday life.”
“Oh, don’t get rid of it so quickly!” Flash called out. “Hey! I got a Flash appreciation day coming up, wouldn’t mind a beautiful-” Suddenly, the laptop screen was slammed shut.
Jumping back from the sudden action, she saw Bruce had his hand placed firmly on the laptop. Looking very stoic, he quickly grabbed his blazer, mumbling under his breath about needing to leave. She watched him cross the room to finish grabbing his wallet and watch from the bedside desk.
Slipping on her heels, she grabbed her crossbody bag and put in the earpiece that could let her communicate with Clark and Diana. Walking over to the front door, she waited patiently for Bruce as he finished putting on his gold watch.
He reached over and opened the bedside desk. Pulling out a black velvet case, he walked over to her, popping open the case to show a golden necklace. It was a thin chain with the end of it dangling a stunning diamond pendant.
“Uh, what's this?” She smiled nervously.
“Put this on, it’ll make the show of us being together more convincing.” He stated simply, unhooking the necklace, he held it in his hand.
“Bruce… Is that real?” She had her mouth agape, looking at him like he was joking.
He frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Of course it’s real.”
“Oh, Bruce, I can’t wear that.” She said sheepishly, watching the necklace sway in his hand.
“Why not?” He asked. It made her smile how innocently he said it. This man was just standing there with a necklace worth a year's worth of what she made. Yet he wondered what the hesitation was.
“That is a beautiful necklace… It’s just, I don’t know.”
He seemed to catch on to the sudden gesture, so he thought to try a new approach. “Well, if I’m going to show you off for the men, I find it only makes sense we make the women there jealous as well. Seems appropriate, don’t you think?”
She laughed, shaking her head as she thought more of the idea that Bruce Wayne was trying to show her off, not the other way around.
His tone was softer now. Stepping closer, he closed the space between them, which only made her more nervous. “Please? Let me help you put it on?”
She glanced up at him; his eyes were definitely hard to look away from, the brilliant blue and the hint of pleading were hard to say no to. “Okay, sure.” Turning away from him, she pulled her hair to the front as she waited for him to approach.
The necklace came around, his cold hands brushed her shoulder gently, sending a chill down her spine. His breath could be felt right below her ear as he started to clip together the chain. She could smell his cologne with how close he was; she couldn’t help herself as she laughed.
“Something funny?” He asked, causing her to stiffen.
Shaking her head quickly, she fixed her posture. “No, I’m just thinking. The cologne you’re wearing.”
Bruce hummed knowingly. “You going to make fun of it again?”
“No, I was just thinking, it's actually pretty nice.”
When she heard the clip latch behind her, she instantly noticed the lasting touch he held before eventually pulling away. She felt a breath she didn’t realize she was holding release.
She turned back around. He stood staring at the necklace hanging from her neck.
“Well, what do you think?” She held up her hands in presentation.
His eyes left the necklace, following down her body and then going back up to her eyes. He smirked lightly. “It definitely made me sure of two things. The first one being, I won't be taking that necklace back.”
Confused, she watched as he grabbed the room key and phone. Opening the door, he held out his hand for her. Taking it hesitantly, she felt his hand shift as he interlocked his fingers with hers, squeezing his grip gently as he led them out.
“You said there were two things you were sure of? What was the other thing?” She questioned curiously.
He kept walking, but glanced back to look at her with a mischievous smile. “You’re definitely going to have more opportunity to wear that dress. However, not with the Flash.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked down to avoid his gaze. Seeing their intertwined hands, she couldn't keep the grin and a bit of excitement at the thought of finding out soon where she can wear the dress next.
We made it through the first month and are now here for day one of our 14 day count down till valentines.
Im not gonna lie I went overboard the first couple days and then I remembered I was gonna just do little one shots 😭 I hope short story or long y’all enjoy the next 14 days, and even though I don’t have a great idea of organizing all these story for the next couple weeks I’ll figure it out later. In the meantime, lots of love, and enjoy the next couple weeks! Thanks for the support!
A/n: hello loves, happy new year, I hope 2026 treats you good.
Starting February 1st I thought of doing a 14 days till valentines treat. I wanna write a story for each day till valentines starting the first. I’m kinda doing it cliche and sappy type so any suggestions for which types of trope (example: One bed left for hotel) I would much appreciate it.
Story’s will be one shot types and it can be Batman or Bruce Wayne. I likely will just pick and choose and if I can’t get to all I can always do anything else for future fics!
Thank you all for the help and support this last year.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A/n: This was supposed to come out on Christmas, obviously, sorry about that.
Summary: It's Christmas, and one little girl hopes to meet her favorite Justice League member.
Paring: Bruce Wayne x reader
Word Count:2.5k
“This is such a beautiful event.” She complimented.
Her coworker looked up and nodded. “It’s cool we got invited. I didn’t know all the staff were allowed.”
“Mr Wayne sure knows how to throw a party.” She said, looking around at the crystal-like chandeliers that hung around. Catching the moonlight from the open glass ceiling of the venue, it made the room shine with color.
“Even the Justice League is here!”
Looking over, she saw he was right. Walking in were Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, and the Flash.
“It makes sense.” She said, “This is a party to raise money for the children’s hospital, and the kids being here was a great idea. Especially if they get to meet their favorite heroes.”
“You think Batman will show?” Her coworker asked with a childish look in his eyes.
Shaking her head, she gently pats his shoulder. “I don’t think parties are his thing.”
Suddenly, the kids spotted the heroes, instantly reacting with excitement. She watched as they all ran over to greet them, all of them talking over each other.
The League didn’t seem phased in the slightest; in fact, they quickly jumped into conversation with the kids. Making sure each kid got some type of attention.
When she looked around, she noticed there was one kid who didn’t rush up to the heroes. She stayed behind and watched from afar as she kept looking around, seeming to look for something, or someone?
Walking over, she let her curiosity get the better of her. Maybe she was just too shy to go up on her own.
“Hi.” She greeted.
The little girl looked up shyly at her. Giving her a small smile and a wave, she went back to focusing on the crowd of kids and the heroes.
Following her line of sight, she crouched down to be more at eye level with her. “What are you looking for?”
“He’s not here. I thought maybe he would come.” She said, sounding more disappointed with each word.
“Who?”
The little girl looked at her, turning towards her and pulling down her zipper on her jacket. A pink Batman emblem on a white shirt is presented.
“Oh wow, that’s a great shirt.” She praised the young girl.
“Thanks! My mom made it for me. I thought I could show him, but-“ she looked back to the league members with the rest of the kids. A small frown came into view as she looked longingly at the group. “I guess he’s busy.”
The look she was giving broke her heart, the disappointment clearly showing as she watched the other kids with their favorite heroes.
“Yeah, maybe he is.” She said to herself.
“It’s okay, I'm still happy to see the others.” Pulling up her jacket zipper, she gave her a little wave goodbye as she quickly went to join the rest of the kids.
Standing up and watching her run away, she quickly took out her phone. Sending a quick text, she hoped he would say yes. Hoping to make sure all the kids got a chance to see their heroes tonight.
It only took a few minutes for a response to come through. A big grin appeared on her face as she read the simple words.
Be there soon.
Quickly sending a text back, she didn’t waste any time getting ready to sneak the little girl away.
The whole room was still eating and drinking the party favors, talking among each other, and the kids were playing and having a blast with the other League members.
When an opportunity came up for most in the room to be distracted, she walked up to the little girl who was currently eating from one of the candy bowls.
“Hey there.”
The little girl turned around, a big grin in response. “Hi again.”
Leaning down, she leaned forward and checked one last time to see if anyone was listening. “I have a surprise for you, but we have to be sneaky about it.”
Her eyes got big, clearly intrigued by the thought. “Like a mission.” She whispered, looking all around her.
The action was cute, and she nodded, holding out her hand. She motioned to the little girl to follow her.
Taking her hand eagerly, she followed her and even used her tiptoes to try to be quiet.
When they avoided the crowd without any questions. The little girl relaxed, walking beside her and looking around the small hallway. “Where are we going?” She asked.
“There’s someone who wants to meet you.”
Finally stopping at one of the doors away from the main venue, she opened it, and they both went inside.
A big conference room littered with chairs and a long table. It was dark, with only the light from the moon making it possible to see where they were going.
Closing the door behind them, the little girl walked in further. Clearly confused, she turned back around. “So, what’s the surprise? Who wanted to meet me?”
Suddenly, a creak from the floor came from behind the little girl. She jumped and swiftly turned around, taking a few steps back.
Right from the shadows of one of the big curtains, Batman emerged, his body slowly coming into view of the moonlight and out of the dark shadows.
For a moment, she wondered if Batman had scared the little girl. Maybe she should’ve turned on the lights or told him not to hide from her so creepily.
But all doubts were quickly washed away when the little girl suddenly started to jump up and down. She laughed happily, quickly running in his direction and jumping towards him.
Batman reacted quicker, lowering himself down and catching her gracefully as she wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him in a hug.
She let out a breath of relief, grinning from ear to ear as she took in the sight of the two.
When she pulled away from him, she smiled big as her eyes lit up at him standing in front of her. “You made it!” She said excitedly.
“I did. Sorry, I’m late.” He gently picked her up and walked her over to one of the conference chairs. Sitting down, he placed her on his left leg.
“It’s okay! You’re here now!”
Her reaction managed to get a crack of a smile from him. Even if the little girl couldn’t tell, he was really enjoying this.
“Look! I wanted to show you my shirt.” Quickly pulling down her jacket zipper, she proudly presented the pink emblem.
He nodded in approval, looking back at her. “Impressive, I like It.”
“Really?” She said, her eyes getting big. “Even though it’s not black?”
“Really, it’s a shame I couldn’t wear it since it sticks out. I wouldn’t be able to sneak around.”
Suddenly, she perked up. “It’s okay, I already thought of that!”
Confused, Batman watched as she dug around in her pocket, a small white bracelet with the same pink emblem right on top.
“I figured you couldn’t wear the shirt, so I asked my mom to make me something smaller for you. Now you can wear it without it being too noticeable.” She looked up at him, gushing as she held it out.
Batman smiled. A small smile, but just enough that he could show his appreciation. “Would you mind putting it on for me?”
The girl nodded eagerly as he held out his right wrist. She was quick to put it on and snap the back closed, tightening it just enough so that it would slip off.
Batman held out his hand. “Looks great. A perfect fit.”
This look alone was exactly what she hoped would happen. A happy, genuine, beautiful smile.
There was so much that all these kids went through, and knowing she helped one of them have one night to forget all the hard times. It was all worth it.
A few voices could be heard from nearby, instantly gaining the attention of everyone in the room.
The little girl hopped off his lap. “I think they might be looking for me.”
“Damn. I was really hoping they wouldn’t notice I took you for longer.” She looked back sadly at the girl.
Instead of disappointment, though, the little girl grinned, rushing to give her a hug, which she quickly accepted. Looking up at her, she smiled widely. “This was the best day ever.” Looking back at Batman, she ran over and jumped into his arms. When she pulled away, she looked back at him. “Thanks for seeing me.” She took a step back. Both watched as the little girl skipped happily to the door.
They both watched her from afar, her tutu flowing with each happy skip she took. Just before she opened the door, she looked back at Batman with a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Batman.”
He smiled, the most she had ever seen Batman smile before. “Merry Christmas.” He said softly.
Opening the door, she looked out in both directions, sneaking off back to the party. The room was silent for a moment. She couldn’t help but feel the warmth knowing the little girl could have a memorable Christmas.
Suddenly, she felt an arm sneak around her waist, pulling her in gently and moving her to sit on his left leg. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she settled herself closer to him. Her left hand rested over his leathered one that was settled on her thigh.
“Thank you for doing this.” She said softly.
He stared at her for a moment; his white eyes were an intimidating look, especially when he didn’t speak. Reaching up, he swiftly pulled back his mask, the bright white being replaced with the familiar bright blue she was always used to seeing.
“I was passing by.” He smiled, moving small strands of loose hair from her face.
She rolled her eyes, playing with the baby hairs on his neck. She leaned forward to kiss the side of his cheek. “Yeah, right. You big softy. I know Batman could never leave a kid sad on Christmas.”
He nodded in agreement, moving to stand up. He kept his hands on her as he moved off the chair. “I should go. Alfred will be here soon to take you home.” Looking down, he started to mess with the white bracelet from the little girl.
Confused, she tilted her head to try to look at him better. “What’s wrong?” She asked.
“Nothing. I’m glad you called me.”
“You made her Christmas. She’ll probably never forget that.” When she still noticed he was deep in thought, she reached her hand out to grip his. “Bruce. What are you thinking about?”
“I might not see her next year.” He clenched his jaw slightly. “I might not see any of them next year.”
She frowned at that. He would get into these troubled thoughts when it came to kids. They were his soft spot, and he hated seeing them suffer more than anyone else. Especially when it came to illness, that was something that not even he could control, and he hated it.
“This isn’t something you can solve or make sense of, only that you can try to give them days like this. She won’t forget this, and as much as you terrify the guys who harm the city, you seem to be a real hit with the kids.”
He looked back at her, his eyes softened, and he seemed to relax his shoulders a bit. Standing up on her tippy toes, she kissed him goodbye, smiling a bit when he lifted her a bit to help her reach him. Lowering her back down, he took a step back while putting his mask back on. He headed towards the window, looking back to watch her leave the room.
She headed towards the main room, hearing the Christmas music get louder and the people chatting and laughing. When she entered the room, she noticed all the kids were gathered around and listening to the Flash as he was telling a Christmas story to the kids.
The parents watched from afar, seeming to enjoy the entertainment the Flash was giving. He was making faces and doing a different voice for each character in the story. She looked around to see Superman and Wonder Woman talking to each other next to the fireplace.
Walking over to them, she smiled widely. Giving Wonder Woman a quick side hug, she waved up to Superman.
“Everyone is enjoying themselves, the kids and the adults.” Superman praised.
She nodded in agreement, looking around, she instantly caught sight of the little girl from before. Laughing with the other kids as the Flash made a funny noise again. “I’m glad, they deserve to have a good Christmas.”
“Look! Look!” One of the kids suddenly yelled out.
Everyone in the room suddenly looked to the huge window where he was pointing.
A shadow of a figure was seen just looming over the building's roof right next door. The moonlight gave the shadow a bigger effect, but the Christmas lights outside were bright enough that it was clear who the shadow belonged to.
“Batman!” Another kid yelled out. Suddenly, all the kids got up and ran to the big window behind where the Flash was sitting. They all pointed and looked in awe to see him there. Even the parents were taken aback to see him so close and seen. It was really a rare sight.
Batman raised his hand and started waving, but his eyesight was looking straight ahead and behind the kids. When a few of them turned around, their eyes got big. Following their line of sight, everyone saw Santa Claus himself enter from the front door.
The rest of the kids turned, and instantly their attention was on Santa; all of them went running towards him, their eyes lighting up with excitement. Surrounding him, they started asking questions, one kid even asking if he and Batman were friends.
Superman chuckled lightly. Looking back to the window, he noted that Batman was no longer in sight, then turning back to ‘Santa.’ “Is that.. Alfred?” Superman whispered.
“Oh yeah, it took a whole lot of convincing.” She laughed nervously.
“And Batman too? I’m assuming you had something to do with him making an appearance tonight?”
She shrugged. “That one actually didn’t take as much convincing.”
Wonder Women scoffed. “You’ll have to teach me your secret.”
“There is no secret.” Flash suddenly popped up from behind. “He can’t say no to her. We can’t compete, even on Christmas.”
Alfred- Or Santa glanced up at everyone, his eyes looking desperate and pleading. Superman laughed. “I'd better try to save him.”
“I’ll come along.” Flash followed.
Looking around, she caught sight of the little girl from before. She stood by the window, looking up and waving towards the big window. Seeing a glimpse of a shadow, she couldn’t help but smile, knowing full well who she was waving at.
a/n: This is a story I thought of one night. A little cliche, but basically it's a childhood friends-to-lovers type story. I'm thinking maybe about five parts.
Summary: A young Bruce Wayne is dealing with handling his own company while his childhood friend is trying to handle being the new rookie at the GCPD. Little did she know he was right by her side the whole time.
Bruce x Reader
Word Count:2.8k
Halloween in every other town was as normal as it gets; however, in Gotham, it was the GPD's worst nightmare. Every year seemed worse than the last. And this year was no exception.
Working late was to be expected; everyone was either out on parole, finishing case files, or already at a location for a call. Multiple people have already been brought into the holding. Drunk or crazy, which pretty much summed up the night every officer in the city was going to have tonight.
Looking up from her desk, she tried to ignore the shouting and gross comments coming from within the cells. Being the rookie here meant she got the worst desk, which just so happened to be several feet from the overnight cells.
The headache alone was enough to make an excuse to go to the bathroom for only a few minutes, just to get a moment of silence. Suddenly, the sound of a plastic cup hitting her table caught her attention.
Looking up, she saw none other than Commissioner Gordon. He placed a cup of coffee in front of her, a soft smile on his face. So far, since she had arrived, he was one of the very few who had treated her with kindness and wouldn't drop to the childish behavior of the whole rookie status.
"Perhaps you should take a break on the roof for a bit?" He gave her a sympathetic smile.
The offer was there, a silent plea to try and get out of sight for now. Both of them knew there wouldn't be a chance of peace until things died down.
“Yeah… sure, that sounds nice.” She felt the eyes of a few officers around her.
Gordon obviously noticed too. He cleared his throat loudly. Quickly drawing those lingering eyes away. He looked back at her, motioning to the stairway up to the roof.
Standing from her chair, she smiled gratefully, taking the coffee with her to the roof.
Emerging from the rusty doors, she leaned against the roof railing, looking out to the city lights and taking in the glimmer that the previous rainfall had caused.
A few sirens could be heard in the distance; a few fires had already been set tonight, so the fire department was likely running short tonight. Even the hospitals had almost reached full capacity due to more gun wounds than normal. Halloween was the most violent day of the year, and it was only getting worse as the night pushed on.
There was no true silence in the city; it was filled with noise. She watched on, trying to keep her mind off the fact that soon she would have to descend back downstairs.
A chilling tingle shot up her back, her senses heightened as she quickly reached for her gun. Spinning around swiftly, she pointed the gun in the opposite direction.
A shadow, probably around six feet, moved for a very brief moment, which would’ve made her doubt if it was truly there or not if she missed it.
“I know you’re there.” She called aloud.
The figure moved forward, and the light of the moon slowly hit from top to bottom, showing its full body now.
She let out a sigh of relief, lowering her gun and putting it back in her holster. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
Batman moved his head to the side, but didn’t reply.
Turning back around, she went back to leaning against the ledge of the building. “Yes, yes, I know. It’s what you do.”
The silence took over, to no surprise, really. This was what he was like from her experience. Gordon was the only one he ever really spoke to, and even then, not much was said coming from his side.
She heard him move closer; his leather-heavy boots were shockingly quiet. He was known for staying in the shadows, never to be truly seen unless he chose to be.
“Where’s the commissioner?” His voice came out low and deep, the loudest she had ever heard it. Which wasn’t much.
“Downstairs, probably trying to keep the rookies from setting something on fire…” She didn’t mean to have such a bitter tone, although this whole week wasn’t filled with any sort of welcome from anyone around here.
“Problem?”
“Nothing but the normal rookie treatment.”
He looked out towards the city, copying the same position as her. Raising a brow, she looked at him curiously. “Uh.. are you taking a break?”
“I’m observing.” He stated flatly.
“On the roof?” She asked.
“Problem?” He asked, looking to her.
She could’ve sworn she saw a small hint of a smile, but as quickly as it was there, it was gone. Looking back out, she shook her head.
“No… no problem.”
She chose not to say anything to Gordon about seeing Batman last night; it would just be another thing for her coworkers to harass her about, and she didn’t need any more heat than she was already getting.
This morning was much more relaxed, and most of the chaos from last night's Halloween was almost like it never happened. Typical Gotham.
On her way to work, she thought about stopping for some coffee and dropping one off to a friend.
Which is how she ended up outside of Wayne International.
The building was one of the tallest in Gotham, and never ceased to make an impression every time she saw it.
Walking inside, she was instantly met by the morning security guard. That was her first stop.
“Good morning, Walt.” She greeted, handing him one of the four coffees she had.
Instantly, he perked up; his smile was always big when he saw her, and the dimples he had made it all the better. Although he could’ve been old enough to retire twice, Bruce insisted on keeping him around. Always said his energy was what he wanted his employees to see when they walked through the door.
He was here when Thomas ran the company, and it’s been said that he will continue to be until Bruce passes it on to someone else.
“Oh dear, you can’t be spoiling me now.” Leaning forward, he whispered while glancing at the other two security guards who stood several feet away. “They might start to think you’re playing favorites.”
Leaning towards him, she copied his quiet tone. “You are my favorite.”
He grinned at that, leaning back in his chair and taking a drink. “He just got to his office half an hour ago. Want me to tell him you’re coming up?”
“Nah, I’ll keep it a surprise today.” She called out as she walked towards the elevator doors. Scanning her badge and taking a step inside, she waved goodbye as the doors closed.
There were only a few people who had complete access to Wayne Tower who weren’t employees. Bruce insisted years ago that she should have a badge, just as an emergency.
Although these days she only uses her access to bring him coffee and food on her way to work.
Just as the doors reopened, she was met with sweet, friendly eyes, his assistant.
Another one of the people who also worked under Bruce’s father when he ran the company. It made her happy to know he was surrounded by loyal and sweet people.
When Bruce was finally old enough to take over, he offered all the employees their jobs back, especially since it had gone through a bad time with the board making decisions and trying to get rid of people to make a point.
Most came back, while some rooted for him from the sidelines. Then, as soon as he became the majority member, he made really big changes, starting with the huge bonus for current employees and the back pay checks to those who got fired after his parents' passing, even if they chose not to come back.
“Coffee?”
The reaction said it all.
“Oh, absolutely. Thank you so much, sweetheart.” Reaching forward and quickly taking a sip, she glanced towards Bruce’s office doors.
“He’s inside, but tread lightly; he’s been a little more stressed than normal.” She warned.
“Did something happen?”
Sighing, she shook her head. “There were a few disagreements with this month's lack of public events. The board is insisting he plans double this time for the extra publicity.”
“He hasn’t really been in the social eye lately. I meant to ask why, but I’ve just been so focused on studying lately.”
“Oh, baby! He told me you passed. I’m so proud of you!” She gushed.
“Thanks, and I’ll talk to him about the lack of public eye.”
Walking to the door, she hesitated for a moment. He was talking to someone, or more like arguing? Quietly cracking it open, she peeked inside to see if there was someone in there.
Bruce was standing on the opposite side of his desk, his hands planted while he leaned forward. The phone was right below him, the other voice coming from the line.
“They don’t need to be flashed with money; it’s an unnecessary waste to try and chat up these people when all they care about is the media input,” Bruce said, his tone was clearly annoyed, and she could tell the patients were wearing thin.
Walking more inside, she quietly closed the door behind her. This caused him to glance up at her, a small smile breaking through.
She walked over to the chair across from him, setting his coffee aside the phone, and she smiled as he whispered a soft thank you.
His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his blazer dropped across his office chair, and the gel from his hair was already starting to wear off.
“Mr Wayne! You have had no public appearances in over two months; this isn’t about the pleasure of the event. These people can help fund future projects, giving us access to new technology by next year!” The man on the phone did not attempt to budge.
“We are getting enough funding; their money should go to real causes, not investments,” Bruce mumbled. A childish act, but clearly he has reached his peak.
“Two events, just this month. One for the deep pockets and one for a charity of your choosing. Show up to both, or we’re gonna have to pull the money from somewhere else.” Before Bruce could respond, the man continued. “We will discuss more details about this in tomorrow's conference, have your assistant be ready for the themes of both.” And just like that, the line went dead.
Bruce's fist hit the table, and his head hung as he took a moment to set aside his frustration.
She waited patiently for him to say something first. Normally, he was pretty good about keeping a cool and calm behavior with the board, mostly to keep them off his back, but also because some of them supported him when he took over.
Taking a seat, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. When he finally did open them, he looked at her.
Resting his head in his palm, his small smile had returned, and his brows were no longer scrunched. “Hi.” He said simply.
“Hi, I see you’ve already had a busy morning.” She teased.
Bruce growned. “Funny.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he sighed in relief. “That’s amazing.”
Raising a brow, she took a drink of her own coffee. “So… two events this month?”
Bruce frowned. “It’s all the board has been talking about this week. Just my public appearance.”
When she didn’t respond, he looked at her curiously. “What?”
She shrugged. “It’s just, you really haven’t made a public appearance in a while. Doesn’t seem like a horrible idea.”
“You’re kidding.” He said deadpan.
“Bruce, I know you don’t like the public show, but the people of Gotham don’t know that, I mean… you’re still portrayed as Gotham's biggest bachelor.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not all billionaire owners need a public life.”
“You do.” She stated. “Look. You do these types of things to not only keep onlookers happy, but also to keep awareness of what the company supports.” Taking another sip of coffee, she tried to keep in mind what his assistant said about treading lightly. “Think about Lucius.”
Bruce's brow furrowed. “Lucius?”
“He helps with most of this company’s technology side, which means most of the funding will go to him and his department.” She smiled, seeing the gears in his head start to turn. “Plus, a charity event of your choice will really be a good opportunity to increase the donations Wayne Interpries already supports.”
He pursed his lips, thinking it over more he leaned back in his chair again. “Fine.”
“Cool!” She cheered.
“But you will be my plus one.”
That instantly took the smile off her face. “What?”
Bruce smirked. “Since you wanna see this all planned out, you’ll be there. I’ll also invite the commissioner.”
“Bruce, you know that’s not my scene.” She urged.
He nodded. “I do, but since you’re all for me going back to the public eye. I expect your support in person.”
Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms across her chest. She started to think deeper about what the man on the phone said, and it got her curious.
“Why haven’t you been in the public eye lately?” She questioned.
“What do you mean?” He asked, logging into his computer.
“What are you so busy with outside of here that you have going on?”
Bruce stopped typing, glancing in her direction. “I’ve just been busy.”
She squinted at him. “Busy?”
“Busy.” He looked at her, not even blinking.
“Whatever, don’t tell me then.” She said. Drinking her coffee, she checked her phone to look at the time. Technically, it was still early if she went to work now, and she would rather soak in the awkwardness than go in early.
“How’s work?”
She nearly choked; it’s like he knew what she was thinking. “Works fine.”
Bruce leaned forward in his chair, his arms resting on top of his desk. “What about your fellow officers?”
She shrugged. “They are fine.”
“If they are messing with you-“
“It’s fine, Bruce, don’t get all protective over me, I can handle it.” She quickly tried to shut down where this conversation was going.
“Only because I care.” He smiled softly.
“I know you do, but we’re adults now. This isn’t like when we were in middle school.”
“Except I was the one who needed help, not you.”
“I don’t need help, and those kids were hardly a threat.” A hint of a smile shows from thinking about it.
“One was bigger than you, and you still punched him in the face.”
She laughed lightly, standing up from the chair. “Yeah, well. Those were your bullies. I should go clock in to deal with mine.”
Bruce frowned at that comment. Always helping others and never wanting any help in return.
Standing up himself, he walked around the desk next to her. “Come on, I’ll walk you back down.”
“Ah, my trusty right-hand man, on we go then.” She grinned, holding out her elbow.
Bruce rolled his eyes, taking her arm and interlocking it together.
She waved bye to his assistant, and they made it to the elevator. Each of them on one side leaning against the wall.
“You know.” He started. “You don’t have to bring coffee almost every time you go to work. We have really good coffee here.”
“Well, I hardly see you anymore. It’s kinda my only way to hang out with my best friend. Be the personal coffee runner.” She teased.
“What are you talking about? We see each other all the time.” He said.
She frowned at that. “No, we don’t.” She said flatly. “Bruce, ever since I graduated, your nights are filled with you being busy, while mine are filled with desk reports. We haven’t hung out in months.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, oh.”
The elevator doors opened. She went to exit first, but Bruce reached across to grab her arm gently.
She looked down at his hold on her arm, then back up at him. “What?”
“Dinner at the manor, Alfred would love to see you.”
“Oh, just Alfred, huh?” She smirked.
Bruce rolled his eyes, his grip on her arm loosening. “Okay, fine, we both would love to have you over.”
“You know, there is another way for us to see each other more…” she pretended to contemplate.
“Which would be?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“For you to get arrested.” Patting his shoulder, she started to walk backwards towards the front entrance. “Every Gotham woman's dream.”
He leaned against the elevator doorway, crossing his arms as he watched her get further away. “For me to be arrested?”
“To see you in handcuffs.” She winked at him jokingly.
Walt raised his head this time. Looking back and forth between the two, ultimately chose not to get involved.
“Is that a yes?” Bruce called out, the hint of annoyance she was hoping to achieve in his tone.
“Yes, I’ll see you tonight!”
Swiftly turning around, she exited the front doors, while Bruce himself went back inside the elevator and to his office.
