#-if he brought it to Bruce’s attention brucie wayne would have a lot to say on it in a way that Batman couldn’t but also also

[starlooove]

Ok like i know the whole no metas in Gotham thing is a lot more nuanced than most fans take it BUT I kinda like fanon interpretation here just bc I want Duke to have a network of metas connected in Gotham

Edit: I always make the full post in the tags but honestly it derailed so much that I think my point isn’t even necessarily entirely abt Duke and metas but basically I like Duke and everyone else does by default now. If y’all won’t woobify him the way I want I’ll do it myself

#like #imo I think it’s funny if Gotham citizens took the idea of no metas in Gotham way too literally #to the point of ostracization #funny was not the right word there but im not going back so anyways I meant interesting #and Duke himself doesn’t rlly give a fuck #he discovered his powers post the whole Batman thing and he personally knows that the way Bruce sees it is not the way the average gothamite #-sees it but he also knows that Batman doesn’t do much to actively dissuade them but he also knows PSAs are not how barman operates and that #-if he brought it to Bruce’s attention brucie wayne would have a lot to say on it in a way that Batman couldn’t but also also #-ppl OUTSIDE of Gotham and even withing Gotham use the meta thing to their advantage and it’d be a shitstorm so he needs to wait and plan #which sucks. #anyways this is all to say that Duke is friends with literally everyone in a way that other members of the batfam can’t be due to #the intersections of his identity. take that as you will. #and honestly if we wanna go an X-men type route #metas that ARENT heroes are treated a lot worse even if they’re not villains but they know they can trust the signal #Duke as the signal not limited to gothams bat signal but as a signal to everyone that there’s someone in their corner #remember that post that was like canon Duke is who everyone wants fanon dick to be #Duke is actually friends with everyone everywhere ever that’s just his charisma #dick doesn’t wanna be Batman but part of him does do that paranoid hiding info seeking info mission above all else kinda thing #I don’t think Duke would do that #I feel like Duke WOULD put community first and if he had a team I think he’d be the type to trust them with the info he knows #like y’all know the whole Kaldur thing in YJ? I think Duke is the type have either vetoed the plan or told the whole team #which isn’t better or worse (im not gonna get into ALL of it now) but diff #this is turning into a Duke Meta (pun intended) And honestly imma make a whole separate post Abt that ftw #anyways Gotham metas aren’t heroes bc they aren’t allowed to be but Duke gives them a chance #and even if they choose not to take it they know that it’s there and that warms them up a little #warm for a gothamite anyways #og batfam and then meta batfam #even if the other bats have friends that are Metas they WILL flock to Duke and they all hate it lmao #Tim slowly getting all his friends stolen #the entire flashfam is fighting a custody battle for Duke as we speak

[verymuchimmortalcat]

As You Were Once

For Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month Day 14: De-aged

ao3

@maribat-bdbwm

Marinette was waiting at the airport for her dad, Cass, Damian, Tim and Steph. Lucius had said that there were some important things to handle in the Paris branch of WE and had insisted upon Bruce dealing with it himself. Then the others wanted to join him, leaving Dick as Batman for the week, Signal, Red Hood, Oracle and the Birds of prey to protect Gotham. Alfred had decided to go on a vacation when most of the Manor's occupants were coming to Paris and Duke would be staying with Jason for the next week. 

The five of them had promised that they wouldn't interfere in case of an akuma attack. Though Marinette was sure that they weren't going to sit back if they decided their help was needed. But hopefully they wouldn't deal with anything too severe this week. 

She waves as she spots her siblings, all of them with the exception of Steph trying not to draw attention to themselves. 

“B’s still getting everything sorted at customs and immigration,” Tim informs her once she’s finished hugging all of them.

She frowns, “was there a problem with something?”

“He’s keeping up his cover,” Damian states.

“He’s being unnaturally friendly to someone he hasn’t done a background check on,” Steph says.

“It was starting to get creepy,” Cass adds.

Marinette probably would have run away too. Galas were one thing, everyone there had been through an extensive background check but the whole Brucie Wayne act in front of people he knew absolutely nothing about was a completely different level of strange.

Their conversation turns to everything she’s missed since their last conversation. She gets a very detailed update on Damian’s pets 

They weren't waiting long before they were joined by B. Though he had to leave almost immediately to WE apparently whatever he had come for had been more urgent than they had realised. 

Once her dad is gone the five of them head to the bakery, while there wasn't space for everyone to stay at the bakery, all of them had wanted to spend time with the Dupain-Chengs. 

.oOo.

They're all at the bakery when the screaming starts. All of them immediately jump up but before any of them can join her she stops them and tells them to cover for her. Tom and Sabine don't know her identity and her siblings can't risk theirs over what’s probably a simple akuma attack. 

Promising them she'll call if she needs help she transforms and heads in the direction of the akuma. Adrien's already there but the others aren't supposed to transform unless needed. It's pretty close to WE. Marinette hopes her father actually remembered his promise and didn't become a target. 

She stops to rescue a larger number of children then she'd normally have to. Why are there so many children outside during an akuma attack?

It's only when she stops in front of a boy who appears to be about seven who looks exactly like the photos Alfred has of her father at that age does she figure out what the akuma's powers are. 

De aging. 

Marinette asks him anyway, there is always the possibility that a random Parisian child looks exactly like a seven-year-old version of her father.

It is not a random Parisian child. Marinette is the holder of the miraculous of good luck, you really would think she’d have better luck.

She crouches down so that she’s at his eye level, “I’m going to take you somewhere safe. Is that ok with you?”

He looks unsure but he nods. Picking him up, she swings back to the bakery as fast as possible. She calls Nino, Alya and Kagami and tells them there's a family emergency and to take care of the akuma and to bring it to her so she could purify it. 

Landing in an alleyway near the bakery, she de-transforms. She doesn't bother with telling him to keep her identity a secret. He already knows in the future and he's definitely not going to talk to someone who doesn't already know who she is.  

Holding his hand she leads him to the bakery. She tells Damian to get the others up and takes her dad (wow, is it strange to think of an approximately seven year old as her dad) to the living room.

She tells Tikki to give tiny Bruce something to occupy his time while she and her siblings figure something out. As they all join her upstairs, she sees as each of them realise what's happened and go from shock to laughter. 

"He doesn't remember anything. The others are taking care of the akuma. Figured you’d need help taking care of him," she says before Tim can ask. 

"Hasn't happened yet," Cass states. 

The laughter from a few seconds ago is gone. They all know what she's talking about. This Bruce Wayne hasn't lost his parents. 

This Bruce Wayne also seems to be glaring at them, he also looks scared. She can’t blame him, he wasn’t offered much of an explanation before she brought him here.

"Where are my parents?” he demands, “The girl who brought me here obviously seems to be some kind of superhero. Who are the rest of you?"

None of them look shocked that he knows that she’s Ladybug but none of them are dwelling on that. He asked for his parents what could they even tell him? They obviously can't tell him his parents are dead but they also know it wouldn't be fair to lie to him. 

"Would you like to talk to Alfred?" Tim asks suddenly. They all sigh in relief when he nods. 

Marinette calls Alfred but doesn't hand the phone to tiny Bruce immediately, it would definitely be more painful for Alfred than any of them to deal with him in this state. 

As soon as he picks up, Marinette starts speaking, "there was an akuma and dad became small and he's asking for his parents and we offered to call you instead."

Alfred being Alfred remains calm and asks her to hand the phone to tiny Bruce. All of them are staring at him as he talks to Alfred over the phone. Even though they can hear only one side of the conversation, tiny Bruce seems to calm down. 

Once he ends the call, he hands the phone back to her and says, "Alfred says that some kind of magic made me small and that all of you are very important to me when I become big."

"You're strangely adorable," Steph says. 

He frowns at that and he’s never before looked more like Damian.

“So, what do you like to do when you're bored?” Marinette asks, bending down in front of him and they all watch as one of the world’s greatest heroes rambles on about something his mom showed him last week.

.oOo.

This is the most they’ve ever heard Bruce talk about his parents and Alfred. They’re all listening intently about the woman who was their grandmother right now. Neither of them want to ask for more information. It wouldn't make sense to not know his parents if they were close to him. Alfred mentioned once that Marinette looks startlingly similar to Martha Wayne, Tim wonders if B’s picked up on it yet. Even if he has, Tim supposes, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to dwell on it as far as the Bruce in front of them is concerned his parents are alive and well.

They’ve all snuck pictures of him talking animatedly, he’s too carefree to notice, has no reason not to be. He’s already sent a few to Alfred and the others and immediately switched off notifications. Marinette and Damian do it too when their phones start blowing up, Steph’s just ignoring it and still taking photos and Cass is spamming them back. 

He goes back to watching Bruce talk without the weight he’s been carrying in all the time Tim’s known him.

.oOo.

It's strange, Cass thinks, to see him like this. The closest he's ever been to this relaxed is when all of them are at the manor for something other than a gala or bat business. 

She's alternating between listening to Bruce and tormenting her brothers who stayed back in Gotham. She’s sure if patrol wasn’t starting soon, they would’ve been here already for varying reasons.

She wonders if he’ll remember any of this when he comes back to normal, she’ll have to ask Marinette.

.oOo.

They moved to Marinette’s room in case the Dupain-Chengs check on them. Father’s taking a break from talking and is going through Marinette’s designs, Stephanie and Cassandra are with him. Drake seems to have taken on the responsibility of tormenting the others remaining in Gotham or he’s just texting his boyfriend, Damian doesn’t want to know.

He’s watching as the three of them go through Marinette’s designs, and watches as she gets progressively more flustered as they bury her in compliments, well mostly Stephanie, Cassandra and Father aren’t as vocal but it’s also the most he’s heard Father compliment someone sincerely.

It’s strange to think of the child in front of him as his father. He smiles a lot more and even laughed several times.

And then Stephanie mentions that Damian draws and Father’s asking him if he could look at his drawings. Damian offers him a small smile and unlocks his phone and shows him the recent painting of Titus, Alfred, Ace and Jerry and watches as his Father analyses the whole painting.

Maybe the child in front of him is not the father he’s gotten to know but it is nice to see him all the same.

.oOo.

Marinette’s starting to get worried. It’s been an hour and the others haven’t returned with the Akuma yet. They can’t keep tiny Bruce occupied forever. She’s considering transforming and checking it out when Tim pokes his head out from where he’s sitting on her bed and says, “hey Mari, delivery for you.”

Alya’s standing next to him with the akuma in a jar, looking confused. Marinette sighs, explaining this is going to be interesting.

She climbs up and heads to the balcony before transforming. Alya hands her the jar and Marinette purifies the akuma, calls for her lucky charm and throws it up in the air.

“So…” Alya starts, “wanna explain what that was about?” 

“Family emergency. I’ll tell you about it later. Bye!” and then Marinette’s back in her room. Her siblings seem to be panicking and her dad’s not there. The Miraculous Ladybug should have taken him back to where he was. He’s probably standing in the middle of the street completely disoriented.

Detransforming she joins their discussion, or more accurately panicked argument, to let them know what happened. They’re all on their way to the Paris branch of WE in a few minutes. She’s sure one of the employees is bound to have found him and explained things to him but they’re still going just in case.

He’s attacked by hugs when they find him in the lobby of the building, he looks confused as to why but none of them offer any explanation. Steph’s the first one to pull away when her phone starts ringing.

“Shit. We forgot to tell Alfred everything’s fine again.”

Letting go of her dad, she checks her phone and there at the very top of her notifications is a missed call from Alfred. Just one, he’s not anything like the rest of the family as proven by the hundred notifications below that. Steph’s already picked up the call and handed it to B. Marinette sends Dick a message to let him know that everything’s back to normal and to please not come to Paris once patrol’s done.

There are people staring at them, which isn’t surprising but makes her uncomfortable all the same and she knows the rest of them probably feel the same, though Tim might've gotten used to it. They watch in silence as B finishes talking to Alfred and hands Steph’s phone back to her.

He looks over the bunch of them and asks, “did you have something to tell me?”

It feels like forever that they stand awkwardly looking at him before Marinette says, “nope! Nothing important,” and drags her siblings out of the building and back to the bakery. They can talk to him later and Damian’s yawning on their way back. It’s been one hell of a first day in Paris for them, she can’t wait for the rest of the week.

#the only reason this is on time is because ive had it written for a month #maribat #mbdbwm2021 #bio dad bruce wayne #my writing

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You are not hard to love” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Something very VERY quick, that I suddenly felt compelled to write, once again in the middle of the night. I didn’t plan on writing it, but here we are. This is for anyone who ever felt like they were “hard to love”. You’re not. You just haven’t found the right person...Anyway, here. For you : 

__________________________________________________

To be “hard to love” is a character flaw Bruce always felt he had. 

It was actually hard, to exist with this knowledge, no matter how little he tried to make himself feel. Or not feel, for that matter. 

As “Brucie Wayne”, a lot of people liked him, and the rest hated him for being so arrogant and smug. There were no inbetween. 

Many people judged him to be just another idiot with a lot of money. They hated his guts. Or they admired him for his self-confidence. Still thinking, though, that he was a bit of a dunce. 

It was fine. He wanted them to think that of him. To see him for someone he really wasn’t. So it’d blur the line, so they’d never guess who the Batman really was. 

As a result, it was difficult, to love, truly love, “Brucie Wayne”. Then again, he wouldn’t want anyone to love him for what he wasn’t. This public persona of him, would never know real love. It was fine. 

But his real self. His real self. 

Batman. 

Was probably the number one reason Bruce felt he was so hard to love... 

Who would want to put up with this shit ? Who, in their right mind, would want to love a man like him ? Bruce knew himself very well. Unfortunately. 

Sometimes, even him couldn’t stand himself. 

He knew he could be abrasive, arrogant, self-important, cold, too focus on a task at hand to care about anyone’s feelings etc etc...He knew that his real self, the one he showed more with his Batman side, wasn’t very likable. 

He found it hard, to connect to others. It was hard to stay connected anyway, when he was always stuck in his own head. 

He knew himself very well. He did. He knew how he was, and he couldn’t possibly see anyone putting up with it, and loving him. 

He didn't even like himself very much...

Every single time he fell in love, things didn’t end well. Because he’s too high maintenance. Because it’s hard to keep up with him and his moods...even for someone like Selina Kyle. 

Even she, whom he felt understood him more than anyone he met before, got tired of his games. Ah, but she was also too fiercely independent for what he wanted. Mmm...But who was he fooling ? He knew she’d never stay too long with him, not only because she was independent, but because he was too difficult to be with. 

And it hurt. It really did. 

Because deep down, what Bruce really wanted...It’s love. Real love. True love. Unconditional love. As stupid as it might sound, to anyone knowing him. Ah but, if you truly knew him, it all made sense. 

He would never admit it, not even to himself, but his fear of being completely abandoned ran deep. And his want of finding someone who would accept him for who he truly was was even deeper. 

But he was hard to love. 

Who could ever put themselves through the ringer like that, and love someone like Bruce Wayne ? Like...Like Batman ? 

And then...then you came in. 

************

He still thought he was hard to love. Difficult to be with. 

Your relationship, at that time, was somewhat new. It hadn’t been serious for long. But serious it was, in Bruce’s eyes, at least. 

Ah but he kept thinking he was too hard to love. That you would leave for sure, once you would realize it. His insecurities got the best of him often, even as he tried to ignore them and just enjoy what he had for the time being. 

Up until...

It happened shortly after his first real fight with you. He had one of his “dark day” (which he didn’t have much anymore), where he would be ultra-focus on his Batman work, and be a jerk to any outside distraction. 

Except you would have none of it, as you were trying to tell him something important. And thus, the fight began. 

And he shut down. Put up walls, once again, between him and you. Because that’s what he did. And it made everything worst, of course. 

He couldn’t stand the flood of feelings that came from being too emotional. Angry because of the fight, sad too, and absolutely terrified he might lose you if you guys fought enough for you to realize he’s just...Too hard to love. 

So he suppressed his emotions. As usual. It was much easier for him to give you the silent treatment than go through the pain of talking it out. It was too overwhelming for him, he wasn’t good at the whole “feeling things”. 

He was too afraid he’d say something he would dearly regret. He knew it was healthier, to talk it out. But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with those emotions. And so he shut you out, you got frustrated, and then Dick tried to...

The sweet little boy tried to get you two to talk, to calm down, and Bruce snapped at him. He didn’t meant to. He instantly regretted it. But he did.

Which was the last straw that broke the camel back for you. You told him to “go to hell”, took Dick’s hand (who looked absolutely crestfallen, just remembering his facial expression made Bruce’s heart hurt), and left. 

Bruce felt like this was it. He just ruined the one good thing in his life. 

The one thing that, after years of being stuck in the dark, brought him light. 

You, and his newly adopted son. 

Lights of his life. 

He needed you two. But he understood if you decided to go...He was too hard to love. He would let you go, if it meant you’d be happier (what a fool). 

He was too much, too much. 

For hours, hours and hours, he beat himself down for it. Stuck in his own head once again. Hating himself. 

Sitting alone in front of the batcomputer, barely paying attention to what is scrolling on the screen...Bruce felt like shit. 

Why ? Why did he have to be like that ?

Why couldn’t he...be someone who was easy to love ? Who wasn’t a constant challenge to everyone around him ? 

Yes. That’s it. He was a challenge. A challenge who could’nt-

Footsteps. Taking him out of this darkness spiraling downward and downward. 

And it’s you. You’re right there. Looking at him critically, and he’s sure...

He’s sure you came to break up with him. That he shut you out one too many times. That him being a jerk to little Dickie was too much. That-

“There’s-”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t hear you say it. So he cuts you off, with words that made his heart bleed : 

“I know, we’re done.”

“Excuse me ?”

He can’t look at you. Can’t bear it. He turns around, and continues, trying to sound as neutral as possible, trying to not let his voice crack, going right to the point, as fast as possible, so he can keep it up : 

“I went too far. Too many times. You’ve...had enough of me. I understand.” 

“What ?” 

In your voice, he can hear surprise. Ah. You were too nice to realize that one day, it would come to this. That one day, you were doomed to leave him because he was too much. 

You were too...good for him, to him. Too good to realize he knew it all along. 

And so here you were, surprised he figured it out. Surprised he knew, before you told him, that you were leaving him. 

“I know I’m hard to love. I do. And you-”

“Wait wait wait, uh ? You think I’m gonna bail out because you were a jerk ? You think you’re too hard to love ? Oh Bruce...”

There’s a short pause, as if you’re searching for your words. 

He looks up at you, feeling a dash of hope invade his heart. He tries to fight it, but he can’t. Because...Because...Finally, you say : 

“Bruce. When we started this, when it became serious, when I decided to jump in your life and in Dick’s...I knew what I was getting myself into. I know you enough. I know the Batman side of you. I know you have moments you’re just...you’re just too stuck in your own head, and in your pain. I know.” 

You put a soft hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you by raising his head. 

“I know what you think of yourself. And I know what others think of you. You’re arrogant, cold, unforgiving blahblahblah insert many more words saying how difficult it is for you to show your true self and emotions. But...But I also know that’s not all there is to you. I know you, and others, are wrong about you. Too hard on you. I know you.” 

You take a step closer to him, and lay your forehead against his. 

“I know you’re funny, like, seriously hilarious. No one ever made me laugh like you. I know you care, sometimes too much, and it’s why things are so hard for you many times. I know you’re actually a great dad, no matter what you think. I know many admire you, you’re truly amazing. You’re smart, caring, loving...I know that it’s hard for you to open up, to love...but when you do, when you do...You love really hard, Bruce. Fully, intensely, passionately, with your entire being. I never felt so loved, than when you hold me. When you-”

There’s a short pause, and Bruce realizes it’s because you’re blushing and have to regain control of yourself again. It doesn’t surprise him. What you’re saying right now, makes his heart beat a hundred time faster, and he can feel his face burning. 

Only you, ever made him blush so...

You take a deep breath, and say : 

“All my life Bruce. All my life I felt I was hard to love.” 

At this, Bruce can’t help but scoff, and he’s about to say something but you cut him off sternly : 

“I’m not done, mister. As I was saying, my entire life, I too, felt like I was hard to love. But when I met you...When I met you, I realized I felt that way because the people around me always made me feel like that. Always made it sound like it was a chore, to put up with me. That they could love me without making any compromises, while I had to change completely for them. Because I was too “difficult” you know ? Because sometimes, I too would have mood swings, or a need to be alone, or...just things that are not considered normal. That are associated with being hard to love. And I was surrounded with people who made me feel bad about this. Who made me feel like I had to change to be normal, and to finally have love.” 

Your arms snake around his shoulders now, and you hold him tight against your chest, kissing the top of his head. 

“You made me realize, Bruce, my Bruce, that...That I’m not actually hard to love. That I was just surrounded with people who weren’t willing to make the effort for me. Which is fine. No-one has to put up with anything if they don’t want to. But...Nobody is hard to love. They just never found the right person. The one willing to fight for them. It’s what you made me realize.”

He holds you back now. With all his might. What is this stinging feeling in his eyes ? 

“I love you. Unconditionally. I know who you are. And I want to fight for you. I will always fight for you. I’m not promising that I’ll never grow frustrated, and yell at you back, to then storm off. I’m not saying we’ll never fight. I’m just saying...It doesn’t matter. Because I love you. And I’ll always find my way back to you.” 

In your eyes, he can see it, there’s a strong light shining. 

One that proves him you love him. Deeply, and unconditionally. 

One that led him out of a dark pass many times before. 

One that proved...That proved maybe, he wasn’t that hard to love. 

Not when he finally found the right one. 

He couldn’t believe you ever thought YOU were hard to love. Ah. Has anyone in the world ever been as perfect for each other as you two were ?

“I love you.” 

He says. His entire being, all his emotions, poured in those three little words. 

“I love you too Bruce. And believe me, saying those words to you ? It’s very easy.”

His arms around you tightens even more. And then you add : 

“Now that this is out of the way...We can talk more about this later, but for now, there’s more pressing matters at hands. I actually came down here to ask if...if you wanted some ice cream ? Dick and I went out for a little bit, and brought all our favorite. Yours, too. We thought we’d need a “pick-me-up”. All of us. As a family. We’re supposed to go through things together...And ice cream helps, yes ?”

He nods. His throat too tight to say anything. And for the moment, it’s fine. He’ll tell you later. He’ll tell you how much you mean later. If he can’t find the words, he’ll find other ways to show you. 

You know anyway. You know he loves you. Just as strong as you love him. 

He loves you just as you are. You love him just as he is. 

“I love you.”

He whispers, and you smile at him, of this life-changing smile that showed him the light... You peck him on the lips, before taking his hand and walking out of the batcave, to the Manor. 

Where ice cream, and a very sweet little boy eager to raise his dad’s spirit, were waiting. 

Unconditional love. 

Bruce Wayne, wasn’t hard to love. And now, he was surrounded with the right people to make him understand this.

__________________________________________________

I just have a lot of feelings about Bruce Wayne haha. I just wanted to write a little something. It also stems from my own feelings. I’m sure we all felt at some point, that we were/are impossible to love. That no one will ever put up with our shit...yet there are people unwilling to give up on you, people who make you “better” etc etc. So. Yeah. I wrote this very quickly. Once again, watch me feel too much in the middle of the night haha. Sorry if this isn’t very good, it’s one of those “bonus” story I suddenly think about and write quickly in one sitting. I enjoyed writing it, but I admit it took less effort than most stories. So. Yes. 

If you liked it, don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if ya want :). 

#Bruce Wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Batman x reader #Batman imagine #Batfam x Reader #Batfam #DC reader insert #Bruce Wayne needs love ok ? #We don't talk enough about how hard he is #on himself #like he ain't flawless for sure #but he's so unforgiving of his own #mistakes and such #anyway here we are #fem!reader

[dented-nado]

You asked for fluff so maybe 39 with Bruce and Harv(ey) uwu

[[BLESS!! I hope you’ll like some fluff with a sprinkling of hurt/comfort in a post redemption!Harv(ey) AU !]]39: “I love your smile”

Both of them always thought, deep down, the day they were reunited, it would finally be easy. They wouldn’t have to keep fighting so damn hard. But after years of fighting on the streets, fighting each other, fighting Batman who had been the one person he would have done anything and everything for this whole damn time…

Relaxing, ‘finding himself… themselves…’, being around Bruce again, being ‘taken care of’… they didn’t know how to handle it.

Harv wanted to live it up, felt he deserved about 10 years of partying and drinking after going though the effort of trying not to lash out and gain power over a world that at its core had done absolutely nothing for him and only hurt him.

Harvey just wanted to feel normal again, blend into the background, reconcile with all the guilt that Harv didn’t want to think about because it was too much, and ‘haven’t you let me get hurt enough?’.

“It’s not my fault, stop telling me what you did was my fault!” Harvey would snap back.

Well… they may be released from Arkham, but that didn’t mean they didn’t still have work to do.

But being around Bruce, knowing he was Batman, discovering a whole other side to his best friend that both made sense and made him feel like he didn’t really know Bruce as well as he thought at the same time.

There were some things that were real.

Bruce still had a sweet tooth, would still get excited in his own way over Gotham’s history (and history in general). He didn’t like to drink… Harvey had always known that and found it hilarious when Bruce would pretend to be drunk at a gala and ham it up, he had always felt special for being the only one who knew Brucie Wayne didn’t down a champagne bottle before every event.

Bruce would still go quiet sometimes. He remembered, back when they were kids, in kindergarten even - where Harvey would do most of the talking, deciding he liked Bruce quite a lot, and Bruce would always hang around and listen.

But even if Bruce didn’t always say a lot, he had always been there. He’d been there when he was sick, beaten up, happy, sad, up, down, everywhere and everything in between

That being said… well…

Now neither Harvey or Harv knew what to say at least half the time, or they couldn’t come to a conclusion on what to say or how to say or how to begin to say it. That was something around the topic of Bruce they could agree on. They didn’t know how to begin to talk to him anymore. So when they had previously been the one talking the most…

It was awkward.

Not to mention, partially because of his scarring and partially because he had been… you know… a criminal - even attempting to blend in with people and live a completely, “normal” life again was going to be impossible. That time spent in law school was looking more and more pointless by the day.

Sure, he had been told plastic surgery was an option, but being under the knife was too much for *both* of them to handle. The loss of control? What if they woke up in the middle of it? What if it just botched everything up even more?

At most he considered maybe he’d get just barely enough done so that he could close his eye again, maybe not have to worry about half of his mouth and teeth exposed to the elements all the time, make it a little easier to talk… to be able to even try to fully smile again.

But they weren’t there yet, the idea of trusting anyone to knock him out and fuck with his face was just too much. Not to mention he hated when the option was brought up as some sort of a magical solution that would just make everything better. There was an underlying attitude of “if you just looked better, people will just forget what you’ve done, any mental illness? Poof! Gone!”. Harvey hated it, and Harv resented all the times he had been treated like a disease that had to be wiped away because he happened to have all the anger, the sadness, pain, all dumped on him so Harvey could go on pretending he was perfect, that everything was fine. That was why he lost it and lashed out in the first place. All the repressed rage flowing out in the most explosive and destructive way possible.

Except now they realized they had both been in pain, and split from dealing with it in vastly different ways.

So both of them fronted more often. Occasionally getting along and occasionally trying to shove each other aside.

… They still had no idea how to reconnect with their former best friend, who clearly, had not dealt with his own pain as well as they thought.

“Harv, I have your eye-drops.” Bruce’s voice came from behind them, and they slowly turned to look at him. “I don’t think you’ve used them in a while.”

“Oh… right, almost forgot.” Harv grumbled.

“Thank you, Bruce.” Harvey replied as he took the bottle from Bruce’s hand, going a bit out of his way not to accidentally graze Bruce’s hand.

“I was getting to thanking him…”

“Then thank him too! What do you want from me??”

They bickered before Harv finally cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Bruce cocked his head to the side, it reminded Harvey of the old stray cat he used to feed when he was just a boy.

“Your welcome, Harvey… Harv… I appreciate you trying to be polite. I’m sure Alfred would be proud.”

Harv snorted as he tilted their head back to moisturize their exposed eye. It was a pain in the ass even after having to do it and having doctors do it to him constantly.

“I’m trying to be good… whatever that means.”

Bruce put a reassuring hand on their shoulder. “You are doing good. And for what its worth I’ve gotten called out a fair number of times for not saying please and thank you.”

“Sure, but you're a rich pretty boy and Batman, two people I’d probably least expect to say please and thank you.” Harv teased.

“Your kind of one of a kind when it comes to billionaires actually trying to be polite… or have a soul.” Harvey added on.

“Well, I’m trying to be good.” Bruce replied with a wink.

He started to walk away and leave Harv and Harvey to keep disagreeing on what to watch while they curled up on the couch, but stopped mid-stride. He paused and bounced on his heels for a second as if contemplating whether or not he should speak his mind.

“Harv?”

“Yeah, Pretty Boy?” He replied only half paying attention, and half refocused on the screen in front of him.

“That’s just it, why do you still call me that?” Bruce asked with furrowed brows.

“What do you mean still… ?” Harv paused, mind buzzing with a slight panic. “Does… Does it bother you?”

“No… Not really. I just… we’re not enemies anymore, right?” Bruce said, unconsciously cracking his knuckles as he stood with his legs locked together stiffly.

“Yeah? Duh, of course not. What kind of question is that? What does it have to do with me calling you a pretty boy? That’s what you are.”

Bruce’s eyes suddenly widened as he got an uncharacteristically dumbfounded look on his face.

“You mean… it's not an insult? Or a taunt?” Bruce asked quietly.

“You…”

“Bruce, you're a dumbass.” Harvey interjected.

“You thought… I was insulting you?”

Bruce shuffled his feet and picked at his nails. “Why else would you…?”

Harv(ey) put their head in their hands for a moment and made a frustrated wheezing noise somewhere between a sigh and a quiet scream.

They got up off the couch and walked over to meet Bruce in the middle of the room.

“I know I can’t really wink, or… smile at you but…” Harv looked down at his scared hand, chest aching. “How did you not realize I was flirting with you?!”

Bruce looked positively taken aback. “You were flirting with me? All that time?? Every time we’d happen to meet, when I was me and not Batman...and you’d call me that? You were... trying to..?”

Harv hung his head in defeat. “Of course I was you dense bat-hole.”

“I see…” Bruce replied with an awkward gulp as he gripped at his own arm. For being such a well-built man that was good at making even those taller than him feel miles below him, he was also good at making himself look a lot smaller than he really was as he clenched all his limbs together tightly.

Harv took a deep breath, and with one trembling hand reached out towards Bruce’s cheek to… what? Comfort him? He wasn’t really sure, but he hesitated… looking at his hand and then Bruce staring back at him.

He didn’t really want to touch Bruce with what he thought was a disgusting hand that no one would want near them.So he retracted his hand.

“I just thought… you were rubbing in the fact that me and Harvey had… you know, broken up.” Bruce admitted quietly.

Harv looked taken aback for a second, and tried to ignore the heaviness and old mourning from Harvey, before pressing forward with newfound confidence… or maybe it was just cockiness.

“Unlike Harvey, I’m not stupid enough to give up on the best thing in my life.”

He swelled with pride when Bruce looked away with a sharp inhale through his nose that was turning a bit pink along with his cheeks.

“Excuse you.” Harvey thought.

Bruce almost chuckled at the immediate glare at nowhere in particular he knew was coming from Harvey resenting that comment.

“It was a different time, you know that Harv. We both chickened out on being in a relationship at the time.”

“Still… if it had been up to me…” Harv trailed off, he knew at this point berating Harvey for their life choices did neither of them any good.

Bruce seemed to notice their momentary distracted gaze, and took the initiative with a hum and lightly touched both sides of their face to turn them back towards his eyes as he looked over their features.

“You know Harv. You actually can smile more than you think you can.” Bruce corrected very calmly.

It was Harv’s turn to look dumbfounded. “Even so, it can’t be a very good looking smile.”

Bruce furrowed his brows critically. “I love your smile.”

“You’re nuts.” Harv grumbled. “Come on, this face is disgusting.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen lots of disgusting things as Batman. You’re not one of them. Trust me.”

He let go of their face and put his hands in his pockets. “You’re still “handsome harv” to me.” He said with a small little smile at referencing the nickname Harvey had gotten back in high-school and been continually referred to when he made his first run as a DA.

Harv kicked at the ground and crossed his arms. “Alright. Now you're just trying to stroke my ego.”

“If you keep being nasty to yourself and calling yourself disgusting, I’ll have no choice but to keep stroking it.”

Harv got a sudden wickedly fiendish look on his face. “That’s not the only thing you could str-”

“Hey! How about we finally pick a movie, huh?” Harvey declared suddenly.

Bruce raised his eyebrows almost cartoonishly high in amusement. “Oh, if you want a movie, I have one in mind that Superman and Flash have been badgering me to watch.”

He crossed over to curl up on the couch and patted the seat beside him to encourage Harv(ey) to join him. Now Bruce was the one with the slightly impish look on his face.

“YOU INTERRUPTED!” Harv hissed to Harvey inside their mind.

They sat down on the couch next to Bruce. “Now you’ve got me curious as to what kind of movie a speed demon and a burly alien would recommend.” Harvey chirped in response acting as if nothing happened.

“You were about to embarrass us!” Harvey thought in response trying to look perfectly fine and like they weren’t arguing.

“APOLOGIZE.”

“No.”

“And I’m supposed to be the one who’s the bad guy??”

Then, as the movie began, they both stiffened as Bruce was suddenly calmly leaning on their shoulder. They looked down at Bruce only to get another raised eyebrow in response. This time a raised eyebrow that they both decided to take as “you just going to stare or are you going to relax and put an arm around me?”.

So now here they were leaning back, an arm around Bruce, who had his head calmly on his shoulder. Bruce himself looked incredibly pleased with himself.

Both sat together happy to have each other back in their lives.

Maybe… just maybe… it didn’t have to be so hard anymore after all.

#causeimamerican #twobats #bruharvey #harvey dent #bruce wayne #two face #harv dent #post redemption AU #prompt fill #twobats for the price of one #dkajsklfjsalkfj #thank you again for the ask!! <3 <3

[schweeeppess]

Red Robin and Batman walked into a house to gather information on a case. That was it. Their only objective was information gathering.

Bruce cursed the second he heard the whimper, pausing in his rummaging through a filing cabinet and shooting a quick glance at Tim to check if he'd heard, and he prayed his son hadn't.

So of course he had.

Tim was already on his way to the source of the heartbreaking cry across the room and curled tight in the corner of its cage.

"Red Robin," Bruce said in the hard Batman 'boss' voice. Damn it--Tim was more prone to picking up strays than Damian at this point. "We need to finish the objective."

At the command that was his name, Tim froze and stood ramrod straight (Bruce hated that the tone of voice elicited the response it did, but it still worked, even if it stung). He pouted a little, glancing back at the cage, but obeyed and finished setting up the small circular recording devices around the room as Bruce collected the paper evidence.

"But B," Tim whined quietly. "The puppies."

Bruce internally groaned and slammed his head on a wall; outwardly, he barely sighed.

"I know."

When Tim was done with his task, he wasted no time in opening the cage with the puppy inside still cowering, and he offered his open palm to the small dog.

Really, Bruce blamed the bad lighting for missing it. A second puppy's head poked out from behind the first orange-furred one.

The second puppy slowly crawled across the hard floor of its cage to Tim's hand, extending its neck as far as it could to get a sniff or two in, and subsequently hesitantly slipped its head into Tim's hand after giving it a little lick.

Pride bubbling up in his chest for no real reason, Bruce watched his son interact with the terrified puppies patiently.

It took ten minutes for the puppies to warm up fully to Tim, but when they did, they were attatched to him like bees on honey, and Bruce could tell Tim was living for it.

Even though he already had an attention-needy cat, and a beta fish that loved showing off back at his apartment.

"Red Robin, we have to go."

"I'm not leaving them."

"Red Robin..."

"Batman."

They did the stare-battle again, even though Bruce never won them, and he sighed in resignation when Tim handed him the orange puppy, hugging it close as he followed Tim out.

"...you realize we can't take these back with us, right Tim?"

"Names," was Tim's automated response. A second later he hesitated. "Why not?"

"We came on our bikes."

"Call the Batmobile."

"Red Hood is "borrowing" it, remember?"

"B," Tim whined, nuzzling the dirty puppy who licked his cheek. "Come on. The puppies. We need each other, can't you see?"

"Red Robin..."

"Batman. B. Please."

And, damn it, Bruce could tell Tim was giving him those same wide baby blue eyes he had when he was a boy. He sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"We can get them in the morning. Tomorrow."

Tim grinned so wide Bruce had half a mind to test him for Joker gas.

It was a quick walk to the nearest shelter, and the receptionist at the main desk didn't bat an eye to see Red Robin and Batman walk into the establishment, each vigilante carrying a puppy. She just popped her gum and blinked slowly.

"Y'wanna 'dopt 'em?"

Heavy slums accent. Lives around here. Native Gothamite, then.

"No," Bruce responded in the gravelly tone of Batman's. "We removed them from an unsafe home. We're here to drop them off, is all."

She shrugged and looked to Tim, raising a brow. "Y'sure y'don't wanna take 'em?"

Bruce looked at Tim, cooing gently down at the puppy in his arms, and he sighed. The puppy Bruce was holding had fallen asleep on the walk to the shelter, but it appeared Tim's was still awake.

"Red Robin," he sighed again. "We talked about this."

Tim pouted, but nodded.

"Yeah, ma'am. We're just dropping them off." Quiet enough for her not to hear, he whispered to the puppies, "for now. I'll be back for you. I promise."

Glancing back at Bruce, the girl popped her gum again, shrugging. "A'ight."

Fifteen minutes later they were walking out of the shelter. Puppiless.

"First thing tomorrow," Tim started, turning and pointing at Bruce, "we're coming to get Ham and Cheddar."

Bruce blinked. "Who?"

"The puppies!"

"..."

"I'm hungry, alright?"

"...fine. First thing after breakfast."

Tim shook Bruce's hand. "Deal."

And in the morning? Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne and Bruce Thomas Wayne, sweatpants, crocs, and baggy t-shirt and all for Tim, showed up at the exact same shelter Batman and Red Robin had been at the night before.

The girl was the same one from the night before, and she was still chewing gum.

Her perpetual gum-chewing was concerning.

"We're here to adopt," Bruce said after offering a grade-A Brucie greeting. "For my son."

She looked to Tim disinterestedly. Popped her gum again.

He smiled a little and waved, clearly not embarrassed, and she shrugged.

"'kay. Dog or cat?"

"Dogs," Tim quickly replied. "We're here for some pups, actually."

The pups comment made the girl--Farah was her nametag--frown.

"Right. Follow me then."

Bruce was hardly concerned about Tim adopting more dogs than the ones he'd already bonded with as they walked past well-kept cages of puppies and kittens. It would have been worse with Damian.

They stopped in front of a large cage, and Farah gestured to the dogs inside. "'ese guys came in last night," she said. "The Batman and Red Robin brought 'em."

Leaning forward to see over Tim, Bruce saw the two puppies from last night--corgis, from the paper on their cage--and they were huddled in a corner, asleep.

"We'll take them," Bruce said.

Farrah nodded.

"They all?"

Just as Bruce opened his mouth to say that, yes, they were only getting the two corgi puppies, Tim spoke up.

"No, actally."

Farah seemed to perk up. "Oh?"

"Yeah--there was an older pitbull back there...?"

Bruce was stunned silent, but at Tim's choice Farah seemed to radiate joy as she popped her gum again and smiled.

She smiled, for the first time since they'd met her.

"Ya int'rest'd in 'im?"

Tim nodded and next thing Bruce knew, he was being led back two aisles to a large enclosure. Inside a mean-looking white and tan pitbull paced its space. When they stopped outside the gate, the pitbull bared its teeth and started growling, backing away slowly with its ears flat on its skull.

Bruce sighed. An abused dog, then.

"Tim?" he asked. "You're sure?"

Warmth and affection glinted in Tim's eyes as he watched the dog, and Bruce didn't need the verbal affirmation. "Yeah."

"Okay." Looking up at Farah, Bruce said, "We'll take him too."

She grinned, nodding. "I suggest you get in there with him. He'll need to warm up to you. He acts all tough," she said, looking back at the growling dog, a tad sadly, "but he's just scared. He's got a great heart. It's just been broken too many times."

Bruce looked to the dog again. He didn't meet gazes with it, but he could see the pain and fear in its body, and it broke his heart a little.

"Okay," he said. Tim was already slowly slipping inside, and Bruce went to follow him.

Farah watched them, and said, "I'll bring the papers."

Once Tim and Bruce were immediately inside the small enclosure, Tim closed the gate behind him and sat down right where he was. Bruce mimicked him.

When his son started talking to him about work, it surprised him, but Bruce endulged him, figuring Tim knew what he was doing. Tim looked at Bruce as they spoke, and Bruce held Tim's gaze.

Even being Batman he didn't notice the dog's approach until twenty minutes later and it sniffed at his palm.

Surprised but unafraid, Bruce opened his hand more and held it out to the dog, the way he'd seen Tim do it the night before with the corgis.

As the pitbull sniffed at his palm, Bruce noticed all the scars the dog sported. Jagged cuts along its side and flanks, smaller ones on its muzzle, a curving one over an eye, and a chipped ear.

Rage threatened to build but the dog sensed it and froze, so Bruce forced it down for the dog. He earned a hesitant lick to the palm for his efforts and the dog switched to smell Tim's palm, tail slowly starting to wag in tentative hope.

Farrah appeared with the papers in hand, apologizing for the wait, when the pitbull's tail was wagging carefully and Tim was scratching at the dog's head. She smiled at the scene again, and asked what they wanted to name the dogs.

"Ceddar and Ham for the corgis," Tim said with a little blush, "and I think I'll name him... Jay."

Bruce met Tim's gaze and raised a brow at the choice.

"Jay?" he asked.

Tim nodded once, firmly. "Yes."

Farah scribbled the names down, then told them they could pick the dogs up in three days. The wait seemed to disappoint Tim, but they agreed, thanked Farah, and stood to go.

As they opened the gate to leave, Jay's tail wagged a little more and he tilted his head as if to ask where they were going.

"I'll be back," Tim promised the dog, crouching to pet him again and making sure the dog saw where his hand went. "I promise. We're springing you from this joint."

Bruce snorted, lips quirking up.

Three days later they walked into the shelter dogless and walked out with Ham, Cheddar, and Jay.

"I'm gonna keep Jay at the apartment," Tim said as they entered the car with the dogs. "Because I don't think Titus would like him very much."

Bruce nodded, starting the car. Jay sat in the passenger side, sniffing at everything, pawing at the odd surfaces. In the backseats Tim was being smothered by his corgi puppies.

A minute passed in silence.

"Bruce, I think I'm gonna need a bigger apartment soon," Tim's muffled voice spoke up from under his corgis.

Bruce silently agreed as he drove to Tim's apartment. At the rate he was going...

"Don't tell Jason you named the pitbull after him."

His muffled voice spoke up again. "Why not? They both pretend to be mean, and they're both sweet deep down. Pitbull Jay has lots of scars, Jason has lots of scars--the parallels are too obvious! Jay is Jason in dog form."

Bruce's lips twitched and he shook his head.

"You know I'm right!"

"No comment."

"That proves it!"

@belovedbratwonder there you go.

#random #impulsive writing #tim drake #red robin #bruce wayne #batman #cheddar the corgi #ham the corgi #jay the pitbull #tim's crusade of pets #my writing #my work #my fanfiction #written for my lovely fren :d #hope you like

[solarcelest]

Sand Man

All of my fics can also be found on Ao3 @solar._.celeste

It had been a long last few days. With yet another Arkham breakout the night before, the dynamic duo of father and son hadn’t been able to retire to their beds until near sunrise.

Not only that, but it had been Wednesday. This meant school for Damian and W.E. for Bruce. Only two hours of sleep for the both.

After far too many coffees, Bruce brought Damian to school on his way to the office, arriving at eight thirty. He then suffered and somehow managed to stay awake through seven meetings before leaving at three to pick up his son.

Damian was silent as usual when he climbed into the backseat, throwing his school bag carelessly next to him. Bruce has decided that he was too tired to attempt to force small talk, it never worked anyway.

From the looks of it, Damian was just as exhausted as his father. Bruce watched in the review mirror as his son tried (and barely succeed) at keeping his lolling head up and his closing eyes open.

They followed a fairly normal routine when they returned to the manor. Damian retiring to the kitchen for some of Alfred’s customary after school cookies and milk. Bruce turning upstairs to finish the days paperwork.

Then, if the world be willing, the two would spar and train with each other for a couple hours before dinner and then patrol. But tonight was an off night.

Instead, they had to prepare for a charity gala that both of them would rather opt out of. Bruce didn’t feel like putting on his ‘Brucie’ facade tonight and Damian didn’t like the crowds. he didn’t like any crowds, too many people and too much happening. So of course he had to try his hand if getting out of the gathering.

“ Father, I see the meaning for yours, but I do not know why my presence is needed.” Said Damian, sitting in the plush chair at the corner of the master bedroom. He wore a small monkey suit, a haphazardly tied bowtie, and a pair of red converse. His legs swung slightly.

“ You wouldn’t have to come, but Alfred had plans he needed to attend to and I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“ I would be able to manage.” Damian glared.

“ The answer is no.” Bruce, was stern. There would be no changing his mind.

“ Well then I’m sure Pennyworth can reschedule.”

“ Son, listen. I know you don’t want to do this, believe me, I don’t want to go either but I have to. We need maintain a civilian identity as well. just give me tonight okay? then we can go anywhere you want this weekend, alright?” Bruce kneeled and began to properly fix the boys tie.

“ Anywhere?” Damian asked, his father was giving him immense power. And there was one place in particular he would love to go.

“ Within reason, but yes.” Okay.... a little less power but still, power.

“ Deal.” Damian held out his hand. They shook on it.

“ Alright boy, lets fix that hair of yours before someone tries to bring you to the zoo.”

After slightly more grumbling about ill mannered imbeciles from Damian, Bruce had finished styling his sons hair and the two made the short car ride to the gala.

Bruce decided being nice was exhausting about thirty minutes after arriving. After and hour, he was really tempted to call it quits and snap at he next person that asked him about stocks. And he totally would have, if not for knowing it would certainly earn him a look from Alfred.

Even if the butler wasn’t there to see himself. Nothing got passed Alfred.

Damian acted as he usually did during galas. He stuck close to his father, glancing anxiously at the crowds and talking only when spoke to (his own preference) or when he wanted another soda or juice.

The crowds though, are what caused him the most exhaustion. Both his prior teachings and his anxiety told him to be extra cautious of the crowds. Don’t let yourself get distracted, don’t take your eyes away, don’t let your guard down and pay attention to everything. It was exhausting.

It was only a few hours into the party when Bruce was talking to a reporter about his latest deal that he felt Damian stumble into him. He took a moment to pause the conversation and look at his son. Damian was steadying himself and rubbing watery eyes with fists and looking all too cute for his own good. The whole seen made Bruce doubt that his son hadn’t just fallen asleep on his feet.

He didn’t really think about it, just reached down and put his hands under his sons arms, lifting Damian to his hip, red converse dangling quite pathetically. The reporter literally cooed and Bruce was surprised Damian didn’t attempt to leap from his arms and attack her or refuse being held all together.

Damian didn’t really understand why his father had picked him up. Had he caught his stumble? Was there danger? Had Damian missed something in the crowd during those brief moments he decided to close his eyes?

But after a moment of looking around there was nothing. And Damian decided that maybe this was just something parents did. And it was sad really that he couldn’t say for sure. But it showed their progress when he seemed to decide that he felt safe enough in his father’s arms to finally close his eyes and get the sleep he’s been needing for days.

And Bruce was shocked, because this wasn’t something that Damian did. Because Damian was so tiny. So light, too light, and he had been too busy to notice. But now he noticed, and even let out a fond smile when he saw how Damian’s tanned cheek was smushed into the collar of his suit.

“ His looks are going to get him in trouble one day.” Came a voice somewhere to Bruce’s right, he turned to see Selena.

“ Don’t remind me.” He answered, chuckling softly. Stroking baby soft black hair from his sons closed eyes.

“ He takes after his father in that.” She continued, Bruce smiles softly. “ He should be in bed.”

“ Are you telling me how to raise my kids?” Asked Bruce, but it was playful.

“ You should be in bed too.” She came closer at this, putting a hand on his shoulder, months ago he would have pulled away, But they had become closer and now he fought leaning into the touch. Instead, he used his free hand to wave at the party around them.

“ Go home.” She continued. “ And get the rest I know you’ve both been needing for days.”

“ I can’t just leave, Selena.” He says incredulously.

“ Say he’s sick.” She gestures at Damian and says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“ Something tells me Damian wouldn’t like that.” He’s still smiling he realizes, perhaps he should stop.

“ I don’t hear any objections.” Says Selena, putting a hand to her ear to pretend she’s listening. Bruce only finds himself smiling harder at this.

“ Spread the word for me?” He asked, already grabbing his and his sons coat from one of many hooks.

“ Do you have to ask?” She watches the Bat as he wrangles his son into the small and puffed red winter coat.

“ Thanks Selena.” He says, giving up on hiding his grin and smiling once more before turning to leave. He walks back out through the doors to the fundraiser hall the charity event was being held at. The cold winter air of Gotham hits his face and passes easily through his suit jacket. He was born and raised in Gotham though, and the cold snowy air doesn’t bother him like he knows it does the little desert boy in his arms. He speaks with a valet about his vehicle and moves to pull his own jacket tighter around his son

.

The car comes around soon enough and he nods a thanks and takes the keys. He unlocks the doors of the black Tesla and moves to the back. He shifts Damian into his grey and blue carseat and begins to strap him in both thankful and surprised that the boy hasn’t been woken by all the movement.

The drive home is even quicker than the drive to the event had been and upon arriving. Bruce quickly scrawled a one handed note to Alfred telling him that they had arrived earlier than originally planned and would both be in bed by the time the butler returned.

It almost seemed surreal to Bruce as he made his way to his bedroom with Damian in his arms. As he stopped briefly in his sons room to grab the boys batman footie pajamas, both because he wanted to and because they would be easier to put on his sleeping form.

And the Dark Knight found that he couldn’t lose his smile as he lay Damian on his giant bed and began removing his child’s small clothing. How when he folded the tiny suit and untied the converse he was reminded that yes, Damians clothes were still bought from the kids section and no, he wasn’t even wearing boxers yet.

And Bruce didn’t mind that he couldn’t suppress the slight feeling of hope in his chest that Damian still has some childhood left and that the boy could be salvaged. That maybe the damage his mother and grandfather had done could no, not be reversed, but possibly mended. And he relished in the fact that he felt like such a dad when he considered waking Damian up so that the boy could brush his teeth and use the bathroom, because he had had so much sugar and drank a lot of liquids at the gala.

Bruce didn’t even feel guilty when he selfishly decided he wouldn’t because he knew the boy would insist on returning to his own bed if he had the chance.

So instead he changed into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, grabbing his son once again, placing both him and his boy under the blankets. Drawing Damian as close as possible and breathing in that wonderful scent of children’s shampoo.

And he he couldn’t help his closing eyes or that fact that he smiled himself to sleep because things just couldn’t be anymore perfect.

And if when Alfred opened the door to the master bedroom the next morning to see both his charges asleep and cuddling, he had been too silent to wake them. And if he retreated back downstairs with nothing but a thousand photos, if he picked up the phone to call both the school and the office to tell them the Waynes would be taking a personal day, well, no one would have any proof.

Accept for all the recipients of the next Christmas card.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #selina kyle #damian wayne #galas #gotham #fluff #father&son

[hysterialevi]

Legend pt. 2

Author’s note: Sorry about the long wait for this one. I got a bit stumped for a while, but it’s finally finished and I hope you enjoy the end result. Thanks for all your support, and as always, love you guys. Stay awesome.

From Bruce’s POV

WAYNE MANOR

THE NEXT MORNING

John let out an astonished gasp upon entering the manor, his jaw dropping open as he viewed the inside with an amazed expression.

“Wow, Bruce!” He exclaimed as he observed the chandeliers hanging above, craning his neck backwards. “I knew you were rich, but...but this...!”

John spread his arms out and twirled around like a top, laughing vigorously to himself.

“This is...INCREDIBLE! Hehehe!”

I smiled gently at the man, adoring his eccentric display of joy from a distance while he explored his new home. 

With the Agency and police constantly trying to arrest John, I agreed to let the man live with me for a while in hopes of protecting him. It was too risky to leave him alone during these times, and the last thing I wanted was for someone to catch him while I wasn’t looking.  

Aside from Alfred, John was all I had left. He was my closest friend, my partner in fighting crime, and one of the few people I knew I could trust for sure. He had been with me through thick and thin, and always had my back no matter what. I needed him by my side.

If Waller or anyone else wanted to take him away from me, they were going to have to put up a fight. And a damned good one.

“I’m glad you like the house, John,” I said, strolling up to him. “As much as I appreciate the solitude, I have to admit it does get lonely here sometimes. It’ll be nice having you around.”

John put a dramatic hand over his heart and wiped away a fake tear, tilting his head at me in a touched manner.

“You are truly the kindest man I’ve ever met, Brucie. I might just shed a tear.”

I grinned at that, slipping my hands into my pockets. “You’d be the first to say that in a while. I’ve almost forgotten the days when Gotham didn’t hate the Waynes. So, any idea where you want to sleep?”

The clown shrugged, slightly confused. “Um...in the bedroom...?”

A chuckle escaped me. “Well, yes, but which one? There are seven of them.”

John’s eyes popped open. “You have seven bedrooms?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, “along with two kitchens, a library, a gymnasium, a basketball court, and a movie theater. And there’s obviously also the Batcave.”

The other man clapped happily and rubbed his hands together out of excitement, unable to contain himself.

“This is unreal, Bruce. It’s like I’m in paradise. I went from living in an abandoned subway station...to the fanciest manor in Gotham! Ah, it’s so nice having all this...space! Not to mention that Bane and Harley aren’t here to argue about nonsense all day long. We have to arrange a move night sometime! Tell me, are you more of a beef jerky or corn bites guy?” John shrugged. “Ah heck, I’ll just bring both! Hehe!”

“Just be sure to keep a low profile,” I reminded him. “The Agency can’t know you’re here. Otherwise, they’ll tear the place apart brick-by-brick, and take you back to Arkham. Or worse -- slap a collar on you like the rest of the Pact. If you ever want to leave the house, there’s a another exit through the Batcave that will draw much less attention than the front door. And try not to go out by yourself, got it? I wanna make sure you’re safe.”

John nodded, giving me a thumbs-up. “Got it!”

“Great. Now, why don’t you go set up your room?”

He smirked at me, picking up his bags. “Oh, I’ve been so excited for this moment, Brucie! Decorating my own room in Wayne Manor,” John sighed in satisfaction. “This is a dream come true. You and I -- we are gonna have so...much...fun!”

Hurrying up the elegant staircase with his belongings, John practically glided to his room as Alfred passed him on the way down, giving the clown a subtle gesture of acknowledgement before making his way to me. 

Despite the smile on the butler’s face and his straightened posture, I could still tell something wasn’t quite right, and as soon as John’s echoing cackle disappeared down the corridor, the old man broke his charade, voicing his concerns.

“I mean no disrespect towards your friend, Bruce,” he said lowly, “but are you sure it’s a good idea to have him stay here?”

Alfred and I wandered over to a more secluded corner of the manor, hoping to keep out of earshot while I explained the situation to him.

“I can’t just let John roam around Gotham by himself, Al. He’s not exactly the type of person to lay low, and the Agency’s been keeping an extremely close eye on him lately. One wrong move, and he’ll be behind bars. I have to watch him.”

The butler didn’t appear convinced. 

“...Well, perhaps that’s not such a bad thing,” he argued. “I know you care for him, but in the end, John is a criminal. And he must be brought to justice. We can’t ignore that, Bruce. Batman can’t.”

I paused for a moment, unable to deny that Alfred had a point. 

Crossing my arms, I checked to make sure John was still out of sight. 

“Look, I know John’s made mistakes--”

“--He’s murdered people.” Alfred corrected.

“--But...” I continued, “I don’t think he’s beyond saving. Not yet, anyways. You said it yourself, Alfred. He’s my friend. I can’t just give up on him and toss him in jail. He’s...he’s all I have left. I mean, Tiffany’s with the Agency, Lucius is gone, and now Waller’s threatening to take John away, too. I have to at least try to help him.”

Realizing that there was no way he was going to sway my mind, Alfred let out a defeated sigh and dropped the subject, evidently anxious about what would come in the future.

“...Very well, sir. I trust your decision, but please...proceed with caution. Soon, the time will come when you must choose which is more important: your friendship with John, or your duty as Batman -- and I don’t want your judgement to be hindered.”

I gave him an assuring nod, heading upstairs to check on my friend. 

“Don’t worry, Alfred. As much as I care about John, I’m not blind. If I think he’s fallen beyond repair, Batman will be the first one to step in. But he’ll be brought to justice the right way. I won’t let Waller lay a finger on him, no matter what happens.”

From Oswald’s POV

THE STACKED DECK

“The hunt for the Joker continues,” Jack Ryder reported, his voice barely audible over the rock music filling up the bar, “and the police are desperate to find any leads that could help them find the perpetrator. Fortunately for Gotham, the Joker seems to have gone underground recently and has even ‘vanished’ according to some. In the past few days, there have been no reports of any Joker-related crimes, and the green-haired clown hasn’t been spotted by anyone. Normally, a moment of peace such as this would be appreciated, but one can’t help wondering if the reason the Joker has disappeared...is he’s planning something bigger. But of course, we will keep all you viewers out there informed with any updates. I’m Jack Ryder, and you’re watching Gotham TV.”

I softly chuckled at the news and glanced downwards at my beer bottle, happily taking a sip as I watched the chaos unravel in Gotham’s news. At this point, I wasn’t even upset by all the mayhem slowly tearing down this city, and a part of me was even thrilled. 

I had learned enough about Gotham to know that its citizens were far from innocent, and the ones who were died ages ago. The only people who survived in this godforsaken place were men in suits, and those controlling them from the shadows. As far as I was concerned, Joker’s hell-raising rampage was nothing but some well-earned karma, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I only hoped that karma also hit Bruce Wayne.

I was still having difficulty imagining that billionaire pretty boy as Batman. Not only did the two of them act nothing alike, but they were also on complete opposite ends of the spectrum.

The Waynes hurt people; killed them, even. Anyone who was brave enough to oppose them got murdered or thrown in Arkham by Thomas...and yet, his son grew up to become a vigilante. Someone who fought against people like his father. Why?

Maybe this was Bruce’s way of making amends? Maybe he knew the truth about his dear, old dad all along, and wore the mask so he could do more good for the world without risking his reputation. Like he did when Joseph bullied me as a kid. 

Pft. I didn’t know whether to admire or condemn him. 

All I did know...was that I had to kill him. And quickly.

Ordering another drink, I suddenly sensed a presence walking up behind me as the bartender waltzed off, causing me to glance over my shoulder. 

Standing not too far away from me, there was a young woman dressed in a neat, grey blazer and high heels, and her brown hair had been tied into an elegant bun. She was equipped with an advanced pistol that hid just beneath her jacket, and in her hand, she held a clipboard. I guessed this woman must’ve been with the Agency. She had that...look.

“So you’re released from prison after an entire year on the inside,” she said, “...and this is the first place you visit? I...guess I see the appeal.”

I paid no mind to her comment.

“I was in Blackgate for quite a while, love. I’d say I deserve a drink.”

The woman stepped closer. “Just make sure you don’t overdo it. I need your senses to be alert.”

Putting the beer down for a moment, I gave her an irritated glare and casually stood up from my chair, approaching the agent.

“And just who the hell are you?” I questioned. “I’m working on assassinating Gotham’s favorite vigilante for you people, yet your lips remain tighter than the security at Blackgate. Can I get a code name, at the very least?”

Surprisingly, the woman reacted in a more-than-friendly manner and held out her hand, smiling warmly at me.

“Agent Iman Avesta,” she introduced. “You met my partner yesterday. Vernon Blake.” 

I didn’t return the handshake, and went back to my stool. 

“You can call me Oz,” I replied, “but I assume you know that already. The Agency seems to know a lot ‘bout me. So, what, you here to keep an eye on me?”

Avesta took a seat next to me. “Something like that. Waller just wants to make sure you don’t do anything too...rash. I’m sure you understand.”

I quirked a brow. “If she don’t trust me, then why’d she hire me to do the job?”

“Waller has absolute confidence in your skills,” the agent explained, “but that’s the extent of her trust. Not that I blame her. After all, you were associated with the Children of Arkham. It’d be foolish to let you act alone. It’s nothing personal, of course. The Director watches all her ‘allies’ very closely.”

I scoffed. “You mean like the Pact? I know they’re working for her.”

Avesta seemed impressed. “Well, well. Looks like we’re not the only ones who are good at learning secrets. Waller made a good choice, hiring you for the job. I look forward to accompanying you.”

Finishing my drink, I placed the empty bottle aside and turned to the agent.

“...And how exactly does Waller want me to approach this mission?” I asked. “Any rules I should know about? Any lines I can’t cross?”

Avesta shook her head. “Aside from deserting the mission itself, no. The Director has granted you full permission to do anything it takes to kill Batman. And she means anything.”

Slightly nodding in approval, I separated myself from the bar and prepared to leave, Avesta tagging along with me as we strolled outside.

“Well, all right then. If that’s the case, I think I know just what to do for our first step. But I’m gonna need your help finding someone.”

She appeared intrigued. “Oh, really? And who would that be?”

I smirked, eager to get down to business.

“...Ever heard of a man named Joseph Hunt?”

#telltale games #telltale batman #the enemy within #bruce wayne #oswald cobblepot #john doe #joker #cobblebats #batjokes #fanfic #story

[camsthisky]

I have a fic request: imagine the media going crazy when they realize that Bruce Wayne has brought a kid (Dick) into his home, so obviously they get photo shoot requests. And Bruce hates them normally (he's done his fair share of them in the past), but Dick gets all excited like "wow, sounds fun!" So Bruce concedes just this once, and all the photographers are stunned because wow Bruce's smile is so genuine when he's looking at or with Dick and they're laughing and cute and very photogenic haha

Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy!

“I don’t think this is a very good idea,” Bruce says for the third time this morning, and Dick has to roll his eyes at Bruce’s disgruntled expression from over his cereal. Bruce catches the look and his expression twists. “I’m being serious, Dick. A photo shoot? From my experience, they’re nightmares.”

“Everything is a nightmare to you,” Dick laughs. “The only thing you like doing is dressing like a bat and scaring people. Besides, you never know. It could be lots of fun!”

Bruce’s face settles into something exasperated, and Alfred walks into the dining room. There’s nothing about the butler’s expression that says that he’s heard anything Dick and Bruce had just said, but there’s a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he announces, “Master Bruce, might I suggest you hurry along breakfast? The photographers will be here in less than twenty minutes.”

Dick speed-eats his cereal after that, eager to have some fun taking a few pictures. After all, he’d done it all the time at the circus. So many people had asked to take pictures with Dick’s family before and after shows that Dick almost missed the constant attention.

“Dick?” Bruce asks, a furrow in his brow as his fork hovers between plate and mouth. He’s giving Dick an odd look. “Are you finished?”

Looking down at his bowl, Dick finds that wow. He is finished. He hadn’t even noticed it, and he gives Bruce a smile and a nod. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m done!” he says, and pushes away from the table. Alfred swoops in and takes the empty bowl from in front of him, which is something that Dick isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to. It’s hard to remember that Alfred’s a butler and not a another guardian like Bruce is. “Thanks, Alfie!”

“You’re quite welcome, Master Dick,” Alfred says. “No go and get ready for the photo shoot.”

Dick sends Alfred a grin. “’Kay.”

And then he’s up the stairs, leaving behind two semi-amused adults. No matter what Bruce says, Dick’s going to make the most of it.

Honestly, Bruce is just hoping for this to end as soon as possible. He’s already greeted the photographers, shown them to the room they’ll be using, and made small talk with them. He knows that his reluctance is showing through his act of “Brucie” Wayne, but at this point, Bruce isn’t sure he actually cares. He just wants this over with.

“So,” the main photographer, Dave Wilson, says cheerfully, “I thought this was going to be with both you and Richard, Mr. Wayne?”

When Bruce had agreed, he’d made sure that only one or to were going to be in his house at a time. And Dave’s assistant is quiet as she helps set up the gear. He’s glad that he doesn’t have to deal with a dozen people at once, but he still laments having to do another one of these at all. Alfred had said it would be good for their image, though, after the adoption papers had gotten rejected and the permanent guardianship papers had gone through.

Bruce sends Dave a tolerant smile. “Dick will be along in a minute. I think he and Alfred were choosing his outfits.”

Bruce will, of course, only be wearing a suit, but Dick had said if they were going to do this, he was going to make the most of it, and Bruce is almost scared at what the boy he’d picked up from the circus has in store. The kid swung from chandeliers, for goodness sake.

“We’re here,” Dick announces as he slides into the room. Bruce has to hold back a smile as he takes in Dick’s assortment of clothes. Because really, it’s not much of an outfit, if Bruce did say so himself. Dick holds out his arms and twirls around so Bruce can see the entire thing. “Well, whaddaya think?”

Bruce hums playfully, pretending to take Dick in from all angles. “So what’re we thinking here? Pirate chef?”

Dick rolls his eyes mockingly. “Gee, Bruce, I guess you just don’t know what the kids wear these days. I’m obviously a pirate doctor.”

“Obviously,” Bruce says, his lips quirking up. “Now, where are your real clothes?”

Dick pouts. “Aw, Bruce, you’re no fun!”

“Go change, Dick,” Bruce says, pointing at the hallway where Alfred is still looking rather amused over the whole thing. Well, Bruce is a little bit, too, if he’s being honest with himself. When Dick just folds his arms over his chest, Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Now, Dick.”

“Fine,” Dick sighs, dropping the pouty face. He points at Bruce threateningly. “Just know that I’m doing this under protest.”

“Noted.”

And when Dick and Alfred are both gone to have Dick change into the outfit Alfred actually picked, Bruce turns back to the photographers. He gives them a patient smile, his nerves somewhat smoothed over by Dick. “Sorry about that. He’s not used to formal photo shoots, and he’s excited on top of that.”

“No need to apologize.” Dave waves him off, a knowing grin plastered on his face. A matching smile, maybe a bit less intense, is on his assistant’s face, and Bruce can’t help but blink in confusion. “I think that if you two just be yourself, we’ll have a lot of amazing shots today.”

Surprisingly, Dave’s right. The photo shoot passes by quickly. Almost too quickly. Bruce finds himself having the time of his life with Dick, and he thinks as he and Dick eat lunch afterwards, that maybe it won’t be too bad to do another of those soon.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #dc #here's some fluff for all of you #prompt #camryn writes