The Knight (Batman/Bruce Wayne x Reader) P1

I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, GOTHAM CITY, OR ANY OF BATMAN'S BAD ASS GADGETS.


He stalked as he always had, but there was something different. Now, must to his disgust, he had taken to patrolling a very specific Gotham sector. If Gotham had a middle class sector, this would be it. Your sector.

The Batman tried to remain unprejudiced, it helped him do his job, but sometimes prejudice couldn’t be helped. It was like trying to say ‘no’ to a drug you’d already had a taste of, and you were the drug. You were his heroin.

He didn’t know what had come over him that first night he met you. It was like he was in a waking dream.


He was perched atop a gargoyle, nearly a month ago, watching for trouble. It never took long before it found him, and tonight was no exception. Below him, in an alley, there were screams. A woman’s screams. He looked down on you and saw three thugs moving in towards you menacingly.

“Come on, baby, just a quickie,” one of them said. “If you struggle, it’ll only hurt more.”

“I think I’ll pass, guys,” you said nervously, backing yourself into a wall. “But thanks for asking.”

Your face was hidden by a hoodie, and the Batman found himself wanting desperately to see your face. He wondered the color of your hair and eyes, the shape of your lips and jaw, the curves of your nose and brow. He was curious of how you looked, but he also wondered if it truly mattered to him.

“It wasn’t that kind of question, babe,” the man sneered. “Now I’m serious, roll over like a good little dog, and don’t fight it.”

“You’ll have to buy me dinner first,” you retorted, failing to keep the fearful tremor out of your tone.

Silently, The Batman dropped on top of one of the thugs, taking him down instantly. The others turned only to be met with swift fists to the face. The whole ordeal took less than fifteen seconds. The Batman left as soon as he’d came, taking out a grapple and attaching it to the nearest roof.

“Hold up!” you called before he took off. He didn’t dare look at you, for fear he wouldn’t be able to look away. So he stood, statue-like, knuckles whitening underneath his gloves, without moving a single inch to see you. “You’re Batman, right?” No response. “Thank you for saving me back there. Those guys aren’t gonna come within a hundred feet of me again. Thanks.”

“...Yeah.” he allowed. He immediately regretted it. Now he had to look. When he did, everything stopped. The Earth underneath him stopped spinning, he stopped breathing, time stopped passing, and he could only gaze at you with an odd, weightless sensation.

“You alright?” you asked. Your hood had fallen down, and he could see every edge of your face in the pale moonlight. Your hair flowing down softly, frizzy from a long day of work. Eyes dark and shimmering in the meager moon light.

“I’m fine,” he growled in his voice-concealing monotone. “You should go home, before they wake up.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? I could be the next Robin!” you offered.

“Why would you come with me?”

“I dunno,” You looked at the ground. “I’m a volunteer at a hospital, I can do your stitches or something.”

“I can do my own stitches.”

“But it’s so much more fun with company!”

He looked at you curiously. You were easily the most confusing creature he knew (that wasn’t criminally insane), and he wanted you to come with him. That was why you were so dangerous for him, he couldn’t have those kinds of wants. When he did, people got hurt.

“No.”

You fake pouted.

“Come on!” you whined. “Riding in the batmobile is on my bucket list!”

“Are you dying?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice, making him cringe inwardly.

“Well...no,” you admitted. “But I will someday, and I might not get another chance like this!”

He tried to stop himself. He bit his tongue, clenched his teeth, and nearly ripped open his knuckles holding the grapple so tightly.

“Fine,” he growled.

“YES!” you whisper-shouted, pumping your fist up and down. You wrapped your arms around his waist and hung on for dear life as he released the grapple and you flew up into the air. Your laugh set the Batman abuzz with an electrifying feeling in his chest.

“That was awesome!” you cried, on top of the building. You were giggling with childish excitement, and it made him want to giggle too. But, The Batman did not giggle.

“Do you want to see something else?” he suggested.

“You know I do.”

Into his wrist, Batman muttered, “Alfred, bring in the batcopter.”

He cursed himself for revealing the name of his butler, but you didn’t seem to notice, and in moments the batcopter was heard in the distance.

“No. Way,” you breathed. He loved watching you be amazed by all his gadgets and quirks. He knew they weren’t in the average person’s repertoire, but your amusement was unprecedented. Even Dick had been less excited at all this.

The batcopter landed on the roof and your hair whipped around in your face, obscuring your vision but not your grin. Batman knew this was trouble, but he didn’t stop it there, he wanted to keep impressing you, to keep amazing you.

He helped you into the copter, showing you how to buckle in and then getting in himself. Before he lifted the helicopter, he found a stray piece of cloth and went to tie it around your eyes. You looked at him skeptically, but didn’t try to pull away.

“Into some pretty kinky stuff, eh Batman?” you joked.

“It’s so you can’t see where we’re going,” he explained calmly, ignoring your comment.

“But that’s the fun part!” you whined, not sounding all that inconvenienced.

Batman took the controls and lifted up off the ground smoothly.

You could feel the copter lifting off, and you giggled at the sensation and the wind whipping your hair in your face. Halfway to the Wayne Manor you choked on a strand of hair and coughed before continuing on your giddy journey.

Batman set the copter down on top of the cave and Alfred--seeing the incoming vehicle--opened the hatch and allowed him passage to the cave.

Upon landing, he hopped out of his seat and went around the side to let you out. When Alfred revealed himself by the batcomputer, Batman shooed him away with a hand. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but nodded curtly and made a silent exit.

You fumbled your way out of the helicopter without Batman’s help and asked, “Can I take the blindfold off now?”

In response, he made his way to you and gingerly removed the cloth. He wanted to linger on your eyes, which in the light of the batcave he could see were a calm (eye color), full of wonder and awe. Not at him anymore, at the intricate technologies of the cave.

“Where are we?” you breathed, unable to do anything but wander and gape at the new surroundings.

“The Batcave,” he told you simply.

“Is this like, your home base?”

“You could say that.” To his loathing, Batman caught himself relaxing with your every word. He forced himself to stiffen and tense, as if the taught muscles would block you from him.

“What are the acoustics like in here?” you pondered absently. “AhhhhhhAHHHHH!” you sang, projecting your voice and letting it echo around the curved cave walls.

“You sing,” Batman observed, feeling like the echoes made it all the way to his chest and were bouncing around, warming him and making his body buzz.

“Yep. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. You might have heard of me.”

He had heard of you. He had seen ads for you in the newspaper. You were slowly making a name for yourself as a cover artist by doing weddings and other parties.

“I don’t suppose you sing, do you Batman?” You smirked thinking of the dark and mighty Batman soloing at some jazz club.

“I do a little,” he admitted, never taking his eyes off of you, and never changing his expression. Even if he couldn’t stop his insides from malfunctioning around you, he had plenty of practice controlling his outsides.

“You do?” you scoffed, surprise apparent on your face as you turned to Batman, who fought the urge to glance away.

“Yes.”

“And...I don’t suppose you would sing for me, would you?”

“No.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged. You went to the batcomputer and slumped into the cushy seat. “I’ve got pretty bad stage fright too.”

“Then why do you make a living on the stage?” he questioned, frowning.

You rubbed your eyes, suddenly feeling the late hour in your body and mind. “‘Cause I have something to give,” you sighed. “I sang once at a karaoke bar, and a girl came up to me and said that my singing brightened her whole day. So I decided to keep doing it. Kind of like you, you face your fears to better the city, I face mine to better it’s people’s lives.”

“You sound like you’ve given it a lot of thought,” Batman said, ignoring your comment on him.

“How else am I gonna convince myself that it’s worth it?”

There was a pause, and Batman looked at you for the thousandth time. You were drifting off, completely unfazed by the Batman’s presence. That was by far the strangest thing about you: you didn’t fear him. all of Gotham seemed to, the crooks certainly did, but not you.

“I should take you home,” he said, breaking the moment before the urge to kiss you became too difficult to fight.

You groaned approval but curled up in the chair and didn’t move. Soon the sound of your breathing slowed and it was clear that you were sleeping.

Gingerly, Batman glided to you and hovered a hand about your arm. He had to get you home, but you didn’t seem to have any desire to help him achieve that task.

He quickly searched your pockets and found your phone, flipping through it until he located your address--not far from where he’d picked you up. Deciding not to think about it, he swept you up bridal style and took you to the batmobile, setting you down gently in the passenger seat and quietly joining you in the driver’s side.

In the high speed, stealth batmobile, you didn’t so much as stir during the five minute drive to your apartment. He found your key and let himself in.

On the way up to your room, Batman encountered a neighbor on the stairs, taking a long drag on a cigarette. Upon seeing the masked figure carrying a sleeping girl up the stairs, he dropped his cigarette and gawked. Batman glared at him until he stubbed out the butt and then continued climbing.

Your apartment was clean, but disorganized, and highly personal. There were posters from your favorite movies and bands, and photographs of friends and family could be seen from any part of the room.

He lay you down on your bed and slid off your shoes, laying them carefully at the foot of your bed. He tucked you into your covers and lingered on your face before leaving just as swiftly as he’d come.


Y/N Y/L/N. His weakness, his fatal flaw, the chink in his impregnable armor.

That hadn’t been the last time he saw you. He tried to forget you, or at least ignore you, but it had proven to be impossible. He gravitated towards you from some unknown instinct. Now he saw you every night. He watched you and studied you, gathered every detail he could from a distance.

But he didn’t even stop there. He wanted to speak to you, to hear your voice, to know more about you. He wanted to hear about your family, and be told the tales behind all your trashy fridge magnets and why you sang.

That was why he had hired you to entertain a party at Wayne Manor tomorrow night.

He was more nervous and excited than he could remember being. This would be your first time meeting Bruce Wayne. What if you didn’t like him? What if you did?

Of course, dating Bruce Wayne was safer than dating The Batman, and he knew that, but he also knew that Bruce Wayne wasn’t who he really was, and he hoped that you would know that too.

Far down below him, he saw you chatting with a club owner, a young woman with red hair and a cheery demeanor.

Would it be selfish of him to hope that you hated Bruce Wayne? Would it be selfish to tell you his identity as the Batman?

Who could say? But what more could be said for love: it was selfish.