kyle writes things

Nothing’s gonna harm you (not while i’m around)

Hey everyone! Remember when, two months ago, I said I was working on a Baby BatCat fanfiction? Well, I finally got around to finishing it!

I’m sorry it took me so long, but what was intended to be a small, fluffy OS turned into a behemoth of a fic, filled with angst and hurt/comfort. So I guess it’s a win? Please enjoy!

Baby BatCat. Post-Season 3 Winter Finale.

It’s been two days since the standoff between Bruce and Jerome. While Bruce is having trouble coming to terms with his ordeal, Selina has never been more worried about anything or anyone.

This missing moment is about the two of them taking care of each other, having important conversations, and realizing that protecting and trusting are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

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“No one’s gonna hurt you,

No one’s gonna dare.

Others can desert you,

Not to worry, whistle, I’ll be there.”

— Not While I’m Around,

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street




Selina quietly observed him from behind the window as he sat on the couch opposite the fireplace, his lanky frame somewhat tense, shoulders sagged and head low. It had been a couple of days since Jerome wrecked havoc on Gotham and tried to murder Bruce, and Selina couldn’t remember a time when she had felt more terrified for him. The moment she’d learned about what had happened, she’d gone straight to Wayne manor, not even caring that she was supposed to be mad at Bruce—she just wanted, needed to make sure he was okay.

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Selina didn’t care for parties. Too many people. She cared even less for Gotham. She’d have just as gladly never come back.

Yet here she was, at a party in Gotham.

Bruce Wayne kept nothing she wanted, nothing that wasn’t his. And the cats liked him. They were good judges of character. Some part of her was glad.

She’d left the ballroom when she’d decided it wouldn’t get better. She may have been a little overwhelmed. Too many people, too tempting to claw some of their faces off. Unpleasant smiles, looking at her like a potential pet. She was as wealthy as they were, but one wouldn’t know it from the way they looked at her.

Wayne Manor had cats like some places had mice. They lived in the woods along the mountain, some descended from generations of ferals and others abandoned by idiots. Out in the garden and under the moonlight, they wound themselves around her legs and stretched out in the grass.

That one is coming, they said, but they were neither threatened nor excited. She turned her head. Bruce Wayne, remaining at a distance in the dark. He was the first to break the silence.

“That’s a lot of cats.”

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