bruce knocks on your apartment door after a long moment of hesitation. he knows he shouldn't be here. in fact, he's got a constant mental war going on about this very thing. should he be with you? is he going to ruin you? is it just putting you in danger?

i mean, of course it would put you in danger to be actually together. that's not even a question for bruce. no attatchment.

if gothams favourite ballerina and socialite was caught with the ruthless businessman bruce wayne, both of their reputations would be disgraced. he knows that. she knows that.

bruce is pictured with a new girl on his arm every other fucking week, and you're known for your pristine image. your ballet teacher doesn't want you dating, either.

that won't stop the two of you from doing bad things.

even if that comes in the form of a friend's with benefits type situation. however, the pounding of bruce's heart when she sees your bright smile - that could blind someone, he swears - doesn't not scream friend with benefits. it screams this girl is going to be the death of me.

and he doesn't mind it one bit.

you drag him, by his shirt, into your apartment, of course. with that same bright smile. lipstick ends up all over his face, and your eyes are on him. only him. just like when you perform, and your eyes scan the entire crowd, just to eventually land on his form.

when he's not there, it makes your heart slip. it's awful, really awful, because you should not be feeling like this about him!

you know you're not a bad girl, but... “i'll do bad things with you.” you whisper up to him, pressing more lipstick stained kisses on his lips and jaw.

in the next hour, he has scratches all down his back. he's yours to keep, but that means...

he's yours to lose, too.

“you've done a number on me.” he breathes out into your hair.

“honestly, baby, who's counting?” you grin up at him.

“come here, angel.” he returns the smile, rare for bruce, with a twinkle in his eyes that you could only describe as admiration...

...affection?