honeyhenry - Tumblr blog

honeyhenry · 16 hours ago

Text

The Love Bug

Based on this part in "The Sweet Outdoors": “We were on a picnic over there last year, barely anyone was around, and your mother…in the nicest way…she threw up right there on the base of that tree. I had to hold her hair back and pray that no one else in the park had seen because it was bad. Funnily enough, the next day, we found out about you.” He smiled softly at the memory. Words: 1.7k Warnings: vomit, fainting, fluff, a lil angst at the end but that's up for interpretation!! also i am taking requests!!

August.

The leaves on the mature fir trees lining the luscious, grassy park had filled out and demanded a great presence on the outskirts of the small village. They waved gloriously in the warm summer breeze, firm-standing and beautiful. At the base of each tree lay knots of tangled roots, reminding any onlookers that even the most astonishing creatures could be born from imperfect and messy beginnings.

It was the perfect place to have a picnic, you'd thought. At least, that was what you had insisted to Bruce, who had asked you that morning what you desired to do that day. In the habit of knowing you better than you even knew yourself, he had realised you had been out of sorts, and vowed to ensure of your every happiness. He'd sent you to the masseuse and the nail salon, and taken you to the beach only a few days prior for the sea air and a chance to cheekily pull at your bikini strings.

And yet you still hadn't been entirely yourself.

So a picnic date, handsomely prepared by Alfred, had been set in your well-worn wicker basket to be taken along to the park that very afternoon. No flashy car, no luxury dining - just some cheese, bread, wine, and a sundress that Bruce would argue was far too indecent to be seen in public.

Fortunately, the park was empty save for the two of you, although you could never be sure that Bruce hadn't paid for it to remain that way. Still, as he laid the soft, tartan picnic blanket beside one of the giant firs, you realised that this plan had been perfect after all. Admiring your husband as he produced two wine glasses, you grinned like a schoolgirl. His thick forearms were visible in his shirt, his sleeves rolled up as if the fabric alone didn't cost hundreds of dollars before tailoring.

You placed each item out onto the blanket, gathering plates and utensils, opening the packet of grapes and popping one into your mouth whole. The cheese was next, one of Bruce's favourite's, followed by fresh bread from Gotham's best kept secret - Bella's Bakery. In present company, and among further dips and snacks, you were in absolute bliss.

"For the lady" Bruce gestured, having popped the cork and poured the wine into your glass. Taking it from him, you breathed a kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, my love. Isn't it-"

"Breathtaking" he finishes for you, but the awed gaze he held was only on you. You'd blushed.

"Mr Wayne, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were quite fond of me. Do you deny that?"

Leaning over to press his muscular body ever closer to you - not being one for personal space when it comes to his wife - holding his own glass with an air of confidence you could never match, he replied in a whisper right at the shell of your ear.

"Never."

The afternoon blurred into the evening, with the sun beginning to set behind the first row of hedges across from where you sit. You have shared recent stories, fond memories, and tipped over one glass of wine already as a result of being too careless when you'd lain on him for more than a few quick pecks. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises was a cautious man most of the time, but you certainly knew of his alter ego, who could be far more spontaneous at any given moment.

"I can't believe we have been married for 4 years already" you muse, and he hums in thoughtful agreement. "I can't wait to do this for the rest of our lives." Bruce grins softly at your comment. How he ever could deserve the happiness you were currently the culprit for, he'd never know. All he knows is that he wants this, and this forever;

Fond, sunny strolls in gardens of the manor; welfare visits to the orphanages the two of you sponsor in the city; late night runs to your favourite store; last minute travels to a city of your choice; disappearing in bed for days on end, barely coming up for breath; early, dozy mornings with smiles and soft touches and kisses and kisses and kisses...

He blinked back to reality abruptly. You had moved sharply from his lap, racing to your feet and groaning.

"Bruce, I don't- I think I'm gonna- oh!"

You did your very best to turn quickly, but with great misfortune, hadn't moved far at all before you had bent over at a ninety degree angle and proceeded to heave out the entirety of your picnic dinner, wine and all, onto the twisted roots of the beautiful fir tree.

"Shit-" is all you heard before you felt a strong pair of arms holding your entire weight upright as you continued your retching. You felt a hand hold your hair back and gentle shushing from who you could only hope and pray was your absolute saint of a husband. You shuddered a final time, before collapsing back into his arms.

"Darling, stay with me. Please, look- we're going to go home...are you certain Alfred packed our food..?" he paused, looking at your weary body and clammy complexion before holding your face in his hands and looking into your eyes with a grave sense of purpose. "I promise, you will be okay."

Much to both his and your dismay, the tears had followed suit.

"Bruce oh God- what if, if someone saw?! Bruce your name, I've- I've ruined it all- I can't- I didn't- what if they saw and they use it against you...oh Bruce I'm so sorry!" you all but plead your final apology, words rushing out like a hurricane before you can even truly process what has happened.

Bruce holds you in his arms, close. Your body feels like what he imagines a baby deer as when they take their first steps - wobbly and unpredictable. Being a solution oriented and successful businessman, he calls for Alfred to bring the car immediately.

By the time Alfred reaches you both in the sleek black vehicle, you've passed out in your husband's arms. The butler leaves the car engine running, jumping out at the shock of seeing you barely conscious.

"Oh goodness, Mrs Wayne! Master Wayne is she-"

"She vomited. Hard. Passed out a few minutes ago. We need to get back to the house. Once there, I need you to contact the physician, and prepare that soup she loves with tomatoes. I won't lose her, Alfred."

The last phrase he speaks is more reassurance for himself than anyone else in the car that night. "I won't lose her, she has to be okay."

__________

The emergency physician arrives that very night, not even an hour after Bruce places you into the master bed, and confirms that fluids and rest should do the trick. The physician is highly qualified with a pleasant bedside manner, but it doesn't deny the fact that you have given Bruce quite the scare. He sits at your bedside all through the night, whispering small nothings and peppering gentle kisses to your palm as he holds your hand through it all.

You stir at 8am, nearly 12 hours later. Your head splits in pain and your groan of discomfort moves a sleepy Bruce, right by your side.

"Honey...it's me. How are you feeling?"

"Head...it hurts. And I'm starving." you whine a little, your stomach grumbling as if on cue. "What happened?" you ask, curiously.

"You were unwell. At the tree stump. And then you fainted in my arms. Alfred took us home, you worried him something awful by the way. I don't think he'll be off your case now until at least New Year." he chuckles, but you see the fine lines on his face, how they had deepened, and that his eyes were red-rimmed and twitching slightly.

Alfred hadn't been the only one who had been worried, it seemed.

Before you can speak, he continues to inform you. "Alfred is bringing up that soup you love, and some bread. And you must keep drinking - although less of that wine, I think." Ever one for a flair for the dramatic, he continues "I am not leaving you, or this room, until you are better."

That makes you smile, and Bruce is grateful to see it. You're somehow shining brightly as if you'd never been ill, but the way your face contorts as you shift your head brings you both back to reality.

The Wayne family doctor arrives shortly after noon. She is reserved for the use of select clients who have access to her services nearly 24 hours every day. She was important, Bruce had believed, and now a necessity, as he watches her take your blood pressure and check your vision for signs of distortion.

"It's all looking clear so far Mrs Wayne. It just appears as though your body is seeming a little more exhausted these days, would you know of any reason why? Perhaps some later nights?" Yes, patching up Batman, you thought. "Stressful situations?" Yes, because my husband is Batman and has no concept of risk aversion whatsoever, and I sit and worry about him each and every night. You definitely couldn't say that either, so you shook your head, grateful that the painkillers had kicked in by now.

"I see, and your last menstrual bleed?" the doctor asked, in a quieter tone but Bruce could certainly hear it from where he stood at one of the pillars of the four-poster bed. He blinked with a furrowed brow, trying to work out what that information would even mean when-

"Oh! It was- Oh goodness, maybe... the beginning of June? You don't think... am I...?" You look to the doctor, shock painting your features as you drink in the situation. You count back the weeks, and sure enough, it's been 10 weeks since your last period. You look to Bruce, who you believe has actually turned to stone, as his movements have entirely halted, an unblinking, brow furrowing, jaw clenching, stop-in-his-tracks type of shock taking over his entire being.

You know the doctor must be sensing some form of panic in both your features and in the silence as she speaks again in her pleasant and calm tone.

"I think you may need to take a pregnancy test, Mrs Wayne."

#I am looking through this to ensure of correct Tone 🤗

61 notes · View notes

honeyhenry · 16 hours ago

Text

oh hey look what’s next 👀

#I’m gonna screeeeeeeam hehe #Many thoughts to be thinked

8 notes · View notes

honeyhenry · 2 days ago

Text

Possessive!Bruce headcanons

I'm very nervous to post this as it's a little different from my usual work! I tried my very best to write this as it was my first ever request for Bruce and had been voted over 50 times by you lovely lot! I really hope I have done this justice, it's still very sweet because I just love sweet things!!

Bruce is the type of man to have his hands all over you, certainly in private but definitely in public. He wants every eye looking in your direction to immediately link the two of you together. To know that the two of you are connected physically, and in every other way.

Often at the galas you both attend, his hand will rest at the small of your back as you both effortlessly glide past your guests, pausing briefly to smile or offer a kind or complimentary word. (You were too sweet for a man like him, he thinks, but he will always aim to be a better man for you and follow suit.)

Speaking of!!!! The compliments this man gives you in front of others not only makes you blush, but is a double edged sword for anyone who had even a millisecond of thought about you or your relationship.

"isn't my girl so beautiful" aka she's the most beautiful and she's mine

"I couldn't host any of this without her" aka we are never parting even for a moment

"we're just as surprised as you are that we managed to have the manor prepared for you all arriving....we are incredibly busy" aka you two fucked all day because it was duty to keep you happy while you were simply begging for him...

and believe me...the subtext is obvious to everyone close enough to hear him

whew

but yes at galas he has you right by his side, keeping close to you, and if he's not holding the small of your back then he will definitely be holding your hand

not in a clingy way but in a "she's mine and she's staying with me while I talk funds and management strategies." you don't mind leaning into his broad stature, squeezing your hand when you want his attention, which he readily gives

there are many times where you miss an event because he was just too wrapped up in you to care about actually leaving the manor

"baby, you look too good I don't want anyone else to see you...this can be just for me"

"bruce...I spent so long getting ready...I was looking forward to trying that place's oysters"

the Michelin star resort delivers the oysters to the manor door for Alfred to receive, right as bruce has you on your second orgasm that night

at high end restaurants, or the days you manage to convince your upper-class husband to visit your favourite local cafe, he always requests a booth so you can sit together.

he's not sitting across a table from you when he could be right there with a strong arm around your waist and a hand on your thigh as the waitstaff take your orders, hopefully being paid well enough for their efforts to ignore the intimacy of your embrace

Bruce just can't help the fact that he'd delivered quite an exquisite dress to you earlier that day, so his presence by your side ensured that anyone who dared to look, would have to deal with him first.

the dress - and you - were for his eyes only

once, Bruce had snapped both of your orders at a poor young boy who's gaze had merely blinked down to your cleavage, before growling a request for another waiter "with manners"

"Bruce, he's only young...besides...the dress doesn't leave much-"

a squeeze to your thigh lets you know, even without words, that he was deadly serious about his claim on you

"no one looks at what is mine" he had gritted out

the jewellery also marks his possessive nature!!! You hadn't had much of a collection before meeting Bruce, and now he could use his wealth to decorate you in pretty jewels and precious metals that people would instantly associate with his status and class

the first he gifts you is a bracelet with "mine" engraved on the inside. once he clips it onto you, you never take it off, matching it with every outfit for every occasion. for you it's far more sentimental, and you enjoy being his.

you don't mind his little possessive streak. you feel so safe knowing how invested he is in you, how serious he is about his commitment to you.

the second item of jewellery he buys for you is a pair of earrings, worn only to grand events, with sparkling diamonds that glint beautifully with each and every dress you own

he loves hearing you be complimented on your jewellery "oh thank you, Bruce got me them. doesn't he have wonderful taste?"

oh yes, he thinks, he does.

you adore the necklace he gifted you for Christmas one year, and make it a habit to wear every day. A small, dainty, shining letter 'B' hanging from a delicate chain. Initially, Bruce had suggested it stood for you being his baby, one of his favourite nicknames for you. but you knew better. B stood for Bruce, and it meant you belonged to him

one of your most precious - if not the most special - pieces he gifted you was your engagement ring

you dread to even think of a number that comes close to its value, but when he dropped on one knee, Bruce Wayne knew that a giant diamond was the best way for people to know you were his

in every picture since your engagement, he loves to find and look at your hand which unmistakably carries the precious stone. through photographic evidence, you were his.

when you married, and had been spotted at further events, it was unmistakable that you were a Wayne due to the pearls hanging gracefully around your neck

Martha's pearls

Bruce could only part them from the other family heirlooms once you'd signed on the dotted line to be his forever, and now a Wayne in name, he couldn't think of a better way to show the world that you were his

Bruce feels much more possessive of you when you are crowded. even by one person. he doesn't want you to ever feel uncomfortable.

when you visit his offices, he meets you right away so that no one else has the chance to steal you away or talk to you. you are his and you belong to him only. you never mind, you always laugh at his intensity

"honey, who else would I be here to see?"

one time Bruce did NOT make it to you first, as you'd decided to visit his office as a surprise

one of the men from sales or some other irrelevant department - in bruce's words - had seen you standing at the mid-floor elevator, dressed in your favourite sundress and a light shawl. despite your rings, which he either hadn't spotted or plainly ignored, he had started a line of conversation about how a "pretty thing like you" seemed lost in such a place as Wayne Tower.

"Maybe I could give you a tour, and afterwards we could grab a drink?"

You had tried, politely, to decline. For more than the obvious reasons, you knew the second Bruce caught wind, this man would be made jobless, homeless, or even headless depending on his mood.

"C'mon sweets, don't be shy. I'll even tell ya a couple secrets about the big boss here. That guy's a wack job"

enter Bruce, via elevator

he sees you first, as always, and then the man who is practically breathing the same pocket of air as you

his inital response is to punch he guy's lights out

but he's not Batman here. he's Bruce Wayne. Owner of Wayne enterprises, the Prince of Gotham, and first and foremost, your husband.

you smile, relieved, as you catch Bruce's eye as he strides over to you with an sly air of confidence and a stern expression

"who's your new friend, baby?"

he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tightly into his side as you lean up to kiss the space between his cheek and jawline

Safe to say the stuttering, bumbling fool who had approached you, never set foot back in the tower

during sex, Bruce growls your name, claiming you as his, pumping into you while he reminds you; "all mine, you hear me? who do you belong to huh? who owns you? who gives you everything you deserve and more huh? that's right baby, say my name"

"bruce....fuck...i'm all yours"

that's gets him cumming every time

whenever you wear his clothes, his brain shuts down entirely, except that primal part that wants you right on his lap so he can admire you inside and out

the morning you put his shirt on for breakfast, you ended up not leaving the bedroom for 3 full days

not even Alfred deserved to see you wearing that

your pregnancy was not planned, but also not unplanned

you loved the idea of a family, a baby that looked like your husband who you could love and raise together

Bruce loved the idea that with a swollen belly, everyone would know you were his

However, Bruce was so possessive of you and your growing baby, that he'd convinced you that it would be better off to spend your pregnancy in peace

you were a goddess carrying his baby, and no one else deserved the privilege of seeing that

Bruce owns a film camera and snaps hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures to look at and admire. you take plenty of him, especially adoring the ones where his hand rests on your belly

which, let's face it, is 90% of the time

one afternoon you feel the baby kick, but bruce is in the garage setting up a car seat in each of the cars, so the only person to hear your squeals is Alfred

he rushes to the library in the north wing, where you feel most comfortable

"Mrs Wayne? Are you-"

"Alfred, it's the baby, they're kicking! feel!" you all but place his hand to the side of your belly

sure enough, Alfred feels it, before removing his hand and clearing his throat

"i shall fetch Mr Wayne at once, he will be so thrilled"

Bruce is in the library within the minute, heart racing from the excitement he feels at the opportunity to feel his baby move within you

"B, come here...feel!" you pull his large palm to your belly, and again, within a moment, a gentle kick presses against the spot of skin he has engulfed with his hand

he's about to comment when you softly whisper "they did it there for Alfred too"

Bruce blinked, moving his head away from your belly to now take a better look at you

"wh- Alfred? He felt...my child..." his brows furrow in annoyance

Safe to say, Bruce had to give himself a reality check when he feels possessive about his family over his own butler doing his job by being there for you.

"He helped me, honey. He's family too. Please don't be mad at him" you had pouted

Alfred just chuckles it off as he leaves you both in peace "Mr Bruce has always been one to keep what’s his just for him, Mrs Wayne. You and your child included."

Bruce insists on private healthcare, only the very best and most professional to keep his family safe

“Well they’ll be born in the manor, not...Gotham general” he would spit out

he watches the doctor and midwife like a hawk, frowning as you winced at the cold gel smoothed over your stomach

"Should she be shivering?" he'd asked, pointedly

"Brucie...hey, relax...they're just doing their job."

safe to say, he has a million (actually 76) questions for the doctor.

When they manage to get Bruce away from you for all of 4 minutes, they do a welfare check to ensure of your own health

"It's good to have a strong support network, especially due to the private nature of your pregnancy. Has your husband been involved? He's not worrying you, distancing himself at all?"

You could only laugh

“He’s been….clingy. A little….over-possessive…but in a sweet way. He’s so good to me, to us. We're all doing so well.”

Bruce Wayne would die for you, but in the meantime he would have you all to himself, and he would make sure that the world would comply

126 notes · View notes

honeyhenry · 3 days ago

Text

as soon as I'm done watching a movie

86K notes · View notes