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#batman fluff
nightwolf14292 · 7 hours
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Hi this is Bruce being depressed over Jason's death and lil' Tim trying to make him feel better with hugs and cuddles as kids do because we stan Bruce not being a douche to young Tim while he's grieving 😌
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confused-wanderer · 1 year
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So- uh.. Batman started journaling days when he adopted Robin because he had no idea how to handle a kid-let alone a murderous one- and was trying to note down important information like what the child likes and doesn’t, what triggers them etc etc.
He also maintains a separate series detailing their interactions with villains and notes on if the child should be allowed near the villain and vice versa along with rules to implement with children and procedures to follow in case of their meeting.
Damian has five volumes written after him, which still continue to this day. Tim’s had fifty, Stephanie’s had twenty, Jason’s had eighty nine. But Dick? Dick has a hundred and twenty, atleast fourth of those written within his first month as robin. Why?
Exhibit 1
Batman: Ivy, listen to me-
Ivy: NO Batman! They’re destroying ecosystems, hunting endangered species, poisoning the rivers and-
Robin!dick *eyes in shock* : Is this true Batman?
Batman: .. yes
Robin!dick: oh..so why aren’t we helping Miss Evie?
Ivy:
Batman:
Batman: uh..because she’s breaking the law
Robin!dick *crossing his arms* : But didn’t you say the system is flawed? And how sometimes matters need to be taken into your own hands?
Batman: Hold on-
Robin!dick: Come to think of it, is what we’re doing legal? You steal police information and beat up thugs. If you’re doing it to save lives, so is she!
Ivy *enjoying watching this stubborn child making batman sweat as he tries to argue and eventually agrees to help Ivy in a better way, giving Dick a flower when he leaves*
Bruce knows that Dick would absolutely not mind sabotaging factories or blowing up shit with a supervillain. All he needs is a good reason.
Exhibit 2
Riddler: Aha! Now.. riddle me this-
Robin!dick: .. Why are you so ugly?
Riddler: ..wha-
Robin!dick: And are you lonely because there are better ways to find friends.
Hours of insulting later
Robin!dick; If you’re so smart, tell me this: What animal roars when threatened, laughs when hungry and burrows underneath for the entire year, very dangerous to humans but a herbivore and tiny?
Riddler:
Riddler: * a few hours later, on his knees after complying with every one of batman’s demands, going hysterical and pulling out his hair while rocking back and forth*
Batman *getting increasingly concerned* Robin tell him
Robin!dick: Nope! *walks away*
Riddler spent fifty days in Arkham. The riddle still haunts him to this day. Dick doesn’t know the answer either.
Exhibit 3
Penguin *appears*
Gremlin Dick who’s been waiting to kick the shit out of someone: GOLLY BATMAN LOOK A PIÑATA!
Batman *running after Dick before he murders Penguin*
This is why none of the villains bat an eye at the bat kids antics anymore. And whatever they do, they thank their lucky stars they’re not as bad as the first one was.
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battymommastuff · 2 months
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The Greatest Show
Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily
Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City
Part 1 Masterlist
(P/N): Performer Name
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!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.
The rumbling from the red and white tent could be felt from outside. The cheers of the crowd as Haly's circus put on what they felt would be their best show yet. Everything from the elephants standing on their back legs to the clowns hitting each other with bowling pins. You were peeking from the little opening that led backstage. Many of your fellow performers were either stretching in preparation for their performance, or were relaxing after theirs. You were currently waiting alongside your two closest friends, John and Mary Grayson. The acrobatic duo who recently combined their act with yours. The stakes were higher, but it left the crowd in complete awe. You were one of the fire eaters. You were a younger member of the circus, but had quickly become a fan favorite. 
You were beautiful, and highly skilled at your art. Swallowing fire like water, and twirling torches around without burning you or anyone else. The skill you possessed was outstanding, and Haly never let you forget that. He took you in when you needed help the most, and he made you a star. You would forever be in debt to him. 
"Are you ready, (Y/N)?" Mary asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. You jumped then turned towards her. She and John had just finished their stretches and decided to check on you. From the moment you arrived, they took you under their wing. Teaching you the do's and don'ts of the circus as well as giving you a place to sleep so you didn't have to bunk with the others in their crowded space. Though you quickly earned a little tent of your own after your spike in popularity. 
"Yes, I'm alright..." You said, with a small smile, "But what about you? Should you be performing in your condition?" You asked while looking down at Mary's stomach. She was currently one month pregnant, and the entire circus doted over her. Everyone was so excited to have a new member of their family. Whoever this kid was going to be, you just knew you would love them unconditionally. Mary reassured you for the millionth time that she would be alright before she and John were ushered up a small ladder that led to the top of the tent. You, on the other hand, were standing by the curtain, waiting for Haly to announce you. 
"And now...our next performance needs no introduction...you know them...you love them! The Flying Graysons! Featuring our star Fire eater (P/N)!" 
As soon as you heard your name, you ran out. Instantly lighting your torch and twirling it around while taking a sip of alcohol. You spat the liquid at the flame causing it to poof into the air as soon as Mary did a flip in the air and caught John's arms. 
Nothing could ever satisfy that rush in your heart. The thrill of the crowd's reaction to your tricks. The high it gave you was better than any drug. Here you were, twirling two flaming torches in your hand as you watched above you. John and Mary Grayson were flying through the air. No one knew who to watch first. The couple who seemed to defy gravity, or the woman who could eat fire. Even with them in the air and you on the ground, everyone could see the chemistry you had. It's why your combined act never failed. With a big smile, you leaned back while lowering one of the torches towards your mouth. The crowd watched in awe as the fire went into your mouth. You popped your head back up with the extinguished torch in your hand. Tossing it to one of the helpers, you lifted your now free arm in the air while twirling the other torch in your hand. 
John, swooping down picked you up and you were now in the air. An act practiced hundred of times. His legs holding onto the trapeze as you both circled around the tent, the torch never falling from your hand. 
Your act was truly amazing, and it seemed to catch the eye of a certain crowd member. Bruce Wayne. Growing up, he loved to visit the circus with his parents. After their death, he avoided anything to do with it. Now he was back, but under different circumstances. For a while he'd been investigating the circus. He recently found old notes left by his father. The Court of Owls. A secret society of the Gotham elite. Their goal is to rid the city of crime, by any means. He wasn't surprised to know that his father had come in contact with them, but was surprised to see the theory that Haly's circus was a front. The members were training to be potential Talon members. The Court's lethal assassins. The circus always seemed to favor Gotham. Their stop here would last weeks while other stops would last days. Most of their members were young, and always seemed to vanish from the show after a while. He was here to find out the truth, and put a stop to it. At least he hoped he could. It was difficult to fight a conspiracy that his father barely had proof on. 
Despite his goal, he couldn't bring himself to move from his spot. You were gorgeous. He had a genuine smile on his face while watching your act. He's seen fire eaters before, but something about felt different. You didn't seem corrupt or up to no good. You looked as if you truly loved what you were doing. Maybe he could recruit you? Having inside knowledge would be beneficial. 
Your act went on, and you left the circle with loud cheers. Your heart was racing so fast, it felt like you were going to have a heart attack. John and Mary arrived shortly after with large smiles of their own, "You did amazing!" You squealed while hugging them both. You were new to the acrobatic world, but had the best teachers in the world. 
After the show ended and everyone turned in for the night, you were sitting outside of your tent. Your throat is slightly irritated from the alcohol, but nothing too bad. Luckily tomorrow was an off day for the circus. You could rest a little before practice. It was a peaceful night, and you were happy to relax in it. At least until a deep and intimidating voice nearly scared the skin off of you. 
"(Y/N) (L/N)? We need to talk."
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TAGLIST
@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa
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ynscrazylife · 5 months
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THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️
— CHAPTER TWO
Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.
Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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Having to wait until morning to pull the security cam footage from nearby stores was hell. In the meantime, Bruce filled out a missing persons report (and nearly broke down whilst doing it). The worst part of it all was having to come home, alone, and face his family.
His kids and Alfred were exactly where he left them, all in the living room.
“Where’s Mom?” Dick was the first to ask, arms crossed. Neither he nor his brothers could hide the worry flickering across his face. Not even Alfred, who was usually so composed.
“I believe,” Bruce began, wanting to be strong for them. The image of your smiling face flashed in his mind and he slammed his hand against the nearby wall to steady himself. Get it together, he told himself. The weight of your shattered phone in his pocket felt like tons of bricks. “She’s been taken.”
He hated that that was all he could say on it. That was all he knew. He hated that he had to say it at all.
Five rounds of “What?!” echoed around the room. Bruce forced himself to look at Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. At their pain. Their shock.
“I only found her phone, broken. But we will bring her home,” Bruce said, knowing that there was no keeping his children out of this investigation. “I will take the lead. I’m going to go downstairs and start working. Anyone is free to join me, but I’d also suggest trying to sleep. If you can.”
He started towards the stairs. Then, half-way there, he stopped and turned around, opening up his arms. It took a second, but the boys came to him, and Bruce tucked them in his arms with a strong, tight hug. Alfred watched for a moment, then walked around and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder.
“We will find her,” Bruce vowed.
And, he thought, if you were harmed in anyway, if a single hair was out of place, he’d destroy whoever had enough nerve to do this.
//
Standing by Commissioner Gordon’s side, Bruce peered over the employee sitting at his desk, who was starting up the footage on his computer. They found the closest store to the spot where your phone was found and as soon as the sign switched from closed to open, they walked in.
“Here you go,” the employee murmured, pressing play.
The footage was grainy and dark but with narrowed eyes, Bruce was determined to take in all that he could. As soon as you walked into frame, Bruce couldn’t help but tense up, nervous about what they were going to see.
Your pace started slowing as you took out your phone. Then, a jolt of electricity — where it was coming from was off-screen — hit your in the back. Bruce fixed his jaw, trying not to lash out or yell or even cry as he saw you fall. The thought of you, limp on the hard, dirty sidewalk . . .
Then, two figures came into frame, lean builds and wearing all black. Bruce watched how one stomped on your phone screen and he took a breath. They were saying something to each other, but the footage didn’t have audio. It was impossible to make out. He curled his fingers into a fist when they each took one of your arms, starting to drag you away. They didn’t seem to care at all that your head was bouncing off the ground and Bruce wanted to smash the screen.
He’d make them fucking pay, that was for sure.
Gordon did the talking, thanking the employee and whatnot. Bruce was in a daze, the footage playing over and over again in his head. He hadn’t even realized that Gordon wrapped up the conversation until he was pulled outside. They went a few stores down, trying to find more security camera footage of where they took you.
When they did, Gordon and Bruce watched as the kidnappers haphazardly tossed you into the car. As if you were nothing. As if you weren’t the most precious thing in Bruce’s life. He made fists again. They drove away and the one good thing was that the footage captured the license plate.
Gordon drove them to the police station and Bruce practically forced him to speed. A goddamn license plate, that was their only clue. Bruce’s only hope. He was pacing back and forth while the police actually ran the plate, never staying still for even a millisecond.
Finally, Gordon emerged. “They must’ve stolen the car. We’ll start sending patrol units out, contact other local departments . . . We will find this car. We’ll find them,” he said confidently.
//
While patrol units drove all around the city and beyond, Bruce did the same in his Batmobile. He spent every minute of every hour on the road, only returning for food and a couple hours of sleep after numerous calls from Alfred. It was the second time when he came home that he saw how much this was affecting his children. A wave of guilt hit, he knew that he hadn’t been paying as much attention to them as he should’ve.
You would’ve told Bruce to leave it to your fellow detectives, who were hellbent on getting you home. You would’ve told Bruce that he didn’t have to be Batman. He had to be home. God, you were so good, it sometimes hurt.
Bruce sat with his four boys on the couch, his arms wrapped around them. He updated them on the case, told them everything he knew. Of course, they asked to join him on patrol, but Bruce told them there was no need. He was going to take a few days off to spend with them.
It was after those few days that Bruce received a call from Gordon. They were in the middle of a somber dinner when his phone rang and the vigilante sprang up from his seat, nearly knocking his chair over. Everyone paused their eating.
“Gordon?” Bruce asked. The last few times, Gordon had nothing big to tell him, but Bruce answered his phone the same way every time.
“We got the car. It’s abandoned, but they drove out of the city. Parked near the woods.”
Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian all wanted to go search with their father, but Alfred assured Bruce that he’d have them finish their dinners. Bruce gave each one of them a kiss on the head and promised to be home at a reasonable hour (which Alfred would hold him to, bless the man) before he rushed off.
It took a little while to get to the coordinates that Gordon sent, but when he did, he found detectives and cops and even civilian-organized search parties. It warmed Bruce’s heart, how much the city adored you. They knew you as Mrs Wayne, the kind and brave detective.
He joined the search as Batman, looking high and low. He got deep into the woods when finally, he found something. A group of costumed people all looking around, some confused, some awed. Bruce could tell they didn’t belong.
“Identify yourself,” he growled, coming out of the shadows and approaching them.
They all turned to him suddenly. No one moved or said anything for a second, until a redheaded woman came forward. She looked to be around your age, maybe a couple years older.
“This is probably going to come as a shock, but please, hear me out,” the woman began.
“I don’t ‘hear’ people out. Identify yourself, now,” Bruce demanded, in no mood for games.
The woman sighed softly. “Fine. You can call me te Black Widow. Back home, I — we — are known as the Avengers. We’re looking for someone named Y/N,” she told him.
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kimberly-spirits13 · 6 months
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How Bruce Wayne Is On Your Period
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This is really just meant to make me feel better tbh- lol kill me
He won't tell you, but he knows that it's starting 
like come on- the mood swings are terrible, you get more violent on patrol (you put Joker in the hospital for a few days), you're quicker to be snide towards shady business partners, you cried when you dropped a cracker and then went right back to normal, like seriously 
When you start to get bad PMS symptoms, you don't do patrol for the week
It's hard to control feelings, thoughts, and painful cramps while fighting crime
You're basically on probation from patrol
You and Alfred make a lot of food (or Alfred makes it happily and you devour it)
Bruce tries not to stay away during patrol for too long since you start to worry about him and he really, really worries about you when you're not feeling well
He makes sure to bring home lots and lots and lots of chocolate and meds if that's what you need
Goes to your favorite bakery and gets a massive amount of whatever you want 
Makes sure that you get plenty of water
like all the water because it helps so much 
Is totally fine with you raiding his closet for any sweatpants and massive t shirts
doesn't care if there's blood anywhere or if you ruin a set of sheets
he's a billionaire, it's not a loss 
he makes sure you aren't uncomfortable or if you need space, that you have it but you know that he's there when you need 
Sometimes being around guys when you're on your period is gross and idk why it's just like ugh get away from me you trash bag 
speaking of trash bags, if anything grosses you out or starts to make you feel icky (even if it usually doesn't), he totally removes it from your presence 
for me, it's cheese and weird or strong smelling things 
or anything that looks slimy or too rough *bleh*
If you're ever feeling bloated or just really really gross, Bruce is the hype man
"no gorgeous, you're stunning, exquisite, perfect, amazing, I'm in the presence of an angel babe." he'll spin you around and press kisses all over you 
"No, don't say that about yourself, you're so pretty, you're not gross."
I mean he's like this all the time, but he'd definitely play way way into it if you're feeling down
If you're married and wearing a wedding ring, he gets the ring custom made to be adjustable incase you fingers swell 
I can see you expressing something nasty about yourself like that you hate a scar or you feel like you're stupid or something and he'll start crying when you start crying 
like don't say that dude it's not nice to yourself 
You feel like a sweaty hog because your body is pushing out blood and tissue 
you're going into mini labour, leave yourself alone
When you can't sleep, he pulls you very tightly into him and plays with your hair 
braids it into a hundred tiny braids or brushes it 
anything that relaxes you
you probably have a treasure trove of comfort movies and tv shows and if you can't sleep or just want to watch something, he'll happily stay up with blankets wrapped around the two of you and watch whatever
rubs your back and makes sure that you're taking pain medicine every few hours to stay in your system 
sometimes when he's working in the cave and you're lonely but not feeling good, you'll wrap yourself in a large blanket and sit on his lap, head against his chest while he works
He thinks you're like a cat and finds it adorable 
You basically turn into a cat for a week and maybe some change and he finds it very very funny
makes sure that there are no galas or any meetings that you have to deal with
plans events and meetings around your periods to make sure that when you're on it, you don't have to deal with high society because they make anyone's blood boil (no pun intended)
When you get mad or start crying, he doesn't take it personally at all and just lets you get it out
sometimes laying in the fetal position for a few hours and falling asleep is the best thing that can happen for periods and he will happily cuddle you the entire time, even if it's not the optimal position for cuddling 
he tries to stay as neutral as possible on subjects when you're on your period so that you don't kill someone because he seemed equally as unhappy 
trust me, period mood swings are incapacitating, it's not a snarky thing, it's just so so sosososoososososoooooooo bad
please don't talk to me when I'm in my mood swing phase, I'll accidentally insult you and then cry about it later or decide never to talk to you again 
Local villains will not pull insane shenanigans while you're on you're period because they're terrified 
Terrified. 
if batman has to call in the calvary, its the calvary call out of hell
You're busting skulls and taking names the entire time 
Bruce is scared, the villain is scared, everyone is terrified of this blood thirsty being that wants everyone to be in as much pain as they are
Bruce knows that the world is insufferable and being super hormonal and feeling disgusting and being in pain doesn't help ignoring that fact, or even just living with it
He just wants you to feel better 
Bruce gets sad when you don't feel well 😂
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devilfic · 11 months
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sleeping headcanons about bruce/reader… need to see that man rest, or like blink for more than a second
you are so real for this
bruce would be the type of boyfriend/husband that HAS to sleep closest to the door. like if the door is facing one side of the bed, that's the side he always sleeps on. same with windows. it helps him sleep knowing that if someone were to break in, they'd have to go through him before they got to you
does not EVER wear a full set of pajamas. hasn't worn them since alfred stopped trying to force him into the little silk pjs he had as a child
he has three looks for bed: oversized band tee + ratty pajama pants, shirtless + ratty pajama pants, or briefs. just the briefs
when his hair is long, he keeps a few hair ties on his wrist to tie it up when he's washing his face before bed
("wash" is generous... he's splashing his face with cold water)
when his hair is short, he does not bother keeping it out of his face. he comes out of the bathroom with his hair dripping down his forehead and you buy him one of those cute fluffy headbands for him to use
bonus points if you get him a sanrio headband
bonus bonus points if you get him one with kuromi on it like THIS and you get a matching my melody one
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he's a super light sleeper, like you could slip out of bed to use the bathroom and you'll hear him suck in a breath like "everything ok?"
this also makes him a little restless on really bad stormy nights :((
he refuses to wear earplugs or a sleeping mask because he gets very worried about being at a disadvantage in case something happens
the best you can do for him is let him curl up to your chest and let him get caught up in your heartbeat instead
him being a light sleeper also means he randomly wakes up throughout the night as soon as he has to use the toilet or gets a craving for something to eat, so be prepared for him to move around quite a bit
when he actually IS asleep tho, he does not move at all
he also doesn't naturally cuddle when he's sleepy unless he's cold, he usually is the one being cuddled
sleeptalks
this happens more often when he's got a lot on his mind (so all the time) and you'll usually hear him saying random, incoherent sentences or calling out names
it actually really embarrasses him when you tell him he does this because alfred and his roommates at boarding school used to comment on it when he was younger and he just assumed he'd grown out of it but. let's be honest. he hasn't slept with another person in the same room for years. don't know why he came to that conclusion
it's also a little rare when you catch it because he tends to fall asleep only after you do
you catch it more in the morning when he's sleeping off a long night of batmanning
it's best not to tell him if he's said anything embarrassing,,, it will literally keep him up all night
it gets a little worse when he has nightmares. you can hear him calling out joker or the riddler's name seconds before he wakes up in a cold sweat
you don't tell him exactly what you hear, but you always ask if he's ok and if he'd like to head back to bed with you or not
since he was raised by Real Brit Alfred Pennyworth, alfred did sort of imprint upon him a tea addiction
there's one particular blend that alfred swears used to put bruce out like a light when he was sick so you make that for him when he's particularly stressed and it always works wonders
speaking of him being sick. he is a COMPLETELY different sleeper when he's sick
sleeps like the dead, snores LOUDLY, cuddles like crazy
it's actually the worst because he'll be so happy to pull you in and lay his head on your shoulder but then. he drools. and the. snot. the snot.....
you can imagine that whenever he's sick, you may as well be sick too
he does have the decency to wait until you start sneezing before he gives you a nasty little cough syrup-flavored kiss like the disgusting germ gremlin he is
he won't complain about feeling bad but he will sometimes have a little delirious moment where he'll be all cute and beg you to come to bed with him because he can't sleep if you're not there next to him
like you may go sleep in one of the guest rooms until his cold passes and you'll wake up to him curled up on the loveseat on the other side of the room or even just straight up laying across the foot of the bed so he won't accidentally cough in your face
it's hard to get him to fall asleep but sometimes he pushes himself to such an extreme limit that he accidentally falls asleep anywhere
in the cave? he's passed out on his desk
working on his car? takes a quick little power nap under the engine
in the middle of a business meeting? nodding off in the chair
has fallen asleep on the floor on the WAY to bed before and when you wake him up he doesn't even realize that he never actually got there
also slipping this in here for indulgence purposes but if you've adopted dick, dick will fall asleep on bruce anywhere
like he'll see bruce conked out on the couch like a dad who insists on getting up at the ass crack of dawn and just scooch on in and fall asleep on his shoulder
even FURTHER, if you guys adopt ace, he will nap on dick
the three of them can regularly be seen napping all over the place as the years go on. thank god your bed is big enough for all four of you
having dick and the dog actually makes bruce sleep more and also more soundly because when they're sleeping on top of him it's like a weighted blanket. like if a cat fell asleep in ur lap u wouldn't get up would you? you would simply sit there and rot. same thing with bruce
last thought but I also think as bruce gets older, he's going to fall asleep more often and that will result in a lot of conversations that go like this
bruce: that was a good movie
you: you fell asleep halfway through
bruce: I was resting my eyes
you: I paused the movie and you didn't even react
bruce: I was watching the movie
you: so who died at the end?
bruce: the villain
you: no one died at the end!!! we were watching paddington 2!!!!
but also somehow hears you if you make fun of him in his vicinity. you put a phone in this man's face to take a picture of him sleeping and when you go to look at the photo you see his eyes open like this
jumpscare warning: robert
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taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat
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ciaraswritings · 4 months
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Gossip and Galas
Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.
Warnings & Topics: Alcohol, derogatory language, crowds, sexual references, comfort. 18+.
Word Count: 1.9K words
Summary: Shortly after her engagement to Bruce Wayne, fem!reader is met with the gossip that comes with it at one of his charity galas.
Author's Note: Finally made a masterlist, so go ahead and check that out for more fluffy stories like this. Comforting fics like this are just what I like for winter weather. I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday season, and I hope you enjoy.
My bracelets clinked against each other on my wrist, sliding down my arm as I lifted my hand to brush back my hair, my focus never leaving the man whose arm I was grasping. He stood tall, the suit looking almost small on his frame, smiling politely while he escorted me into the ballroom. This year’s charity gala was quite full, very few people had sent their regrets. The champagne gown that hung over my body glittered, matching the diamond jewelry framing my face.
One diamond I kept hidden in my fiance's arm, dodging the prying eyes full of curiosity. Everyone wanted to see the size of the rock he had placed on my finger, desperate to be the first to share the flaming news. He had only proposed a week before, and it had hit the news almost overnight. Now, it was a free-for-all to see who could get the inside scoop first.
Breaking through my thoughts, he tilted his head downwards to hum, “Did I tell you that you look stunning tonight?” 
His comment pulled a smile out of my peach-tinted lips. “You’ve said that six times.”
“Then let me say it a seventh time, you look absolutely stunning.” With the gentlest touch, he placed his hand over my arm in a comforting gesture. The affection made me forget everything for a moment, before the inevitable began. 
Guests from all directions began to approach us, important names from all over Gotham, curious voices disguised with polite words. His smile opened ten different conversations at once, and I contented myself with the image of a silent trophy wife. Naturally, I had plenty to say, many words I wanted to make heard, but this was neither the time nor the place. 
As I moved my left hand away from Bruce’s arm to brush away a strand of hair from my face, someone caught it in a tight grip. 
“What a beautiful ring this is! What a size! Your finger is going to get tired of wearing that…” My hand was immediately surrounded by a group of five or six women, all peering down at the newly acquired engagement ring. My natural reaction was to jerk my hand back, but as I did, I was met with disapproving and disheartening looks from the curious viewers. I slowly let my hand slide back into place, allowing them to inspect with judgemental astonishment. 
I turned my head back to Bruce in a silent plea for rescue, but he was occupied with a champagne glass in his hand and several well-dressed gentlemen holding his attention. Now a small crowd was gathered around my hand, many pairs of eyes leering. Using my sweetest smile, I was slowly able to pry free from the spectators and rejoin my fiance in the moment. The moment didn’t last very long. 
As more and more people moved past, my lips became a straighter and straighter line. When Bruce noticed that my grip on his arm was becoming a little too tight for comfort, he turned to me with a whisper. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, can we… start walking?” I turned my head in the direction of the bar. 
“Of course.” He gently guided me in the alluring direction of sparkling wine glasses, leaving a small trail of party-goers behind us. 
Several exchanged words later between the bartender, and he placed a glass of wine in my hand, which I began to sip instantly. “Sorry I’m getting so uptight, I always think I’m going to handle parties better than I do.” 
“It’s okay. Don’t think twice about it.” He placed a kiss on my cheek before eyeing another group of guests walking towards us with conversation topics written all over their faces. “Do you mind?”
“No, no, of course not. Go on, have fun.” My smile was fake, but my love was real. I watched him move off into the crowd, entertaining the many who were trying to catch his eye. He was going to have a good time, socialize, and later tonight I’d get all his attention.
I moved into a corner, next to a large, decorative ivory pillar where I could ease my tension and finish my glass of wine. I watched another party of women moving past me, their stares nearly piercing my left hand. Quickly, I shifted my glass into my right hand and put my left behind my back. Not only did I feel judged, I felt ridiculous. Tonight I was supposed to be the princess on the arm of my prince, ravishing in the glory of the spotlight.
It didn’t feel like glory, and I didn’t feel glorious. I didn’t want to be on his arm right now. As exciting as it was to be nearly royal for a night, after all the comments, whispers, and questions, I felt used, almost dirty. Tonight I’d been called many things in overheard conversation. So far I could mark gold-digger, leech, and other appealing titles off the list.
As I took a rather embarrassing gulp of my wine, I could hear feminine voices moving closer on the other side of the pillar. I turned my head, ready to move to a more secluded spot, before I caught a snippet of their conversation. When I heard my name, I sucked in my stomach, trying to disappear behind the stone to eavesdrop. 
“Did you see how vain she looked on his arm? I can’t believe how proud she is.”
“Especially after he probably pulled her out of the gutter. Who knows how many rich, brainless guys she’s played around with.” 
“You know she’s just waiting to sink her teeth into that divorce settlement.”
“Can you believe he’s so dense that he’d buy her such a huge ring? Somebody’s gotta tell him before she runs away with the next moneybag that smiles at her.”
“He’ll definitely be single in a few months. Don’t worry, Liv, you’ll get your shot with him.”
“Where’d she even come from?”
“Streets, no doubt.”
“You know, that’s probably why he’s with her! He hired her and then…”
“He fell for her the first time she gave him head.”
“Girls like her…”
“I know. What a slut.”
Gold-digger I could handle. Leech hurt, but it was fine. Slut was a cut I couldn’t manage right now. Maybe if my social energy wasn't gone, I might’ve appeared from behind the pillar looking like a goddess and given them a smart remark that would leave their glossed mouths gaping and their confidence rattled.
But that wasn’t where I was at right now. 
Instead I was back at the bar, fleeing their snickers and giggles, asking the bartender to hand over another bottle of Cabernet and to not ask questions. With the bottle tucked safely under my arm and the stem of a wine glass between my fingers, I fled to the safety of the private quarters of the manor. Before I ascended the first flight of stairs, I kicked off my heels, letting them lay where they landed on the floor. My feet immediately felt relief even while climbing flight after flight of stairs till I reached the master bedroom Bruce and I had come to share. 
Realizing I had no corkscrew with me, I glared down at the bottle, calculating the quickest way to open it. I don’t need all my teeth, I thought to myself. Before I could get a chance to pry out the cork, the bedroom door opened behind me, startling me. I whipped around, my heart racing, feeling guilty for abandoning the gala and running away to drink alcohol.
“Thought you might need this.” Bruce stood in the doorway with a corkscrew, his face riddled with concern and a bit of amusement. 
“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” I ordered, marching to him and taking it from his hand. “And don’t act like you don’t have a thousand people downstairs asking for you. Duty calls.” I tried to shoo him away with my hand before he caught my wrist and pressed a kiss to my palm.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I saw your face when you left.”
“Go away, I have a date with a wine glass. I’ll tell you later.”
“(Y/N).” He calmly ushered me away from the door and sat me on the foot of the bed.
“I heard some… people… saying… things… about me.” I managed to get out. 
“Which people? I’ll have them removed right now. What did they say?” His fingers brushed away loose hair that hung in front of my face.
“Nothing. I don’t want to think about it. Let me just…” I looked at him and then at the waiting bottle of Cabernet. 
“Absolutely, want some company?”
Yes. “No, it’s okay. You need to get back.”
“No, I don’t.” 
“Yes, you do! The gala has two more hours to run!” 
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll go next year.”
“Right. I’m serious, you’re going to be missed.”
“I’d rather be missed by them than by you.” His eyes glared into mine with stubborn insistence. I sighed.
“I’m not getting rid of you, am I?” 
“Not at all.”
“...Okay.”
Bruce grinned triumphantly before making his way to the cabinet in the corner of the room and retrieving another wine glass. When he returned, his arm automatically wrapped around my waist. “Tell me what they said about you.”
“It’s not worth it,” I replied, finally managing to open the bottle of wine.
“Allow me,” Bruce took the bottle from my hand to pour both our glasses and pressed a kiss behind my ear. “You’re going to tell me after you finish this glass anyway, might as well tell me now.” 
My glare wasn’t enough to deter him from his quest for an answer. “They said you pulled me from the streets, and that I was a slut, and I was going to divorce you and run away with somebody else…” 
“But that’s not true, is it?” He caught my chin with his fingers and tilted it upwards, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I didn’t find you on the streets, I found you doing what you’re best at, working hard and making a career for yourself. I can’t think of a more admirable thing you could be doing.” 
I smiled at the flashback to when we had crossed paths in a business meeting. “Mhm.”
“If anything, I don’t deserve you. Not only are you beautiful, you complete me. You make me better.” 
My eyes closed as he pressed a very passionate, loving kiss to my lips. His hand rested on my waist, stroking with his thumb, sending tingles up my spine. When my eyes opened again, he was smiling. I couldn’t help but do the same. “Okay. Thank you for… all of this. Leaving the party for me.”
“You will always come first. What else did they say?”
“They said you fell in love with me the first time I gave you head.” 
He tilted his head, pretending to ponder the statement. “Well…”
Laughing, I gently shoved his shoulder. “Bruce!” 
“Okay, okay.” 
Below, the party-goers searched for us, but we didn’t return. The feeling was transforming, suddenly I felt like the most important and beautiful woman in the world. His world. There, with him, I started to feel myself not care what they said about me or what names they came up with. Here, I was just his. And that was enough.
440 notes · View notes
bizbat · 3 months
Text
All Wrapped up
~ Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader
~ Explicit smut
~ Reader is alluded to be smaller than Bruce, but appearance is otherwise not described
~ Reader wears a dress and makeup
~ Partially based on these headcanons
~ You can find more of my works here
~ Wc: 3.6k
C/W: Smut, PiV penetration, Mdom, Healthy Dom/Sub dynamics (consent checks, aftercare, establishment of a safeword, etc.), Bondage, Oral (male & female receiving), Finger sucking, Fingering, Slight slapping, Spit, Face fucking, Slight humiliation, Praise and degradation, Pet names (Angel, Pretty, Baby, Girl/Good girl, Sir, Slut), Dacryphilia, Pussy job, Cervix fucking, Mating press, Slight Breeding, Creampie, Size difference
~ It's the holiday season, and what could be a better gift than you, all wrapped up in a pretty, red ribbon?
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Bruce found himself collapsing into a plush chair, massaging his temples as he stared down into the crowd from his position on the balcony. He tugged at the neck of his fluffy, green, turtle neck, the one his wife, Y/n had begged him to wear. Apparently, they matched, as she was dressed in a gorgeous gown with a red, corseted bodice, and a flowing, green, tulle skirt.
As if sensing his dismay, Y/n climbed up the staircase leading to the balcony Bruce was hiding away on, her heels clicking against the marble floor alerting him of her presence. He didn't look up as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, the smell of her expensive perfume flooding his nose as she hugged him. He looked at her over his shoulder as she pulled away, taking in her appearance.
She looked perfect. He hair was curled and artfully pinned atop her head with ribbons, the bodice of her gown was tailored to her exactly, pushing her breasts up and together. It drew attention to her necklace that accentuated her neck, the gold bejeweled with bright red rubies that flattered her skin tone.
Y/n stroked Bruce's cheek with a gloved hand, a big, warm smile decorating her face as she kissed the tip of his nose, a smudge of lipgloss left in her wake. She giggled as he wiped it away with a cloth napkin on the table. Though, her smile dimmed a bit when she noticed the less than happy expression on her husband's face.
"I . . ." She looked down at the crowd of people over the balcony, people of all classes eating, drinking, and dancing together in the Wayne Manor ballroom. She had begged Bruce to throw a Christmas Gala, to have an open invitation so that it would be available to everyone, and not just the famous and wealthy, though now she could see that it really was begging to wear him down.
She ran her fingers through his hair, the perfectly slicked locks now wild from him running his hands through his hair multiple times. "Thank you, Bruce." She whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "I know you don't usually like these things, and you really didn't-"
"I wanted to." He cut her off as she began to ramble, a pout on her painted lips. "It's my gift." He stroked her chin with his thumb. "As long as you enjoy yourself, then I'll be happy."
Y/n nodded, though not fully convinced. Bruce hated galas, and parties, or public events of any kind, and he sacrificed valuable time so he could attend, and not just leave his wife to host it on her own. Y/n pressed her forehead to his once again, before hearing someone call her name from below. She turned to Bruce, who gave her his best reassuring smile, before quickly leaving his line of sight amongst the partygoers.
Bruce didn't see her the rest of the night, not even when the event came to an end and everyone began pouring out of the manor, gifts in hand. He had asked Alfred if he had seen her, but it seems the old man was just as clueless to her whereabouts as he was. Bruce tried not to think about all of the situations she could be in, his headache from earlier quickly worsening with every moment.
He was finally able to escape to his and Y/n's shared room once Damian and Duke were snug in bed, and the rest of his children were home for the night. He was still worried about her, though, as it was soon replaced with relief. And then, with arousal.
He found Y/n on their bed, her arms and legs constrained with a single red ribbon. In her mouth was another ribbon, preventing her from speaking as Bruce locked the door behind him, and traversed beside her on the bed, all while never taking his eyes off her. He chuckled to himself as he stroked her head, his eyes trailing her restrained figure.
"What is this, huh? Is this my gift?" Y/n nodded, her eyes wide as she stared up at Bruce's imposing figure, looming over her from the bedside. Bruce's fingers ghosted down her cheek before brushing against her lips, her lip gloss smudged and partially removed from the cloth ribbon between her teeth. He tugged the ribbon out of her mouth, replacing the fabric gag with his thumb.
His pants tightened as he watched her suck on his thumb without prompting. "Good girl," He cooed. "Such an obedient little slut for me." Y/n nodded around his finger, her eyes never leaving his as she circled his thumb with her tongue, hollowing her cheeks around the appendage.
Bruce pulled his thumb from her mouth, a string of spit connecting it to her tongue as she briefly chased after it. "You gonna be my good girl? Gonna use your words?" Bruce stroked Y/n's heir, the ribbons from earlier now absent. "Yes sir." She said, her eyes glossy and her cheeks and ears on fire. "Gonna be good. Gonna be your good girl."
"Then stick out your tongue for me, baby." Bruce commanded, leaning down and enveloping it in his own mouth when she immediately followed his orders. He palmed his stiffening cock through his pants. He hissed as he pulled away, unzipping his green pants and sliding them down just far enough to take his cock out.
He pumped his shaft to full firmness as he practically glared down at Y/n, watching as she bit her glossy lip in anticipation. He watched her squirm in her bindings, the red ribbon decorating her barse skin. It tied her wrists together in front of her, going down and tieing her knees and ankles as well.
Bruce groaned as he jerked himself off in front of his wife. "You gonna suck my cock pretty girl? Gonna make me feel good?" Y/n bit her lip so hard Bruce worried she might draw blood, as she rapidly nodded her head. Bruce brough his free hand down upon Y/n's cheek, just hard enough to sting. "Use your words, girl." He lightly squeezed her cheeks as he made her look at him.
"I wanna suck your cock, sir!" She wriggled around in her binding, her cunt growing slick as Bruce teased her with his cock. He smiled, brushing his thumb against his head, swiping off a bead of precum and pushing it between her lips.
He bit his own lip as Y/n tasted him. "That's it . . . that's my good fucking girl." Bruce straddled Y/n's chest, kneeling over her as he pressed his cock to her swollen lips. She opened her mouth wide for Bruce, sticking out her tongue as she waited for his permission.
Bruce rested his tip against her tongue, thrusting his hips lightly as pearls of his precum spread across her muscle, before pushing further into Y/n's mouth. He paused when she started to choke on his length, even though was only about halfway in. "Breath, baby. You can take it."
He grunted as she swallowed him deeper, breathing through her nose. "That's it . . . That's it."He held back her hair so he could see her entire face. "Just like that." He groaned, the warmth of her mouth sending a shiver run up his spine.
He continued to mumble praises as she took him deeper and deeper down her throat, his hips thrusting in front of her face. He began to increase his pace, his ears burning as the sound of his wife gagging on his cock filled the room.
Bruce held Y/n's head still as he fucked her throat, spit dripping down her chin and pooling across her chest, glossing her tits and slicking her lips. He grunted as his muscles tightened, a sign of his impending orgasm.
He pulled out of Y/n's mouth, rapidly pumping his shaft before thick, white spurts of his creamy cum landed on her face and waiting tongue. "Don't." He warned when he saw her begin retracting her cum covered tongue back into her mouth.
Y/n's face was on fire, humiliation coursing through her veins as the cum mixed with the excess saliva on her tongue and began to drip down onto her and chest. She whined, pleading for Bruce to let her swallow. "What do you want, angel?" He lightly tapped her cheek, reminding her to speak. "You said you were gonna be good. I can't do anything unless you tell me what you want."
"Wan'-" She huffed, trying to speak with her tongue sticking out. "Wanna swallow. Wanna swallow your cum, sir." It was unclear, but Bruce deciphered her words, laughing at her as she shivered, pleading with wide, tear-struck eyes. "Just stay there a little longer baby," he panted, stroking her hair. "I wanna get a good look at you like this."
She looked even better like this, her hair messy from laying against the pillows, her hardened nipples showing through the soaked, red ribbon that laid across her chest. Bruce bit his lip and groaned, his cock still painfully hard.
Y/n's thighs rubbed together in an attempt to stimulate her neglected heat. "Bruce," she whined, drool and cum seeping across her body the longer her tongue was out. "Please sir . . . please let me swallow." Bruce reached a hand down between her thighs, his fingers just barely brushing against her cunt.
"There's my good girl. Go ahead, baby, since you asked so nicely."
Y/n pulled her tongue back into her mouth, savoring the taste of the cum that hadn't slipped off her tongue and onto her tits. Bruce pressed firmly on her clit, circling it with broad, slow circles. Y/n whined again, pleading for him to increase his speed. Bruce, tired of her misbehavior, lightly slapped her clit. "Last warning. Either take what I give you, or use your fucking words."
Bruce hovered his hand over her mound, threatening to smack her again should she continue to misbehave. "I-I'm s-sorry sir, I'll be good!" Bruce thought for a moment. "Come to think of it . . . maybe you don't even deserve to cum, huh? Maybe I should just fuck your mouth and not your pretty pussy, leave you squirming, all tied up so you can't touch yourself."
"Is that what you fucking want?" Bruce stroked her lower lips, teasing her by not touching her clit. "No sir!" Y/n furiously shook her head, flexing her hips to try and get Bruce to properly touch her. "I wanna cum! I want you to fuck my pussy, sir! Please!" Bruce leaned down, his forehead pressed against her own. "Then be good."
He punctuated his sentence with a final smack to her clit, rubbing rapid circles against her pearl before she could react. Bruce watched her face, stray tears slipping down her cheeks as her mouth hung open. "How's that feel, baby? Am I making you feel good?" Y/n thrashed in her bindings, rutting her hips against Bruce's skilled hand.
"Ngh~ Feels good, sir! Feels so good!" Y/n huffed, panting as Bruce brought her closer and closer to her first orgasm of the night. Bruce smirked, his pressure and speed increasing ever so slightly, just enough to bring his wife to the brink of climax. Sensing her orgasm, Bruce leaned forwards, catching her lips with his own as his fingers finally pushed Y/n over the edge, never slowing down as he helped her ride out her orgasm.
Once he felt her juices leak Bruce ripped down the red velvet that his her soft mounds from his sight, leaving the ribbon tying her wrists together, doing the same for her legs, untying her knees but leaving her ankles as her pushed her legs apart. He pushed in two long, thick fingers, curling them against that spongy spot inside of Y/n, and watching her every slight reaction.
"Sir, please! I'll be good! I'll be good, just, please!" Y/n begged, her legs spread wide for Bruce, his palm rubbing her clit as his fingers skillfully thrust in and out of her warm, slick walls. "Please what, pretty? What do you need?" Bruce grunted as he kneeled above her, one hand between her thighs, one hand gripping the wooden headboard, the wood lightly splintering from his tight grip.
"I need your cock, sir! Please fuck me already!" Bruce chuckled, feeling her heat squeeze around his fingers. "You want my cock? You want me to fuck you like the little slut you are?" The sound of his palm slapping against Y/n's clit as he finger fucked her filled the room. The sound of Y/n's desperate huffs and moans was like music to his ears, the tears streaming down her face more beautiful than any original in his gallery.
A desperate "Yes sir!" slipping past her lips without her even having to think about it. Bruce smirked, continuing to finger her as he moved his thumb to circle her aching, neglected clit. "Almost pretty, almost. Wanna taste you first." Bruce released the headboard, holding both of her wrists in one, large hand. "Can you be patient for me, baby? Let me taste you?"
Bruce somehow further increased his pace, loud squelches echoing in the large room. "Fuck!" He groaned, feeling Y/n tighten around his fingers once again as she rapidly approached her second orgasm. "Come on, baby! Let me fucking taste you." He continued thrusting his fingers for a few more moments, quickly pulling them out when Y/n whimpered out a "yes, sir".
He let go of her wrists, ripping off his sweat soaked sweater as he moved to lay on his stomach between Y/n's legs. He flattened his tongue, licking a long, firm stripe up her soaking wet cunt. He wrapped his laps around her clit, sucking her nub before releasing with a wet 'pop'.
He lifted her thighs, shoving his tongue into her hole as deep as possible, before replacing it with his fingers. He carefully thrusted his fingers in and out as he returned to sucking her clit, curling them against her g spot as he listened to her moans and cries, the strong suction throwing her over the edge.
He didn't stop as more of her juices coated his chin and fingers, leaking down and soaking the sheets beneath her. He licked up as much of her essence as possible as she eventually came down from her high. Once he was finished, Bruce rose back up on his hands, capturing Y/n's lips with his, letting her taste her own juices on his tongue.
She moaned into his mouth, chasing after him when he inevitably pulled away from her. He shoved his pants down the rest of the way, kicking them across the room, before hovering over Y/n once again, pinning her wrists above her head as he lined his cock up with her hole.
"You want it, baby? You want me to fuck you?" Y/n pulled her lip between her teeth, her eyes magnetized to the space between the two of them. She nodded, whining when Bruce thrusted his cock against her, rather than inside her, selfishly using her slick mound to get himself off. "Look at me," Bruce gave her no time to comply, grabbing her face again as he forced her to keep her eyes on him, his cockhead catching on her clit as he thrust his hips.
"I need a yes or a no, pretty." "Yes!" Y/n's teeth released her lower lip, as she shouted, her skin swollen from the biting and kissing. "Yes, sir! Please, I want it! I want you to fuck me!"
Bruce lined himself back up with her pussy, smirking at her desperate tone as he prepared to penetrate her. "S'all you had to say, baby . . ." Without further warning he thrust his cock inside of her, stilling when he felt her tight walls begin resisting him. He threw his head back, a guttural groan escaping him as he entered his wife's tight walls.
"Shit, baby," He groaned, panting above his wife's body. He grabbed her wrists again, holding them above her head as he slowly began fucking deeper, her hole accepting him little by little, stilling again once he was fully inside her.
"Bruce . . ." Y/n whined, wiggling her hips. "Please, sir, want you to move." Bruce shallowly pumped his hips, his cock brushing against her puckered cervix. He looked down at her face, holding back a laugh when she wriggled and squirmed in his hold. "Sir, please!" She sobbed.
"All right, all right. No more teasing. You remember the word?" Y/n nodded, though, she quickly corrected herself. "Yes, sir, I remember." Bruce leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to her sweaty hearline. "There's my good little slut. M' gonna move now, okay?" He stroked one of her wrists with his thumb. "O-okay," Y/n warbled out, her head rolling forward at the feeling of being stuffed with Bruce's cock.
Bruce pulled his hips away, till only his tip remained inside, before slamming his hips forwards, stealing Y/n's breath from her lungs. His hips pounded hers, the sound of their love a beautiful cacophony that overwhelmed both of their senses. "How's that, baby? That feel good?" Y'n didn't respond, her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling of Bruce's bruising thrusts.
He decided to be nice, continuing his firm movements, encouraged by the little gasps and moans that subconsciously escaped his wife. He made no effort to hold back his own noises, grunting and groaning as he pushed Y/n's knees to her chest, hitting deeper than what would be thought possible.
Bruce held her legs down with one hand, resting some of his weight on her as he continued to fuck her deeply, gripping the headboard again to give himself more leverage. Y/n pressed her hands to his chest, her fingernails digging into his skin. She needed something to keep her tethered to the world as he fucked her. She sobbed whenever he hit a certain spot, and Bruce made sure to brush against it with every thrust.
"That's it, baby! Take it just like that!" He grunted, his strokes firm, yet perfectly angled to hit her sweet spot. He groaned, his hand on the headboard shooting down to rub Y/n's clit again. He felt his own orgasm creeping ever closer as she squeezed his length. "Gonna cum on my cock, huh? Gonna cum on this fucking cock?"
At this point he was talking more to himself, as Y/n was very clearly not entirely all there, drool dripping down the side of her gaping mouth, and her eyes rolled all the way back into her skull. "You're such a perfect little slut for me. Oh, take it, baby."
The wooden headboard slammed against the wall at the force of his thrusts, and if he was less consumed with his wife's tight, wet flesh, he'd be more thankful that he'd had all of the rooms in the manor soundproofed. Nevertheless, he groaned, his blood running hot as he felt Y/n dig her nails into his skin, deep enough to leave angry, red crescents.
"That's it, that's it, that's it," He chanted, his fingers slicked with Y/n's juices as he circled her clit. "That's it, baby, cum on my cock!" Y/n sobbed, juices gushing around Bruce's cock as her walls gripped him, almost refusing to let him pull out, not that he wanted to. Part of this gift was going to be the feeling of his wife's warm pussy as he came inside her.
He wasn't too far behind her, the muscles in his thighs and calves tightening as he fucked Y/n's cervix, his cock twitching inside her as hot, white cum gushed out around his shaft. He slowly fucked Y/n, his thrusts becoming shallow as he cahased his high. He let her legs drop, massaging them as the blood slowly started to return.
Once he caught his breath, he pulled the bow tying her wrists together, raising his hand to her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as he once again rested his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a moment. "How . . ." he cleared his throat, his voice slightly hoarse.
"How do you feel? Are you hurt anywhere?" He slid his fingers into Y/n's hair, gently massaging her scalp as he spoke. In turn, she ran her hands across his chest and shoulders, massaging his traps. "No," Y/n shook her head. "I feel good. How about you, how do you feel?" Bruce dropped his head to rest in the crook between her neck and shoulder, kissing her sensitive skin.
"Mm," He ran his hand over her side, inhaling her natural scent. "Good." Y/n smiled, wrapping her arms around Bruce's shoulders and pulling him down, encouraging him to relax and drop his weight. He did just that, though, he still held himself up with his elbows, careful not to crush his wife.
He dug one arm under her, scooping her up and rolling over to his side, so she was laid across his chest. She giggled, resting her head against her husband's strong body. "Did you enjoy your gift?" She looked up at him with warm eyes and a tired smile.
"I did," Bruce smiled down at her, his expression mirroring hers. "Did you?" She leaned up, pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "I loved it." She whispered, her throat a bit sore. Nothing some tea with honey and lemon couldn't fix in the morning. "Wanna take a bath?" Bruce asked, stroking Y/n's bare shoulder as she sleepily drew circles on his chest. "In a minute."
Bruce nodded, exhaustion overtaking his massive frame. He played with his wife's hair as she drifted into slumber on his chest. He basked in the glow of their love, a warm, sappy feeling swirling around inside him and squeezing his heart. He would wake her later, letting her sleep peacefully, for now.
399 notes · View notes
ladyofhellhounds · 7 months
Note
Do you have any random headcanons for dating Bruce Wayne (specifically Christian Bale)? Personally, I have a headcanon that he would constantly send his gf flowers. I feel like he would never give her flowers in person, but he would constantly have them delivered to her office (or wherever she works).
Dating Bruce Wayne HCs
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(not my gif)
Requested: well, yeah
Warnings: i don't think so
A/N: Apparently it takes me ages to answer and write a request, sorry about that
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We all know he can be a complicated person
I think he's really cheesy when he's alone with his girlfriend
He is super funny and goofy even if he doesn't seem like it
Bruce constantly needs to be reassured that he is a good person and boyfriend
Mr. Wayne takes advantage of being the owner of Wayne Enterprises in order to leave early and see his girlfriend
Likes to surprise you by picking you up from work
Loves movie nights where the two of you are just cuddling and chillin your bedroom
He doesn't like disorder of any type. I mean, no clothes on the floor, no shoes all around the room, no messy bathroom or kitchen
I do believe he likes to send flowers to his gf work, he would like to give them to you in person but sometimes being a Wayne is very time consuming
SARCASM= Bruce Wayne
Brucie loves when you cook for him
His love languages are definitely gifts and physical touch
For him it's super important that Alfred like his gf because after all he is basically his father
He does everything in his power to get his girlfriend's name out of the press
Loves that Alfred and her are close
He never tells you but he thinks about the names for your future children
Bruce would pay for your rent without telling you every time you struggle with money
He encourages his gf to have a good relationship with her parents because he wishes he could have his own
You've caught him humming some of your favorite songs
He's the one who told Lucius Fox to call you Mrs. Wayne even if you're not married yet
You were very surprised the first time a secretary called you Mrs. Wayne and also when Lucius said he knew you would eventually be Bruce's wife
He was really scared you might leave him after he told you about Batman
He likes to hide your stuff at home just so he can see you smile when he "finds" whatever thing you lost
As soon as he knows someone talked shit about you he makes sure they get fired from whatever job they have
Bruce can be like a little kid, he enjoys annoying you sometimes just for fun
If you're not good at cooking he would hide the disgust because he loves you
When Joker and Bane appeared he was terrified of them finding his identity as Bruce Wayne and then they would hurt you
Idk why but I believe he kicks in his sleep
He finds cute when the two of you accidentally match clothes
He hates your favorite movie but pretends he doesn't just to make you happy
You just know he likes Disney even if he keeps denying it
You take him and Alfred with you for Christmas with your family, you can't stand the thought of them being alone in that huge penthouse
He doesn't like Halloween but respects that you do
Bruce doesn't like loud noises, it triggers him
You like to bake cookies for him, the ones his mom used to make for him. He cried the first time you did that for him
He is terrified of becoming a father but wants to
Whenever you visit him in his office he flirts with you a lot only to make you blush. He has fun watching how you ask him to shut up and behave
He doesn't like divas so if you act like one he'll probably tell you to stop it
Whenever you guys have a fight he isolates himself because ye thinks you'll break up with him
It might be difficult to believe for people but he can be super insecure
JEALOUS, but not toxic
Even with his gf he doesn't like to talk about his parents and their death
With the time he unconsciously adopts your expressions
He's used to luxury and money so he felt weirded the first time he stayed at his gf apartment where is really nice but nothing extremely fancy or expensive
He never tells you but more than once he has had to defend you from other rich people who called you ordinary and gold digger
Sorry but he would make you sign a prenup
If he ever gets married he wants a simple wedding, nothing extravagant
He's the one in charge of killing spiders and bugs
He would do anything to protect you , not only as Batman but also as Bruce Wayne
Bruce gave straight orders in Wayne Tower so everyone respects you and treats you as his equal, I mean, in the same way they would treat him
Every night before leaving to patrol Gotham City he gives you a sweet kiss to remind you he loves you
You asked him to teach you how the Batman technology at the Batcave works, just in case he needs help or you and Alfred have to protect yourselves
He would like to help you more (financially) but knows u won't let him
He wouldn't be comfortable dating someone who like to attract attention or being the center of it. He's had enough of it
He's a huge baby when he gets sick
He wants everything to be reciprocal: love, attention, commitment, communication,etc Obviously not expenses because it would be unfair
Tbh he got a little bit mad when you asked him to put limits with Selina
There is a huge probability of the 2 of you having arguments about some of his actions as Batman
He can be overprotective so you have to be firm and tell him to stop
He has to work on his communication skills,they are rusty
When he tells you you are the one for him he's telling the truth
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OK LISTEN
Bruce x wife!reader where they just recently got married and adopted lil Dick. Reader is very pregnant and this is the first Valentine’s Day they aren’t doing fancy billionaire Valentine’s stuff and instead they’re sitting at home with their son and having a nice night in.
tw: pregnancy, female reader, mention of the Wayne parents
“This time last year, we were in designer clothes and eating escargot,” you hummed as you stripped off your blouse that you wore to work. Bruce was removing his cufflinks and unbuttoning his shirt, but he paused at your words.
“Do you regret staying in this year?”
Your head popped out of the closet and you shot him an incredulous look. “Darling, I thought you were much smarter than that. I’m elated that we’re staying in.”
Once in your pajamas, you left the closet and smoothed down Bruce’s t-shirt over your growing stomach. At thirty-six weeks pregnant, you were fucking waddling around and none of your clothes properly fit but thankfully, your husband was 6’4 and pure muscle. His soft, cotton t-shirts fit you like a charm and the drawstring pajama pants Alfred insisted on gifting you every Christmas eve was the perfect addition.
“Hurry up,” you chastised. “We’ve got an excited nine year old downstairs.”
Bruce chuckled and pushed away from his dresser to stand in front of you. He kneeled down and pressed a kiss to the fabric that covered your stomach. “I don’t know how you managed to convince Alfred to let him have candy.”
“Pregnancy card works wonders.” You beamed and patted his cheek twice. “Now, c’mon. Or Dickiebird and I will just have to drink all the hot cocoa without you.”
Bruce watched as you toddled out of the bedroom before he rushed to change into sweats. The minute the pregnancy test said positive, his already protective nature ramped up to eleven. The second you reached thirty weeks, Bruce didn’t want you out of his sight.
With the addition of little Dick to the family, a baby was the last thing on your mind but an extended Justice League mission and threats of world domination meant a very welcoming return and two lines on a plastic stick.
As Bruce stepped onto the landing and made his descent to the first floor where peals of laughter and shrieks of delight erupted from the kitchen, he paused for a moment and turned back to look at the black shrouded portrait of his parents.
If only they could see him now. Married to the most incredible woman with a son and another child on the way…
He pushed aside the “what ifs” and continued to the kitchen. He knew your threat about the hot cocoa was very serious.
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alienguts · 3 months
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Stay with Me (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)
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Summary: Bruce and Y/N's tentative first date gets extended when a storm floods the roads.
Warnings: Fluff, idiots with feelings who can't communicate them properly.
Request?: Not really, but I like writing this dynamic to see where the relationship goes.
A/N: I doubt anybody would ever have a problem with how fictional dogs are characterised, but I like to think that Ace and Titus are friendly pups who like people.
1 - Picking up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me |
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Earlier in the week, Bruce had asked Y/N to come over for dinner. Neither of them had said the word ‘date’, but it was certainly treated like one.
The plan was originally for the two of them to order pizza and eat it in front of the TV while Y/N showed Bruce all the movies that he’d missed out on over the years, but the rest of the Wayne household had other ideas.
As soon as she’d pressed the doorbell,the front door was flung open to reveal Damian suited up for patrol, his brothers crowding the doorway around him. The small boy tried to keep his composure as his much taller brothers tried to push past him, eager to finally see Y/N after missing her for so long.
“Boys, you have to let Y/N come in,” Bruce’s voice came from behind the wall of geared up heroes.
“We just wanted to say hi to her before we go,” Dick said as he stepped away from the door first.
“Before you go?” Y/N asked in surprise. “Where are you going?”
“Bruce put us on patrol so he can stay here for your date,” Tim said and tried to yank Damian away from her side.
Y/N looked at Bruce and saw his face turn pink in embarrassment.
“It’s not a date,” Bruce said quickly. “We’re just having dinner, that’s all.”
“Sounds like a date to me,” Jason said drily before slinking off into the manor, Tim and Dick following behind him after waving to Y/N.
Just as she was about to step inside the manor, Y/N felt a tap on her side. She turned her attention back to Damian, who had yet to follow the others.
“It was nice to see you, Y/N,” he said before heading down to the Cave.
“When did he get so nice?” Y/N asked once Damian was completely out of earshot. “No offence.”
“None taken,” Bruce said as he closed the front door behind her. “We all know how Damian can be. He must have missed you.”
When the cool evening air was shut out, the smell of food trailing in from the kitchen got stronger. The unmistakable smell of toasted bread and melted cheese filled Y/N’s senses and made her mouth water.
“You already ordered without me?” she asked as they made their way towards the kitchen.
“Not exactly,” Bruce said sheepishly.
A large cheese pizza sat in the middle of the kitchen island, steam rising from its surface. The counter against the wall was dusted with flour and an empty bowl of red sauce was ready to go into the dishwasher.
“Ah, so nice to see you Ms Y/N!” Alfred said as he appeared from behind the refrigerator door.
“Alfred made it for us,” Bruce said.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Alfred said with a warm smile. “We haven’t seen you in such a long time, I thought I would make something special.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Y/N said and took a seat at the counter. “Your cooking is just as good as ordering takeout.”
“You’re too kind, Ms Y/N.” Alfred took off the apron he was wearing and hung it up on a hook on a wall before making his way back to the foyer. “Enjoy your evening.”
Once Alfred had gone, Y/N turned to face Bruce who was now the colour of a tomato. She had to stop herself from laughing as he buried his face in his hands and groaned.
“Sorry about all of that,” he said as he took a seat next to her. “When I told them you were coming over, they all acted like it was Christmas.”
“I don’t mind,” Y/N said and took the pizza cutter that Alfred had left on the counter. “I like seeing your family.”
“Obviously they like seeing you too.” He watched as she cut two slices and passed one to him. “Wait, let me get some silverware.”
Y/N laughed before taking a bite of her slice.
“You’ve never changed, Bruce,” she said around the bite of hot pizza. “Just eat it with your hands!”
“Old habits die hard, huh?”
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Although Y/N hadn’t expected the night to go wrong, it went a lot better than she’d expected. Since Bruce had sent the boys out on patrol duty and Alfred was keeping track of the comms, there were no distractions other than Ace and Titus sniffing around and wanting to be cuddled.
While Titus was more wary of Y/N, having been trained by Damian to be on watch, Ace was more than happy to shove his snout under her arm and wedge himself between her and Bruce. Despite being a German Shepherd, he seemed to want to be a lap dog.
The night was spent in front of the seldom-used television in the living room, Y/N showing Bruce her favourite movies and shows that he’d missed out on. And that turned out to be almost every movie and show ever made.
“Bruce, how can you have a subscription to every single streaming service and have not even seen The Simpsons?” she’d asked at one point.
“I don’t exactly have the time to be sitting around watching cartoons, Y/N,” he said with a laugh.
“Well, fighting crime and running a company and attending charity events doesn’t allow for a lot of leisure time.”
By 10pm, Y/N decided that it was time for her to head back home. She still had the weekend ahead of her but she didn’t really want to spend the last part of her night stuck in traffic.
There was just one problem: it had started raining. Heavily.
Y/N had never seen so much rain before. As a native Gothamite, she knew how extreme the weather could be at times, especially during the colder months. But this was torrential.
Thankfully, Wayne Manor was on higher ground and away from any likely flooding but the same couldn’t be said for her apartment on the Lower East Side. She watched the rain from the safety of the living room, worrying about how she would get home, or whether she could get home at all.
“It’s really coming down out there, huh?” Bruce said from behind her, snapping her out of her head.
“Yeah,” she said, her breath fogging up the window. “God, I hope the roads are okay.”
“You could always spend the night here,” he said casually. Maybe a little too casually.
“What?” Y/N asked as she turned around in surprise.
“I can get Alfred to make up the guest room for you. I didn’t mean, spend the night.”
“Oh,” Y/N breathed in relief. 
They hadn’t made anything official yet, weren’t even calling the date a ‘date’, so why had her mind immediately jumped to that?
“But I don’t have anything to change into, or my toothbrush,” Y/N said quickly, trying to make the air a little less awkward.
“That’s no problem, I can get you some clothes and I’m sure we’ve got a spare toothbrush or two.”
“Are you sure?” Y/N asked as she moved away from the window. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”
“Y/N,” Bruce said and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re family to us. You’re not intruding and I’m sure the boys will love you to stay over.”
Her heart warmed at hearing him speak so earnestly. She’d never been able to explain why she’d never felt comfortable in the manor when Selina was around, but it was all down to her own insecurities and jealousy. She hated to admit it to herself, but she hated being around them when they were a couple and she felt like she’d been cast aside, whether or not that was the case.
She didn’t care that it was selfish to think that Selina being out of the picture gave her her best friend back, but it was like he was finally seeing her again after years of being invisible. Like Bruce wanted her to be in his life again and wanted her to know that.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting on his chest as she listened to his heart pick up its pace.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Bruce returned her hug and rested his cheek on the top of her head, crouching down slightly so he could reach her.
“You’re always welcome here,” he said. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I think the atmosphere would be better around here with you.”
Y/N lifted her head from his chest, about to step away, when he gently pulled her onto her toes and captured her lips with his own. She startled slightly at first before letting him guide her, moving her hands from his chest to loop loosely around his neck, the hair at the nape of his neck just brushing her fingers. Their lips moved together softly, chaste enough to not escalate the situation but just passionate enough to feel it.
Once again, it was over too soon for Y/N’s liking. Bruce pulled away and briefly rested his forehead against hers before standing up straight again. He reluctantly released her from his hold and took her hand to lead her upstairs.
“C’mon, we’d better find you something to wear.”
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When Bruce had said that he’d find something for Y/N to wear to bed, she didn’t expect him to give her his clothes. The look on her face when he’d handed them to her must have said something.
“I didn’t want to look through the boys’ clothes so I just got something out of my closet,” he said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s okay,” Y/N said and took them before opening the door for the guest bedroom.
Bruce, naturally, was still wide awake and was going to join Alfred in the Cave but stayed up to help him make up the guest room and wish Y/N goodnight. Usually when she stayed over at a friend's house, she expected to sleep on their couch, not in a lavish guest room. But, then again, most people weren’t best friends with a billionaire.
“I had a really good night,” Y/N said as she lingered in the doorway . “We should have another night like this.”
“We should,” Bruce said with a warm smile. “I think the boys will be happy about that too. They were always asking when the next time you were coming over was.”
“Well, hopefully you can tell them that I’ll see them more often.”
“Don’t be surprised if they almost knock the door down tomorrow morning.”
They were quiet for a moment, neither of them wanting the night to end, but tiredness taking over Y/N’s body. She tried her best to stifle a yawn but only made herself look more tired.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Bruce said before stroking the side of her face with the back of his fingers and leaning down to kiss her forehead.
“Good night, Bruce,” Y/N said before reluctantly slinking into the bedroom.
As soon as the door softly clicked shut, Y/N inhaled deeply and slowly let her breath out. The night had felt like a dream and she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to wake up and find out that it had never happened. But the bundle of clothes in her arms told her differently.
She crossed the room to the bed and set the clothes down on it before undressing. Her own clothes felt scratchy and cheap in comparison to Bruce’s. He always told her that designer clothes weren’t important to him, but the quality of them clearly did. She pulled the plain grey t-shirt over her head and donned the sweatpants and sighed when the soft cotton brushed against her skin.
If she closed her eyes, it felt like Bruce was still with her, his strong arms circling her body and the scent of his cologne filling her senses. The clothes were far too big for her, but that didn’t stop her from feeling completely at ease.
Things were still moving slowly for the two of them; Bruce was still recovering from heartbreak, after all. But a slow pace was better than nothing. Y/N didn’t want to completely ruin everything by coming across too strong, but she wished Bruce was really there to sleep next to her.
Wearing his clothes would have to do for now.
As she drifted off to sleep, her mind conjured up the feeling of him holding her in his arms, stroking her hair, an echo of his heartbeat in her ear. Hopefully the next step in their relationship would come sooner rather than later, but she was willing to wait for him.
Even if that took forever.
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tinkerbelle05 · 1 year
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Single parent Bruce Wayne batkids being protective and (healthy) possessive over Bruce?? Batkids who have differing opinions on who Bruce should date?? Yes, yes, yes!!
I imagined that the kids are pretty used to Bruce going on dates as Brucie Wayne, to keep up the playboy persona. All of them have worried about varying degrees. Some took the time to do background checks on the person he was going out with and others decided to spy on them.
Hell, they would’ve been doing just that if Alfred hadn’t stopped them. Said something about how Bruce is an adult who can make his own decisions. They all knew the butler was lying through his teeth.
But they were all comforted by the fact that Bruce didn't have any feelings. That most likely, there would be no second dates with that person, they would fade into the faceless void that was the Gotham elite.
That assurance wrapped them up in a blanket when Bruce was out later than he was supposed to. When he came back happy and giggling rather than the usual indifference or just exhaustion.
“This is weird, right?” Duke questioned one day. They were all in the kitchen waiting for brownies that Jason was stress baking them.
“What is?” Jason asked-mumbled as he was setting the timer.
There was a definite tension in the air around them. For a full house of people, it was quiet. Just the sound of mindlessly scrolling on the phone and Jason’s baking filled it. The silence lingered either way.
“That we have this protectiveness of Bruce,” he explained. “Like he goes out for a ‘date’ and look at us. All nervous and fidgety. I mean, it’s been an hour and no arguments between Tim and Dami.”
No one had an answer for that. It was one of those that were complicated and simple all at once. Bruce was a person with feelings even though he tries to hide them, they are present. They exist. And he breaks, easy and often. And shouldn’t that be reason enough? Because he’s a person who has so much love to give but has been burned too many times.
But continues to love either way.
“Because he’s our dad and no one’s ever gonna be good enough for him, duh.” Jason answers, unfiltered and blunt. He was the most vocal in opposition to these dates in the first place, or Bruce going on dates in general.
“But it's all fake though? We all know that for him it might as well be another business meeting.”
Jason opened his mouth to respond when Bruce walked in, and as usual he was bombarded with a million questions. Duke’s question was forgotten by all of them.
“Where did you go?”
“What did you do?”
“Who was it?”
“How was it?”
“Guys, guys, calm down,” Bruce chuckles, “I just got into the house. Let me settle in first.” There was a faint redness of his cheeks, a glint in his eyes.
That only suggest trouble.
“And also, my date isn’t the type of person you guys are thinking of,” he starts off, walking towards the den. His kids follow him like little ducklings following their mother. “It was Harvey Dent “
“The fucking D.A?! Two Face??” Jason yells, alarmed. Harvey Dent wasn't the type to have fake dates with people.
“It was a real date,” Bruce admits to them. He gets comfortable on the couch and all of his kids surround him, preparing to latch on to every word. “Only Alfred knew about it because we know how you kids can get. I really like him, and I know that you have your suspicions, especially about him. So, please?”
“No!” Jason said, a frown on his face and his arms crossed. “I don’t like him, I don’t trust him, and he isn’t good enough.”
“Jay-“
“I agree with Todd, Father,” Damian cuts in. “My mother is a more suitable choice if we’re being honest.”
“Eh, if we are actually being honest, it’d be Superman.”
“Superman?!” Jason questions with disgust written all over his face. “Dickface, I know you have some hero worship going on with him, but that's the most basic of basic.”
“Plus, it’d be weird if I was dating my Dad’s boyfriend’s son,” Tim added.
“For once, Drake is correct. Neither Dent nor the alien is the correct choice for Father. Like I-”
“No, little brother,” Cass said.
“Yea, I agree with Cass here, Dames. I just don't see it working out with those two,” Duke agreed.
The argument continued well into the night and in true Wayne fashion, it in a debate style with well-thought powerpoints and some insults thrown in of course. No one had any agreement on who deserved their father.
“Um, do I get to make a decision on this?” Bruce asked in the middle of a laughing fit. It was nice to have the house full with people and laughter.
All of them looked at him with a blank stare and responded with a swift “No”.
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confused-wanderer · 1 year
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We all know Damian’s not one for physical or verbal affection. So I raise you: drawings
Drawings and paintings are the easiest way inside Damian’s mind. The more angry or disturbed he is, the more details the drawing is and the palette depends on the emotion. Fear? Bright lights with one pitch black spot. Anxious? A mixture of dark and light colours.
No matter what he draws, the batfam always looks for how detailed it is. On days he’s happy or content the drawing looks a bit abstract, like too many ideas were flowing and he didn’t mind making a mess (not having a specific direction) of his drawing.
But it’s also how he shows affection.
On Dicks birthday he once painted the entire circus along with a little dick laughing and swinging on the trapeze with his parents with the crew doing their acts and the animals having fun.
That was the first indication Dick had of Damian’s change in behaviour that showed him he was willing to open up, to care and change…even if it took time.
Jason found a particularly striking portrait of his favourite scene from a book, painted with a magnificent splendour with every detail and symbolism present, with the characters drawn just as he’d imagined. It’s so beautiful he hangs it in one of his most visited safe houses, and it isn’t until later when he realises it could have been the reason Damian stole his favourite book which contained notes on each scene.
Alfred catches a glimpse of Damian painting something he insists is for Bruce’s eyes only, but the palette was a mixture of bright colours.
Only on his parents death anniversary, when all his siblings are in town and sitting in a room with Bruce when he taps on Dick, Jason and Steph’s shoulders and asks them to come with him. They’re hesitant at first but the vulnerability in his eyes finally wins them over.
Damian knows how to draw, but not how to present, especially when everyone’s watching and he doesn’t know how they’ll react, or rather how Bruce would.
So they help him figure out how he wants to show Bruce, and on his request together take the painting and unveil it in front of Bruce when they’re all standing on the Balcony.
It’s a picture of the entire family, with all the newest members and in the background homages of their superhero identities, along with Easter eggs for poison ivy, Harley, the justice league and so many others.
But in the centre was Bruce, standing in the centre of his parents and all the other members in order from oldest to youngest, surrounding him.
It was the first time Damian learnt that tears aren’t always a bad thing.
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battymommastuff · 1 month
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The Other Side
Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily
Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City
!!TW!! - MENTIONS OF SA AND OTHER DARK THEMES
Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist
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!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.
You didn't get a chance to address the deep voice before a cloth was covering your face and the world went dark. A throbbing pain came next when you awoke. You were laying on a very luxurious bed. Looking down, you saw that you were still in your same clothing. Just a silk robe that covered your underwear. Your heart was racing as you looked around the room. Whoever lived here, lived in style. Everything looked as if it would cost you bodily organs to own. 
Before the shock could wear off, the two massive double doors opened, and a man walked into the room. A mask covering his face, and his eyes watched you carefully. Your body visibly shrunk as you stared at the intimidating man across the room from you, "Ms. (L/N), I do want to apologize for the rather harsh retrieval of you. We have to take precautionary measures these days." The man said while stepping closer to you. He stepped into the moonlight, and you finally saw every detail of his mask. A golden bird mask...no owl mask. What the hell is going on? 
"W-What do you want with me?" You asked, moving off of the bed once he got too close to you. The bed now served as a barrier between you and your kidnapper, but it didn't provide any comfort for you. All you could think of was being raped, and sold on the black market. Gotham City wasn't the safest city, but you never thought this would happen to you. How did this happen? There was always security watching over the bunk area every night to make sure this never happened. How did these men get in to kidnap you? Whatever the reason, you didn't feel safe with the circus anymore. 
"To give you a chance...a chance to be apart of something great. My organization works from the shadows to ensure the safety of our beautiful city..." Beautiful isn't a word you would use, but sure, "You possess a talent that could be beneficial to our cause." The man picked up a remote and turned the tv on. What played was several of your acts and some of your rehearsals. All taken from vantage points, and places that you wouldn't have noticed someone watching you, "We've come to realize that our organization is seen as a myth, a boogeyman. Many criminals fear us, and with your talents...we could harness that fear." He stepped around the bed and started making his way towards you once again. The fear you felt kept your legs from moving, so this time he got uncomfortably close to you, "Join us (Y/N). Join us and help us purge Gotham of everything that taints it." 
The Court of Owls. One of Gotham's scariest myths. You've heard whispers of them while spending days in the city. Some of your fellow performers even mentioned them once or twice. Everything you've ever heard was never good. This cult believes they are doing the right thing, but are harming so many in the process. You couldn't join them...you couldn't live your life in the shadows. What could ever be so wonderful about someone so full of darkness? It seemed that the man saw what you were thinking, and he backed away, "Such a shame...you would have been such a valuable asset. I'm afraid if you won't join us, then we have to do away with you. You will pose a risk to all of us." The man turned his back towards you, and you knew now was your chance. Grabbing the closest thing to you; a lamp, you hit him over the bed. The man dropped to the ground, and you ran to the window. Luckily you weren't too high from the ground, so you pushed the window open and climbed out. 
You could hear voices and yelling as you dashed into the dark, raining city. You hadn't a clue where you were going, but anywhere would be better than this. The circus would be the first place they would look, so you had to find somewhere new. You could hear footsteps behind you as well as some above you. They were after you, and they were fast. Thankfully, your breathing training worked wonders. Still you were no match for these skilled men. They managed to corner you into a dead end alley. This is it. The place where your dead body would be found. It all ended here. The vile smell of puke, piss, and garbage filled your nose as you looked around at the court members closing in on you, "P-Please...I promise I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." You pleaded, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. From behind you were pushed to your knees, and you could see your reflection in the blade meant for your death. 
The member lifted the blade up, but before it could meet your skin...a rope wrapped around their wrist. With a scream, they were pulled into the darkness. It felt as if all sound in the city stopped...everything went quiet. You felt fear before, but this was a new level of fear. A fear that you never would forget. A black shadow flew by, grabbing another member. This caused the rest of them to ignore you, and turned their attention to their surroundings. Now would have been the perfect time to run, but your legs were screaming. The adrenaline was wearing off, and it felt like you couldn't move an inch. A bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, right as a shadow covered the alley...a shadow of a bat. The mysterious savior dropped down on one of the members, and a fight broke out. You could only watch in awe as your savior took down every single member without much struggle. Once it was over, the figure turned towards you. Again the lighting allowed you a glimpse of him. The bat symbol of his chest matched the one in the night sky. 
"Batman..." You whispered, with relief before your eyes rolled back and you slumped to the ground. Batman walked towards you, and gently picked you up from the ground. He didn't see any visible injuries besides little scrapes on your knees from being pushed to the ground. Even now you were just as beautiful as you were while performing. He held you close and summoned the Batmobile. No hospital in Gotham would be safe enough for you. He needed to take you to the batcave. There you would be safe, and he could question you. 
"Alfred, get the med-bay ready. We have a guest." Batman said into his comms, after sitting you in the passenger seat. Your head leaned on the window, but your lips were starting to turn blue. Judging from your attire, you must have been getting ready for bed. With one final look over to make sure you were secure, he raced off into the streets of Gotham to the batcave.
TAGLIST
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ynscrazylife · 4 months
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THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️ — CHAPTER THREE
Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.
Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)
Series Masterlist
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It takes quite a lot to confuse Batman. Yet here he stood, reduced to speechlessness, as he stared at the odd group in front of him. The woman called herself Black Widow, said she was looking for his wife. Bruce thought he would’ve remembered if you mentioned anyone like this before.
“Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m also looking for her. How do you know Y/N?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms. They didn’t seem to be . . . Evil, but he had no clue who the hell they were or what you had to do with it and that was very annoying.
Black Widow glanced at her friends and another one of them, a man in bulky, flashy red armor, stepped up. “We used to be on a team together. Years ago. Until a mission went wrong and . . . She disappeared. I guess she landed here,” he said.
This did not help at all. In fact, it only made Bruce more confused. He was positive that you never mentioned working on a team before. “How long ago is ‘years ago’?” He asked next.
“About five now,” Black Widow answered.
Bruce felt like he was being slapped in the face. He had met you five years ago, when you were a rookie officer. You and he dated for two years, then married, and you were so skilled that you made detective within four years. Could this really be true?
“How can I trust you?” Bruce asked.
The group all looked at each other, seemingly coming to this conclusion that this masked man had a connection to you. Then, the archer pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, passing it to Bruce. He stared down at it, shocked to find that it was a photo. It was all these people, at some party, and . . . You. You were definitely younger, but it was clearly you, smiling and holding a drink.
Willing his hands not to shake, Bruce looked up at them. “I have a lot of questions,” he said bluntly.
“So do we,” the armored man said. “What do you mean that you’re also looking for her? Isn’t she here?”
Bruce took a deep breath, thankful that the mask covered his face, otherwise they’d see the tears pooling in his eyes. “She was abducted a few days ago,” he replied, forcing his voice to be steady.
“That explains the weird signal I detected,” another man said. He had a beard, a cape and looked like some sort of wizard.
Yeah, Bruce had a shit ton of questions.
//
It took some time for parties, the Avengers and Bruce, to get to really talking. They both had to give up information they’d rather not to learn more about the person they all cared about. The Avengers explained that you used to be on their team, until you went missing on a mission like they mentioned earlier. They said they scoured the world for you, until consulting with the wizard guy over here (who called himself Doctor Strange, Bruce didn’t comment on the weird name).
Doctor Strange said that he detected a signal not long after you had disappeared and, with his magic, found out what it meant: you were off-world. In a whole other universe. They’d been scouring the multiverse (which Bruce almost needed to sit down for a second after hearing), until finding a similar signal a few days ago which led them here.
So that meant . . . Both signals gave your last known location, told them that you had been taken. The first one was from the universe that the Avengers were from and the second was from this one, the one where Bruce made a life with you.
He was still utterly perplexed and didn’t completely trust them, but that picture . . . The timeline . . . It was tugging at something inside him. Bruce admitted that he had known you for these past five years, though he didn’t outright admit that you two were married. He was going to hold that fact close for as long as possible.
Finally, the Avengers led Bruce back to the point of origin, where they arrived in the forest. The masked man turned it all upside down, sadly not finding anything that could help.
But . . . He did have something they could help with.
“I don’t really want to do this,” he admitted, turning back around to face them. “But this is my only choice. My only clue to find Y/N. If I find that you’re messing with me . . .”
“We’re not,” a man, about Bruce’s height, looking like the American flag, said sternly.
Bruce sighed, forcing his shoulders to drop. “I have some footage to show you,” he said, really hoping that he wasn’t going for regret this.
//
As soon as the Avengers saw the footage of the store from earlier, Black Widow went pale.
“No, no, no . . . This . . . They’re inactive. This is impossible,” she said, gritting her teeth. Hawkeye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as all eyes turned to her.
“What?” Bruce asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.
“Play it again,” she snapped, leaning in close to the computer.
Bruce glared, but complied, restarting the video.
She took in a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “These people . . . Their uniforms, their behavior. It has the Red Room written all over them,” she said, as it dawned on the Avengers how serious this was.
“The Red Room? What the hell is that?” Bruce asked, his patience wearing thin.
540 notes · View notes
ichorai · 1 year
Text
talk ; bruce wayne.
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track nine of WASTELAND, BABY!
pairing ; rpatz!bruce wayne x fiance!gn!reader
synopsis ; it’d been years since you died. bruce stood silent in front of your grave, hair damp from the cold rain. you approached him from behind, tipping your umbrella forward just enough so the tears of the sky would stop mingling with his own.
words ; 6.8k
themes ; angst, action, fluff, engaged au, ex-thief au
warnings / includes ; faked death, injuries/blood/violence/death, depictions of human trafficking, a lot of Emotions, reader used to be a thief, mentions of the joker and harley quinn, alfred cameo !! and one smutty-ish sentence?
main masterlist.
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The ground was sodden with rainwater, mud clinging onto his black boots. Its long laces were loosely dragging through the dirt, wet and filthy, but he couldn’t be bothered to retie them. Rain dripped from the hair that hung limply from his head, frigid drops pricking his skin and meandering down his cheeks. The cold air from the sky was a pleasant but striking juxtaposition to the hot tears slipping from the corners of his eyes, conveniently camouflaged by the rain. It wasn’t often that Bruce Wayne cried, but for you, he allowed himself to shed a few tears.
After all, it was the third anniversary of your death.
He hadn’t shown up to your funeral—well, from what Alfred told him, he wouldn’t have made much of a difference. There were hundreds of people there. He was just glad he wasn’t there so the vultures of public press didn’t have the chance to shove flashing cameras into his face.
He could just imagine the headlines: Bruce Wayne At Gotham’s Most Notorious Thief’s Funeral, Y/N L/N And Bruce Wayne: A Tragic Romance, Bruce Wayne’s Ex-Criminal Fiance Killed By The Joker.
Bruce coughed into his fist, masking a strained, broken sob as his eyes trailed down your headstone, where your name was carved in stone. His shoulders trembled. The sky thundered. He bit down on his tongue. His lungs felt thick and heavy, as if slickened with tar. 
There were nearly a dozen bouquets of flowers crowded around the stone. Bruce noticed that there were several wilting roses amongst the heap of petals and thorns. 
You hated roses.
“Hope you didn’t leave me any of those,” said an eerily familiar voice from behind him. All of a sudden, the rain stopped pelting his head, shadowed by a dark umbrella, just enough to stop the tears of the sky from mingling with his own. “You know I hate roses.”
His shoulders tensed.
Chest constricting, your name slipped from his lips, nearly lost to the pelting rain. 
“The one and only,” you said. “It’s been a long time, Bru.”
He turned around, stiff. His eyes twitched in disbelief. There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat. A part of Bruce, the grief-stricken part, wondered if he was hallucinating you.
But you were here, in the flesh. And there was a small grin coyly toying at the corner of your lips. You had a hat pulled low over your head, nearly shielding your bright eyes as well, and you were dressed in loose, dark clothing. 
The ring he gave you dangled on a thin silver chain around your neck, gleaming as if regularly polished. You silently noted that he still wore his own engagement ring.
Bruce’s supposedly dead fiance tilted their head, regarding him with veiled fondness.
“Come on,” you said, pointedly turning away so that the umbrella was no longer hovering over him. He flinched when the cold rain touched his skin. He stood there for a second longer, still in shock, before numbly following behind you. 
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Rust. 
Bruce could smell it everywhere.
“I know it isn’t much,” you said, shouldering the creaky door to the abandoned warehouse open, “but it’s home. For now, at least.”
You glanced over your shoulder, catching Bruce’s hardened eyes. With pursed lips, you shook the water out of your umbrella before shucking it closed, tossing it somewhere in the corner. Bruce watched as you busied yourself with lighting small gas lamps on rickety metal chairs, before allowing his gaze to briefly dart around the room. It was spacious in a way that was unsettling—dark and dreary, cold and lifeless. There were a couple dozen boxes stacked along the opposite wall, lining the large, moldy windows. A beaten down sofa was placed off to the side, with a thin blanket messily thrown over the back. 
You’d been living here this entire time? 
When he spoke—his first words to you in three entire years—it was shaky and saturated with raw hurt. He was… he was so inexplicably angry with you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, so quietly you nearly wished he was yelling instead. “How could you… how could you do this to me? To Alfred?”
The splinter within the fractures of your heart was all of a sudden a large stake, and Bruce held the hammer.
A small sigh fell from your lips and you turned to face him fully. “It’s a long story.”
Bruce’s frustrated countenance remained unchanged. “You better get going, then.”
You shifted your weight from foot to foot, before dropping down onto your patchy sofa. “You don’t wanna sit down?” you asked. He gave you no response. “Alright, then.”
There was so much to tell him. You didn’t know where to start.
After clearing your throat, you finally croaked out, “That night three years ago—I contacted the Joker through Harley Quinn. She was an old pal of mine from my crime days. Through her, I asked him to meet me under Gotham’s largest bridge because I had a deal to make with him. A part of me wasn’t sure he was going to show but—my reputation as the city’s most famous ex-thief was more than enough to convince him. He was curious, you see. He thought I was coming back into the business of stealing. It didn’t take him long to realize that I wasn’t planning on working with him, and he was about to call his cronies for back up, but I knocked him out before he could reach for anything. I planted evidence of my death on him—a knife with my blood on it, his fingerprints over my equipment, his hair on my clothes, my skin under his nails. The next couple of hours, I was across the city, ingesting a fake-death pill—potassium cyanide. The next day, the entire world thought I was dead, killed by the Joker—though if you dug up that grave you were standing over earlier today, you’d find it to be empty. I framed him so he’d land in jail, Bruce. Like he deserves to be.”
Bruce’s pallid complexion made it look like he was going to keel over and hurl. “Why? Why did you do it?”
“There were people trying to kill you because of me, Bru,” you whispered. “They wanted me dead, and they wanted you dead, too. I was protecting you. If I’m gone, then they’d no longer have a reason to kill you.” 
“YOU COULD’VE TOLD ME!” he roared, his pain ricocheting throughout the warehouse. All of a sudden, he was no farther than an arm’s length away from you. The blue of his eyes gleamed with a mirage of resurfaced bitterness and anger. His voice quietened, “I could’ve done something. I could’ve helped you. We could’ve worked through it together.”
You shook your head. “You knowing I was alive would’ve put us both at more risk. I had to do it, Bruce. I… I had to do it so I wasn’t under the eye of scrutiny anymore. Being the most famous ex-thief and Bruce Wayne’s fiance meant more eyes on me than practically anyone else in the country. One tiny slip up, and I’d be in jail right next to the Joker!”
Bruce reared back upon realizing what you were saying. “You faked your death to steal again?”
“No!” you bit back, voice cracking. “Not to steal. To help—just without the cops on my back. Without the Penguin breathing down my neck. Without Deathstroke hunting me down. I did it to protect you and help the city in my own way.”
Silence stretched thin between the two of you. Bruce was tense, frozen in front of you, repeating your words over and over in his head.
“I still love you, Bru,” you said, reaching out for his arm. “That’s never changed.”
He moved out of your way, flinching at the mere prospect of touching you.
“Then what do you want from me?” he snarled, gruffer than he had intended. “I grieved you. I couldn’t—I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’d failed you. I couldn’t save you. It tore me apart, Y/N. I just… I loved you so much. You meant so much to me. And to just… leave without so much as a goodbye! Not even a note!”
Your hand fell back to your side, a sharp ache clawing within your ribcage. 
“I’m sorry,” you said, gritting your jaw and willing the surfacing tears away. “I’d love to hash this out with you, B, but there’s more pressing matters at hand. I would’ve never told you that I’m still alive if I really didn’t need your help.”
There was a beat of silence. Bruce shifted, shoulders hunched over as if he wanted to cave in on himself. The thought of being around you right now was simultaneously the worst thing he could do to himself, and what he desired most. 
He missed you—painfully so. He missed the hard, determined edge to your expression whenever you concentrated on something. He missed the way you used to cradle him close to you when he had terrible nightmares, kissing around his bruises. He missed the way you’d playfully bump your hip against his while the two of you worked on the same table. He missed the way you'd lewdly moan your special nickname for him—Bru—into the mattress when he rolled his hips into yours from behind, pressing hot kisses down your arched spine. He missed your infamous grin, and how it never failed to replicate itself onto his own lips. He missed your scent—a homely mix of cinnamon and lavender, a smell he wanted to drown himself with. After you’d died, he’d sleep with your hoodie pressed against his nose—and he did so until the perfume wore away, and the last trace of you was gone. He missed your laughter, your lighthearted banter with Alfred, your help on missions when he found himself at a dead end. 
This time, you were asking for his help.
And how could he say no to that? 
Bruce’s sore eyes darted from the rusty ceiling to you, watching him intently. “What is it?” 
Hope sparked within you, like a candle lit in the middle of a hurricane. “Human trafficking, Bru. That’s what I’ve spent the past three years trying to take down. Gotham is rampant with it. If I told the police… they would’ve been five steps ahead and relocated across the country and we’d be right back to square one. I finally got my hands on some intel—they’re moving a bunch of kidnapped children through the abandoned railways under the city tomorrow night. I don’t know where they’re going, but I can’t let them leave, or things would get infinitely more complicated. I don’t know how many exactly. Could be a couple dozen. A hundred. Maybe even just one. But I know I have to stop them—and I can’t do it alone.”
There was something akin to awe behind Bruce’s blue irises. “The five missing kids randomly appearing in a homeless shelter last year—that was you?”
A weak grin nudged at the corner off your lips. “Yeah. The poor things were being forced to manufacture illegal firearms with scrap metal parts.”
Another beat of silence. The hesitance in Bruce seemed to wane away with each passing second. 
“How do you know it’s not a trap?” Bruce stepped closer to you, eyebrows furrowing. The fact that all of this was happening right under his nose made a sick feeling twist his stomach.
Your lips trembled. Slowly, you pulled out your phone, pressing on a video file and held it out to him. He took it from you, watching with horror as the grainy footage played. Half of the screen was black, as if filming from behind a wall. The kids were chained, manhandled and shoved into a truck by several armed people, screams and cries echoing along the metal walls. There was a louder shout, closer to the person recording, and the camera began to wobble and shake, pulling away from the crime scene as they began running. The video was cut off there. 
He felt sick. His eyes flickered back up to you, anxiously worrying on your bottom lip. 
“I filmed that around a day ago,” you whispered, throat thick with emotion. You began to physically shake. “I saw it. I tried to stop them—but I messed up. One of the guards turned around the corner and saw me. I killed him, Bruce, or the entire operation would’ve been blown. I… I—”
There was a cold hand on your shoulder. His thumb brushed against the bare skin of your collarbone. Your fiance kneeled in front of you, nodding his head to silently tell you to go on. You swallowed nervously.
“Thankfully, the rest of them didn’t know I was there. I don’t know where the kids are now, and it kills me to wait. All I know is that they’re planning on taking them through the railways tomorrow. It’s the best shot I have.”
Bruce’s stare burned into you. “You’ve been managing on your own for the past three years. Why are you only asking for my help now?”
You winced, pursing your lips. “The man I killed—he didn’t go down without a fight.” 
Gingerly, you shifted your hands down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal tightly wound bandages over your stomach. Much to your dismay, they were soaked through with copper-hued blood, a dark shade that sent a queasy tremor up your spine.
Almost immediately, a shadowed, closed-off expression melded over his features. You couldn’t exactly tell whether or not he was angry at you, or just angry in general. 
“You’re bleeding,” he stated, rather bluntly. You bit back the urge to berate him for spelling out the obvious, and remained quiet as he told you to lean back. “Do you have extra bandages?”
“Yeah—in that box in the corner there. Nicked ‘em from the pharmacy down the block.”
Bruce frowned at that, but didn’t vocalize his disapproval. 
In the box, he’d noticed a bottle of alcohol beside the bandages, grabbing that as well. 
He strode back to you, softly asking you to peel back your bandages. You complied, but not without a grumpy divot appearing between your brows. If you weren’t practically bleeding out in front of him, Bruce would’ve found it to be rather endearing.
There were several lacerations across your abdomen, some shallow, and others deep. There were stitches across the more serious wounds, but they were done shoddily. Bruce sent you a look, swallowing hard.
“These look awful.”
“Why don’t you try stitching yourself up, then?” you hissed, biting down on your palm as he started cleaning up your wounds with an alcohol-doused bandage. 
Bruce couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was cleaning up his fiance’s stab wounds after three years of their supposed death. A part of him wondered if he’d wake up from this nightmare, sprawled across his bed with his nose tucked into your hoodie. 
But this was real. 
Your muffled groans of pain brought him back down to earth.
You were real. 
As swiftly as he could, he neatly wrapped fresh bandages over your waist, murmuring a shaky apology when you cried out from the stinging agony of the combined pressure and the cleansing alcohol.
“What else have you been doing?” Bruce asked, much to your surprise. Your eyes darted to his, and his skin flushed with heat, shifting his gaze to the ground.
It took you a moment to formulate a response. You were walking on eggshells around him, afraid that a slip of your tongue would make him get up and leave. “I’ve been in international waters for the majority of the time—staking out meetings, organizing heists, stealing from the rich—all that lovely jazz. I went to France, Mexico, India, New Zealand—trying to find something to do. My purpose. I guess I was traveling all over the place to run away from Gotham for a while. But I came back—because Gotham will always be my home. Because Gotham is where you are.” You fixed him with a pointed gaze, and Bruce swallowed uneasily. The hazy blue of his irises darkened a shade. You spoke again, voice lowered, “I gave all the money to charities, by the way. A couple of orphanages, too. Balancing out the scales, Bruce. For all the shitty things I’ve done.” You gritted your teeth when he wound another set of bandages over you for good measure. 
Your words made an overwhelming sense of nostalgia wash over him, like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. There was good in you, no matter what the press had to say about that. Bruce knew that you were doing your best to help Gotham, just like he was. In your own way, of course, but it was what made Bruce fall in love with you in the first place. 
You cared so much for Gotham. For its people. Even when they probably didn’t deserve it.
“Ironic that I fell in love with one of the richest men in the world, isn’t it?” you chuckled, lolling your head back onto the sofa’s armrest, staring up at the rusty warehouse’s ceiling. Bruce could feel his chest constricting. “What about you, Bru? What’ve you been up to since I’ve been dead?”
The man gave you no response, merely lifting one of his shoulders in a tense shrug. He wasn’t sure he was ready to divulge the past few years to you just yet. As much as he missed you, dreamed of you coming back to him—he couldn’t find it within himself to tear down all the barriers he built around himself since your death. 
It was all too sudden. Bruce needed time.
You understood him all too well, much to his mild relief, and hummed noncommittally, as if to say ‘take your time’.
“You can’t tell anybody that I’m alive,” you said breathlessly, after a moment of terse silence. “Not even Alfred.”
Bruce’s jaw flexed. He didn’t like keeping secrets from the closest thing he had to a father, but he knew that it was necessary. “What’s the plan?”
“They’ll be moving tomorrow. Are you in, Bruce?”
Only now did he realize that his hands were still splayed out over your bandaged abdomen, and he jerked back, as if he’d burned himself. You propped yourself up on an elbow, a hint of an amused grin tugging at the corner of your lips.
God, you were so beautiful. 
It took a great amount of effort for him to look away from your lips, and he focused on leveling his gaze with those bright eyes of yours.
“I’m in,” he said.
You smiled, all warm and utterly heart-breakingly wide, and Bruce could swear the air stilled around the two of you. 
“Alright.” Your hand reached out to clasp his pale, cold one. He couldn’t pull away. He should’ve. He didn’t want to. “We strike at midnight.”
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There was something about Bruce’s Batman suit that made you stop and stare at him with awe. Quite a few adjustments had been made to the outfit the past three years—the bulletproof platelets over his chest and abdomen were much more form-fitting than before, and a lightweight cape draped down to his ankles, dark as the night. His mask was different as well—it was tighter and covered more of his face. Seeing him like this made you remember that Batman didn’t hide in the shadows—he was the shadow.
He caught you watching him, the blue of his eyes flashing almost dangerously beneath the moonlight. You noticed the way his gaze trailed up and down your form, soaking in your own suit.
It was a simple outfit, made up of a long, cowled coat, the hood draping over your forehead and stopping just above your eyebrows. It was a mottled hue of grey, perfect camouflage for the dull concrete jungle of Gotham city. A mask of the same color covered your nose and mouth, leaving just your eyes for Bruce to see. The rest of your outfit beneath the coat was dark and well-fitted, with several compartments to store your gizmos and gadgets. 
There were two daggers slid into your utility belt and a third emergency one strapped to your left shin. Further hidden within your pockets were a multitude of smoke grenades, ropes, and throwing stars. 
You had a small pistol wedged into your belt, but that was only for worst-case scenarios. You knew Bruce didn’t like guns.
The two of you stood before the entrance of the abandoned railways, the gaping tunnel overgrown with moss and greenery. He gave you a weary glance, non-verbally asking if you were ready. You gave him a soft nod in response. Graffiti lined the walls near the front, but as the two of you walked in, there were fewer and farther in between. 
The plan was clean-cut. Locate the children, take out the guards, and high-tail out of there. Your fiance (or was it ex-fiance? You weren’t quite sure) had made you promise not to kill anybody but—given the circumstances, you weren’t entirely sure if you could hold up to that promise.
Bruce had this innate ability to move in a way that if you hadn’t known he was already there, you wouldn’t have seen him at all. His hands loosely wrapped around your wrist to guide you to the right, and you couldn’t help but hold your breath at the minimal contact.
In the distance, the two of you heard echoing murmurs, gruff voices of what sounded to be a pair of boisterous men. They were getting closer, and getting close fast. In a whirl of dark fabric, you found yourself pressed up against the wall, Bruce’s face mere inches from yours. His long cape draped over the both of you, blending seamlessly into the shadows. 
It took you another second to realize that his entire body was slotted against yours. His scent warped around you and consumed you whole, an overwhelmingly nostalgic aroma of fresh mint and blueberries and something purely, entirely just Bruce. You inhaled sharply.
This close, you could see the thin flecks of pale green amongst his blue irises, the smudged mascara around his eyes, the small, faded scar on his jaw. You could—
Oh.
A lump formed in your throat. You could hear his heart beating—feel it—thundering against his ribcage, just above where yours was. 
Heat spidered beneath your skin, crawling up your neck and flushing your cheeks. Bruce watched you with an indiscernible gaze, jaw set. Perhaps it was a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate, dipping towards your lips for a millisecond before flicking right back up to meet your heady stare. 
Desperate for a distraction, you craned your neck, and caught sight of the two men passing by. You bit onto the inside of your cheek, swallowing down a tirade of curses when you saw that they both held guns. Of fucking course they did.
Another couple of minutes, and they turned the corner, speaking to each other loudly. Bruce stepped away from you then, still keeping his eyes trained on you.
They both have guns, you signed with your hands. Sign language was something the two of you learned together during your first year of dating—it was always handy in case of emergencies such as this. 
Bruce cocked his head in understanding. Stay in the shadows, he signed back.
You nodded, and the two of you took off once more, skimming across the gravel so quickly that you were practically floating. 
The two of you slowed to a halt in front of several wrecked train cars, rusted and filthy with neglect. You peered through the glass, noting a few guards milling in front of trucks on the opposite side. That must’ve been where the children were. Tilting your head to look further to the left, you caught sight of a row of children lined up against the wall to the side of the tunnel. Chains shackled their wrists and ankles together. They were entirely silent, which unnerved you more than anything.
You’ve done this a million times before. Why were you so nervous?
Ah, right. Maybe, just maybe, because last time, you got stabbed. Or maybe it was because the love of your life was right by your side—the man who was supposed to think that you were dead. 
You bit down on your tongue in a fruitless effort to quell the nausea roiling about in the pits of your stomach. 
With a gentle hand to Bruce’s shoulder, you signed, Six kids. Get them to safety. I’ll take the guards.
Not allowing him the chance to protest, you reached into your coat’s pocket and brandished two smoke grenades, your other hand sliding out a dagger. You leapt through the totaled train’s doors, before pulling the pins out with your teeth, chucking them amongst the lounging guards. 
Shouts erupted as two large plumes of ashy white smoke encompassed the entirety of the tunnel. Silent as the night, you snuck up behind two guards, bashing their heads together hard enough to render them unconscious. Your dagger flipped in your hand as you knelt, sweeping around and stabbed another right in the leg, dragging the blade down the entire length of their shin. An ear-splitting scream ricocheted across the stone walls of the tunnel. 
That was when the gunshots started ringing out. You were able to dodge them lithely, watching the trajectory of the amber sparks made by the ricocheting bullets and ducking away from its sweeping arc. You drove your dagger straight into the jugular of the guard with a gun, kicking him back until he fell into the gravel, gurgling incoherently through the blood flooding his mouth. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Bruce ushering the children through the wrecked train cars, towards the exit. Panic seized its dark hands around your heart as you spotted another guard—the last one in sight—pointing their gun towards Bruce. 
You ripped your dagger out of the guard’s throat in no less than half a second, pulling your arm back to hurl it through the air. The blade embedded itself cleanly through the side of his head, the impact sending him crashing into the wall. 
A breath of relief slipped your lungs, and you ran over to scoop the fallen gun up, shoving it into your belt. 
Bruce had all the kids—it was time to go.
You dashed through the first set of doors into the train.
A deafening gunshot rang out to your right, and you dove down out of pure reflex.
But you were too late. 
Searing pain blossomed over your chest, your stomach, your head—everywhere. 
Children screaming. 
Footsteps thundering. 
The gravel beneath you—cold and sticky with your blood.
Bruce yelling your name, panic saturating every syllable.
The edges of your vision flickered with darkness.
Chest heaving—heaving—heaving—your breath leaving you—
Bruce… the children…
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Oh, fuck. Everything hurt.
Your head throbbed angrily.
“Wake up, Y/N. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!”
Bruce’s voice was tightly interwoven with dread—bordering on hysteria as he knelt down over you, palm applying direct pressure to the bullet hole in your abdomen. A low moan fell from your lips at the searing agony that shot up your body. 
As soon as your eyes dazedly cracked open, Bruce swore under his breath, mild relief seeping into his blown eyes. You’d only been down for no less than two seconds before he ripped his batarang from his armored chest, sending it arcing through the air to the last gunman, striking him down. 
Not a single thing registered in your mind as Bruce swept you into his arms, carrying you down the tunnel and ushering the children along with gritted teeth and panic-laced words.
An overwhelming sense of terror still coursed through the very fibers of his being. He couldn’t lose you—not again. 
“Bats, put me down,” you said, hoarsely. “Put me down.”
A protest was on the tip of his tongue, but the warning glare you sent him made him reluctantly comply, gently lowering you down to your feet. Your hand clutched his bicep for stability while the other still held pressure against your bullet wound. There were so many emotions coursing through him that he nearly felt dizzy with the overwhelming barrage of turmoil. 
The two of you soon reached the end of the tunnel with half a dozen kids in front of you. Bruce herded them into the back seats of the Batmobile—it was a tight fit, but they were small and eager to leave. One of the little girls started crying as soon as she sat down on the leather seat of his car, and Bruce could feel his heart lurch with an ugly amalgamation of anger and concern. 
He slid into the driver’s seat just as you slumped into the one next to him. A groan of pain left you as you began rifling through the car dash’s compartment, whipping out a roll of bandages and began winding it around your abdomen. 
The car purred to life and in no less than half a minute, you were jetting off, leaving the dirty crime scene far behind. 
Bruce’s eyes darted from the dark road to you, nearly bleeding out in the passenger’s seat. You were panting shallowly, head tilted back as you swallowed uneasily. Sweat beaded your forehead.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” he whispered.
“No,” you replied, a biting edge to your tone.
Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. “You have a fucking bullet in you.” His voice lowered, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I can’t lose you again.” The last bit was said softly, his voice cracking with raw hurt. 
You shook your head, stubborn. Your voice was quiet enough so the trembling kids in the back wouldn’t be able to hear you. “Don’t take me to the hospital, Bru. It’ll ruin everything I’ve built the past few years. Nobody can know I’m still alive.”
There was a beat of hesitation. Bruce clenched his jaw so hard it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack under the pressure. “At least let me take you back home. Alfred can help you.”
You frowned but kept silent. Going back to the Wayne Mansion was less than desirable, but it was the best choice you had—the other being bleeding out to death in your rusty abandoned warehouse. Your nose twitched as you slowly shifted to look out the window. 
The drive went by much quicker than expected, mostly because you were fading in and out of a pain-induced unconsciousness. When you cracked your eyes open again, your head was pounding angrily and your bullet wound pulsated hotly in tandem with the thick, languid beating of your heart. You could faintly make out Bruce in his Batsuit just outside of the car, leading the kids into a building. 
Your gaze shifted upwards, a sigh of relief falling from your lips upon seeing the gotham orphanage sign. Bruce helped the woman at the door usher the children in, before handing her about a dozen fat wads of cash. The look on the woman’s face was priceless—mouth gaping and eyes misting over with unshed tears. His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear him from inside the car. 
Once Bruce made sure the kids were safe inside, he nodded once to the woman, before turning back to the Batmobile.
He slid in smoothly, checking all the mirrors to make sure that nobody had followed you. 
“How are you holding up?” he asked, quiet and uncertain.
“I’m alive,” you replied. “Could really use an Advil right now, though.”
He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Think you need a bit more than an Advil.”
You couldn’t find it in you to reply, the edges of your vision darkening at a concerningly rapid pace. 
“Hang on for me, baby,” Bruce whispered brokenly, his hand darting out to grasp your limp one as he drove to the Wayne Mansion, slamming down on the gas. “Hang on.”
The street lights began to expand into a million shards of light as your eyelids drooped.
Blinding, blinding, blinding. 
And yet you could see everything. The blue of Bruce’s eyes that constantly glanced over at you. The trembling of his pale hand on the steering wheel. The tacky blood that meandered down your sides and pooled into the crevices of the leather seat.
All of a sudden—
It all went dark. 
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It’d been three years since you stepped foot in the Batcave. 
Really, it was just a private underground railway beneath the Wayne Mansion, but it definitely wasn’t fit for its original use and you were sure at least a couple dozen bats made the dark tunnel their permanent home, thus its name.
Bruce carried you out the car and into his work station, worry woven between every muscle. He deposited you gently onto the table, just as the elevator door rattled open. 
Alfred stepped out, and he immediately blanched upon seeing you, bleeding and teetering on the edge of death itself.
They exchanged a couple hurried words, but you couldn’t hear much. Everything was blurry. 
A tear slipped down your cheek when Alfred made his way to you, his hand cupping your cheek. He had a medkit clutched in his hands, and he popped it open right beside your head. 
“Hi, Al,” you murmured hoarsely. “Long time no see.”
“Hello, my dear,” he replied fondly, deathly calm. It might’ve been a trick of the dim lights, but you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes misting over with unshed tears. “Last I checked, you were dead.”
If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve laughed, and given him an easy shrug. “Plans changed, I guess.”
Mustering what little energy you had left in you, you turned to look at Bruce as Alfred began peeling your clothing back to start working on your wounds. 
“Hey, Bru,” you whispered. Bruce’s lips twitched at the nickname. “If I don’t make it—”
“Don’t say that,” he gruffed.
His warning fell upon deaf ears and you spoke again, determined. “If I don’t make it, for real this time, just remember that I love you. And I’ve never stopped.”
Something in his chest broke, and a suffocating sob thundered within him. He clutched at your limp hands, whispering out your name just in time for you to hear before you let the darkness take you one last time.
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The first thing you noticed when you came to was Bruce’s hand still holding tightly onto yours. The second thing was the fact that the pain in your abdomen was no longer unbearable, but instead subdued to a sharp ache. 
Your gaze roamed around the room, and you dimly realized that you were in Bruce’s bed—the bed that the two of you had slept in together when you were together. He was asleep by the edge of the mattress, hunched over in a position that wasn’t at all good for his spine. 
He still had the black eye makeup on, smudged and flaking off, dried bits of mascara on his cheeks. His hair was mussed, as if he had raked his fingers through several times. 
When you shifted a bit on his expansive mattress, Bruce stirred awake, the blue of his eyes shifting from confusion to panic to relief in a matter of seconds. 
“Hey,” you croaked. “Thanks for getting me here. And tell Alfred thanks for patching me up.”
“We nearly lost you,” Bruce replied hoarsely. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Alfred wasn’t sure if you were going to make it. There was so much blood.”
A pained smile stretched your lips thin. “Well, I’m alive. Sort of. How long was I out?”
“A couple hours,” he replied. He exhaled quietly, lowering his head. “I never stopped loving you, too. After all these years… I should be mad at you. I was, at first… but I’m not anymore. I’m just—glad. I’m glad you’re here.”
You blinked, tilting your head. Slow, you wrapped your wrist around his hand, gingerly moving it up to your lips. You kissed the back of his palm, and he cupped your face tenderly just as the familiar sensation of tears began stinging the corner of your eyes.
“Oh, Bru. I’m so sorry for causing you all this pain. I’m sorry.” You hiccupped, not wanting to dissolve into a mess of tears right in front of him. “I love you so much. I wanted to come back every day, I swear. I had to do it. I did it for you.”
A glimmer of pain warbled in the blue of his irises. “After you died… I was in a bad place. I nearly killed the Joker when I visited him in prison—I was this close. Gordon took me away before I could. From then I just… I lost myself without you. I spiraled. I was vengeance. Then the anger just sort of left and all I had left was just this… this ache. This hurt that never went away.”
A part of you was surprised he was opening up. It was as if the dam had cracked, and the water was spewing out and Bruce just couldn’t stop. He began to cry softly, the dark mascara meandering down his face once more and his hand shaking against your cheek. You could feel your heart crumbling through the bones of your ribcage, and you wanted nothing more than to hold him close to you. 
“Please stay,” Bruce croaked. “I can’t lose you—not again. I can’t go through that again. Please don’t let me go through it again.” His forehead fell to the mattress right beside your hip as his hand fell away from your face and his body shook. 
This was him begging, you realized in shock. He was begging you.
Helplessness placed its dark hands on your shoulders, and you were frozen for a second. 
“Bru, baby, I—”
“Please don’t leave. You can fight crime undercover with me. Here. By my side. Please—I love you.”
Tentative, you reached over and gently ran your fingers through his overgrown hair. This seemed to quell his shaking just a bit. He stayed in that position for another minute before peering up at you. 
“I’ll stay,” you said. “But we’re going to have to be careful. I can’t risk more people finding out I’m alive—and I can’t risk dragging you down with me. I need you to understand that if things go south, I’m leaving immediately—to protect you, Bru. And as long as you won’t hold me back from my own missions. We might’ve stopped one trafficking transfer tonight, but I have no doubt that there’ll be plenty more to come.”
For the first time in a very long time, Bruce smiled. It was a small one, the kind that twitched at the corner of his lips and wrinkled the corner of his mirthful, tear-glossed eyes. 
He shifted upwards so he sat beside you on the bed, pressing a chaste, affectionate kiss to your forehead. His palm found its way back to your jaw, and he rested his temple against yours. 
It’d been three long years since you kissed him.
You arched your neck just enough so his lips would meld over yours. A pained, broken noise fell from Bruce’s throat, and he surged forward, kissing you back with just as much vigor. He missed this. He missed you. 
He avoided touching your stomach, afraid that he’d hurt you or rip the stitches of your wound. The last thing he wanted was to explain to Alfred how you’d managed to hurt yourself even more. 
As he kissed you, your hands moved to grip his biceps, nails digging into his shirt. His nose bumped softly into yours and he could feel your radiant smile growing against his lips, utterly contagious. Your homely smell, the mesh of cinnamon and gentle lavender invaded his senses, and he nearly started sobbing again at the pure nostalgia from it all. 
You were back. You came back to him.
“As lovely as this is,” you husked, voice lowered an octave, “I still need you to promise me you won’t hold me back. You’d be Batman and I’d be… a ghost.” It pleased Bruce immensely to see your chest heaving, and your pupils dilated as they shamelessly darted from his eyes to his lips. 
“I promise,” he whispered against your lips in reply. Despite everything that had happened the past few days, he still trusted you to take care of yourself. A thrill shot through him when the cold engagement ring around your neck pressed flush against his chest. “How’d I be able to hold back a ghost, anyway?”
You smiled into him, before tugging him down for another kiss.
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