summary: batman knows something is off when he starts to analyze his footage from the last gala he attended. he saws you. who are you?
series masterlist
n/a: i hope you enjoy this first part<3.
"Her again, Master Wayne?” Alfred’s voice echoed into the cave.
Bruce, with his short responses, only could turn his head a little and nod watching his screen again.
“Her dad…”
“Oh, yes of course. Sir William, great lawyer. He helped your family a few times.” Alfred nodded when he got closer to the desk.
“There’s something weird” Bruce’s voice was deep and raspy, his tone in suspense.
“Weird?”
“With his daughter”
“Y/N, honey come here” Even though his voice was gentle, Bruce could remember how he a little too hard grabbed your arm and made you stand up from your sit.
Bruce had his contact lenses on that night, right after he started being Batman, when he attended to galas, he’d to wear them.
“This is my lovely daughter” he grabbed your arm, pushing you slightly to Bruce. He could remember your face. You were flushed, with a hard —uncomfortable smile on your face. “Give him your hand” Bruce catches that small briefly whisper that came out of your father’s mouth, tiling his face to yours for a moment and smiling at Bruce.
“Hi, Mr. Wayne” You almost whispered, and Bruce saw how tight your arm was being pulled. “I heard a lot of you” Your voice was soft, pure, too damn good for Gotham.
“He always does that” Alfred said with an ashamed voice. “William always introduce his daughter to everyone —every man—, it’s… dreadful.”
William was a recognized lawyer in Gotham, since Bruce started working on his late night activities, and started to understand it, he at some point realizes that crime wasn’t just Gotham’s dark alleys. Was more that, it was the people, politicians, wealth men, fathers.
William’s name was always there when he investigated whatever he was working on, her dad had something off.
Bruce silence let Alfred know something was going on his mind. “… why… why she doesn’t do anything?”
“Her mother passed away a year ago. It’s only her and William, Master Wayne.” Alfred said. “We actually take care of one of their medical bills. The Wayne Foundation, she requested it some months ago”
“Why I didn’t know anything about it?”
The simple question made Alfred laugh dryly “I’d be surprised if you, Master Bruce, would be interested in your family legacy”
Although Bruce wanted to do something, he didn’t wanted to look so obsessed over it. So he eventually leaved at some weird case he’d check one day. Until that night.
Gotham streets were wet and covered with trash while you walked. It was late at night when he noticed you while he was on patrol.
He remembered your soft face.
Y/N was wearing a simple jeans and a sweater, under an umbrella that was doing anything to cover her from the pouring rain.
His face frowned when he realized that she just came walking in that direction he knew. Y/N was running out from the Iceberg Lounge.
“Hey pretty girl, come here” A male voice resonated in the empty street.
Bruce saw her look back and press her bag to her chest and walk faster. “No, don’t run, come on, I just want to talk”
Bruce was ready to interfere when the man reached her. “Why you runnin’? Your father told me you had free time”
The mention of her father made him nauseous. He saw from far how her face got pale and just couldn’t talk. “C’mon, I know you don’t talk-“
“No, please I have to go” y/n shaky voice made Bruce close his fists, her eyes were full of fear.
“Nah, come here”
“She said no”
Both jumped at the deep, hoarse voice behind them. The Batman walked in big, fast steps and grabbed the man from his neck.
He recognized him as some political rich man, knowing that she was definitely at the Iceberg. “Shit! I’m sorry man! I’ll leave her alone!” The poor man almost cried, full of fear when he saw The Batman looking at him with angry eyes.
“Go” He aggressive let his covered hands out his collar neck almost throwing him down, making the blonde politician run away from them.
She, on the other side, was almost shaking.
Y/N looked like a wet lost puppy with her hands grabbing her umbrella turning her fingers white. “You alright?”
She could only nod watching down her feet. Was she scared of him?
“Hey… look at me” Bruce’s voice came out rasp but still soft when he walked towards her. “He’s gone ”
“Thank you, Sir”
Bruce thanked inside him, the only light they had was the streetlights and some stores around so he could grin just a little when he noticed how polite she was.
“You work at the Iceberg?”
“No- I…” she babbled, nervous. “I only took my friend’s shift and-“
“Why?”
Bruce wanted to know. Why’d she go there? Very inside of him didn’t want to believe she’d be helping her father on some dirty business.
Everybody in Gotham knew the richest people —including him, at some point got involved in wretched deals, and even if she had actually good intentions, next day she’ll be gone.
“I have to go” Y/N said firmly, still looking at him with wide eyes.
“I won’t hurt you.” He said softly, almost only for him to listen. “You should not take your friend’s shift. You don’t need that money”
He knew after he said those words she’d be worried, knowing The Batman knows about her wealth and probably who she was. “Be safe”
Those were the last words Bruce said to her before he disappeared from her vision, keeping an eye on her from far away making sure she got home safely.
Kara knows how this looks. Clothes strewn from the hallway to the foot of her bed, Krypto snoring from the living room instead of his usual place in her bed, and, most damning of all, the girl beside her, sleeping peacefully on her stomach with an arm draped over Kara’s waist.
Kara gently extracts herself from the bed and trips across the floor, pulling on a random pair of jeans before stumbling into the hallway with Clark, closing the door behind her.
“It’s not what you think,” Kara says.
“And what do I think?” Clark whispers back, eyes wide.
“You tell me!” Kara defends. She can’t come up with something at all reasonable to say without exposing herself and subsequently, the lie she’s been telling Clark. A secret most of the time, dipping into dishonesty on some of the nights he asks to see her and she’s brushed off with a lame excuse.
Giving Krypto a bath. Cleaning the apartment. Wanting to turn in early.
“It looks like you got drunk and hooked up on a planet with a yellow sun! Fully powered, Kara!” Clark admonishes. And yes, okay. From his perspective this is all entirely reasonable and completely appropriate to be worried about. But Kara has just been pulled from her bed at eight in the morning after a very late night, and she can think of nothing else besides climbing back onto the mattress besides you.
“You and Lois—”
“Lois knows!”
“And—that’s—whatever!” Kara flings her arms up and sighs. “Look, Clark, I appreciate the concern. But really, it’s not necessary. Everything is fine.”
“Kara, I know you’re used to doing these things off-planet,” Clark tries. He sets his hands on her biceps, gripping softly. “But here on Earth…things are different. People talk. Superpowered beings are—”
“Kara?” The bedroom door creaks and you step out, wearing only Kara’s Blondie t-shirt. Just seeing you makes her blood pressure drop.
“Hi, baby,” she murmurs, pulling away from Clark and moving towards you. “You sleep okay?”
She cups your cheek in one hand, smiling softly as you lean into the touch.
“Mhm. You run so hot, the bed’s cold without you.”
“I’ll be right back, promise.” She leans down and kisses your forehead, letting her lips press longer than necessary. You hum happily.
“Don’t be too long. You can kick Clark out, right?”
Kara snorts and rests her chin against your head. “For you, yes. If you need incentive to be patient, I can offer a reward.”
“You’d give it to me no matter what,” you tease.
“Go wait,” Kara says, shooing you back into her room. “I’ll kick him out.”
When the door closes, she takes a moment to rest against it. Deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. It’s just Clark. She can do this. She’s fought literal monsters. This is nothing.
(But truthfully—monsters are the easy part. A direct, violent target that needs to be taken down. Heartfelt talks are harder, tangled, always a mess. There’s no defeating the enemy hurting you, there is only the hitching breaths in the silence and the burn of unwanted tears.)
Kara turns around, and is surprised to find Clark watching. He looks—odd. Off. Face softened with slow understanding.
“She knows,” he says softly. “Doesn’t she?”
Kara exhales noisily. “Yeah. She knows.”
“How much?”
“I…” Kara looks around uselessly. How does she even begin to describe it all? The gentle tugging of your love on her soul. Giggles and sloppy kisses on the way home from a bar she can barely get tipsy at. Your hands combing through her hair as she whispers about Krypton, lips brushing your chest.
I love you whispered for the first time by you, in Kryptonian, pressed against Kara’s ear.
“She knows everything,” Kara says.
“You love her?”
And he’s—Clark’s looking at her like he knows. Something in Kara’s chest twinges. Months, she’s been hiding this from him. It was ‘just friends’ in the beginning, Kara unstable and volatile and off-center. She didn’t know she could love like this. That she could have someone to come home to every day, to smile at her or hold her and tell her that everything would be okay.
She was so unsure that she’d be able to keep it. That something wouldn’t drive you away. Kara doesn’t have people. She has herself, Clark. And now: you. And you’ve shown that you’re staying. That you want to be here.
“More than anything,” Kara replies. Her eyes sting.
Clark leaves soon after, and Kara comes back into her bedroom, Krypto darting past her to throw himself onto the bed with you.
“Oh, hi,” you coo as Krypto throws himself wildly back and forth across the bed. “C’mere. You missed us, huh?”
Kara collapses onto the mattress beside you. “Hey, what about me?”
You laugh and reach out a hand to stroke Kara’s hair. “Are you feeling neglected?”
“Yes,” Kara moans. She rolls over on top of you, resting her head on your chest. “Give me attention.”
You lean down and kiss the top of her head. “Anything for you.”
notes i'm so in love with kara omg. i need everyone to get more supergirl pilled rn
Description: You have an argument with Clark about Superman, of all people. Krypto exposes your boyfriend's secret identity.
Pairing: david-corenswet!clark kent x fashion-editor!reader
(established relationship, secret identities)
The wine-dark sky lapped against the windows of your apartment.
The light from the neighboring buildings provided your room with ample lighting, as it would otherwise be drowned in darkness. A yawn escapes your mouth as you bury yourself deeper in your sheets; you could hear the air conditioner humming from above you. It sounds like white noise teasing you into sleep.
It’s been three months since you were last home—there’s nothing better than sleeping in your own bed after a hectic fashion season.
Your eyelids fluttered, threatening sleep, but you kept them open.
The smell of bacon and pancakes kept you awake. It was a silent reminder that your boyfriend was busying himself in the kitchen, that Clark was counting on you not to fall asleep.
I missed this. You yawned again.
“Dinner’s about to be ready in a few minutes! You better not be sleeping, young lady!” Clark yelled down the hallway.
“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself.
Fighting against Hypnos’ tempting embrace proved to be difficult, but for Clark, you’d do anything. You reached for the skies, stretching your limbs. Your hands wrapped around the glass of water that was sitting on the nightstand. You brought it to your lips, taking slow sips, hoping to shake away your tiredness.
Another yawn escaped your mouth as you pried the sheets off.
Your feet settled on the carpeted floor.
You stretched a few more times for good measure before making your way to the kitchen. The sound of the evening news flooded your senses before your eyes settled on Clark.
In your eyes, there was nobody more perfect than your boyfriend.
He had a square face, soft baby-blue eyes, and a dimpled smile. He looked like the kind of man that you could trust your drink with—and you did!
You handed him your drink in a speakeasy before going to the bathroom. You couldn’t find him when you came back, but that was only because you’d never forget a man as handsome as him.
“That looks good,” you hummed while wrapping your arms around him. Your face was pressed against his back, and you could smell your soap on his body. “And it’s legally called pancake.” He winks.
“None of that hotcake bullshit we ate in Wyoming?” you giggled.
“Language,” he warns with the tilt of his head.
A chuckle escapes your lips as you break free from the embrace.
You walked towards the fridge, pulling it open as you looked for his favorite orange juice. You always had a fresh batch waiting for him. Unlike your boyfriend, you could only show love in silence.
“We’re in the middle of Metropolis right now, Jan, where Superman defeated a foreign threat. The Mayor’s Office has confirmed that there are no casualties, but the infrastructural calamities are expected to exceed $10 million.” The reporter continued as she walked in the middle of a destroyed square.
Clark tenses.
You continued to pour him a glass of juice, settling the glass beside his plate. You walked to the other side of the counter, settling on the stool parallel to him. The cold steel of your chair felt uncomfortable against your warm calves, but you ignored the sensation.
“Now, Alexis, when are these repairs expected to be made?” The newscaster asked.
Your eyes were painted on the television to your side.
“Jan, Luthorcorp has extended their help in repairing Metropolis. In an interview with Lex Luthor a few moments ago, he alleged that Superman is a planetary threat that must be neutralized and that the damage done to the city should be considered an act of terrorism. Superman is yet to release a statement in response to these accusations.” The reporter answered as the screen flashed Lex Luthor’s petulant face.
Clark reached for the remote control, turning the TV off.
“I was watching,” your eyebrows merged.
He turned around and placed a stack of pancakes on your plate. He added more food to your plate, and you smiled. You already know how this is going to end—you’re not going to finish all of this, and he’ll eat both of your plates.
“I want your complete and undivided attention.” He pouted.
“You always do.” Your teeth burrowed into your lower lip.
He sat on the stool beside you. He tilts his body in your direction.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re more interested in Superman than me,” he shrugs while handing you a fork.
You mumble a quick thank you before digging into your bacon pancakes.
“Hm, nope. I don’t trust the guy.” You cut through the pancakes with ease, bringing them to your mouth. "—I know that you've done interviews with him, but he's fishy, babe." You shrugged, discussing the Superhero as if he were a celebrity or a politician.
He forned, as if you had personally offended him.
"How so?" He questions, ignoring his pancakes.
You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts without hurting your boyfriend (whom you believed to be a friend of Superman).
"He has all the power in the world, and he decides to do good?" You scoffed, believing that notion to be idiotic. Time and time again, people in power have proven themselves to be corrupt—and those are only people with political power.
Imagine what they'd do if they had the power of a God.
"I don't find that hard to believe," he defends.
A sigh escapes your mouth.
"Not everyone is as kind as you are—if you had his powers, maybe, but I find it hard to believe that an alien from another planet doesn't have ulterior motives." You continued to explain.
"If he had any, we would've known by now." Clark snaps firmly.
"I just don't trust him, okay." You huffed.
He's acting weird. You thought while glancing at his features.
He was glaring at his pancakes, deep in thought.
You place a hand on his thigh. He moves your hand away.
His phone buzzes—you glance and see that it's a message from Jimmy.
wish u were here, we having mad fun w/o u 🤪
"I have to go," he places his fork down.
"I thought you were gonna stay for movie night?" You pouted.
"I got a work emergency." He lies—but you don't push it.
"Oh, okay." You nod, leaning towards him for a goodbye kiss, but he just dashes away to reach his coat. "Bye!" He glances over his shoulder to flash you a smile, but you don't reply.
Good morning. I'm at work now. Hope you have a great day!
You stared at Clark's message.
Normally, he'd send you paragraphs with a minimum of three images.
Good morning 🥰 have a great day
im here with phoebe today
i might drop by your apartment later
You replied.
"Are you okay?" Phoebe asks while aiming her camera at you.
You nod your head, placing your phone inside your pocket. "I'm sorry that you have to do this," you apologized. She probably felt offended at photographing a 'lifestyle celebrity' when she mostly meddled in the city's serious affairs. Has Superman not saved anybody yet?
"Please, you're the most photogenic person I've ever shot—you go before Superman." She compliments, earning a smile from you.
Fuck Superman. You thought about your 'argument' with Clark.
You never thought of him as the kind of person who worshipped the ground of a superhero, but then again, Superman is his close friend. Clark is the only person who's able to get the hero's statement. To him, it was probably like bersmirching Jimmy or Lois' name.
"Have you ever had trouble in paradise, Phebes?" You asked.
"Never been to paradise, but I've had my fair share of ex-boyfriends." She chuckles, taking a couple of shots as you pose in different ways. Your photos were going to be in the September issue of Tattle—not the cover, of course not—and your father has always warned you not to be in Tattle but the magazine would be good for business.
"Democrat girlfriend, piece of shit boyfriend." She jokes.
"It's nothing drastic. I just disagreed with Clark about something, and he's acting so weird about it." You explained to your close friend.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"You never disagree with Clark about anything," she points out.
"Just this one thing. I can't help but think there's more to it. I mean, he basically bolted off the moment we talked about it," you hummed.
"Is it a personal thing or...?" She asks.
"No, uh, just politics, or rather just a political figure." You remained vague, and she nodded.
"It's Superman, isn't it?" Phoebe asks, and you nod.
"Just talk it out. Superman is a polarizing figure—Clark is a journalist, and I bet he knows how to practice discernment." She advised, and your lips pressed into a thin line. She basically just described what you were planning to do next.
Your keys jangled as you twisted the lock to Clark's apartment door.
"Clark?" You called out—only to be greeted by silence.
You sat on the sofa, Clark's scent lingered on the pillows.
You were just about to reach for your phone, but the sound of claws scratching against a wooden door caught your attention. "Hello?" you called out once more, and the door to Clark's bedroom burst open. Before you were able to get another word in, a fuzzy piece of white flew in your direction. Yes. Flew.
Arf. Arf.
The dog barked as your back pressed into the soft mattress—as if he were aware that your bones were softer than his—he began to lick you. "Uh, where did you come from?" You placed a hand on his head, softly moving him away from your body.
"Did you just fly at me?" You asked, praying to God that your eyes were just playing tricks on you.
The dog barks and lifts itself off the floor.
"What the fuck," you cursed, and the dog tilted his head.
The dog twirled around a few times before flying towards the kitchen cupboards, where, conveniently, there was dog food.
You reach for your phone once more—hoping to send a message to Clark, but your phone suddenly turns off.
Shit, I forgot to charge. You cursed.
"Doggie, stay." You glanced at the flying dog before bolting towards Clark's bedroom. The dog, uncaring about your command, flew behind you, almost bumping into the wall.
Your eyes darted across the dog's bed, which had his name, 'Krypto,' and landed on Clark's nightstand. You opened the drawer, searching for his charger, but your gaze landed on Superman's UNDERWEAR. Yeah, the one that he wears on the outside.
The gears on your head began to turn.
The missed calls. His cousin, who looked a lot like Supergirl, who was allegedly partying in Ibiza. His sudden offense at your accusations towards Superman. Not to mention the flying dog behind you.
Fuck. Your boyfriend is Superman.
With a deep breath, you sat on his bed—as if on autopilot, you plugged your phone into the charger, and it flashed the charging icon.
"Woah," you stared at the wall.
Krypto sits on his bed, watching you with a confused stare.
He flies in your direction and settles beside your feet. He gives you a few blinks before rolling to show you his belly—begging for rubs.
Your phone opens and pings uncontrollably.
You can't go to my apartment today. I'm getting it exterminated.
I got termites.
Those wood eating insects.
I'll go to your apartment.
You glanced at Clark's messages. "Too late," you mumbled. You glided off his bed and settled on the floor—rubbing Krypto's belly a few times.
You missed a call (65).
You could hear the apartment door open from down the hallway. Krypto doesn't bother standing up, comfortable with your pets. It makes perfect sense. You thought about it.
But still, you didn't know whether to believe your hypothesis.
Clark says your name as he bolts down the hallway, almost bumping into the wall (like what Krypto almost did a few minutes ago).
"Hey," you glanced at him from over your shoulder, and he took a step forward. He glanced at the bed, seeing his underwear lying around.
"I can explain," he takes another step forward.
"You should admit the truth—or it'll just look weird since you have Superman's underwear lying around." You kept your face neutral, still in shock over the revelation.
Krypto barks at the sound of his voice and flies towards Clark—knocking your boyfriend off balance. "Krypto, stop! No!" Clark scolded while standing up. Krypto continued to nibble on his calves.
"You are Superman, right?" You asked with certainty.
"Yes," Clark doesn't lie.
You stand up and face him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" You interrogated.
"I don't want you to get hurt." He walks around his bed, dragging Krypto with him as he stands in front of you. "Is that why you escaped from me last night?" You asked, and he reached for your hands. "Yes," he admits. "—It hurt hearing those words out of your mouth, like I was nobody, and I never want to be a stranger to you." He continues with a sigh.
He avoids looking at his underwear for the meantime.
"I'm just trying to be a good person. I didn't ask to have these powers; I don't know what to do with them, but I promise that I don't have ulterior motives. I just want to help people." He explains himself.
"I'm sorry for being such a pessimist," you apologized.
"No—I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I'm sorry that I had to get caught for you to know." He apologizes too.
"But I didn't know, babe. I didn't know that he was you, or you are you."
There was a moment of silence between you, only broken by a few barks from Krypto. Clark stares deeply into your features, searching for traces of doubt or mistrust, but he sees nothing but admiration.
You are silent for another minute before your eyes meet and a laugh escapes your lips.
His eyebrows furrowed.
"What?" He asks.
"It's just that—this is all too unreal." You answered with another chuckle. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. "—but I'm glad that you're Superman, 'cuz you're the best person in the entire world." You smiled, gaining your composure. "—and you have no dictatorial tendencies."
You made your way down the hallway, presumably to take out the food you ordered from Clark's favorite place.
Krypto flies towards the bed and begins to gnaw on Clark's underwear.
"Krypto, no! Don't do that!" Clark pulls the dog in his direction with a sigh.
A/N: my first dc fic after being a marvel girl for 6 years 😭.
clark trying to convince you to live in the fortress of solitude 😭😭😭
i know this was just an observation but it made me want to elaborate that moment between clark & reader 😭
FORTRESS OF UNIFICATION — Clark Kent
pairing: clark kent / f!reader. word count: 582. content: addition to this fic. established relationship. silly bickering over where to live.
clark kent masterlist
“No.”
“What—?” Clark followed you into the kitchen, hands grasping at the air in desperation, “Honey, come on!”
You turned on your heel, face soured as you went through the motions of the conversation at hand that had lasted all of ten minutes before it shifted into the shallow end of a brewing argument.
The topic being: where to live.
Clark stood with his shoulders rounded and wore an incredulous look that—in your humble opinion—was a little dramatic given what he was asking you. You both stood in his Ma and Pa’s kitchen, both parents long retired to their beds when the housing topic arose at the dinner table.
It was time to combined two homes into one. And, neither of you felt like budging.
“I’m not moving into that…that thing.” You crossed your arms across your chest.
Clark’s brows raised into his hairline. “That thing? You mean to say, my home—your husband’s home?” When you threw your hands up in the air and moved past him to get into the living room and save yourself from being cornered, Clark followed hot on your heels. He then added, “Come on, honey. It makes sense. It’s safe, far enough away from…well, everything.”
“Yeah. That’s why it is called the Fortress of Solitude. Alone. Secluded.” You piled onto the description of the place, shivering at the memory of the last time you had visited. Mainly because it was freezing amongst other factors.
(Clark soon found out you might be one of the only humans on the planet that didn’t like the Fortress of Solitude.)
As the slander left your mouth, Clark pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “We can call it the Fortress of Unification. Two hearts unified. Together.”
“You can’t just change the name of something once it’s been named, Clark. Just ask the creator of the Bean in Chicago, who desperately reminds everyone it’s actually called the Cloud Gate.” You bent at the waist to pick up a blanket from the floor and chucked it back into the basket next to the sofa you and Clark had been cuddling on. You mumbled, “So dumb. It’s clearly a bean.”
Clark dropped his head back, his eyes closed as his nostrils flared in frustration from getting nowhere with you. When you turned around, you watched him openly, molars grinding out of your own frustrations and guilt rising in your chest.
It was a silly argument. Something that could be squashed in a less juvenile state, but you really needed Clark to realise you had just wrapped your head around the Metropolis Subway, and you didn’t want to undo all your hard work by living in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of robots to keep you company on the weekends.
“Look. If it’s the cost of apartments in Metropolis, I can find another job.” You said quietly.
Clark dropped his gaze to you. A full pout on his face. “Money isn’t the issue for me. I just think, I’ve got a perfectly good place to live!”
“You sound like a mother.” You argued with a laugh. “I’m going to bed. We can sleep on this. I love you.” You stepped into Clark’s space and kissed the pout on his lips before sauntering down the hallway to the spare room.
Clark rubbed the wrinkles on his forehead and broke into a speedy walk to catch up with you.
He whispered sharply, “What about the Fortress of Partnership?”
⊹₊⟡⋆ Summary: You're a photojournalist at Daily's Planet, and you've been trying to catch Superman for a year. But, who winds up with an interview with him every time? Clark Kent. You've decided enough is enough, and you're going to get your photo and interview no matter what.
⊹₊⟡⋆ a/n: Hello everyone! Sorry, it took me so long to finally post this. I hope you enjoy! I do not consent for my content to be published on other platforms and such by others. Also, please don't claim my work as your own! <3
“He left you high and dry?” Lois questions. It's the day after your fiasco with Superman. You and Lois are walking from a coffee shop to Daily Planet. “Yes! He said he just couldn't...I even got on top of him”. Lois pouts her lips at your confession; her hand gently pats your back. “Poor thing”. When you two arrive at the Daily Planet, Clark’s energy is a bit...off. He’s sitting at his desk staring at it. “Hey, Clark, everything alright?” You ask; he looks up at you. He attempts to appear happy, but it doesn’t work on you. “Yes” he lies; you give him a look that shows you’re not convinced.
“Alright...I won’t pry” you continue your work shift reliving the events of last night. You think about a reason as for why; he could’ve acted that way. Does he have a girlfriend? You and Lois text back and forth coming up with conspiracies. After being left by a literal superhero, you think you deserve a movie night. Hence, why you’re at the supermarket standing in the wine section waiting for the notification that your sushi is ready. Your eyes skim the wine brands, and you grab the one that sounds the most appealing. You walk from the aisle, bumping into Clark. “I’m so sorry” he apologizes. You shake your head, “No... It’s fine, I’m sorry...”. He looks at you, then at your hand holding the bottle of wine.
“Bad day?” you nod at the question. “I got ditched by this guy...” you say. He looks at you, analyzing the slight disappointment in your tone. Though your original plans tonight were to be alone, a little company wouldn’thurt. “Would you like to come over my place, and watch a movie? I know it’s last minute, but I noticed you seemed a little sad too.”. To your slight surprise, he obliges. He buys your wine for you and drives home to change while you pick up your sushi. You decide to order him a roll of his choice, since he bought your wine. You get home quickly to shower and change into your pajamas.
You spritz a bit of perfume and set up your living room for this eventful night. Like clockwork when you add the finishing touches, Clark rings your doorbell. When you open the door, he’s greeted by your smile and the smell of your perfume. The perfume he was just basking in last night. “Welcome to my lair” you say, presenting your apartment to him. He chuckles as he walks in; you can’t help but notice how good he looks in his t-shirt. The fabric clings to his muscles; you look at the sushi to take your focus off of him. “The one on the right is mines”, he walks to the kitchen, opening the bag in his right hand. Bottles that you’ve never seen before are presented to you. “Wine doesn’t really...get me there”, he admits.
He looks at your cups before looking back at you for your approval. You nod; he prepares his drink and yours as well, handing the wine glass to you. “Thank you”.
You two sit on the couch, your blanket covering you both as Clark begins the movie. When the title screen pops up, he looks at you shocked at the genre you chose, horror. You give him a slight smile before eating your meal. The movie continues, and you two are definitely tipsy. A jump scare occurs that startles you. He turns to you, his hand rubs your arm gently, “everything alright?”. “Yeah,” you scoot closer to him, and your shoulders touch. Instead of pulling away, he tests his luck by lifting his arm, resting it on the couch. You stare at him, you don’t know whether it’s because you two are tipsy or because of you and Superman yesterday. But you wanted to kiss him, so you lean in a bit closer. He doesn't pull back, instead, he leans forward. His lips against yours in a somewhat familiar kiss.
Because of both of your slightly intoxicated states, he feels a bit more confident. He picks you up from where you're sitting and sits you on his lap. You pull back to catch your breath, when you do, you see him take off his glasses to clean the fog from them. That’s when it clicks; Clark is superman. “Holy crap!” You yell, getting up immediately. You cover your mouth at the realization; his eyes widen when he realizes what you see behind the glasses. “I-I’m so sorry-” Clark explains, walking closer to you. “You lied to me! You’re Superman? I kissed you last night?!”. He nods, looking at his shoes feeling guilty as ever. “I wanted you to want me for me. Not, superman...I didn’t feel right if we continued and you didn’t know. I was going to tell you I swear”. You rest your hand on your chest listening to his explanation. “I really like you...I’ve liked you since your first day at Daily Planet.”. Your heart softens at his confession, understanding the situation he’s in.
“You should’ve told me” You say. “I know...I just didn’t want you to tell anyone”; he walks closer, hoping you won't ask him to leave. You walk forward, “I won’t tell a single soul...Clark. I promise. Your secret is safe with me.”. He feels a weight lift off his shoulders. “Now...Can I take you on a proper date, this weekend?” He asks. You smile at the offer, “I’d love to”.
⊹₊⟡⋆ Summary: You're a photojournalist at Daily's Planet, and you've been trying to catch Superman for a year. But, who winds up with an interview with him every time? Clark Kent. You've decided enough is enough, and you're going to get your photo and interview no matter what.
⊹₊⟡⋆ a/n: Look at me with the double upload. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! I do not consent for my content to be published on other platforms and such by others. Also, please don't claim my work as your own! <3
“You were rescued by Superman?! Oh my gosh are you okay?” Lois asks over the phone. You two are on face time deciding on an outfit for your interview tonight. “I’m perfectly fine, it was nerve-wrecking at first, but because of superman, I’m still alive. Maybe I should wear something a bit scandalous to show my appreciation”. Lois giggles, as you rummage through your closet. “This is cute, right?” You show her the two-piece set. “Perfect! Wear that”. After setting up to get ready, you two say goodbye. You begin your nighttime regimen, spraying perfume on yourself to finish. By eight-thirty, you prepare tea for yourself, and research Superman’s favorite beverage.
You hear a soft knock at your fire escape window. You open it, and the broad man climbs into your home. “Hi” you say softly, taking in this 6’4 man with muscles of steel. “Hello” his deep voice is like music to your ears. “Please...have a seat” you gesture towards the dining table. You grab a soda from the fridge, “I heard it’s your favorite”. You place the can on a coaster. “That would be correct”. You smile, taking in the small victory. You place your beverage on a coaster in front of his. “I’m glad you agreed to do this interview”, You say. “Of course, I’ve seen your work. It’s quite remarkable”.
“Thank you...I’m so touched,” you try to stay professional, but he looks so good. “Would you like to begin the interview?”. Your thumb clicks the pen, and you open your notebook. “I’d love to”. You press play on the tape recorder. Your gaze falls on him, admiring the view. “So, many women find you quite attractive”, he chuckles at the compliment.
“Would you mind telling me how tall you are?”.
“6’4”
“How big are you?”
He looks at you, flattered by the question. Your eyes widen at how the sentence sounds. “I mean how much do you weigh...”. You cover your face, completely embarrassed. “225”.
“225...” you mutter; your eyes flick back to him. “I apologize for how my previous sentence sounded; I did not mean it in that manner”. “No... you’re fine”. He looks at you, “you’re fine” he repeats. The grip on your pen tightens, you can’t help but feel warm under his gaze. You continue the interview, asking him about why he’s a hero, and does the responsibility ever become too much to bear. You can’t ignore the looks he gives you; the tension is thick. Your finger presses the pause button, “Superman...I feel a bit of tension”. You bat your lashes at him, waiting for him to kindly reject you.
“Well...you would be correct” he stares at you. You toss the notebook and pen onto your couch. Superman moves the table aside, giving you room to get closer. He doesn’t give you the chance, because his hands are already on you, picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, “I’m not one to do this” you whisper. “I believe you, because neither am I” he pants, leaning in for another kiss. His lips against yours feel amazing, his grip on your body tightens, it’s suffocating, but hypnotizing at the same time. “You’re so beautiful” he mutters against your neck. You pull his head from your neck, kissing him again. His eyes search for your bedroom to see the door slightly open. He carries you to the room, gently placing you on the bed. When he hovers over you, you wrap your legs around his waist putting your self defense class nights with Louis to work.
You giggle at his surprised expression, when he realizes you're now on top of him. He looks at your face, hands resting on your waist. “We can’t do this” he whispers, your heart drops. “Did I do something wrong?” you question. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to you, gosh no. He’s been attracted to you, since your first day at Daily Planet. With something this intimate, he wanted it to be with him as Clark Kent, not Superman. “No...no, you’re perfect. I just can’t, I’m sorry”. He gets up from the bed and leaves the same way he entered. Leaving you sitting on the bed in confusion.
⊹₊⟡⋆ Summary: You're a photojournalist at Daily's Planet, and you've been trying to catch Superman for a year. But, who winds up with an interview with him every time? Clark Kent. You've decided enough is enough, and you're going to get your photo and interview no matter what.
⊹₊⟡⋆ a/n: Look at me with the double upload. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! I do not consent for my content to be published on other platforms and such by others. Also, please don't claim my work as your own! <3
“You were rescued by Superman?! Oh my gosh are you okay?” Lois asks over the phone. You two are on face time deciding on an outfit for your interview tonight. “I’m perfectly fine, it was nerve-wrecking at first, but because of superman, I’m still alive. Maybe I should wear something a bit scandalous to show my appreciation”. Lois giggles, as you rummage through your closet. “This is cute, right?” You show her the two-piece set. “Perfect! Wear that”. After setting up to get ready, you two say goodbye. You begin your nighttime regimen, spraying perfume on yourself to finish. By eight-thirty, you prepare tea for yourself, and research Superman’s favorite beverage.
You hear a soft knock at your fire escape window. You open it, and the broad man climbs into your home. “Hi” you say softly, taking in this 6’4 man with muscles of steel. “Hello” his deep voice is like music to your ears. “Please...have a seat” you gesture towards the dining table. You grab a soda from the fridge, “I heard it’s your favorite”. You place the can on a coaster. “That would be correct”. You smile, taking in the small victory. You place your beverage on a coaster in front of his. “I’m glad you agreed to do this interview”, You say. “Of course, I’ve seen your work. It’s quite remarkable”.
“Thank you...I’m so touched,” you try to stay professional, but he looks so good. “Would you like to begin the interview?”. Your thumb clicks the pen, and you open your notebook. “I’d love to”. You press play on the tape recorder. Your gaze falls on him, admiring the view. “So, many women find you quite attractive”, he chuckles at the compliment.
“Would you mind telling me how tall you are?”.
“6’4”
“How big are you?”
He looks at you, flattered by the question. Your eyes widen at how the sentence sounds. “I mean how much do you weigh...”. You cover your face, completely embarrassed. “225”.
“225...” you mutter; your eyes flick back to him. “I apologize for how my previous sentence sounded; I did not mean it in that manner”. “No... you’re fine”. He looks at you, “you’re fine” he repeats. The grip on your pen tightens, you can’t help but feel warm under his gaze. You continue the interview, asking him about why he’s a hero, and does the responsibility ever become too much to bear. You can’t ignore the looks he gives you; the tension is thick. Your finger presses the pause button, “Superman...I feel a bit of tension”. You bat your lashes at him, waiting for him to kindly reject you.
“Well...you would be correct” he stares at you. You toss the notebook and pen onto your couch. Superman moves the table aside, giving you room to get closer. He doesn’t give you the chance, because his hands are already on you, picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, “I’m not one to do this” you whisper. “I believe you, because neither am I” he pants, leaning in for another kiss. His lips against yours feel amazing, his grip on your body tightens, it’s suffocating, but hypnotizing at the same time. “You’re so beautiful” he mutters against your neck. You pull his head from your neck, kissing him again. His eyes search for your bedroom to see the door slightly open. He carries you to the room, gently placing you on the bed. When he hovers over you, you wrap your legs around his waist putting your self defense class nights with Louis to work.
You giggle at his surprised expression, when he realizes you're now on top of him. He looks at your face, hands resting on your waist. “We can’t do this” he whispers, your heart drops. “Did I do something wrong?” you question. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to you, gosh no. He’s been attracted to you, since your first day at Daily Planet. With something this intimate, he wanted it to be with him as Clark Kent, not Superman. “No...no, you’re perfect. I just can’t, I’m sorry”. He gets up from the bed and leaves the same way he entered. Leaving you sitting on the bed in confusion.
⊹₊⟡⋆ Summary: You're a photojournalist at Daily's Planet, and you've been trying to catch Superman for a year. But, who winds up with an interview with him every time? Clark Kent. You've decided enough is enough, and you're going to get your photo and interview no matter what.
⊹₊⟡⋆ a/n: I've seen so many edits of him on tiktok. I need that at this point. I do not consent for my content to be published on other platforms and such by others. Also, please don't claim my work as your own! <3
You sit at your desk preparing mentally for your shift at the Daily Planet. You take a sip of your morning drink, relishing the flavor. You close your eyes taking in the liquid; this is what gets you up for work, Monday - Friday. “Morning, Steve” Clark says. Clark Kent, your co-worker, and the only man who can get an interview with Superman. But you’re determined to catch him, get a photo, and interview him. “Good morning, Y/N” he says, gently twirling your desk chair. “Clark, just the man I want to see” you say, following him to his desk.
“You’ve been waiting on me?” He puts his things on his desk, giving you a smile. Those dimples flash at you. You’re starting to think he does this intentionally to throw you off. You gently slam the morning paper on his desk. “Superman saves the day once again” is the headline. “So, how’d you get the interview?” You ask; you stare at him waiting for the tiniest bit of truth to slip. “Him and I know each other, he’s a good guy,”. You roll your eyes, “you’re just casually friends with superman?”. He nods at the question. “How did you become friends with him?”. “I caught him one time, asked him for an interview, and ever since, we’ve been friends”.
You can smell the bullcrap a mile away. “If I were to catch superman, then I could get an interview, is that what you’re saying” you state. His eyes widen at your proposition, “I didn’t say tha-”. “No no no, if that’s how you did it, then that’s how I shall do it,”. You turn to him, walking back to your desk. And catch him; you shall. You spend half your shift editing photographs, and the other half researching recent Superman rescues.
How to catch Superman
Bring all your cameras
Be close to the heart of the city
Bring good running shoes
“You’re taking this superman thing seriously,” Lois says, watching you write in your notebook. “I’m tired of Clark always getting an interview with him, and I can’t. I’ve been trying for almost a year,”. Lois shakes her head, “Well...the way you’re planning tonight might be the night”. If you catch superman, this can help your career immensely. “She’s still trying to find superman?” Jimmy asks, sliding to your desk in his chair. “Mhm,” Lois responds. “Listen, Y/N, maybe...just maybe...Clark is the only person who can catch him, since they’re friends” Jimmy says. You turn your head to Jimmy, giving him a look. “My apologies...” he scoots his chair back to his desk.
“I’m going to catch him tonight, Lois” you say. Later that day, you sit on the rooftop of your friend’s studio building; they let you borrow it for the night. You bite into your burger, watching the city. You check your watch. “Perfect time for crime...this is when everyone is getting off from work” you think. Your radio plays your favorite song, causing you to tap your foot to the beat. You start dancing in your seat, next thing you know; you’re standing up singing the lyrics. You can’t help, but move your hips from side to side, forgetting you’re outside. You hear a loud crash causing you to turn your head. The building across from you is about the fall, and you see someone stop it. It’s Superman. “Holy crap!” You exclaim. You run to your camera and press the button to trigger a countdown.
You feel a wobble underneath your feet. Is this building coming down? You hear screams, floors under you, and people running out of the building. The building is coming down. One of the wobbles causes you to drop your burger off the ledge. “My burger!” you yell, you run to your equipment quickly packaging it. You zip your backpack, and run to the exit, but you’re too late. The building begins falling forward; your body falls backwards. You scream, and a silver bar appears in your peripheral. You grab it, and hang on. “Superman!” You scream, you grip onto the bar, but the building tips for its final time. You feel the building finally fall over causing you to lose your grip. Your body falls from the building, and the only thing you hear is your screams. Wait- why are you still screaming? You open your eyes from feeling the wind blow against your face. You see black curls, and broad shoulders.
“He is fine,” you think. You look down to see the S on his chest. It’s Superman. “Superman saved me?!” You say, you cover your mouth at your outburst. You hear a low chuckle come from him; you can feel the vibrations through his muscular body. “Thank you past me for shaving my entire body after work,” you think. “Mr. Superman” you say softly; he looks at you for a moment. “Can I have an interview with you or just a photo, either is fine...”. He places you on a street in front of a cafe. “Well, I’m busy right now, but maybe another time? Possibly later tonight...” he responds. You reach into your backpack quickly; pulling out an index card and writing your address on it.
“Just knock on my fire escape window...”. He looks at the paper, then back at you. “Yes ma’am” he whispers. The deepness of his voice makes you smile at him. He flies away, and you watch. You finally caught Superman.
parts: next
plot: gotham city’s bound to discover it’s got a prized bachelor on its hands. selina kyle got it, you got it, and you’d quite like if it stopped there, thanks.
pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader
cw: flirting, humor, one-sided pining (or is it?), minor jealousy.
words: 1.4k.
a/n: a little something quick I wrote after getting back from seeing the batman for the second time. battinson has been on my mind for the last five days… it’s getting real bad.
Bruce knows you’re there, but refuses to give you his attention even as you lean against his desk full of shiny computer screens. He’s watching something only he could possibly make out, but he’s been doing that ever since he got home six hours ago. You were of the opinion that he deserved a break. “So,” you drawl, watching the way his eyebrow twitches just slightly, “Selina Kyle, huh?”
Quick as a whip, your boss finally looks at you, glares at you, “Have you been snooping through my things again?”
You throw your hands up in surrender, “God as my witness, it wasn’t on purpose!” If Bruce believes you, he sure doesn’t look it.
parts: next
plot: gotham city’s bound to discover it’s got a prized bachelor on its hands. selina kyle got it, you got it, and you’d quite like if it stopped there, thanks.
pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader
cw: flirting, humor, one-sided pining (or is it?), minor jealousy.
words: 1.4k.
a/n: a little something quick I wrote after getting back from seeing the batman for the second time. battinson has been on my mind for the last five days… it’s getting real bad.
Bruce knows you’re there, but refuses to give you his attention even as you lean against his desk full of shiny computer screens. He’s watching something only he could possibly make out, but he’s been doing that ever since he got home six hours ago. You were of the opinion that he deserved a break. “So,” you drawl, watching the way his eyebrow twitches just slightly, “Selina Kyle, huh?”
Quick as a whip, your boss finally looks at you, glares at you, “Have you been snooping through my things again?”
You throw your hands up in surrender, “God as my witness, it wasn’t on purpose!” If Bruce believes you, he sure doesn’t look it.
--warnings: SICK FIC!!! not much, but bruce is very stubborn. fluff, fluff, fluff!
--gif credit: @gotham
You knew being out in the cold and the rain would eventually catch up to him. And, of course, he always ignored you. Bruce tended to brush off anything concerning his health, and it stressed you out. Whether you asked him about a jacket, or even to sleep in a little longer, he always denied it. So when you heard sniffling coming from his side of the bed, you knew he was in for a few days of rest, even if he didn’t want it.
You glance toward Bruce next to you, reading the morning paper and barely touching his food, his shoulders slumped more than usual. His constant sniffling makes you worry. Reaching over to rest your hand on top of his, you pull his attention away from the newspaper and onto you, “Are you feeling alright?” His palm turns over and interlaces your fingers, giving them a soft squeeze.
“Yeah,” his voice revealed the stuffiness of his nose, “I’m fine.” He checks the time before quickly changing the subject, “Don’t you have to be at work? It’s getting late.”
You’re studying his features as he speaks before you let go of his hold to bring the backside of your hand to feel his forehead, the skin hot to the touch. “Bruce, you’re burning up. I’ll take the day off, so that means you have to, too,” you walk over to Alfred to inform him of Bruce’s current state.
“(Y/N), I told you that I’m fine,” a tone of annoyance hidden in his voice, followed by a nasty cough. You know that he doesn’t want to abandon his work for a single day. His work trumps his health, according to his logic.
This pulls both your and Alfred’s attention. “Well,” you sigh playfully, “I guess Alfred can cuddle you back to health if you don’t need any of my help today!” You return to the dining table where Bruce still sits and pick up your purse. Leaning down to press a quick peck to the top of Bruce’s head, you add, “I’ll be off then…”
As you make your way to the front doors, a voice shouts your way, “Wait!” You peer over your shoulder to see Bruce standing, his eyes pleading for you to stay. “ I don’t feel…the best,” he mutters.
You fully face him, waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t, so you give him a push of encouragement. “You don’t feel the best, and you what,” you ask him in a sing-song voice. You know you’re pushing it a bit, but you still stand there waiting for his response.
“...And I would like for you to stay here. With me,” he adds.
This makes you grin as you walk over to Bruce, enveloping him in a hug. Bringing up your hand to brush his hair out of his face, you peck his forehead, “You’re stubborn, you know that right?”
You only receive a huff in response, but you’re satisfied. As the two of you walk up the stairs and back to bed, Alfred can’t help but chuckle at the two of you. You have Bruce wrapped around your finger, and he loves it.
--author's note: dear universe, just because i wrote a sickfic does NOT mean i should get sick...thank you!!! I LOVED THIS ASK!!! THANK YOU ❄️ ANON! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support me and my work! my 300 follower celebration is happening NOW, so send in something if you want to bae:) ok, ily bye<3333.
pairing: Bruce Wayne x Batmom
warning: Y/N used, Jason cameo, Oliver Queen mention, Superbat mention, nicknames (honey, my love), this is just cute Bruce & batmom, if you see grammar mistakes...no you don't
wordcount: 2,293
author's notes: Surprise, you get this earlier than I intended. Thank you all for the support with the first part. I'm so glad everyone is enjoying. As always likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)
[Batfamily Interviews Masterlist] | <- previous - next ->
The video opens up with a clip of a moment later in time. Bruce Wayne is in the hot seat with you asking the questions.
"I feel like this is going to be boring because you generally don't really lie." you say.
"What? I lie to the press all the time…and our children." Bruce states.
"Truth." the operator, Judd says.
You stare at him with wide eyes, "Honey, you can't say that."
The video cuts to both you and Bruce sitting next to one another. Both of your hands are clasp on the table while Bruce's are hidden under. One of them of which is on your thigh though the camera doesn't see it. A female crew member from Vanity Fair sits just off camera on the other side of the table.
"Y/N, Bruce, you were both brought here today to take a lie detector test. One of you will be hooked up onto the machine and the other will interview. Then you switch." She tells you. Both you and Bruce nod in understatement. "This is Judd, our polygraph operator." she introduce the man sitting off to the side.
You and Bruce both turn to him. Bruce gave him a greeting nod, you smiled and gave a small 'hello.'
"Who wants to be in the hot seat first?" the crew member asked.
You laugh nervously and turn to look at your husband and he looks at you.
"Is the hot seat the lying seat or the other one?" Bruce asked.
"This side is the test and also it's the truth seat." you tell him.
"Well then ladies first." Bruce says, which you gasp in shock.
You are getting hooked to the machine and are suddenly getting nervous. Judd, the lie detector operator, places your right arm on the table.
"Try not to move this arm too much." he told you.
A montage of setting up the lie detector starts to roll before the camera is on Bruce, now sitting opposite of you.
"My love…to calibrate the machine, I'm going to ask you some straight forward questions. Please answer honestly. Is your full name Y/N M/N Wayne?"
"Yes." you say.
"Are you 39 years old?"
Once again your eyes widen, "Didn't anyone tell you it was rude to ask a women her age?" Bruce just gives you a smug smile. "Yes." you finally answer with an eye roll.
"Are you about to take a polygraph exam?"
"Yes…everything I say feels like is a lie." you say then looked over at Judd. "Is it registering than I am?"
Judd shakes his head, "No, you're doing fine."
Bruce raised an eyebrow at you, "Are you nervous?"
"Well I wasn't before we arrived, but now being hooked up, I am. I guess I never realize how much I lie in life. Now I'm actively trying not to and it just feels wrong." you say.
"You lie more times than you think you do." Bruce stated.
Y/N Wayne Tells The Truth
Bruce reads off the first prompt, "You once told the Gotham Gazette that you feel like everyone hates you." you nod your head. "Do you still believe that?"
You nod your head again, "Yeah."
The camera switches back to Bruce, whose face had nothing but concern written on it.
"Why?" he said so quietly that it also didn't get picked up by audio.
"Um…I mean I don't know why anyone wouldn't have like some resentment towards me. You are like Gotham's baby, the prince of Gotham City. The city loved your parents and by extension you. Then here I come, a low-middle class girl from Star City, somehow got the playboy to settle down. I was living most Gotham girls fantasy and different from everyone else. So yeah I knew people hated me and I think some still do."
"I wouldn't trade you for anyone." Bruce stated.
"Awe you sap."
"Is the real reason you took the job to be my assistant because you secretly wanted to date me?"
"Really? That's the next question, even after what I just said?" you rolled your eyes, "No."
"She's telling the truth." Judd said.
"I truly had no idea who you were. I'm from the west coast, we didn't care about what was happening in the east. Which also if we are being honest…I think Alfred was looking for someone who didn't care who you were."
Judd nods, "Truth."
"Am I a good husband?" Bruce ask with a straight face.
You take a moment to answer, "Yes."
Judd shakes his head and Bruce tilts his head at you.
"What? No! You are you're a great husband…I will say though that you weren't a very good boyfriend, but I've had worst."
"That's the truth." Judd says.
"Okay so then follow up, what made me not that good of a boyfriend?"
"Well, there are two big things, but for legal reason…I can't say." you say.
"You went to the same high school as this person." Bruce slides over a picture of Oliver Queen.
You knit your eyebrows in confusion before realizing who it was, "Oh Ollie."
"Don't like how you said that…" Bruce mumble. "You dated during your senior year. Would you say that he was one of your worst that you were talking about?"
Your mouth twist as you looked at the picture, thinking hard. You opened your mouth to speak, but then retracted it.
"No." you finally say.
"That's a lie." spoke Judd.
Your jaw dropped as Bruce laughs a little, "What? I didn't lie. Sure he wasn't the best and he owns up to that…now at least. The ones in college though…" You make a face.
"Ones? Plural?"
"Oh, don't act like that…you practically had a new girlfriend every month according to Alfred."
"I already know the answer to this one," Bruce says and you give an offended look, "Do you look at fan accounts dedicated to you?"
You laugh, "I look at fan accounts dedicated to all of us. Especially ones about Dami."
Judd nods, "She's telling the truth."
You look into the camera, "I gotta make sure everyone is being respectful and appropriate about my baby."
"We see it all." Bruce comments.
"You make me watch a lot of reality TV." Bruce says.
"I don't make you, you enjoy it."
"Do you think we should have our own reality TV?"
You shake your head, "God no. We are kind of public enough, I don't need the world seeing into our home life."
"Truthful."
"If I asked to with hold information from a super villain to cover for me, would you?" Bruce makes a face.
"No." you say equally making the same face.
"I would never ask you to do that."
"I don't even think our kids would cover for you." you and Bruce both laugh. "Also, I've done that before…wouldn't recommend."
"Did you lie at any point of this interview and we didn't catch you?" Bruce asked.
"I think I was pretty truthful consider that fact that I felt what I was saying was all lies."
"My turn I guess." Bruce said tossing what he was reading off of behind him.
The camera cuts to now Bruce getting hooked up to the polygraph machine.
"Bruce, to calibrate the machine, I'm going to ask you some straight forward questions. Please answer honestly." you read off of a note pad. Bruce nods. "Is your full name Bruce Thomas Wayne?" you asked.
Bruce nods, "Yes."
"Are you from Gotham, New Jersey?"
"Yes."
"Are you about to take a lie detector test?"
Bruce smiles at you, "I suppose that I am. Yes."
You look toward Judd, the lie detector operator, "Good?"
"All good." Judd says back to you, and you turn your attention back to your husband.
Bruce Wayne Tells The Truth
"I feel like this is going to be boring because you generally don't really lie." you say.
"What? I lie to the press all the time…and our children." Bruce states.
"He's telling the truth." Judd says.
You look at him with wide eyes, "Honey, you can't say that."
Bruce shrugs, clearly not caring.
You look down at the paper the crew gave you. Pre-reading the first one, it makes you laugh.
"I'm already not liking this." Bruce admits.
"How often are you faking that you remember people at Galas from when you were a kid?" you ask.
Bruce doesn't hesitate to answer, "Oh, all the time."
"That's so bad." you say, "You're horrible."
Bruce shrugs again.
"The family group chat often talks about how hot this person is " you slide a picture of Clark Kent in front of Bruce.
"Oh no…" Bruce says already knowing where this was going.
"There is a part of the internet that is very dedicated on shipping you two together..,"
"Shipping?"
You gave your husband a deadpan look, "Don't try to act like you don't know what that is. I know Stephanie's explained it to you before."
Bruce chuckles.
"The two of you are seen pretty close with each other. So the question is would you leave me if Clark Kent declared his love for you?"
Bruce draws his lips into a thin line. Staring a the photo of Clark on the table, contemplating. Five minutes go by and you, on the other side of the table, look at your so call lover with with shock.
"Bruce this is a long time, goodness!"
Bruce shakes his head, "No, no I wouldn't leave you." You turn your head to Judd.
"Truth." said Judd, but you shake your head.
"I don't believe you. Would you leave me for Clark Kent?" you ask again.
"No." He said it clear with a stern voice.
You are narrowing your eyes at him as Judd tells you that Bruce was telling the truth.
"Before dropping out of Gotham University, you were dorm mates with Former District Attorney, Harvey Dent. Was he a good roommate?"
"I think we were both equally bad roommates…" Bruce said.
"Would you say that you are or were more successful than him?"
"Ohhh." Bruce made a face like that question psychically hurt him. You laugh at his reaction, "No absolutely not."
"Deceptive." Judd said, causing both you and Bruce to laugh.
"Oh well I already know the answer to this, but when was the last time you made a dinner reservation?" you laugh. Bruce makes a face that you couldn't describe. "Never." you said as you shook your head. "I don't think you ever have, Alfred does it for you."
"If I did and this was before you, I would just call and pretend to be my own assistant…" Bruce revealed.
"Well, you didn't have to," you told him laughing, "It was just something you chose to do."
"You're quite well know for your physique. What's your secret for staying so fit and or hydrated?"
Bruce thinks on how to answer, "I get wet when I…"
The camera cuts back to you. You are slightly shaking your head, trying not to laugh.
"No…say something else." you say. Bruce breaks into silent laughter. "Please say something else."
"What was the question again?" Bruce asked.
"What's your secret to staying so hydrated or fit?"
"I get wet when I-"
"NO!" you yell, "Bruce say it another way…" you tell him.
"I drink water? I work out almost everyday?" Bruce responds.
"There you go. Oh my god, Bruce." you say.
Bruce laughs at your panic expression.
"Moving on from whatever that was-"
"What I was trying to say-" Bruce began, cutting you off.
"NO! Honey, we're done." you say.
"We have a lot of kids." You state reading of the card, "Out of all of them, who is your favorite?"
"Are you trying to start a war?" Bruce ask.
"Not me, Vanity Fair."
"I don't have a favorite." Bruce claims.
"That's a lie." Judd tells you. You burst into laughter
"It varies week to week. Who ever runs my patients the least that week the is favorite."
"Truth." Judd says.
"So then who gets on your nerves the least?" Jason's voice said from somewhere off camera.
"Cassandra…and Duke."
Judd nods, "Truth."
"Are you the crime fighting vigilante known as Batman?"
Bruce sighs, "Am I going to get asked this every interview we do?"
"Answer the question, honey."
"No." Bruce declared.
Judd's face twitch a little, "Ask him again."
You let out a little surprise noise, "Did it not pick up?"
You lean forward looking into your husband's eyes. He was staring back at you, with a shit eating grin on his face.
"Are you Batman?" you ask again.
Bruce leans forward too, leaning into your eyes. You're enjoying this, he could tell.
"No." Bruce answered.
"He's telling the truth." Judd announced.
You fell back into the chairs, "We almost had him guys." you say referring to the people of the internet.
"Okay that was all the question. Did you lie at any point during this interview and we didn't catch you?"
Bruce nods, "Yes."
"True." Judd said.
You looked wide eye at your husband, "Are you serious?" Bruce smiles and nods. Mouth open with shock, "When?"
"I'm not going to say."
"Can I say what I think you lied about?" you smiled.
"What?"
"Leaving me for Clark Kent." you laughed.
1,1010 Comments
@ shootingforthestars
Bruce knew exactly what he was saying
@ littleotter13
"Is that the lying seat' bruce for you every seat is the lying seat
@ FemboyJackie1
She looks at the camera like she's in The Office
@ noname-kA17
the concept of the industry's biggest pathological liar taking a lie detector test.
@ DCalc12
Y/N Wayne taking about Blark was not on my checklist for 2026
@ harleendefender09
Whose out here hating on our queen???
more notes: can you guys guess what three lie detector test videos inspire this??
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bruce wayne x batmom!reader feat. (kid) dick grayson, and later the batkids.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it's dick's birthday, and there are differences between then and now.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mention of sick and dead parents, but mostly fluff, meet cute, later established relationship, 2.7k words, not proofread, let me know if I forgot something :p
𝐚/𝐧: totally forgot to post this two weeks ago (shame on me). anyways happy birthday to dick grayson/nightwing ♡
Bruce was really nervous about taking Dick to Haly's Circus, sure it was Dick's birthday and he really wanted to come but it was also his first birthday without his parents and Bruce didn't want to tigger something in Dick. But then, two weeks ago, he received a letter from Mr. Haly saying that the circus would be in Gotham and since it would be Dick's birthday by then, they all would be really happy to see him but they would understand if he couldn't visited and would send him a gift instead. Dick was so excited to see all his old friends again that Bruce couldn't say no, but he made Dick promise that when he felt uncomfortable he tell Bruce and they would drive home.
"Come on," Dick says, tugging on Bruce's sleeve and bringing the man out of his nervous state.
Bruce didn't have time to reply before Dick tugged at him again so he just gave him a small smile and tired to keep up with the boy.
"Mr. Haly!" Dick calls, letting go of Bruce to run to the man he hasn't seen in a long time.
Mr. Haly lets out a small grunt when Dick runs directly into a hug, making the man take a step back to try and hold balance. "You made it."
"Of course," Dick beams up at him. As if Dick would ever not come. He missed them all so much, sure it's pretty cool with Bruce but he really missed the life in the circus.
Bruce walks slowly towards them. He's sure everyone in a two meter radius could hear the exited ramble of the now nine-year-old.
"Mr. Wayne," Mr. Haly greets, letting go of Dick to shake Bruce's hand. "I'm really happy to see you again."
"Me too. It's been a long time."
"Yeah, we thought it'd be nice to make a short stop here in Gotham before we make our way to Metropolis."
Dick leans slightly against Bruce. He was already bored. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬? He doesn't want to talk about the weather or whatever other boring things adults talk about. He wants to go around and greet everyone, and he wants to go and greet Sitka, he missed his best friend. He couldn't wait to see her again. But he couldn't just go around without Bruce, sure he knows the people around here but he promised him to be within reach, so that if he would get overwhelmed he wouldn't be alone.
"And we have a surprise for Dick." Now that got his attention.
"What is it?" He looks between Mr. Haly and Bruce but the latter just shrugged at him. Bruce really didn't know what the surprise was.
Mr. Haly points to the tent with a knowing smirk. "Why don't you just go and see for yourself?"
Dick doesn't even reply to him but starts running in the direction of the tent before he stops to look at Bruce for permission. Bruce smiles at him and gives him a nod. And that's all the boy needs for running into the tent.
Dick stops when he's inside. It's been something over a year since he saw all of that and he feels an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦. But before he turns around, he sees a present lying on the floor, and his curiosity and excitement were bigger than this uncomfortable feeling.
He slowly approaches the box. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? Dick looks around and frowns. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦? Nobody was in the tent which is very weird. They all should be here and greet him, and above all, practice their performance.
His frown forms into a pout. But since he's already here, he can open his present. The boy opens the box happily but that turns into confusion pretty quickly. A note. All that's in the box are a few words written on a piece of paper.
Dick grabs the note. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮?
It did not.
So he finally reads what's written on the paper.
'𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘶𝘱!'
Dick frowns slightly but looks up anyway. There is a sign that reads: '𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵!'
He got really excited and looks to the right but there was nothing, except that this side of the tent was really dark.
𝘞𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢—
Dick's thoughts are interrupted when a spotlight on the ground turns on and illuminates the dark side of the tent. The birthday boy blinks a few times to adjust his eyes to the new brightness. And then he blinked a few times more because he couldn't fully grasp what he saw. Standing in front of him were all the people he missed so much: Sando the Strongman who played tug-of-war with him, Waldo and Harry—the funniest clowns he ever met, Palmer the juggler, and many many more.
A big smile stretches on Dick's face when he runs forward to greet everyone.
🎂🦇⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🐘🎪
"Have you had fun so far?" Bruce asks, helping Dick clean his face—how the boy got more cotton candy on his face rather than in his mouth was beyond him.
"Yes!" Dick says, putting another piece of cotton candy in his mouth. "This day couldn't be better."
"I have something that would make the day even better," says Mr. Haly.
Dick stares at the man with wide eyes. "What is it?"
"It's not a what, but a who?"
"Who?" Dick frowns, "everyone is here."
"𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?" This voice. Dick knew this voice. But it couldn't be, could it?
The boy turns slowly around before he lets go of his candy in complete shock. 𝘠𝘰𝘶. It was really you. Dick hadn't seen you in over two years and now you stood before him. Tears welled up in his eyes and with a soft whimper of your name he starts to run in your direction.
You squat down when Dick is near you to give him a better hug. He's bigger than the last time you saw him but in this position you could hold him tighter against you.
"Hi, my little robin," you whisper in his hair, trying to speak around the lump that formed in your throat. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," he whispers.
You smile to yourself before you lean back and cup his face in your hands to get a better look at him. It's been so long since you last saw him.
You worked and lived in the circus your whole life, so you knew Dick since he was a newborn. His parents and you even had a performance together. But then your mother got sick and you took a break to look after her, and when she died you needed time to heal. A few months ago you decided to return, and that's when you learned about John and Mary's deaths. Mr. Haly told you everything about it and that he didn't want to burden you with this matter as well, but all you could think about was Dick and the mysterious but kind man who took him in.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me," you wipe some of the boy's tears with your thumbs away. This was something you'll probably never forgive yourself for.
Dick sniffs before he starts to wipe your tears away as well. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘺?
"It's fine," he says when a big smile stretched out on his face, "you're here now."
"I am."
"Come on, I have to introduce you to someone."
He took your hand when you stood to your full size again, walking with you to a man around your age. He was dressed in only black but he had a soft smile on his lips when he looked at Dick.
"You okay, chum?" The man asks when you stand in front of him. Dick nods his head, and starts to introduce you to the man you assumed took him in.
"It's really nice to meet you Mr. Wayne." You say with a soft voice and smile, stretching your hand out.
But the man only looked at you with wide eyes. You knew you looked probably like a total mess right now with your red and swollen eyes, but it was kinda rude of him to just stare at you.
Luckily for you, Dick felt the same way.
"Bruce?" the boy whispers, "you're being rude."
Dick was completely confused by the way Bruce acted. He was always polite to everyone, even tho those he didn't like, so him acting like this was very weird and confusing to Dick. But he was even more confused when Bruce starts to blink his eyes a few times, like he was trying to wake himself up and a slightly rose colour blossomed on his cheeks and ears.
"Yeah, I-I'm sorry," Bruce says, shaking your hand softly, "nice to meet you as well, and please call me Bruce." 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘊𝘒? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨.
To his luck you just smile sweetly at him.
🎂🦇⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🐘🎪
"Wait," Damian says, his voice sharp and his hand stretched out to signal his oldest brother to stop talking, "you're really trying to tell us father is terrible at flirting?"
"Yeah," Tim nods, "he's Bruce Wayne, when he doesn't have game who does?"
"True," Jason mutters. He can't believe he just agreed with the younger boys. "But it's also dad, and we know how he is around ma," he continues, seeing that everyone agrees with him on that matter. "What I don’t understand is why you’re telling us this story?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
"No."
"Negative."
"Only to you, dickhead."
"It’s the reason why the front seat should go to me!" Dick says, looking down at his brothers who sat down on the edge of the roof they were currently waiting for their father and the Batmobile.
"That's a stupid reason," Jason scoffs, taking his phone out to reply to a stupid meme Roy sent him two hours ago.
"I kinda understood the point in you being...," Damian begins before he turns his head to Jason, "what did you call him?"
"𝘈𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵," Jason says with a smirk, still looking at his phone.
"AnCiEnT?!"
"Right," Damian completely ignores Dick, "I kinda understood the reason you need the front seat because your 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵, and therefore you have poor bones and other things that old people get."
"I'M NOT THAT OLD!"
Damian gives Dick a dismissing hand before he continues, "but what is the point in you telling us the story on how our parents meet for the first time?"
"Hey, I'm Richard," Dick says, stretching his hand out, "𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮!"
"Nah," Tim shakes his head, "we have her because dad is very charming."
"He wasn't when I introduced them," Dick grits out, "his voice literally CRACKED!"
"Who's voice cracked?" The deep voice of his father makes Dick freeze for a few seconds.
"According to dickhead over here, yours."
"My voice didn't crack, my throat was just dry."
"And what about your red face?"
"It was really hot that day."
"Hot?" Dick asks in disbelief, looking more confused when Bruce nods. "A hot day in Gotham? In March?"
Bruce just rolls his eyes before he directed his next question to all his children, "did you figured out who's getting the front seat?"
"I'm the reason you have a wife."
"I died so y'all own me something."
"I'm to tired for this shit but I took down the most guys, so it's only fair I get the front seat."
"Father, I should get the front seat because—"
"You're not the 'Superior Robin'," Dick, Jason, and Tim shout at the same time to which Damian just scoffs.
Bruce groans in annoyance. "Dick get in the front seat, everybody else goes in the back." Did he really think that would sit right with everyone besides Dick?
"Seriously?"
"Old people privileges I guess."
"Father, you can't be really—"
"Enough," Bruce says in a stern voice (but it's his stern dad voice, not his stern Batman voice, and yes the dad voice has a better effect), "it's Dick's Birthday so he gets the front seat. End of discussion."
With that he makes his way to get finally to the Batmobile, mumbling a quiet, "do you have any idea what your mother would do to me if we were late to Dick's surprise party?"
"Surprise party?!" 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.
"I'm sure that whatever ma would have done to you is less harmful than what she'll do to you when she finds out you've just spoiled the surprise party to her '𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯'," Jason laughs when he claps his father on the shoulder, moving to the fire escape to wait in The Batmobile. If he has to sit in the back, then at least he should sit by the window.
"I guess your side of the bed goes to me tonight," Damian says with little satisfied smile before he frowns when he noticed that Tim was in the back as well, which means he has to sit in the middle. Again.
"I'm really sorry, Dicki," Bruce apologies, seeing the pout on his eldest son (some things just never change).
"It's fine," he responds, making his way to the fire escape as well before turning back towards Bruce. "I don’t tell mom, but you own me one and I don’t know what's worser for you."
Bruce just chuckles, following Dick down to the car where he can hear the other three arguing again.
🎂🦇⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🐘🎪
"Some little birdie told me you spoiled the surprise party," you say to your husband who was about to hand you a drink.
Bruce narrows his eyes. "It was Damian, wasn't it? The little traitor, just wants to sleep on my side of the bed."
You chuckle, grabbing the drink from your husband. "Wrong bird."
"Well," now he has to think about it, "it wasn't Dick 'cause I own him one now."
You take a sip from your drink and shake your head. You absolutely love the look on Bruce's face when he was deep in thought. "It was the idiot bird."
"It was me," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you didn't know, so you tested me, and I just told you myself."
"Your pretty smart for an idiot," you snort, giving his cheek a kiss before you lean closer to his ear. "You're in so much trouble."
"I know," he whispers back, but you could hear the smile on his face. "But we still have guests here, so you'll be nice to me."
His arms wrap around your waist before he starts peppering your face with kisses. Bruce always does this when he knows that your angry with him. He does this to try and charm his way out of trouble. Did it ever work? No. Does he still do it because he loves your giggle? Absolutely.
You try to gently push his face away from yours when he starts nuzzling his nose against yours but to no avail. So you wrap your arms around his neck and peck the corner of his mouth.
A disgusted sound appears next to you so you turn your head and see Dick's frowning face.
"Can you please not be this disgustingly sweet on my birthday?"
You look from your boy to your husband with a mischief smirk, and when he nods you turn back to your boy. "You're right, sweetheart. We shouldn't be disgustingly sweet on your birthday."
Bruce nods along to your words, letting you go in favour to grab Dick. The last thing you see on his face is the terrifying look that dawns on him when he realises what your plan is.
"We can be disgustingly sweet with you," you say, sandwiching Dick between you and Bruce.
"That's so embarrassing," he whispers, looking around to try and find one of his brothers. "Jason! Please help me."
"Oh, I'm helping," Jason says, going around you three to take pictures of this f̶u̶n̶n̶y̶ sweet moment.
Dick turns his head in another direction. "Tim?"
"Busy, helping Jason," he says, turning the flashlight on his phone on for better lightning.
Hope shines in Dick's eyes when his gaze lands on his youngest brother who is on his way to get himself another drink. The birthday boy is smart this time and doesn't ask Damian for help, instead he grabs the younger boy and pulls him into the hug.
"Let go of me old man," Damian scoffs.
"I AM NOT THAT OLD!"
You laugh at the bickering of your boys, and then even more when you got an idea, looking your husband in the eyes.
𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝟣 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸:
"Have I ever told you the story on how much the voice of your father 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 when we first met?"
There was one thing that the goons in Gotham didn’t fully understand. If you attempt to kidnap a Wayne kid, don’t call their mom. She doesn’t like to bullshit with people, especially when it’s about her kids. She’s not gonna let a goon ask for ransom, she’ll personally find them and deliver an ass whooping. Apparently these goons that kidnapped Duke didn’t receive that message.
“I really suggest not to call my mama. She ain’t as sweet as the publishers make her out to be. Well she is, but not when there’s something bad happening to us” he tried warning the goons as the phone rang on speaker.
“Who the hell is playing on my phone?” you answer.
“We have your son” the bald goon spoke
“Which one? I got five” you asked irritated.
“What’s your name kid?” the tattooed goon asked Duke.
“Hi mama” Duke says loud enough for you to hear. Your response was a groan, and they heard some shuffling on your end.
“Hey baby, I’m on my way” you say hanging up the phone, not giving the goons any room to ask for ransom.
For the next thirty minutes the goons tried to talk about what they were going to do when you walk through the doors. If you could even find them, which made Duke chime in.
“You guys are screwed” he laughs.
“We aren’t scared of a woman kid” the bald one scoffs. The door to the warehouse opens loudly, and there you are in your sweats and a hoodie holding one of Jason’s guns pointing it at the goons.
“Let my son go” you said politely walking up to them knowing that Duke has most likely been free of his restraints by now.
“Did you bring the money?” the tattooed one asked.
“You idiots didn’t even ask for money. But since you aren’t moving to free my son. I hope y’all move fast enough to call an ambulance.” You deadpan.
“For who lady? You?” they asked laughing, but that laughter turned into screams after two gunshots rang through the warehouse.
“Yourselves” you say shrugging putting the gun in your tote bag. You turn to Duke “I know you broke free a while ago. Let’s go home” you say sticking your hand out. He grabs it pulling you in for a hug.
“Love you mama” he says squeezing you, “Also I warned them about calling you” he says laughing.
“Love you too baby” you said laughing at what he told you. The drive home he talked to you about his day up until his kidnapping, when you made it back to the manor everyone was standing in the foyer.
“Where were you?” Bruce asked walking up to you.
“Saving Duke” you reply smiling.
“I told them not to call her” Duke says making the others laugh. You pulled out the gun handing it back to Jason while everyone was laughing. That stopped everyone from laughing to look at you confused.
“They’re alive, just both have a bad knee now” you shrug heading upstairs, “I’m going to finish my nap” you said looking over your shoulder.
Hey everyone! Long time no see🫣. I’m trying something new for once cause I’m so jealous of other ppl’s blog and their cutesy themes. I used canva for the pics but if you have recommendations (especially for like those sparkly gif separators) please put it in my ask! I beg of thee.🙏🏾 also, how do y’all add more text options to your post? Cause I see people with really small text when I be reading on mobile. Is that only a website option? Also also I’m thinking of making this a series. Not necessarily one with a plot per se, or at least not yet??? I guess just a bunch of scenarios that happen in one universe? Also the description I put in it was just some characters that didn’t have matching aesthetics so there was variety in how you or your oc may or may not look.
~*~*~
Summary: Everyone knew Bruce Wayne was married. But to who? Yeah, no one knew that. All they have to go by are the slips the children and teens close to Waynes let out. Just who is Mrs. Wayne?
Wc: 2k
Warnings: Not proofread. Mention of character death. Mention of Jason’s death.
The wife of Bruce Wayne was expected to be shrouded with mystery, glamour, and elegance. Or at least that’s what the public was expecting her to be. Especially since she was never really seen in public. There was so much speculation on who she could be, who she is, and what she’s like. Nobody really knew anything about her, aside from the stuff Bruce’s, and assumingly her, adoptive children would let slip.
The first was Dick Grayson, both in adoption and obviously slippage. He was a fresh teen and already known for his laidback attitude and charming smile. So charming and charismatic it had many gossip mongers writing tabloids speculating whether or not this child Bruce Wayne adopted was really only an adopted child and not some secret love child.
He was Bruce’s plus one for yet another high society gala. The young teen had a large smile on his face as smile for camera while following his adoptive father. Cameras, flashing lights, and microphones all in his face.
“Richard! Richard! Over here! What’s it like being the son of Bruce Wayne and the mysterious woman who tamed him?”
This caught his attention as he stopped and chuckled, a boyish grin on his face as he finally looked directly at a camera. “Tamed? Oh no- Y/- I mean Mrs. Wayne is probably worse than him. Just nicer. Like wayyyy nicer!”
Bruce scoffed to hide his own chuckle and smile as he turned to look at the younger man who was falling behind to call out in a firm dad-like voice. “Dick.”
Dick glanced away from the paparazzi and tabloids to look at Bruce. And instead of feeling intimidated he just smiled wider and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, clearly gesturing to Bruce. “See what I mean?”
Then there was Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, Barbara Gordon. She was interning with her father, working behind the scenes for an upscale art gallery’s charity event CCTV security team, despite being a teen. Bruce Wayne was one of the primary sponsors, of course, his name stamped across every plaque, his presence commanding the attention of every camera, every whisper, every expensive glass of champagne. Barbara, already finished networking with the elites, was in the camera room, two other people with her, observing the security feed.
“Hey, kid, you’ve worked closely with the Wayne’s right? With him and your pops being acquaintances and all. What’s Mrs. Wayne like?” an older man asked, the only man in the room. “Like is charming and charismatic? Or intimidating and cool?”
Barbara froze mid-click of her mouse. Maybe she should’ve brushed it off, said she didn’t know, or that it wasn’t her business to tell. But since Dick had something before she assumed there was no harm in just being a little open.
“She’s..” Barbara glanced behind her to the door where her father had just stepped out. “She’s not what people think she is.”
“Meaning?”
“She’s…” she hesitated once more before a soft smile spread across her face, clearly remembering something. “The only person that can make Bruce Wayne stop what he’s doing or saying mid sentence with such little effort. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do that for anyone else, just her.”
It was innocent enough. Harmless, she thought. But what she didn’t see was the ways her co-workers’ expression shifted. By the next morning, headlines exploded across Gotham Gazette and The Daily Chronicle:
“WHO IS MRS. WAYNE? THE WOMAN WHO COMMANDS BRUCE WAYNE’S SILENCE.”
‘Even Mr. Wayne listens when she speaks,’ says insider Barbara Gordon.
Barbara hadn’t technically said that — but it didn’t matter.
Next was Jason Todd, and much like Dick he was a happy kid, only he didn’t care much for secrets. And all it took was what should’ve been just a simple parent teachers conference, for the world to know she was a black woman. Jason sat next to Bruce, slurping away at medium sized slushee, as the one of the teachers at Gotham Prep looked between the two.
“And where’s Mrs. Wayne if you don’t mind me asking? Shouldn’t she be here?” One of the teachers asked, unable to hide their confusion and disappointment.
“At home.” Bruce answers calmly, as if he was expecting these types of questions.
“But she should be here. This is a mandatory parent teacher conference. She had to be here as well.” Another said, clearly about to lose their patience over something so small.
“My mama says the only thing she gotta do is be black and die.” Jason said without even looking up as he moved the straw around in his slurpee, trying to break the ice down so he wasn’t only drinking the juice. The art and science teachers, a black woman and man respectively, both barely holding in their laughter at the familiar phrase. Bruce could only pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.
They didn’t even make it home before his phone was vibrating with tweets, emails, and text messages.
#MrsWayneIsBlack was trending in a matter of minutes across all forms of social media. The responses were all over the place some happy to know that a black woman was living her best life. Others less than happy to know that their prince of Gotham was married to a black woman. They didn’t even know who she was and yet she was getting the Meghan Markle treatment. The people hating on her probably only upset that she’s not what they thought she’d be. Claiming Bruce Wayne was either being blackmailed by her or marrying a charity case for PR purposes.
Jason had no idea what he started after Bruce got off the phone with his PR team and lawyers.
Jason only looked up from his book and slushee when Bruce’s phone went off for what felt like the hundredth time in under five minutes. “Uhh.. we in trouble or something?”
Bruce only exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his face straight. On one hand, he thought the situation was funny, but on the other, he could already picture the storm that is yet to come and it made him mad. “No Jay. Not we.”
“Oh.” Jason blinked. “So… you’re in trouble.”
That earned him a look, not angry, but whatever the look was, it did have a hint. The kind of look that said Bruce was already calculating damage control, and punishment. Jason sank back into his seat, slurping his drink a little quieter after that.
By the time Tim Drake came along, the world had already developed an obsession with you. Every few months, someone thought they’d cracked the code —publishing grainy, overexposed photos of a woman stepping out of a black town car, or a shadowed profile beside Bruce Wayne at some long-forgotten fundraiser. None of them were you, of course. But that didn’t make the fantasy any less alive, especially not for Gotham.
But after Jason’s death, everything changed, and Bruce stopped showing up to galas and events the way he used to. It got to the point that Wayne Enterprises began sending spokespeople in his place. The man who had once smiled for every camera had turned into a recluse.
And so the tabloids wrote their own narrative instead of allowing a father to grieve in peace.
They said grief had consumed him. That Mrs. Wayne had “retreated into mourning beside him.” Some suggested that her and Bruce were going through a messy divorce, unable to handle the grief, others that you had never existed to begin with, a convenient placeholder created to explain the holes in his glamorous image and lifestyle. And Tim’s sudden adoption was like damage control. Tim was smart, bright, and articulate. What he lacked in charisma like Dick and Jason he made up for in grace and etiquette. He wasn’t a heartthrob like Dick or a ray of sunshine like Jason, but Gotham loved him none the less. Soon the quiet young boy became Bruce’s ward and protégé, and unofficially his heir.
It was during a scholarship event, made to help children, teens, and young adults afford schooling and give grants to their schools as well, where his slip occurred. If it could even be considered a slip. Reporters were obviously curious, as was the rest of the world about this new boy in the Wayne’s lives. About how they were handling their loss. But mostly about the woman they still have yet to see officially.
“Mr. Drake,” one journalist began, “you’ve been seen accompanying Bruce Wayne quite a lot lately. Does Mrs. Wayne ever come to these events with you two? Or better yet does she even go outside? Is she real?”
Tim froze for a moment, not out of fear, but uncertainty. He was used to lying, and had no problem doing it to these vultures. But this topic was different, especially since Bruce told him the rule when it came to these type of invasive questions.
“No, she does not come to these events. And yes she’s real.” he said finally, his tone even and polite, but most importantly calm. With practiced precision. “She just doesn’t really like the spotlight. I think she prefers… quieter spaces.”
The reporter tilted their head. “So she really is still around? Are she and Mr. Wayne still married?”
Tim showed a strained smile, that careful, too-thoughtful type of uncomfortable smile of someone who hadn’t yet learned how to dodge invasive questions. “Of course. She’s the only one who can really get through to him.”
That should’ve been the end of it. But something in him told him he needed to be clear, decisive, enough to satisfy them.
“She keeps him grounded,” he continued, his voice softening as though speaking to himself more than anyone else. “After Jason- I mean, after… everything that happened, she’s been the reason he still gets up in the morning. They need each other now more than ever. The way I see it, who better to understand the loss of a child than someone who lost the same thing?”
At the mention of Jason, the young boy who was murdered, the silence that surrounded Tim became deafening.
The last one was Stephanie Brown. She was lighthearted, talkative, and too comfortable saying whatever came to mind, a habit that had already made her a favorite among the younger Wayne Foundation volunteers. But reminded the older volunteers of another. When she joined Tim for a youth outreach interview with Gotham Insider, she hadn’t planned to say anything worth printing. The conversation was supposed to focus on scholarship programs, mentorship, and Wayne Enterprises’ charity work. Simple. Clean. Safe.
Right?
Just when they thought they were just about done with interviews a person stood up. The interviewer, a woman notorious for steering small talk into scandal, leaned forward with a smile that was all teeth. “You’ve both spent plenty of time at Wayne Manor. Be honest, what’s it like living with Bruce Wayne? Being trusted to help with such important projects? And what about the ever-elusive Mrs. Wayne? Does she even exist?”
Tim froze mid-sip of his black tea, eyes darting toward the camera. He was about to redirect, but Stephanie had already laughed.
“Oh, she’s real, alright,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Trust me. You’d know if she wasn’t.”
The interviewer’s brows lifted. “Oh? So what does she look like? And what’s she like?”
Stephanie leaned back in her chair, smiling brightly. “Look wises. Think… I don’t know… maybe Mortician Addams, Betty Boop, and maybe Velma. All in one, and well, black. Personality wise…She’s like… you know that one mom friend who’s super nice, the one everyone loves and would die for, but will absolutely ruin your life if you mess with someone she loves? That’s her. Sweetest woman alive—unless you touch what’s hers.”
Tim coughed sharply beside her, muttering something under his breath that sounded like a warning, “Steph…”
But it was too late. The cameras were still running. By that evening, social media had descended into chaos.
“MRS. WAYNE: THE SWEETHEART WITH A SCARY SIDE.”
‘The nicest woman alive—unless you cross her,’ says Stephanie Brown.
When Bruce saw the headline, he didn’t laugh. He said nothing. Didn’t scold. Didn’t comment. Just folded the paper once, precisely, and set it down on the table beside him.
Then, quietly:
“Stephanie, you and Tim won’t be giving any more interviews for a while.”
Tim only sighed and slumped in his chair, placing his tea cup down while Stephanie pouted.
Battinson head cannons about anything and everything ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
BATTINSON HEADCANNON
okay so I’m sooo sososos sorry for despairing im in college and also had lots of work buttt im back y’all this time fr! im doing all the requests i can! enjoy this little headc
• so we already know that Bruce is a mess as a boyfriend, he’s a depressed guy trying to save Gotham City, fighting constantly and honestly, paying more attention for it than your relationship.
• but you know that you’re still his number one priority.
• he’d learn your way back to your apartment before you started living with him. he’d watch you from the rooftop of whatever building was near, lowkey psycho.
• when y’all started living together, he’d be way more comfortable.
• yes, he’s obsessed with you, he just doesn’t know how to show it, at all.
• he knows your full Starbucks order, and the small, cozy coffee shop you like a lot.
• Bruce would drive all the way there to get your order.
• oh, making sure Alfred knows your order too so when he’s not home, Alfred can doordash your coffee.
• she likes it sugar free, alfred.”
• communication was not good. you’d beg for Bruce to talk, but when he actually does, he doesn’t stop.
• you might be the only person that has listened to Bruce talk about cars, about his parents for hours.
• as depressed he can be, he’s a funny guy, he’d get you laughing when he’s telling you how shy he was —still—in highscool.
• he loved being around you.
• Bruce loved your vainilla smell, loved the combination of your smell when you were walking down the stairs to have breakfast with him.
• “we made french toast, baby”
• Bruce who was a gentleman not matter how many times have you been around him. no matter how many dates y’all have had, he’s a full gentleman.
• he opens the door. always.
• of course, he’s a provider.
• Bruce doesn’t care about his money. you want a designer dress? then you’ll have it.
• he fully gives you his credit card and allows you to get whatever you want.
• even though you don’t like the idea of the freedom he gave you, maybe that Dior bag it’s yours now.
• okay maybe you’d shop a little too much, even alfred encourages you to do it, knowing that you definitely feel guilty afterwards, cooking for Alfred, dory and bruce.
• but honestly Alfred loves you.
• loves that since you started dating bruce, he stopped being so depressed and emo.
18+
• sex was vainilla at the beginning. but damn after he feels comfortable…
• he’s dominant.
• but deep deep down he loves when you put your hands on his neck and talk through it.
• he was a messy whimpering man when he was on top of you, with ur leg in his shoulder and his hand on your jaw making you look at him moan.
• “you like that baby?”
• oh he’s so sensitive too.
• he’d be so shy every morning after all those nights.
• of course some nights y’all agree to contact lenses staying on.
• maybe he was too stressed and you were at your job so he, completely nervous would watch your videos.
• your desperate moans drives him insane every time.
• quickies. every time in his cave.
• you’d tease him in almost every event you’re with him, whispering in his ear, asking him to go to the bathroom. you’d honestly dream about it, but still, always respecting his limits, always knowing when to stop.
• never pushing limits.
• being honest, he dreams about it too. nervous and all, but really debating if he should do it. he’d love to see your flustered face, your hand-covered moans, and your dress all the way up your hips. feeling the adrenaline in his body.
• maybe one day he’ll do it.
• Bruce Wayne who only smile and laugh around you.
a/n: heyyyyyy. how y'all doin'? anyways. i will be reuploading various of my old fics, as well as writing new ones in preparation for the batman part 2.
here is the one that started it all! pls lmk your thoughts <3
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(not my gif)
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“Mrs. Wayne?”
You glanced at the bedroom door from where you were standing in front of the vanity, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
“Come in, Dory.”
The door opened, and Dory walked in, shutting the door softly behind her.
“I was just checking to see if you were doing alright. You’ve been in here all day.” She smiled at you, which you returned as you fiddled with your bracelet, which had come undone.
“I’m okay. I’m just trying to put this bracelet back on. I’m actually about to go see what Alfred is doing as soon as I’m done here.” You chuckled.
The bracelet in question did not seem to want to cooperate with you; in fact, it seemed to taunt you by slipping from your wrist as you managed to almost hook the claw onto the other side, causing you to grit your teeth as you fumbled with it.
By the fifth try, you were ready to call it quits when Dory approached you, taking the bracelet from your hands quietly.
“Let me.” She said softly, and you held your wrist out. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence as she fastened your bracelet, then took a few steps back.
“Thanks, Dory. Usually, Bruce helps me with this, but…” You trailed off, gesturing towards the door.
Dory smiled, an understanding look on her face.
“It’s quite all right, dear. You’re not the one who’s been having some trouble. I heard that Bruce had trouble with his cufflinks earlier, but didn’t want help.”
You swallowed, a (petty) part of you feeling a little better knowing that Bruce was struggling too. The other part of you, however, ached because Bruce was struggling too.
“It’s normal, right? To have arguments with your spouse?” You asked quietly after a moment of silence, looking at yourself in the mirror as you remembered the argument you and Bruce had the previous night.
Full of scathing words and frustrated looks, it had ended with you walking out of the terminal, and Bruce watching with a defeated look on his face.
“It is. But this is just something that you will overcome. A bump in the road. It may not seem like it now, but everything will be just fine. Mr. Wayne loves you too much to let this argument be the end of your marriage.” Dory reassured you, patting your arm before excusing herself and leaving the room.
You remained there for a few moments, taking in what Dory said before walking out of the room, bracing yourself just in case you ran into Bruce.
It will be all right. You thought as you closed the door behind you.
Everything will be okay.
–
Everything was not okay.
You paced the hospital hallway, waiting for the doctor to step out of Alfred’s room.
Did Dory manage to get a hold of Bruce? You would have to call her and ask her as soon as you received any news about Alfred. Sighing, you sat down on one of the chairs, pulling your phone out to text Bruce just in case.
“Mrs. Wayne?” A nurse approached you, a sympathetic look in her eyes. You smiled weakly at her as a greeting, putting your phone away and immediately standing up.
“I need you to please come with me to fill out some paperwork. Will it just be you visiting the patient?”
“My husband should be arriving soon.” You murmured as you walked to the nurses’ station with the nurse, clutching the jacket you were wearing closer to you.
“Okay. It’s not a lot of paperwork. Usually, we have the patient fill it out, but if they can’t, then we have their family member or emergency contact do it for them.” She explained, going behind the station to get a clipboard and the paper from the printer. “It’s mostly his medical history, so we know what we can work with.”
She handed you the paperwork and pen.
“Just fill it out, and bring it back to me when you’re finished.”
You thanked her and walked back to the small waiting area you passed on your way. Sitting down, you filled out what you knew, wishing that Bruce was beside you to help you with it.
You took the paperwork back to the nurses’ station after double-checking to make sure what you had filled out was correct. The nurse who helped you looked up as you approached her.
“I filled out what I knew, but my husband should be here soon. He should know the rest.” You said, handing her the items.
“That is quite all right, Mrs. Wayne. We’ll get Mr. Wayne to fill out the rest when he arrives.” She reassured you, and you nodded, thanking her.
Then your phone rang, and you ran your hands through your hair as you excused yourself quietly to take the call.
–
“We’ve sedated him. We just have to hope he stabilizes.” The doctor informed Bruce as she stepped out of Alfred’s hospital room.
Bruce said nothing. He had arrived a few moments after you had excused yourself to take the phone call, and, after filling out the rest of the paperwork, the nurse gave him, had walked over to stand in front of Alfred’s room waiting for news.
“You should go home, Mr. Wayne. Get some sleep. Your wife, too. Is there anyone else to notify? Next of kin?” She continued.
Bruce paused and turned his head to glance at the doctor, thinking. The only ones who were there for Alfred was himself and Y/N.
“No. Just Y/N and I.” He said, turning back to look at Alfred through the window - not bothering to mention that he was Alfred’s emergency contact.
The doctor nodded and was about to say something else– but was interrupted by footsteps approaching.
Bruce looked up to see you walking towards them, your phone pressed against your ear. He felt some tension leave him as he sighed quietly, the sight of you unharmed and safe bringing him some comfort.
“-I’m just waiting to hear what the doctor says before I head back.” As you got closer, he noticed that the jacket you were wearing looked big on you- it was his jacket, he realized a moment later, how your eyes were red from crying, and how your hair was disheveled from you running your hands through it- something you would do when you were worried or nervous.
“Okay. Both Bruce and the doctor are here. I’ll see you soon, Dory. Be safe.” You hung up and placed your phone in your pocket before looking up. “I am so sorry Doctor, I had to fill out some paperwork, and then I got a call and I had to take it–” You shook your head, glancing briefly at Bruce, who had not taken his eyes away from you, before asking, “How is Alfred doing? Is he okay?”
“We sedated him, now we’re just waiting to see if he stabilizes.” The doctor repeated what she told Bruce, and you nodded along. “I was just telling Mr. Wayne that he should go home and get some sleep–”
“I can stay with Alfred.” You offered, wrapping your jacket closer to you to block out the cold of the hospital.
“Mrs. Wayne, that goes for you, too. You both need to get some rest. We will notify you if there are any changes.”
With that, she excused herself, leaving you alone with Bruce in the hallway.
You ran a hand through your hair, turning your head to look at Alfred through the window. Your heart hurt, seeing the man you considered as a father lying there, injured.
“Y/N.” Bruce spoke in a gentle tone, causing you to look at him. His eyes bore into yours. “What happened?”
You looked away from the intensity of his gaze, your eyes flickering from the floor to Alfred and back again to the floor, not knowing how to start.
It was the first conversation the two of you were since the argument the night before, after all. Do you apologize, or…?
“We were talking,” You started quietly. “He was about to start sorting the mail, and I thought it would be nice to make some sandwiches to eat while we waited for you to get home. So I went to the kitchen-”
You didn’t notice your hands were trembling slightly until you felt larger ones taking a hold of them. Your eyes widened as you looked up, and your first instinct was to pull away, but you realized that it was just Bruce.
“I had just taken out the condiments when I heard the explosion. I-” You took a deep breath. “I ran to where Alfred was and saw him on the floor. I had Dory call the ambulance while I pulled him to safety.”
His thumb started tracing soothing circles on your left hand, which calmed you down a bit. You glanced from the floor to your joined hands, then to Bruce.
“The ambulance arrived before the police did. They almost didn’t let me ride with Alfred. I only had time to grab a jacket- the closest one I could find. And I told Dory to call you and tell you what happened. When we got here, the doctors took him and they’ve been trying to stabilize him ever since.” With that, you trailed off and let out a deep sigh.
The two of you stayed quiet for a few heartbeats.
Bruce did not let go of your hands, even as he turned his head to look at Alfred.
“I tried to get there as quickly as I could.” After I found out was left unsaid. “The police and firefighters were in the Tower when I got there.”
“Did the police tell you what it was?” You asked, although you had a pretty good idea who was the culprit of all this.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed, dark with anger.
“It was a package intended for me. The Riddler sent it.” He clenched his jaw as he looked away from Alfred to the floor. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds until he lifted his gaze to you.
He looked like he wanted to say something, if the intense look in his eyes was any indication.
“We should go.” He finally said, letting go of one of your hands. He looked frustrated with himself. “You need to get some sleep.”
He needed to get some sleep too, you thought as you walked beside him to the elevators that would take you to the 1st floor of the hospital, past the waiting room and the nurses’ station.
He did not let go of your hand until the two of you had reached his car.
Bruce opened the passenger door for you and waited until you were seated before closing the door and walking over to the driver’s side. You buckled in your seat belt and bit back a yawn as he got in, buckling in his own seat belt and turning on the ignition.
The car purred to life, and Bruce made quick work of pulling the car out of the parking garage. You swallowed, looking at the window to the passing scenery outside.
You let out a deep sigh. Bruce glanced at you as he stopped at a red light.
“Are you okay?” He asked. You nodded, searching for words to say, but nothing came to mind.
As the light turned green and Bruce pressed on the gas gently, you rested your lower left arm on the middle console of the car, and rested your chin on your right hand, as if you were thinking.
Then you felt it - his hand moving to rest on top of yours - tentatively, as if he were afraid you would pull away. You smiled.
Wordlessly, you moved your hand so your palm was facing upwards, your fingers brushing against his.
Bruce then intertwined his fingers with yours, and gave it a squeeze, which you returned with a small, hidden smile.
A silent apology between the two of you - not the one either of you wanted to give - the two of you had a lot to talk about, and the hospital or car was simply not the place to do so - but it was a start.
As he lifted your hand to his lips and murmured a quiet ‘I love you’, you realized that what Dory had told you that morning was true.
