#bruce wayne fluff

[lucylockets]

The Bat is in love! … with Mrs. Wayne?

summary: in which the Justice League notice that Batman is infatuated with Bruce Wayne’s wife, and need to help him get over her (impossible)

pairing: husband!bruce wayne/batman x wife!reader

warnings: none? maybe mentions of slight violence. fluff.

a/n: inspired by this fic by @ilianasbruce

dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST part two!

it started when batman and superman were at the watchtower together.

they were doing their own work silently, at opposite ends of the table.

superman was pretending that he wasn’t secretly writing an article for the daily planet that was due within the week (that he had completely forgotten about), and batman was pretending that he wasn’t secretly texting his wife under the table.

bruce: how is the opera, my love? i’m sorry i couldn’t be there, the league has demands.

a lie. he just had a headache earlier and felt like jumping out of a window at the thought of having to put on a smile for the folk and sit through an opera. he did feel guilty about you being on your own, though.

you: it’s alright. i actually know some people here, and they aren’t all bad, bruce.

bruce: you say that now, but wait until they each give you a rundown on each car in their garage.

you: like how you give me a rundown on each gadget you come up with in the batcave?

bruce: that’s different.

you: of course it is. i actually like listening to you.

the familiar ‘ping!’ of one of batman’s gadgets interrupted the silence.

superman looked up, eager to be doing something other than whatever paper in front of him that he wasn’t even focusing on.

“what is that?” his words came out immediately, and before batman could answer, he was speaking again. “robbery? alien invasion?”

“Poison Ivy in Gotham.” Batman is already standing, beginning his exit of the watchtower. Superman follows him.

“Can I come? Please?”

Batman turns, looking at him. “What?”

“It’s boring in here!” Superman gestures around. “And if I’m on my own it’ll be even more boring. C’mon, Batman, I can help you.”

Batman considers it for a moment before sighing. “Fine. But we’re going in the Batmobile.”

“But I can-“

“You are not flying me there, Superman.”

A few minutes later, they’re in the opera hall. Ivy seems to have taken over the stage, giving a speech on ways for the average person to decrease their carbon footprint.

Batman can see a few different people caught between her weeds. Long, thick plants have people in their grip. He scans the room quickly for you, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he sees that you are not captured, but instead just huddled in the corner with a group of others.

Superman doesn’t notice the way that Batman isn’t looking at Ivy, and begins his attack. Batman quickly follows. After a swift battle (turns out having Superman as an ally cuts down on battle time), Ivy is restrained and authorities arrive. The two start on recovering civilians before they both encounter you.

You’re comforting one of the women that was tangled in the weeds. You’re sitting beside her, nodding as she talked. You recognise the familiar pair of boots coming from the side of you. Your head lifts up slightly as you catch sight of the two men.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Wayne?” Superman speaks first, the familiar concern he has for everyone clear in his voice and expression. He recognises you from articles, and he’s heard enough from Cat Grant at the Daily Planet to know you’re married to Bruce Wayne.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you answer with a small smile. Your eyes move to Batman. “Thank you.”

Superman gives Batman a side glance as he hears Batmans heart skip a beat when you smile at him. He tries to not to make his suspicion obvious. However, he turns a little when he hears that Batmans heartbeat is now quicker than it had been five minutes ago.

However, nothing on Batmans mostly covered face gave away any feelings. He just nodded and said a quick: “Stay safe, ma’am.”

And Superman didn’t bring it up again. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. A heart skip doesn’t always mean feelings of infatuation, right?

The second time is with Flash and Green Lantern.

Batman is a stark contrast to the pair. Barry and Hal are close friends, and joke around when put together. Bruce will sigh, and tell them to be quiet, and then Barry tries to be serious, but Hal will mutter a sarcastic comment that makes him start laughing again and the cycle repeats.

So Batman is already tense from working with the two.

They’re investigating a case together, and encounter you somehow. (sorry that’s so vague i literally cannot think of a specific scenario here to save my life)

Flash asks you a few questions if you’ve seen or heard anything suspicious, and you shake your head and answer. Barry notices Batmans shoulders softening a little beside him.

It isn’t hugely noticeable, but Barry senses it. Batmans shoulders loose some of their tension as he talks to you, this civilian. And when Hal opens his mouth to make an implying comment, he tenses right back up again.

Barry’s eyes narrow. It isn’t often that the Bat actually feels emotions, so when he does, his friends take an interest.

On the way back, Barry nudges Hal.

“Hey, you notice the way Bats was acting around that woman earlier?” He whispers so the third man in front of them doesn’t hear.

“You mean that really hot one? Who wouldn’t act like that around her? Did you see her, Bar?”

Barry gives him a look, “yeah, but this is Batman. Brooding, stays-in-the-shadows, feels-nothing-but-rage-24/7, Batman.”

Hal ponders before shrugging. “I don’t know, maybe Spooky’s changed. Never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman, Barry.”

Barry thinks. “She looked kinda familiar, didn’t she? I can’t think of where I’ve seen her before.”

And when they see that the familiar face they were talking to was Bruce Wayne’s wife, they give each other an alarmed look before looking at Batman from across the room.

The third time was with Oliver goddamn Queen.

A charity gala. Bruce couldn’t go because he had intel that Scarecrow was planning on infiltrating the building while everyone was distracted, something about wanting to ‘test out a new gas’, and he had to be on watch as Batman for the evening.

You, however, decided to go. You had a nice dress and were getting close to some of the women there your age. It was nice to not be a total stranger in the room anymore.

So, as you filtered around the room, you met Oliver Queen. He sometimes teases Bruce on purpose by asking for a dance with you at other galas, but without Bruce he was simply a friend to enjoy a chat with.

When Scarecrow did burst in, you actually had been dancing with Oliver. A friendly turn around the room like the others were doing. By the time Batman had taken him down, and everyone emerged from the corners or hidden rooms, Oliver checked to see if you were okay. Lord knows Bruce would probably blame him if anything happened to you.

You were fine, thank God. Oliver’s sentence was interrupted by the Bat himself.

“Was anybody harmed?” the gruff voice asked, his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

“I don’t think so,” you replied. Oliver looked at Batman with a certain questioning that nobody seemed to notice.

“Good.” Batman was silent for a moment before speaking again. “Perhaps you all should start making your ways home. Scarecrow might return, or someone worse.”

You don’t miss a beat. “It’s a good thing we have someone like you to protect us, Batman.”

“Only a fool wouldn’t protect you, ma’am.”

Oliver blinked. Is Batman . . . flirting? With a married woman? Also, was that sentence a sneaky diss on him?

and Oliver could’ve sworn on his entire fortune that Batman’s lips were almost in a grin during his next sentence.

“Your husband is probably waiting on you, Mrs. Wayne.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows at your response. You laughed a little under your breath before speaking, “probably. I wouldn’t want to keep him up.”

Oliver looks between you and Batman. Perhaps he’s imagining things. You turn to him as if you’ve just remembered that he’s still there.

“Oliver, you have a safe way home, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll call my driver.”

He doesn’t bring it up the next time he sees Batman as Green Arrow. Batman doesn’t speak of it either. But his eyes narrow a little at the Bats whenever Bruce Wayne or his wife is mentioned.

Eventually, it comes up in conversation when Batman isn’t there.

They’re in the common room, and Diana is flipping through the newspaper. She’s on a page that features a picture of you at the latest event with a description of your outfit beside it. Beside her, Hal recognises you.

“Hey, Flash,” he begins, stabbing the page with his finger. “Isn’t that who we were talking to a couple days earlier?”

Barry is behind the couch in a second, nodding. “Yeah, we asked her a couple questions with Batman.” He looks up a takes a quick glance to see if anyone’s expression changes. “He seemed . . . different around her.”

Clark closes the book in his hand with a loud snap, looking at the three on the couch.

“You’ve noticed too?”

Hal laughs, “that Bats has the hots for a married woman? Yeah.”

Diana frowns a little. “That is unlike Batman. He’s known for his self-restraint. It doesn’t seem likely he would harbour a liking for someone else’s wife, especially Bruce Wayne’s. Doesn’t Wayne sponsor him or something?”

Oliver joins in. “Wonder Woman, you haven’t seen him with her. I mean, it was only a few seconds but he was a totally different person.”

“How so?” Diana asked curiously.

“He . . . relaxed a little.”

She raised her eyebrows. Barry cut in.

“Wonder, you need to see it to understand it. It’s like no one else even enters his mind when he’s looking at her. I think everything else sorta faded away, you know?”

“Like in those rom-coms I’ve been shown?” She suggests.

“Yeah!”

Clark thinks for a moment, wondering what to do to help his obviously hopeless friend. How do you break the news to an emotionally constipated Bat that he has to squash his feelings before anything terrible happens?

So, they organise an intervention. A very unorganised organised intervention.

Your name gets mentioned during a briefing. About how you could be potential target for a kidnapping due to your status.

Hal’s mouth works quicker than his mind.

“What about Bruce Wayne?”

“What about Bruce Wayne?” Batman asks in his low voice, his back still turned to the team.

“Just saying, he’s probably a potential target too, right?” Green Lantern points out. “He’s her husband, after all.”

Batman turns. They all seem to be looking for his reaction.

“Right, I was just getting to that.” He says stiffly. “So I think until Joker is tracked down again, a pair of eyes should be on them. Since Gotham is my city, I can-“

“Ohhhh, hold on,” Flash says, leaning forward. “Central City has been very quiet lately, so I’m free too.”

Wonder Woman joins in. “I’m interested too. I think the more people, the quicker we could get this done.”

Batman blinks. “Why the sudden interest in Gotham from you two?”

They both shrug, mumbling incoherent words that overlap each other. Something about “new environments” and “change of pace”.

Green Arrow smirks. “I wouldn’t mind accompanying. (Name) and her husband should get all the protection they can get.”

Batman isn’t showing it, but he’s confused. Less members have volunteered themselves for prison breaks. Why are three other members wanting to go to Gotham for an unconfirmed threat? And why do they keep looking at him like that?

“Yes,” Superman clears his throat. “Mrs (Name) is a kind woman who shouldn’t be in danger. And Bruce Wayne is similar in nature. He is valuable to Gotham City.”

Batman prepared his disliking-Bruce-Wayne act with practised ease. “Bruce Wayne is a spoiled idiot.”

“Of course you think that.” Green Lantern mutters with a smug smirk. Flash nudges him.

“What do you mean?” Batman asks, and Hal practically explodes.

“We know you’re attracted to (Name) Wayne!” He says, making Barry cover his eyes with his hands. Not how the conversation was supposed to go.

“Excuse me?” Batman is -frankly- appalled. Hal grimaces, instantly reminded of who exactly he’s talking to.

“You’re, uh . . .” he splutters before quickly mumbling, “you’re in love with (name).” He gains some of his confidence, and straightens up again, “and you were about to let Bruce Wayne get kidnapped, so you could swoop in and seduce her!” He tops it all off with hand gestures of the supposed ‘swooping’.

Batmans gaze sweeps the table. Nobody meets his eye except Diana, who just seems to be staring at him for his response. A few of them have to stop themselves from laughing at the idea of Batman ‘seducing’ someone.

“And what exactly gave you that idea?”

Barry is filled with a newfound confidence. “Oh, c’mon Bats, a blind man would see how you act around her!” He smirked a little. “You went a little . . . soft.”

Green Arrow snorts. “Sometimes I think you’re only protecting Gotham because she’s in it.”

Batman thinks. Has he been that transparent? He’s always careful about his expressions and body reactions. Maybe he is getting soft. He obviously didn’t take enough care.

A fleeting image passes his mind, where he declares his love for you to the team. How could he not show you off? He would love to tell them that you were with him.

But, of course, he doesn’t do that. He just blinks.

“I am not in love with (name), that’s ridiculous.” He scoffs. “Number one, I don’t fall in love with anyone. Number two, she’s married, so I think that means she’s out of the dating pool.”

Not one face looking back at him looks convinced.

However, a cold stare and a swift change of topic ensured that nobody tries to start the conversation again.

They do, however, take a bigger interest in Gotham nowadays. Whenever a mission includes you somehow, there’s always one of them volunteering to go. They all think that distance will make sure Batman goes back to his cold and steely ways of not having a crush on anyone’s wife.

Bruce crawls under the covers with a small groan, shuffling next to you. His arms go around your warm body as he rests his face near yours. He’s desperate to soak up your warmth after being out in the cold all night.

“Long night?” you ask, your voice still quiet from sleep.

“Long day,” he responds, tucking himself into you. You keep your arms around him. “The League accused Batman of being attracted to Bruce Wayne’s wife today.”

It takes you a moment to realise what he’s talking about. You breathe out a laugh. “Is Batman not in love with me?”

Bruce grins against your skin. “He might be.” He murmurs. “Just a little, though.”

You raise your eyebrows, turning to look at Bruce. “Does Batman know I’m married? And that I’m very loyal to my husband?”

“Oh, yes,” he responded, and sits up a little. he pressed his forehead to yours. “and Batman knows that there’s nobody else on this earth that loves you more than I do.”

You smile, your fingers in his hair now. he leans closer to press his lips to yours, an action that you return. Bruce keeps himself against you for a long time. He likes falling asleep with you in his arms. He likes feeling like the protector.

It’s why he needs to sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door. It’s why he needs to know where you are each night. It’s why he needs to know you’re safe. And if your safety comes along with each League member giving him looks because they think he’s harbouring a crush for another man’s wife, then so be it.

He’d do anything for you, anyway. 

[jtoddsbaby]

a pillow? really?

IN WHICH... after a fight with your boyfriend, you force him to sleep with a pillow between you. here's how he handles it.

featuring: dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, damian wayne, and tim drake.

warnings: fluff, crack, f!reader, established relationship (wife!reader for bruce, gf!reader for everyone else), EXTREME mommy kink!tim—dni if this is "too freaky" for you!!

inspired by this ask

dick grayson:

dick definitely would be upset and would try at least 3 times to ditch the pillow.

but each time he yanks the item from between you and tucks it under his head, you yank it right back and lodge it between your bodies.

he gives up on removing it after attempt #10.

you're turned on your side away from him, seeming way too unbothered for his liking. he's probably pissing you off even more, but attention from you is all he wants.

he pokes your shoulder repeatedly, arm draped over the barrier pillow. "baby, baby, baby, baby," he repeats with each poke.

he grins big and wide when you finally turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. "do i need to get a bigger pillow?" you scoff.

"no. this one's perfectly fine," he chirps. "though i'd prefer no pillow at all. i can't feel my baby up like this!"

you roll your eyes. "you don't deserve to feel me up, richard. go to sleep." you shuffle closer to the edge of the bed, juuust far enough that he can't reach you.

he groans dramatically, flopping down on his side with a huff. "fine, whatever. you don't love me, i get it. goodnight, i guess."

he falls asleep with a big, babyish pout on his face, his lip jutted out like a toddler's rather than a 20-something year old's.

his spirits are definitely raised in the morning, though, because he wakes up to his body being draped over the stupid pillow barrier, head nestled against your chest.

jason todd:

jason would take it much worse than dick. he'd feel personally offended, undoubtedly.

he'd glare daggers at the pillow separating his body from yours, wishing he could burn it to ashes with just his eyes. his arms are crossed over his beefy chest like a child told no to dessert.

finally, he tears his eyes from the pillow and onto your sweet body. your beautiful, worship-worthy body. "can i touch you yet?"

"no, jay! that's the whole point of the pillow. no cuddles allowed, i'm angry with you."

he grumbles. "no cuddles isn't the same as no touching. can't i at least hold your hand, ma?"

"no."

"ma, please?"

"jason peter," you snap, giving him the look. "i said no. goodnight."

his eyes remain trained to your back, watching it rise and fall as you breathe. "...night."

you feel much worse about how you spoke to him when you wake up the next morning. his side of the bed is cold, and the pillow in the middle looks as if it hadn't moved once since it was placed.

you get up, padding to the kitchen where jason is flipping pancakes at the stove. his shoulders are slumped, head swaying as if it's too heavy for his neck. he lets out a deep sigh. you frown.

your arms wrap around yourself as you approach. "jay?" you call softly, standing beside him at the stove. no touching, not yet. he doesn't look at you, so you tilt your head to get a look at his face and oh...

his eyelids droop with exhaustion, eyes a bit red from straining to stay awake. his under-eyes are dark bags. his lips are chapped. "baby? what's up with you?"

alas, he looks at you, his lips don't smile, eyes don't soften. he holds out your plate of pancakes and you accept it. "i did not sleep."

"...why?"

he looks at you as if it's obvious. "well, i did not have you to hold, and i can't guarantee your safety without holding you. i tried to sleep, but then i had a nightmare that i'd...lost you. every time i shut my eyes i saw the same thing as the dream. so, i decided to just stay awake."

you've never felt like a shittier person. you throw your arms around him, feeling him slump against you. you vow to never but him on a touch ban again, no matter how angry he makes you.

bruce wayne:

personally, i feel like bruce just...wouldn't even put up with it lol.

unlike how dick and jason kept the pillow and respected the rule (to an extent), bruce would just laugh in your face when he comes in for bed.

he stands at the foot of the bed, looking at your scowling face and the fluffy pillow at your side. "what's with the barrier?"

you huff. "no touching, bruce. i'm not in the mood."

he places his glass of water on his nightstand, casually crawling into bed and tossing the pillow across the room.

"bruce!" you glare, but you can't do much when he snakes his beefy arms around your waist and tugs you close until your back meets his chest. "i said no touch—"

"—i know what you said, darling. and—no offense—i don't give two fucks," he chuckles, the sound low and deep in your ear. fuck, why does he sound so good when you're so upset? "if i want to hold my wife, i'm going to hold my lovely wife."

you grumble, fighting his grip, but to no avail. "bruceeee," you groan.

"g'night, honey," he only croons, kissing your jawline so sweetly. "i love you."

moments of silence pass.

"i said i love you," he repeats, pinching your waist.

you squirm. "ughhhuh, i love you, too."

"good girl," he grins into your neck, holding you closer. "get some beauty sleep, i'll have alfred prepare you a spectacular breakfast tomorrow morning—y'know, as my apology."

true to his word, you wake up to his arms still locked around you like chains. however, the delectable scent of pancakes, waffles, berries and cream, eggs, and coffee wafts into the bedroom.

"ugh, i hate you, you promising, handsome bastard," you grumble, relaxing into his arms with the assumption that he's still sleeping. "i can never stay mad at you."

you feel lips curl into a grin against your shoulder. "yes, yes, you hate me," he mumbles sarcastically. "my wifey hates me and my lovely arms and the breakfast i make her."

"you didn't make anything. alfred made it."

"i made him make it. lovable by association, honey."

damian wayne:

when damian's told that you'd be sleeping with a pillow between you, your sweet baby's signature scowl is tainted with unshed tears. you feel bad, but your anger from the fight overpowers your remorse.

"a...pillow barrier?" he mumbles. "really, habibti?"

you nod. "a pillow barrier. i'm so upset with you, dami. i don't wanna cuddle."

he nods his head once. "i'll try to cope," he sighs, climbing into bed and throwing the covers over his head.

all of damian that shows is a little peek of jet-black hair from under the sheets. despite yourself, you have to bite back a smile. so cute.

"night, damian," you murmur.

his voice is muffled by the comforter. "goodnight, habibti. i love you oh so dearly, my world."

you're glad that he's hiding under the sheets, that way he can't see your grin breaks through—can't see your walls cracking. "i love you too, dami."

dami. the nickname makes your boyfriend smile. dami rather than damian, that's progress.

what you don't see is damian tossing and turning for hours until the clock strikes 2 am. he just can't sleep without his beloved woman in his arms, without your hair tickling his cheek as you drool into his neck.

so, he crawls out of bed and into the cool nighttime chill of the manor. if you won't cuddle him, he shall find a replacement. he returns to the bedroom a bit later with alfred the cat tucked under his arm and titus trailing lazily behind him.

he reunites with the warm blankets, holding alfred close under his chin. titus climbs into bed, sprawling comfortably over damian's legs.

you awaken the next morning the most adorable sight. your dami, arms (and legs) full of his cherished pets.

his hold on the cat is tight, the animal purring softly into damian's neck. titus has since inched his way up the bed, his head level with damian's—the dog is nearly spooning your boyfriend, doggy drool coating his sleep shirt.

well, at least he found a way to get his fix of drool and warmth. your walls finally crumble, and you reach over the pillow to stroke your knuckles against his cheek. that wakes him up.

he peels one eye open, grinning at the gooey look on your face. "what? i needed something to hold."

tim drake:

mommy kink!tim is activated almost instantly, and he tears each and every one of your walls down until you forget why you were even upset with him in the first place.

his face falls when you announce the pillow's presence. "what?!"

"you heard me, tim. pillow stays."

"no...no, no, no, no," he whines softly, feeling helpless. he tosses his phone haphazardly onto his nightstand, flopping onto the bed. "please, no."

you huff. "i'm upset, tim! i can't cuddle with you tonight, i just can't."

"mommy, please!" he begs pathetically, shoving the pillow out from where it's lodged between your bodies. he nuzzles up into your side instantly. his dark locks brush your cheek. "can't sleep without my mommy...need her to hold me, and love me, and tell me i'm a good boy."

you arch a brow. "but you're not a good boy."

he whimpers, eyes drilling shut in regret at your words. "o– okay, then to tell me i'm a bad boy. that i'm such a bad boy and don't deserve my mommy's affection."

"okay, fine. you're a ba—"

"—no! i change my mind. don't tell me any of those things," he whines, big blue eyes looking apologetically up at you through thick lashes. fuck, the eyes. "i'm so so so sorry, mama. i wasn't a good boy, but i can be! a good boy, that is."

you run a hand through his hair, and he whimpers—loud and desperate for more touch. "you promise you'll be good? you're not lying to mommy so she'll cuddle you?"

he keeps his eyes on yours, so melty and gentle. "i'd never lie to you, mommy. i swear."

"okay, then. if you say you can be a good boy, timmy, then i'll cuddle you tonight. but don't make me mad again, understand?"

"understand, mommy," he coos, smiling happily now that he's won you over. he snuggles into your chest, sighing contentedly. "thank you."

a/n: anyone peep the reference at the end of bruce's headcannons?🫣

[bornindarkparadise]

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Bruce Wayne would never call you his wife before you were truly his wife.

He's not one to say "look at my wife" or "this is my wife" when you're just dating.

No. To him, that title is important, too important.

He remembers his father putting a beautiful pearl necklace on Martha's neck, remembers how his fingers would brush the skin of her neck while his mother's gaze was fixed on the mirror in front of them.

Thomas would only look at her, and when he fastened the necklace and she turned to look at him, he remembers how their eyes would meet and his father would always smile and say "my beautiful wife" in the softest tone he'd ever heard.

So no, Bruce doesn't take the title lightly, because marriage means you choose him forever, with all his virtues and despite all his hundreds of flaws, despite his stubbornness and his difficulty showing emotion.

Having Martha Wayne's ring on your finger means to him that you'll wake up next to him every day, that you'll kiss his scars and be there to hold his hand in his worst moments.

It's devotion, it's giving your all, it's loyalty.

Eternal love.

Because no matter how complicated it gets, when he's standing in front of you looking into your eyes, when he says "I do," he says it forever.

He won't even say those words at the wedding reception.

He'll call you "the love of my life" or "the queen of my heart," but not "my wife." Not yet.

He only says it after the confetti has already fallen, the champagne glasses are empty, your shoes are on the floor, and his tie is lying somewhere.

He says it when no one else is around, when it's just the two of you with happy smiles on your faces despite the tiredness from hours of dancing, laughing, and drinking with your closest friends. He takes your hand, caresses your knuckles, and brings it to his lips.

Lingering longer than necessary as he softly kisses your skin, which to him is more valuable than diamonds and more delicate than porcelain.

He looks into your eyes and smiles with such truth on his face, a twinkle in his eyes.

"My wife."

He tucks one of your wild strands of hair behind your ear even though his hair is a complete mess.

He brings his face close to yours, so close that your noses touch and you can feel his warm breath on your lips as he looks at you as if your eyes contained stars.

"My dear wife" his husky voice, so cold and intimidating to others, was now, to you, the definition of love, of affection, and warmth.

So no, Bruce Wayne is not the kind of man who would call you his wife before you are officially his.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

My dear husband, how much I love you.

English is not my native language. Requests are open. Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated.

Kisses from Lena.

—Helena the witch📖🔮🦇

[luviery]

SOULMATES

summary: Turns out you had met the Waynes well before meeting your husband. pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader tags and warning(s): Nothing as far as I'm aware, wrote this in an hour and I'm way too sleepy to proofread this. some info might not be accurate, Maybe OOC word count:1.1k dc mlist bruce wayne mlist

Bruce Wayne had a hollow pit in his heart that ached for the simple things in life, such as Jason picking up his call, dick staying the night at the manor, among others. But like everyone else, he wished for things that could never happen, like his parents alive and well beyond their early thirties, and meeting you, his wife.

But what if fate had other plans?

It's a random Tuesday as Bruce, and you stand in the middle of your grandfather's beloved attic. The wooden floors creak under your weight, dust particles moving in spirals as the early rays of sunshine flit through the glass panes of the dormer window. Your mother had asked for your help in cleaning your grandparents' place, and so you pulled in Bruce - offering him a break from his corporate duties, which he gladly agreed to.

"Wow, I did not realise my grandad hoarded so many things", you say, looking at the vast number of trinkets and boxes stacked along the walls on both sides of the attic. Each was well organised, with a label pasted on the top.

"Your grandad was a man of culture", Bruce chuckles, looking at the various band posters from the 40s and 50s. There were even autographs from some of them, neatly preserved.

Both of you got to work immediately, knowing it would be hours before everything was cleaned out. You had decided to split the work by concentrating on different ends of the triangular room.

Bruce had struck gold by ending up in the corner where your granddad had seemed to store much of the photo albums and cassettes, stacked on top of each other, labeled in detail about what the insides contained. It gave Bruce an insight to your family, a family from looking at the albums that had photos from back since your grandparents got married, having their daughter — your mother, to her getting married, and having you.

He had seen a lot of your photos since the early days of dating, but these were different. Your grandfather was an avid photographer, and Bruce could sense it through the varied angles and poses that he made everyone do.

"Having fun, huh?" you mumble, looking at Bruce as he suppresses a chuckle while looking at the pictures of you — a two-year-old, wearing a princess gown and a wand gripped tightly within your grubby fingers.

"You get stuck with the more fun part, while I have to dust some old documents", you grumble, looking at files and files of documents.

"Do you wanna exchange, sweetheart?"

"Nope," you say, emphasizing the 'p' as you shift to the next box, "Besides, I like hearing you laugh, even if it comes at the cost of my pictures"

An hour passes by.

You had finished four out of the twelve boxes. Heaving a sigh, you decide it's time for a well-deserved break. And what better to do than annoy your beautiful husband?

"Bruce, Brucie Wayne," you turn to look at him at the lack of any response "Bruce?"

Bruce doesn't answer, his broad back turned towards you. There is something different in the air from a few minutes ago, almost tinged with melancholic fragrance. You move towards, hoping to see what made him go so still, only to let out a gasp when you see it.

There you were, maybe five or six years old, wearing a large doctor's coat that reached well beyond your limbs, dragging onto the marble floor and a cute pink stethoscope around your neck. But that was not what made you gasp; it was the couple you were standing with in the photo.

Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Both of them were crouched next to you on either side. Thomas Wayne in his fitting black suit paired with a dark blue silk necktie embellished with motifs, while Martha Wayne wore a simple black silk dress paired with a blue tweed jacket.

There was a tiny piece of description below the photograph, a little shabby, like your grandpa wasn't sure what to write.

' Y/N & famous couple from Gotham (VHS #155)'

Bruce let out a laugh— loud but bittersweet. It made sense for your grandad to not know them, considering the only people he thought to be rich were the Queens.

You looked at Bruce, his eyes a little glazed as you cupped his face, fingers rubbing against the expanse of his cheek. Pressing a small kiss on his forehead, you whisper, "Shall we watch the VHS tape?"

He hums as you both try finding the exact tape among two hundred of them. Once retrieved, you dust the Toshiba VCR at the corner, pulling it slightly towards the center. You and Bruce try to get it to start since it probably hasn't been used in a while.

After a few minutes, the VCR lights up. Inserting the tape, you press play, and both of you stand back, Bruce's arm over your shoulder as you lay your head on his chest, arms wrapped around his waist.

The VCR displays a blue gradient before buzzing to a grainy film of you in a purple and pink frock , smiling widely at the camera. There's a lot of noise around you — people clapping , speeches being read as your grandad records the stage when Thomas Wayne was giving his speech. Bruce shifted a little, hand holding yours a little tighter, from hearing his father's voice after so many years.

The video then shifts to you, standing in front of the couple, wearing a pink stethoscope and a white coat a little too large for your frame. Martha Wayne smiles , a smile so radiant, before crouching down to her knees as she shakes your hand.

"Hi, there. What's your name?"

You say your name before letting out a giggle at her calling you beautiful.

"You want to be a doctor when you grow up?" She asks, hands pointing at the instrument hanging around your neck.

"Yes, ma'am. I want to be a heart doctor," you say, peering at the woman beside you. Thomas Wayne smiles before exchanging pleasantries with your grandfather.

"Oh, that's wonderful! You will be a great doctor one day, my dear."

And with that, the VHS comes to an end.

Bruce sniffles a little , his hands holding your waist, chin placed on top of your head. Silence fills the space along with the sounds of your nieces playing around the house. You don't know how long the both of you stayed like that, but it could have been forever, and you didn't mind at all.

Bruce is beyond happy. While it may not be visible to the naked eye, you could feel the joy emanating from the open crevices of grief and gaps of affection. He was happy that you —his wife, the love of his life — had met his parents. And they had gotten the chance to meet you.

Perhaps both of you really were soulmates.

A/N: Comments and Reblogs appreciated! Writing something for bruce after a long time.

Taglist is open

[mooncleaver]

Perfect Night

ღ summary: Bruce is late for patrol. Damian doesn't have the patience of a saint.

ღ pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

ღ warnings: Damian. (<3)

"Father. Wake up."

If anyone were to see a child dressed in a Robin costume squatting on their headboard in the dead of night, staring at their sleeping figure with unnatural silence, they'd probably freak. But not you or Bruce, who's lovingly laid in each other's arms with years worth of experiences under your belt.

Bruce had fallen fast asleep after coming home from Wayne Enterprises, careless with his attire which was still simply strewn messily on a hanger by the closet. He was only dressed in his boxers, one heavy arm slung over your waist while the other pillowed his head, your own tucked right under his chin. The absence of the usual hardness present on his face made him look peaceful, relaxed. His mouth was opened slightly, soft breathes puffing out a steady rhythm. If you were awake right now you’d have your phone out to take a picture.

Usually the vigilante is quite punctual with his schedule, but it had been a tough week for him. One which included not one but two galas, a criminal breakout from Arkham and one nasty visit from the Joker.

You recall him muttering something about "resting his eyes for a bit" before patrol, but it feels like age is catching up to him because he's well passed out beside you without a care in the world.

Damian must've been too impatient to let the man bring himself down the cave, so he resolved it by approaching his father himself.

But of course, Damian couldn't just wake him up normally. The young boy was bent down right onto Bruce's face, gloved fingers physically prying apart the older man's eyelids to show a peek of blue underneath. And Bruce with his killer instincts,—even when half-conscious—snapped right up at the intrusion, only relaxing slightly when he was greeted by Damian's masked face. Naturally, he sported an irritated face, as if his father had inconvenienced him by being asleep.

Another perfectly normal night at the Wayne household.

"Come on, let's go, patrol time. The streets are waiting." Damian insisted, still with his fingers all up in Bruce's eye. The older man blinked out into the darkness of his bedroom, making shape of blurry dark eyes, nostrils sticking out and a pair of eyebrows that looked like his own.

Damian was practically vibrating with energy, Titus panting heavily on the side of the bed as if mimicking his owner. He was always like this ever since he took the mantle of Robin. The first to be up for patrol, the first to stand in the Batcave with full gear on. Always so eager to be the one fighting crime. He had that same thirst for justice like all your other kids did.

Bruce let out a low grumble, sighing deeply as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He remembered the weight of you in his arms and peeled you off gently, keeping an eye on your face to make sure none of this ruckus awoke you from your well-deserved slumber. He would much rather stay with you in the very expensive sheets he exclusively bought for the master bedroom, but he equally wouldn't let Damian run around Gotham alone. Despite whatever reason he came up with each week to go out as vigilante alone, Damian is his son before he is Robin. No amount of training and Assassin 101s could take away the fact that Gotham doesn't discriminate when it comes to showing no mercy.

So with a resigned sigh, he ran a hand through his tussled dark hair, the motion doing absolutely nothing to tame the mess. Without even looking, he reached his left arm out to point at the door, muttering a tired but firm, "Cave."

Damian leaped from the wooden headboard, yellow cape bellowing behind him and landing with a sound thud. Though he was light on his feet, Bruce still whipped his head around to warn him sternly, mindful of his sleeping wife beside him.

"Quietly, Damian. Don't wake your mother up."

He was just about to check on you when he noticed the dog not hot on its heels behind Damian, followed by the quiet croak of your voice.

"Dami?" You stirred, hearing muffled voices of what you could guess as your husband and son.

Well, neither Bruce nor Damian woke you up, because Titus was already in front of you, panting and licking your cheek.

Even if usually well-behaved, the Great Dane had a certain affection for you. You and Alfred, aside from his owner, were the two people constantly around him around since he was a small puppy. Especially when the boys were out doing their nocturnal activities, the two of you would feed him treats and play with him.

Before you could turn around to confirm who the voices belonged to, you felt the heat of pants right in front of your face. One that suspiciously smelled like beef and dog treats. Titus seemed to respond even more eagerly seeing that you were awake, pushing his head onto yours as he sniffed the hand that laid in front of you. "Oh hello Titus.."

Damian, like the good son he is, stopped right in his tracks and immediately responded to your call. He zoomed past to your side of the bed, bending down to your level when you reached a hand out.

"Ummi." He greeted, melting under your palm on his head. You smiled sleepily at your boy. Despite the darkness tempting to swallow you back up into sweet dreams, you could still make out the bright green of his eye mask and the silhouette of his spiky hair. And especially the special lift at the corner of his lips that only showed when you showered him with affection—like he was proud to be noticed by you. You love him so much. He's just like a little cat.

A stubborn, homicidal little cat.

As much of a heartwarming scene this was, Bruce could tell that you were nearly fully awake. It wasn't helping that Titus was getting louder with his excitement, pawing the floor while his collar rustled loudly. Even if his life felt a hundred times better when you waited up for him to come home, he didn't like when you skipped out on resting time.

He needed Damian and Titus out of the room stat, but it didn't seem like the former noticed, too busy being fawned on by his mother.

Bruce stared down at his son with just enough intensity that Damian could feel a definite weight on the side of his face. When he turned, they engaged in a staring contest when Damian started fighting back with defiance. Prideful little thing. Once he finally piped down with a quiet "tt" (which Bruce couldn't bother to scold him for), the man jerked his head to signal for Robin to leave for the cave.

Damian for once, happily obliged Bruce's command.

He didn't forget to give your hand a squeeze before he left, getting up with a newfound vigor as Titus bounded behind him.

Immediately the older man leaned forward to settle his weight next to you, one bare arm finding the strewn duvet to cover your body before softly landing beside your shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We're leaving for patrol." He whispered gently, closing in on your face to nose at your cheek.

You were already back on your side at this point, sleep starting to set back in once the room quieted down. When you felt his breath on your cheek, you lazily reached a hand to land on the side of his stubbled face and gave it a soft pat. "Oh.. okay. Be careful. Love you both."

Bruce felt your arm slacken and smiled at the way your voice trailed off into small breathes. Cute. He lifted his left hand to take your palm off his face, pressing a small kiss to the center before doing the same to your temple. He took the chance to pause and breathe in the moment, staring at you with deep, unabashed love. With reverence. As if the mere sight of you slumbering could solve all the problems of this world and fight the darkness that plagued it.

He placed one more soft kiss to your cheek, promising his and Damian's safe return before he got up from the bed, knees cracking in a weak protest.

"We love you too."

And off he goes, Gotham University shirt only halfway on, trudging behind his eager son to go fight crime while his wife slept soundly at home. Maybe not a normal one, but it was a perfect night at the Wayne household.

CHAT WE LIVE FROM GOTHAM CITY. Thought this comic scene was really cute!

dividers @hyuneskkami @strangergraphics ; masterlist

@ pls don't repost or feed my works into ai thaaank you

[honeysucklewatr]

married to bruce wayne, you’re still not used to luxury.

bruce wayne loved to see you wear the things he bought you, always shoving his card into your pocket or sliding it into your purse when you weren’t looking. he had tim set up his card as your apple pay and you didn’t realize until your bank account didn’t budge since your last paycheck. he didn’t quite enjoy the fact that you paid for your own things. even if he wouldn’t tell you to quit your job, he wanted you to save it up for something else, something he wouldn’t be around for.

now you’re in a boutique in paris with him.

he’s brought you for a business deal, but slipped away during lunch to take you sight seeing. bruce was the one to bring you to this store, even if he didn’t like to admit how much he loved to take you shopping and watch you twirl around in the pretty skirts while he pretended not to have a raging hard on.

you were distracted by a gorgeous black dress, clad in soft lace that looked carefully woven into the fabric. silk lining in the inside that felt like it was barely there when you held it in your palm. striking like a midnight sky that blurred over gotham while the sounds of the city were masked behind those bulletproof windows bruce had built.

the price tag was hefty, so many zeroes that you questioned whether you should do your part and actually eat the rich, starting with your husband.

you didn’t feel his presence lurking closer behind you. you didn’t notice when he looked away from his phone, responding to emails while he let you pick something out, even when you said over and over you didn’t need anything.

“get it.”

the sound of his voice made you actually jump, turning around with your hand clutching your chest.

“fuck me— bruce! stop doing that!” pushing lightly at his hard chest.

he gives you the smallest, amused smile, just barely there so you couldn’t tell anyone of it.

“get it. it’ll look beautiful on you,” he takes the dress off the hanger from in front of you, “or off you. whatever point of the evening we’re at.”

you roll your eyes at him, following behind him while he continues to sift through another rack of clothing. shoving his phone into his pocket, he puts the dress over his shoulder and pulls out another from its hanger.

“oh,” he starts, holding it in front of him while you remained blocked by his huge stature, back blocking the view of what he held, “this is scandalous.”

“bruce, i don’t need any more clothes really. you buy me enough,” sighing as you rounded his enormous back to gape at the dress he held, “wha—that can’t be for me, i’m not wearing that!”

he turned to you, tilting his head with the worlds softest feigned stern expression etched across it, “it’s beautiful.”

you’re shaking your head, “not for me! do you see how short it is? and the neck line is so low!”

“are you claiming you wouldn’t look good in it?”

“i’m saying i’m not wearing it anywhere, my titties will pop out,” you cross your arms while you continued whisper yelling at him as he held it up against your front trying to imagine it on you, smiling like he could see exactly what you described, “stop that bruce.”

it was always a losing war with him when he wanted to buy you something.

he shrugs at you before throwing the dress over his other shoulder and walking to the counter to pay, already gliding his credit card out of his wallet, “you can just wear it for me then hmm? you know how i feel about your spillage.”

shit eating grin on his face as he taps his unlimited card on the pinpad and takes your hand in his. he lifts your linked hands to kiss the back of yours and then the enormous rock on your finger as he starts to lead you out from the store.

“can you wear it for me tonight? i promise i will misbehave, mrs. wayne.”

the concept of bruce wayne being your husband…

[athenalvss]

SWEET HORNY WIFE ( bruce wayne! )

Summary | Only Bruce Wayne knows both sides of his charming wife, and he loves both.

Pairing | Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

wc | not smut just hints that something happened

P.S. I'm SO SAD because Max lost the championship, devastated

hot wife mlist

Generally, everyone thought that the millionaire playboy and most desired man in the city was, logically, the horniest man in the world. Everyone assumed that he was undoubtedly the horniest in the marriage: Bruce Wayne, the man who could have anyone he wanted, the one who could make knees tremble with just a smile, the one who radiated an intensity that seemed impossible to extinguish.

But reality couldn't have been more different; if there was one person who kept order in the bed, it was his wife.

Cause yes, he could be intense, he could be passionate, all in the privacy of his bedroom. But you, his damned wife, Mrs. Wayne, was in a different league.

Behind that angelic face you had, there was a kind of succubus, something he would never have expected from your nor imagined at the moment he first met ypu at the gala.

Because that night, Bruce saw an elegant, sweet, and composed woman. A gentle smile, a calm voice, an almost ethereal presence that unsettled him more than any armed criminal; nothing about her screamed danger.

But over time he discovered that that innocent look hid something deeper, something that made the sweetest woman in Gotham the greatest test of self-control Bruce had ever faced.

he was even surprised that, given their active sex life, you only had one baby. Because you were… insatiable.

That woman who seemed made of silk and light, that woman who inspired tenderness in anyone… you could wake him at midnight with a single caress and make him feel like he'd been training for a marathon the next morning. Sometimes Bruce would just watch you as you played with their daughter in the garden, looking more angelic than ever, so gentle, so maternal, so perfectly innocent…

If only they knew that beneath that celestial exterior lay a determination bordering on the voracious. That when you looked at him with a certain glint in her eyes, he knew he was doomed. That that same body that seemed made to embrace and protect was capable of cornering him with an ease that made all his years of training look ridiculous.

But he wouldn't deny at all that he loved that initiative on your part, that brazen confidence to seek him out when you wanted, that you liked to explore your sexuality to the fullest, especially if it was with him. He didn't mind at all waking up with his wife's soft lips around his cock in the morning or a quickie before heading out to the city for his nightly work, still feeling her on his sensitive cock.

Bruce was almost ready. Suit on, belt secured, hood in hand. That moment before going out, where his mind became cold, methodical, strategic.

Until he heard your footsteps.

When he looked up, you were leaning against the doorframe, your silk robe barely knotted at the waist. The kind of sight that would make you do a double take to make sure it was real.

"Are you leaving already?" you asked with feigned innocence.

Bruce let out that sigh that only you could elicit from him. "Gotham doesn't take care of itself " he replied dryly, although his eyes had already slipped to the opening of his robe.

You walked toward him with a slow, undulating, almost cruel gait. You circled him from behind, without touching him first. You let the silence do the work. .

And then, with all the calm in the world, you put your hands under the suit, touching her waist, the line of the taut muscles, the warm skin of his back.

Bruce closed his eyes. For a moment. Just long enough for you to realize you had him.

"You have time for a kiss, don't you?" you whispered against his neck.

He knew you weren't talking about a kiss. You never talked about a kiss when you said it like that.

Before he could answer, you gently tugged on his tactical belt to pull him closer to you. Your mouth barely grazed his ear.

"I don't want you to leave without remembering me," you murmured. "At least... for a little while."

Bruce swallowed, that involuntary reaction you loved to provoke in him. You smiled against his skin.

Your hands traveled down his abdomen, tracing each muscle as if you were the one taking a tactical inventory. And he, that man disciplined to the extreme, remained rigid, tense, trying to preserve a last shred of self-control.

"You shouldn't..." he whispered.

"So you're arresting me? " you asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

Silence

Bruce didn't move.

And you, subtle, victorious, untied the knot of your robe with a small gesture. The silk fell away barely, just enough for him to see skin. So much skin that he could feel through his suit.

"Don't be long," you said, with that dangerous smile. "I just need... the bare minimum."

Bruce laid his hood on the table.

Complete surrender "One minute" he conceded, although they both knew it would be longer.

You gently pushed him against the wall with confidence. Your lips met his with an intensity that was anything but sweet.

Your hands traveled straight to where you knew you could break him: the base of his abdomen, under his suit, warming his skin as he placed one hand on your waist and the other closed into a fist, trying not to lose himself completely.

"God..." he murmured against your mouth. "You don't do this right before you leave..."

Bruce let out a low, deep moan, one he never let out with anyone else. And you smiled, because he was yours. Because you could be.

A couple of minutes later—perhaps more than he had promised—Bruce rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, trying to compose himself while you retrieved the robe, which he had let fall to the floor with malicious slowness.

"Go," you whispered. "Be good. Or at least... come back in one piece."

Bruce looked at her as if he owed her his whole life. "I always come back," he said, touching her waist one last time. "I have my reasons."

And you smiled at him, triumphant, satisfied, perfectly aware that you had just left him marked before he even came out of the cave's hiding place.

But he also remembered nights when he came home exhausted, his body aching, his knuckles split, his mind reeling. You would be waiting for him, awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing that silk robe he swore she only wore to torture him. You said nothing; you just looked at him, tilted your head, and smiled as if you knew exactly what to do to make him feel better.

Bruce pushed open the bedroom door with a heavy sigh, the last effort he would make before the day ended. The silence of the mansion enveloped him immediately, as always, but every night he knew that beyond the bedroom door you would be there, waiting for him.

Sitting on the bed, in that silk robe he loved so much, the way you wore it was a masterpiece, the way the fabric draped over you, the way it felt beneath his rough hands. But this time, your legs were crossed, your hands resting on your knees, and your gaze was so warm that Bruce felt all his weariness wash over him at once.

"Are you hurt?" you murmured as soon as you saw him.

Bruce looked down at his bandaged knuckles. "Just a little."

You smiled, that small, forgiving smile that he never deserved, but that was his anyway.

"Come here" you said, opening your arms with a gentleness that melted any armor Bruce tried to maintain.

He said nothing. He simply walked toward you, letting himself be led as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And when he sat on the edge of the bed, you slid behind him and, wrapping your arms around him, hugged him from behind, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. Your fingers began to caress his shoulders, moving down his neck, along the rigid line of his jaw. Bruce closed his eyes and placed his hands on your arms, holding them as if he needed that contact to keep from falling apart.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," he murmured.

"Of course," you replied, as if it were obvious. "I don't like it when you're alone when you get back."

There was a comfortable silence as you rested your head on his shoulder, and he tilted his head to brush his forehead against yours. The connection between you was palpable, that safe space you shared without needing to say much.

"It was a difficult night," Bruce finally admitted, in a low voice, almost a whisper meant only for her.

You didn't ask what happened, you didn't pressure him. You just kept letting your fingers continue down his chest, tracing every tense muscle with slow, steady caresses.

"I'm here" you said simply.

Bruce rested his forehead against your chest, letting the sound of your heartbeat help bring him calm. You held him, one hand stroking his hair, the other tracing circles on his bare back.

"I hope you know that everything you do is great, you're a great man" you whispered, almost like a secret that you didn't want to break the peace of the room.

He put an arm around you, holding on to you, taking his first deep breath all night.

"I know "Bruce replied, and something in his voice cracked slightly, in a way only you could hear. "You tell me that every night, darling."

You smiled against his temple, and hugged him a little tighter. Bruce let his weight rest completely on you, allowing himself, for a moment, to stop being Batman.

He was just Bruce, the man who loved his wife, who loved his children. The man who found refuge in your arms.

And you stayed there, holding him, caressing him, giving him that space where he could let go. Where he could be vulnerable without fear. Where he could simply breathe.

"I love you," Bruce finally said, barely audible.

You placed a soft kiss on her head before speaking . "I love you too, my love. "

And so you both stayed, embraced, without haste, without demands, without needing anything more. Just two people who met in the middle of the night, as always.

Because no matter how dominant he was in everything else, when it came to you, when it came to his wife, he simply let himself go. He willingly surrendered to every kiss, every demand, every whim she tried to wrest from him.

Bruce didn't know how long they had been like that, enveloped in silence, in caresses, in that tranquility that only you could give him. But at some point, he felt your fingers move toward his chin, gently guiding him to look at you.

Your eyes were filled with a tenderness that even he, who had seen everything, couldn't fully understand. "I want you to rest, Bruce," you whispered. "You've more than earned it."

He let out a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. And for the first time all night, a genuine, warm smile crossed his face.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathing in your air, finding peace in that small gesture. His hands slid to your waist, drawing you in with an almost reverent care, as if you were the most precious thing he had… and you were.

"Thank you for waiting for me," he said, this time firmly, as if those words carried special weight. "Thank you for never leaving me alone... ever."

"I never will," you promised in a soft, sincere murmur. "I'll always be here, Bruce."

And he closed his eyes, letting those words be etched into his chest like a silent oath.

You settled down next to him in bed, and Bruce followed you instantly. He stretched out beside you, resting his head on your chest again as your fingers began to stroke his hair once more, with slow, relaxed movements.

"I slept "you said softly. " I'm with you."

Bruce took a deep breath, as if inhaling for the first time in days, letting his mind quiet down as he thought about his family, and how he loved every facet of his beautiful wife.

[jellyfishsthings]

Operation: Fix Bruce’s Love Life

navigation , dc navigation

Summary: The kids discover Bruce once almost dated the reader (a family friend), and decide to set them up again. Their methods are absurdly over-the-top: fake dinner invites, “accidental” stakeouts, and staged emergencies. Alfred just quietly enables them.

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

It started, as most things in Wayne Manor did, with someone finding something they weren't supposed to.

"Oh my GOD."

Dick looked up from his phone to find Tim staring at a photo in the Manor's library, his expression somewhere between delighted and scandalized.

"What?"

"Look at this." Tim held up a framed photograph that had been hidden behind several books. It showed a much younger Bruce Wayne, pre-Batman, maybe early twenties, with his arm around someone at what looked like a gala. He was smiling. Actually, genuinely smiling.

"Is that... "

"That's them," Tim said. "Bruce's friend. The one who visits sometimes."

Dick took the photo. Bruce wasn't just smiling. He was looking at you like you'd hung the moon and personally appointed him astronomer. "Holy shit. Bruce had a game?"

"Had been the operative word." Tim pulled out his phone and started typing. "Emergency meeting. My room. Twenty minutes."

"For what?"

"We're fixing Bruce's love life."

Twenty minutes later, Dick, Tim, Jason (who'd come in through the window), Damian (who'd been dragged from the Cave), and Duke (who'd brought popcorn) were assembled.

"This is ridiculous," Damian said. "Father's personal life is none of our concern."

"It is when he's been pining for like twenty years," Tim said, pulling up a presentation on his laptop. Yes, he'd made a presentation. "Observe."

The first slide was titled "BRUCE WAYNE: A ROMANTIC TRAGEDY."

Jason snorted. "You made a PowerPoint?"

"I made a case file." Tim clicked to the next slide, which showed a timeline. "They met in college. Dated for approximately two years. Broke up right before Bruce left for his training... "

"Emotional avoidance as self-protection," Dick noted. "Classic Bruce."

"... and they've maintained a friendship for over two decades despite obvious lingering feelings. Exhibit A." Tim pulled up security footage from last month showing you and Bruce in the Manor's garden, talking and laughing. "Notice the body language. The sustained eye contact. The way he actually smiles... "

"Father smiles," Damian protested weakly.

"Not like that," all four of his brothers said in unison.

Duke raised his hand. "So what's the plan?"

"We get them back together."

"Absolutely not." Damian crossed his arms. "We are not meddling in... "

"There's a 73% chance Bruce dies alone, surrounded only by case files and bats," Tim said.

"...I'm listening."

Phase One: Intelligence Gathering

"Master Dick," Alfred said, setting down tea in the Batcave. "Might I ask why you're reviewing security footage from five years ago?"

"Research." Dick didn't look up from the screen showing you and Bruce at a charity gala, dancing and talking like the rest of the world had ceased to exist. "Alfred, be honest. Does Bruce still have feelings for them?"

Alfred was quiet for a moment. "Master Bruce's feelings are his own to discuss."

"That's a yes."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it." Dick turned around. "What happened? Why did they break up?"

Alfred sighed, setting down his tray. "Master Bruce was... younger. More afraid. He'd just begun to understand what he wanted to do with his life, what he needed to become. He believed, incorrectly, in my opinion, that he couldn't be Batman and be with someone he loved."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Yes, well. Master Bruce has always had a remarkable talent for self-sabotage." Alfred moved toward the stairs, then paused. "If hypothetically, someone were planning to remind Master Bruce what he's been missing... I would recommend Thursday evening. He's invited them to dinner."

"Alfred, are you helping us?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Master Dick." But there was a smile in his voice.

Phase Two: The Dinner Setup

Thursday arrived. You showed up at the Manor at seven, dressed nicely but confused.

"Bruce said it was just a casual dinner," you said as Alfred took your coat.

"Ah. Master Bruce may have... misunderstood the nature of this evening."

"What do you... "

You walked into the dining room and stopped. The table was set for two, with candles, flowers, and what was definitely the fancy china.

Bruce appeared in a suit, a nice suit, not a business suit, and froze when he saw the setup.

"Alfred."

"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice came from somewhere in the house, innocent as anything.

"Why does this look like... "

"A romantic dinner?" you supplied, trying not to laugh. "Bruce, did you accidentally ask me on a date?"

"No. Maybe. Alfred!" He was already loosening his tie, which you'd learned over the years was his nervous tell. "This was supposed to be just dinner. Regular dinner. Friend dinner."

From behind a door, Tim gave Jason a thumbs-up. Phase Two: Success.

"We could... still have a friend dinner?" you offered, but you were smiling. "The food smells amazing."

Bruce visibly relaxed. "Right. Yes. Just dinner. With a friend. Please ignore the... " he gestured helplessly at the romantic setup, "... everything."

Dinner was actually lovely. You and Bruce fell into easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing. From their hiding spot, the kids watched through the cracked door.

"They're perfect together," Duke whispered.

"This is taking too long," Jason muttered. "We need to escalate."

"Patience," Dick said. "Let them... "

Damian stood up and walked directly into the dining room.

"DAMIAN, NO... "

"Father, there's been an incident at the Gotham Museum. Possible break-in. Your immediate attention is required."

Bruce was already standing. "What kind of... "

"I'll handle it," you said quickly, also standing. "You stay, finish dinner... "

"No, I should... "

"Bruce. Sit. Eat Alfred's cooking. I've got this." You were already heading for the door. "Damian, brief me on the way."

After you left, Bruce sat back down slowly, looking at his half-eaten dinner.

"There is no incident at the museum, is there?" he said quietly.

From the hallway, Damian's voice: "I have no idea what you're referring to, Father."

Phase Three: The Stakeout

"I don't understand why we all need to be here," you said, perched on a rooftop in the Diamond District next to Batman and four Robins.

"Intelligence suggests a potential heist," Bruce said, not looking at you.

"Uh-huh. And you needed your entire team plus me for surveillance?"

"Better safe than sorry," Nightwing said cheerfully. He was way too cheerful.

What followed was possibly the most awkward stakeout in vigilante history. Red Hood kept making comments about "chemistry" and "unresolved tension." Robin was uncharacteristically quiet but kept maneuvering so you and Batman were standing close together. Red Robin had "accidentally" brought only one set of binoculars, which you and Bruce had to share.

"Your kids are not subtle," you murmured to Bruce.

"They're not trying to be." He sounded tired. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into them."

"Really? You don't?" You looked at him, studied the line of his jaw under the cowl. "Bruce, we need to talk about... "

"FIRE!" Signal shouted. "There's a fire at the, uh, the place! You two should check it out! Alone! Together!"

There was no fire.

There was, however, a very pointed conversation in the Batmobile afterward where Bruce demanded to know what was going on.

"We're helping," Tim said through the comm.

"Helping with what?"

"Your crippling inability to express emotions," Jason added.

"I'm going to ground all of you."

"You can't ground me, I don't even live here anymore."

Phase Four: The Intervention

It all came to a head the following Tuesday when you showed up at the Manor for a completely normal visit and found all four boys plus Duke sitting in the living room like an intervention.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"We need to talk about you and Bruce," Dick said.

"Excuse me?"

"You're in love with him," Tim said bluntly. "He's in love with you. You've both been dancing around it for literally decades. It's painful to watch."

You opened your mouth. Closed it. "I, that's not, we're friends."

"You look at him the way Alfred looks at perfectly organized tea services," Damian said.

"That's... actually really sweet, but... "

"And Father looks at you the way he looks at finally solved cases," Damian continued. "With satisfaction and longing and... "

"Okay, we're not unpacking Bruce's emotional connections to detective work right now," Dick interrupted. "The point is, you both clearly have feelings. Why aren't you together?"

You sat down slowly. "It's... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Duke asked gently.

"Bruce and I dated in college. It was serious. Really serious. And then he left to 'find himself'... " you made air quotes, "... and when he came back, he was different. Closed off. He said he couldn't be what I needed, that his life was too dangerous, too complicated."

"That's the dumbest... " Jason started.

"I know!" You ran a hand through your hair. "But I respected his choice. We stayed friends. And yes, I still have feelings, but Bruce made it clear that he chose his mission over... over us."

"That was before he had us," Dick said quietly. "Before he learned that he could have both. A mission and a family."

"You think he's changed?"

"We know he has," Tim said. "But he's still an idiot about his own feelings. Which is why we're intervening."

"By sabotaging our dinner and creating fake emergencies?"

"The emergencies weren't fake!" Damian protested. "They were... strategically exaggerated."

Despite yourself, you laughed. "You're all insane."

"We learned from the best," Jason said. "So what do you say? Give the old man another chance?"

"I don't know if... "

"What's going on here?"

Everyone turned. Bruce stood in the doorway in his workout clothes, sweaty and confused.

"Oh, good, you're here," Dick said. "Sit down. We're talking about your feelings."

"My what?"

"Your feelings. For them." Tim pointed at you. "And before you deny it, we've seen the photo from college, we've analyzed your body language, and Alfred confirmed it."

"Alfred did what?"

From the kitchen: "I merely provided context, Master Bruce!"

Bruce looked at you. You looked at him. The kids watched like this was the season finale of their favorite show.

"Can we talk?" Bruce said, finally. "Privately?"

"Please."

You ended up in Bruce's study, the door firmly closed on four, no, five- Duke had joined, eavesdropping vigilantes.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said immediately. "About them. About the dinners and the stakeouts and... "

"Bruce." You stepped closer. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Do you still have feelings for me?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "I never stopped."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest. "Then why... "

"Because I'm Batman." He said it like it explained everything. "My life is dangerous. The people I care about get hurt. I thought, I convinced myself that staying away from you romantically was protecting you."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"I'm getting that a lot lately." He almost smiled. "I was young and stupid and scared. And by the time I realized I'd made a mistake, we were friends, and I thought I'd lost my chance."

"Bruce." You took his hands. "I've been in your life for twenty years. I know about Batman. I've patched up your kids, I've helped with cases, I've been here for all of it. I'm already in danger just by knowing you. Being your friend or being your... something more doesn't change that."

"I know. I know that now. But I didn't want to be selfish... "

"It's not selfish to want to be happy." You squeezed his hands. "And for the record? I never moved on either. I dated other people, but no one was ever... you."

Bruce looked at you like he had in that old photo, like you were something precious and rare. "I don't deserve... "

"Stop. Don't finish that sentence." You stepped even closer. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to ask me out. Properly. And we're going to go on a date. A real one, not one orchestrated by your children. And we're going to figure this out together, because that's what we should have done twenty years ago."

"What if something happens? What if you get hurt because of me?"

"Then you'll save me. Or I'll save myself. Or one of your many children will save me. Bruce, you can't protect everyone from everything. You're allowed to have this."

He was quiet, and you could see him processing, recalibrating twenty years of self-imposed isolation.

"Dinner," he said finally. "Tomorrow night. Just us. I'll pick you up at seven."

"That sounds perfect."

"And no interference from... " he raised his voice, "... ANYONE LISTENING AT THE DOOR."

Scrambling sounds. A muffled "abort, abort!"

You laughed, and Bruce, actual Bruce, not Batman, not the mask, smiled at you.

"They mean well," you said.

"They're insufferable."

"They're your kids."

"Unfortunately."

You kissed his cheek, gentle and full of promise. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

"I'm never late."

"You're always late."

"That's Batman who's late. Bruce Wayne is very punctual."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

After you left, Bruce opened the study door to find all five of his children plus Alfred trying to look innocent.

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it," Jason said proudly. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I should ground all of you."

"But you won't," Dick said, grinning. "Because we were right and you know it."

"Master Bruce," Alfred said, stepping forward with a small smile. "For what it's worth, I'm very proud of you. It only took you two decades."

"Not you too, Alfred."

"Someone had to ensure you didn't die alone in this manor, surrounded only by case files and emotional repression."

"That's what I said!" Tim high-fived Alfred.

Bruce looked at his family, his ridiculous, meddling, loving family, and sighed.

"If this goes badly, I'm blaming all of you."

"It won't," Damian said with absolute certainty. "We're Waynes. We don't fail."

"Also, they're totally in love with you," Duke added. "Like, painfully obvious."

"Everyone out. Now."

As they filed out, laughing and high-fiving, Alfred lingered.

"The blue suit, Master Bruce. Wear the blue suit tomorrow."

"Alfred... "

"It brings out your eyes. Trust me."

After everyone left, Bruce sat at his desk and pulled out that old photo from college. You and him, young and happy and stupidly in love.

Maybe his kids were right.

Maybe he was allowed to have this.

The Next Night

Bruce showed up at your apartment at exactly 6:58 PM in a blue suit.

You opened the door, saw him standing there with flowers and that soft expression he only wore around people he truly cared about, and smiled.

"You're early."

"I'm on time."

"For you, that's early." You took the flowers. "Let me put these in water, and we can go."

The restaurant was perfect. The conversation was easy. And when Bruce reached across the table to take your hand, it felt like coming home.

Back at the Manor, five vigilantes and one butler watched the tracker they'd definitely-not-secretly placed on Bruce's car.

"They're still at dinner," Tim reported. "Two hours and counting."

"Think he's going to propose tonight?" Jason asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dick said. "He'll wait at least three dates."

"I give it one month before he's shopping for rings," Duke said.

"Two weeks," Damian countered.

Alfred just smiled and poured the tea.

"Ten pounds says they're engaged by Christmas," he said calmly.

Everyone stared at him.

"Alfred!" Dick said. "You can't bet on… okay, you're on. I say New Year's."

In the end, it was Thanksgiving.

But that's another story.