Bruce leaning into the whole airhead billionaire shtick at certain events, knowing that it pisses off Lex Luthor, who cannot prove it but knows that Bruce is not that dumb. For fuck sake, Lex knows that Bruce is a polygot, that he can follow physics equations, that Bruce literally aced his exams. Why? They shared a dorm room in boarding school. However, Bruce sees how much it winds him up so he really plays into it.
Bruce outs Clark as Superman while Clark is interviewing him and Lex. "I don't know why you two can't get along like you are now 😔 Superman, maybe Lex just wants to spend time with you 🤔 And Lex, babe, the robots are cool and all but you can't like throw them at Superman 😶 That's not how you make friends." Lex tells Bruce to stop, rolling his eyes. Bruce goes on a rant about how the butts match etc. Clark is literally sat so still, trying not to move.
Lex yelling at Bruce when he pretends to not have overheard a conversation Lex was having with an arms dealer in Korean and Lex is all "you speak fourteen languages, Bruce" and you got Bruce who is near tears over this because he only speaks two? "I only speak American and English 😭😭"
Bruce giggling at some charity quiz show panel between Ollie and Lex, because he's so sorry but he doesn't know any countries? Like what are they??? Lex is screaming at him while Ollie hits the button so confidently going "Las Vegas".
Bruce sitting next to Lex on a plane (they're economising for PR) and he's fucking reading a book that's upside down???
Bruce asking Lex about the business finances, asking which company is "winning"? It was the day that LexCorp stock was tanking.
When he was about to run for president, Lex needed someone to take care of LexCorp. Why not his quasi nephew—the son of his old “close” friends, Jack and Maddie? (Yes they were old lovers)
He would have asked Jazz, but she was already working at the hospital in Metropolis. And believe it or not, she wanted to work in Arkham!
So while Lex played President, Danny took over LexCorp and transformed it into a massive humanitarian organization. Pretty fast, it was a side project Lex had, for PR reason and never truly worked on it.
People very fast talked about it as if it were “Heaven on Earth,” saying it does more good than Superman ever did for the people.
The saying now goes“Don’t wish for Superman to come—WISH TO WORK FOR LEXCORP!”
divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx
word count: 2.6k
synopsis: In which Bruce Wayne attempts to connect with his newest ward.
a/n: This for @darkfaethedestroyer who sent in such a cute request!
To say Bruce Wayne had handled psychopaths with more ease than parenting a teenage girl would be… well, an understatement.
He’d fought gods. Faced monsters cloaked in chaos and men with minds so twisted, entire cities paid the price for their delusions. He’d stared into the face of terror and remained unmoved. But none of that—none of it—prepared him for the quiet storm that was you.
His newest ward.
In many ways, you reminded Bruce of himself more than any of his other children. Smart. Sharp. Quiet. And utterly unreadable. Where Dick and Jason had raged, where Tim had questioned, where Damian had challenged, you simply existed—closed off and distant.
You hadn’t opened up the way he’d hoped. There were polite nods, the occasional awkward “thanks,” and the rare flicker of what might’ve been a smile before it vanished behind the glowing shield of your phone screen. But all your interactions felt minimal. Forced. Stiff. You weren’t rude. You weren’t ungrateful. If anything, you were well-mannered to a fault.
But it didn’t take long for Bruce to realize your quietness came from disconnection. The kind born from different worlds and decades of separation. He was a man forged in the aftermath of alleyways and vengeance, raised on pain and discipline. You were a teenager raised on screens and overstimulation, your expressions buried beneath playlists, sarcasm, and the privacy of earbuds.
And Bruce—world’s greatest detective, master of deduction, tactical genius—was utterly lost on how to bridge that gap.
He could rebuild satellites. Anticipate criminal behaviour down to the second. Unravel conspiracies with nothing more than a footprint and a strand of hair. But this? Talking to a teenage girl who barely looked up from her phone? and spoke in a vocabulary of slang that sounded less like English and more like an entirely different language? Who communicated in shrugs and acronyms he had to Google in private?
He didn’t have a playbook for this.
So, naturally, he decided to do what any rational, emotionally intelligent man would do.
He conducted research.
An operation, really—one that involved staying up into the early hours of the morning, buried not in case files or crime scene photos, but in TikTok tutorials and Reddit threads titled “How to Talk to Your Gen Z Teen Without Cringe.”
He commandeered the Batcomputer, created a burner account for social media “fieldwork,” and scribbled phrases like “it’s giving,” “delulu,” and “mid??” into a leather-bound notebook with the same intensity he once reserved for profiling serial killers.
No one was allowed in the cave that night. Not Dick, not Tim, not even Damian. Alfred had been turned away at the elevator with a tight-lipped “I’m working.”
From upstairs, strange sounds drifted through the manor like the warning cries of something unholy. A few digital notification pings here. A muttered “oomf” there. Once, Tim swore he heard Bruce say the word “skibidi.”
No one knew what he was doing.
And by morning, they all wished they hadn’t found out.
The next morning, Jason almost choked on his coffee.
“Dude,” he rasped, coughing as he set his mug down with a heavy thud. His eyes widened, blinking rapidly as if that might change what he was seeing. “What in the actual fuck are you wearing?”
Bruce Wayne stood calmly at the kitchen island, entirely unfazed by the stunned silence spreading across the room. The only thing remotely familiar about him was the Rolex on his wrist—an elegant timepiece gifted by Alfred years ago. Everything else, however, had taken a dramatic turn.
Gone were the usual tailored slacks, replaced instead by board shorts. Not just casual pants—patterned board shorts. The kind worn by TikTok influencers doing “Day in My Life” vlogs by the beach. His signature button-down or cashmere sweater was nowhere in sight. In their place hung an oversized graphic tee that read in bold, ironic print: “It’s giving… billionaire.”
A single emo-style cross earring dangled from one ear, gleaming faintly under the kitchen lights. And his hair—once so neatly styled now looked as if he had spent too much time online watching tutorials on how to achieve the effortlessly messy soft boy hairstyle most teens were now sporting.
Bruce furrowed his brows, genuinely confused. “What? Is this not slaying?”
Jason looked personally offended. “No. Absolutely not.” He pointed accusingly. “You used to be the terror of Gotham’s underworld. Now you look like you’re about to drop a breakup song with a ukulele.”
Tim wandered in mid-yawn, lazily reaching for the coffee pot—only to freeze mid-pour when his bleary eyes landed on Bruce. He stared. Once. Twice. Then turned to Jason, expression blank.
“Am I still asleep?” Tim asked, voice flat with concern. “Is this… a nightmare? Or has my sleep deprivation finally upgraded to include visual hallucinations?”
“No,” Jason muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Unfortunately for our sanity, this is very much real.”
Bruce, completely unbothered, gave a casual sweep of his hand over his outfit, as if he were revealing a carefully curated art piece. “I saw someone say this combo was a serve,” he explained, dead serious. “The earring adds mystique. Alfred says it’s very E-boy meets dark academia.”
“You’re a 6’2 CEO and trust fund baby,” Tim said flatly, eyeing the board shorts and graphic tee like they personally offended him. “You are in no way, shape, or form an E-boy. Jason could be an E-boy. You’re just… traumatizing.”
Jason scoffed, whipping around to glare at him. “Oh, fuck off, replacement,” he snapped, holding up a very expressive middle finger at Tim.
“I’m multifaceted,” Bruce cut in smoothly, before his sons could properly launch into yet another round of verbal combat. “And I saw a TikTok on cultivating ‘main character energy’ through aesthetic disruption.”
Jason looked like he might actually throw himself through the nearest window. His eye twitched. “You’re disrupting something, alright,” he said through gritted teeth. “My will to live.”
Bruce didn’t flinch. He reached for his mason jar of oat milk matcha and took a sip like a man entirely at peace with his choices. “Sometimes,” he said, “you have to break the mold to go viral.”
Tim turned to Jason, dead-eyed, voice low like he was genuinely considering the possibility. “You think Joker or Scarecrow is behind this sudden change?”
Jason didn’t answer right away. He stared at Bruce, who was now fiddling with his phone, presumably queuing up a trending audio. The cross earring glinted every time he moved. His expression was focused.
“…If it’s Joker, we shoot him,” Jason muttered finally. “If it’s Scarecrow, we sedate and detox.”
Before Tim could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall. Dick strolled into the kitchen, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders—only to freeze mid-step when his eyes landed on Bruce.
He blinked. “What the fuck?”
Jason didn’t even look up. He just sighed, like this was already an old conversation. “He’s going through a midlife crisis.”
Dick tilted his head slowly, squinting at the board shorts, the oversized graphic tee, and the emo earring. “…Didn’t he already go through one when he decided to dress like a bat and beat the shit out of muggers?”
Tim glanced back at Bruce, who was now trying to find the perfect selfie angle and filter. “I feel like we should do something? Run tests? A brain scan? Something?”
“Yeah,” Jason muttered, rubbing his temples like he could massage the madness out of his skull. “It’s called sedatives and locking him in the Batcave until he comes to his senses.”
“I can still hear you,” Bruce said without looking up.
“Good,” Jason snapped. “Then you can hear how crazy you are being!”
There was a beep from Tim’s phone. He glanced down at the screen casually—only for his entire expression to freeze. The colour drained from his face like he’d just read his own obituary.
“What?” Dick asked, leaning over curiously to peek at the screen, only to also pause. “…Please tell me he doesn’t actually have a TikTok account.”
“He does,” Tim whispered, horror dawning. “He followed me. His username is @billionairebyday.”
Jason groaned into his hands. “We need an intervention. Or an exorcism. Maybe both.”
Bruce, still calmly adjusting his phone on a makeshift tripod, didn’t even flinch. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe,” he said, deadpan.
It was then that you walked into the room, earbuds in, phone still in hand from your morning scroll through social media. You came to a full stop the moment your eyes landed on Bruce. You blinked. Stared.
You didn’t say a word—but the look on your face said it all.
Bruce’s eyes lit up like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Ah. Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted, gesturing to his outfit with open arms. “Would you say this fit slays? Or is it mid?”
You coughed into your fist to stifle a laugh, trying to play it cool. “Uh… it’s definitely giving… something.”
“She’s being polite,” Jason muttered darkly. “You’ve traumatized her and the rest of us. Congratulations.”
“No, no—” you shook your head, still trying not to laugh. “I just think… maybe the old money aesthetic you had going on might be more your vibe?”
Dick snorted, arms crossed as he gave Bruce another once-over. “No, no, no. Now that I think about it B, the E-boy thing kind of fits. All dark and brooding. Totally your vibe.”
“Don’t encourage him, dickhead,” Jason growled.
“Old money aesthetic?” Bruce asked, brows lifting as he ignored his sons.
You nodded, “Yeah like the slacks and button downs?” You quickly type something on your phone and turn to show him a video of some guy wearing slacks and a linen shirt on a yacht. “Like this.”
He studied it for a moment before humming. “Noted. Thank you, Y/n.”
You blinked, a light blush dusting your cheeks despite your best efforts to play it cool. “Anytime, Bruce,” you said softly, before slipping your phone back into your pocket and turning to head toward the hallway.
As you walked away a new idea came to Bruce’s mind on how to finally connect with you.
A few days later, you and Damian walked through the front doors after school, backpacks slung over your shoulders, exhaustion setting in from a long day of pretending you understood trigonometry and not strangling anyone in group projects.
You were mid-conversation—something about how the cafeteria’s idea of pasta should be considered a human rights violation—when you both stepped into the grand foyer… and froze.
There, dead center under the antique chandelier, right beside a priceless marble bust, stood Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s golden boy. Your legally adopted father. The Dark Knight himself.
Doing a TikTok dance.
His face was taut with concentration. Eyes narrowed. Jaw locked. One hand popped toward his chest while the other made an awkward half-spin, mimicking choreography from a trending dance you’d seen approximately five hundred times online—usually done by girls in crop tops, not billionaires in dress shoes.
The music—a faint, catchy beat—played from where his phone sat propped up against an expensive vase.
To his credit, at least he was back in his usual clothes: tailored slacks, button-down rolled to the elbows, no oversized graphic tees in sight. But the intensity with which he was performing the dance… made it worse.
Damian recoiled like he’d just witnessed a crime.
“What in the hells are you doing?” he demanded, voice cracking somewhere between horror, betrayal, and secondhand shame.
Bruce glanced up mid-move, barely missing a beat. “I’ve decided Wayne Enterprises needs to expand its marketing approach and reach a younger demographic. LexCorp has already begun implementing viral content strategies. I won’t allow us to fall behind.”
Damian’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “You are not seriously comparing LexCorp’s viral marketing strategy to whatever this is.”
Bruce straightened, adjusted his cuffs, and stepped away from the makeshift “stage.” “This is about relatability.”
“This is about insanity,” Damian snapped, his hands gesturing wildly toward the setup in pure disgust. “You’re wearing cufflinks and doing body rolls in front of a sculpture worth more than most people’s mortgages!”
You snorted, arms crossed as you leaned against the bannister. “I mean… Damian’s kind of right. You really think you can beat LexCorp by doing TikTok dances?”
Bruce nodded seriously. “I’ve been analyzing social media engagement metrics, and as I’ve said—we’re testing relatability.”
Damian looked like he was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. His voice rose half an octave. “You’re dancing, Father. Badly. In front of the statue of Thomas Wayne. He’s weeping in the afterlife.”
Bruce turned to him, adjusting his cufflinks with maddening composure. “If you join me,” he said smoothly, “we can say it’s giving legacy.”
Damian stared at him, stunned into silence.
You nearly doubled over laughing.
“I’m going to burn this place down,” he finally muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “And myself with it.”
But Bruce wasn’t listening. Not really. Instead, he was carefully studying you and the way your eyes lingered on his setup, flicking between the phone, the lighting, the angle. Your gaze wasn’t judging but it was assessing.
You stepped forward slowly, eyeing the phone where it sat precariously propped up against a crystal vase—an ancient, probably priceless piece that absolutely didn’t deserve to be part of this operation. With a sigh, you tilted your head. “Your video settings are all wrong. The frame rate’s low, you’ve got motion blur on, and the lighting’s going to wash out the background. It’s going to come out looking delayed and grainy.”
Bruce arched a brow but said nothing. You weren’t finished.
“And that dance?” you continued, your tone matter-of-fact. “That trend’s from, like, three months ago. No one’s doing it anymore. If you really want Wayne Enterprises to trend, you need to stay current. Or—just hire a content creator who knows what they’re doing.”
But Bruce was quiet for a beat longer, watching you. Then, calmly, he clicked off the music and picked up the phone.
“I could hire someone,” he said slowly, then glanced at you, his tone careful. “But I’d rather have someone I trust. Someone who already has the company’s best interests at heart. Someone who isn’t afraid to speak their mind with me.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the directness.
Then Bruce extended the phone toward you.
“Would you be willing to help me set this up properly?” he asked. Not as a CEO. Not as Batman. Just as… Bruce.
You hesitated for a second. Then, without a word, you stepped forward and took the phone from his hand.
“…First thing we’re doing is getting you a ring light,” you muttered. “And an actual tripod. Not a vase.”
Bruce nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Noted. Perhaps we can make a shopping trip out of it?”
You hesitate for a second before nodding.
Damian groaned, throwing his hands in the air as he turned on his heel. “I’m moving out,” he muttered, already stomping toward the stairs. “Let me know when the influencer era ends.”
You and Bruce ignored him.
You were already crouched beside the makeshift setup, fingers flying across the screen as you adjusted the settings—frame rate, resolution, exposure. Mutters of quiet critique slipped from your lips, coming from hours spent scrolling, posting, watching what worked and what didn’t.
And Bruce… listened.
Not just with patience, but with genuine focus. His arms were folded lightly, eyes following your every adjustment, nodding here and there, occasionally asking a question trying to understand your world.
He didn’t say much, but there was a look on his face. The usually serious and hardened expression softened as he listened to you.
Because for the first time since you’d arrived, the air between you wasn’t stiff or formal. It wasn’t filled with forced small talk or awkward silences.
It was comfortable. Easy.
You hadn’t noticed the shift yet. But Bruce had. And it was enough to make him believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t need to understand every trend or master every viral sound.
Maybe all he really needed to do… was keep reaching out.
seing the new Superman clearly stand with Palestine was so satisfying for me 😭
all the z!onists on this app who were hyping up the movie before it dropped must be fuming rn and honestly, I love that !! huge thanks for delivering a powerful, comic-accurate Superman that actually reflects REAL values 🫡 what a win !!!
Batman: This is a simple reconnaissance mission. Infiltrate a LexCorp facility and gather intel.
Danny: Got it. Sneak in, grab the goods, and don’t touch anything shiny.
Superman: And don’t cause trouble.
Danny: [grinning] No promises, Big Blue.
[Outside the LexCorp Facility]
Batman: Stick to the plan.
Danny: [turns invisible] What plan? I’m already inside.
Wonder Woman: [to Batman] He reminds me of Barry.
The Flash: Hey! I resent that.
[Inside LexCorp]
Danny: [phases through a wall and grabs a glowing device] Easy. Why do you guys overthink this stuff?
Cyborg: [over comms] Be careful with that. It’s probably booby-trapped.
Danny: [tilts the device] Pfft, it’s fine—
The device glows bright red and alarms start blaring.
Danny: …Okay, my bad.
[The Team Reacts]
Batman: [gritting his teeth] You had one job.
The Flash: That might’ve been a record for fastest mission failure.
Danny: Relax! I can handle this.
Superman: You set off every alarm in the building.
Danny: [grins, holding up the device] Yeah, but I got the thingy!
[LexCorp Security Arrives]
Danny: [dodging lasers] These guys are terrible shots.
Wonder Woman: [deflecting bullets with her bracelets] You’re lucky we’re here.
Danny: Or am I just giving you all a good workout? You’re welcome.
[Superman vs. LexCorp Mech]
Danny: Hey, Supes, tag out!
Superman: [lifting the mech] I don’t need help.
Danny: [blasting the mech with ectoplasm] Yeah, but I make it look cooler.
[After the Mission]
Batman: That was reckless and irresponsible.
Danny: [phasing through a chair to sit down] And yet, effective.
Cyborg: Gotta admit, Bats, the kid’s got style.
Wonder Woman: He’s brave, I’ll give him that.
The Flash: And chaotic. We should keep him.
Superman: Absolutely not.
Danny: So, what’s the verdict? Do I get a membership card or what?
Batman: No.
The Flash: Maybe.
Danny: [grinning] Sounds like a “yes” to me.
[Later, in the Batcave]
Alfred: Master Bruce, the ghost boy is raiding the pantry.
Batman: Why is he still here?
Danny: [with a mouthful of cookies] Because I’m awesome.
lex luthor x reader hcs in honor of Superman! I love Nicholas Hoult lol.
Superman spoilers below!
- in the early days of your relationship, he seems very interested in you. even more so in your obliviousness (or apathy) to his awful actions. he likes a partner who doesn't tell him what to do, so he thinks.
- as you get to know each other better and the honeymoon phase seems to pass, he gets... bored. but really? he's distracted. how can he think about you when that perfect alien is grabbing the media's attention? it should be him!
- so, perhaps he could stand to be a better partner. he's still more focused on the alien than you. for you, this is obviously a problem. thankfully, you know how to make him focus on you instead. you give him that attention he desperately desires.
- Lex loves to be the object of affection, but especially yours. he likes attention, and moreover, he likes attention from an attractive person. compliment him, tell him how handsome he looks when he's plotting against Superman. better yet? tell him every detail that you adore about him, make him feel like the only man in the world.
- he can be insecure at times, so he requires a great deal of affection and comfort that he won't directly ask you for. you'll have to pick up on the signs and figure it out yourself. if you manage to break through the tough exterior shell he puts on for everybody else, you may get him to come to you and very quietly ask to be held.
- getting through that shell of his is hard, but not impossible. Lex wants deeply to have somebody who he can be vulnerable with, somebody who is just as crazy about him as he is about Superman. not that he'd ever tell you that. you'll need to persevere through his unsavory qualities, but through all that, you'll find that he has a soft spot on the inside.
- after work, provided he's comfortable with you, he loves coming home to have dinner and cuddle in bed. he doesn't cook, so it would be nice if you did. he adores feeling pampered and taken care of by his partner, especially when he's starving and exhausted after a long day of hate-watching big blue.
- the cuddling is the best part. he'll sometimes wrap himself around you, only occasionally letting you be the big spoon. he's not exactly warm, but you can tell he's trying to melt his heart enough for you. Lex wants to make you feel safe in his arms, but he likes being made to feel safe as well.
- Lex wants to be privately affectionate rather than publicly. he'll wrap his arm around you at a gala, kiss you on the cheek, maybe even allow you to kiss his lips around other people. but anything more? anything more intimate than that? no, he'd be embarrassed for weeks if you even tried. he'd rather keep his blushes and quiet pleased noises to himself, thank you very much.
- his favorite way to cuddle consists of him laying his head on your lap or your chest, letting his eyes fall shut and his mind go blank for once in his life as he allows you to wrap your arms around him. kiss his forehead or rub his back, it's clear that he's in need of your love.
office siren!reader telling bruce wayne that she’s getting a new job cus she doesn’t want any office drama of people finding out they’re together and HR getting involved? he’s a bit bothered at first but ultimately he understands and helps her prep for the new job(shopping, etc)
bonus points if the new job has better pay and reader has a higher title(like she’s more in charge) and that lowkey turns him on lol
moving up (and moving on)
pairing: office siren!reader x bruce wayne
summary: reader tells bruce she’s quitting her job as his secretary to avoid office drama. he’s not thrilled—until he finds out her new job might outrank his.
wc: ~1.2k
officesiren!reader masterlist
You tell him over coffee.
Of course you do. Because Bruce Wayne has a schedule that runs on caffeine and calendar alerts, and this kind of conversation needs a time slot.
He looks good this morning—tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled, forearms flexing as he scrolls through an endless sea of unread emails. Gotham might be chaos, but the man himself? Impeccable. Even before 8AM.
“Bruce,” you start, voice smooth—maybe too smooth. You sound like you’re about to negotiate a merger, not break news.
He glances up, that sharp blue gaze already scanning for trouble. “Something wrong?”
You take a breath. “I’m resigning.”
That makes him stop completely. The tablet hits the desk with a muted thud.
You can almost see the switch flip—Bruce Wayne, billionaire CEO, temporarily replaced by Bruce, your boyfriend, trying (and failing) to keep his composure.
“Resigning?” he repeats, slow, like the word itself offends him. “Why?”
“Because,” you say carefully, “I’d rather not have HR breathing down your neck for fraternization, and I’d rather not deal with office gossip about how the boss’s secretary is sleeping with him.”
He leans back, jaw tightening. “You think I care about what they say?”
“I don’t.” You cross your legs, meeting his gaze evenly. “But you care about your reputation, and I care about mine. And if I’m being honest, I’m ready for something… new.”
His silence stretches. You can see him trying to stay calm—the crease between his brows deepening, his thumb tapping against his coffee cup.
“What kind of ‘something new’?” he asks finally, and his voice is too controlled.
You smile, sweet and unbothered. “Senior operations consultant. LexCorp made an offer. Better pay. More responsibility.” You tilt your head, adding casually, “Technically, it’s a higher title than yours, on paper.”
The look on his face is priceless.
There’s the initial flicker of irritation—LexCorp, of all companies—and then something else. Something darker. His gaze lingers on you, slow and deliberate, like he’s seeing you differently.
“Higher title?” he repeats, voice low.
You nod. “Mm-hmm. You might have to start calling me ma’am.”
That earns you a soft huff of laughter, and the tension finally cracks. He pushes up from his chair, rounds the desk, and leans down until he’s crowding you against the leather armrest.
“Careful,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips. “You say things like that and I might start liking the sound of it.”
You grin, smug. “Didn’t think Gotham’s golden boy liked being bossed around.”
“I like you,” he corrects simply, and presses a kiss to your temple. “And if this makes you happy, I’ll deal with HR gossip—and LexCorp—if I have to.”
⸻
By Saturday, he’s the one helping you pick out blouses and heels for your new job. You’re in the fitting room, spinning in front of the mirror while he sits on a low bench, scrolling through his phone and pretending not to stare.
When you step out in a fitted blazer that screams executive energy, his jaw actually goes slack for a second.
“Well?” you ask, smoothing your hands down your sides.
He looks up at you like you just ended every meeting he’ll ever attend. “You’re going to destroy them,” he says finally, voice husky.
“Good,” you say, smiling. “They’ll never see me coming.”
Bruce leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes dark. “Oh, I think I might need to call in sick on your first day,” he mutters, almost to himself.
You laugh, tossing your hair. “Don’t you dare, Mr. Wayne.”
He grins up at you—soft, almost boyish—and it’s the kind of look that reminds you why you fell for him in the first place. The man behind the empire. The one who doesn’t mind stepping back so you can rise.
“Fine,” he concedes, standing to kiss your cheek. “But you should know something, sweetheart.”
You hum. “What’s that?”
He leans in, his breath warm against your ear.
“Doesn’t matter what your title is,” he says, voice low. “You’ll always be the one in charge of me.”
an: i had no idea what other company to do soooo… lexcorp it is
Guy Gardner has the same issues with Superman that Lex does. The same jealousy, the same desperate desire for the attention and admiration of the masses. But he doesn't have the same capacity for mental gymnastics. So instead of villainy he just goes "I should do what he does but be cooler."
