#bale!bruce wayne

[allysunny]

Pls pls pls friends to lovers with an ass load of pining!!! I love the trope where literally everyone but her can see that he’s in love with her and they’re basically dating without the title. She’s in love with him too but a little more guarded/scared. They have fun traditions like a book club, and Bruce gives her the princess treatment. Pls pls pls, I’d literally love you forever if you wrote this

Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 15k words

Warnings: Friends to lovers, pining, two idiots in love but way too blind to see it, Alfred being a very sassy butler (I love Michael Cane sm), possibly OOC Bruce (I've never written for him before), some angst, love confessions, Christmas! and mistletoe, eventual romance of course! Not beta, we die like Harvey Dent.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay, but as I told you, uni was kicking my ass. I'm back now, and hopefully I'll be able to write a lot!

So, this is my first Bale!Bruce request, and I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm super, super nervous because I've never written for this man in my entire life? I love this trilogy so bad and even rewatched all the movies as I was doing this, because I wanted to make sure I got him right. Sure, he's a vigilante and a billionaire and a supposed playboy, but he's also just a man, and I sort of wanted to explore that.

There's so many layers to this man, it is insane. If there's anything OOC about him, please do let me know. I swear to god I tried my best, and I hope you like the finished result.

This is my longest word so far - I'm so sorry! It was supposed to be kinda short and sweet but I just ran with it! I don't know if it was for the better or worst, but I hope you guys like it nevertheless. Again, I'm sorry if it's somewhat OOC, I tried to get everyone's personalities just right. I'm scared of not doing these movies justice. I also took some liberties with this - Bruce and Rachel don't have feelings for each other, Bruce often goes to charity galas, etc. Small things.

Also, it's set somewhat in between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight!

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

Ever since he was a child, he knew most people were after him and his family for the money. Family friends cashing in favours done ages ago, things as small as having once lent his father an umbrella, women pretending to befriend his mother to accompany her whenever she went shopping, kids at school getting closer to him only to get a peek at the famed Wayne Manor and all the wonders it hid inside.

He'd rather be alone than have such leeches around him, surrounding him like vultures, waiting for an opening.

Kids who'd mocked him would apologise profusely days later, having learned about his family, offering their friendship. Once Bruce made it clear he had no intentions of inviting anyone to his place (he was just shy, really), they'd take back their so called “friendship”.

He was better off without such people.

They were few, the people he could trust. And even those he called his “friends”, he didn't trust completely. His childhood best friend, Rachel, had grown up and busied herself at the DA’s office. She reached out to him after he’d returned after all those years in training, but she was a busy woman, and Bruce had found a new passion himself – patrolling the streets of Gotham dressed up as a bat. They would talk often, but it simply wasn’t the same. They were still friends of course – childhood could link two people – but he’d changed, and so had she. No matter how well they got along, they were changed people.

So, he was back to square one, with no people to truly confide in.

There was, after all, a reason only Alfred knew of his secret identity.

No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a stranger to loneliness.

He preferred the peace and quiet of his home office to the loud ambiences of the parties thrown by pretentious people who wanted to pass by as charitable, and found that sometimes, being by himself was a better option.

Bruce Wayne could count with his hands how many “friends” he had, and how many were simply greedy bloodsuckers trying to get to his fortune.

All but you, though.

Never you.

Bruce met you a few years ago, at the bakery you used to work at.

He wasn't a regular - hell, he didn't usually eat at places like those. Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, dined at the best restaurants - a truth universally acknowledged.

But after being stuck in traffic for about thirty minutes (he'd sent Alfred on a makeshift vacation, having miraculously been able to convince the old man to take some time for himself), he decided to exit the cab and go for a stroll.

It'd been a stressing day, with about a hundred reports coming in for him to sign at Wayne Enterprises, the prototypes for his new motorcycle had proved to be a failure, and he was simply exhausted. A walk would do him good, clear his head.

That's when he walked by the bakery, noticing the colourfully decorated cupcakes and pastries on the shelves. The pastel-coloured frostings seemed far too pretty to eat, and curiosity got the best of him, compelling him to go inside and purchase one.

That's when he first saw you.

You took a while to take his order, quickly informing him you were working all by yourself. One of your coworkers was in labour, the other on vacation. You were baking, cleaning and waitressing on your own.

Bruce was surprised, to say the least. You were taking over each station, keeping calm even under pressure and tending to each task diligently.

When asked who baked the frosted treats, you smiled and told him you baked those yourself. Apparently, it was your first time exposing them, the owner of the bakery finally giving you some leeway to try your own cakes and sweets.

“No one's tried them yet, though,” you said, sheepishly. “People don’t really want to try anything new. They’re scared my food is going to suck. I keep telling myself they’re just scared of change, you know. To keep my spirits high.”

“I hear that,” Bruce replied. If he knew anything about people, it was that they were all terrified of the unknown. “It’s Gotham – what can you do? You bump into lunatics every other day. I’ll have the one on the shop window, the one with the pink frosting.”

Your eyes sparkled then, and Bruce swore he’d do anything to see them shine again and again.

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful smile playing in your lips.

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

You gave him an enthusiastic nod and went to retrieve the cupcake, placing it on top of a small place along with a fork. He paid for the treat along with a cup of coffee and sat down on a nearby table.

Unlocking his phone, he found a few messages from Alfred, asking him if he hadn't burnt down the Manor yet. Sure, maybe he couldn't cook nor clean nor take care of himself that well, but that didn't warrant a fire brigade to go check up on him, now did it?

Burned to the ground, he texted back in a joking manner. All that's left are the red slippers I gave to you last Christmas. Hadn't you lost them? It's a miracle.

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

Bruce chuckled, assuring his trusted butler all was well, and locking his phone once again.

If he looked from the corner of his eye, he could see you, nervously chewing on your lip while you looked at his plate expectantly.

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

Bruce tasted the coffee first, deciding it was far better than whatever he was drinking at his office, and slowly cut the cupcake with his fork (because why would he use his hands). HIs eyes widened once he finally bit into it.

It was good, really good. It tasted like strawberries - not that artificial strawberry flavoured crap he was sure was in most of the food out there - actual strawberries.

The frosting was sugary, but not too much that it became nauseous, and the mix of flavours melted in his mouth.

You’d approached him, breath hitched as you awaited his verdict.

“So?” You asked, after a while, giving him an apologetic smile. “How is it?”

“It’s good.”

“Really?” You graced him with the brightest of smiles, holding onto your little notepad. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Way to go, Bruce. Not corny at all. You’re the man.

Pulling the chair next to him, you sighed in relief and sat down.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared no one was gonna like them.”

“The people of Gotham are idiots if they don’t want to try these.” He took another bite of his cupcake and your smile only got bigger.

“Well, you said it. It’s Gotham. Even something as simple as a different coffee order will get their panties in a twist. Look at how everyone reacted to that Bat guy. He takes out a few criminals and cleans the streets, and suddenly he’s the bad guy?” you inquire.

“Bat guy?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know! Bat guy! They’re calling him the Batman. You’ve probably seen him on TV. Black cape, black cowl, black, well, clothes?”

“Ah,” he nodded, “The Batman, yes. I might have heard of him.” Might have. “What’s his deal anyway? I think the police are calling the guy a criminal.”

You scoffed, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “A criminal? The guy’s doing a better job than most cops. I think they’re just jealous. And pissed that someone’s not up for briberies.”

Bruce nodded, before turning to his cupcake. You thought what Batman did was right. He brimmed with pride.

“I don’t know – he sounds like your typical Arkham resident to me. Dressed like a bat, running around with a black cape?” It was practically wired into his brain by now, the way he attempted to detach his Bruce Wayne persona from his Batman one. Even if he’d just met you, even if you seemed genuine, he couldn’t help but keep up the façade. “They should probably lock him up.”

“That’s nonsense!” you exclaimed. “He’s the only one willing to do something right for this city. The only one who’s not being compensated by turning a blind eye to criminals like half of the GCPD are. The streets are safer with him around.”

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

And wasn’t that the reason for all of this? To make Gotham a better place? To clean the streets, to give people some hope in amidst all the chaos and darkness? Wasn’t that his goal – to give Gotham citizens their city back to them, and allow them to live unruled by fear? 

“Anyway - I’m sorry, here I am, sitting next to you while you probably want to eat by yourself. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Taking care of the shop by myself makes me feel a tad lonely.” You gave him another apologetic smile (although this one did not reach your eyes), and got up, hurrying behind the counter.

For a few moments, Bruce sat in silence, eating his cupcake, and sipping from his coffee. Good stuff – nothing like the ones Alfred prepared for him, but still good.

When he glanced back up, he watched as you quickly washed some dishes, brow furrowed in concentration. He took you all in, the way you carefully rinsed every dish, ensuring it was stable on the tray nearby before moving onto the next one. Once or twice, you looked up, observing the city through the windows. He saw you sigh softly and get back to work.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. A big one.

It wasn’t only that you were strikingly beautiful – that helped too, quite a lot – but there was something more to you that Bruce couldn’t really pinpoint and wanted to get to know more of. He was tired of fake people. Of all the fake smiles and fake laughter and fake parties and having to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. It was all for the greater good, sure, but hiding behind a mask was draining. No one knew that better than Bruce Wayne.

Before he realised it, he’d stood up, placing his plate and cup on top of the counter. The soft “clack” of it made you turn around and your eyes widened slightly.

“Oh – “ you mumbled. “It’s okay, I usually just do that.”

“Lifting a cup and a plate won’t kill me, I assure you.”

You chuckled and took the dishes, turning to the sink.

“You’re not at all like what people say.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like they describe you,” you said with a small shrug. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear and Bruce’s hand twitched slightly, perhaps wishing to tuck it back himself.

“So you know who I am?” he asked, a curious smile forming in his lips. He wasn’t expecting to be completely ignorant of him – hell, it’s impossible to be unaware of his existence when you live in Gotham.

“I have a television and friends who love gossip magazines. It’s preposterous to think of a person who hasn’t come across your face, considering it’s slapped in nearly every tabloid ever.” You chuckled, soaking his plate. “And there was the matter of your credit card – I thought American Express was a myth.”

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

“Everyone says you’re an arrogant jerk – “ The words come out of your mouth before you can process them, and he chuckles mentally, finding the way you stumbled over your words quite amusing. “I mean, that’s what they say – I’m not saying that you’re one, I just – I’m just repeating what’s been told to me. Anyway, yeah. You don’t seem like that at all.”

“And what makes you say that? We’ve spoken for all but five minutes,” he cocked an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You think for a while, gripping the towel at your hands and shrug again.

“I don’t know.” You turn to him. “Call it intuition, but I just felt like you were being genuine. I mean, you don’t have a bazillion models hanging off your arms – and it looked like you walked all the way here. No fancy sports car like the ones in the magazines either.” Another shrug. “You just seemed like a random guy when you walked in. No fancy titles whatsoever.”

Just a random guy.

Sometimes it felt like such a thing was unattainable for Bruce.

In front of the cameras, he had to be spoiled, rich, reckless playboy Bruce who bought hotels on a whim, hung around with hot models and spent his money on useless luxuries such as cars and yachts. When no one was watching, he had the weight of Gotham in his shoulders as Batman, sacrificing his mind and body every night just to make sure his people were safe.

It was impossible for Bruce to be just a random guy, no matter how much he wanted to.

But the way you said it – like you truly believed it – made him think twice about it.

You weren’t grovelling at his feet. Nor were you pretending not to know him as many others had done, in order to appear mysterious and different, and therefore catch his attention. No, you were just being you – or what he hoped was you. You knew who he was, admitted to seeing his face and knowing of his affairs, but that didn’t stop you from treating him like a normal person.

Just a random guy.

“Or maybe I’m just biased because you liked my cupcakes.” There it was again, that lovely smile of yours.

And you were funny too.

“I’ll admit, that was my tactic all along.” Bruce allowed a hint of playfulness to tint his voice, and your smile widened at that.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, just Bruce.”

“Alright then. Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” You smiled and went back to cleaning the counter. (You half expected him to leave without saying a word – why’d a billionaire entertain your company for more than a few minutes? – and were surprised when he stayed.)

“I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but,” he started, “Would you like to join me for lunch one of these days?”

You eyed him curiously and cocked your head to the side, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

“Why? I don’t exactly belong with your people, Bruce – whoever they might be.”

“I was actually just hoping I’d get some free cupcakes.”

At this, you snorted out loud, covering your mouth with your hand. The other clients in the bakery looked at you with a slightly disgusted face, and it only made you laugh louder.

Once you stopped giggling (and after having wiped some tears from your eyes), you nodded and turned to him.

“Alright, fine. Lunch sounds great. Although – I’m sure you’re followed everywhere. And I don’t really want to be the latest gossip magazine cover.” You crossed your arms. Bruce nodded in understanding. After all, he knew how troublesome the media could be, especially when they were looking for any crumbs that might get them any insight into someone’s life.

(Un)fortunately for him, they couldn’t see past the playboy persona.

“I’ll take care of that – don’t worry.” Was his honest response. “Let’s say it’s easy for me to… become invisible.”

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

“And how are you going to do that? Gonna wear a cap and sunglasses? A wig? Do we get to wear disguises? Maybe you could wear a mask!” Funny.

“I’ll just leave the American Express at home. Do you think that new Pizza place everyone’s been talking about accepts hundreds?” Bruce joked.

Your snort resonated through the bakery again, and the couple that had glanced at you earlier left, shaking their heads and muttering something about “decorum”.

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

Turns out that around you, he could be just a random guy, like he always wanted.

He started going to your bakery more and more, and convinced your boss to let you experiment with your cupcakes however you wanted.

“How the hell did you manage that?” you asked him, mouth open in wonder. “She told me I had full control of the menu! Two weeks ago, she said she didn’t want to try my sweets!”

“I’m very persuasive,” he replied, biting into a banana flavoured muffin – one of your more recent experiments. “It’s a bit chunky. Kind of bland, doesn’t melt on your mouth like the others do.”

“Yeah, I think I went overboard with the flour…” you mumble, writing something down on your notepad. “Anyways, how persuasive can you be? This woman has drunk the same cup of coffee for like, 40 years. She hates change.”

“Let’s just say I worked my regular Wayne charm.”

At that, you rolled your eyes and hit him with your towel but couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips.

He’d stop by every day after work, eager to try out your new recipes and have a nice chat. It was freeing to have someone he could call his friend, with whom he could have conversations that weren’t about his job, his money, or his other affairs. It felt nice to be able to share things with you, things he couldn’t find it in himself to share with other people.

It took him a while, but he eventually told you things about himself. Slowly.

He told you about his parents, how much he looked up to his father and how he adored his mother. He told you about his childhood, playing in the gardens of his Manor or watching his father fiddle with the stethoscope, hoping one day he could make a difference just like him. He told you how sometimes he would just watch his mother apply makeup in her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked. Other women of the high society always looked like they had this world and the next worth of makeup on their faces, but his mother was able to enhance all her natural features with a simple eye pencil or some lipstick.

“Makeup shouldn’t be used to turn yourself into something new,” she’d once told him, applying some sort of clear powder on her face. “Just to complement the beauty you already have.”

He found it easy to relate to that. Not the makeup, necessarily, but the whole “turning into a new person”. Batman was no different than him, nor was he someone different. He just brought out Bruce’s biggest desires, to keep Gotham safe.

In return, you told him about your childhood. About your first years in school, your friends and family. You told him about your passions, your wishes. How you wanted to travel the world and read as many books as possible. How you liked to laze around some Saturdays but couldn’t stay home and just had to get up and leave in others.

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

Some days, you’d be running around the Manor, goofing around with Alfred, and whipping up new recipes with him, the both of you jamming to old jazz that played on the radio – Alfred had been teaching you swing, and you enjoyed spinning around the room with him as lively tunes played.

(In fact, Bruce had walked in on you and him dancing a few times, and couldn’t help but lean against the doorway, watching and you laughed loudly and tried not to fall whenever his butler spun you around.)

It also went without saying that Alfred was over the moon now that his master no longer seemed to be alone. You might only be one person, but the Manor came alive whenever you were in it, and he relished in knowing Bruce finally had someone he could trust besides himself.

At first, Bruce thought of you as a friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to have a good time with and relax. But as weeks turned to months, he found himself developing stronger feelings. It wasn’t about “having fun” and relaxing anymore, it was now about seeing you, making sure you were alright, listening to your every thought and feelings.

He thought it was normal, though. After all, aren’t friends supposed to care for each other and be eager to spend time together? After all, it had been a while since he had friends. At least ones that spoke to him on the regular, that were there for him. This whole thing was new to him. So, he kept these feelings hidden, convinced they were nothing but the norm, enjoying whatever silly activities you engaged in.

You two had, after all, your own little rituals.

You loved reading – always had, and believed to continue doing so until you were dead and buried. And despite not having a lot of time to do so, Bruce did too. So, it wasn’t long before you two created your own little book club along with Alfred.

You would prepare a batch of cookies, Alfred would make some tea, and Bruce would wait by the fireplace in the living room, since there was really nothing he could contribute with but his insight on the books you were reading.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his tea, and placing the mug on the coffee table by his feet.

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said – it was a terrible book.”

“I think you’re the first person ever to call The Great Gatsby a ‘terrible book’.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alfred, who was intent on hearing whatever you were going to say next. He too was quite curious, but he had an inkling he knew where you were going with this.

You just shrugged your shoulders and brought your legs to your chair, sitting on top of them. You felt at home in Wayne Manor. Bruce had told you to make yourself comfortable after the third time you visited, and you wasted no time in doing so.

“Jay Gatsby is one pretentious motherfucker,” you say.

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

“Sorry – I meant; Jay Gatsby is one pretentious douchebag.” You bowed your head towards Alfred and the butler nodded in acknowledgment.

“Wait – why?”

“Are you kidding me?” All you could do was scoff. “Gatsby is an obsessive narcissist, an egocentric pathological liar who cares about no one else other than himself, and much probably, a psychopath.”

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

“And the way he objectifies Daisy throughout the whole book – he doesn’t even love her! He loves the idea of her. He’s a jerk.”

Bruce couldn’t even interrupt you, because you were on a spree, gesticulating with your arms and talking fast.

“But let’s be honest here, it’s not like she loves him either.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Of course not! She’s a shallow, materialistic, spoiled brat and I can’t stand her!” You finished your little speech by taking a bite out of a cookie and crossing your arms.

“Huh. Right.” Bruce said, grabbing his copy of the book. “Well, I thought it was a great book. And I don’t think Gatsby is any of the things you said.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really. I think he is a misunderstood soul.”

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

“Yes, but you aren’t, and I would like to keep this household clean, for dear Master and Missus Wayne’s sake.” He replied casually, giving you that look you’d learn to interpret as “do not test me you silly little baker, for I am British and have the high ground”, and to which you just stuck your tongue out.

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

“And, well, I think he truly did love Daisy.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, no, and here’s why, he did everything for her.”

“Name one thing.”

“Well, he waited five whole years for her. I think that’s rather romantic. He went great lengths to impress Daisy and win her love. The parties, the money, his whole persona – it wasn’t him, but he did it all for Daisy.” Bruce explained calmly. Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows and just sipped from his teacup quietly.

“Bruce, the whole thing was a circus.” You reached in front of you to grab another cookie and took a bite out of it, missing the way your friend’s gaze dropped to your lips and then returned to your eyes in just a millisecond. “He was just showing off.”

“Perhaps,” Bruce said, “But perhaps he was just trying to be someone worthy of her. I’m sure love can make people do crazy things.” He wasn’t one to talk. It’s not like he knew what “love” was. He’d crushed on Rachel as kids, but that’s all it was, a silly childhood crush.

Perhaps the love he had for his city could count. He did do crazy things for it. Dressing up as a bat was an example.

You nodded your head a few times, pondering his answer.

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t think so. If he loved her, he should’ve just said it. There was no need for all the show.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows once again. A very you-ish reply. He was enjoying this immensely.

Bruce replayed her words in his head. He should’ve said it. Surely, it wasn’t that easy. Jay Gatsby wasn’t your average man. He was a mystery. He had secrets and things he needed to hide. It wasn’t as easy as just walking up to Daisy and telling her “I love you”. It wasn’t that simple. “You think so?” he asked.

“Well, yeah! Absolutely – I mean, why complicate things?” you replied. “He should’ve just dropped the luxuries, the parties, he should’ve just stopped with all of the eccentric millionaire thing, looked her in the eyes and say, ‘I love you’. Simple.”

"Absolutely! I mean, why complicate things? Just look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I love you.’ Simple.”

“Simple, huh?”

You nodded, taking another sip from your tea – you drank it sickeningly sweet, with lots of honey, while he preferred one or two spoons of sugar.

“Yeah. Simple. No need for the fancy parties, and mysterious acts. Just be genuine.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he mumbled. “But sometimes people have reasons for not saying what’s in their hearts. Sometimes they must hide their feelings.” It was true. You didn’t know he was Batman – you couldn’t. He needed to keep you safe. All you knew was that he worked a lot, plenty of times exhausting himself and arriving home super late. It was for the best.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully, which earned him a curious look from the both of you.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Please, do continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go on.

You gave him a weird look but simply turned to face Bruce once again.

“Reasons? Like what?”

Bruce couldn’t look you in the eye now. He shrugged and got suddenly very interested by the coffee table by his feet.

“Fear, maybe. Fear of what might happen if they open up. Fear of losing someone precious.”

You hummed, “Well, in my book, it’s always better to be honest and take the risk. Life’s too short for illusions. If Gatsby had just said it, maybe things would’ve been different. Who knows? But I still think he was one pompous son of a bitch.” You leaned back in your chair with a smug grin and finished the rest of your tea.

Alfred just excused himself and made his way towards the kitchen.

You certainly did bring some life into this once empty house.

You were lazing around in a Sunday afternoon, mindlessly scrolling your phone as a rerun of a show you liked played on TV. Even after a few years, it could still get some laughs out of you, and you’d look at the screen and smile.

All of a sudden, the couch dipped next to you.

Bruce had jumped over it, and landed next to you, sitting down comfortably, as if parkouring around Wayne Manor was something he did on the regular.

“Shit! Holy – Bruce!” You nearly jumped out of your seat, clutching your chest. Sometimes you wondered if Bruce wasn’t some sort of ninja. Being able to hide himself and be so silent wasn’t normal, and at times, to be frank, a little bit creepy.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and turned to you.

“Friday night, charity gala, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if he’d simply asked you what the weather was like outside.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the Carringtons are throwing a big party this Friday. It’s supposed to be this big fundraiser. The profits will go for new police facilities. As if those corrupt idiots needed them…” He sighed. “And clearly, Bruce Wayne must attend. And, as expected, he has to bring someone.”

You whined and threw your head back in frustration. You’d been to a couple of galas with Bruce. Most of them were dreadfully boring, filled with fake people whose only purpose there was to flaunt their money and pretend to care about whatever topics seemed most controversial. You hated them. The fake smiles, the gross men leering on you, the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Bruce (not that you minded. After all, you two were just friends. It just made you uncomfortable that they were so forward about his advances. Clearly, he wasn’t alone. He had you. Could they not see it? But of course, you two were just friends. Which meant you weren’t jealous. You just felt sorry for them, and extremely uncomfortable whenever they looked at, spoke to, or touched him. Duh.)

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

“I’m busy. Sorry Bruce, I have plans.” What a liar.

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

“Alfred checked your schedule – you’re free for the next two weeks.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back at the kitchen, where Alfred innocently prepared a few sandwiches.

“Damn him! I swear that man must’ve been a British spy!” you muttered, shaking your head.

“So, are you coming with me?” Bruce pressed on.

“I can’t – I have to return some videotapes.” You replied smugly.

Bruce gave you a dry laugh and threw a pillow in your direction, which you failed to dodge.

“Very funny. I’m serious – I can’t go by myself. Look, I know what this is going to sound like, but the Carringtons are only doing this to show off. They don’t care about the police; they want to show Gotham just how rich their grandfather’s money has made them. They’ve been around for years and never once donated – why now?”

“Just because you have to go, doesn’t mean that I have!” you too threw a pillow at him, but as always, his reflexes were on point, and he managed to catch it mid-air.

“Look, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

Bruce gave you a blank stare – that excuse did not stick anymore, not after he’d bought you a different dress for each party he had taken you to (“Think of it as a thank you gift”, he said).

“Just take a model. Or an actress. Or some other celebrity. You know me Bruce, I don’t belong with those people. They’re not my crowd.” You grabbed another pillow and prepared to throw it at him.

“I can’t stand another night of pretending to spend my free time buying hotels and yachts.” Bruce said your name softly and you let your guard down, lowering your arm. “It’s not me, and you know it.” You looked into those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to have soften – those eyes of his always made you melt, and you often found yourself saying yes to his every whim.

You pondered your choices.

He could take a model or an actress. The headlines would love speculating who the hell was Bruce Wayne messing around with this time. He’d have to pretend to be someone he was not for a whole evening – though you didn’t know why; only that, for some reason, he had a reputation to upkeep – and the next morning you’d wake up and seethe as you watched the shots paparazzi got of your best friend and some random floozy slobbering on top of him.

Or, you could go with him. It’d be a pain in the ass to pretend to like all of those people and to interact with those phony idiots who thought money was worth anything and would try their best to snake their ways in Bruce’s close circle. But you’d spend a nice evening with your friend, wear a pretty dress, drink some expensive champagne and be able to laugh at everyone else with him. There were worse fates than that, you were sure.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll come with you.”

Bruce did a small “yes” gesture with his arm, and then grabbed a nearby pillow. “Now, where were we?”

“Oh – OH don’t you dare, Bruce Wayne!” You lifted your arm once again, but before you could throw the pillow in his direction, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. You fell on top of his body, hands on either side of his head as they bore the weight of your body. Your face was inches away from his, and all you could do was stare into those brown eyes that had you so weak.

You blinked repeatedly, before quickly getting up. Your cheeks were flaring up and you grabbed your phone, standing up from the couch.

Bruce, on his end, was speechless. He watched as you stood up, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I – I should go. I need to… yeah, I gotta – I gotta do something. I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, and within seconds, you were out the door.

When you were gone, Alfred left the kitchen and walked towards the couch where Bruce was sitting, still silently staring at the wall.

“Is everything alright, Master Wayne?” he asked, although he didn’t really need an answer. He knew exactly what was going on with him. After all, he’d raised this boy like his own son for years.

“Yes,” Bruce cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am. Everything’s fine. How about those sandwiches you were making?” He tried changing the topic, but it was too late.

As Alfred walked back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think that he should probably schedule an optometrist appointment for his master. After all, one can’t help but be concerned when such a smart, capable man was so blind to matters of the heart. Almost as blind as a bat, one could say. He’d keep this joke for later. Bruce would hate it. Even better.

Funnily enough, Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought Bruce was blind to his feelings.

In fact, it seemed like everyone could see how smitten the Wayne billionaire was with you.

When you two went out, he would look at you with this sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You walked into the party, arm linked with his, and it was as if the whole world stopped to look at you two.

Everyone knew about your existence – it wasn’t the first time you accompanied Bruce to parties – Bruce Wayne and his close friend. Friend. Yeah, sure. If the glances he stole were any indication, the Wayne heir was nothing but completely enamoured with you. In fact, it was incredible how much he’d changed. His whole attitude changed when he was accompanied by you. No longer was he the reckless billionaire who drank too much and humiliated himself, but the elegant man who liked to engage in conversations (as long as the topics were interesting) and had a heart of gold.

Yes, everyone seemed to spot the change in demeanour whenever you two were together.

“Bruce!” A voice could be heard from the distance, and Rachel Dawes made her way towards the both of you. She smiled and spoke your name once she noticed you were the one accompanying her childhood friend, before hugging you. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you here!”

You hugged her back and gave her a genuine smile. You’d met Rachel before more than a few times – she was a lovely young woman with a great sense of justice, and you were sure she was going to do great things for Gotham’s wellbeing. You also enjoyed her company greatly, since she had once told you all of the embarrassing stories about Bruce’s childhood. “I had no idea you were going to be here!”

“Yeah, well,” she looked around and smiled, seemingly looking for someone. “I was just as surprised as you were.”

Then, a very familiar face emerged from the crowd, calling out “Rachel!” and walking to her side.

“There you were – you left so abruptly; I thought something was wrong.” The man said, before turning to look at you and Bruce. You took him in. Dirty blond hair and a familiar cleft chin. You furrowed your eyebrows, before it finally clicked in.

“You’re Harvey Dent – I’ve seen you on TV before,” you said, and he smiled in acknowledgement.

“That would be me, yes.” He put forward his hand, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

Harvey then turned to look at Bruce, extending his hand to him.

“And you must be Bruce Wayne. Rachel talks about you a lot.”

Bruce shook it and nodded.

“Hopefully she hasn’t disclosed everything about me, otherwise I’d be ruined.”

The two men chuckled, and you took that opportunity to look at Rachel. You looked from her to Harvey, opened your mouth and wiggled your eyebrows, earning a laugh from her. Rachel moved to your side as Bruce and Harvey spoke about Gotham and took your arm.

“Well, well, Miss Dawes. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” you asked in a hushed tone, still wiggling your eyebrows up and down. “How’d you meet?”

“At work. Harvey is running for district attorney. One thing led to another, and…” she trailed off, and you nudged her torso with your arm.

“And now you’re shagging future attorney Harvey Dent. Look at you go!”

Rachel covered her mouth with her hands and supressed a scoff.

“You’re unbelievable, and I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth ever! It’s just a casual thing, we’ve only gone on a few dates. Besides, you’re the one attending a charity gala with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. I think every woman in this room has you on a death list.”

“Pftt,” you waved your hand dismissively, “You know we’re just friends. Nothing for those women to be jealous about.”

“Ah, I see. You’re just friends.” Rachel nodded, feigning seriousness in her voice.

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

“That face you always do,” you motioned towards her face, nearly pouting. “We are! And that’s the end of the discussion! I don’t even know why we’re talking about my non-existent relationship with Bruce when you’re probably going to be First Lady someday – this is huge.”

Rachel swatted you with her purse and returned to Harvey’s side before giving you a cheeky smile – it felt nice to have a girl friend you could talk to in these scenarios. Usually, it was just you and Bruce, which, however pleasant, wasn’t the same thing as having a girl in there. You were happy to catch her off work – Rachel seemed like a different person at the office. While there, she maintained a strong and serious attitude, you were happy to see her when she had no work business to worry about and could simply be a girl with you.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much of your time, Mr. Wayne,” Harvey said, shaking Bruce’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet Rachel’s oldest friend.” He then turned to you, “And a pleasure to meet you too, Miss.” “Likewise,” you replied.

Bruce nodded.

“Of course. I’ll be sure to send you a nice bottle of Chardonnay when you’re elected district attorney,” he said in his best careless billionaire voice, and nodded at Rachel before the two walked away. “Who would’ve thought,” he muttered to you, beckoning a butler who was carrying a tray of champagne glasses close to him.

“Well, I think they’re lovely together,” you smiled and grabbed a glass, smiling once the liquid hit your lips. Champagne was always welcome.

“Well, you think everyone looks lovely together. You’re a sap.” You laugh at Bruce’s comment and hold onto his arm. He brings you close, absentmindedly, and the two of you walk around the party, occasionally being stopped by the average donor.

After eating some entrees and mingling with the guests, soft music started to play and ring throughout the room. You looked up, pleasantly surprised, and tugged at Bruce’s arm.

“Come on,”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – he was growing tired of pretending to share the same interests as these vile people. He wanted a respite from keeping the charade up, so he gladly took your hand and led you to the middle of what had become the dancefloor. You two weren’t the only ones in there, a couple more pairs having decided to dance.

Bruce gently held your waist and pulled you close to him, his other hand coming to lift yours.

“Thank you,” he spoke, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes glued onto the two of you.

“I could see you were about to actually punch that man right in the face,” you chuckled, looking at the person in question. He was a middle-aged man who could probably stand to lose a few pounds for the sake of his health, who was trying to talk Bruce into introducing him a couple of models. You just had to come to the rescue, because Bruce actually looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Thankfully, he was a good actor and simply promised the man he would surely hook him up with the woman of his dreams.

“I think it goes without saying I’m not introducing jack shit to him. I’m pretty sure he’s assaulted his female employers. I should have someone investigate it.”

“My, my. Bruce Wayne, ever the White Knight.” You smiled, and you could swear that for some minutes, the entire world faded away as the soft melodies of Camille Saint-Saëns filled the air.

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

The two of you kept dancing. You found looking into his eyes extremely hard, so you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at behind his shoulder continuously.

“I still haven’t told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Bruce finally broke the silence between you two, and you returned his gaze. He’d bought you a floor-length black John Galliano gown with delicate lace trim and a bias cut, and you had actually screamed into your pillow once you saw it – it was far too pretty.

“Thank you,” you reply, brushing some invisible dust from his shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Bruce lowered his voice and looked you in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

The two of you stopped dancing for a few moments, and you were unable to look away from his almost magnetic gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and you gripped his shoulder tighter, to make sure you were real, and he was real, and this whole ordeal was real.

He was just about to speak again, when you were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.

“Mr. Wayne! Oh, what a pleasure to have you here!”

You quickly pulled away from him as Catherine Carrington, a woman in her mid-40s with long, blonde hair approached the both of you and placed two loud kisses on either side of his cheeks. You looked away, trying to figure out how to properly breathe again, and fanned yourself with your hands.

Harrold Carrington, Catherine’s husband walked to her side and shook Bruce’s hand, far too interested in talking to you. You stifled a laugh – whoever was in charge of his wig had tone a terrible job, because it was clear as day his hairline was receding, and the hair he had on was fake.

“Ah, you must be the mysterious friend everyone has been talking about. We’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t we Miss? But I don’t think we’ve properly met – I’m Harrold Carrington. And may I say, you look splendid this evening.”

None of the Carringtons seemed interested in their spouses. Catherine was fawning over Bruce, and Harrold’s eyes lingered far too long on your exposed collarbone and cleavage. So much so, that you turned from him uncomfortably. Bruce was quick to notice your discomfort, and pulled you next to him once again, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes on the lady’s face, as opposed to her chest, Mr. Carrington,” he said with a smile that you could only identify as fake, and that smug voice he used when he was feeling particularly cocky.

All of the colour drained from Harrold’s face, and he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence – which he failed miserably. “I – I, well – I wasn’t – I would never! I – I was just –“

Bruce faced Catherine once again and gave her another fake smile.

“Lovely party Mrs. Carrington. Very nice of you to raise money for the Gotham Police Department. Very charitable, indeed. And the champagne is just splendid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard someone was eating caviar, and it’s not a real party without it, now is it?”

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah – he was just creepy. Shit, I hate galas.”

“Tell me about it,” Bruce sighed, before shaking his head. “How long have we been here for?”

“About two hours.”

“How about we ditch at three? I think it’d be a crime to abandon this party now. Especially when you look this dazzling.”

He was giving you that look once again, the one you couldn’t quite decipher, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Bruce, on the other hand, was freaking out. You looked lovely, even more so than usual. He’d been dancing with you, and all was perfect, and then that hag Catherine had to go and ruin everything.

Was it too much to ask for a quiet dance with his friend?

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

No, you weren’t his friend. At least not anymore.

He thought about your dance moments earlier. How you’d held onto him, far too shy to look him in the eye, lips slightly parted and eyes sparkly. He thought of how easily you leaned into his touch and how he liked having you by his side.

He thought of how much he enjoyed spending time with you, how much he laughed in your presence, how free he felt when he was with you. He could be himself, something that he felt he couldn’t be anywhere else. You were his safe haven. You were everything.

It was that night Bruce Wayne realised he was in love with you.

One time the both of you went out to do some Christmas shopping.

(“In November?” Bruce had asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Christmas sales have already started! And I bet everyone’s going to start super soon, so we need to get to it!” Was your reply. Bruce could only sigh and agree, like he always did when it came to you.)

Besides, it was the first Christmas you’d be able to spend together after 2 years of friendship. The last two had Bruce way too busy with his company (at least that’s what he told you. In reality, he had been tracking down a few criminals who’d been wreaking havoc days before.

The main point was: after two years of being friends, you would finally get to spend Christmas together. It’s not that you’d suffered those Christmases without him; you had friends and family. But you wanted to spend the holidays with who you now considered to be your closest friend.

Bruce, however, wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he was in love with. He hadn’t found the courage to tell you – not yet. He was afraid of ruining things, of hurting you. So he kept silent, relishing in the friendship the both of you had.

Approaching the mall, you had a small list in your hand, filled with names of everyone you wanted to buy a gift for. He had around five people in mind, so he did not need all those preparations.

Once you were in the crowded mall, Bruce would hold you close to him, shielding you from everyone who might bump into you. His hand would respectfully be in the small of your back, and if he needed you to get out of someone’s way (people who refused to look up from their phones were the worst), he would slide it to your waist and gently pull you towards him.

You’d stopped at a beauty store, wanting to buy a new skin care package for your closest friend at work – heavens knew how badly you needed her to keep you sane – so you’d asked Bruce for his opinion on a myriad of perfumes.

“See, I like this one, but I think the smell is a bit too strong,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the hand lotion’s sample on your hand and applying it there. “Here,” you reached your hand to him, and nearly all the air was sucked out of your lungs when Bruce carefully reached for it, holding your pulse in his and bringing it to his face. His lips nearly brushed against your skin as he took the smell of the lotion in, and at least a dozen of women who were shopping nearby swooned.

Bruce let go of your hand just as gently and you blinked a few times, trying to wake up from your little trance.

“It is a bit strong, yeah. You mentioned she’s got a sensitive nose, so maybe something less floral?”

You were quick to nod and walk away, afraid he’d notice the way your cheeks heat up and your pupils dilated.

Once you turned away from him, focusing on the other hand lotions, he sighed, still feeling a buzzing sensation in his hand. It was as if he could still feel your skin against his, and he had to shake his head to return to the task at hand. Control yourself.

At a clothing store, you held up different sweatshirts next to him, asking for his opinion on a gift to your father. He gave you his earnest opinion, and insisted on carrying all your bags once you were done.

“Bruce – come on, I can carry them. I’m not a baby,” you’d told him, sighing in exasperation.

“Just allow me. You’re still picking up things left and right, it’s better if I carry these for you.”

You two checked out a jewellery shop – you’d been saving up to buy your mom a pair of earrings, and while you busied yourself looking through rows and rows of pairs, looking for the one you had your eyes on, Bruce quickly excused himself, and turned to a shop helper.

Approaching the counter, he placed the delicate pair of pearl earrings next to the cashier, glancing around just to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.

“Would you like these to be gift wrapped?” The cashier asked.

“Yes please.”

Bruce continued glancing around. You too were speaking to a shop helper, pointing to the delicate pair of gold earrings you wanted to get.

“A gift for a special someone?” The cashier asked once again with a polite smile. Bruce wasn’t dumb. If he were anyone else, this would be a regular, standard question asked by shop clerks to keep a friendly conversation going. But he’s not just anyone else. He’d noticed the way the woman had glanced him up and down with a wishful expression and could bet all his money that if he were to reveal more than necessary, then she would turn to any gossip magazine as soon as he was out the door and spill whatever nonsense she thought it was going on.

He gave her a curt nod, paid for the earrings (now neatly placed inside of a box and wrapped with a pretty red ribbon), and returned to your side, hiding the box inside his jacket’s pocket.

“Did you find them?” he asked once he got to your side, and if it were anyone else, you would’ve jumped, but by now you were used to Bruce. You seemed to lean into his side and smiled, looking at the pair of hoops the shop helper brought to the counter.

“Yeah – she’s gonna love them! I was super scared they’d be sold out Bruce, I’ve been working my ass off to get these. I’m so proud of myself,” your smile was contagious, and Bruce found himself bringing you closer to him by the waist and giving you one of his super rare smiles. Once again, every woman within a five-mile radio sighed, basically eating him up with their eyes. It was no secret Bruce Wayne was a handsome man – not to mention Gotham’s most eligible bachelor – but to see him act so affectionate in public was a completely different thing, and it was clear more than woman had gotten jealous just looking at you.

(Their boyfriends were not happy with the way said women ogled Bruce up and down.)

“I’m proud of you too.” Bruce replied. It was true. You were a hardworking woman, and he beamed with pride at your accomplishments.

Of course he didn’t tell you he bribed the store to keep the earrings stored until you came along to buy them – he wasn’t about to let someone snatch the thing you’d been working so hard to get – but it didn’t matter. You’d earned it.

You grinned at him and reluctantly broke free from his hold.

“I’m gonna go pay for these, meet me outside?”

He nodded and walked outside of the store, hand coming to pat the box inside of his pocket. They’d look incredible with his mother’s pearl necklace, that’s for sure.

He carried your things to the limo, and upon arriving to the Manor, he distracted you with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows, before handing Alfred the little white box and telling him to keep it a secret. The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you discussing presents, drinking your hot chocolate, and watching some Christmas movies as the wood in the fireplaced cracked piece by piece, enveloping you both in a cozy warmth.

Later that month, the two of you were sitting at an expensive café, having a few treats, and talking about your Christmas shopping. Although the place was very fancy and its prices had shocked you, so had the quality of their food.

“This is garbage,” you said, eyeing the cupcake on your plate. “Holy shit, who baked these? It feels like I’m chewing on a brick!”

“Yours are much better, yes,” Bruce agreed, taking his own cupcake, and looking at it carefully. “And that’s this awful taste?”

“I think she added lemon juice, but it doesn’t work in this recipe, not at all. You’ll see, it’ll basically nullify the sweetness of it, and the whole thing is just gonna taste like one sour cupcake. Gosh, people pay their rent’s worth of money for these?”

Bruce could listen to you talk for hours on end. The way your eyes lit up when you found a topic you were interested in, and how genuinely passionate you were about your hobbies. Your genuineness was something he praised and found himself looking for more and more. In fact, one of the reasons he’d taken you to this specific café was because he knew the cupcakes sucked – he’d eaten there before. He just wanted to hear you talk about them.

An old woman approached your table, wearing a Santa Claus had on top of her head, and a few Christmas related pins on her waitress apron.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, no thank you, we’re fine.” You replied, returning it «.

“I see. Well, I’d just like to say, it’s a real gift to see such precious young love.” The woman gestured at the both of you, and your cheeks flared up. “This city can be so dark and gloomy sometimes; it warms my heart to know that love still prevails on top of all. You two are such a lovely couple.”

“We’re –“ you coughed, trying to clear your throat. “We’re not – we’re not a couple.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, we’re just – we’re just friends!” you were quick to correct her and refused to meet Bruce in the eye.

Oh, right. Bruce. He was staring at the old woman, completely lost in thought. This woman thought you two were a couple. Did you look like it? And why had you shut her down so quickly? Did you hate the idea that much? Would it be so terrible if the two of you were to date?

“Oh, I am so sorry then, my apologies!” the waitress was quick to apologise. “It’s just – you two look rather lovely together. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She walked away and you covered your cheeks with your hands, trying to mask the sudden blush that had overcome you.

Bruce, on his end, was still staring at where the woman had been. Did you two look like a couple that much? He wouldn’t mind it. No, not really, he wouldn’t mind being a couple with you. He could finally drop that stupid playboy persona, be one step closer to his real self. He could protect you and always keep you safe and closer to him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and be greeted with that dazzling smile of yours. Would you ask him for five more minutes in bed? Act all grumpy until you had your morning coffee? Would you drag him out of his bedroom to start the day and be productive?

“Shall we go?” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your now empty mug on top of your plate. “It’s gonna get dark soon, and I wanted to see the Christmas lights.” Your voice was lower, still tinted with some nervousness. Bruce snapped out of it and nodded, walking towards the counter to pay the bill.

While he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, to wake yourself up and hopefully cool down.

Once you were ready, you walked out of the café, strolling the streets of Gotham.

Sometimes it surprised you how pretty your city could be. Sure, there was chaos and corruption, and most of the times it was a fucking shithole, but it was still home, and the tall buildings and bright lights could still take your breath away.

You and Bruce walked side by side. You were still far too nervous to look at him, so you kept your distance. Bruce, respectful as ever, remained by your side, refusing to touch you until you gave him permission. As you were looking at the prettily decorated shop windows and houses, he could see the way your body shivered and trembled.

That’s what you got for refusing to bring a jacket because, “your outfit looked far too pretty to be hidden behind a coat”.

“Cold?” he asked.

“N-no. Not at all. I’m fine. I told you; these tights are really warm.” Your voice was trembling, and your teeth were close to chattering. A part of Bruce wanted to see you fight for your case just a bit longer, while the other just longed to envelop you in his arms and keep the cold away.

“Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure the tips of your fingers are turning blue.” He said with a smug expression.

“No, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding eagerly. “I told you; I wouldn’t be cold. I’m not.”

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

After a few minutes, it was far too obvious you were freezing. Your body was trembling, your teeth were chattering, and he was sure he could see your lips becoming a dark shade of purple.

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to him in confusion.

“Preventing you from catching pneumonia,” he replied, handing it to you.

“N-no, T-that’s not n-necessary, Bruce. I’m fine. I’m n-not cold. I’m f-fine! See? Just p-peachy.”

Bruce had faced criminals and villains and corrupt cops, and they’d all lied to him at one point or another. None was as bad as you.

He gave you one of his “I told you so” looks, and you nearly pouted, spreading your arms as he helped you put the jacket on. Almost instantly, you felt warmth spread through your body and sighed in relief. Bruce also removed his scarf, and carefully wrapped around your neck, hands lingering on your face for longer than necessary when he brushed a few strands away from it.

“Better?” he murmured.

You looked at him through your lashes. He was close. Very close. So close, that you could hear your heartbeat hammering on your chest. You gave him a soft “mhm” and he returned to your side, keeping a respectful distance from you.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked him. It made you feel terrible – it was freezing in Gotham, and you’d taken his only sources of comfort.

“I’m fine – believe me. I’d much rather have you not freezing on me.” He replied.

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

Suddenly, while crossing the street, some careless motorbike showed up out of nowhere. You shrieked in surprise, and froze in your place, closing your eyes in fear. A pair of strong arms pulled you away, and you collided with a strong figure. Bruce was holding you close, cursing the driver under his breath. Once you looked up to you look at him, he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking all over your face to make sure you were unharmed.

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

“I know. It’s like you can’t trust anyone with a license these days.” He muttered. It hurt to part from you. It was like you were made to stand next to him, body slotting perfectly with his. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, giving you space, but was surprised when you held onto his arm, like you usually do.

You looked at him, silently asking for permission, which he granted. You scooted closer to him, and he smiled.

The two of you continued walking through the streets of Gotham, making comments on the architecture, the lighting, the people. There were small stalls selling all sorts of trinkets and goods, a sort of small Christmas market, and you smiled as you saw kids running around with balloons or cups of hot chocolate. It was dark and gloomy, but once again, Gotham could be so very beautiful.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady?” An old vendor asked, extending a pretty rose in your direction.

“Oh, no thank you – “ you mumbled, shaking your head, but Bruce was quicker.

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the flower in his hands. He handed the man a bill (and surely a big one at that, because the man’s eyes widened, and he stared at it for quite a while before thanking Bruce profusely.)

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

You weren’t sure if it was from his jacket, or if your whole body had simply decided to set itself on fire. You took the flower and brought it up to your nose, the intoxicating smell of it filling your senses.

“Thank you,” you said, still looking at it. No one had ever bought you flowers.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he repeated the old man’s words, and continued walking with you by his side, but not without hearing the old man say something about how “beautiful it was to see love bringing people together”. You didn’t seem to have heard it, but Bruce did, and he smiled.

It was Christmas Eve, and you were in Wayne Manor, having dinner with Bruce and Alfred (whom he begged to take a seat at the table with the two of you). There was wine and plenty of food, and the three of you had a great time, sharing funny stories and anecdotes and just enjoying each other’s companies.

You had promised your family to visit them the day after and were dead set on spending the Eve with Bruce.

After dinner, you sat near the fireplace, talking about books, movies, and whatever silly topic that came to mind. You, with your legs comfortably spread on the couch, Alfred on the big chair, and Bruce on the floor, by your feet. To him, that was the closest he had to spending Christmas with his family, and wondered if his parents would’ve enjoyed your company. Of course they’d have, he thought, you’re perfect.

After the three of you had played a few games (Alfred had won at charades, his Batman impression making you laugh for five minutes straight), you stood up announcing that, since it was almost midnight, you wanted everyone to open their gifts. It was more about you giving yours away than opening them, really – you were quite proud of the gifts you’d bought and wanted Bruce’s and Alfred’s reactions as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright, alright, me first! Here – Alfred, these are for you!” You handed him about five different packages, and he looked at you with a fond expression in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

“Well, but I did. I need to spoil my swing partner, don’t I?”

He smiled at your antics and slowly opened the packages, one by one. Inside, there were a few woollen sweaters with matching-coloured ties.

“They’re really warm, you know. And it’s real wool – the quality of these is amazing! And you can even wear them without the ties, for a more casual look. What do you think? Do you like them?” you asked eagerly, hoping to get the response you wanted.

“I do, Miss. Thank you. These are lovely.”

You beamed and hugged him tightly. “Promise? There’s a receipt somewhere if you don’t like them – but I just thought they looked so cool and they were so pretty and the fabric is so soft, and – “

“Yes, Miss. I promise. Thank you. These are splendid.”

“Well, since we’re spoiling Alfred, I don’t really want to get left out.” Bruce joked, before reaching for an envelope sitting on top of the Christmas tree (decorated by the both of you on the first of December, thank you very much.) He handed his butler the envelope and sat back, awaiting his reply.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” Alfred said, looking at the contents of the envelope intently.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a few weeks.” Bruce replied smugly. “If anyone deserves a vacation in this house, it’s you.”

When Alfred didn’t reply, Bruce raised an eyebrow, worry starting to pool in his stomach.

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

“A ticket to the Maldives, Master Wayne? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Bruce grinned, nodding. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do indeed, but, if I may express a tiny complaint…”

“Of course, Alfred. You can always speak your mind.”

“You’re a bit of a cheapskate, Master Wayne.”

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

“A cheapskate. I see. And why is that?”

“After all I’ve done for you, three weeks of vacation seems a bit stingy, don’t you think?” Although he was saying this, he had a smile playing in his lips. Clearly none of it was serious.

“It’s not like I can function without you Alfred. Can’t have you enjoying too much time off, now, can we? You might remember just how fantastic life is outside this place and never return. You’ll be here forever. You’ve changed my diapers when I was born, and you’ll change them when I’m old and gray.”

“I knew I should’ve never accepted Thomas Wayne’s job offer back then.” He muttered. But he then turned to Bruce and gave him an earnest smile. “Thank you, sir. This is very thoughtful of you.”

After that, it was his turn to give you your presents. He gave Bruce a (very expensive) bottle of wine, that he expressed “wanted it to be opened on a very special occasion” with a wink – which made Bruce clear his throat and change the subject. You received a burgundy scarf he’d brought from his latest trip to England, from a shop you’ve expressed your admiration for a few times.

“Holy – oh my god! This is incredible, I mean, look at it!” You hugged him tightly and wrapped the scarf around your neck, not caring that it was far too warm inside the Manor for you to require a scarf.

“Well, now, it seems to be getting rather late for me,” he announced, standing up.

“Oh? You don’t wanna stay here until midnight?”

Alfred shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Miss. I’m quite tired. I’ll be retiring for the night.”

“Alright, Alfred. Goodnight.” Bruce said with a curt nod.

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

You’d turned away to investigate your scarf once again, you missed the look Alfred gave his master, which made him sigh and look at you fondly.

“Alright – now it’s my turn! I need to go get your gift, just wait in here!” You were quick to stand up and disappear into the hallway. You’d been gone for a few minutes, so Bruce went after you, wondering if everything was alright. He bumped into you near the grand staircase at the entrance, and you jumped.

“Christ – you need to stop scaring me like that!” you reprimanded him.

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

“Anyway,” you mumbled, presenting him with a small black box. “This is for you. I know it’s not nearly as fancy as the ones you already have but – well, it’s Christmas and it’s the thought that counts, is it not?” There was a certain nervousness in your voice, Bruce could feel it.

He gently took the box from you, and opened it, revealing a fancy looking black Hugo Boss watch. His fingers trailed the screen and the expensive leather strap.

“I know you have a ton of those, but I thought, hey, this one’s special, this one’s from me!” Before you could keep on with your nervous ramblings, Bruce brought you close, hugging you tightly. You smiled against his chest and wrapped your hands around his torso. This was nice. This was comfortable and familiar and nice.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, and you almost melted at the cadence of his voice.

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

When you two pulled away, something caught his eye. Looking up, he realised the both of you were standing right underneath a few branches of mistletoe. You followed his eyes and blushed furiously, your whole body heating up.

Bruce said your name and you turned to look at him, feeling as light as a feather.

“Look, I – there’s something I would like to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce thought of all you’d been through together. Laughter, tears, giggles, and scowls. You’d had great times, reading books, walking around, spending time together, and bad times, when he blew you off, choosing Gotham city at night over you. He thought of all he told you, all he trusted you with.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time with you,” he began.

“I enjoy spending time with you too.” You inched closer to him, hands still on his chest.

“You’re amazing, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. You see through my charade. I can be myself when I’m around you.”

He thought back on the charity gala, on you wearing that lovely black dress, dancing with him. He thought of holding your hand and pulling you close to him to keep you safe. He thought of your sparkly eyes and delicate lips, and how much he could stare into the former and how badly he wanted to kiss the later.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about how badly he wanted to always be with you. How much he’d love to wake up next to you, feel your skin against his, be able to shout from the rooftops that you’re his and his alone. He thought about dropping to one knee and seeing you walking down an aisle wearing the prettiest of white dresses. He saw a lifetime with you, side by side.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

How he’d have to cancel date after date after date, prioritising the black suit over your relationship. He thought of you getting worried sick when he got home late, frowning as you looked at his scars and bruises. He could see it vividly, how you’d cry and beg him not to leave you, to choose you over the city for once in his life, and how he’d leave you to cry all of your tears as he put the cowl on.

“Is…”

“Is…?” You pressed further, eyes dropping to his lips.

He saw argument after argument, saw you screaming at him, accusing him of not loving you. He saw nights spent in the couch, because you were far too angry to let him in your bed. He saw your sad eyes welling up with tears in the middle of romantic dates after he’d told you he had to go because the bat signal was shining in the night sky. He thought about someone finding his identity and going after you first and foremost. He saw you tied up in some random chair, mouth gagged and tears running down your streak as some criminal tortured you to get to him.

He saw your lifeless body inside a coffin, skin devoid of colour, eyes closed, to never open again, and how he’d spend the rest of his life hating both himself and his mask.

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

“Is… You’re a great friend. Thank you.” He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner and walked away, leaving you wide eyed and speechless under the mistletoe.

Later, he’d gift you the first edition of your favourite classic novel and wish you goodnight with a polite nod of his head, going up to his bedroom.

Before he went to sleep, he locked the pearl earrings and his mother’s necklace inside his drawer.

Things were awkward between you two. Your friendship with Bruce was still there, but he was sort of distant. Your weekly book club meetings still happened, and he still dropped by your café to drink coffee and try new cupcake recipes, but everything seemed to have changed after Christmas Eve.

So, you tried to move on with your life.

A few weeks after Christmas, your bakery started to work with a new supplier, and you quickly befriended the delivery guy, Tom. While you started to look forward to his visits more and more, it still did not feel the same as when you were with Bruce, and you felt guilty for hanging out with him.

One day, Bruce came in for his regular cup of coffee and a cupcake and found you smiling and giggling at a guy at the counter. His first reaction was to punch the guy to next Sunday, but thankfully he calmed down and approached you with a polite smile on his face.

“Hey there,” he greeted you, not sparing Tom a single glance.

“Oh! Hey Bruce – this is Tom. He’s the delivery guy from the new supplier.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realised the Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him and tried his best to shake his hand nonchalantly.

“I’ll be right with you,” you told him, and continued your conversation with Tom.

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

And why were you smiling so much? What the fuck did he have that Bruce didn’t?

Most likely, it was what Bruce didn’t have that make a difference – a mask, a secret identity, a promise made to Gotham.

After you were done chatting with the delivery guy, you placed a cupcake and a cup of coffee in front of Bruce, but instead of sitting down with him, you returned to the counter and resumed your conversation.

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

On Christmas day, after you’d left, Alfred had asked what happened.

Bruce told him everything. How he couldn’t be with you because of Batman, how he couldn’t risk your safety and life, how he pushed you away.

Alfred lectured him, telling his master that his mask was going to be the end of him, but Bruce refused to listen and went to the batcave to busy himself and get his mind off you.

As he looked at you now, radiant and smiling at someone else, he realised that he might’ve made a big, big mistake.

It wasn’t long until you two started dating. It was casual, nothing too serious, but Bruce still seethed on the inside. He found himself staring at you for longer, hands lingering on yours whenever he touched you, and his heart ached more and more whenever he saw you with Tom.

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

Because the truth was, you weren’t doing as well as Bruce thought you were. Tom was a nice man, yeah, but there was something off about the whole thing. He was good looking, yes, and very kind. He listened to you and made you, his priority. He was a dream. But there was just one problem, he wasn’t Bruce.

When you two went out, you often found yourself wishing it was Bruce’s arms wrapped around you. When you two went shopping and you decided to go try on a few hand lotions, Tom simply bent over to sniff your hand, and you were brought back to that time last November when Bruce held you with such gentleness, you nearly melted.

Tom always reminded you to bring a jacket, and you did so diligently, unconsciously put off by the idea of wearing his. He’d once given it to you, and it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t wrap it around you securely, he didn’t brush the hair away from your face, he didn’t look at you the way Bruce did. He was an amazing guy, and you liked him.

But that was it.

Still, you kept your relationship going, hoping your feelings would change.

After all, it’s not like you had ever felt anything for Bruce, right?

He was just a good friend.

You enjoyed spending time with him, sure, but that was it.

So, you looked forward to every time the two of you hung out. And your heartbeat quickened every time he was near. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You easily got angry or upset whenever other women looked at him, and even more so when he entertained their advances. You longed to have him hold you in your arms.

But that was all normal, right? It just meant you were great friends.

You mind goes back to Christmas Eve, and the way he hugged you. Standing under that mistletoe, there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him. You remember looking at him and wishing so bad that he would lean down and press his lips against yours. Just friends don’t kiss.

And that’s what you were to him – just a friend. He’d say that himself.

So why were you so heartbroken?

Looking at an empty coffee mug, it suddenly hit you like a train.

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

So there was no need to feel guilty over going out with Tom, right? Even if you didn’t particularly want to kiss him and didn’t want his hands around you when you two went out. Even if you were reluctant to introduce you as “your boyfriend” and had more than once ditched him to stay home and rethink your life decisions.

Even if when the two of you went out on dates, you barely paid any attention to him, focusing on the times you’d sat down with Bruce over a drink and just laughed your asses off and spoke until the crack of dawn.

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

On a lovely April afternoon, you were helping Bruce do some spring cleaning. You were both wearing some casual, old clothes, and helping Alfred to make sure the Manor ended up spotless.

You were currently in charge of the spacious living room, carefully placing picture frames on top of the coffee table so you could clean the fireplace. You looked at the framed memories. Pictures of Bruce as a child, or with his parents. There was one with a young Bruce standing on his father’s shoulders, and another one of him hugging Alfred.

You smiled to yourself. What a cute kid, he was. He seemed so happy.

There were pictures of him with Rachel, knees scraped and clothes dirty from the mud, and some with you. Your gaze lingered on those.

There was one framed selfie with the two of you, faces full of flour and whipped cream. You’d been teaching him how to bake, but the whole ordeal ended up in a small food fight – which he’d won. You chuckled at the memories of trying to teach Mr. “I’m far too rich to cook because I have people to do it for me” how to measure cups of flour, and break eggs. You’d held onto his arms and guided him to make sure he got the measurements just right.

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

The other picture in your hand had been taken at the Carrington gala.

You were wearing your pretty (and extremely expensive) black dress and were smiling at the camera. You were leaning into Bruce’s touch, who was holding you close by the waist. Instead of looking at the camera, he was instead looking at you.

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

How you had loved dancing with him. Being held by him as if you were the only person in the world he cared about. Your fingers traced his figure in the picture, and a tear fell down your cheek, falling on top of the glass.

“Hey, are you done with the fireplace?” You jumped at the voice behind you, and dropped the frame, which fell on the floor and broke into a million little pieces.

“Shit!” you mumbled, quick to crouch and try to pick up each glass shard. Bruce was quicker though, and made his way towards you, pulling you away from the soiled floor.

“No, get away from this, you might get hurt. I’ll call Alfred and – “ he looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t look away from the mess you had made. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry – I broke it.”

“No, no. It’s okay, we’ll just get a new frame.” Bruce assured you, hands resting on your shoulders.

“No – fuck ­– it’s not okay! None of this is okay!” You cried, and he pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’s just a frame. We’ll get a new one. And we’ll clean the floor.”

You cried in his arms for a while, until your sobs subsided into quiet sniffs. Bruce didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, holding you tight. He’d never let you go.

After a while, you broke the silence.

“I – “ sniff, “ – I broke up with Tom,” you mumbled.

Bruce’s expression was one of surprise. Really? Why would you though? You two seemed happy.

“I… I don’t really think I liked him…” you continued; voice muffled by his chest. “I think I was dating him simply because I wanted to forget you…”

What?

He looked at you, but you refused to face him, face pressing harder against his chest.

“I’m such an idiot, Bruce… Everything was fine, and then I went and fell for you… And now our friendship is going to be ruined, and I broke your picture frame…”

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

“I’m sorry, Bruce… I’m so sorry – I promise I’ll fix this. I – I’ll stop loving you and we can go back to being friends, and – “

Bruce used his thumb to lift your face up and looked straight into your eyes. There was nowhere to run. You were trapped, and so was he.

“You love me?” he asked, voice as soft as you’d ever heard it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words out loud, so you opted for nodding.

“But – Tom –“

“Tom was a distraction,” you sniffled, “And I feel terrible about it. But I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to forget about you.”

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, using the same thumb to rub circles on the skin of your cheek. His gaze fell on your lips.

He had two choices. He could let you go once again. He could walk away from you, tell you he didn’t love you back. He could watch as you eventually moved on with your life (this time for real) and protect you from having to choose between Bruce Wayne and Batman.

He could give up the love of his life forever.

Or he could kiss you. He could tell you how he felt. He could trust you with that darker side of him, and you two could figure it out along the way. He could take it easy. He could bare his heart and finally tell you how you felt.

Two sides of him fought against each other, but ultimately, one was stronger.

He bent down and took your lips in his, sliding his hands up to your face to cradle it.

You were surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back with vigour, tears of happiness falling down your cheeks. How you’d wanted this. And now, it was finally happening.

When you two parted for air, Bruce refused to let you go, standing mere inches away from you. His nose nuzzled yours, and he whispered a quiet, “I love you.”

You don’t know wat surprised you more. That he’d say it, or that you said it back.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pressing yourself against him and kissing him once again.

Bruce wrapped his arms around you, attempting to convey all his feelings for you in a simple kiss. All the longing, the love, the desire, the friendship. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say, he poured into that kiss. And you smiled, accepting all his confessions, all his words.

“Well, it was about time, don’t you two think?” Alfred said from across the room.

You jumped and just stared at him, embarrassment overtaking you.

“Yes, I’m talking about you two. Do you know how bothersome it was to see you moping around and sulking because you hadn’t kissed her on Christmas Eve, sir?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I – You wanted to kiss me on Christmas Eve?” you turned to Bruce and gave him a soft smile.

“I did. I really did. I’m so sorry I didn’t.” he replied, before looking at Alfred. “Could you please leave us alone now? I don’t really recall paying you to mind my business.”

“You don’t pay me enough not to, sir.” The butler replied with a cheeky grin and that “I have the high ground, for I am British and old and wise” smug look of his. “I am glad to see the both of you are finally getting along. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the Manor, since no one in this house does it.”

You laughed and faced Bruce once again, cupping his cheek.

“I thought you didn’t even like me. I mean, on Christmas…”

“I’m sorry about Christmas. I really did want to kiss you, it’s just… There are things about me – things you don’t know. And I’m afraid of telling you because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He replied, hand coming up to touch yours.

“You can tell me anything Bruce, you know it. Right?”

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

“I do. And I love you. I really mean it.”

Bruce could hear the smile in your voice when you replied.

“I love you too.”

For once in his life, Bruce Wayne did not feel completely alone. On the next room, he had his trusted butler, who had raised him as his own and acted like a parental figure all these years. And in his arms, he had you. The love of his life, the woman he loved the most in the world.

Holding you close to him, he knew he could trust you, no matter what. He knew you’d accept him, because if anyone would, it was you. And he would cherish that forever.

Later that night, a small white box was taken out of a locked drawer and placed inside of his pocket.

Bruce led you to the same spot you’d been on Christmas Eve, handed you the small box, and after carefully placing the necklace around your neck, finally kissed you.

There was no way he was ever letting go of you.

A/N: And that's it! I hope I was able to do both this trilogy and this request justice, I was really worried about it. I wrote most of it in one sitting, you have no idea, I just kept on writing and writing and writing and when I realised it, it'd gotten kinda long and out of hand.

I also hope this Tom character wasn't useless? I mean, he sorta was, he was just a plot device, but I hope he didn't feel rushed or whatever.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I really do!

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

#bumblebeesfromvenus #bale!bruce x reader #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #the dark knight #batman begins #the dark knigth rises #christian bale #bruce wayne x reader #batman #bruce wayne smut #bale!bruce wayne smut

[nouearth]

an internship at wayne interprises. (part ii)

bruce wayne x male reader headcanons

part i.

warnings: smut, age gap, bottom reader, breeding, virgin!reader, top!bruce, established relationship, lowkey kind of fluffy, bruce is falling in love.

a/n: aaaand it's finally here! i hope you all enjoy the long awaited part two! i was watching american psycho recently and bruh, i forgot how hot he looked in it. like. i want to run my tongue all over him.

—as intimidating as bruce was, he never found the courage, or time really, to isolate you from your responsibilities.

—was it cowardliness that he was faced with? or was it that returning feeling that churned in his stomach, swelled in his chest, until it made him rethink the thoughts he’s had of you?

—guilt. he never felt it when he was jerking off to your pictures, which have become a daily routine now. 

—but it returned in powerful marches, ached at the center of his heart, ridiculing him for thinking about his employee in such a crude, exploitive way.

—he always felt it when he saw you first thing in the morning, working quietly, mindlessly as your body had begun to become used to the caffeine.

—like wind chimes, you moved around people - around the wind - not with them, as you made your way to the break room. 

—three packets of sugar and two spoons of creamer normally kept you awake, but the frozen pocket pizza in the toaster oven was the real source of your energy. 

—bruce winced as he silently watched you from afar. you yawned, rubbed your eyes as the heat from the toaster oven warmed the surrounding area.

—jesus, no wonder you’re always so tired. look at the shit you’re eating.

—the march of soldiers, rioting against guilt, roared, and he was reminded of his privilege immediately after. a butler that had been providing him three nutritious meals a day since birth, and a garden of wealth that allowed him to afford a home gym with the best equipment; it was all handed to him and while he did his best to give back to the city, it was never enough to pacify the war zone of his chest. he was a person, a wealthy person, but a person nonetheless.

—you were a person.

—though ironically enough, he came to the the image of you hungrily licking the grease off your fingers when you were finished with breakfast later that night.

—there was always something new about you that he would fixate on when his hand met his cock, stroking it with a glorious amount of lube until it dried. 

—though he never fretted, because your lips, your face, your nose - everything about you - milked him until the fresh stock of cum had become the only slime that layered his softening erection.

—like bruce’s nights, you’ve begun infiltrating the routine of his mornings now.

—or rather, bruce began infiltrating yours after he visited you in the break room for the first time.

—good morning, mister wayne…

—oh, new intern, right? your name was…?

—he always feigned his disinterest because he liked hearing your name come out of your handsome mouth.

—(m/n), sir…

—it sounded beautiful. the softness of your voice kindled a tenderness in bruce and it could’ve cradled him to sleep had the coffee from the break room not been so disgusting and cheap.

—the third time, he memorized the pattern you spoke in. your voice always trailed off at the end of a sentence as if it had been stolen by a criminal.

—it’s (m/n), sir…

—he wished he could be that somebody.

—the fifth time, he’d gotten used to the watery aftertaste of the coffee.

—wait, don’t tell me. your name rhymes with…

—and when you laughed because bruce was completely off by a mile, he saw a glimpse of your soul that had been sheltered by intimidation and anxiety.

—he learned he wanted to become a part of your life when he took you out for lunch.

—long overdue, but i usually take my interns out for lunch.

—bruce usually didn’t.

—oh—mister wayne, i don’t think that’s necessary… i already packed lunch.

—great! you don’t have to pack for tomorrow then.

—wait, but i haven’t set up the meeting with—

—i’ll get someone on it—already made reservations, c’mon.

—he’d learned so much about you that day, then the following, and the next; your upbringing, your hopes and dreams, your downfalls, it felt like he was walking on water with the way you willingly opened more of yourself every consecutive day.

—he could listen to you talk for hours, become poisoned by it if your voice was liquid, and bruce accepted that risk when he made another routine to invite you for lunch.

—previous nights were as followed: he stroked his cock to you, breathing heavily into the memory of your cologne, the wrinkles of your shirt, the curl of your lips when he made a joke.

—since he’d gotten to know you as more than a stained selfie, more than the meek statue that stood in the corner; instead of feeding himself with the thoughts of you that derived from pure lust, the reality of his nights had shifted.

—he stroked himself, that never changed. but he closed his eyes, breathing until he could see the ghost of you by his side.

—your shared bodies tensed into one another as his body curved forward into the arc of your back when he pushed in for the first time. you reached back to hold his thigh, pausing his thrusts because you needed to adjust, because you wanted to feel all of him in complete comfort.

—it was intimacy.

—it only melted - your body - when bruce kissed the shell of your ear, telling you that he’ll continue once you were ready. you let him in, sprouted for him like a bud in spring, and felt all of him swell larger inside of you with a whimper.

—it was vulnerability.

—he made sure you were touched, palming your erection as he rocked his own into your bud. from the nape of your neck to the hill of your back, he blessed you in the wet of his mouth, battling the sweat that had gathered on your body to see who would claim the vacancy of your body.

—he made sure to make you feel safe, drowning you in affection with his low voice, with the bridge that had constructed between your soul and his as he thrusted deeper, connected into you when he pressed into a spot that had the heavy air memorize every letter of bruce’s name.

—and finally crossed when he filled you with all of his endearment towards you, heavy and thick in combative sequence. he never pulled away in fret of losing the sentiment—in fret of losing you. 

—it was love.

—from then on, bruce was devoted to melt the frost that had shielded you, just as you had melted his.

—because he was going to protect you now.

—the guilt that had been egging the shelter of his heart wilted in the pit of his stomach when he kissed you for the first time.

—and then completely died when you kissed him back. 

—your arms were around his neck, and his were around your waist. you and bruce slow danced to the tune of his favorite song, in the middle of his living room, and so did your lips when he leaned in again.

—it never progressed further than that, despite the ache in bruce’s pants yelling at him to. he wanted to savor every moment with you, in case he happened to chase you away like he did with the others.

—you were special, and bruce held you like the rarest gem on earth for the first time that night.

—again, when he visited you in mornings to drive you to work.

—again, on nights where you were too tired to drive back to your apartment.

—again, after morning meetings were over and every businessmen and women left the vicinity upon the announcement of food catering a few floors down.

—and then again, when bruce’s thoughts had become a reality.

—b-bruce, ngh…

—you reached back to his thigh like in his thoughts, carefully maneuvering and pacing his thrusts into you. your breath stained deep into the cover of his pillow when bruce applied his weight into you, fitting his broad body to the dip of your back.

—i got you, hm? —nice and slow…

—his voice tickled your nape, soothing it with chaste kisses when your muscles tensed, and you breathed harder into the pillow when you let his thigh go, freeing him to do as he pleased. the warmth of your breath fogged your skin as his girth opened you to a profound feeling you’ve been too intimidated to discover

—faster, please…

—he was humored, not because you were embarrassing like the flush of your skin thought, but because you were still the same person he’d met months ago, appeased by it. you were calmed by an assurance, a kiss to your shoulder then your lips, yet your body only continued to bloom with roses. 

—you’re still so polite even when we’ve done so many things together…

—bruce pressed deeper into you, panting in your ear as he delivered on your timid demands. he knew you now—read you like a book. you were too afraid to ask for anything despite becoming so vulnerable with each other, and he made sure that you were safe with him.

—your requests were silent sans the moans that have escaped, but he heard every single one of them. his hips drove into you harder for a few rhythms, then excruciating slower to coerce a plea out of you—to pull your beautiful moans along with desperation.

—he wanted to hear you, pulling himself completely out of your bud.

—f-fuuuuck, bruce! please—i need you, please.

—more, he needed to hear you want him as much as he’d been wanting you. his arms wrapped around your waist, and his fingers curled over your cock. it provided a friction, a hole for you to press into as his fist was sandwiched between your body and the bed, and you took the opportunity to desperately thrust into it.

—secretly, you’d hope to thrust yourself back onto his cock.

—but again, he knew you; silently observant and logical, and he raised his hips back, avoiding the desperate grinds of your bottom.

—how badly do you need me, hm? —how bad do you want me?

—bruce needed to hear it, to compel a truth to his prophecy. his hand unwrapped around you and you were left desperately grinding into the soft fabric of his sheets with a whine. they were music to his ears, and the drips of his cock dribbled over the curve of your bottom as if they were notes to a stave, to the sound of your torment.

—i-i need you, please…

—he exhaled.

—so bad.

—he gulped.

—so fucking bad…

—he throbbed.

—mister wayne… —please…

—bruce’s two worlds had collided: his previous thoughts of you rocketed into the current with a cloudy explosion, and he succumbed. you looked back at him with glassy orbs, sweat running down the side of your face, and bruce was overwhelmed by the beauty our deepest desires. how quickly it could destroy the barrier that we’ve built, how quickly he could destroy yours and unfurl your vulnerabilities when he finally drove himself back in one long and smooth thrust. 

—f-fuuuuck...

—it was continuous. you wouldn’t admit it, but he knew you preferred being filled like this. he notified the curl of your fingers, clutching at whatever you could to fulfill the aching need to grasp onto something.

—god—

—hard when bruce came down, but slow and affectionate when he pulled out. you felt every thick inch sliding in and out of you. at times, you would purposely tighten in fear of losing bruce, but his thrusts reminded you that you wouldn’t.

—bruce reminded you again when his lips suckled on your shoulder.

—i’m close, (m/n)…

—when his hand stroked your aching cock.

—m-me too…

—and when bruce pushed all of his sweaty weight onto you with one hard thrust.

—shit, shit—

—the boiling feeling in his stomach unfurled inside of you to release his devotion in heavy, white loads. they filled you with heat, spreading thick within you as bruce slowly rocked himself weakly, squeezing every ounce of his love into you until you could feel it yourself.

—bruce—

—your eyes rolled back and you could feel the thick of his cum dripping out of you and down your legs the more he plunged into your hole, and it didn’t take very long for you to come undone yourself. the seam of your mouth kept your moans contained as you blasted bruce’s fist and the sheets with your affection, and it wasn’t until his hand came down to pump you that you exhaled a staggered, breathless groan. the drips came out heavy, sticky, and you rocked into bruce’s fist until they spread themselves thin onto your pelvis, over your cock, and stained deep into the sheets.

—as you both lay breathless, bruce remained on top, puzzled into you as he found comfort in your muscles loosening like the flaccid of your length. he continued playing with your soft flesh, squeezing and spreading the layer of seed that covered his hand, and chuckled when you silently squirmed. 

—not away from him like he’d thought, but back into him.

—because he was your guardian now.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.dc #✰ : nou.brucewayne #x male reader #male reader #bruce wayne x m!reader #bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #x m!reader #batman x male reader #batman x reader #batman x m!reader #batman x you #batman x y/n #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #dc x reader #dc comics fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc x male reader #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman #batman headcanon #christian bale #bruce wayne headcanons

[no-mercy-bby]

Stay

Inspired by @eyeheartboobiez Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne Headcanons cause I really enjoyed them😌

Summary: Your sugar daddy, Bruce Wayne, asks you to stay the night and then a bit more. How could you possibly resist his allure.

(Fluff, smut if you imagine it, angst, possessive!Bruce as in he most definitely wants to marry you, I imagined it as Bale!Bruce but pick your poison)

"You want me to what?" You ask humorously, but not unkindly, as you lean in towards the mirror over the ornate shiny console table. Carefully, you pull your earrings from where they had tangled in your hair. Then you try to wipe the smudges of lipstick off from the skin around your lips where your makeout had grown... messy.

"I'd like you to stay the night," Bruce says smoothly behind you from the armchair in the sitting room, "If you'd like to, of course."

"Well," You start with a smile, your long silk evening gown moving with you as you turn around to face him," What would I get?"

"Anything you'd like, pretty." He replies simply with an easy sly smile playing on his lips. Like it was just so easy for him, as simple as rich people having different rooms for sitting and living, yet were essentially the same. Oh, and if you didn't have a library in your mansion, how appalling! But Bruce was rather charming, which only sweeter his offer even more.

"A pony?" You tease childishly because you could. Especially after one of these elaborate events, listening to all the trivial little things rich people thought was important, you really couldn't help yourself.

"A whole sable full, sweetheart." Bruce promises with a soft chuckle, leaning forward and gesturing for you to come closer.

"I wouldn't mind staying the night, Bruce." You reply sweetly with a smile you couldn't help as you walk closer. His strong hands hold your hips as you lean down towards him, his little smile twisting to a smirk.

Bruce leans up and kisses you, his lips still tasting of sweet champagne despite only nursing the same glass all night. Not to mention, you could taste your lipstick that had rubbed off on his lips. You hum a little at the pressure he was kissing with. It wasn't overbearing but rather insistent. You brace your hands against his sturdy shoulders and break the suction of your mouth from his.

"Bruce, not here-" You start hesitantly, trying to pull your face away more, only for one of Bruce's strong hands to pull you in by holding the back of your neck. You turn your face away, and he starts pecking little kisses all over your cheek, causing you to start giggling.

"Why not here, hm?" Bruce grumbles like a spoiled child and tugs you even closer by his other hand still on your hip. His chin dips down, and he starts kissing at your neck. Bruce's 5 o'clock shadow of scruff scrapes and brushes along, making you gasp a little.

"Because we almost got caught last time in this exact sitting room."

"Alfred is asleep."

"That's exactly what you said last time!"

Bruce chuckles heartily now and drops his forehead to your collarbone as you are practically hovering over his lap. With a knee between his thighs and perched on the edge of the cushion, you shift your weight onto him by boldly straddling his lap.

Now at the same eye level, Bruce nudges his nose lightly against yours as he looks into your eyes.

"I'm sorry, princess, why don't you let me make it up to you? Oh, and you know what," His eyes twinkle with mischief as they glance at your lips," I'll show you the new jacuzzi tub."

"Oh really, Mr. Wayne?" You raise your eyebrows at him and smile cheekily, offhandedly saying," I might never leave now."

Bruce grins bright then, surging forward and kissing you deeply as his muscular arms wrap around you.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Snuggled up against his solid warm chest with silky dark grey sheets embracing you both, you sigh tiredly. His chin is nestled against the crown of your head as his calloused fingers lightly stroke down the side of your body. It was honestly so soothing and relaxing. His touch, his warmth, and especially his smile.

Bruce rarely smiled in public even with you on his arm. It felt good to see under the mask he provided to the public of Gotham. That he wasn't only a shallow millionaire with a silver spoon-

"-I want you to live here." Bruce states aloud, his bare chest rumbling under your ear.

"...you want me to live here? With you?" You ask in confusion, propping yourself onto your elbow to meet his eyes. Bruce nods sincerely, as his hand now strokes along the length of your back, stopping at the small of your back.

"Why?" You now ask him softer because surely he had a good reason.

"So I can protect you, baby."

"Are you saying I can't protect myself??"

"No, that's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I... I really enjoy having you around, and I want to see you every day."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes, sweetheart, you know I do." Bruce reassures you tenderly, and the sweet puppy dog look within his eyes makes you want you cry.

You kiss him, pecking his lips sweetly as your nails scritch his scruff fondly.

"I want to come home to you," Bruce murmurs against your lips, and that was the icing of the cake.

"I'd really love to move in with you, Bruce." You admit, a breath away from his lips now.

"It's settled then, baby." Bruce smiles softly at you before now kissing you soundly. You smile too as you kiss back, and his legs tangle with yours.

You fall asleep on his chest with his arms embracing you. Lulled to sleep by the intimate and cozy feeling of his warm skin to yours... it felt so nice, really nice. You could easily get used to this.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Please like, comment, and reblog! I'd love to hear your feedback!! (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-)

#me after finding a way to include scruff: 🫡 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #dc x reader #bale!batman x reader #bale!bruce wayne #dc #idk tags good night #i wrote da #christian bale #christian bale x reader #tdk #the dark knight

[remuslovebot]

Wildest Dreams | BW

pairing: bale!bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, not proof read, Bruce being lovesick, established relationship. lmk if I missed anything

a/n: send me requests 🥺🥺 also lmk if you want to be on the tag list

taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @allysunny @junmsli

☽☽☽

Bruce Wayne had lived a difficult life. Well maybe not as difficult as one would expect. He was a rich playboy with a mansion and had a butler. But losing his parents at a young age took a tole on the man.

You were Bruce’s sunlight, guiding him away from the darkness inside him. Of course, as Batman he made Gotham a better place. But you, you made Bruce Wayne a better person.

You and Bruce had plans tonight. As his day job of being a rich philanthropist and carrying on the Wayne legacy, he must attend and host gala’s for Gotham’s elite.

Tonight was one of those Gala’s. The Williams family made a large donation to fund a homeless shelter in Gotham. This meant, a lot of the homeless population in Gotham would be properly housed instead of living on the street and resulting to crime.

Bruce was never one to like Gala’s. He thought the people whom attended them were ingenuine and cared more about their appearance instead of actually helping the city.

You tried to tell him that at least the money would help. Bruce couldn’t argue with that. You were right. Their money would help Gotham, but their attitude was atrocious.

One night, Bruce had gotten visibly jealous as he caught a man — who used to be one of this father’s close confidants — hitting on you at the open bar.

“And do you know what I said to my fellow soldiers?” The creepy old man asked.

You were not interested in the conversation. He was very clearly flirting with you and it made you uncomfortable. “No, I don’t,” you said, vaguely and uninterested.

Suddenly a warm and comforting hand wrapped around your waist. A familiar kiss pressed against your cheek. You turned and a smile graced your features. Bruce.

“Did you tell them you’re flirting with someone who is old enough to be your daughter?” Bruce said to the old man. “If you will excuse us, we have to talk to Commissioner Gordon.”

As Bruce swept you away, he pinched your side playfully. “Thank you,” you said up to his ear.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting close to you. Especially an old creep like him,” he said.

You liked when Bruce got possessive, although you would let him know that. You wouldn’t be able to live it down.

You were currently getting ready for tonight’s gala, standing infront of your large mirror and putting on your diamond jewelry. It was a present that Bruce had gifted you.

“You look breathtaking,” Bruce said. Think of the devil and he shall appear. He’d leaning against the wall, looking at you in the mirror. You look at him, seeing him in the glass.

“Thank you,” you say softly, a blush covering your cheeks.

Bruce is wearing a fancy suit and a navy blue tie to match the color of your dress. You fix a diamond earring and then turn around to face him. Walking, towards him.

“Your tie is crooked Mr. Wayne,” you smile, fixing his tie.

He hums in response, placing his hands delicately on your waist. “What would I do without you?” Bruce asked softly.

You smile back at him, placing a reassuring kiss on his cheek.

During the gala, Bruce pulled you to him on the dance floor. “Dance with me?” He gently asked.

You nodded in agreement and placed your hand in his. Bruce placed a hand on your waist and connected your other hand. The classical music surrounding the dance floor, enveloped you both completely.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he looked down at you with such content and happiness. “I love you,” Bruce whispered.

Bruce had never shared this information before now. He’d thought it obviously, how could he not love you — be in love with you.

You looked up at him, your beautiful eyes staring back at his. “I love you too Bruce,” you replied.

It was simple and sweet. Bruce and you deserved a quiet night in each others company.

Bruce leaned forward to kiss you. Returning the kiss you moved your arms to wrap around his neck. He pulled you close.

From across the ballroom, a photographer snapped a picture. You two looked like Gotham’s happiest couple. Bruce had found the woman of his dreams and his home.

“You’re my wildest dreams,” Bruce said softly, rubbing his nose against your own. “I’m never letting you go.”

“Good,” you smiled contently.

#bale!bruce wayne x fem!reader #bale!bruce wayne #bale!bruce wayne x reader #chrisitan bale batman #Batman #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #the dark night x reader #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight #dc comics #christian bale fluff #christian bale x reader

[certifiedredhoodlover]

Bale!Bruce Wayne Headcanons

TW: pure fluff at the start, like actual teeth rotting fluff, pure filth following after, 18+.

SFW :

Spending literally all his money on you, like actually gives you his credit card without even asking what you're buying.

Taking you wherever you want to go. Tokyo? Sure. Maldives? Done. Brazil? You got it.

Spending as much free time he has, with you.

LOVES taking you with him whenever there's a Gala or showing you off when he hosts one.

Mans heart is ready to burst out of his chest whenever he sees you spending time with one of the boys(especially damian).

Is obsessed with holding you close in the early mornings, watching the sunrise together in bed.

NSFW :

Okay he definitely wears the batman suit or just the mask in bed whenever you ask him to (he secretly enjoys it too).

I think he's more of a vanilla type of guy in bed, likes taking it slow and gently making love to you.

BUT that doesn't mean that he can't be rough sometimes, I mean come on this man surely fucks like a beast when he's stressed.

Just pinning you on the mattress and taking all his frustrations out on you.

He will surely try anything you ask him to. Chocking? Check. Bondage? Check. Spanking? Check.

Loves taking you in his office, specifically on his chair. Leaning back and letting you ride him. A sight for sore eyes.

[Bale!Bruce Wayne has and will always have my heart]

#batman #dc x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bale!batman x reader #bale!bruce wayne #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne headcanon

[g1rlken]

Hi hi! For the prompts can you do 10 and 14 with Christian bales Bruce Wayne?

Prompt: chaotic married life w kids + domestic fluff

Words: 2k

Thank you sm for this req it’s so cute

-

Marriage tends to change people is a superficial analysis of growing together but children sure do change routines. Especially morning routines where chaos is an understatement. Raising a child requires a village but for twins a whole army might just suffice. Vincent and William. A very pleasant blessing of two little boys in the Wayne household. However Bruce and y/n were subjected to consider just how much of peace was the cost of that blessing.

Their twins were such serene babies, toddler phase was a transition to literal devils during grade school. Getting them to do home work, go to school, eat the greens, not unleash hell…such difficult tasks.

Today like every other school morning, the parents had divided to bathe the twins in different bathrooms. When they were much younger and playful as babies bathing them in the giant bathtub where they’d just play with soap bubbles and those Amazon find bath toys was a cute activity. Nowadays, on Sundays sometimes they’d just hose them down in the garden and call it a day. It was so much more convenient for the parents and even the twins who absolutely despised bathing. Y/n bathed the older twin Vincent in the bathroom which was upstairs, Bruce downstairs with William who was a bad influence of his brother to not bathe and Alfred preparing breakfast and lunch boxes.

“Bruce!” Y/n voice shrieked from upstairs followed by a whiny cry from Vincent and he rushed to inquire, finding his wife looking for the sink holding her eyes shut.

“What happened here…?” Bruce asked as stepped inside and was immediately attacked by a plastic bottle Vincent could get his hands on as he moved frantically in the bathtub. Bruce dodged it with dad reflex thankfully.

“There’s shampoo in our eyes” Y/n briefed him and pointed at their son to go help him given she could assist herself with the sink water.

Vincent was just moving frantically in the shallow bath water shaking his head and hands splashing the water “Do something!” The boy demanded with a shrill cry.

“ Vin, calm down” Bruce urged as he bent on his knees to the bath level and held some of the running water in his hands to pour into his shampoo hurting eyes but he’d just squeezed them shut. “Open your eyes”

“I can’t! They hurt!” The boy whined and splashed the water very disruptively it went all over Bruce’s face.

“Breathe, you’re alright just breathe…open your eyes.” Bruce soothed anyways as he helped Vincent soothe the hurt by sprinkling cleaner water again, “why were you shampooing him anyways? We literally have school in an hour”

“I wasn’t but someone keeps on changing the bottles with soap and shampoo again and again” Y/n replied scoffing in obviousness as she air dried her eyes, it was Bruce who colour coded them like that in a different set of bottle at each refill. Washing hair of a seven year old who will fight a literal battle to resist it, will most definitely end up in a painful situation as such.

“It is literally so simple, white for soap and off white for shampoo” Bruce accounted for his way of arrangement as he dabbed his son’s eyes with towel, soothing his cries.

“We don’t have time to go into that discourse I’ll go pack lunch” Y/n said as she hurriedly wiped her own eyes.

“Oh Alfred’s on it…” Bruce informed her casually as Vincent’s eyes were normal again he opened them with a heavy sigh.

“Oh man I’m never using shampoo again.” The boy said dramatically and received a disapproving shake of head from his dad.

“Wait then who’s with Will?” Y/n asked about their younger twin William, whose morning crankiness were much worse.

“Uh” Bruce paused realising he’d not considered that as he’d rushed to his wife’s call for help “He was brushing his teeth”

“Alright he’s most definitely asleep again.” She sighed composing herself, leaving Vincent to get out of bath and dressed for his dad she rushed downstairs. As expected, William was fast asleep on the marble sink leaning against the wall with his legs dangling down the sink, ever since the kids learned to climb places no surface was unreachable. “Willy!” Y/n exclaimed as she carried him down the sink “William wake up come on we’ve to go to school!” She exclaimed and brushed his teeth for him hurriedly as he mumbled something about not wanting to go.

“I don’t want to…” will whined still half asleep not wanting to go because he still wanted to sleep. During vacations it was difficult to put him down to bed just absolute monkey activities all day long jumping here to there and during school days he couldn’t be bothered to brush his teeth even.

William tried to have a one sided debate about why he shouldn’t have to go to school and was eventually fully awake, much to y/n’s demise now she couldn’t manhandle and carry her son to brush his teeth and bath because now he was ready to have full sassy conversations. “You know I’m not getting in that right?” He said to his mum and gave the filling bathtub a disgusting look.

“We literally don’t have time for this please don’t bring-“ his mum started sighing as she foresaw the upcoming torment.

“What?” William said exaggerating his obviousness “I won’t be clean with gutter water”

“It’s not guttter water!” She tried to , despite being on the clock “Don’t believe everything you hear in school” she bent to her knees to match his eye level and try to convince him better “you know no ones want to sit with the kid who hasn’t bathed in 24 hours?”

“But didn’t you say people should like each other for who they are and their kindness and not what they dress and look like” Will responded smugly crossing his arms at his mum, well aware he was winning this debate so far.

Taking a deep breath to subside her annoyance of her own words biting her back, “No, that was for when you wanted to wear your ducky hat and those big kids made fun of you. Not for hygiene.”

“I don’t even know what that word means so…” he trailed off with a pout of correctness.

“Look, we’re going to be really late can you please cooperate.”

“I am awake, I brushed my teeth and I am talking to you that is enough operation on my part” William reasoned with his mom with a shrug.

“It’s cooperation.” She corrected him.

“It’s the same thing” William answered offering her mom a smile of encouragement, as if she did not know the word.

“No it’s not.” Y/n replied before she could continue Bruce’s knock on the open door averted their attention.

“He’s still not ready?” Bruce exclaimed in urgency.

“Vin?” Y/n asked about the status of the other twin as Bruce nodded and briefed her that he was with Alfred. Joint breakfast plus lunch box duties. Bruce stepped inside because clearly with his wife on his son’s eye level trying to convince him to shower seemed like she needed help.

“I literally don’t even have to go to school!” William exclaimed “I know each and every animal and I know that that water comes from sewage!” He said pointing to the bath water.

“For the hundredth time will, it doesn’t come from the sewage!” Bruce interjected with a sigh. “It’s very clean”

“So I can drink it?” William proposed raising brows at his parents.

“No” Y/n replied almost instantly, William was very fast to react she was worried he might actually try something “No you can’t drink it.”

“Why?” William demanded an answer with the hopes of his parents getting trapped in their own initial proponent that the water was not from sewage.

“Look I’m going to count to three if you don’t get in-“ Y/n began, as they were really on the clock she couldn’t reason ever so rationally.

“Hey hey no” Bruce interrupted his wife shaking his head, “We don’t do that, don’t threaten him. We have a civil conversation.”

“I’m not threatening him woah” she replied with a huff at his accusation.

“Count to three and what? Splash him?” Bruce asked somewhat wanting to have stern yet hostile approach to the kid.

“—Of course!”

“But I only have to bath if I have to go to school wight?” William enquired mispronouncing right for wight “what if I don’t? Can’t I just be homeschooled?! Dada was homeschooled.”

“Exactly, dada was homeschooled and he’s now a grown up who has no friends.” Y/n explained it to him rather unapologetically but not in a poking way to Bruce . “Do you want to be like that?”

“No that’s not true I have friends” Bruce jumped to his defence somewhat taken aback how casually his wife threw that one in, despite an apologetic smile she offered him.

“Name your two best friends then.” William investigated as he looked up at his dad with an anticipated look.

Bruce paused for a moment as he thought about it, he looked serious which made y/n wonder if he had any friends she hadn’t known of this entire time. His face seemed like he was trying to pick between his ever so large group of friends but he began, “Y/n and..” he trailed off thinking again but William had gotten his answer.

“Okay I understand now.” William said looking his mom, both of them shared a small laugh which Bruce didn’t exactly get on but at least William agreed to get in the bath.

-

Leaving Bruce to dress the boy y/n rushed outside to help Alfred with breakfast and lunch boxes, “hey hey hey” she rushed over to Alfred, where Vincent was clinging to the old man as piggy back. A very concerning sight given, not that he would fall but Alfred was rather old. “Get down from there!”

“It’s alright Miss Wayne.” Alfred said with a smile as Vincent just laughed getting favoured against his mum’s demand.

“No it’s not.” She shook her head carrying Vincent off of him and placed him on the dinning table chair, “They’re both getting way too heavy to carry.”

“I just can’t refuse them.” Alfred laughed a small laugh as he set the plates for breakfast.

“Well you should” Y/n said hurriedly as she rummaged through the cabinets to get the lunch boxes out, by then Bruce returned with a towel over will’s head. Once he sat him on the chair he rubbed his drenched hair hastily.

“No not my hair!” Vincent flinched with a scowl on his face when Bruce attempted to dry his hair as well.

“We’re late Vin, come on” Bruce refused to give into the whining at this point and dried Vincent’s hair anyways. He walked across the kitchen to help y/n reaching for the lunch box on the top shelf as she prepared one of those.

“Late?” Alfred asked as he registered the sentence “Late for what? It’s Sunday.”

“It’s Sunday today?!” Y/n asked as she turned around and her eyes winded.

“Yes.” Alfred nodded positively as he pointed to the calendar.

The parents just sighed relaxing their shoulders in regret, “wow” y/n chuckled softly as Bruce joined along comprehending his regret with the humour of it as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I did not just bathe both of them on a Sunday.” She laughed as Bruce brought her into a side hug.

“You?” He raised a brow looking down at her.

“We” she corrected herself with a smile as she gave him with a soft peck on the lips.

#bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #christian bale #christian bale x reader #Christian bale batman #Christian bale!batman x reader #batman x reader #batman x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!bruce Wayne x reader

[floralcyanide]

― 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 (nsfw)

⌯ pairing: bale!bruce wayne / afab!reader ⌯ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, nipple play, friends to lovers, love confessions, mentions of fear toxin (dcu), no gender affirming language other than anatomy description ⌯ word count: 2.5k ⌯ summary: based on these prompts: “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.” and “How do you always end up under my blanket?” your best friend bruce wayne has been missing for a while. when he comes back, he has a confession to make. ⌯ author’s note: this took a little while to write because I wanted to write an actual fic for bale!bruce. I hope yall enjoy (:

divider credit: @arminsumi | @firefly-graphics | @cafekitsune ⌯ masterlist ⌯ taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ.

You’re busying yourself by folding laundry, trying your best to get your mind off your best friend Bruce. While his job is very demanding, and he goes away for a while sometimes, he’s never been gone this long. You’re beginning to worry- so much so that you’ve lost sleep and the ability to eat properly. But you know Bruce, and you know he’s resilient. It’s just a matter of time. But, of course, he was presumed dead for years before now, and that will always haunt you. So it’s not entirely irrational of you to worry.

A knock at your apartment door startles you out of your sleepy stupor. You set down the towel you were folding before shuffling to the entrance. You peek through the peephole to see none other than Bruce standing there. You swing the door open, and Bruce immediately wraps his arms around you. You do the same to him, holding him tightly, fearing that this is some hallucination from lack of sleep. Your face is buried in Bruce’s chest, and his scent tells you that this is real and he’s really here with you. 

“Where were you?” you whisper, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

It had been quite a few days of radio silence from Bruce. You know he’s Batman, and he keeps you updated on his safety status. But he, of course, doesn’t tell you details of the villains and crimes for your safety. You’re his childhood best friend, so you knew he was Batman before he even told you. The day he told you, you just laughed. “I know, Bruce.” But you were still very concerned about his well-being after trying to approach one of his enemies. 

“One of the guys I was after had a toxin,” Bruce pulls away from you, looking around to ensure no one would hear, “It got to me.”

You furrow your eyebrow, “Come in.”

Bruce enters your apartment, waiting for you to close and lock the door. He shoves his hands into his pockets, unsure of whether or not he should explain the situation at all. But he knows he owes you an explanation. 

“A toxin, huh?” you ask, crossing your arms as you lean against the door.

“Fear toxin.” Bruce clarifies, “It makes you hear and see the things you fear the most, but they aren’t really there.”

You shudder, “That sounds horrifying. And you said you experienced it? How long did it last?”

“I was out for a few days while Alfred worked with someone to make an antidote. I saw things. Things I didn’t want to.”

You pull away from the door and slowly walk to Bruce, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bruce looks at you as you stand before him, “No, but I probably should anyway. Considering the things I was seeing.”

You pull the sides of Bruce’s jacket together, holding onto them as you search his eyes. They’re different, and you figure it’s from whatever he experienced from the fear toxin.

“What did you see, Bruce?”

Bruce grimaces with a nervous laugh, “Are you sure you want to know?”

You look at him and nod, still clutching his jacket. 

“I saw you,” Bruce sighs, shaking his head, “Something kept hurting you and killing you over and over. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

You stare up at Bruce with a frown etched on your face at the thought of your best friend feeling helpless. 

“That sounds awful,” you say.

“It just made me think about a lot and realize things I didn’t see before.”

Bruce turns his thoughts over carefully, choosing what exactly to say next. He had always loved you, sure. But Bruce never thought of it as a romantic thing. Not until the fear toxin made him see things and feel things he had never felt or seen before. He wants to protect and care for you so you never have to go through what he saw you go through. Even though it isn’t plausible that you would, Bruce still wants what is best for you because he does love you. A little more now than he did before. You, on the other hand, have always loved Bruce. You've been enthralled with his presence since you were kids playing in the Wayne Manor backyard. Everything he did amazed you, especially now with him helping the people of Gotham. His intelligence, softness, even the cockiness he sometimes lets seep through. Even before, when he was a slightly bratty rich guy, you loved him. Bruce's absence for days has made your feelings for him more intense. With love comes worry and concern.

“And what would that be?” you ask.

Bruce pulls your hands from his jacket, enveloping them in his, “You’ve always been here for me, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I love you and will always do anything to protect you.”

“I love you too, Bruce,” you say back, not realizing the total weight of his words.

“No,” he says, “I really do. It’s taken me this long to see, but I do love you. And not like a best friend.”

Your face softens, “Bruce, you don’t mean that-”

“No, I do mean it,” he says, squeezing your hands.

There’s a pregnant pause before Bruce slowly leans down to capture your lips with his in a swift, gentle motion. The world seems to stop around the two of you, the sirens outside quieting and the sound of your washing machine fading away. Bruce lets go of you and cradles your head in his hands, deepening the passionate-turning kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. Bruce slips his tongue past your lips, battling yours for dominance, which you gladly let him take. He guides you backward until the base of your spine is pressed against the kitchen counter. Bruce moves his grasp from your hair to your thighs, where he hikes them up around his waist. He smiles into the kiss, and you pick up on it.

“What?” you ask, pulling away briefly.

“I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.”

You feel a warmth spread along your ears at that confession. Trailing your palms up Bruce’s neck and past his jaw to his cheeks, you stare into his eyes. A smile spreads across his face into slight laughter, to which you mirror. 

“What else have you dreamed of, Bruce?”

“Want me to show you?”

A nod of your head leads to Bruce walking you to your bedroom, still perched on his waist. He gently lies you down on the bed before climbing over you, his strong arms on either side of your head. He lowers himself onto you to kiss you again, his weight on his forearms by your ears. Bruce then moves to your jaw, teasing you with small kisses and nips. You can’t help but giggle at the feeling of his stubble on your skin, tickling it. Bruce travels down your neck and then down to your torso, where he lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach. You watch with content as he tugs your shirt over his head so he can reach higher to your breasts. You don’t wear a bra when at home, so Bruce has easy access to them. He softly kisses your skin, avoiding the areas you want him most. You open your mouth to joke about it, but before you can say a word, his fingers pinch one of your nipples as he lays his head by the other. Bruce shoves your shirt to your shoulders, resuming his previous position of pressing his cheek to your left breast and toying with the right one with his hand. With a slight movement of his head, Bruce is now suckling your unoccupied bud. Your hips buck into his stomach, and you feel his length growing hard against your leg. Bruce gazes up at you through his lashes, his eyes a little darker than before. Your hand finds its way to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in it. 

Bruce tweaks your nipple with his teeth as he rolls the other with his fingers, making electricity jolt through you. A gasp leaves your lips at the sensation, your grip on Bruce’s hair tightening briefly. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your breasts before moving down your sternum and stomach, toying with the hem of your sweatpants. Bruce glances up at you to ask for permission, and you nod.

“You can touch me.”

Bruce pulls your sweatpants down, and you kick them off the rest of the way. He bites and licks the skin of your thighs before cupping your clothed heat with his mouth. Bruce flattens his tongue against you, dragging it upward against the cotton material of your underwear. You whine at the contact, wanting something a little more direct. With your hands still in Bruce’s hair, you remove them, moving them to pull down the barrier between you and Bruce’s mouth. He helps you with a knowing smirk. He softly kisses your clit before letting his tongue delve into your wetness, a sharp inhale through your nose letting him know it feels good. You would be lying if you had said you hadn’t thought of this exact moment before. Bruce steadies your hips with his hands, his fingers digging into your flesh. When the tip of his tongue comes in contact with your bundle of sensitive nerves, you attempt to buck your hips up to no avail. Bruce is incredibly strong, so you had no chance of moving. But he begins to guide your hips up and down, making you ride his tongue on his own accord. You move with what he’ll allow along with his guidance, and pleasure flowers through you. Bruce coaxes a finger into you, the feeling of him exploring you with it making you moan loudly. When he finds your spot, he adds another finger to circle it slowly. You gasp, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loud again.

“No,” Bruce shakes head, pulling away from you and stopping his movements, “I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you exhale, hands clutching the bed sheets.

Bruce resumes pumping his fingers in and out of you while pressing his fingertips to your spot every now and then, eliciting noises from you that you’ve never let out with anyone else. He laps at your clit simultaneously, and he allows you to move your hips freely as he spreads your legs with his free hand. You feel yourself becoming lost in pleasure, your head cloudy and letting out noises without a second thought. Bruce feels you tightening around his fingers, signaling you’re close to release. So, he pulls away from you and sits up on his knees. You wriggle at the loss of his fingers, but he quickly replaces them with the tip of his hardened length. Bruce holds you still with one hand as he drags himself up and down your weeping cunt with the other. You pull your shirt the rest of the way off as Bruce slowly pushes himself inside you. Giving you a moment to adjust, he peels off his own shirt and tosses it before continuing to thrust slowly into you. 

When he’s entirely inside, he notices you taking deep breaths, “All good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “It’s just been a while.”

That and Bruce is well endowed, so you have to relax fully to take him comfortably. When you finally feel comfortable enough to move, you give your hips an experimental roll. Both you and Bruce groan at the feeling, to which Bruce pulls out a little before pushing back in. 

“Don’t be shy, Bruce,” you joke, “You can go faster.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bruce smiles deviously down at you.

He picks your legs up and lays them on his shoulders before he begins to pound into you, leaving you gasping for air. You grip Bruce’s biceps, his rhythm is merciless as your bed frame squeaks underneath you. He moves you upward to the pillows so you can rest your head on them and so he can grip the headboard for leverage. Bruce’s hips snap forward rapidly, just as he assured, and he has to put a pillow above your head so it doesn’t slam into the bedframe. Your moans are incoherent at this point, and your eyes are wound shut.

“Look at me, babe,” Bruce says, moving a hand from your thigh to your cheek, bringing you out of your fog.

You open your eyes to gaze into his, Bruce pressing his chest to yours and fucking you at a new angle as he puts his forehead against yours. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouth before finally embracing in a heated kiss. Deciding to switch up the angle, Bruce removes your legs from his shoulders and spreads them apart as far as they go. You howl into the kiss as Bruce hits that spot inside you, driving you crazy. 

“Right there, Bruce,” you manage to stutter, “Right there!”

He hooks his arms under your knees, slamming you against him even harder than before. Bruce presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles into it. You curse, no longer caring if your neighbors hear you or your bed slamming into the wall. Heat builds up in your belly as you struggle to maintain eye contact with Bruce, stars flooding your vision. He hits that spot inside you harder than before, sending you over the edge in a snap. Your walls clench around Bruce, causing his orgasm to unfold shortly behind yours. The feeling of him emptying into you coaxes your release to last longer, and Bruce not letting up on your clit adds to the overstimulation. You cry out as another orgasm washes over you, and Bruce hisses from his own overstimulation. He curses under his breath as he pulls out of you, hurrying to your closet for a towel. Bruce cleans the two of you up as you work to bring yourself back to Earth. 

“That,” you say, Bruce hovering over you, “was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Bruce says, and you both laugh at his cheesiness.

Rolling over to lie next to you, Bruce pulls the blanket on his side of the bed over him, and you do the same. But the ownership of blankets doesn’t last long as you cuddle. You manage to pull Bruce’s blanket over to your side, much like you used to when you were both younger. You had sleepovers a lot, and you’d always somehow end up stealing Bruce’s blanket.

“How do you always end up under my blanket?” Bruce sighs.

You peek at him, opening your closed eyes momentarily before shrugging, stifling a laugh. Bruce pulls your head into his neck before kissing your hair, allowing you to doze off. Even if the things he saw during the toxin’s hold on him were disturbing, at least it allowed him to see things more clearly and find his way to you. 

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne smut #batman x reader #batman x reader smut #batman smut #batman begins #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #christian bale #christian bale x reader #christian bale x reader smut #christina bale smut #floralcyanide writes #pop up workshop

[ktficworld]

"You want a last minute dancer and I want to gate crash Wayne's party. We have a deal."

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagines #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #batman x you #batman x y/n #desi moodboard #desiblr #bale!bruce wayne x reader #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader

[toluene-sister]

Gotcha pt 2

When you give your homicidal clown of a boyfriend a bj so good it gives him a mental breakdown ✨️💅

A scene from the 8th chapter of LISMBWYD, you can read the fic here

#oh how the turntables #batjokes #batman x joker #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne #batman #ledger!joker #the dark knight #my art #lismbwyd

[pank0w]

Settling down?! (Pt.1)

Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Requests open

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••••

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bale!batman x reader #bale!bruce wayne #xreader #fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #pt. 1

[allysunny]

Hiii! Could you do 14+n with Bruce? 🤭 I know it takes a lot of effort to write but the fact that word count is a lot is not only bc he is bae (he’s the only man ever actually) but also bc YOU are suuuper talented. It’s insane. Anyway, than u in advance ❤️

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me” + Pregnancy + Bale!Bruce Wayne

Words: 4.1k words

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, a bit of crack (Bruce is so funny he could be a stand up comedian), Alfred is also hilarious, lots of protective Bruce and Alfred, it's just an overall very fluffy and sweet fic!! Not proofread though, so if I forgot anything, let me know!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's another entry from my 200 Followers Event! This was so fun to write oh my god!!! I am a firm believer in the fact that Bruce Wayne would be an amazing partner, and a very fun person to be around. I truly think he'd have the most beautiful relationship with his partner, and I tried to convey it here!

So, I hope this was up to your expectations, and that you love it as much as I do!!!!

ᴬˡˢᵒ ᵒᵐᵍ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿˢ, ᴵ'ᵈ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵛᵉʳʸ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ, ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ!!! ᴰᵃᵐⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗⁱᵃⁿ ᴮᵃˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˡᵒᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ ˡᵒˡ

The first thing you thought as you walked down the stairs of Wayne Manor was “We should get an elevator”, followed by “I’m never walking down these godforsaken stairs again”.

You weren’t lazy, not quite.

It was just extremely hard doing so now that your stomach was as big as a basketball.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the marble railing, sighing deeply.

“Look, I love you, I really do. You’re my little bundle of joy, and you’re not even here yet,” you mumbled, placing a small hand on your stomach to support it. “But you need to give your mommy a break, alright? I can barely walk, and your dad wants to put me in a wheelchair. And we’re stubborn, baby, we are. So, we gotta prove to him we’re still capable of doing things on your own. Thing you can do that?”

You were met with a weird sensation; one you’d felt countless times before. Your baby was kicking. You didn’t think that to be a coincidence – you liked to assume your child was replying to whatever you said. You spoke to him quite often, mumbling about your day, telling him about all the things you did at the Manor or whenever you were out and about. Bruce was pretty sure you were already the baby’s favourite since he seemed to calm his kicking fits pretty quickly whenever you spoke to him.

You smiled at your bump and caught your breath, making your way towards the living room.

Alfred was in the kitchen, brewing a small cup of tea. He placed it on top of a silver tray and came out of the room. Once he got a good look at you, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and he hurried to place the tray down and rush to your side.

“Madam Wayne, what in the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked, taking your arm. Alfred, just like Bruce, had taken a liking to assuming you weren’t even capable of opening water bottles by yourself. “I thought I told you to let me know once you came downstairs.” His tone was stern, but you could tell apart the layers upon layers of care.

“Alfred, if I take you up on that offer every time you make it, I’ll become spoiled. That’s not a message I want to pass on to my son,” you replied with a soft chuckle.

Alfred led you to the couch, where you sat down and groaned in relief. You were about 8 months pregnant, and absolutely huge, and everything felt terrible and uncomfortable. Bruce doted on you immensely, but you just wanted it to be over, wanted to get this baby out of you and into your arms.

“Your son is the heir to the Wayne name, Madam. I believe he will grow spoiled whether you like it or not.”

“Bruce will not be spoiling our child, Alfred,” you scoffed, “You know I won’t let him.”

“No one said anything about Master Wayne.” Was his reply, paired up with a cheeky grin.

You chuckled and tried leaning over to fetch the cup of tea Alfred had prepared. He of course did not let you, grabbing it before you had a chance to. He handed it to you with a soft “Here you go” and a cheeky smile.

Ever since you’d gotten pregnant, it was like Bruce and Alfred alike had made some sort of devilish deal to take upon themselves every burden and chore of yours. You were no longer allowed to do laundry, help Alfred with the dishes, tend to the garden, you weren’t even allowed to cook dinner for your husband anymore.

Instead, you were told to rest and not worry yourself and not tire yourself out.

It was annoying when Bruce did it, although you knew he had the best intentions at heart, but it was even worse when Alfred did it. Alfred, of all people. Your partner in crime, your close friend, the one who teamed up with you against Bruce, the one who made sure to always keep you in the loop of whatever was going on, the one person you knew you could trust in a sea of snobs and fake smiles (aside from Bruce, of course).

You often joked he’d betrayed you, no longer joining you to prank Bruce or get him to leave his office or his cave. No, now, it was the other way around, and you felt like you’d been stabbed in the back.

“One day you’re going to wake up, and I’m going to be shopping all by myself, far away from the both of you,” you sighed and sipped from your tea. It was your favourite and tasted as lovely as always – Alfred was almost like a magician.

“And risk giving Master Wayne a heart attack? What a loving wife you are.” Alfred replied smugly. “I guess true love really does manifest in the strangest of ways.”

“You’re a viper, Alfred,” you sighed. “A vicious, sneaky little viper.”

“Happy to be of service, Madam.”

You groaned.

That’s another thing you’d lost after the pregnancy – the privilege of having Alfred calling you by your actual name as opposed to any fancy titles. It had taken him a few years and a lot of begging from you; you were far too tired of “Mrs. Wayne” and you considered him more than a butler, but rather a friend, so why couldn’t he just address you by your name? And you’d managed to do it. Little by little, Alfred was calling you by your name, ditching the titles.

That was, until you said you were pregnant.

Now, not only you were back to titles, but you were also Madam.

When you’d asked Alfred why the sudden change, he said, “Not only you are Mrs. Wayne, but you are also carrying on the legacy of this family. You are Master Wayne’s wife, and now the mother of his children. It would be informal to refer to you as anything less than that.”

Safe to say, you were screwed.

You loved your guys, you did. Alfred played a huge role in your life, being friend and confidante and a father figure all at once. And Bruce was the love of your life.

But sometimes, all you wanted to do was strangle both to death.

“If you need anything, Madam, just call.�� Alfred said before standing up.

“You know I won’t.”

“I know bloody hell you won’t, but I’ll be here nonetheless.”

You smiled and grabbed the book that was by your side, deciding on some light reading. The sun was shining brightly and casting a warm glow over the vast living room of Wayne Manor. You smiled at the sight. You loved peaceful afternoons like this, where the sun warmed your face and tickled your feet, and you could relax for a bit.

Today though, you were simply trying to pass time until Bruce arrived.

He was taking you out for a stroll in the park later, something you’d been begging for a while now, and you couldn’t wait.

It’s not like he kept you locked up inside the Manor – not at all. You were not a prisoner he held captive. He was just protective. Bruce had lost so much in his life; now that he had you and you were giving him a child, he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure you weren’t taken from him as well. He did not forbid you to go outside or carry on with your usual life – he was simply careful. Ever since you started showing, Alfred was to accompany you anywhere you needed to go, along with a bodyguard Bruce had hired just for you.

Bruce knew how cruel Gotham could be, and how vicious journalists and paparazzi could act just for a scoop, so he made sure to try and keep you safe, even if he wasn’t there to do it himself. And you had to admit, he’d been right. More than once had paparazzi tried to get pictures of your baby bump, or tried to interview you while you ran errands or shopped. It was draining, and you partly understood Bruce’s paranoia with your safety.

When you hit the 7-month mark and your belly had considerably grown in size, he was more alert than ever. You couldn’t leave the house without being accompanied, and if you wanted to go out at night, you had to let him know where and with who in advance. Not to control your every move (well, kind of to control your every move), but just to keep you safe, should he be out as Batman and couldn’t go out with you. And how could you not understand where he came from? Everyone knows poor Bruce Wayne’s story. Losing both his parents at a young age, being away from his own city for so long, leading an extremely lonely life all these years. He was not going to lose the one person that had brought him so much joy and hope for the future.

At first it had annoyed you a bit. “I’m pregnant, Bruce. I can still do things,” you had told him.

But one night, you caught him in your bedroom, shaking and crying. Earlier, you’d been intercepted by a few journalists – fanatics, more accurately – who’d cornered you against a wall and bombarded you with questions, even going as far as touching you, pushing you and pulling you so you’d be near their microphones and answer their questions. Bruce had been fetching your drink from a coffee chop nearby, while you waited for him outside (the line was long and it was bustling with activity, and Bruce did not want you near all the confusion), and he’d only caught sight of you when he came out, drinks in hand, and spotted your teary eyed expression, trying to get away from the reporters. The drinks were forgotten and spilled all over the sidewalk once they hit the floor, and Bruce was by your side in a flash, yelling at them and threatening them repeatedly. You were quick to hold onto him, terrified, and he wrapped his arm around you protectively, a cruel expression on his face.

And later when you got home, you’d caught him crying. You’d walked up to him and asked if everything was alright, and he had begged for your forgiveness. He kept mumbling about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten there on time, about how terrible of a husband he was, leaving you all alone on the street, and about how you didn’t deserve him.

You’d sighed and pulled him up to kiss his lips softly.

“You’re an amazing husband,” you’d whispered in the quietness of your bedroom. “The best I could have ever asked for. And you have nothing to apologize for. It’s fine. We’re fine. Please don’t beat yourself up over it, I beg of you.”

Bruce had taken your face in his hands and kissed you, promising without words to do better, to be better. You kissed him back, assuring him no promises were needed.

The following morning, every news channel was flooded with reports of numerous journalists being fired due to the harassment of Bruce Wayne’s pregnant wife.

You’d looked at Bruce over your coffee, and he’d smugly ignored you.

Bruce had taken the news of your pregnancy extremely well. Of course he’d moped and worried for a while, commenting on how he had a duty as Batman, but also as your husband, nearly trying to figure out a way to split himself into two jus so he was able to take care of both, but a serious talk with Alfred (which you overheard partially by accident) sent him on the right track.

From that moment onward, Batman wasn’t in the picture as much. He did not give the mask up altogether – Bruce wasn’t going to stop trying his best for the city, and he had to make sure the tabloids did not put one and one together (even though no one in the public eye would ever guess the Bruce Wayne to be the Dark Knight) – but his mind was always on you.

And perhaps it was a good thing because Gotham seemed to be flourishing. Crime rates had gone down, and people walked a bit more safely at night. It was a breath of fresh air, knowing that Gotham could be transformed like that. Besides, Bruce did not want to worry you. Worry and stress were terrible for the baby, so he promised he’d do his best to give you none.

So far, it had worked, and your relationship had never been better.

Speaking of the devil, Bruce walked inside the living room, loosening the knot on his tie. His face looked tired, and sported a frown, something that you picked up on almost immediately.

“Good afternoon, handsome.” You smiled at him, and could see the way his shoulders visibly relaxed, how his feet moved towards you like second nature, the way his frown was quickly replaced by a smile.

“Good afternoon, beautiful.” Bruce sat by your feet and took your hands in his, as he usually did. He bent over to kiss you tenderly and place a quick peck on top of your belly before asking, “How’s our little peanut doing?” He rubbed soothing circles on your skin, and you melted into his touch, as you often did.

“Very active, as always. Hasn’t stopped kicking and won’t let me walk two steps without expressing its discontentment.” You huffed, before realising the words that had just left your lips. “But I’m fine,” you were quick to add, “Extremely fine, and we can totally still go for a walk in the park. It’s fine. I’m fine. Honest.”

Bruce eyed you curiously, and you recognised in his eyes the look he always gave you when he was trying to read you. Right now, you assumed he was trying to figure out whether you meant it or not.

“I swear. I’m fine. He’s just active. Come on, help me up. Let’s go.”

“Darling, are you sure?” he asked, lovely brown eyes filled with so much concern it made your stomach churn a bit. You hated seeing him like this. You knew it wasn’t your fault though – neither was it his. He was just a good husband. “If you’re tired, we can stay in. Watch a movie, order some takeout maybe – “

“Bruce, I promise,” you repeated, cupping his jaw. “He’s just active. Takes after his father.”

“Whoever that may be,” he joked, earning a chuckle from you.

“Now, help me up. I’m huge and want to go for a stroll with my husband.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Bruce helped you stand up and wrapped his arms around you. He brought you close and kissed you properly this time, lips trailing over yours as his tongue explored your mouth. Your hands came up to cup his cheeks and you smiled into the kiss, sighing in delight.

“Are you trying to distract me, Mr. Wayne?” you asked, peeking through your lashes.

“Maybe. Is it working?” he replied.

“Maybe. But not entirely. Come on. The weather is really nice today, and I really don’t wanna miss it. I’m going to get extremely upset with you if you kiss me out of going for a stroll. And you won’t like me when you’re mad.”

“I already don’t,” Bruce gave you one last peck and took you by the hand, leading you to the garage.

Bruce had to admit, the weather was nice.

The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot to scald either of you. Birds were singing (something he had never heard before in Gotham), and flowers were in bloom. It was the perfect afternoon, and he was extremely glad he’d taken it off to be with you.

Speaking of you, you sat next to him, eating strawberries, and admiring the view in front of you. You loved this park – it was where you’d first met Bruce – and came here often, relishing in the pretty scenery and the calmness of it all. Gotham could be bustling with energy and light and noise, and while you’d come to grow fond of it (after all, it was home), you also appreciated those moments of quiet you managed to steal whenever you could.

“What about Benjamin?” you asked, turning to him. You were as radiant as ever, the light of the sun bathing your face in an ethereal glow. Bruce was sure that if angels existed, this is what they would look like. He caught sight of some strawberry juice dripping down your chin and collected it his finger, taking it to his mouth afterwards to lick it clean.

You wrinkled your nose.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Oh now, is it?” Bruce asked, feigning innocence. “Because I’m pretty sure last night, you asked me to – “

“What about Benjamin?” you repeated. Only this time, slightly louder, and with heat spreading across your cheeks.

Bruce chuckled and moved closer to you so he could steal a kiss. You tasted like strawberries and love, and he wanted to freeze this moment forever.

“Benjamin.” He repeated once he pulled away for breath, lips inches away from yours.

“It’s sweet. We could call him Ben.” You said with a soft smile.

“Benjamin when we’re angry.”

“Bruce!”

“You’re going to have my child; do you seriously expect him to be an angel?” He asked with a quirked brow.

“Ah, so now it’s your child.”

“It’ll be yours every time he gets in trouble.”

“With a father like you, I wonder if there’s ever going to be a time where he doesn’t.”

The two of you laughed and Bruce swore his heart was going to burst from all the love he felt. For a long time, he’d led a mostly lonely life, going to parties, and pretending to be a womanizer, a new model or actress on his arm whenever his photo was taken. It was sad, but necessary if he wanted to keep his Batman persona a secret. Only Alfred was allowed in, seeing as Bruce had no living relatives or any close family. He had Rachel, of course, but they didn’t speak as much as they used to, seeing as she was now engaged to Harvey Dent.

And then you came along.

And his lonely, monochrome life was turned upside down and splashed with colour.

Events and galas were now much more enjoyable because he had you by his side to talk to, kiss whenever no one was looking and make fun of all the high society extravagances he did not associate himself with. No longer did he wake up to silky white empty sheets, but a lovely woman who snuggled close and kissed his jaw and made him giggle and laugh and feel loved. So very loved.

“Anyway, I’m not sure I like Benjamin,” he said, tugging a lock of hair behind your ear and taking the opportunity to run his fingers through your radiant face. Up close, he could see the details of your face, the way your lashes framed your pretty eyes, how they sparkled in the sun. You were the loveliest woman he had ever laid eyes upon. “Any other ideas?”

“Theodore? We can call him Theo.”

“Theodore?”

“Nathaniel. Nathan.”

“I am going to divorce you.”

“All it took was bad baby names? Crap, I would’ve done this way sooner if I knew that’s how I got to get rid of you.”

He snorted and stole another kiss, cupping your cheek with his palm. You were man and wife, but most importantly you were friends. You were his best friend, his greatest confidante and partner in crime. There was no awkwardness between the two of you, never had been beside that small nervous feeling on your tummy during the first few dates. After that, you both became inseparable, and all nervousness was out the window. That’s why you could joke around so much – you trusted each other.

But of course, these were all jokes. Bruce worshiped the ground you walked on, and you loved him more than your own life. No matter how many jokes you cracked about situations like this, you were deeply in love with each other. At first, Bruce was a bit unsure about the jokes. He was afraid that deep down, you would mean any of the things you told him. But after a lot of reassuring, he realised it was simply your friendship blossoming even more. You were still friends. Only now, you were married.

After a while of kissing and stealing a taste of the strawberries you’d been eating earlier, he pulled away and smiled.

“Actually…” you started, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Scary stuff.”

You chuckled.

“About a name.”

“Doesn’t make it less scary.”

You pushed him jokingly and he kissed you once more, swiping his tongue over your lower lip and earning a sigh from you.

“I wanted to run it through you first.”

“Alright, hit me with your best shot.”

You took a deep breath and nodded once, before turning to face him again.

“Thomas.”

It took a while for Bruce to react. Thomas. You were thinking about naming your son Thomas. Like his father. He felt a flurry of emotions surge within him. First, he felt melancholy at the reminder that his father wouldn’t be here to watch his grandson grow. Nor would his mother. After that, he felt hurt. His son would grow up without a regular family. And then, all of the pleasant and positive emotions settled into his chest and he found himself smiling. He felt gratitude for you. He was so grateful to have you by his side. And then he felt happiness. Pure, sheer, raw happiness. He was so happy to be your husband. So lucky. So grateful.

“Thomas.” He repeated.

“Thomas. Tom.”

“Tommy.”

“Little Tommy Wayne.”

“Thomas Wayne.”

“Junior.”

“Junior?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you gesticulated, “After your father. Junior. Is that not how it works?”

“I think I would have to be Thomas in order for our son to be Junior.”

“Really? I thought you just added that to whoever. Thomas the second, then.”

“We’re not naming our son Thomas the second.” Bruce scoffed.

“Technically, he’ll be Thomas the second, you know.”

Bruce laughed again, and you smiled. How you loved seeing your husband smile. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Bruce was a beautiful person. Not just a beautiful man. A beautiful person. He was kind and caring, and extremely funny, and even though no one else in Gotham knew, he risked himself nearly every night to keep Gotham City safe. He was perfect. And all you ever wanted was for him to be happy.

The day you told him you were pregnant, you were sure your heart was going to burst with joy at the sight of him. He hugged you tightly, kissed your breath away, opened the windows and screamed out loud that he was going to be a father, wept a little, kneeled in front of you and kissed your stomach – the whole shebang.

And it almost made you weep with joy, because if your beloved husband was happy, what else could you possibly want?

“I love it,” he murmured, and you could spot the vulnerability in his gaze. It made you melt. It made you feel special, because you knew you were one of the only two people who Bruce allowed himself to be vulnerable with. Made you love and treasure everything you’d built together even more. “Thank you. I think it’s beautiful. Thank you so much. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Have I ever told you this?”

“You have. Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it, though,” you smiled and sat up straighter so you could take his jaw in your hand. He turned his face and softly kissed your palm, which sent butterflies flying in your stomach – or perhaps that’s just your son. “I love you too, Bruce. So much. And I love our little family. Even if we haven’t gotten to meet our little Tommy yet.”

“I love our family too,” Bruce replied, before stealing another kiss. “And I’m sure we’ll be immensely happy. I already am.”

“Me too.” Another one.

The two of you remained like that for a while, talking, smiling, giggling, and stealing strawberry kisses from each other (not that you needed to steal – you could take anything from Bruce, and he wouldn’t mind) and watching as the sun slowly set, bathing Gotham in soft twilight.

And you knew, as the breeze blew, and you sat next to the man you loved, that the world could throw just about anything your way. Unknowingly to you, he was thinking the exact same thing. And as you looked into each other’s eyes and smiled, you knew. You knew that as long as you were together, you would be fine.

A/N: And that's it! I know the ending is super cheesy, but I just love happy and cheesy endings... They make me all warm and fuzzy inside, and Bruce definitely deserves one!!!

Alright!!! I'll see you guys on my next drabble!!!

I hope you have a wonderful day ahead!!! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Burning Touch ♠︎

Bale!Bruce Wayne x reader

A/N: MORE BALE!BRUCE 🥳 I adore possessive Bruce, especially Christian's! So, have this treat for the weekend <3 Enjoy!

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: NSFW content. proceed with caution. cunnilingus, It's so filthy, and it's literally just Bruce eating pussy, he's a lil insecure in this one, and feral.

Word count: 3.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The chilly November air of Gotham city nipped at your cheeks, turning them a rosy shade. The cold wind was blowing on your face, making a few tears burn in your eyes.

Gotham was its usual grey and gloomy self, but the low temperature made it bearable. This kind of weather wasn't unusual for this time of year, after all. Snowflakes would cascade from the heavy clouds soon, coating the dark city in a powdery blanket. The long-awaited holiday season had yet to come, but snow would always awake that cozy and warm feeling in your chest.

Your arm was hooked into Bruce's as you two walked through the moderately bustling streets of Gotham. The two of you had decided to take a walk, not a regular occasion, but when it did happen it was lovely. Bruce had never been one to go outside for fun, the fact that there always were paparazzi hiding somewhere didn't really contribute to his lacking enthusiasm.

He did it for you, to spend time with you. The way you were all cuddled up in your huge scarf and winter coat always coaxed a smile onto his face. Your excited smile as you went on about whatever came to mind perfectly extenuated your red cheeks, the unforgiving cold stinging on your delicate skin. Little did he know you had similar thoughts about him. His adoring eyes as he listened to your ever on going rambling, and his hair that sat so perfectly, even on a day like this. The long wool coat he wore made him look incredible handsome and put together.

Well, he always looked handsome and put together, but there was something so uniquely different about that damn coat.

You'd told a really bad joke, but he still laughed, his head thrown back as that wonderful symphony reached your ears. Occasionally, a stray strand of hair would fall into his face, but he'd just blow it away without a care in the world. The center of his universe was right in front of him. Why would he care about something as unimportant as that?

"We should head home. I'm about to turn into a popsicle." You laughed, it was airy, your breath forming a little cloud in the cold air.

"Well, Honey, you'd be a very, very delicious popsicle." Bruce smirked, turning his head towards you.

"Oh, stop, you!" You playfully hit his arm as a pout settled on your lips. You really hoped he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks through the redness the cold painted on your face. If he knew he could still fluster you after all this time together, he would use it against you as much as he could. And all of it would be for his amusement and his amusement alone. He'd tease you relentlessly, and maybe you enjoyed it just a little bit more than you should.

"I'm serious! I'm freezing my ass off." You huffed, a slight tremble to your tone from the cold. His arm unhooked itself from yours, and it trailed down your lowerback, all the way to your ass before giving it a squeeze.

"Still there, sweetheart, you don't need to worry." He looked like the cheshire cat with that huge grin on his face. You squealed at the unexpected touch and smacked his hand away. "Bruce Thomas Wayne!" You scolded, your brows scrunching together.

"I'm just keeping you warm, Honey." Bruce snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you against his side before pressing a kiss to your temple. You could feel his smirk against your hairline as he kissed you, and you had to admit it made you smile.

"You're lucky I love you." Grumbling quietly, you let him pull you into his embrace. You were cold, and he was warm. It was a no-brainer, really. Well, you also loved him dearly, which made his embrace twice as warm.

"I'm very lucky indeed." He said with a small smile, littering more kisses along your temple. You giggled as his action, pressing your face closer to his coat covered side. His heart felt full. It never had before, no matter how many new dates he took to galas or how many new cars and expensive watches he bought.

Not even Rachel had made him feel like this. Only you did, only you could. He would cherish you and the way you made his heart beat faster, the smile that would creep onto his face whenever you entered the room and a subtle heat rose to his face, until it all came crashing down. He swore it. He swore himself, and he swore you, and he'd do everything in his power to keep that promise.

You continued your path through the city, getting closer and closer to a much needed hot shower and a hot beverage of your choice. It would probably end up being Alfred's hot chocolate. You don't know what he puts in there, but god, it's good. You were just telling Bruce some gossip from this month's book club, which you attended with Alfred and Selena.

Although the latter of your friends was very hesitant and not at all fond of the idea, she enjoyed the time after discussing the books, which she'd never read anyway. You didn't see each other much, so catching up during a cozy afternoon was always a nice experience. Not to mention Alfred's cookies had your fellow book clubers, who were mostly middle-aged women, absolutely swooning.

"You won't believe which book Carol recommended we read next."

He raised an eyebrow glancing over at you. "And what book is that?"

"The fucking Bible." You replied, slightly shaking your head.

"The.. Bible? I doubt she could finish that in a month." He grinned, making you laugh. You went on about all the gossip about their grown-up children, who quit which job and others, which relationship. It was quite entertaining, actually. It was also the only reason Selena put up with the bookclub idea in the first place.

By this point, she was more excited to go than you and Alfred were. Bruce listened to all the stories that had been exchanged during this months meet. He would gently guide you around street lanterns and people as you were too captivated in your storytelling to notice.

He wondered sometimes, did he make your heart feel as full as you made his? He didn't want to doubt you, or your love, but he couldn't help the dark thoughts that would worm their way into his brain in the late evenings. He couldn't help the deep, dull ache of jealousy and insecurity that pounded in his heart when you would talk to other men. Bruce knew you would never break his trust and love like that, but it just felt so.. wrong. Wrong when you would smile at the barista at your favorite coffee shop and that idiot would smile back, or even worse, start small talk while he was right beside you.

At Galas and charity events, he'd hold you especially close. What if you found someone who was richer? Better looking? Someone who was more charming than he was? Bruce was an expert at hiding his feelings, so events were no different for him.

He'd laugh along and smile as you talked with some handsome billionaire, who was already undressing you with his gaze. He always felt uneasy around men like that. What if you left him? He was shocked at how insecure he really felt when it came to you, but he never had something like this before, something real.

Everyone always left him, what if you weren't any different? What if you would leave, just like everyone else had?

Bruce quickly caught sight of a tall, well built buisness man coming your way. He was on the phone, very entranced in the conversation, as were you. Before Bruce could pull you aside, you collided with the man, making you grunt has the air was knocked from your lungs. "I'm so sorry, Miss," he bent down to pick up his phone, which he had dropped at the impact, "are you alright?"

"I am, don't worry. It happens." You smiled with a little chuckle. The man, who was way too close to you for Bruce's liking, touched your arm and bid you a farewell with a very charming smile.

You went on your way, but Bruce was a little absent from that point. He tried catching everything you told him, but he couldn't stop thinking about how that guy had touched you. He had just touched you, who does he think he is? First, he's careless and bumps into you and then he touches you? He could feel a mix of emotions bubbling in his veins.

First, there was Rage. The hot, red anger of that fool putting his hands on you. Even if it was an objectively nice and innocent gesture, it made his blood boil. And then there was it again, that strange, fizzy feeling of insecurity. Would that small touch and exchange of words be enough for you to leave him? Was he good enough for you? Was he doing this right? He had no answers to any of these questions, and they were bouncing around in the inside of his head, pounding against his skull.

"Bruce, my love, are you alright?" You brows were pulled together in concern. You'd noticed that he was in his head, barely listening to what you were saying. He'd slightly stiffened and sped up his pace as well. "Hm?" He snapped his head towards you. It took him a second to process what you had asked.

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He forced a small smile, but you could see through that immediately. He'd forget that you were in a relationship sometimes, being completely vulnerable around each other. There was no way you'd fall for his little number. He cleared his throat. "Let's get home, shall we?" He hastily pulled you along, resulting in you stumbling behind him.

Once you were back at the Manor, you sighed in relief at the warmth that eveneloped you. You rubbed your hands together, hoping they'd warm up quickly. Bruce was still acting strange, a stoic expression and he hadn't said anything on the way back. You couldn't even get your shoes off before he was dragging you up the marble staircase, quickly finding the way to your shared bedroom.

"Honey? What's going on- mh!" You were interrupted by your lover turning around and smashing his lips to yours, probably to shut you up, cupping your cheeks in the process. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands again and reached the bedroom with a very confused and flustered you in tow.

Locking the door behind him, he was on you immediately. Groping and kneading at your body, although you were still in your full outside attire, pushing you back on the bed. His kiss was hungry and desperate, he was practically devouring you. You fell back onto the bed as Bruce crawled on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"What- what's gotten into you?" You managed to ask between kisses, your breathing already heavy. "Need you." Was all he responded, mumbling the words against your lips. His hands which had previously rested on your waist slid down to your hips, over your thighs and calves until he reached your boots which he quickly made work of, making them hit the floor with a thud.

Your coat was next, being thrown across the room, same with your scarf, which then joined your coat on he floor. Bruce sucked and nibbled on your jaw as he eagerly pushed your top over your head, exposing your bra. He groaned at the sight, the vibration making your lips tingle. It wasn't a rare occurrence to see him like this, but usually, you'd know what caused this behavior. But today, you were clueless.

Not that you weren't enjoying it. It was an absolute sight to see Bruce like this. How this well-mannered, calm, and patient man lost his self-control so quickly when it came to you managed to ruin your panties every single time. He placed one of his hands on your back, making you lean slightly forward before he expertly unhooked your bra with one hand. Your soft tits spilled from their confinement, and you moaned softly as the cool air of the room hit your skin.

Bruce trailed his kisses down your neck and over your chest, but they weren't as slow and precise as usual. They were sloppy and rushed, it was like he was trying to reach as much skin as fast as possible. A few gentle sucks to your hardened nipples had your breath catching in your throat, but before you could say or do anything in response he had already moved on, hooking his fingers in your skirt and tights, quickly pushing them down your hips.

He slid off the bed, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your plush thighs to pull you to the edge. "We have all the time in the world, no need to rush things," you breathed heavily, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

"No." He growled, already at work to bite and suck marks into the supple skin of your thighs. Your head fell back at the sensation and you groaned. He looked so fucking good on his knees. Bruce was almost feral, groaning and grunting as his mouth tasted more and more of your skin. Finally, he turned his attention to your soaked pussy.

He stroked over the wet spot on your panties, licking his lips when one of those sweet moans fell from you. Kissing your ruined underwear, he gently caressed your thighs, soothing the bruises he had left. The sound of fabric ripping made your head snap forward, looking at your lover with an alarmed expression. Bruce was in a different world. His pupils were dilated and his chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked at your glistening cunt. It dawned on you once the cold air it your sopping slit. He had ripped your panties off of you.

"Honey, those were new-" you were cut off, yet again, as he dove in, licking at your folds. A high pitched moan ripped from your throat and you were gripping the sheets so tight there'd surely be holes in them by dawn. Bruce hummed in delight at your taste, his arms tightly wrapped around your thighs whil his hands were splayed out on your tummy, keeping you still as he devoured you.

Goosebumps were rising on your soft skin. The room was cold and you laid bare, making the sensation of his warm mouth on your pussy overwhelming. The scratchy fabric of his wool coat rubbed against your calves, reminding you that he was still fully clothed. A dull ache of arousal shoot into your tummy at the thought of him being so eager to have you, taste you, that he didn't even have the patience to undress himself.

He laped at you, drinking in all you were giving him. The lewd, wet sounds echoed through the quiet room, accompanied by your beautiful moans. All of your nerve endings were on fire, his touch almost burning as he kneaded at your body.

"Oh, Fuck- Bruce, oh my God-!" You whined and moaned once he circled his tongue around your clit. Your blood was boiling, almost as if hot lava was flowing in your veins. He pulled away for air with a gentle kiss to your bundle of nerves. The sight made your cunt squeeze around nothing. His hair was messy, your slick was dripping down his chin, he was heaving, the breaths sitting heavy on his chest.

A light layer of sweat covered his forehead, from both the warmth of his winter clothes and the burning pleasure he got from fucking you with his tongue. His beautiful brown eyes were almost black, his pupils swallowing his irises whole as he looked up at you.

"You're mine, right?" He asked, with such vulnerability and softness that your brows furrowed. That question caught you off guard, frankly. "W-What?" Your mind was hazy, your otherworldly bliss having been ripped from under your nose.

"Tell me you're mine. Please, sweetheart." He continued slowly licking at your cunt again, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Tell me you're mine." This time, it was more a demand, a hard tone to his voice. His cold gaze pierced through you, but there was an underlying look of pleading, like he was begging you to assure him you were his with his eyes alone.

"Tell me." It was a desperate plea, the raw emotion was something you'd seen rarely. You didn't know what to think, the jump between emotions and his demeanor couldn't cut through the thick fog of pleasure hanging over your mind. In a rough manner, his hands settled on your thighs, prying them open.

His tongue was back on your clit with small licks and kisses before wrapping his lips around it and suckling. The sensation made pleasure shoot up your spine, your eyes widening and your mouth was slightly agape, breathy whimpers and moans left your lips while your back arched off the bed.

"Shit- Yes, yes I'm yours! Jus' yours.." it came off your lips as a drawl, a slurry of words as ecstasy gnawed its way into your brain. The grip he had on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into your delicate skin. A delicious feeling of the subtle pain seeping into the pleasure you were experiencing coaxed another string of moans from your lips.

"Good." He said it so lowly, it was unlike anything you'd ever heard come out of his mouth. It vibrated in his chest and throat, and in succession against your sensitive pussy as well. You were so close, the mere touch of a feather could tip you over the edge.

"B-Bruce.." You panted, his name was forced out of your throat as best as you could. Your hands were gripping at his hair by now, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. He knew you were impossibly close, he hungered for you to fall apart on his tongue and only think of him. Bruce buried his face even deeper between your thighs, finally snapping that thin rope that was keeping you from earth shattering bliss.

You came with a cry of his name, your thighs quivering. Your breathing was fast and uneven and your mouth was dry. The movements of his tongue slowed and became gentler as he helped you through your high. He slowly kissed his way up your body before finally capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

"Did you get all of it out of your system now?" You laughed breathlessly while a small smirk settled on his lips.

"I'm not so sure, actually."

"Oh, give me a break!" You whined as he pulled you close to his chest with a chuckle. It was kind of odd, seeing as you were completely nude, and he looked like he was ready to go out.

"Are you okay? I wasn't too rough, was I?" He inquired gently, pressing kisses to your head.

"No, no, it was really good." You smiled, resting your head against him with a sigh. You were burning up, your skin shinning with sweat.

"At least I'm not cold anymore." You glanced up at him with a smirk and one of those signature Bruce Wayne grins crept onto his face.

"Told you I'd keep you warm, Baby."

🌬●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🩵●●●●●●●●●●●●●●🌬

There's more of our favorite playboy to come very soon!~ 🐝

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[thebatcave45]

I Missed You 

No warnings. Small Bruce Wayne drabble. No descriptions of reader. Fluff. WC 816

**gif not mine**

You work closely with Bruce Wyane at his Wayne Enterprises office. He’s been gone for close to a month now instead of the two weeks he said he’d be. You had found excuses to text each other about work but it wasn’t enough. You didn’t feel it was your place to question if he was still actually on the work trip or not but you were getting antsy. Regardless, you missed him. Badly. You had started to notice the tiredness of his face and occasional bruise peeking out of his collar just before he left and it was worrying you. What was he up to at night?

 The morning he reappeared you were at an appointment but his secretary had texted you of his return. Almost slamming into multiple people, you had to practically yell at yourself to slow down and walk towards Wayne Tower at a normal pace. 

***

His back was turned to you as he greeted a man in a crisp gray suit into his office. Dang, you thought. Just the site of him however made you instantly calm down. Walking to your own office, you sat in your comfy desk chair and tried to keep busy by shuffling papers. Finally you leaned back and closed your eyes for several minutes until you heard a familiar ding on your computer and a little box popped up in the lower right corner. 

Come to my office when you have a moment.

 Please. 

-Bruce 

The please was because you had jokingly scolded him one day about needing to be polite, even on the company messenger system. He always added it now as an inside joke. You highly doubted he remembered to say it to anyone else, even as an afterthought. 

 You gathered a folder and some random papers you needed his approval on and made your way to his office. Leaning over his secretaries’ desk as you had done multiple times a day for the past few years now, you pushed the button that would buzz in his office letting him know someone wanted in. The familiar click of the electronic door unlocking signaled to you could head in without him even questioning who it was. Grateful to see his head was down as you walked towards him, it was ridiculous your face felt so flushed. 

“I’m guessing you have a pile of very boring crap waiting for me to sign.” He finally looks up from his desk and his smile starts to fade. 

In one fluid motion he stands and scoots his chair back. As he stood, you were still making your way towards his desk. As you started to slow down, reaching it, he was already around it and meeting you face to face.

"Actually, it’s very important crap that..” but by then he was already kissing you. Not hard and forceful, but almost with a sense of need. You slightly backed up, breaking it. 

“I’m so sorry” he quickly spilled out. Looking almost horrified with himself. 

“No, I just, uh, wait, what?” you started to giggle as you often did when you were nervous. He looked at you with sadness and worry that he had just misread the tension between you two for months now and acted in a completely unprofessional way, 

You watched it all flash before his eyes before quickly saying, “No no! Please don’t, I mean…Could you do that again?” Before he could think about it, he stepped forward and this time put his hand gently on either side of your face as he brought you in as he kissed you again. This time there was no doubt that it was needy. 

As you stood there for what could have been several minutes, you dropped the papers you were holding all over the floor. His arms moved to your waist and back as yours went to his neck and hair. He must have turned you from where you were because you could feel the front desk edge bump into your thighs. Almost sitting on it you heard a beep, shattering the moment. 

Without saying a word to each other, you bend down to the floor and start collecting the papers as he reaches over his desk to push the call button to his secretary's desk. “Give me just a minute. We are still discussing some business” he cooly says without sounding as flushed as he looks. “Very good Mr Wayne” you hear back. 

You are setting the papers down on Bruce’s desk as he makes his way to sit again. You don't make eye contact but he clears his throat. You turn to walk away and as you almost reach the door you quietly hear him. 

“I missed you” he says with almost a pleading tone. 

You turn your head back to look at him, softly smiling. “I missed you too” and walk out of his office.

****

tiny side note. I've written on my main a few times but nothing huge. If you liked this, I understand why some things don't get rebloged but if you could comment what you liked possibly that would really help me improve my writing. Thanks for reading!!! 💕 💕💕

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[ransprang]

Christian Bale (OOC) x Fem!Reader

Y/N and Christian Bale had recently gotten married, and her parents hated that. Christian and Y/N had been super clingy, and, to be honest, they felt he was a bit controlling. He would often ask her to do something, and Y/N would simply comply. Christian and she slept while hugging each other with their noses touching, and it turned out she couldn't sleep without him at all. To the extent that Y/N's parents noticed, the two would get upset even when leaving each other alone for a few hours. Her parents weren't sure, but maybe the main problem was that they were scared he would hurt her.

Recently they all had been invited to a party and y/n was super excited to go. Christian went out to buy her a sexy yet elegant dress of his choice that would make his beautiful wife glow. He gifted her the dress and y/n's eyes sparkled. She tipped toed up to kiss him and Christian wrapped his arms around her, as she melted into them. He deepened the kiss and groaned into her mouth as y/n pushed her chest against him. Christian looked at the clock and decided they both could be late...by alot. He pushed her onto the bed and got on top, he always loved being on top and restraining his little girl. Y/n moaned and tried to push against him but his sheer power turned her on. Y/n wrapped her legs around Christian's waist as he unzipped his pants and letting his thick pink cock free. He rubbed the tip before he slid it into y/n entrance. He began thrusting and as he caught speed he put his veiny hand over y/n neck and said "Say my name", but y/n moaned. He tightened his grip at her defiance, gritted his teeth as he pounded harder "say my name.", y/n looked at him "Christ...Christian". He loosened his grip and caressed her hair as he softened his thrusts "good girl, I like it when you listen to me". Y/n smiles back at him and closes her eyes in pleasure as she could feel his dick inside her as her husbands big arms held her down into place. As Christian neared climax he grunted and laid on top of y/n softly sliding in and out as they both laid chest to chest while he kissed his wife while releasing his warm cum inside of her. Y/n's parents happened to be invited too, as they waited out in the hall for their son in law and daughter to come with them they grew more and more agitated. They were already 30 minutes late, how could Christian be this irresponsible. Suddenly the room's door opened and both of them walked out, y/n was a bit nervous. Christian looks at her and said "head up high for me.." as y/n nodded and walked towards the front gate with pride. The drive was long and quiet as Christian sat with her in the back seat and caressed her hair, she was prettier to him than the view. She was his everything.

The party was lavish with many people, y/n separated from her husband to speak to other people. A while later a smaller group of people formed and a beautiful blonde woman with blue eyes, with the body of Pamela Anderson stood across and remarked "Chris, wanna have sex?", Christian looked visibly confused as y/n ears perked up. "I mean come on you're hot I am hot, lets do it. No one here will tell your silly little wife, I bet she's ugly". Everyone quickly realized that she did not know y/n was his wife and standing right next to her. Y/n's eyes were welling up but she held it together, Christian was visibly enraged with his hands in a fist. "Keep your filthy mouth shut." He said through his teeth, she looked a bit scared but nonchalant "oh please don't get worked up about this you know if you were unmarried you would've done me in seconds". When it came to y/n Christian knew no ethics he lunged forward to hit that woman, as a few of their mutual friends held him back in urgency. Y/n sprinted towards him and held his face "Christian look at me, you're not like this. you're better than this. Lets go". he calmed down at the sight of y/n and let it go instantly.

Christian held her hand tightly and stormed off towards the car holding onto the keys y/n's parents had passed to him. As they walked towards the door, her parents gave him a nasty look which said 'I knew you'd hurt our daughter one way or the other'. Christian disregarded it and as they reached the car opened the door to the back seat and rather aggressively pushed y/n in. He sat next to her and closed the door as he held her by the back of her head and kissed her passionately. He deepened it while pulling her closer and getting on top of her. "y/n let me make love to you", y/n hugged him tightly digging her nails into his back. "I love you Christian" as he made love to her and then calmly waited for her parents to say their goodbyes and drive them back home. She was his and he was hers and no one was to come in between them. Your Batman,

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[remuslovebot]

“You’re Batman and that’s wonderful. But I love Bruce Wayne more.”

You look into Bruce’s eyes pleadingly, your hands on his chest. You knew Gotham needed Batman but you needed Bruce and he wasn’t here.

Bruce looked down at you intensely. He didn’t want to lose you but he had to protect you. It was bad enough you knew about Batman. If any one of his enemies found out who he actually was, you would be a target. You were Bruce Wayne’s and Batman’s weakness.

He couldn’t stand to loose you.

Bruce whispered your name, “I need to protect Gotham. My city needs me.”

“I need you Bruce,” you said, eyes filling with small tears. “Tell me you need me too.”

Of course he needed you, Bruce thought. But in order to keep you safe and out of harms way he stayed silent.

You played with his tie slightly and looked down at the ground. A teardrop fell to the ground.

“I can’t lie to you. So I’m not going to say anything at all.” He said, his voice just above a whisper.

You looked up at him, “If you don’t say anything I’m going to walk away.” You said.

Bruce didn’t say anything. He was fighting the urge to pull you to him, hold you close and kiss you. But it wasn’t safe to be around him.

You nodded then and let you of your hands on his chest. “Goodbye Bruce.”

You turned around and walked away. Bruce watched you walk away from him and hoped you would find someone who could give you what you wanted. He wanted to give you those things. But Gotham needed him.

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