#wayne christmas gala | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allysunny · 4 months

Note

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

908 notes · View notes

gffa · 4 months

Text

It has been about eight months since I came back to BATFAMILY fic and this will be my ninth set of recs, which means I'm at about 500 or so for this one fandom, which is kind of blowing my mind a little, but also tracks pretty well, given how amazing the fic in the fandom can be. There's just so much that's scratching the itch of softer Batfam content or really digging into the angsty possibilities or exploring the characters in ways the source material won't/can't or just finding a dozen different ways to hit my id straight on and make it such a fun, exciting experience to be swimming through all this amazing fic. And, in that vein, yeah I may have a Dick Grayson Is The Most Important Guy In The World Problem, but I also have Dick Grayson Is The Most Important Guy In The World Solutions which is basically a metric truckload of fic by incredible authors and trying to lure more people into crying about these characters with me because I AM CRYING A LOT ABOUT THEM because fandom has PROVIDED ME WITH THE TOOLS TO DRAG YOU IN AND I AM GOING TO USE THEM. And, okay, I've got some good Jason, Tim, Damian, Babs, Steph, and Bruce stuff in there, too. Fandom is great at helping me get some really great variety in, too! Basically ALL THE BATS ARE MY LOVES AND I WANT TO DRAG OTHERS IN WITH ME.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Robin is Looking for a Sidekick by Writer_loves_tropes, dick & bruce, 4k Eight year old Dick Grayson is already a crime fighting Robin and he needs a sidekick. Batman seems like he would be a good choice. Robin and Batman has a nice ring to it. Bruce has thoughts about that. aka, How could Bruce resist adopting this tiny child? ✦ The Pancake Predicament by Lightsider, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k On his second Father's Day at Wayne Manor, Dick decides to make pancakes. -or- The reason Dick's not allowed unsupervised kitchen use, which isn't fair. The pancakes were delicious, and he was 10! ✦ Counting Elephants by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick & alfred, 3k When kidnappers break into the manor, Dick runs straight to Alfred. Alfred will do anything to protect his family. Or, Dick gets scared, and Alfred is a badass. ✦ World's Finest: Christmas Morning by WingFeathers, dick & bruce/clark & ma kent & alfred & cast, 9k Twelve hours of a Christmas morning in Gotham: Bruce foregoes sleep and grapples with change, Clark navigates Christmas at Wayne Manor and his boyfriend's emotional distance, and Dick gets the best presents. Also: Ma and Pa Kent and Alfred are the greatest. ✦ There is a Monster at the End of This Book by Trekkele, dick & bruce & cast, vampires, 2.6k There was something deeply wrong with Bruce Wayne. This wasn’t exactly news, of course. Opening any one of the local Gotham tabloids would give you plenty of evidence to back his claims up, but Tyler liked to think his profession gave him an edge, an added insight into the strangeness that was Gotham’s ‘beloved billionaire’. ✦ Safe by Jinmukang, dick & bruce, 2.5k Or, a baby Robin wakes up very lost and very alone in the middle of Gotham. ✦ Stars, Hide Your Fires by FidotheFinch, dick & bruce, 10.8k Dick Grayson doesn't want to leave the circus he's called home his entire life. When he overhears Pop Haly talking to a strange man about sending Dick away for 'training,' he decides he'll do whatever he can to stop it. Even if he has to make a deal with a demon. ✦ It's who I am by Tiredteengaer, dick & bruce & wally & artemis & conner & kaldur & m'gann & cast, 44k how each member of the team found out Robin's real identity. ✦ Drowning, Headaches, and being beaten by Penguin by PandasandDucks1, dick & bruce & wally & artemis, 1.7k He couldn’t breathe. ✦ The Eldest Wayne's by Remarcely, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 3k ‘With all their talks about how to behave, Bruce had the upmost faith in Dick to talk to the other Gala-attenders with respect under his supervision. When Dick grew bored and wandered off, entirely unnoticed by a Bruce deep in conversation, he’d be lying if he pretended that faith didn’t waver’ Or Bruce and Dick throughout the years as they slowly learn how to be a family.

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Rebalancing by SirenAlpha, dick & bruce & damian, 2.5k Bruce was back from his trip through time. Dick expected to heal up from surgery, head back to Blüdhaven, and be Nightwing again. He did not expect Bruce to have a discussion on the nature of Batman, Nightwing, and if Robin really only needed one of them. ✦ Capitulate by Antiquity, dick & bruce, 5k After Wally's death, Bruce tries to hold Dick together before he shakes himself apart. ✦ No Good Deed by I_Have_To_Get_Off_This_Planet, dick & bruce, 1.2k While trying to stop a robber, Dick breaks two ribs. It's not a good time. ✦ Superficial Wounds by fleetfoot1, dick & bruce, ~1k Bruce swore softly as he tilted Dick’s face to the side, his gaze flicking down the bruises covering his cheekbone. Dick swallowed, before opening his mouth. “I--” his voice cracked on the syllable. God, he was just so tired of arguing. ✦ fabric (frayed but holding) by Tevya, dick & bruce & cast, 5.1k A few months after Dick returns to speaking terms with Bruce, he gets stuck in Gotham with the flu. ✦ aristocracy by brandywine421, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred, 2.4k "I really wish it was for a different reason. I - need a favor." "There are no favors between us, Dick, you know that," Bruce said, moving around the desk to take the seat beside him. "Tell me." "God, it's so stupid, I - could handle it myself, but - I don't want to. I just want - I just want to forget it ever happened," Dick said. That didn't sound like Dick. "Tell me," he repeated. ✦ Memories Fade by Lady_of_Lorule, dick & bruce & cast, 2.2k “Miss Gordon sent in her daily report and Master Tim called to inform you that he will be in San Francisco for a few days. Also, Master Dick is upstairs.” Bruce froze. “Dick is here?” “Yes, sir.” “I thought he was in Central City visiting Wally West.” Alfred raised an eyebrow, pale eyes piercing. “It seems that he is back, then. I believe he is waiting for you.” ✦ On-Call by motleyfam, dick & bruce & jason & oc & cast, 1.6k Kiran Devabhaktuni, medical doctor and close family friend of the Waynes, agreed to join them for one more Thanksgiving at the Kent Farm. It's a good thing he did, too. ✦ a day before midnight by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader), dick & bruce, 2.1k After you lose pieces of yourself, they don't always fit back the same. - Post-Ric Grayson.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ the more i look inside (the more you're real to me) by starsonthewalls, dick & bruce & john/mary & tim, 2.8k Dick tensed defensively. “It’s not like I can do anything about that, Dad,” he grumbled, accepting the glass to clear his throat. “You know how B is about patrols.” “And who is ‘B’ supposed to be?” his mom asked. “One of your video game friends?” Dick froze- what did mom mean, who is B? ✦ You Won't Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 5.2k Dick's captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ Jason's Gift by Neoinean, dick & bruce & jason & tim & barbara & cast, 17.3k As Dick’s birthday goes from mediocre to bad to worse, he finds himself so wrapped up in the chain of events that he fails to correctly piece together the clues. Will he discover the truth before its too late? ✦ they don't know me and you by konan_konan, dick & bruce & jason & tim & barbara & zatanna & cast, de-aged!dick, 4.5k "The cold helps neutralize him," says Bruce, talking about Dick like he's a threat. "It'll keep him from hurting himself," says Barbara, talking about Dick like he's a child. They're both correct right now, and Jason hates it. ✦ If You Don't Know by TylerM, dick & bruce & jason, 10.2k An exploration of Sick!Dick Grayson from little and big Jason's point of view. Because I honestly don't believe in there ever being too many of the same damn fic.

BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I'M GONNA THROW HIM AT THE OTHER BATS BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY: ✦ bury me softly by Nokomis, jason & steph, 4k After a tunnel collapse, Stephanie and Jason bond while trapped together.

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I'M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ ties bind none by eryndew, dick & damian & bruce, 2k Bruce discovers a son. Repercussions and choices follow. ✦ restless heart by emavee, dick & damian, 2.3k It’s ridiculous to act like this one weekend really means anything in the grand scheme of things, but he can’t help it. It isn’t fair. He only gets these few days, and now Grayson is up in space fighting aliens or whatever and Damian is alone on the couch watching Jeopardy by himself. Or: Dick goes off world and Damian misses him ✦ Need To Know Basis by WordsAblaze, dick & damian, 1.1k day sixteen, where damian has zero tolerance for dick hiding injuries from him… ✦ a killer time by konan_konan, dick & damian & alfred & bruce, 4.1k The vent cover clatters to the floor, and Dick flings the knife at Croc, trusting that he's going to be a more of a threat than his goons. Croc roars in pain, or maybe just rage, and Dick scrambles toward the vent, Damian already inside, and - And Killer Croc grabs him by the ankle, slams him into the wood. He feels something break, and he gasps, hardly able to catch his breath. Some sort of metallic clang echoes from behind, and he thinks if Damian comes out of the vent and gets us both killed… ✦ as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia, dick & damian, 2.7k Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I'm not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ a study by bernard dowd by cv_angels, tim/bernard & conner & cassie & bart, 4.8k Bernard opens the laptop, spinning it to face Tim with a flourish. It’s a powerpoint with a truly hideous red background, and Tim feels a moment of relief that Bernard isn’t breaking up with him before he registers the words on the slide. REASONS WHY TIMOTHY DRAKE-WAYNE IS A SUPERHERO, A STUDY BY BERNARD DOWD. ✦ princess carry by CreamofTomatoSoup, tim/bernard & duke & tam & damian, 3.1k Tim almost gets shot during a public speech, which is a pretty average Tuesday. Being rescued by his civilian boyfriend, however, is not. ✦ beep beep!! by CreamofTomatoSoup, tim/bernard & bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & duke, 6.1k Bernard learned to drive from his henchman uncle. The last place he expects to use this skill is at a dinner with his boyfriend's family. ✦ little menace by InkpotSprite, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred, de-aged!tim, 16.2k wip "Did a two year old just outrun you?" Jason asked, wanting to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Bruce clenched his jaw. "I didn't want to hurt him." He growled. "Liar!" Tim piped up from under the desk. Jason was starting to like this version of his successor. ✦ It Wasn't Supposed to Be Like This: I wouldn't Change a Thing by Grayson1996, bruce & dick & steph, 4.1k She smiled tightly at him and stiffly beckoned him forward. If Bruce had to guess they weren’t close in the future, or perhaps she just didn’t know him. Regardless he stepped forward, though he didn’t turn to look at the figure on the bed just yet. For a moment the two simply stared at one another before Stephanie rolled her eyes at him. “Here’s where you apologize for pushing me against the wall.” Bruce felt guilt stir at the words despite the fact that she was clearly joking. ✦ in the lungs by hellsreluctantheir, tim & steph & cast, 2.8k It went bad the way things always went bad. All at once. Steph had taken out two thugs (and maybe picked up a sprained wrist though she wasn’t counting her chickens before they hatched) and Tim was almost finished up with his third, when she saw him get launched backwards, head hitting the railing at the side with a resounding clang. She saw him slump to the deck, saw him struggle weakly as the thug pulled him up by his cape and looked at him for a moment, before tossing him directly into the Gotham River.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I SAY THIS IS A BATFAM REC LIST BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHOVE THOSE ASSHOLES OUT OF THE WAY AND READ SOME SUPERFIC: ✦ Troublemakers by Kannika, clark & lois & conner, ~1k Introducing Conner and Lois is the worst mistake Clark has made in a long time. Because they're getting along. ✦ oh brother by corvidspectre, conner & lois & jon, 1.2k “So what are you being for Halloween?” Kon had asked when he got to the Kent's place. “Superboy!” Jon smiled, making Lois chuckle under her breath. ✦ Gut Feeling by Ao3time, lois & conner, 18.7k wip Lois Lane rescues a teenager who looks a lot like someone she knows...

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ my threads are coming loose by dizarys, dick & talia & cast, ~1k “Oh good, I see both you and Bruce are on the same page about unrealistic expectations for grieving,” muttered Dick. Talia sucked her teeth and turned back to the grave, long hair swinging. The sound was so much like Damian’s iconic tut that fresh tears welled in Dick’s eyes. ✦ Fatherhood; a Knife that Never Stops Cutting by minnow_doodle_doo, bruce & dick & alfred, no powers au, 2.1k There always seemed to be a thread that tied all their histories, from Alfred to Bruce back to Dick. Repeated over and over. And now it seemed that Dick found that the thread had been longer than he first thought. ✦ Tap Out by withthekeyisking, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian, read the tags, 4.8k Dick knows the importance of tapping out in training, so your partner doesn't accidentally hurt you. It becomes instinct, so heavily ingrained in him. He doesn't understand why his brothers don't do it, too. (Until they do, and it's too late.) ✦ A Death in the Family by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick & jason, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 12.4k The Joker has killed Jason Todd. Bruce tells Dick immediately, and Dick returns to the manor. Bruce will do anything to keep his remaining son safe and close. Dick thinks it's the grief that's keeping him exhausted. ✦ Car Crashes and Hot Chocolate by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 2.3k Dick almost dies trying to escape Bruce. Neither of them are happy about the outcome, and so they talk about it. This is a follow-up oneshot for A Death in the Family and is set before Into the Gilded Cage. This can technically be read alone, though it does have spoilers for A Death in the Family. ✦ Into the Gilded Cage by PrincessMariana , bruce & dick & tim, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 17.5k Tim investigates if Dick Grayson is being held against his will by Bruce Wayne. He somehow ends up spending the summer with the two at Wayne Manor. It might be a prison for Dick, but the more Tim stays, the less he wants to leave. This follows A Death in the Family, but you don't need to read that to read this. It might be useful, though. ✦ The Third Robin's Flight by PrincessMariana, bruce & dick & tim, yandere!bruce (?), read the tags, 13.7k wip Tim accepts his place as Bruce' third - and most loyal - son. When his mother dies and his father returns to Gotham, Tim once again must pick a side, but Bruce never lets go of his children easily. Meanwhile, Dick struggles with the ramifications of finding the Joker, and Bruce remembers why Batman needs a Robin. This follows Into the Gilded Cage. ✦ Family Crisis by librarylexicon, bruce & dick & tim & cass & steph & leslie & barbara & selina & amy & cast, read the tags, 78.1k wip At the close of the gang war, Batman uncovers an attempted deception concerning the life of his former protégé Stephanie Brown, and suddenly nothing is as important as his family. While Dick seeks absolution, Tim struggles with grief, Cassandra searches for belonging and Steph rebuilds her sense of self, Bruce faces the return of ghosts from his own past and psyche. (War Games AU) ✦ New Again by dustorange, dick & bruce & thomas wayne jr., 10.1k wip “I’m not a good man,” says Thomas. “No," Dick hesitates, then comes closer, "but you're not an old man either." (a.k.a. Earth 3's Thomas Wayne Jr. "helps" Batman and Robin get back to their world, only for Bruce alone to be sent back, leaving Dick stranded in Earth 3—with Thomas.) ✦ not anything, anymore by emavee, dick & bruce, 2k Bruce kicked him out four months ago. Apparently these particular kidnappers didn't get the memo.

✦ dreamer by day by justbeyondstars, dick & bruce & jason & tim, 5.3k In the next room over, Jason and Tim are laughing, and it startles Dick back into his body to remember he’s not alone. He feels impossibly empty, unmovable, untouchable. He almost forgets he's still on the phone until a voice says, “Is there anything I can do for you, Dick? Anything you need to make this easier?” Or: Dick is a lot of things to a lot of people. After getting some bad news, he has to grapple with the fact it might not always be enough. ✦ watching the world go dark by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 3.5k It wasn’t that Dick was suicidal exactly, but if an opportunity came about where he would have to actively save himself from death, he might just let go. He might not be suicidal, but he's not self-preserving either, and it’s becoming a real problem. Luckily, Bruce is a worried parent with a few detective skills. ✦ hold me like water (or hold me like a knife) by dizarys, bruce & dick & tim, 2k Dick's recovery after a amnesiac year as Ric Grayson is taking longer than expected. And has some difficult side effects.

BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO TAKE ALL THE SERIOUSNESS OUT OF THE ROOM AND STAY SOFT FOR AWHILE: ✦ And There Was Only One Bed: Family Edition by RandomReader13, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass, 1.7k “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Dick stood on his toes to peek over Jason’s shoulder into the hotel room and grimaced. “Uh, Bruce…” “There was a mix-up with the reservation,” Bruce grunted. ✦ so everyone's just a fucking scalie huh by destiny919, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass, 1.1k "Birds are animals, Jay." "What the fuck? No. Aren't they basically reptiles?" Jason demands. "First of all, no, you're thinking of dinosaurs, which is what they actually are in the Flintstones. Second of all, reptiles are animals." "Bullshit." "Okay, I..." Tim pinches his nose. "Okay. I think I see the problem here." "Yes, Todd sustained a traumatic brain injury the other night and didn't see fit to inform anyone before we left on this inane trip." ✦ The Batmobile (and other Bat things) by JeanjacketCarf, bruce & dick & clark & justice league, 2k “Batmobile?!” Barry looked incredulous. It was clear he was missing the point of the story. “He called it the Batmobile? Out loud? In front of you?” Clark shrugged. “Yeah, twice. I’m sure I heard it right.” “Batmobile, my god,” Barry said shaking his head. “I can’t believe it.” Or Apparently, the Bat-Man is not a cryptid, he's a guy who gives his stuff silly names ✦ Vampire Bats by Sohotthateveryonedied, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke & cast, 4.1k Despite the many, many obstacles, having his kids turn into vampires isn’t as tragic as Bruce anticipated it would be. Whenever one of them is grounded, all Bruce has to do is hang a cross on their door and they’re sufficiently contained. And the energy boost has been incredibly helpful on patrols. ✦ Adventures in Batsitting by raven_of_hydecastle, bruce & dick & clark & lois & justice league, 10k wip "What, you're telling me the great Batman couldn't stop a nine-year-old from sneaking out?" Green Lantern scoffed. "At least come up with a believable excuse." It was Batman's turn to scoff. "Like anyone else could do better. If you can keep Robin off the streets for a week, I'll buy you a Porsche." *** AKA The JLA stages an intervention with Batman to get Robin off the streets. it goes downhill from there.

BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT'LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ though the sun and sky may fade (all shall be remade) by queenofthestarrrs, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.8k Dick Grayson asks a lot of questions. ✦ My Little Robin by tyrianzzz, jim & dick & bruce, 1.6k After being Partners with the Bat for so long Gordon tries not to question his life choices. Until Robin comes along. ✦ I Wish My Father Had More Sons by shipNslash, bruce & dick & jason & alfred, 9.4k Jason Todd and Dick Grayson, from strangers to brothers to enemies and back again.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #conner kent #battison #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post

553 notes · View notes

ivysangel · 4 months

Note

hello angel 💕

as much as i love confident, cocky jason in bed, i also think he doesn’t have a lot of experience (just go with me here). between dying young and his all consuming question for revenge, i don’t think he’s actually had that many sexual partners or relationships. simply where would he find the time? like he’s familiar with the mechanics, knows what feels good and how to make a partner feel good, but he doesn’t really have a frame of reference for his preferences.

but that’s the exciting part! he gets to discover what really turns him on and gets him off with you! he figures out that he likes pinning you down and immobilizing you with his body but that ropes are a no go. that fucking you through at least four of your own orgasms first has him cumming so hard there’s stars in his vision. that he doesn’t like pain unless it’s from your nails clawing up his back. everything’s up for grabs and you get to figure it all out with him.

sunnie (@fic-over-cannon)

let out audible noises reading this...my entire body is tingling sunnie like you just CANNOT do this to me. i really don't even...how do i add to this??? what do i say other than i love you!!!!

this basically being the precursor to confident jason?? the first time you guys have sex, it's pretty vanilla, he makes you cum regardless, and it's still amazing and better than most guys with experience, but you can tell he's still a bit unsure of himself. he still hesitates to move too quickly, he's still scared to hurt you, and he still asks, "is this okay?" and "does this feel good?" but not in a sexy "i want to hear you" kinda way, in an "i'm worried i'm doing a bad job" kinda way.

like i said, the sex was never bad, but boy, does it get better when he discovers what he likes. you're play fighting when he finds out he likes it when you can't move under him. he's got you pinned between him and your living room carpet, trying to get out from his hold, and he's literally got a growing boner pressed into you through his pants. ropes are a no-go because not only does he have awful memories associated with them, but the prospect of not being able to touch you and you not being able to touch him pisses him off.

he finds out he likes it when you leave scratches on him one random night after you successfully sneak out of a wayne enterprises gala. expensive shoes and an even more expensive dress on the floor, but those pretty red nails you'd gotten on a whim stay attached to your fingers, leaving bright red lines up and down his back.

he likes it when you wear lingerie but thinks it's hotter when you wear cute matching pajama sets. he's fond of red, but green's his favorite color; you have to stay vigilant with birth control around christmas time. he'll never do public places but a bathroom or car here and there he won't say no to. he likes sex in the morning and in the shower. he likes it in the kitchen and on the couch but prefers the bed. he's not opposed to the floor, but he'll only do it there when he's desperate.

he gets turned on when you show interest in his hobbies and even more turned on when you talk about yours. he likes overstimulating you but not to the point where you're in pain, and he loves getting head but loves eating you out more.

his biggest turn-on is verbal consent; he wants to hear that you want him, and if you want him to do anything unconventional in any way, that's how you go about it. tell him in the middle of dinner how badly you need him, and he'll politely excuse you from the table, drive you guys a few miles away and then pull over and fuck you silly.

#★ dirty laundry ★#jason todd lover #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood x you #★ sunnie ★

438 notes · View notes

dragonpyre · 1 year

Text

Secret Robin AU masterpost

Part 1

Part 2 Robin's beginning

Part 3 Red Hood enters the scene

Part 4 A wild Timmy appears

Part 5 Dick introduces Jason to vigilantism

Part 6 Hood takes a hit

Part 7 Excuses

Part 8 Spoiler!

Part 9 Bruce is faceblind

Part 10 Dami!

Part 11 No, Jason did not die

Part 12 It's not kidnapping it's express adoption

Part 13 Cass <3

Part 14 Jason's year abroad

Part 15 Pay my tuition, B

Part 16 Bruce's photo album

Part 17 Part 6 follow up

Part 18 Bruce is a dad

Part 19 Batdad with his batkids

Part 20 Nightmares

Part 21 Merry Christmas!

Part 22 Belated presents for the robins

Part 23 Naptime

Part 24 Bruce is a meanie

Part 25 Babs

Part 26 Dami has the flu

Part 27 When you call your teacher "dad"

Part 28 ASL

Part 29 The secret's out

Part 30 Bagged lunches

Part 31 Bruce likes to brag

Part 32 Duke!

Part 33 Commit to the bit

Part 34 Birthdays

Part 35 Allowance

Part 36 The Talk

Part 37 Auntie Kate

Part 38 Adoption amnesia

Part 39 Red Robin (yummm)

Part 40 Growth Spurt

Part 41 Piggy back ride

Part 42 Lift the bebe

Part 43 Tim's polycule

Part 44 Trouble at a Gala

Part 45 Bruce doesn't have favorites

Part 46 Grounded

Part 47 Family photo

Part 48 Sibling fun

Part 49 Betting pool

Part 50 Meme on dad

Part 51 Talia's patented growth serum

Part 52 Secret identity scale

Part 53 Bruce's coping skills

Part 54 Close calls

Part 55 Dichotomy

Part 56 Robin HQ

Part 57 Caramelldansen

Part 58 Detective Tim

Part 59 Happy Purim

Part 60 Plight of the adopted

Part 61 Identity reveal(?)

Part 62 Commissioner Gordon

Part 63 Dis Track

Part 64 A win is a win

Part 65 Family secret

Part 66 Don't carry your phone on you

Part 67 Eat the rich

Part 68 Trampoline

Part 69 (nice) Grief

Part 70 Fencing class

Jason's outfits

Chronological order

Dick's shirts

Fanfic based on the AU

Little Known Fact: Bruce Wayne Is Face blind by LittleDoot

Secret Robins by alliumtoms

#secret robin au #text post #batman #batfamily #dc #dc comics #dccomics #batfam

4K notes · View notes

bizbat · 4 months

Text

All Wrapped up

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

~ Explicit smut

~ Reader is alluded to be smaller than Bruce, but appearance is otherwise not described

~ Reader wears a dress and makeup

~ Partially based on these headcanons

~ You can find more of my works here

~ Wc: 3.6k

C/W: Smut, PiV penetration, Mdom, Healthy Dom/Sub dynamics (consent checks, aftercare, establishment of a safeword, etc.), Bondage, Oral (male & female receiving), Finger sucking, Fingering, Slight slapping, Spit, Face fucking, Slight humiliation, Praise and degradation, Pet names (Angel, Pretty, Baby, Girl/Good girl, Sir, Slut), Dacryphilia, Pussy job, Cervix fucking, Mating press, Slight Breeding, Creampie, Size difference

It's the holiday season, and what could be a better gift than you, all wrapped up in a pretty, red ribbon?

Bruce found himself collapsing into a plush chair, massaging his temples as he stared down into the crowd from his position on the balcony. He tugged at the neck of his fluffy, green, turtle neck, the one his wife, Y/n had begged him to wear. Apparently, they matched, as she was dressed in a gorgeous gown with a red, corseted bodice, and a flowing, green, tulle skirt.

As if sensing his dismay, Y/n climbed up the staircase leading to the balcony Bruce was hiding away on, her heels clicking against the marble floor alerting him of her presence. He didn't look up as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, the smell of her expensive perfume flooding his nose as she hugged him. He looked at her over his shoulder as she pulled away, taking in her appearance.

She looked perfect. He hair was curled and artfully pinned atop her head with ribbons, the bodice of her gown was tailored to her exactly, pushing her breasts up and together. It drew attention to her necklace that accentuated her neck, the gold bejeweled with bright red rubies that flattered her skin tone.

Y/n stroked Bruce's cheek with a gloved hand, a big, warm smile decorating her face as she kissed the tip of his nose, a smudge of lipgloss left in her wake. She giggled as he wiped it away with a cloth napkin on the table. Though, her smile dimmed a bit when she noticed the less than happy expression on her husband's face.

"I . . ." She looked down at the crowd of people over the balcony, people of all classes eating, drinking, and dancing together in the Wayne Manor ballroom. She had begged Bruce to throw a Christmas Gala, to have an open invitation so that it would be available to everyone, and not just the famous and wealthy, though now she could see that it really was begging to wear him down.

She ran her fingers through his hair, the perfectly slicked locks now wild from him running his hands through his hair multiple times. "Thank you, Bruce." She whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "I know you don't usually like these things, and you really didn't-"

"I wanted to." He cut her off as she began to ramble, a pout on her painted lips. "It's my gift." He stroked her chin with his thumb. "As long as you enjoy yourself, then I'll be happy."

Y/n nodded, though not fully convinced. Bruce hated galas, and parties, or public events of any kind, and he sacrificed valuable time so he could attend, and not just leave his wife to host it on her own. Y/n pressed her forehead to his once again, before hearing someone call her name from below. She turned to Bruce, who gave her his best reassuring smile, before quickly leaving his line of sight amongst the partygoers.

Bruce didn't see her the rest of the night, not even when the event came to an end and everyone began pouring out of the manor, gifts in hand. He had asked Alfred if he had seen her, but it seems the old man was just as clueless to her whereabouts as he was. Bruce tried not to think about all of the situations she could be in, his headache from earlier quickly worsening with every moment.

He was finally able to escape to his and Y/n's shared room once Damian and Duke were snug in bed, and the rest of his children were home for the night. He was still worried about her, though, as it was soon replaced with relief. And then, with arousal.

He found Y/n on their bed, her arms and legs constrained with a single red ribbon. In her mouth was another ribbon, preventing her from speaking as Bruce locked the door behind him, and traversed beside her on the bed, all while never taking his eyes off her. He chuckled to himself as he stroked her head, his eyes trailing her restrained figure.

"What is this, huh? Is this my gift?" Y/n nodded, her eyes wide as she stared up at Bruce's imposing figure, looming over her from the bedside. Bruce's fingers ghosted down her cheek before brushing against her lips, her lip gloss smudged and partially removed from the cloth ribbon between her teeth. He tugged the ribbon out of her mouth, replacing the fabric gag with his thumb.

His pants tightened as he watched her suck on his thumb without prompting. "Good girl," He cooed. "Such an obedient little slut for me." Y/n nodded around his finger, her eyes never leaving his as she circled his thumb with her tongue, hollowing her cheeks around the appendage.

Bruce pulled his thumb from her mouth, a string of spit connecting it to her tongue as she briefly chased after it. "You gonna be my good girl? Gonna use your words?" Bruce stroked Y/n's heir, the ribbons from earlier now absent. "Yes sir." She said, her eyes glossy and her cheeks and ears on fire. "Gonna be good. Gonna be your good girl."

"Then stick out your tongue for me, baby." Bruce commanded, leaning down and enveloping it in his own mouth when she immediately followed his orders. He palmed his stiffening cock through his pants. He hissed as he pulled away, unzipping his green pants and sliding them down just far enough to take his cock out.

He pumped his shaft to full firmness as he practically glared down at Y/n, watching as she bit her glossy lip in anticipation. He watched her squirm in her bindings, the red ribbon decorating her barse skin. It tied her wrists together in front of her, going down and tieing her knees and ankles as well.

Bruce groaned as he jerked himself off in front of his wife. "You gonna suck my cock pretty girl? Gonna make me feel good?" Y/n bit her lip so hard Bruce worried she might draw blood, as she rapidly nodded her head. Bruce brough his free hand down upon Y/n's cheek, just hard enough to sting. "Use your words, girl." He lightly squeezed her cheeks as he made her look at him.

"I wanna suck your cock, sir!" She wriggled around in her binding, her cunt growing slick as Bruce teased her with his cock. He smiled, brushing his thumb against his head, swiping off a bead of precum and pushing it between her lips.

He bit his own lip as Y/n tasted him. "That's it . . . that's my good fucking girl." Bruce straddled Y/n's chest, kneeling over her as he pressed his cock to her swollen lips. She opened her mouth wide for Bruce, sticking out her tongue as she waited for his permission.

Bruce rested his tip against her tongue, thrusting his hips lightly as pearls of his precum spread across her muscle, before pushing further into Y/n's mouth. He paused when she started to choke on his length, even though was only about halfway in. "Breath, baby. You can take it."

He grunted as she swallowed him deeper, breathing through her nose. "That's it . . . That's it."He held back her hair so he could see her entire face. "Just like that." He groaned, the warmth of her mouth sending a shiver run up his spine.

He continued to mumble praises as she took him deeper and deeper down her throat, his hips thrusting in front of her face. He began to increase his pace, his ears burning as the sound of his wife gagging on his cock filled the room.

Bruce held Y/n's head still as he fucked her throat, spit dripping down her chin and pooling across her chest, glossing her tits and slicking her lips. He grunted as his muscles tightened, a sign of his impending orgasm.

He pulled out of Y/n's mouth, rapidly pumping his shaft before thick, white spurts of his creamy cum landed on her face and waiting tongue. "Don't." He warned when he saw her begin retracting her cum covered tongue back into her mouth.

Y/n's face was on fire, humiliation coursing through her veins as the cum mixed with the excess saliva on her tongue and began to drip down onto her and chest. She whined, pleading for Bruce to let her swallow. "What do you want, angel?" He lightly tapped her cheek, reminding her to speak. "You said you were gonna be good. I can't do anything unless you tell me what you want."

"Wan'-" She huffed, trying to speak with her tongue sticking out. "Wanna swallow. Wanna swallow your cum, sir." It was unclear, but Bruce deciphered her words, laughing at her as she shivered, pleading with wide, tear-struck eyes. "Just stay there a little longer baby," he panted, stroking her hair. "I wanna get a good look at you like this."

She looked even better like this, her hair messy from laying against the pillows, her hardened nipples showing through the soaked, red ribbon that laid across her chest. Bruce bit his lip and groaned, his cock still painfully hard.

Y/n's thighs rubbed together in an attempt to stimulate her neglected heat. "Bruce," she whined, drool and cum seeping across her body the longer her tongue was out. "Please sir . . . please let me swallow." Bruce reached a hand down between her thighs, his fingers just barely brushing against her cunt.

"There's my good girl. Go ahead, baby, since you asked so nicely."

Y/n pulled her tongue back into her mouth, savoring the taste of the cum that hadn't slipped off her tongue and onto her tits. Bruce pressed firmly on her clit, circling it with broad, slow circles. Y/n whined again, pleading for him to increase his speed. Bruce, tired of her misbehavior, lightly slapped her clit. "Last warning. Either take what I give you, or use your fucking words."

Bruce hovered his hand over her mound, threatening to smack her again should she continue to misbehave. "I-I'm s-sorry sir, I'll be good!" Bruce thought for a moment. "Come to think of it . . . maybe you don't even deserve to cum, huh? Maybe I should just fuck your mouth and not your pretty pussy, leave you squirming, all tied up so you can't touch yourself."

"Is that what you fucking want?" Bruce stroked her lower lips, teasing her by not touching her clit. "No sir!" Y/n furiously shook her head, flexing her hips to try and get Bruce to properly touch her. "I wanna cum! I want you to fuck my pussy, sir! Please!" Bruce leaned down, his forehead pressed against her own. "Then be good."

He punctuated his sentence with a final smack to her clit, rubbing rapid circles against her pearl before she could react. Bruce watched her face, stray tears slipping down her cheeks as her mouth hung open. "How's that feel, baby? Am I making you feel good?" Y/n thrashed in her bindings, rutting her hips against Bruce's skilled hand.

"Ngh~ Feels good, sir! Feels so good!" Y/n huffed, panting as Bruce brought her closer and closer to her first orgasm of the night. Bruce smirked, his pressure and speed increasing ever so slightly, just enough to bring his wife to the brink of climax. Sensing her orgasm, Bruce leaned forwards, catching her lips with his own as his fingers finally pushed Y/n over the edge, never slowing down as he helped her ride out her orgasm.

Once he felt her juices leak Bruce ripped down the red velvet that his her soft mounds from his sight, leaving the ribbon tying her wrists together, doing the same for her legs, untying her knees but leaving her ankles as her pushed her legs apart. He pushed in two long, thick fingers, curling them against that spongy spot inside of Y/n, and watching her every slight reaction.

"Sir, please! I'll be good! I'll be good, just, please!" Y/n begged, her legs spread wide for Bruce, his palm rubbing her clit as his fingers skillfully thrust in and out of her warm, slick walls. "Please what, pretty? What do you need?" Bruce grunted as he kneeled above her, one hand between her thighs, one hand gripping the wooden headboard, the wood lightly splintering from his tight grip.

"I need your cock, sir! Please fuck me already!" Bruce chuckled, feeling her heat squeeze around his fingers. "You want my cock? You want me to fuck you like the little slut you are?" The sound of his palm slapping against Y/n's clit as he finger fucked her filled the room. The sound of Y/n's desperate huffs and moans was like music to his ears, the tears streaming down her face more beautiful than any original in his gallery.

A desperate "Yes sir!" slipping past her lips without her even having to think about it. Bruce smirked, continuing to finger her as he moved his thumb to circle her aching, neglected clit. "Almost pretty, almost. Wanna taste you first." Bruce released the headboard, holding both of her wrists in one, large hand. "Can you be patient for me, baby? Let me taste you?"

Bruce somehow further increased his pace, loud squelches echoing in the large room. "Fuck!" He groaned, feeling Y/n tighten around his fingers once again as she rapidly approached her second orgasm. "Come on, baby! Let me fucking taste you." He continued thrusting his fingers for a few more moments, quickly pulling them out when Y/n whimpered out a "yes, sir".

He let go of her wrists, ripping off his sweat soaked sweater as he moved to lay on his stomach between Y/n's legs. He flattened his tongue, licking a long, firm stripe up her soaking wet cunt. He wrapped his laps around her clit, sucking her nub before releasing with a wet 'pop'.

He lifted her thighs, shoving his tongue into her hole as deep as possible, before replacing it with his fingers. He carefully thrusted his fingers in and out as he returned to sucking her clit, curling them against her g spot as he listened to her moans and cries, the strong suction throwing her over the edge.

He didn't stop as more of her juices coated his chin and fingers, leaking down and soaking the sheets beneath her. He licked up as much of her essence as possible as she eventually came down from her high. Once he was finished, Bruce rose back up on his hands, capturing Y/n's lips with his, letting her taste her own juices on his tongue.

She moaned into his mouth, chasing after him when he inevitably pulled away from her. He shoved his pants down the rest of the way, kicking them across the room, before hovering over Y/n once again, pinning her wrists above her head as he lined his cock up with her hole.

"You want it, baby? You want me to fuck you?" Y/n pulled her lip between her teeth, her eyes magnetized to the space between the two of them. She nodded, whining when Bruce thrusted his cock against her, rather than inside her, selfishly using her slick mound to get himself off. "Look at me," Bruce gave her no time to comply, grabbing her face again as he forced her to keep her eyes on him, his cockhead catching on her clit as he thrust his hips.

"I need a yes or a no, pretty." "Yes!" Y/n's teeth released her lower lip, as she shouted, her skin swollen from the biting and kissing. "Yes, sir! Please, I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

Bruce lined himself back up with her pussy, smirking at her desperate tone as he prepared to penetrate her. "S'all you had to say, baby . . ." Without further warning he thrust his cock inside of her, stilling when he felt her tight walls begin resisting him. He threw his head back, a guttural groan escaping him as he entered his wife's tight walls.

"Shit, baby," He groaned, panting above his wife's body. He grabbed her wrists again, holding them above her head as he slowly began fucking deeper, her hole accepting him little by little, stilling again once he was fully inside her.

"Bruce . . ." Y/n whined, wiggling her hips. "Please, sir, want you to move." Bruce shallowly pumped his hips, his cock brushing against her puckered cervix. He looked down at her face, holding back a laugh when she wriggled and squirmed in his hold. "Sir, please!" She sobbed.

"All right, all right. No more teasing. You remember the word?" Y/n nodded, though, she quickly corrected herself. "Yes, sir, I remember." Bruce leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to her sweaty hearline. "There's my good little slut. M' gonna move now, okay?" He stroked one of her wrists with his thumb. "O-okay," Y/n warbled out, her head rolling forward at the feeling of being stuffed with Bruce's cock.

Bruce pulled his hips away, till only his tip remained inside, before slamming his hips forwards, stealing Y/n's breath from her lungs. His hips pounded hers, the sound of their love a beautiful cacophony that overwhelmed both of their senses. "How's that, baby? That feel good?" Y'n didn't respond, her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling of Bruce's bruising thrusts.

He decided to be nice, continuing his firm movements, encouraged by the little gasps and moans that subconsciously escaped his wife. He made no effort to hold back his own noises, grunting and groaning as he pushed Y/n's knees to her chest, hitting deeper than what would be thought possible.

Bruce held her legs down with one hand, resting some of his weight on her as he continued to fuck her deeply, gripping the headboard again to give himself more leverage. Y/n pressed her hands to his chest, her fingernails digging into his skin. She needed something to keep her tethered to the world as he fucked her. She sobbed whenever he hit a certain spot, and Bruce made sure to brush against it with every thrust.

"That's it, baby! Take it just like that!" He grunted, his strokes firm, yet perfectly angled to hit her sweet spot. He groaned, his hand on the headboard shooting down to rub Y/n's clit again. He felt his own orgasm creeping ever closer as she squeezed his length. "Gonna cum on my cock, huh? Gonna cum on this fucking cock?"

At this point he was talking more to himself, as Y/n was very clearly not entirely all there, drool dripping down the side of her gaping mouth, and her eyes rolled all the way back into her skull. "You're such a perfect little slut for me. Oh, take it, baby."

The wooden headboard slammed against the wall at the force of his thrusts, and if he was less consumed with his wife's tight, wet flesh, he'd be more thankful that he'd had all of the rooms in the manor soundproofed. Nevertheless, he groaned, his blood running hot as he felt Y/n dig her nails into his skin, deep enough to leave angry, red crescents.

"That's it, that's it, that's it," He chanted, his fingers slicked with Y/n's juices as he circled her clit. "That's it, baby, cum on my cock!" Y/n sobbed, juices gushing around Bruce's cock as her walls gripped him, almost refusing to let him pull out, not that he wanted to. Part of this gift was going to be the feeling of his wife's warm pussy as he came inside her.

He wasn't too far behind her, the muscles in his thighs and calves tightening as he fucked Y/n's cervix, his cock twitching inside her as hot, white cum gushed out around his shaft. He slowly fucked Y/n, his thrusts becoming shallow as he cahased his high. He let her legs drop, massaging them as the blood slowly started to return.

Once he caught his breath, he pulled the bow tying her wrists together, raising his hand to her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as he once again rested his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a moment. "How . . ." he cleared his throat, his voice slightly hoarse.

"How do you feel? Are you hurt anywhere?" He slid his fingers into Y/n's hair, gently massaging her scalp as he spoke. In turn, she ran her hands across his chest and shoulders, massaging his traps. "No," Y/n shook her head. "I feel good. How about you, how do you feel?" Bruce dropped his head to rest in the crook between her neck and shoulder, kissing her sensitive skin.

"Mm," He ran his hand over her side, inhaling her natural scent. "Good." Y/n smiled, wrapping her arms around Bruce's shoulders and pulling him down, encouraging him to relax and drop his weight. He did just that, though, he still held himself up with his elbows, careful not to crush his wife.

He dug one arm under her, scooping her up and rolling over to his side, so she was laid across his chest. She giggled, resting her head against her husband's strong body. "Did you enjoy your gift?" She looked up at him with warm eyes and a tired smile.

"I did," Bruce smiled down at her, his expression mirroring hers. "Did you?" She leaned up, pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "I loved it." She whispered, her throat a bit sore. Nothing some tea with honey and lemon couldn't fix in the morning. "Wanna take a bath?" Bruce asked, stroking Y/n's bare shoulder as she sleepily drew circles on his chest. "In a minute."

Bruce nodded, exhaustion overtaking his massive frame. He played with his wife's hair as she drifted into slumber on his chest. He basked in the glow of their love, a warm, sappy feeling swirling around inside him and squeezing his heart. He would wake her later, letting her sleep peacefully, for now.

#bizbat #batman #bruce wayne #batman smut #batman fluff #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne fluff #dc #batfam #bruce wayne x wife!reader #how the grinch stole christmas #dc smut #smut

469 notes · View notes

bumblebeesfromvenus · 4 months

Text

Deck the Halls 🎻

Bale!Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

A/N: This is the ultimate crossover, Bale!Bruce and Christmas, what more could you want??? I don't know quite how I feel about it mainly because I wrote most of it at 3 am lmao. Love-hate relationship, I guess. I hope you like it, anyway!

~Fi 🐝

Fi's Christmas Market ☃️

Warnings: implied angst?? Mention of his parents' death (very briefly), so much fluff omg, starring Alfred, Selina, and Lucius, Bruce is obsessed with you <3

Word count: 3.6k

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

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

"A Gingerbread house contest?"

Bruce gave you a skeptical look as you explained your idea for the annual Wayne Yule Ball. You were sitting at the meeting table in the office of Wayne Enterprises, brain storming ideas to make this years Gala a little more interesting. The events were always quite boring, the only thing keeping your spirits up was the bar most of the time.

You'd occasionally hang around on the side lines with Alfred, people-watching Gothams wealth. This year had to be different. You were sick and tired of the fad and dragging evenings.

This was the Yule Ball, after all. The Manor would be decked in lights and ornaments, the lovely tunes of Christmas would echo through the halls and you'd actually have some fun for once.

Bruce would try to make them more bearable for you, inviting you to dance as much as he could, even if it earned him detesting looks. He wasn't a huge fan either, but it was his duty. He'd rather be curled up with you, feeling your warmth against his skin while doing your favorite festive activities.

Selina was seated next to you, twirling a pen between her fingers, looking like she was about to collapse from boredom. Alfred sat next to Bruce with a notepad, writing down any ideas that had come forth. Lucius was there too, of course, hoping to aid in any technical things.

"Yeah, why not? We need to do something interesting this year, and a making Gingerbread houses is a pretty classic activity, no?" You responded, shrugging slightly.

"I'll definitely come to the Ball if you pull through with that." Selina smirked. Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, honey? I mean, most of the people that attend aren't really ones to get their hands dirty."

"If I may, Master Bruce, I think it's a great idea." Alfred interrupted politely, making you smile. "I think it's important for the rich of Gotham to not lose touch with the average life. And, it'd be quite sweet, wouldn't it?"

Alfred grinned, proud of the pun he just made. You let put a small giggle while Selina and Lucius were smiling slightly. Bruce, on the other hand, sighed as his brows pulled together.

"Alright, so if we do this, who's going to be the judge?" He asked, finally caving in to your request.

"I knew you'd come around," you smiled, watching as a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, "I think it's pretty obvious. Alfred should judge the houses."

"Me? Miss, I'm flattered but I don't think I have the expertise to-"

"Nonesense, Alfie," Selina cut him off, "We've all seen what you can do in the kitchen. If anyone's going to judge anything, it should be you."

"I agree. He does make a mean Victoria Sponge." Luscius agreed, his reasoning strong enough to make Alfred ponder for a moment.

"It doesn't just have to be houses. We can just give them creative freedom, let them go at it." You suggested, earning nods of approval.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," Selina mumbled, inhaling a sharp breath,"What if we make it a family event? Let them bring their kids. They'd probably be more open to the whole idea that way."

"Good thinking, Miss Kyle."

Bruce chewed on his lips as he thought. This would be very different than most years. His parents had started the tradition of a yearly Yule Ball, and he was afraid to make changes. But then he thought back to how his parents always tried to keep a somewhat humble life to be able to help the people in need more efficiently. Also, he could never say no to you.

"Okay. Why not. Even if they don't enjoy it, at least we'll have a good time." He smiled softly, looking at you. You almost beamed with excitment.

"We need a price too, right? What's the point of a contest without a price." Selina intervened. A silence fell over the room as everyone was thinking of what the price coule be.

"I say we give the winner an hour with Bruce's credit card and see how much damage they can do." You snorted, meaning it as a joke but when you weren't met with disagreement a surpirsed expression took over your face.

"Fine by me." Bruce shrugged. You forgot that he was a billionaire sometimes.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that but that just upped my determination by 100%." Selina grinned, making Bruce roll his eyes.

Bruce started talking to Lucius about the organizational aspects while you discreetly high fived Selina under the table. You'd talked about this idea before, your friend mostly finding it funny that the most esteemed people of Gotham would have to struggle with sprinkles and sticky icing.

She was quite impressed you pulled through, although that Bruce agreed wasn't a surprise to her. He'd do about anything you asked, which she sometimes used to her advantage.

"You truly have him wrapped around your finger, huh?" Selina mused, sending a sly smirk your way. You leaned back in your chair, inspecting the shimmering wedding band on your hand.

"Well, he wouldn't have put a ring on it if I hadn't." You grinned, making Selina shake her head with a chuckle.

"When do I need to be there to see Gotham get down and dirty?"

"December 25th, 8:00 pm, Wayne Manor."

"See ya then." The brunette gave you one last grin before taking her leave, claiming she had some 'business' to attend to. The so called 'business' would surely end up on the front page of the Gotham Gazette tomorrow morning. She was a great friend despite her passion for her illegal hobby. You couldn't really blame her, though. She'd grown up with nothing, and had to fight to survive.

You were the last one to complain if one of Gothams renowned business men mysteriously lost a couple of million dollars, which then appeared donated to a charity the next day. She'd never steal from you, or Bruce.

That's not to say she hadn't tried, but Selina did find that Martha's necklace suited you just a tad better than her. She had quite the soft spot for you, you weren't like the rest of the wealthy people she knew. You were honest, understanding and kind. Selina put a great amount of trust in you and she knew you'd never break it. If that meant having to put up with Bruce once in a while, so be it.

Alfred slipped into the seat next to you, Bruce and Luscius still discussing the guest list, when to send the invites, and to order all the necessary things for the contest.

"Truly a marvelous idea, Mrs. Wayne. He never dared to make any changes before you came along, you know?"

You turned you head towards him, a slight blush on your cheeks. Did you really have that much of an impact on him? To think that you were the one that made the Bruce Wayne soften and be more open to change made your heart swell with pride.

"Really? I thought he just never cared that much. For the Ball, I mean." You said, intrigued of what you were about to learn from Alfred about your beloved Husband.

"No, no, not at all. It was his favorite thing as a boy. What I'd do to see him happy like that again." The older man sighed, a melancholic tint in his eyes.

You smiled at the thought of Bruce being excited for Christmas. Just being a boy. You reckoned all of that changed after his parents' death. The warm and loving holiday was now left in gray dullness and the emptiness that he felt in his heart when he'd sit under the tree, all alone, yearning for a hug from his father and the gentle touch of his mothers lips on his cheek.

You were determined to fill that void, shower him in all your love until the gaping hole in his chest was fixed. Who knew if it was possible, but you were willing to give it your all.

"You will, I promise." You replied softly, gently placing your hand on his arm. Alfred gave you an appreciative smile, the sadness in his eyes wavering slightly. He softly padded your hand, resting it on it for a moment.

"You make him so happy already, though. I suppose I can't complain too much, can I?" He joked, making you laugh softly.

"I'm just loving him, that's all."

"That's all he needed." Alfred smiled softly.

Bruce glanced over to you, his heart pouding with pure love as he saw you laughing with Alfred. His two favorite people were getting along so well, it made unbridled joy bloom in his chest. You had changed his life, only for the better, you made him feel like a person again.

For years he'd been aimlessly wandering, hoping to find himself. He was lost in the dark, going through life pretending to be someone he wasn't. Or was he? He didn't know. But you were his guiding light, your gentle flicker lighting up his path. Your soft warmth getting him through many a cold night when the thoughts of self doubt and fear were gnawing at him.

All he needed was you pressed against his chest, your soft breathing like a sweet lullaby to him as you slept peacefully in his arms.

"Mister Wayne? Mister Wayne-" Lucius voice broke him out of his daydream, his back straightend and he cleared his throat, hoping no one caught him. You were still chatting on with Alfred, so you hadn't noticed, good. But when he looked over to Lucius, there was a knowing smirk on the man's face.

"Yes, Mr. Fox? Do you have the guest list ready?" Bruce questioned, fiddling with his fingers. He looked at Lucius expectantly, trying to hide his slight embarrassment.

"I don't blame you for staring. She fills the role of Mrs. Wayne perfectly." He answered, a gentle smile on his face. Bruce's shoulders immediately dropped, the tension fading away. He let out a small huff through his nose with a tight lipped smile.

"She does, doesn't she? It's like she was made for this. Made for me." He said quietly, the adoring look in his eyes as he admired you not being missed by the Inventor. Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Why don't you spend the day together? I'll take care of everything." He said reassuringly.

Bruce's eyes widened slightly and he turned to face Lucius.

"Lucius-"

"No, I won't hear it. Go on, spend the day with her." He gave him chuckle before patting his back and gathering his things.

"We're done here, Mrs. Wayne. You can have your husband back." Lucius laughed, packing up the last of his documents. You giggled, which immediately set Bruce's heart aflame.

"How gracious of you, Mr. Fox." You teased, getting out of your chair, Alfred by your side.

"Let's go, my love. We have Christmas movies to watch and a dog to cuddle." You chirped, dragging him out of his chair.

All he could do was smile as he let himself be taken by you and wonder how he got this damn lucky.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were now curled up on the couch, Bruce by your side, his arm draped around you. Your dog, Rudy, was snoozing on your lap as you scratched his head. The extra weight and warmth of your pup made it hard to keep your eyes open.

You were resting comfortably against Bruce, who traced gentle patterns on your arm as he was tentatively watching the TV. A smile tugged at your lips at Bruce's soft breaths, his strong chest falling and rising, lulling you to sleep. Your smile was cut off by a yawn. You lifted your hand from Rudy's head to cover your mouth, but he let out a whine, immediately nudging at your hand.

You chuckled groggily, trying to keep the sleep at bay so you could enjoy your moment with Bruce.

"'M sorry, buddy." You cooed, going back to petting your fur baby.

"You're tired, honey, I'll take over. Go to sleep." Bruce said softly in your ear, gently moving your hand and replacing it with his, making Rudy's tail wag slightly.

"S'your fault for being so warm and comfy and- you." You mumbled, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

"I mean, I can stop." He teased, taking his arm away from around you. You caught his wrist in a surprisingly tight grip.

"Do it and see what happens." You slurred, eyes still closed. Even in your sleepy state, you were still your feisty little self.

"Alright, I'd like to keep my arm, please." He laughed, wrapping his arm around you again, just a little tighter this time. You nuzzled closer to his side, making Rudy begrudgingly adjust his position as well.

"Are you excited for the Yule Ball?" You asked quietly, looking up at your husband as best as you could with sleep tugging at your limbs.

"I am. For the first time in a while, actually. Thanks to you." He replied with a soft smile, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose. A lopsided smile crept onto your face, and you stretched your neck a bit to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

"I love you." You mumbled before finally dozing off with a smile on your face.

"I love you too, honey." Bruce whispered gently, his lips pressed to the top of your head as he sunk into the couch.

He couldn't wait for the Ball. Something he loved so dearly that was tainted for him for many years was now coming back to him brighter than ever. All thanks to you, the lovely woman he chose to marry.

He'd marry you anew every single day if he could.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The day had finally come, and you were a nervous wreck. You really didn't want to mess this up. You had big shoes to fill; Martha Wayne was loved by Gotham, and now that you held the title of Mrs. Wayne, you didn't want to disappoint anyone.

Not the people of Gotham, not Martha, but most importantly, not him. You'd been running around like a headless chicken the entire day, double checking everything so nothing could go wrong.

The decorations were being set up, and you might've snapped at a poor worker for hanging one of the garlands a little too much to the right. You were stressed out of your mind, regretting ever suggesting this. Right now, you were checking if all the sheets of Gingerbread had arrived and if all the decorations were set up.

The gentle touch of Bruce's hand on your shoulder snapped you out of the frenzy in your head. He guided you to a quiet corner with a hand on the small of your back.

"Bruce, I have to get back to-"

He interrupted you with a firm kiss, cupping your cheeks.

"No. You're completely stressing yourself out, and we can't have that. I'll take care of everything. And now you need to take care of yourself. Take a bath, get ready, do whatever you need to do. Please, calm down. Everything will be perfect, I promise." He said it so softly you could feel all the anxiety and stress fall away.

You let out a deep breath as you leaned into his touch.

"Okay. Thank you." You sighed with a small smile.

"Good. You know very well that tiring you out is my job." He said lowly with a glint in his eyes. You huffed and playfully hit his arm.

"Go check on the sprinkles."

"Yes, Ma'am."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You did as he said, you took a bath to ease the tension in your muscles that had been building up throughout the day.

Now, you were sitting at your vanity, adding some final touches to your make-up. The guest would arrive soon, and you were glad the excitement took over the anxiety.

Bruce walked into your shared bedroom, fixing his cuffs.

"Are you almost ready?" He asked, not looking at you, still fiddling with his suit. You responded with a small 'Mhm!' and walked over to him, brushing some wrinkles out of your gown. When he did look at you, he visibly stopped in his tracks.

You were wearing a green velvet gown with lace accents, and he was completely enarmoured. When his gaze trailed upwards, he caught sight of his mothers necklace sitting around your neck. If you weren't already married, he'd would've proposed right now.

"You look stunning." He breathed out, hie pupils dilated. You chuckled softly, brushing your hand over the lapel of his jacket.

"Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself." You teased, earning a small smirk from him. His hands settled in your waist. Bruce hastily pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

The air was knocked from your lungs as his lips moved so perfectly against yours. You melted into his touch but caught yourself before you'd do something that'd make you two very late.

"Alright," you breathed heavily, steadying your hands on his chest, "that's enough, Lover boy. We have a Ball to host."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

All the guests had arrived and Bruce stepped into the center of the room, beginning his welcoming speech.

"Welcome, Everyone, I'm very glad you could join us here today for the annual Wayne Yule Ball. This is a tradition that my parents started that I wish to keep on as long as I can."

"This year will be a little different. Courtesy of my lovely wife, Mrs. Wayne," he looked in your direction and reached out his hand for you to take with a gentle smile, which you did without hesitation,"there will be a gingerbread house contest. I see you've brought your little ones and I hope that this will be a pleasant and memorable evening for us all." He ended his speech with a soft smile.

"Feel free to take as much times as you desire. Everything you need is provided, so all you need now is your imagination and creativity." You spoke up.

"Your delicious creations will be judged and the winner gets a nice reward. I hope you have a lovely time and a Merry Christmas!"

There was a small round of applause before old and young scrambled towards the tables decked with gingerbread, sprinkles and icing, to begin their gingerbread builds. You participated too, you'd teamed up with Selina, who had been nursing a flute of champagne until now.

Bruce and Lucius decided to indulge as well, already planning out their engineered masterpiece.

"Let's show 'em our claws." Selina smiled slyly. The lights made her dark blue dress embroidered with sparkling stars stand out. She looked very good this evening.

And Bruce might've paid for that dress... unknowingly.

"You got it, kitty." You replied with a smirk.

You were going the classic route. It would be a house, but more of a whimsical cottage type. Vines if icing were woven around the gingerbread walls, blooming into blankets of Ivy. The roof would be decked in sweet snow and delicate sugar flowers.

Selina couldn't help but add a tiny cat hidden at the back of the house. The atmosphere was delightful, laughter and chatter whisked through the room accompanied by the tunes of Christmas songs.

The decorations that adorned the walls and ceilings of the Manor dipped the room in a warm glow. You decided to glance over at Bruce and Lucius, to see what they'd come up with. When your gaze met their creation the piping bag of icing slipped from your hands and your jaw slacked.

"They built the goddamn batmobile." You said in disbelief, making your partner perk up.

She scoffed and went back to, now aggressively, pushing small sugar decorations into the icing.

"Show offs." Selina grumbled.

Bruce noticed your staring and shot you a toothy grin.

"A sweet ride, don't you think?"

You groaned at his terrible joke and shook your head.

"Unbelievable." You muttered, going back to perfecting your little house.

The chattered had died down as the judging began. Everyone watched in anticipation as Alfred made his way through room, inspecting each Gingerbread sculpture carefully. He made some small comments here and there, mainly on the ones the children had made.

In the end, a little girl and her sister won- they'd built, or at least tried to, a castle. Alfred thought it was very charming, and it reminded him of home, so naturally, he picked them as winners. They were overjoyed, jumping around excitedly, gushing it about it to their parents.

The girls earned a round of applause, and an arm slipped around your waist.

"A shame we didn't win." Bruce sighed playfully.

"I can't believe you built the batmobile. I expected a lot, but not that." You laughed, the lights reflecting off of you perfectly. Or at least that's what Bruce thought.

"But it was fun, don't you think? Thank you, again, for agreeing." You said softly. Bruce smiled at you, and gentle squeezed at your side.

"Anything for you. I can't wait to see what you come up with next year." He kissed your cheek, pulling you closer as you watched the joy and holiday cheer fill the room.

He truly couldn't wait for next year, to deck the halls with you by his side.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

It didn't turn out as Christmas-y as I wanted it to, but I hope you enjoyed reading it nonetheless! <3

#bumblebeesfromvenus #FI'S CHRISTMAS MARKET ☆#bale!bruce x reader #bale!bruce wayne #bale!bruce wayne x reader #bale!batman x reader #christian bale #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader

305 notes · View notes