bruce wayne x wife!reader ⸝⸝⸝ bruce is really, really in love w you <3 fluff, suggestive-ish (wc: 531)
bruce wayne has known you for a long time now. he’s memorized you in every light, every season, every quiet little state of being. still, sometimes, you hit him like something brand new.
one morning, you’re sitting at the kitchen island in one of his shirts, half awake, eating strawberries straight from the carton. bruce stops in the doorway.
you glance up eventually. “what?”
“you’ve been standing there forever.”
he walks over, bends down, and kisses your temple like that explains anything.
you watch him suspiciously as he pulls away to pour his coffee. “you’re being weird.”
the way he says it is so solemn that you nearly laugh. “you’re just now figuring that out?”
“no.” he looks at you again, softer this time. “but knowing and getting used to it are apparently two very different things.”
you have to look away before he catches your shy smile. which is ridiculous, really. you’re capable of facing gotham’s worst and keeping its best-kept secret, but one painfully sincere compliment from your husband is enough to crack your composure.
at galas, he’s somehow worse.
he’s already seen you get ready. he was the one who zipped up the dress while you fastened your earrings in the mirror. yet halfway through the evening, without fail, he looks up from an important conversation and finds you across the room.
you’re laughing at something he can’t hear, and his attention drifts further from the person in front of him with every second he watches. then your eyes meet his, and he doesn’t stand a chance.
his expression betrays him just enough for you to catch the exact moment he loses the thread of what he’s saying. you give him a second to recover, but he never quite does. taking pity on him, you cross the floor to put him out of his misery.
when you reach him, you adjust his tie. “close your mouth, handsome.”
“it was a little,” you correct, entirely too pleased with yourself.
he lets it go, too distracted by your perfume and how close you’re standing to remember whatever excuse he was about to give anyway.
but it’s in bed, with all of his attention fixed on you, that you undo him completely.
you’re tangled together, everything warm and unhurried, when bruce stops mid-breath, his hands going still against your skin.
you open your eyes. “what’s wrong?”
he doesn’t answer. instead, his thumb finds your jaw, tracing it slowly, and the question dies between you. your heart does something stupid because he’s forgotten to be careful with his face. he’s looking at you like he still can’t believe the world made someone like you and then, for reasons he may never understand, let him keep you.
his thumb lingers at the curve of your face before he leans down and presses his mouth to the place where your neck meets your shoulder. you breathe his name into the dark and pull him closer.
afterward, he stays there, his forehead resting against yours while you both catch your breath. when his eyes open again, he’s still looking at you with that same wonder.
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