MRS. Wayne💍
Hey everyone! Long time no see🫣. I’m trying something new for once cause I’m so jealous of other ppl’s blog and their cutesy themes. I used canva for the pics but if you have recommendations (especially for like those sparkly gif separators) please put it in my ask! I beg of thee.🙏🏾 also, how do y’all add more text options to your post? Cause I see people with really small text when I be reading on mobile. Is that only a website option? Also also I’m thinking of making this a series. Not necessarily one with a plot per se, or at least not yet??? I guess just a bunch of scenarios that happen in one universe? Also the description I put in it was just some characters that didn’t have matching aesthetics so there was variety in how you or your oc may or may not look.
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Summary: Everyone knew Bruce Wayne was married. But to who? Yeah, no one knew that. All they have to go by are the slips the children and teens close to Waynes let out. Just who is Mrs. Wayne?
Wc: 2k
Warnings: Not proofread. Mention of character death. Mention of Jason’s death.
The wife of Bruce Wayne was expected to be shrouded with mystery, glamour, and elegance. Or at least that’s what the public was expecting her to be. Especially since she was never really seen in public. There was so much speculation on who she could be, who she is, and what she’s like. Nobody really knew anything about her, aside from the stuff Bruce’s, and assumingly her, adoptive children would let slip.
The first was Dick Grayson, both in adoption and obviously slippage. He was a fresh teen and already known for his laidback attitude and charming smile. So charming and charismatic it had many gossip mongers writing tabloids speculating whether or not this child Bruce Wayne adopted was really only an adopted child and not some secret love child.
He was Bruce’s plus one for yet another high society gala. The young teen had a large smile on his face as smile for camera while following his adoptive father. Cameras, flashing lights, and microphones all in his face.
“Richard! Richard! Over here! What’s it like being the son of Bruce Wayne and the mysterious woman who tamed him?”
This caught his attention as he stopped and chuckled, a boyish grin on his face as he finally looked directly at a camera. “Tamed? Oh no- Y/- I mean Mrs. Wayne is probably worse than him. Just nicer. Like wayyyy nicer!”
Bruce scoffed to hide his own chuckle and smile as he turned to look at the younger man who was falling behind to call out in a firm dad-like voice. “Dick.”
Dick glanced away from the paparazzi and tabloids to look at Bruce. And instead of feeling intimidated he just smiled wider and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, clearly gesturing to Bruce. “See what I mean?”
Then there was Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, Barbara Gordon. She was interning with her father, working behind the scenes for an upscale art gallery’s charity event CCTV security team, despite being a teen. Bruce Wayne was one of the primary sponsors, of course, his name stamped across every plaque, his presence commanding the attention of every camera, every whisper, every expensive glass of champagne. Barbara, already finished networking with the elites, was in the camera room, two other people with her, observing the security feed.
“Hey, kid, you’ve worked closely with the Wayne’s right? With him and your pops being acquaintances and all. What’s Mrs. Wayne like?” an older man asked, the only man in the room. “Like is charming and charismatic? Or intimidating and cool?”
Barbara froze mid-click of her mouse. Maybe she should’ve brushed it off, said she didn’t know, or that it wasn’t her business to tell. But since Dick had something before she assumed there was no harm in just being a little open.
“She’s..” Barbara glanced behind her to the door where her father had just stepped out. “She’s not what people think she is.”
“Meaning?”
“She’s…” she hesitated once more before a soft smile spread across her face, clearly remembering something. “The only person that can make Bruce Wayne stop what he’s doing or saying mid sentence with such little effort. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do that for anyone else, just her.”
It was innocent enough. Harmless, she thought. But what she didn’t see was the ways her co-workers’ expression shifted. By the next morning, headlines exploded across Gotham Gazette and The Daily Chronicle:
“WHO IS MRS. WAYNE? THE WOMAN WHO COMMANDS BRUCE WAYNE’S SILENCE.”
‘Even Mr. Wayne listens when she speaks,’ says insider Barbara Gordon.
Barbara hadn’t technically said that — but it didn’t matter.
Next was Jason Todd, and much like Dick he was a happy kid, only he didn’t care much for secrets. And all it took was what should’ve been just a simple parent teachers conference, for the world to know she was a black woman. Jason sat next to Bruce, slurping away at medium sized slushee, as the one of the teachers at Gotham Prep looked between the two.
“And where’s Mrs. Wayne if you don’t mind me asking? Shouldn’t she be here?” One of the teachers asked, unable to hide their confusion and disappointment.
“At home.” Bruce answers calmly, as if he was expecting these types of questions.
“But she should be here. This is a mandatory parent teacher conference. She had to be here as well.” Another said, clearly about to lose their patience over something so small.
“My mama says the only thing she gotta do is be black and die.” Jason said without even looking up as he moved the straw around in his slurpee, trying to break the ice down so he wasn’t only drinking the juice. The art and science teachers, a black woman and man respectively, both barely holding in their laughter at the familiar phrase. Bruce could only pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.
They didn’t even make it home before his phone was vibrating with tweets, emails, and text messages.
#MrsWayneIsBlack was trending in a matter of minutes across all forms of social media. The responses were all over the place some happy to know that a black woman was living her best life. Others less than happy to know that their prince of Gotham was married to a black woman. They didn’t even know who she was and yet she was getting the Meghan Markle treatment. The people hating on her probably only upset that she’s not what they thought she’d be. Claiming Bruce Wayne was either being blackmailed by her or marrying a charity case for PR purposes.
Jason had no idea what he started after Bruce got off the phone with his PR team and lawyers.
Jason only looked up from his book and slushee when Bruce’s phone went off for what felt like the hundredth time in under five minutes. “Uhh.. we in trouble or something?”
Bruce only exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his face straight. On one hand, he thought the situation was funny, but on the other, he could already picture the storm that is yet to come and it made him mad. “No Jay. Not we.”
“Oh.” Jason blinked. “So… you’re in trouble.”
That earned him a look, not angry, but whatever the look was, it did have a hint. The kind of look that said Bruce was already calculating damage control, and punishment. Jason sank back into his seat, slurping his drink a little quieter after that.
By the time Tim Drake came along, the world had already developed an obsession with you. Every few months, someone thought they’d cracked the code —publishing grainy, overexposed photos of a woman stepping out of a black town car, or a shadowed profile beside Bruce Wayne at some long-forgotten fundraiser. None of them were you, of course. But that didn’t make the fantasy any less alive, especially not for Gotham.
But after Jason’s death, everything changed, and Bruce stopped showing up to galas and events the way he used to. It got to the point that Wayne Enterprises began sending spokespeople in his place. The man who had once smiled for every camera had turned into a recluse.
And so the tabloids wrote their own narrative instead of allowing a father to grieve in peace.
They said grief had consumed him. That Mrs. Wayne had “retreated into mourning beside him.” Some suggested that her and Bruce were going through a messy divorce, unable to handle the grief, others that you had never existed to begin with, a convenient placeholder created to explain the holes in his glamorous image and lifestyle. And Tim’s sudden adoption was like damage control. Tim was smart, bright, and articulate. What he lacked in charisma like Dick and Jason he made up for in grace and etiquette. He wasn’t a heartthrob like Dick or a ray of sunshine like Jason, but Gotham loved him none the less. Soon the quiet young boy became Bruce’s ward and protégé, and unofficially his heir.
It was during a scholarship event, made to help children, teens, and young adults afford schooling and give grants to their schools as well, where his slip occurred. If it could even be considered a slip. Reporters were obviously curious, as was the rest of the world about this new boy in the Wayne’s lives. About how they were handling their loss. But mostly about the woman they still have yet to see officially.
“Mr. Drake,” one journalist began, “you’ve been seen accompanying Bruce Wayne quite a lot lately. Does Mrs. Wayne ever come to these events with you two? Or better yet does she even go outside? Is she real?”
Tim froze for a moment, not out of fear, but uncertainty. He was used to lying, and had no problem doing it to these vultures. But this topic was different, especially since Bruce told him the rule when it came to these type of invasive questions.
“No, she does not come to these events. And yes she’s real.” he said finally, his tone even and polite, but most importantly calm. With practiced precision. “She just doesn’t really like the spotlight. I think she prefers… quieter spaces.”
The reporter tilted their head. “So she really is still around? Are she and Mr. Wayne still married?”
Tim showed a strained smile, that careful, too-thoughtful type of uncomfortable smile of someone who hadn’t yet learned how to dodge invasive questions. “Of course. She’s the only one who can really get through to him.”
That should’ve been the end of it. But something in him told him he needed to be clear, decisive, enough to satisfy them.
“She keeps him grounded,” he continued, his voice softening as though speaking to himself more than anyone else. “After Jason- I mean, after… everything that happened, she’s been the reason he still gets up in the morning. They need each other now more than ever. The way I see it, who better to understand the loss of a child than someone who lost the same thing?”
At the mention of Jason, the young boy who was murdered, the silence that surrounded Tim became deafening.
The last one was Stephanie Brown. She was lighthearted, talkative, and too comfortable saying whatever came to mind, a habit that had already made her a favorite among the younger Wayne Foundation volunteers. But reminded the older volunteers of another. When she joined Tim for a youth outreach interview with Gotham Insider, she hadn’t planned to say anything worth printing. The conversation was supposed to focus on scholarship programs, mentorship, and Wayne Enterprises’ charity work. Simple. Clean. Safe.
Right?
Just when they thought they were just about done with interviews a person stood up. The interviewer, a woman notorious for steering small talk into scandal, leaned forward with a smile that was all teeth. “You’ve both spent plenty of time at Wayne Manor. Be honest, what’s it like living with Bruce Wayne? Being trusted to help with such important projects? And what about the ever-elusive Mrs. Wayne? Does she even exist?”
Tim froze mid-sip of his black tea, eyes darting toward the camera. He was about to redirect, but Stephanie had already laughed.
“Oh, she’s real, alright,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Trust me. You’d know if she wasn’t.”
The interviewer’s brows lifted. “Oh? So what does she look like? And what’s she like?”
Stephanie leaned back in her chair, smiling brightly. “Look wises. Think… I don’t know… maybe Mortician Addams, Betty Boop, and maybe Velma. All in one, and well, black. Personality wise…She’s like… you know that one mom friend who’s super nice, the one everyone loves and would die for, but will absolutely ruin your life if you mess with someone she loves? That’s her. Sweetest woman alive—unless you touch what’s hers.”
Tim coughed sharply beside her, muttering something under his breath that sounded like a warning, “Steph…”
But it was too late. The cameras were still running. By that evening, social media had descended into chaos.
“MRS. WAYNE: THE SWEETHEART WITH A SCARY SIDE.”
‘The nicest woman alive—unless you cross her,’ says Stephanie Brown.
When Bruce saw the headline, he didn’t laugh. He said nothing. Didn’t scold. Didn’t comment. Just folded the paper once, precisely, and set it down on the table beside him.
Then, quietly:
“Stephanie, you and Tim won’t be giving any more interviews for a while.”
Tim only sighed and slumped in his chair, placing his tea cup down while Stephanie pouted.
“Aww man…”
