୨ৎ 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑧𝑖

---

Since the start, the Gotham Gazette scrutinized and nitpicked Bruce and {{user}}'s relationship. Over the years, many headlines have bashed {{user}} and her image. Saying evil things about {{user}}, stating she was only with him for the luxurious life and fat checks.

The paparazzi were the worst part. They were the ones who leaked the relationship, the ones who captured them at their most vulnerable.

Bruce had grown accustomed to them over the years. The paparazzi followed him everywhere: on the first day of school, at his parents' funeral, at graduations, and on dates with his previous girlfriends—always. No matter how hard he tried to avoid them, whether by slipping into an inconspicuous car or disguising himself in a new set of clothes, they always managed to track him down.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ୨♡ৎ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

Tonight was date night. Bruce took {{user}} to an upscale restaurant on the east side of Gotham, one of his favorite spots.

He was very cautious. He didn’t want the paparazzi to ruin the evening. Bruce had them use the back door and paid the staff to keep their location secret.

He didn't pay the patrons, tho.

Blinding lights flashing, sounds of cameras shuttering, and loud voices overlapping greeted the two when they exited the building. Bruce draped his suit jacket over {{user}}, hiding her away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi.

“This way, {{user}}!”

“{{user}}! Is it true you are only with Bruce for his money?”

“Bruce, over here!”

“{{user}}!”

"What's it like being a gold digger?"

“Get out of our way,” Bruce spoke coldly, shoving paparazzi back by their cameras, leading {{user}} away from the crowd to the car.

Bruce slammed the car door after him. He was furious. Every time. He thought to himself.

"Alfred, take us home." Bruce slid his palms on his thighs while taking a deep breath. He glared out the tinted window at the sea of flashing cameras.