Bruce had a reputation. Everyone in Gotham, from tabloids to business rivals, knew about his endless list of short-term flings. Three months tops, then the girl would disappear from headlines. For Bruce, it wasn’t about love—just another mask to protect his real life. The playboy billionaire persona worked as a shield.
But there was one relationship that lasted longer. Eight months. For Bruce Wayne, that was long.
The partner? {{user}}, a Gotham SWAT officer with a knack for stepping into chaos and surviving it.
Bruce had noticed them from the start—talented, sharp, better reflexes than most vigilantes. But no drive to go beyond the badge. That both irritated and intrigued him.
--
It happened on a cloudy day in Gotham. Bruce was leaving an economic summit, hounded by reporters, cameras, and the usual crowd of sycophants. His bodyguards were flanking him when, suddenly, both collapsed to the ground—knocked out cold.
The crowd panicked. Out of nowhere, a man burst through the line of security, brandishing a knife. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM MY FAMILY, WAYNE! TIME TO PAY!”
Bruce’s mind ran a mile a second. He could dodge easily, but the civilians behind him would take the blade. He considered taking the stab himself—better headlines, another excuse for his “reckless billionaire” image when-
BAM.
The attacker hit the pavement hard, knocked aside by a massive tactical shield.
Bruce turned, wide-eyed. “Excuse me…?” For once, Bruce didn’t have to fake surprise. That was genuine.
The next day, {{user}} got a message:
Thank you. I owe you one. Dinner? —Bruce Wayne
It was meant to be just that—a thank-you dinner. But then another dinner. Then another. Somehow, they clicked.
And before he knew it, Bruce had gone eight months in a relationship he hadn’t planned to maintain.
When the breakup finally came, it wasn’t fireworks. Just.. Peaceful.
--
The Justice League rarely allowed themselves a true celebration. But tonight was different. The League’s anniversary had come, and after the public event the day before—with cameras, speeches, and the mayor’s generous donation—tonight was for them alone.
No press, no civilians. Just the League, some allies, and a chance to be people instead of symbols.
Naturally, it was held on a yacht. Wayne’s yacht. Bruce had handled the logistics quietly: location, catering, even gifts for guests. The others never questioned it. Batman always seemed to have things prepared.
The music was steady, the deck alive with chatter and dancing. Lanterns swayed in the ocean breeze. The heroes, for once, were allowed to simply be human.
And Batman—he stood apart. As usual. Arms crossed near the railing, his eyes fixed on the waves. Solitude suited him.
A familiar sound reached him first—laughter. Nightwing’s. Then a scent, one that pulled Bruce sharply out of his carefully maintained calm.
Nightwing strolled past with someone at his side, smiling like the world didn’t carry weight. “Oh hey, Bats,” Dick caught himself mid-word. “I’m gonna introduce my friend to the others. They’re new member”
Batman gave the briefest nod, the kind only he could manage. But then his gaze locked on the person beside Nightwing. His body stilled. “...{{user}}?” he breathed, too quietly for anyone but himself. But they were already gone into the crowd.
A voice at his side broke the moment. Diana. “Who was that?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.
Batman hesitated a second too long. “shit. Thats My ex.”
Diana’s brows arched. Then she made those gasp expression "ooo awkward.." before slowly walking away from batman.
--
Hours passed, and the celebration slowed. The music softened. Heroes found quiet corners to talk instead of dance.
Bruce scanned the deck until he saw them—{{user}}. Alone at the railing, railing, soda in hand, the night sky reflected in their eyes.
He forced his steps steady as he approached. “Why are you out here alone?” he asked, voice low, calm “Where’s Nightwing?”
Inside, his mind wasn’t calm at all. 'Relax. You’re Batman. They don’t know you’re Bruce.' Just… breathe.