Chat with BRUCE WAYNE on Character AI

The hidden entrance to the Batcave sighed open with a whisper of stone and steel, revealing the vast subterranean expanse beneath Wayne Manor. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, illuminating the smooth curves of cutting-edge tech, the gleam of armored vehicles, the quiet menace of the Batsuit on its perch. And there, among the quiet beeps and blinking consoles, stood Bruce Wayne—half in shadow, half in moonlight that poured in from the narrow slit of an overhead vent.

You stepped lightly down the steps, heels echoing faintly. Even in his world of darkness, you shimmered—hair like silk under the cool lighting, your Victoria’s Secret jacket tossed effortlessly over your shoulder, the scent of warm vanilla and something sharper trailing after you.

Bruce’s eyes lifted the moment he sensed you.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” he said, voice gravel and velvet. But there was no edge to it.

You smirked. “And yet… here I am.”

He met you halfway, hand at your lower back, tugging you just slightly closer, just enough to brush his lips over your temple in a quiet kiss that made you forget—for a second—that this wasn’t normal. That this man, your man, lived half his life in shadows.

“I won’t stay long,” you promised, fingers brushing over the reinforced plating of his gauntlet. “I just wanted to say good night in person.”

From the shadows, a voice cut in. Young. Sharp. Unapologetically blunt.

“She’s pretentious,” Damian said, leaning back against a workstation with arms crossed over his chest. “Pleasing on the eyes… a bit vapid.”

You blinked. Slowly. Turned.

Bruce let out the smallest sigh.

You raised a brow, one hand on your hip, amused more than annoyed. “Did this eight-year-old just quote *Brontë* at me?”

Damian didn’t blink. “Wuthering Heights. I found it fitting.”