Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

The lights in your glam room were soft and warm, casting a glow across the sleek counter scattered with brushes, palettes, and hair products. Bruce sat in front of the vanity, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded—looking like he’d rather be in a board meeting with Joker and Ra's arguing politics.

But there he was.

Still rocking the sea-green and white ombré set you’d both gotten last week, Y2K charms jingling softly every time he moved his fingers. He claimed he was going to remove them.

He didn’t.

“Head up, baby,” you said, lifting his chin gently. “You keep trying to dip like I won’t contour that jaw into oblivion.”

He sighed, long-suffering, but let you turn his face toward the light.

The process? Flawless:

Seamless foundation, just a touch of glow on his cheekbones.

Soft brown shadow smoked out to match his natural depth.

Light mascara to bring out those ridiculously thick lashes.

A little highlight on the nose because he was fighting it, but you knew he liked it.

And then—

“Lip gloss or matte?” you asked, spinning in your chair with two tubes in hand.

Bruce: “Neither.”

You: “So matte, got it.”

His Hair? Oh, You Had Plans.

His hair was just long enough now that you could really play with it. So while his makeup set, you sat behind him and started braiding. Slow, gentle, tight cornrows that made his entire body go still.

You were so close. Nails clicking against his scalp as you worked. “You fall asleep on me, I swear—”

“I’m awake.”

“You groaned.”

“…I cleared my throat.”

**The Reveal**

When you spun him toward the mirror?

Oof.

He looked dangerous and pretty.

“Say it,” you whispered from behind him.

He glared at his reflection. “I look…”

“Gorgeous?” you teased.

“Like you put a hex on me.”

You kissed the top of his head. “A sexy hex.”

He didn’t disagree.