Content: Established relationship, domesticity, a touch of angst, a conversation between the reader and Bruce where guilt is mentioned. References to choices, but a happy ending without resolution.
Summary: A late night conversation after patrol leads you and Bruce to confront guilt, choice, and the quiet reality of loving someone who lives a double life finding comfort not in answers, but in each other.
Warning: Inspired by The mask of the phantasm. I don’t know if this is out of character, but I had this in my head and couldn’t get it out. Everyone is a bit younger here and no one is quite as emotionally closed off. In this timeline, Bruce is between 27 and 30 years old. Dick has already been adopted and is part of the daily routine at the manor. No one is overly traumatized… yet. At this point, this is already a series. You can read them separately without any problems.
English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t hesitate to let me know.
This night you had stayed awake, waiting for your husband to return from patrol. You were reading a book by the window when the bedroom door opened and he began unfastening his suit. He pressed a kiss to your forehead in greeting, and the familiarity warmed your chest.
You closed the book, setting it aside without losing the page, and took the opportunity to scan his body for new injuries. You narrowed your eyes when you found none, but the stiffness in his shoulders didn’t convince you completely.
Moonlight filtered through the window, casting shadows across Bruce’s body with every movement. Each gesture was controlled and measured, as if the patrol hadn’t truly ended yet. You stared at him while your mind raced.
—Have you ever considered…—you asked suddenly—hanging up the cape?
You hesitated as soon as you realized what you had said, your body freezing. You watched as your husband’s gaze slowly lifted to meet yours, while a gust of air slipped in through the window and loose strands of your hair fluttered.
The question had burst into your mind without warning, but you had never truly meant to voice it. Bruce hadn’t seen it coming either, so you weren’t expecting an honest answer.
—Forget it, I shouldn’t have…
—Yes. —he interrupted.
The room felt smaller after his admission.
The air rushed out of your lungs as you leaned against the windowsill. Your expression must have been a poem, because your husband spoke again.
—When I met you, I wanted to.
You bit the inside of your cheek and crossed your arms—not as a sign of rejection, but as protection against the conversation you were about to have. You didn’t bother turning on the lights; it didn’t feel right with the trace of darkness still clinging to your husband.
—I wouldn’t…—you sighed—. I would never ask that of you.
—I know. I wanted to keep the cape because I was happy.
The way he spoke in the past tense caught your attention. You frowned and touched the wedding band around your ring finger.
—Aren’t you anymore?
There was a moment of silence that rang in your ears.
—With you, I am —he finally answered, removing the mask—. You found out I was Batman and… you never made me feel like I had to choose.
Your throat felt dry. Your eyes began to sting. You shifted your weight on the windowsill and let the gentle breeze brush against your cheeks.
—I couldn’t make you choose when I’m not entirely sure you’d choose me —you replied softly.
Bruce’s jaw tightened and he took a step back, as if you had just slapped him. Instantly, you regretted exposing your greatest fear within your marriage.
—I’m sorry… I—
—I changed my reason —he explained, sitting on the edge of the bed—. You said it yourself. I’m keeping my promise, but now I have something to protect.
You lowered your gaze, clearing your throat, and adjusted the nonexistent loose thread on your robe’s knot—just to have something to do.
—What will happen in twenty years, Bruce? —you asked, your voice uncertain—. I’m not reproaching you for anything, I just… want to know. Do you plan to keep fighting even when you can’t move the way you do now?
There was another silence.
—I don’t know —he admitted, sighing this time—. I fight every night so that I won’t have to keep doing this in twenty years.
You nodded, not pressing further. But he continued.
—Gotham needs Batman —his fist clenched—. And I… I need you.
He stood and walked toward you, cupping your cheeks with his rough hands and resting his forehead against yours.
—I understand, Bruce. I really do. But it’s important that you understand you can have both —you wrinkled his suit in desperation—. You can fight at night and be certain that I’ll be waiting for you. Do you know that?
—I do —he answered heavily—. But sometimes I wonder… what it would be like to be just Bruce Wayne and his wife.
—You’re not failing them, Bruce —you said firmly—. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t want you to punish yourself for wanting something. You’re allowed to want things for yourself. No one would judge you.
—Do you remember when I asked you to marry me? —he asked suddenly.
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You weren’t sure it could even be considered a romantic proposal. That night, you had cooked for the both of you since Alfred wasn’t at the manor. When you placed the plate in front of Bruce, he pulled out a velvet box, took your ring finger, slipped the ring on, and said, “marry me.”
And that had been enough for you. So you said yes.
—I remember —you replied, returning to the present.
—I knew I was being selfish asking you for something like that when you didn’t know the whole truth. But I really wanted… I wanted you by my side.
—I’ve never blamed you for not telling me.
—That’s what made it hurt more —he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours again.
—You haven’t disappointed anyone, if that’s your point.
—That night —he whispered—. I visited my parents. In that moment… I wished… I truly wished someone else would have to do this, just for once.
—Bruce… —your gaze softened.
—It wasn’t something I allowed myself to consider back then —he admitted, tightening his grip on your hands.
You swallowed hard under the weight of his words.
—I’m happy with you, Bruce. Even with your choices —you assured him.
—Sometimes… I wish neither of us had to carry that burden.
You relaxed in his hold.
—I can bear it. I’m aware of what you chose, and I accept it. The only thing that matters is that you’re with me.
The look he gave you was intense and deep, but he didn’t speak.
—I know what this symbol means to you —you placed a hand on his chest—. The only thing I’ve ever asked of you regarding Batman is that you come back alive. Not even without bruises or injuries. Just alive.
—I’d feel better if your tone were more demanding —he whispered, shaking his head.
You smiled faintly.
—I won’t be. When we got married, I knew exactly what I was getting into.
The corners of his lips curved as he stepped back and sat beside you on the windowsill in silence. You stayed like that for several minutes, keeping each other company in the calm, listening to distant sirens.
—Why did you ask?
He turned toward you but didn’t move closer, the only part of your bodies touching was your pinky fingers resting against the surface. You gently stroked his.
—You’re not the only one who sometimes wishes to be just herself and her husband—you admitted.
Understanding washed over him. There was no hesitation in his movements as he pulled you into his arms and engulfed you in an embrace. You didn’t say anything, letting him hold you.
It was probably a slightly comical scene for anyone who might have seen it—Bruce still wearing half of his suit, and you in the silk robe you usually wore over your pajamas. You stayed like that for a moment, trying to offer each other calm.
He slid his hands along your back in a soothing gesture, and you relaxed, resting your head against his chest. He did the same, resting his chin atop your hair.
—We can go anywhere tonight. Just us.
It didn’t solve anything, but for once, you decided to leave the worries behind for the night—running away for a few hours.
You raised an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see it.
—Are you willing to sacrifice your sleep? —you laughed—. What about the Cayman Islands?
You lifted your head and saw him frown.
—Why would you want to go to the beach in the middle of the night? —he asked, confused.
You narrowed your eyes for the second time in less than an hour.
—You have a private jet. What’s the problem?
He looked at you as if you had just grown another head.
—Nothing, I guess? —he muttered resignedly—. The Cayman Islands, then.
You smiled and pressed another kiss to his chest.
—I’m kidding. You need to sleep. You have a meeting with investors tomorrow for your new project.
—It doesn’t matter.
You pulled away and looked at him, baffled.
—You have to sleep, and we can’t leave Dick—
—I’ll sleep on the round trip flight. Alfred will stay with Dick for a few hours.
—You’re insane. Let’s go to bed.
—…the private jet —he hurried to finish removing the suit—. We can leave in an hour and be back before dawn.
—Bruce, I was joking.
—I wasn’t.
And so, an hour later, the two of you were boarding the private jet—you laughing at the situation, and him with the corners of his lips curved.
—Hurry up, we have to be back before Dick wakes up so we can take him to school
He truly smiled this time, one of those he rarely showed, and quickly followed you up the stairs.
—Yes, ma’am.
Well, there isn’t really a sense that the conflict has been resolved. I think it’s something that would be constant in the marriage, because that’s natural given Bruce’s double life. It doesn’t mean they love each other any less. I also don’t know how long a flight to the Cayman Islands actually takes, but that’s what fiction is for 😂
Either way, I’m sorry if this is trash. I’ve been feeling nostalgic these past few days. If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! ❤️ I truly appreciate it, you have a piece of my heart.
Content: Established relationship, fluff, Christmas, domesticity, Dick appearance, Alfred mention, light suggestive tension but non-explicit.
Summary: Christmas at the manor feels different this year with Dick at home. The number of gifts is excessive—both from you to him and from Bruce to you. Once you’re finally alone, the warmth between you turns physical.
Warning: In this timeline, Bruce is between 27 and 30 years old. Dick has already been adopted and is part of the daily routine at the manor. No one is overly traumatized… yet. At this point, this is already a series. You can read them separately without any problems.
English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t hesitate to let me know.
You loved the holiday season. It was part of your charm to decorate the manor with colorful lights, red and gold ribbons, a large tree at the center of the room, and mistletoe that had stolen more than a few smiles from Bruce.
This Christmas, however, was different. It was the first one with Dick at home, and that alone had made the number of gifts beneath the tree considerable.
In fact… maybe you had gone a little overboard. Your husband had arrived home the night before, after a patrol, and found you kneeling on the floor, arranging the presents with great care. Your cheeks flushed when his reaction was to raise both eyebrows.
Yes.
If Bruce Wayne was surprised by the amount, then you had definitely overdone it.
You had no real defense. You simply lifted your hands in surrender, and the corners of his lips curved upward.
—Do you need help? —he asked, without a trace of mockery.
Your heart warmed, and your shoulders finally relaxed.
—Go rest, sweetheart
You saw the struggle in his eyes—between insisting and doing what you asked. The constant pull between desire and duty. Your expression softened.
—Go rest. I’ll be there in a moment —you repeated.
He nodded, and as he passed you, he bent down to press a kiss to the crown of your head before leaving.
Hours later, you had helped Alfred prepare dinner, and before midnight, everyone was satisfied. Dick smiled every time his name was called, and the torn wrapping paper scattered in uneven pieces around the room made you laugh.
Your reward for every little detail you’d done was a tight hug and a loud kiss on the cheek from your son.
—I made something for you —he said casually.
You hadn’t expected him to have something for you as well. He handed you a poorly wrapped bundle, and it was your turn to pull him into a hug when you saw a photograph of the two of you, framed in something he had made himself. He sat back down beside you, yawning not long after. Ten minutes after that, he decided he was tired enough to go to bed, leaving you and Bruce alone on the couch. Alfred had disappeared a while earlier, excusing himself by saying he had a long day ahead.
You looked at your husband and sighed, moving closer to him and settling into your usual position—at Bruce’s side, legs tucked beneath you, his arm around your shoulders. Minutes passed. Or hours. Who could say. All you knew was that you were there, with him. Bruce was alive and safe. With you. Without his suit or cape.
Your head rested against his chest when you felt him shift beside you.
—What is it? —you asked, lifting your gaze.
—I forgot to give you something
You raised an eyebrow and straightened as he reached into the pocket of his trousers.
—You’ve already given me enough, Bruce
He had bought you a car. You’d found it parked in front of the manor before dinner.
A damn Rolls Royce.
You’d felt a little embarrassed when you told him what you were giving him in return—a ring with both your names engraved on the inside, designed so he could wear it beneath the suit. Courtesy of Lucius.
And of course, you’d been indignant. Weeks earlier, you’d agreed neither of you would spend more than a single zero on anything for the other. You reminded him of that, and his only response had been that he’d taken so many blows to the head he must’ve mixed up the numbers.
—Let me give you this —he said.
Your eyes followed the movement of his hands as he produced a velvet box.
—Bruce —you warned.
He held your gaze in silence.
He opened the box and revealed the most beautiful pair of earrings you had ever seen. Delicate and short. Exactly the kind you liked. Exactly the kind Bruce knew you preferred for galas.
They were stunning.
And expensive—you could tell from the intricate details of the design, the stones set one by one in spirals and precise patterns.
—You’re joking
—I never do
—I can’t accept them, Bruce —you said, shaking your head as you met his eyes.
—You can’t refuse a gift
—It’s too much
He frowned.
—It’s not
You shook your head again—. I just… —you hesitated, unsure—. First the car, and now these.
—I don’t need you to give me anything like this —he replied, understanding what you meant.
And you knew it was true. He already had everything. A costly watch or an extravagant suit meant nothing to him. But still…
—I only gave you a ring —you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek.
—One I can wear all the time —he reminded you.
You sighed.
You looked away for a moment, but one of his hands gently cupped your cheek, guiding you back to him.
—Accept them —he asked softly.
So softly it caught your attention—the tenderness in his eyes so rare you could count the times you’d seen it on one hand. It almost convinced you.
—Please —he whispered.
You gave in.
You nodded, and Bruce didn’t hesitate to lift his hands to your ears, carefully replacing the earrings you were wearing with the ones he’d bought.
Neither of you looked away as you let him work. Nor did the longer-than-usual pause at each earlobe go unnoticed—his fingertips tracing small circles. Without realizing it, your lips parted.
Of course Bruce noticed. He finished fastening the right earring, and one of his fingers slid lightly—like a feather—along your neck, down to your collarbone.
A shiver ran through you, but you didn’t stop him. His hands rose again, cupping your face as he leaned in, barely brushing against you.
By then, you felt dizzy, your eyes half-lidded, and your husband’s expression mirrored your own. You tried to close the distance between your lips, but he pulled away, teasing. A flicker of irritation made you frown. His lips curved as he brushed his nose against yours.
—Don’t play —you murmured, annoyed.
In response, his forehead rested against yours. You shared a heavy breath before his hands slid to your waist, lifting you effortlessly without putting any distance between you. You landed in his lap, feeling his hands slip beneath your blouse, around your back.
—Better? —he asked quietly.
You didn’t answer. His lips finally found yours, kissing you with hunger, as if it had been years, and your breath faltered. You would never tire of this—of him, of the life you shared.
You pulled back for a second to breathe, and he followed. You smiled faintly and threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make his eyes close.
—I suppose this counts too —you murmured.
Bruce answered by trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, while your fingers slowly moved toward the buckle of his belt.
He stopped you, catching your hands mid-motion. You opened your eyes, worried—until you realized he was listening, making sure everyone else was asleep. For a moment, you’d forgotten Dick could come downstairs at any second, and you’d rather spare him a few years of trauma.
—Upstairs —you suggested, meaning your shared bedroom.
He nodded, and you relaxed when he scooped you up without breaking the kiss, somehow managing not to trip on a single step. When he laid you down on the mattress and gave you one last, impossibly soft look, you knew you were lost. It always surprised you how, on special occasions, he let his vulnerability show—setting aside the weight of responsibility, even if only for a while. In moments like this, he didn’t even need to touch you. Simply showing you that part of himself was enough to melt you.
That was your last clear thought before Bruce settled his body over yours and took possession of every shred of your common sense.
Note: Better late than never HAHAHA. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year if you made it this far! Sorry if this isn’t great 😔 I got an eight-hour job and it’s been very, very rough. You have a piece of my heart 🫶
Content: established relationship, domestic content, Dick being adorable, mention of a gala, Selina’s appearance, soft jealousy, tension between Bruce/Reader/Selina without being overly dramatic, and everything gets resolved in the end.
Summary: The Wayne Foundation gala turns chaotic when Selina Kyle unexpectedly shows up and a flicker of jealousy you didn’t expect to feel, the night becomes more complicated than planned. But in the end, tension fades, truths are reaffirmed, and your established life with Bruce settles back into something steady and undeniably yours.
Warning: In this timeline, Bruce is between 27 and 30 years old. Dick has already been adopted and is part of the daily routine at the manor. No one is overly traumatized… yet. At this point, this is already a series. You can read part one, You Never Have To Ask, and the second one, which is simply domesticity, After the Night. You can read them separately without any problems. And just to clarify Selina is not a villain here.
English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t hesitate to let me know.
Very much against the speech you had memorized and recited to Bruce about hating galas—maybe deep down, very deep down… you didn’t dislike them quite as much as you claimed.
It was probably more about having gotten dragged into organizing the event than actually enjoying being surrounded by disgustingly rich people trying to atone for their sins through the Wayne Foundation.
Not that you complained. Their need to flaunt the absurd amount of money they possessed funded a good portion of your husband’s project.
Your life over the past month had basically been reduced to calls here, meetings there, and food tastings on the other side of the city. You’d attended the last ones with Dick, who would never pass up a chance at free food.
Feeding him was like trying to fill a bottomless pit.
Still, despite all the advance preparation, you were a little nervous about tonight.
Camera flashes sparkled everywhere, blinding you. It had become part of your routine to see green and purple spots until your vision returned to normal.
Like now, as a camera pointed directly at you. You were holding onto Bruce’s arm—impeccable and imposing in his black suit and white shirt, hair perfectly styled, bow tie in place.
There were many versions of him you loved, but seeing him like this probably ranked somewhere in your top three. You lost your breath every time Bruce’s mere presence radiated power and confidence. It was intimidating—but not in a bad way. At least not for you.
The way you blinked until your vision stabilized was almost funny, as you were still getting used to all this attention. You were polite and kind with everyone, but always with a hint of distrust. You never knew what these people might say about you—if your hair was out of place, or if the color of your dress matched the napkins a little too well.
You guessed Bruce had sensed your thoughts because he brought you back to the present, sliding a hand down your back while holding a champagne flute in the other. You stood in a circle, surrounded by his partners making small talk about business.
—Everything alright? —Bruce asked quietly, bending down until he was close to your neck.
You almost shivered, and of course he noticed. The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to curl.
—I’m cold —you excused yourself quickly.
Your husband raised an eyebrow.
—You’re wearing a coat.
You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the spark of amusement in his gaze.
—I could still be colder, you know? My body produces less heat than yours.
—Oh, really? —he gave you a small smile, brief and quickly hidden again—. You can always come a little closer.
You held back a smile and leaned in slowly, ending up closer to his mouth. Now it was your turn to raise a brow.
—So you’re playing tonight, Bruce? —you murmured teasingly, low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.
—Always —he replied simply before taking another sip of champagne and sliding his hand to your waist, resuming his conversation with one of the men.
You shook your head in amusement, and your attention shifted to Dick, who was stalking a waiter. You smiled again. Honestly, you hadn’t done anything but smile whenever you looked at him. He had surprised you this morning by asking the color of your dress, and you had nearly burst into tears when he later appeared with a bow tie in the exact same shade of blue.
You never imagined a gesture like that would move you so much. Until today.
So wrapped up in that happiness, you didn’t even notice Bruce’s body tensing against yours until you turned to say something to him. You saw his clenched jaw, and a bad feeling shot through your chest. You frowned, alarmed by his sudden change in demeanor while he stared fixedly at a point in the crowd to your right.
Discreetly, you touched the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention. His eyes went straight to you.
—What’s wrong? —you asked, worried.
He didn’t have time to respond before a stunning woman, walking away from that small commotion and approaching with light, confident steps, joined the circle. Tall, slender, beautiful. Almost feline in her presence and so sensual you briefly wondered if she was real.
All eyes immediately turned to her, including yours.
In response, your husband gave your joined hands a gentle squeeze, trying to reassure you.
—Selina —Bruce greeted beside you, polite.
But you knew him better. You heard the sharpness beneath it—more like a warning.
—Bruce —she replied, almost purring.
Your skin prickled.
—Gentlemen. —she smiled—. A pleasure to meet you.
She was beautiful.
Truly beautiful—short hair, long neck. The light purple gown she wore fit her like a glove and hugged her curves perfectly.
You had never seen a woman quite like her.
Suddenly, your husband’s voice cut through your thoughts.
—Excuse us, —he said to the others—. Could you give us a moment, please?”
There was no room for debate in his tone. He was demanding they leave, and they simply obeyed.
Even so, you didn’t move, and he didn’t let go of you either, trapping you in a tension you weren’t entirely sure how to navigate.
Once the others stepped away, Selina spoke again.
—My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.
Bruce studied her, and beneath his expression, you caught a flicker of familiarity.
—Did you steal one? —he asked, tilting his head.
—Can you prove it? —she replied with a smile that nearly made your cheeks heat.
Bruce narrowed his eyes at her.
They definitely knew each other.
And you didn’t know that.
—Who is she? —Selina asked, her eyes shifting to you but clearly expecting Bruce to answer.
That made your blood boil. You could be shy about certain things—you could feel shy about Bruce’s money, or about asking Alfred to make you something to eat. But you had never stopped being proud, and maybe you never would. It was one of your flaws, especially when you sensed a second intention.
—His wife —you replied, back straight as you offered your hand.
Selina looked you over from head to toe, her expression shifting slightly before she finally took your hand. She also seemed to interpret the gesture as an invitation to move closer, because she stepped forward until she was only inches away.
—So you’re the reason Bruce has been disappearing at night lately.
Oh.
She knew Batman’s identity.
Of course she did.
Beside you, your husband tensed again.
—Selina —he warned.
Her attention snapped back to him, stepping away from you and invading Bruce’s space in a way that nearly made your jaw drop. The next blow to your stomach came when she lifted her hands to his neck to fix the nonexistent twist in his bow tie.
You thanked the heavens he reacted, because if he hadn’t, the only thug he’d have to deal with tonight wouldn’t be in the streets of Gotham—it would be once you stepped foot inside the manor.
—No. —his voice was firm and quiet, avoiding a scene. He caught her hands swiftly, moved them away from his shirt, and placed them back at her sides.
Were you angry? Maybe a little. Which is why you chose a casual tone for your next words.
—I sent out the invitations —you clarified—. You didn’t get one because I didn’t see your name on the list.
Selina looked at you again and smiled. But in a way that only made your thoughts more tangled.
—You’re full of surprises —she teased toward Bruce—. I like her. Very good choice.
You frowned.
—Do you need something? —your husband asked sharply, ignoring her comments entirely.
—The usual —Selina said lightly, sighing dramatically—. You don’t mind, do you? You won’t even notice.
She winked at you, and you were certain the confusion was written all over your face. At this point, your thoughts were so twisted you didn’t even know what question you would ask first. She didn’t even wait for Bruce’s answer—she simply turned and blended back into the crowd.
It took you a moment to react.
—Are you going to explain what just happened? you asked, your voice sounding strange even to you.
—You want me to do it right here?
—You can start whenever you want.
Bruce shook his head, and finally, his shoulders relaxed.
—She knows who I am. We had history, but it’s in the past.
You thought for a moment.
—So she knows you in that… facet.
It was more of a statement than a question, but Bruce understood exactly what you meant. You could even see your words hit him somehow, because he placed a hand on your arm, gently, and gave you one of those looks loaded with meaning.
—I’m married to you —he murmured slowly, quietly.
And with those simple words and that sincere look, you decided to stop torturing him for now. You’d talk more once you got home, where there weren’t so many eyes and ears around.
Around the room, you noticed people starting to move again, and a few approaching your circle.
—Later. —you agreed, taking his hand again and returning to your polite expression for the group. The conversation resumed, and you felt another gentle squeeze of your joined hands.
—Don’t let her make you doubt. You know where I am —he said firmly.
Your posture relaxed slightly, and you drew a deep breath.
He never lied to you. The only obstacle between you two had always been stubbornness, but he never hid the truth. A gut feeling told you he wasn’t going to start now.
And you trusted him.
You’d talk more later.
Note: If you made it all the way here, I promise you’re in my heart ❤️ Thank you so much for every like and reblog, they truly mean a lot to me.
Content: established relationship, domestic content (because I love it), brief mention of Dick and Alfred. Initial angst, but everything gets resolved quickly.
Summary: After an especially rough patrol, Bruce returns to the manor and finds Reader waiting for him. Both of them are stubborn, but they try to find a middle ground.
Warning: In this timeline, Bruce is between 27 and 30 years old. Dick has already been adopted and is part of the daily routine at the manor. No one is overly traumatized… yet. It could work perfectly as a second part of You Never Have To Ask. I might turn it into a series. Anyway, it can be read on its own.
Words: +1k
Remember English isn’t my first language, so if there’s any mistake, feel free to tell me!
For some reason, you were restless tonight. You had a feeling.
A bad feeling that ran from your spine all the way down to your toes.
It was two in the morning, and you were pacing back and forth in the mansion’s living room, trying to keep yourself busy. You’d finished the week’s work ahead of time, tidied up Bruce’s study, and made some tea for Dick, who, tonight, was home.
And still, you couldn’t shake off the tightness in your chest. Your mind kept drifting back to your husband out on the streets, fighting crime and trying to make Gotham a better place. But you were very worried.
—You should try to rest —Alfred’s voice startled you—. I’m certain Master Wayne is perfectly fine.
His words echoed in your mind without truly convincing you. Absentmindedly, you tugged at the hem of your pajamas, an old T-shirt and pants of Bruce’s. Maybe it was silly, but on nights like this, it made you feel like he was a little closer.
—Something’s not right, Alfred. —you murmured under your breath.
And of course, he understood. His expression didn’t change, but his voice softened when he saw how distressed you were.
—The life of a vigilante is a harsh one —he said after a pause—. He knows how to take care of himself. He is fully capable.
You nodded, though not very convincingly.
—I know, Alfred. But he’s still my husband.
But he knew you. He knew you were almost as stubborn as Bruce and that you wouldn’t back down, so he simply offered you a cup of coffee, something you gratefully accepted.
More than an hour later, as you chewed on your nails, you heard heavy footsteps coming slowly down the stairs.
Your heart sped up. You jumped off the couch and walked toward the sound, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Your breathing finally steadied once you saw Bruce safe and sound.
Except for his face.
You winced.
—Did you fight a cat? —you asked without thinking.
It was common for him to come home with a cut here or a bruise there, his body practically a map of injuries, so seeing red lines across his face wasn’t unusual, but it never failed to shock you.
—Very funny. —he grumbled.
He looked back at you, exhausted, as he removed the mask and sank onto the couch, such a rare display of vulnerability that you were afraid he’d shut down again if you breathed too loudly.
You stepped closer, standing between his legs as you gently took his face in your hands and tilted it side to side, checking the damage.
—Well… —you sighed. You’ve seen better days.
The corners of his lips curved slightly, almost smiling, but he didn’t answer. You could tell he was so drained that the only thing keeping him awake was sheer willpower.
—You’re awake —he said suddenly, frowning.
Ah, there it was.
—I couldn’t sleep —you replied simply, without admitting that tonight you’d been convinced he wouldn’t make it back to the mansion.
Thank God you were wrong.
You slipped away to the bathroom, where you always kept a first-aid kit for nights like this, and quickly returned to your spot in front of him.
—I can do it myself. —he muttered, trying to reach for the kit.
—Let me do it.
—I don’t need help.
—Your face says otherwise. —you shot back without flinching.
He was always a little stubborn about accepting help. Even when you tended to him with all the love in the world, he remained the same. You never got angry, you just insisted until he gave in.
Just like now. And faced with your stubbornness, he decided not to argue further. He simply rested his hands on your hips while you worked on his face, cleaning, disinfecting, and patching him up.
When you finished, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
—Thank you —he sighed.
—Anytime, sweetheart —you said as you cupped the less-bruised side of his cheek—. Hang up the suit. I’ll warm your dinner.
Of course, he wasn’t going to accept that without arguing, and when he was just about to speak, you cut him off.
—Don’t.
You didn’t wait for a reply as you walked toward the kitchen and got to work. You paused for a moment, ready to scold him again, but relaxed when the minutes passed and everything was silent. When he finally returned, he was in a better mood. His hair was damp, and he wore the clean pajamas you’d left in the room.
—Dick? —he asked, sitting at one of the stools by the counter.
—Asleep. —you said as you set the plate in front of him with ease—. Ever since I’ve been on vacation, I became his personal nightmare. He has class tomorrow, so I made him go to bed early.
He gave a faint smile.
You didn’t wait for an invitation, you sat in the empty chair beside him to keep him company.
—I cleaned your study —you said casually.
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
—Careful, or Alfred will think you’re trying to take his job.
—Would you hire me?
—Absolutely not.
His dry reply made you smile, and you nudged him lightly with your shoulder.
—I was worried. —you admitted—. False alarm, I guess.
Your husband’s expression softened. He inched his hand closer to yours, just enough to comfort you.
—I’m fine.
—I know. It was just irrational worry. Alfred said you were fine. I should’ve believed him.
—He’ll forgive you —he said without much care.
He finished eating while listening to you talk about Dick, chiming in here and there. He was fighting the urge to sleep, you could tell by the way his shoulders sagged, and by almost four in the morning, you decided it was time to go to bed.
—Come on, big guy, bedtime. —you said as you stood up and took his empty plate to the sink.
He shook his head.
—I should go train.
Now it was your turn to frown—. You’re going to sleep, even if you try bribing me like Dick and I have to drag you there myself.
You hadn’t noticed he’d gotten up, and just as you turned the faucet on, you felt his hands slide over yours, stopping you. You looked at him, confused.
He looked right back.
—All right. Let’s go to bed then —he said quietly.
Over time, you’d learned his ways of showing worry and affection. You never tried to change him, you’d learned how to read him, and that was enough for you. He was giving in and because of that, you did too. You nodded and let him lead the way.
You both slipped into bed in silence, trying not to wake Dick, and once you were settled under the blankets, he pulled you against his chest and kissed the top of your head.
—Thank you. —he whispered again, his breathing growing slower.
You knew what he meant.
—Don’t get used to it —you murmured with a smile, knowing that you would do it thousands of times —. Sleep, Bruce.
You heard a sound between a sigh and a laugh, and you knew he was probably already half-asleep. That was your last thought before sleep finally took you as well. Tomorrow, you’d figure out how to apologize to Alfred.
Note: thank you so much for reading this far ❤️ I also want to thank you for the likes and reblogs on the previous post — I love you all very much. I don’t know if this is actually any good; it was sitting in my drafts and I’m barely surviving finals, but I didn’t want to stop posting.
U ARE SOOOO GOOD AT WRITING I LOVE UR FICS THE FACT U HAVE WRITTEN TWO IVE READ THEM BOTH ON SEPARATE OCCASIONS AS THEY POPPWD UP AND BOTH TIMES I HAVE GONE ON TO UR ACCOUNT WANTING TO READ MORE TO THEN BE LIKE WTF DO U MEAN THIS IS THE SECOND PUBLISH FIC U ARE SOOOOOO GOOD
Hi honey! HAHAHA thank you so much!!! 🫂 I love the enthusiasm!!! I’ll try to post more often now that I’ll have more free time. I really appreciate this and it makes my day ❤️
Content: Reader works at Wayne Enterprises, established relationship, slightly suggestive ending (nothing explicit), domestic content, mention of Bruce’s millions, brief mention of Dick and Alfred.
Summary: Reader feels uncomfortable using Bruce’s money to buy things for herself—until she sees a pair of shoes that makes her think… maybe she could ask him this once.
Warning: In this timeline, Bruce is between 27 and 30 years old. Dick has already been adopted and is part of the daily routine at the manor. No one is overly traumatized… yet.
Words: +1k
English isn’t my first language, so if there’s any mistake, feel free to let me know.
You had walked into the store with absolutely no intention of buying anything. You’d just been strolling down the sidewalk, saw the tall windows and the store’s look, and decided to come in and snoop around. Luxury seemingly trapped in time: light walls, strong columns, and timeless decor.
The saleswoman spoke to you cheerfully, giving you details about every purse, piece of clothing, or pair of shoes you looked at for more than five seconds—so enthusiastically, in fact, that you actually felt a little bad wasting her time when you weren’t planning on spending any money.
You had a full wardrobe at home, neatly tailored to your tastes, which of course had been courtesy of Bruce. You never quite got used to his money, sometimes it even gave you a headache when you saw the outrageous amounts he spent on suits, cars, watches, technology, etc. You understood, really, it was the lifestyle he was accustomed to—unlike you.
You still mentally calculated prices and wages out of sheer habit.
But everything was absurdly expensive, and he barely blinked, as if it were a quiet morning buying bread, not the gross domestic value of a small country.
Even so, what truly made your jaw drop, to the point of turning it into a grimace, was the way he could make hundreds of those many-zero purchases and it wouldn’t even show in his bank account. Not a dent.
Your eyes lit up when the saleswoman approached with a gorgeous pair of shoes. Black, elegant, high.
—They’re a limited edition. The last pair. —she said.
And of course they were your size, so you couldn’t resist trying them on. As you buckled the straps, your mind jumped again to the wardrobe in the mansion. They were the kind of shoes Bruce had included, but these… these made your hands itch.
They were spectacular, they made your legs look so long there was no way you’d ever have them without the shoes on.
You bit the inside of your cheek.
Five thousand dollars.
The number hit you like a bucket of ice water.
It was more than what you kept in the savings account you stubbornly insisted on maintaining. Especially when Bruce suggested you didn’t need it. You’d told him those three thousand dollars were as much his as his money was yours, so he’d just given you a soft kiss and hadn’t pushed further.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other with the card stored in your wallet feeling as heavy as a brick.
One night he had come home after an especially long patrol and found you awake on the couch waiting for him, first-aid kit in hand. The next day, he’d shown up fully rested and dressed to hand you the card extension, even before you were engaged. All he said was that it belonged to you too.
Years had passed since that, and you’d used it occasionally—mostly for emergencies involving your son. You worked at Wayne Enterprises and tried to keep your expenses within your salary, so Bruce handled most of the purchases for galas, which had also taken time for you to accept, but eventually you gave in.
This situation was different. It wasn’t an emergency, it wasn’t important and you also didn’t feel entirely comfortable asking him for money, but… it was a unique opportunity. Maybe you could use the card and pay him back with interest.
You hesitated before taking out your phone and dialing your husband’s number. You tapped your fingers while it rang and he answered on the third ring.
—Hey, sweetheart —his low voice came through the speaker.
—Hi —you smiled, even though he couldn’t see you—. Are you busy?
—Paperwork —he sighed, and you could picture the way he was probably running his hand through his hair, messing it up—. Did something happen?
—No... Well, not really—you rushed to answer, to reassure him—. Actually… could you do me a favor?
—Of course. What do you need?
—Can I use the credit card? I promise I’ll pay you back. It’s five thousand dollars.
You blurted it out quickly, and there was a pause on the other end. A pause that was far too long and made you uneasy.
—Five thousand dollars? —his voice sounded measured, and for a moment you regretted even bringing it up.
You felt heat gather at the tips of your ears, and you bit the inside of your cheek again.
—Well… —you closed your eyes—. I came into a store just to look around and saw a really nice pair of shoes.
Another pause, and you shifted awkwardly, unsure how to act.
—Are you asking permission to use your credit card?
—…Yes? —you replied, unsure.
A low, rough laugh came through the phone. One of those he rarely allowed himself because of the constant weight on his shoulders.
You pulled the phone away from your ear and frowned at it, as if it could explain what was happening.
—Bruce I truly never thought I’d ask this, but… why are you laughing?
He exhaled audibly.
—You’re my wife —he said, as if that alone were enough —. And the mother of Dick —he huffed. He actually huffed—. Are you really asking me if you can buy a pair of five-thousand-dollar shoes? Buy the damn store if you want.
His words sank deep, and relief washed over you, making you release the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.
—I don’t want to take advantage.
—You can take advantage. I want you to.
That made you laugh.
—I’ll pay you back.
—No, you won’t.
—Yes, I will.
—No. You don’t owe me anything.
You let out a full laugh. Of course he wasn't going to give in, but neither were you, so you decided to joke around.
—What about sexual favors in exchange for shoes?
—I don't trade sex for shoes —he murmured, amused.
You laughed again, and before you could say anything else, a third voice announced that the investors would be arriving in five minutes.
—They’re waiting for you —you repeated.
—I know.
—I won’t interrupt you anymore. I’m on my break, so I’ll be back in half an hour.
—All right. —he paused —. Stop by my office before you leave.
You always did—your shift ended earlier than his, so you crossed the hall that separated your offices to kiss him goodbye and tell him you’d wait for him at the mansion.
You liked cooking, especially when it was for Bruce and Dick, so you usually went home early and helped Alfred with dinner. He didn’t mind the company, and he was an excellent teacher for new recipes. Everyone won.
So you ended the call with a quick I love you, and walked toward the saleswoman, who had stepped aside to give you privacy.
—I’ll take them.
Her face lit up with a wide smile, and you had to stop your own from spreading.
Half an hour later, you returned to the office with a new pair of shoes, kept your word and stopped by Bruce’s office. Later you drove back to the mansion thinking about the five-thousand-dollar debt you’d figure out how to repay your husband.
Note: This definitely came from the urge to look at expensive shoes which I obviously cannot afford HAHA If you made it this far, know that you live in my heart ❤️ Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs on the previous fic about Jason Todd, Take my hand. I love you all 🫶
Content: fluff, established relationship, slightly suggestive but nothing explicit, domestic content, mention of ironing Jason’s clothes (because I adore acts of service) and brief mention of Dick.
Summary: Jason Todd resists attending a family dinner at Wayne Manor. Nothing you can’t handle.
Words: +1k
English is not my first language, so if there's any mistake, feel free to let me know!
Of course Jason Todd would have a completely different idea than yours about a family dinner.
In fact, you were almost sure he didn’t care in the slightest.
But you did, and that was his curse.
That’s why he was now leaning against the doorway of the bedroom the two of you shared, watching you fix your hair.
You felt his gaze and looked up, focusing on his deep green eyes, those that looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in this world, the same ones that, if you stared too long, you might get lost in. However, something else caught your attention: his appearance. Something like his dangerously low pajama pants and no shirt. You narrowed your eyes.
It wasn’t really strange, he felt comfortable enough to walk around like that in the shabby apartment, and you hadn’t had a single complaint about it. Crucify you if you ever did.
Except now, if it weren’t for the fact that you had to leave in fifteen minutes.
You raised an eyebrow, and he rewarded you with one of his relaxed, rare smiles, the kind he saved for the privacy of the room.
—You look good —he remarked, eyeing you from head to toe.
You suppressed a smile at the compliment and decided to tease him.
—You know, I’ve been in here for the last hour. Anyone would expect something like you look beautiful, gorgeous, radiant. Just so you know.
Jason spoke without changing the expression on his face—. You look beautiful, gorgeous, radiant. Better?
You smiled, pleased. And then remembered he wasn’t even dressed.
—It’d be better if you looked just as beautiful, gorgeous, radiant —you scolded—. We have to leave here in fifteen minutes, and you’re not even showered.
—Actually, we don’t have to go —he replied simply as he handed you the shoes you motioned for.
—Don’t start —you answered, ignoring him—. You should let some water hit you before I make you leave like that. Your choice.
Jason huffed and crossed his arms, his muscles flexing with the motion. Your resolve faltered for a second, and of course he noticed.
—They don’t need us —he assured quickly—. They’ll hardly notice we’re not there. Besides, I was surrounded by that chaos yesterday at dawn.
You narrowed your eyes in his direction, ignoring the view of his body and focusing on the fact that you were going to be late.
—What do you want me to do? —you sighed—. Take off the dress and hang it up?
—I think that’s the best idea you’ve had today —he said with an open smile, and you found it very hard to think about going to the manor.
You moved toward him slowly, forgetting what you were doing, and Jason leaned back further against the frame, giving you free access to sink your fingertips into his dark hair and press gently, in the way you knew he liked. He closed his eyes and pulled you against his bare chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. You let him relax for a moment as one of his hands slipped under your dress and lift one of your legs to wrap it around his hips.
—We’re definitely staying —he declared without opening his eyes.
You let out a laugh and abruptly stepped away from him. Another chuckle threatened to escape your throat at the unpleasant grimace on his face.
—Go shower, Todd —you ordered—. I’ll iron your clothes and send a message to Dick letting him know we’ll be late.
Jason sighed, defeated, and finally stepped away from the door.
—Bossy —he muttered as he passed by.
You hummed your agreement as you watched him disappear into the bathroom.
You smiled and shook your head before returning to what you were doing. You understood perfectly why Jason didn’t want to go. You knew the story, he had told you a long time ago. You were aware of his feelings and the effort it took for him to face his demons. You knew his relationship with his family was complicated, so much so that he’d been hiding dozens of invitations to the manor because he preferred peace. It wasn’t until Dick came to your apartment to tell you personally that you found out. Still, you didn’t judge him, not at all. Your intention wasn’t to pressure him either, it’s just that… you had grown up in a family where Sundays were sacred, family breakfasts and movie nights. You knew it was impossible to have that now, but you wanted the same for him, that he could experience something resembling fraternal love that the others could offer. Maybe it was a silly thought, Red Hood, who faced criminals and had an impressive arsenal of weapons scattered around the apartment, sharing laughs and sarcastic comments with the rest of his family. It’s just that... that was Jason to you. Maybe, at first glance, he could seem tough and practically hermetic, which wasn’t untrue, but he was also Jason who, after an especially long night, sought your arms in the middle of the bed for comfort. The one who tried to make you feel loved in his own way. And you appreciated it, appreciated all of it. You hoped he understood that you wanted to go today for the same reason, because you loved him.
You didn’t notice he’d returned to the room until you felt arms wrapping around you from behind and soft kisses on your neck.
—Why do you have that face? —he suddenly asked.
You frowned as you handed him his ironed clothes.
—What face?
—That one —he pointed at your face while looking for underwear in a drawer.
You brushed it off and your gaze fell on him, wrapped in nothing but a towel, muscles on display and drops of water on his skin. A lovely view, definitely. You’d seen him like this hundreds of times, and your reaction was always the same. Still, you had a feeling that wasn’t what he meant.
—I don’t know what you’re talking about —you replied as you went back to adding the finishing touches to your lipstick.
—Sure —he answered dryly.
You didn’t react, and both of you finished getting ready in comfortable silence. Still, for a moment, while Jason was looking for his usual boots, you doubted what you were doing.
—You know I love you, right? —you asked, biting the inside of your cheek and turning to face him.
—Do you?
You huffed and threw the closest thing you could grab, which happened to be one of his old and grimy cloths for cleaning weapons.
He dodged it easily with a mocking smile.
—Apparently, yes —he replied after the look you gave him.
—You don’t hate me for making you go today? —you asked, a little insecure.
His hands stopped moving over his boots and he looked up, his eyes completely softened, urging you to come closer.
—You can make it up to me later —he suggested with a glint in his eyes.
You let out a sigh of relief.
—Sounds like a fair deal.
He smiled at that as he stood and left a chaste kiss on your cheek. Once outside the room, you watched him grab his motorcycle keys before offering you his hand.
—Ready?
—Not at all —he sighed—. Let’s just get it over with.
You didn’t let go of his hand as you went down the stairs, nor when you arrived at the manor and his body tensed up. Because he was trying, turtle-paced but trying, and that was enough for you.
Note: It's my first time writing something like this (be kind, please 😔). I truly believe that my boy is soft-hearted with his partners, he was just hurt too much. Anyways, if you've made it this far, you already have a place in my heart.
