#wyane

just us tonight

Pairing - Bruce wyane x husband!reader Coming home and spending time together.

The cave was quieter than usual when you and Bruce finally returned.

The mission had been long—one of those nights where Gotham refused to sleep and every shadow seemed to hide another problem waiting to erupt. Your boots were heavy with exhaustion as you stepped off the platform into the cave, the familiar hum of computers and distant dripping water wrapping around you like a second atmosphere.

Bruce moved beside you, already pulling the cowl from his head, dark hair slightly damp with sweat and the humid night air. Even after hours in the suit, he carried himself with that same steady presence that always anchored you. When his eyes found yours, the stern edge of Batman softened into something quieter, something only you ever got to see.

“You took that hit harder than you’re letting on,” you murmured, pulling off your gloves and tossing them onto the workbench where half-finished gadgets waited for you both tomorrow.

Bruce gave the faintest huff of amusement. “You should see the other guy.” You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, brushing soot from the armored plating across his shoulder. “That’s not a real answer.”

For a moment he simply looked at you—really looked, the way he only did when the masks of the city were gone. Then he reached out and squeezed your wrist gently. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s clean up.”

The manor upstairs was warm and peaceful in a way Gotham rarely allowed. The lights were dim and soft, and Alfred had clearly anticipated your return, lamps glowing in the hallway, the house settled into a calm that felt almost sacred after the chaos outside.

The two of you slipped into the bathroom still carrying the weight of the night, armor clinking softly as you began shedding pieces of it.

Steam soon filled the room once the shower started, fogging the mirror and softening the sharp edges of the world. Bruce stepped under the water first, shoulders relaxing slightly as the heat washed over him.

When you joined him, the tension that had clung to both of you during the mission finally began to melt away. Neither of you spoke,

You reached for the shampoo bottle, pouring some into your palm before stepping closer behind him. Your fingers worked slowly through his hair, careful and gentle in a way that would have shocked anyone who only knew the Dark Knight.

Bruce leaned back just slightly into your hands, eyes closing as the water ran down both of you. The steady rhythm of your fingers against his scalp felt grounding, simple, quiet, domestic.

“Alfred says you’ve been overworking the drone prototypes again,” Bruce murmured after a moment. You snorted softly. “Alfred says that about everything.” “He’s usually right.” Your fingers tugged lightly through his hair, rinsing the soap out with your hands under the stream. “Says the man who went out tonight with cracked armor plating.”

Bruce opened one eye slightly. “You fixed it.” you smiled “Of course I did.”

When it was your turn, Bruce didn’t hesitate. He took the bottle from your hand and guided you gently beneath the water, his fingers working through your hair with surprising patience. His touch was careful, methodical even, but there was warmth in it, something steady and affectionate beneath the practiced movements. Water ran down your shoulders while his hands smoothed the soap through your hair before rinsing it away.

Then came the quiet routine that had become yours over the years. Washing away the grime from patrol. Passing the soap back and forth. Checking each other for bruises or cuts neither of you mentioned earlier. The intimacy of it had nothing to do with the closeness of the space, it was the quiet trust in every movement.

No masks. No Gotham. No criminals. Just you and him.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, the tension of the night had mostly faded. Fresh clothes replaced the heavy armor, and the scent of something warm and savory drifted down the hall.

“Alfred,” you said with a small smile. “Alfred,” Bruce agreed. The dining room felt cozy compared to the cold steel of the cave. A simple meal waited, nothing fancy, just hearty comfort food clearly chosen to refuel two people who had spent hours chasing criminals across rooftops. Alfred stood beside the table with that familiar dignified calm.

“Master Bruce. Master Y/n,” he greeted politely, though the faint smile on his face gave away his relief. “I trust the evening’s activities were… productive.”

“Define productive,” you muttered, sitting down. Bruce gave Alfred a small nod. “Thank you.”

Dinner was quiet but comfortable. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling. You talked a little about the gadgets you’d been designing together in the cave Bruce offering the occasional thoughtful suggestion while you described improvements you wanted to try next. Alfred chimed in once or twice with dry commentary about “explosions in the workshop,” which earned a rare laugh from Bruce.

Eventually the exhaustion of the night caught up with both of you.

The manor was nearly silent as you headed to the bedroom. Gotham’s distant lights flickered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold and shadow. Bruce changed quickly before sliding into bed, clearly more tired than he liked to admit.

You joined him moments later.

Bruce shifted closer almost immediately, one arm settling around you as if it had always belonged there. The world outside might have known him as the relentless protector of Gotham, the man who never seemed to rest, but here, in the quiet safety of your shared space, he allowed himself to relax.

Your arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders, pulling him closer without a word.

you soaked in each other's presence, breathing slowing as you cuddled into each other. The steady rhythm of his breathing slowed as he settled against you, the tension finally draining from his body. Somewhere downstairs a clock chimed softly, marking the late hour.

“Good work tonight,” Bruce murmured sleepily. You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You are too.” His grip tightened slightly, warm and reassuring. "I love you" Bruce yawned out, "I love you too Bruce" a smile glued to your face.

Outside, Gotham kept turning. Sirens in the far distance. Wind moving through the city’s endless towers.

But inside the manor, wrapped in blankets and each other, the night was finally peaceful.

August 3rd 2020

what are you looking at?

I love him

Inconvenient love

Batman x fem reader After a one night stand Bruce slowly gains interest in you, for better or worse

Gotham was a city that thrived on secrets, and Bruce Wayne had built his entire life around keeping his intact. Every movement, every word, every carefully curated expression was part of a performance, one that kept suspicion away from the truth lurking beneath the surface. But that night, under the golden glow of chandeliers and the hum of polite conversation, something slipped. It started the moment he noticed you.

You weren’t trying to be the center of attention, and yet you drew his focus instantly. There was something deliberate in the way you carried yourself, like every step was measured but effortless. When you spoke to him, it wasn’t with the usual flattery or shallow curiosity he’d grown used to. You challenged him, questioned him, looked at him as though you were searching for something deeper than the mask he wore. It unsettled him and intrigued him in equal measure.

Bruce didn’t often let people get close, but with you, the walls didn’t just lower, they disappeared. The conversation flowed too easily, your words slipping past his defenses before he even realized it. For once, he wasn’t thinking about patrol routes or criminal patterns or the weight of Gotham pressing down on him. He was just… present. Just a man, standing across from someone who made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t allowed in years.

What followed was impulsive, uncharacteristic, and dangerously human. A single night where Bruce let go of control, where he stopped being Batman and stopped performing as Bruce Wayne, and simply existed in the moment.

He told himself it would end there, that it had to. People like him didn’t get to have something real, not without consequences, but you didn’t disappear.

You lingered, slipping back into his life in ways that felt almost coincidental, though nothing about you ever truly felt like chance. Each encounter built on the last, conversations deepening, silences growing more comfortable.

Bruce found himself looking for you in crowds, noticing when you weren’t there, replaying your words long after you’d gone. It wasn’t just interest anymore. It was attachment, something far more dangerous than he wanted to admit.

For the first time in years, Gotham didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

And that was exactly when everything started to unravel.

There had always been one opponent who stood apart from the rest—a figure in Gotham’s underworld who operated with precision and patience, someone who never made a move without purpose.

She wasn’t reckless or chaotic; she was calculated, always staying just out of reach, always leaving just enough behind to make it clear she wanted Batman to follow.

Their encounters had become a pattern, almost a rhythm, one built on strategy, tension, and an unspoken understanding of each other’s minds. Lately, though, something had changed. Her actions had grown more personal, more deliberate, as if she were testing him rather than simply evading capture. It was subtle, something only Bruce would notice, but it was there. And once he saw it, he couldn’t ignore it.

The realization didn’t come gently. It struck all at once, sharp and undeniable, as scattered details aligned into something he could no longer dismiss. The timing of your appearances. The way you seemed to know things you shouldn’t. The familiarity in your gaze, like you were studying not just Bruce Wayne, but something deeper, something hidden.

And then he saw you move. Not as yourself, not as the person he had come to know, but as her.

The truth settled in his chest like a weight, heavy and suffocating, you weren’t just someone he had let his guard down around, you weren’t just someone he had started to care about.

You were the one he had been chasing all along.

That night, the city stretched out beneath him as he stood in the shadows, watching you. There was no doubt anymore, no room for denial. Everything about you fit too perfectly into the pattern he had spent years trying to break. And yet, knowing the truth didn’t make it easier to accept. If anything, it made everything feel infinitely more complicated.

“You’re not going to come down?” you asked, your voice cutting cleanly through the silence.

Bruce stilled. You hadn’t even turned to look at him, but of course you didn’t need to. You already knew he was there. You always did.

Slowly, he stepped out of the shadows, his expression hard, though there was something beneath it, something conflicted that he couldn’t quite hide. Seeing you like this, knowing what you were, it clashed violently with every memory he had of you before.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, his voice low, controlled, though it carried an edge that hadn’t been there before.

You turned then, meeting his gaze without hesitation. There was no fear in your expression, no guilt, only that same calm certainty that had drawn him in from the beginning.

“I could,” you replied softly, “but you’d know I was lying.”

The honesty of it hit harder than any denial could have.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The space between you felt different now, charged with something heavier than before. Everything that had once felt simple was now tangled in something far more dangerous.

“Was any of it real?” Bruce asked, and despite everything, there was something undeniably human in the question.

Your expression shifted, just slightly, not enough to give everything away, but enough to show that the question mattered.

“You think I’d let someone like you get that close if it wasn’t?” you said quietly. That wasn’t the answer he needed. But it was the only one you were willing to give.

Bruce exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew the line you stood on, the role you played in Gotham, the threat you posed.

“I should stop you,” he said finally.

“I know,” you answered.But you didn't moved.

Because the truth was, this was no longer just a battle between hero and villain. It was something far more complicated, something neither of you had planned for, and neither of you seemed ready to end.