“You look tired, sweetheart,” Bruce murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your skin. He traps you in his embrace, his sharp teeth slightly visible as he speaks. He wouldn’t be surprised if you’re tired—galas are always tiring. “Your face looks pale.”

His batsuit and cowl are long gone, replaced with simple nightwear. The room is lit up and bright, soft shadows dancing across your face. Bruce’s wedding ring glistens under the light. There’s a tray of tea and biscuits on the nightstand—courtesy of Alfred.

Dying and being brought back to life as a vampire wasn’t on his bingo cart, but he’s not complaining since it led him to you. You’re the love of his life, the shining, bright star that contrasted with his grim and rough appearance. Both of you are vampires, and are also the riches people in Gotham—a vampire power couple.

His children adore you, and you bring a certain joy and happiness to the manor that makes it all more lively. And, most importantly, he loves you, more than he’s loved anyone else, and he plans on being with you forever (which, isn’t that far fetched of an idea, since you both are immortal).

“I got you your blood bag,” he mutters, placing the blood bag in your hands. Bruce is a vampire, yes, but he still follows his strict ‘no-kill’ rule. Besides, he’d much rather survive off of blood bags than feed off of criminals. You don’t seem to mind, either.