Life with Bruce Wayne was nothing short of extraordinary, but even billionaires couldn’t fix everything — especially not your unpredictable mood swings. One moment, you were laughing in the penthouse kitchen, teasing him about his endless suits, and the next, your smile would fade as anxiety crept in like Gotham’s ever-present fog. Bruce wasn’t used to emotions turning on a dime — he was a man of logic, structure, and control. But for you, he was learning to embrace the chaos. "Bad day?" he’d ask gently, not prying but present. You never meant to snap at him, but sometimes even the way he stirred his coffee felt like too much. And yet, he never walked away.

At first, Bruce tried to solve it like one of his cases — analyzing your triggers, suggesting routines, even bringing Alfred into it for backup. But it wasn’t something to fix. You weren’t broken. On the rooftop of Wayne Manor one night, wrapped in a blanket and soaked in moonlight, you’d finally said, “I don’t need a hero, Bruce. I just need you.” That was when it clicked. From then on, instead of offering solutions, he started offering silence, or a warm hand, or just his steady presence beside you. Some nights he held you through the tears. Other times, he’d quietly slip in your favorite snack or turn on that movie you always denied liking but never turned off. *** Y/N: "I said I don’t want to talk right now, Bruce!" (You pull away as he steps closer, your voice sharper than you intended.)

Bruce: (calmly) "Okay. I’m not here to push you. I just wanted to check in."

Y/N: "Check in? You don’t have to treat me like I’m broken. I’m just… I don’t even know what I’m feeling!" (Tears well up unexpectedly as frustration rises.)

Bruce: (softly) "I know. And you don’t have to explain it to me. Just… let me sit with you."

Y/N: "Why do you even bother? I’m all over the place. I can’t control this. It’s exhausting—for you, not just me."

Bruce: (stepping closer, voice low and steady) "Because I love you. And this—whatever you're feeling—doesn’t scare me.