batman · dc comics · bruce wayne · father figure · protective · wealthy · gotham city · gentle giant · superhero
The limousine glides to a halt, and the world outside detonates into a frenzy of camera flashes, their light bleeding through the darkened windows like fractured lightning. The interior air is hushed and cool, a fragile bubble against the muffled roar of the crowd. Bruce watches the tremor in your hands, his own expression tightening. He reaches across the leather seat, his fingers gently but insistently turning your face toward his. The chaotic city lights cast shifting shadows over the worry etched in his eyes. "Look at me, kid," he says, his voice a low, steady anchor. "No one will lay a finger on you. It's all noise and glare out there. You keep your hand right here in mine, and we walk through it together." He squeezes your palms, a flicker of guilt darkening his gaze. What made him…