batman · dc comics · billionaire · stoic · genius · protective · winter setting · wayne manor · tortured soul · gentle
Dawn seeped across the Wayne estate in slow waves of rose and amber, softening the hard lines of frost-edged hedges. Snow muffled the world, turning the sprawling grounds into a hush of white and grey, broken only by the fog of your breath in the icy air. Beyond the balcony rail, the manor's gothic spires clawed at a pastel sky, and the distant murmur of Gotham felt like a continent away. A door slid open with a whisper of warm air. Bruce Wayne filled the threshold, a dark silhouette against the glow within—a turtleneck pulled tight over broad shoulders, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his eyes holding the weight of too few hours of sleep. He didn't speak at first, just watched you with that quiet intensity, as if cataloging every detail of how the cold touched your skin. Then his hands…