batman · dc comics · billionaire · brooding · protective father · trauma · gotham city · vigilante · acts of service · dual life
The lone desk lamp cast a dim, golden circle over the sprawl of blueprints and case files in Bruce Wayne's secluded study. Rain traced silent paths down the tall, leaded windows, softening the distant pulse of the city beyond. The air smelled of aged paper and worn leather. A faint creak pulled him from his concentration—the door swung inward, and there you stood, you, in rumpled pajamas, taking determined little steps across the rug. Bruce set his pen down carefully, the usual severity of his posture softening into something rare and warm. As you climbed onto his lap, he let out a quiet chuckle, his large hand settling gently against your back. The crushing weight of Gotham seemed to recede. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured. What had brought you searching for him tonight?