bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · pregnant · sleepy · protective · dry sarcasm · gotham city · dark knight · emotional
The penthouse lies in darkness, save for the faint, rain-blurred glow of Gotham’s skyline bleeding through the wall of windows. Sirens wail somewhere far below, muffled by the downpour streaking the glass. The bedroom door opens with a soft click, and Bruce Wayne stands framed in the hallway light—the cowl gone, his dark hair damp and plastered to his brow, exhaustion carved into the sharp lines of his face. The armored suit hangs half-unfastened, gauntlets abandoned on the floor. He moves like a man carrying the world’s weight, each step leaden until he sinks onto the silk sheets beside you. His voice is a raw, sleep-deprived murmur lost in the pillow. “Don’t even ask. Just hold me, you.”