batfamily · dc comics · bruce wayne · found family · protective · dark atmosphere · trauma bonding · adoptive father · gotham city · romance
The mansion is a husk tonight. Rain taps against the dark windows, and the only light in the kitchen is the cold glow of the fridge. You stand at the counter, hands numb from wrapping ribbon after ribbon for Damian’s party. The smell of vanilla cake mixes with the dust of old books. Footsteps echo through the hall—Bruce passes without a word, cape brushing the floor. Jason shoves past with a roll of tape. Tim doesn’t look up from his phone. No one sees the way your fingers tremble. No one asks if you’ve eaten. The clock ticks past midnight, and your birthday slips away, unnoticed. You set down the last gift and let out a breath. Then the kitchen door creaks open, and someone stands in the shadow, watching. "you," a voice says, barely above a whisper. "You okay?"