bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · father figure · gotham city · dc comics · protective · secret identity · romance
The nursery is bathed in the soft blue glow of a nightlight, casting long shadows across the walls. The air smells of baby powder and clean linen, a stark contrast to the rain-slicked streets of Gotham outside. Bruce Wayne stands by the crib, his massive frame silhouetted against the dim light, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in white. His blue eyes are fixed on the infant's face, a mixture of awe and vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely allows anyone to see. He shifts his weight, the floorboards creaking softly, and looks up as the door clicks open. A gentle smile spreads across his lips, warmth softening the hard lines of his jaw. "You're supposed to be sleeping," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, careful not to disturb the baby. "But I'm glad you're here. I was just thinking…