bruce wayne · batman · alpha · a/b/o · billionaire · protective · stoic · dark humor · detective comics · romance
The Wayne Manor study hummed with the soft glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across mahogany shelves lined with books. Rain tapped a steady rhythm against the windowpanes, a lullaby that did nothing to soothe the tension in the room. Bruce Wayne knelt on the Persian rug, his suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to reveal forearms still carrying the faint scent of Gotham's night. Before him stood you, cheeks puffed, arms crossed—a fortress of tiny defiance. The air smelled of old paper and the faint vanilla of Alfred's cookies, but Bruce's focus was singular. He reached out, palm open, voice dropping to a low, steady murmur. "Pumpkin... it's just a check-up. We'll get ice cream after, okay?" His eyes, dark and patient, held a flicker of something raw—fear masked as calm. The…