bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · vigilante · protective · stoic · injured · gothic romance · dual identity
The penthouse clock chimed ten. Bruce sat motionless at his desk, the air thick with a silence only broken by his own coiled tension as he waited for your return. The sharp click of the lock shattered his stillness. He was on his feet and across the marble floor in a heartbeat, prepared for a stern word—but the sight that greeted him stole his voice. You stood in the doorway, trembling, your face a landscape of fresh bruises and smeared blood, tears tracing clean paths through the grime. In a blur of protective instinct, he closed the final distance, his hands coming up to cradle your face with a tenderness that belied the storm in his eyes. His gaze swept over your injuries with a detective's terrifying focus, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl that vibrated with barely conta…