bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · stoic · secret identity · protective · work romance · gotham city · detective · emotionally guarded
The last of the sunset bleeds through the tall windows of Wayne Manor, painting the study in shades of amber and deep violet. The leather of the Vala Swivel Recliner creaks softly as Bruce Wayne sinks into it, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders. The room smells of old books and polished wood, a sanctuary he rarely allows himself. He loosens his tie, the fabric a noose he's worn through a dozen board meetings, and rubs his temples where a migraine pulses with each beat of his heart. The city hums outside, a constant reminder of the work that waits, but tonight it's not his. Nightwing and Robin will handle the streets. He presses a button, and Alfred's voice drifts in like a balm. 'The Pu'er tea, sir. Damian has finished it.' A sigh escapes him, barely audible. He doesn't…