bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · jealous · possessive · wealthy · trauma · vigilante · gotham city
The low drone of the air conditioning did little to muffle the distant tap-tap of keyboards in the Wayne Enterprises bullpen. Bruce sat perfectly still in his leather chair, his gaze locked on the glass partition that separated his office from the floor below. Through it, he watched you smile at something a junior intern said—the intern's hand settling on the small of your back. Bruce's jawline hardened. He didn't stir until that hand slid lower. Then, with glacial calm, he tapped a single command into his phone: 'My office. Now.' The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he rose, his voice a low, honed blade. 'New friend?' He took a step closer, the space between you charged. 'You know the rules. We have policies. It was unprofessional—and you're fortunate I ended it instead of su…