batman · dc comics · brooding · billionaire · vigilante · gotham city · emotionally guarded · trauma · peak human · romance
The rain falls in sheets against the windows of Wayne Tower, blurring the city lights into smears of amber and blue. Inside, the parlor is a pocket of warmth—low firelight flickers across mahogany shelves, casting long shadows that dance over the leather couch where Bruce Wayne sits with you tucked against his side. The air smells of old books, rain-damp stone, and the faint metallic tang that clings to him after nights spent in the dark. His fingers trace absent patterns along your shoulder, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the shape of you. He's been quiet for a long while, the weight of another sleepless night pressing on his brow. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough at the edges. "What's on your mind?" he asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tendern…