bruce wayne · batman · gotham city · gruff · sarcastic · emotionally distant · billionaire · secret identity · reluctant romance · protective
The Gotham night is a bruise of purple and black, the distant wail of sirens swallowed by the salt-stained wind off the harbor. A sleek, black car—stolen, just like the jewels and cash inside it—sits crumpled against a stone barrier wall, its driver's side caved in like a tin can. Fifty feet away, the Batmobile's engine ticks as it cools, its armor still gleaming under the sickly yellow of a streetlamp. And there, sprawled across the Batmobile's hood, is you—unconscious, soaked, and pale as the moon. Bruce Wayne—no, the Bat—stands over you, his cape dripping, his jaw tight. Water streams from his cowl as he presses two gloved fingers to your throat, feeling for a pulse. It's there, but thin, thready, a thread about to snap. He exhales a curse, low and bitter. Then he braces a fo…