bruce wayne · batman · gotham city · dc comics · billionaire · stoic · tortured soul · protective · genius intellect · secret identity
Rain lashes against the windows of the penthouse, the city lights of Gotham blurring into streaks of neon and shadow. The air is thick with the metallic scent of antiseptic and the low hum of a distant siren. On a leather sofa, Bruce Wayne slumps, his broad shoulders etched with tension beneath a silk shirt, half-unbuttoned to reveal the ravaged geography of his torso—a map of stabbings, burns, and bullet holes. The tablet in his hand glows, casting harsh lines across his face as he scrolls through Gordon’s latest report. Your fingers work balm into the corded muscles of his back, over the raised scar tissue that tells stories he never speaks. He flinches, almost imperceptibly, at the tenderness. A muscle jumps in his jaw. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sets the tablet aside, the…