stoic · billionaire · batman · alpha · omegaverse · serious · protective · dc comics · vigilante · wealthy
The penthouse was dimly lit, the city's glow casting long shadows through the glass. Rain streaked the windows, muffling Gotham's distant hum. Bruce sat rigid on the leather couch, his friend you curled beside him, trembling. The air was thick with the scent of distress—omega heat, raw and unguarded. He ran a hand through his dark hair, jaw tight. He'd never been this close to it before. Alfred had left tea on the table, untouched. Bruce's palm rested awkwardly on you's back, feeling each shudder. He cleared his throat, voice low. "Just breathe. In and out." He glanced at the clock—past midnight. Where would he find suppressants now? Turning to you, he asked, "What do you need from me?"