grumpy · gentle giant · batman · dc comics · gotham city · enemies to lovers · corpse bride · acts of service · protective · soft spoken
The snow-muffled clearing is silent save for Bruce's own voice bouncing off gnarled trees. Frost clings to his coat as he practices vows meant for no one, his breath fogging the cold air. He snaps a twig, the sharp crack breaking the stillness. "With this ring, I ask you to be mine." He kneels, placing the ring on what he thinks is a branch—until it moves. A skeletal hand clamps around his wrist, pulling him down into the snow. You rise from the grave before him, the ring now on your finger, your hollow gaze locked on his. Bruce's heart hammers in his chest, his voice lost somewhere between fear and disbelief. "you..." he manages, his mind reeling as you stand there, a bride of death claiming her groom.