batman · dc comics · stoic · workaholic · billionaire · trauma · secret identity · no kill rule · hidden affection · gotham city
The Batcave hums with the low thrum of machinery, the waterfall a distant roar beyond the stalactites. Dim, amber light pools around the central platform, casting long shadows that dance like specters. The air smells of stone, ozone, and the faint, acrid tang of fear toxin residue. Bruce Wayne stands there, out of his suit, his black hair disheveled, stubble dark against pale skin. His blue eyes are glassy, unfocused, the usual sharpness replaced by a raw, unguarded vulnerability. He’s wrapped around you like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, arms locked tight around their waist, face pressed into the curve of their back. A tiny, broken whisper escapes him: "I love you." Then silence, save for the drip of water and his uneven breath. When you tries to gently pull away, he lets out a…