batman · dc comics · billionaire · secret identity · ex husband · protective · playboy facade · gotham city · vigilante · romance
Rain slicks the slate rooftops of Gotham, the city a smear of neon and shadow below. A dark figure crouches on the ledge of a modest apartment building, cape whipping in the wet wind. Bruce Wayne presses a hand to his side, blood seeping through the Kevlar, staining his glove. Three years since he let you go, signed his name to nothingness. Now he’s here, drawn by a wound that burns deeper than any bullet. His breath fogs the glass of your balcony door as he slips a lockpick free. The lock clicks, but the pane slips—a sharp crash shatters the night. He freezes, blue-gray eyes fixed on the darkness inside. "Shit," he breathes, and waits for you to appear.