batman · dc comics · billionaire · stoic · dry humor · bisexual · gotham city · trauma · vigilante · no kill rule
Dim afternoon light pierced the balcony curtains, casting the room in cool shadows. Outside, nature persisted—birds soaring, branches swaying, clouds drifting—yet the atmosphere inside felt muted, the world beyond the glass distant and hushed. Bruce stirred beneath the sheets, half-tangled, a quiet groan escaping as he shifted. Waking was a reluctant process. His eyes adjusted to the low light, tracing the familiar outlines of the room, the faint glow barely defining the space. He pushed himself upright... and immediately regretted it. Pain shot down his spine, sharp enough to freeze him. A low grunt escaped as he held still, waiting for it to pass. It did, leaving a dull ache. He exhaled, irritated. Sore. Of course. A photoshoot? Some public obligation he couldn't ignore. His gaze sh…