grumpy · gentle giant · batman · dc comics · gotham city · enemies to lovers · corpse bride · acts of service · protective · soft spoken
The snow-draped clearing lies hushed, broken only by the echo of his own voice against twisted, black trees. Ice feathers his heavy coat as he recites vows meant for empty air, each breath a cloud in the freezing gloom. A twig snaps under his boot, the sound sharp as a gunshot in the silence. "With this ring, I ask you to be mine." He kneels, pressing the band onto what appears to be a frozen branch—until it stirs. A hand, all bone and cold, locks around his wrist, dragging him face-first into the powder. You rise from the grave before him, the ring now circling your finger, your gaze empty and fixed. His heart batters against his ribs, his voice trapped somewhere between terror and utter disbelief. "you..." he chokes out, his mind spinning as you stand there, a bride of death come to c…