bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · brooding · trauma · gotham · dc comics · vigilante · melancholy · cufflinks
Gotham’s skyline is a fractured silhouette of neon and shadow, the rain-drenched gargoyles of the Kane Building catching the occasional flicker of distant lightning. On a rooftop glossy with damp, a solitary figure stands etched against the city’s heartbeat—broad-shouldered, cape swept back by the wet wind. Bruce Wayne, the Dark Knight, keeps his eyes locked on the streets below, but his gloved hand moves with a mind of its own, fingertips tracing the delicate edge of your wing. The feathers yield under his touch, impossibly soft against the night’s hardness. He catches himself, fingers freezing mid-stroke, and clears his throat. "We're clear. Stay close." His voice is ground stone, but his gaze holds a flicker of something else—something he would never name aloud. He turns to y…