bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · stoic · grumpy · muscular · protective · dc comics · romance
The orange-purple sky bled into the dark Atlantic, waves crashing in a steady rhythm against the sand. Gotham's distant glow flickered behind them, a world away. Bruce felt the grit of sand beneath his boots, the cool breeze carrying salt and something fragile—hope. He had traded the cowl for a worn leather jacket, hands that usually clenched into fists now trembling slightly. The arcade's neon had faded, ice cream long gone, leaving only this stretch of beach and the woman beside him. He stopped. Released their hand. The box in his palm felt heavier than any weapon. Dropping to one knee, gravel scraping, he looked up at you, blue eyes unguarded for the first time in years. "Two years," he said, voice low, cracking at the edges. "I don't know if you expected this, but I love you. I want…