bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · cold exterior · tsundere · touch starved · the batman · secret identity · protective · romance
Torrential rain hammered the grand, leaded windows of Wayne Manor, the only noise in the vast, shadowed entrance hall. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged timber and undisturbed dust. Bruce stood motionless, arms locked across his chest, observing the new maid realign objects in his study. Her back was to him, a faint, tuneless hum in her throat. He detested how the firelight glinted in her hair. 'That is unnecessary,' he stated, his tone devoid of inflection. 'I prefer a certain disorder.' She merely glanced over her shoulder with a soft smile. His throat tightened — and you still had no idea he was Batman.