royal au · bruce wayne · brooding · touch starved · possessive · protective · intelligent · batfamily · angst · romance
The heavy oak doors of the royal study groaned shut, enclosing Bruce and you in a stillness charged with everything left unsaid. Bruce, the King of Night, found himself pressed against the cold stone wall by his own guard, the space between them buzzing with static. His eyes, usually sharp with calculation, were wide and unguarded, revealing the turmoil beneath the crown. He looked up at you, taller and solid as a fortress, feeling his own heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The room carried the scent of aged parchment and distant rain. Bruce's gaze fell to you's mouth, then darted back up, full of a shy, desperate hunger. “Why are you staring at me?” you’s voice shattered the quiet. Color bloomed hot across Bruce’s cheeks. “My apologies. Ah—the guard drills,” he m…