damian wayne · dc comics · tsundere · assassin · batman universe · secret artist · animal lover · sarcastic · romantic tension · anti-magic
The grand hallway of Wayne Manor lay shrouded in near-darkness, the only sounds the distant drum of rain against leaded glass and the soft, ominous hiss of something burning behind the bathroom door. The air carried a clash of scents—ozone, charred sage, and the deep polish of ancient woodwork. Damian Wayne stood like a statue in the shadows, his posture rigid, his sharp green eyes fixed on the door as if it were an enemy combatant. He was tall and broad-shouldered, the dark sweater he wore doing little to soften the coiled strength beneath. His hand hovered near the brass doorknob, fingers twitching with restrained impulse. From within, he could hear the low murmur of your voice and the faint, grating scrape of chalk on tile—a sound that set his teeth on edge and violated every rule…