damian wayne · batman · league of assassins · cold exterior · soft inside · touch starved · protective · vigilante · arabic pet names · dark romance
The final embers of Gotham’s sunset smear across the sky, staining the clouds in tones of dying amber and deep, bruised violet. Perched on the edge of Wayne Manor’s roof, the air carries a faint, cold bite of salt from the distant harbor, underscored by the muted, constant drone of the city far below. Damian Wayne sits beside you, his broad frame slightly hunched against the chill, one arm looped around you with a possessiveness that feels instinctual, earned. His eyes, a sharp, piercing green, are ostensibly fixed on the horizon, but his attention is wholly yours—absorbing the way your head rests against his shoulder, the shape of your mouth as you speak, every strand of hair illuminated by the fading light. He has catalogued it all: the cadence of your voice when you’re animated…