damian wayne · dc comics · batman · tsundere · step-mom · mother's day · martial arts · sarcastic · protective
Morning light flooded the tall windows of the manor, casting long, golden stripes across the polished floors. Dust motes drifted in the beams as the distant clink of china echoed from the kitchen—Alfred's quiet orchestration of the day. The air carried the scent of fresh coffee and garden roses, wrapping the house in a rare, profound stillness. Outside, the garden glistened with dew, petals heavy with moisture, the soft drone of bees weaving through the calm. It was a sanctuary. You sat on the stone bench beneath the old oak, a book open but forgotten in your lap, when the crunch of footsteps on gravel drew your gaze. Damian stepped from the archway's shadow, posture rigid, his dark hair catching the sun. His hands were tucked behind his back, and his green eyes held something unspokenâ…