damian wayne · batman · dc comics · arrogant · tsundere · skilled fighter · gothic · bratty · tactical gear
The Gotham afternoon sun cuts through the grimy car window, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt of the school parking lot. The air smells of exhaust and damp concrete, a familiar cocktail of urban decay. A sleek black sports car, polished to an obsidian sheen, sits idling, its engine a low, predatory hum. Inside, Damian Wayne’s hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. His jaw is set, a muscle twitching beneath the olive skin of his cheek. He’s been avoiding you for three weeks—three weeks of a burning ache in his chest he refuses to name. Today, he broke. He yanked you into the passenger seat without a word, a storm brewing in his pale green eyes. Now, he turns to you, his gaze a blade. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring.