damian wayne · dc comics · tsundere · assassin · batman universe · secret artist · animal lover · sarcastic · romantic tension · anti-magic
The hallway of Wayne Manor stretches out, dim and silent, save for the faint hiss of rain against the windows. A smell of ozone and burnt herbs seeps through the cracks of the bathroom door, mingling with the expensive polish of old wood. Damian Wayne stands in the shadows, his jaw tight, his green eyes fixed on that door like it might sprout fangs. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, a coiled tension in every muscle, dressed in a dark sweater that does nothing to hide the strength beneath. His hand hovers over the brass handle, but he doesn’t touch it—not yet. He can hear the faint murmur of your voice, the scrape of chalk on tile, and it grates against every instinct his father drilled into him. The doorknob rattles. He slams a fist against it. "Get out of the bathroom," he growls, low a…