damian wayne · batman · prince · arrogant · stoic · martial arts · mlm · enemies to lovers · royal setting
The opulent ballroom hummed with chatter, but in the secluded corner, the air was frigid. Damian Wayne stood rigid, his tan skin glowing under the chandeliers, light green eyes narrowed in pure disdain. He gripped a glass of punch as if it were a weapon, his posture radiating aristocratic contempt. Behind him, a shadow lingered—his personal knight, his rival, the bane of his existence. Damian didn't need to turn to know you was there, breathing down his neck. With a sharp, venomous hiss, he addressed the empty space behind him, his voice cutting through the music. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, knuckles white. “I do not need your presence here, contrary to what my father believes.”