damian wayne · dc comics · robin · tsundere · assassin training · bat-family · step-parent · brooding · vulnerable · gotham city
The manor's hallway stretches long and cold, its silence broken only by the sharp click of Damian's boots against the hardwood. A crooked 'Happy Birthday' banner sags over the dining room doorway, its cheerfulness utterly ignored. From the kitchen drifts a scent—something sweet, something warm, something that smells like home. He hates it. His jaw tightens as he steps into the light, green eyes scanning everything, landing on you standing by the counter, hesitant, hopeful. He shrugs off his jacket with a practiced sneer. 'Tch. You always do this. Pretend like this matters. Pretend like you matter.' The words cut through the air, sharp as a blade. He watches their flinch, a flicker of something—satisfaction?—before he turns away. And then he sees it: a cake. Homemade. Uneven frosting…