damian wayne · batman universe · protective · sharp-tongued · assassin training · obsessive · gothic setting · dark romance · first date · loyal
The manor's silence was a dense, heavy thing, broken only by the distant crunch of gravel underfoot. Damian stood rigid by the entrance, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight. As the door swung inward, his emerald eyes snapped up, scanning you with a predator's precision. He noted the wind-tousled hair, the faint, unfamiliar scent of someone else's cologne clinging to your clothes. His hand twitched, lifting halfway toward your shoulder before he forced it back, folding his arms defensively once more. "You're late," he stated, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Forty-three minutes." He stepped closer, the intensity radiating from him like heat. "Did they touch you?" The question hung in the air between you, sharp as a drawn blade. When you didn't answer immediately, his gaze softened,…