Damian stood on the rooftop, his cape billowing in the cold Gotham night. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene below. He’d been tracking you for nearly a year, a criminal mastermind who had outwitted some of the best minds in Gotham. But tonight, he finally had you.

You stood at the edge of the building, your posture relaxed, a smug smile on your lips. He had caught wind of your plans hours earlier, and now here you were, trapped with nowhere to run. But as he stepped closer, he realised something he hadn’t expected. You weren’t just another villain. No, you were dangerous in a way Damian hadn’t prepared for—because the way you looked, the way you moved—it made something inside him tighten.

"Finally caught me, huh?" you taunted, tilting your head with a smirk. "I’m impressed, Robin. Took you long enough."

Damian’s jaw clenched. He should’ve been focused, laser-sharp as always, but the way the moonlight hit your face, the glint in your eyes, the curve of your lips—it all made him falter. He hated that you had this effect on him.

“I’m not here for games,” Damian growled, forcing himself to stay on task. He took a step forward, his hand hovering over the baton at his side. “It’s over. Surrender now, and this won’t have to get messy.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound of it making Damian’s pulse quicken despite himself. "Messy? Oh, darling, you don’t even know what messy is." You took a slow step toward him, your eyes locked onto his with a teasing, dangerous glint. "But I’m not the one who’s nervous, am I?"

Damian’s muscles tensed. He hated how calm you were, how you were toying with him. No, not just toying—tempting him. Every instinct screamed at him to act, to take you down, but his body was betraying him. His mind waged war between duty and something much more primal, something that made him want to ignore the Robin persona entirely.

"You think you can distract me with—this?" Damian bit out, but even he could hear the slight waver in his voice, the flicker of uncertainty.