Oikawa broke up with you thinking that it’ll help him focus on volleyball. But he didn’t know how much it’ll wreck him instead
@celoviaeva on tumblr !
Oikawa has always been the star.
But he will never be the sun.
No matter how desperately he chased that title. No matter how many hours he spent training for it. Eventually, he knew someone blessed with what he called “natural talent” would surpass him.
You had seen it coming from the very beginning.
It was during the first summer of middle school when you confessed to Oikawa—your classmate—beneath a large sakura tree straight out of some cheesy romance manga.
And somehow, against all expectations, he accepted immediately.
No hesitation. No awkward silence.
Just a simple nod and an easy, “Okay.”
At first, you genuinely thought he was joking.
At first you thought it was just a bet.
Because who says yes that quickly?
Especially Oikawa Tooru.
The boy every girl whispered about in hallways.
The boy who shined too brightly for anyone to look at directly.
But somehow, he stayed.
He walked you home after practice with his jersey thrown over one shoulder. He complained dramatically whenever you stole his milk bread. He rested his head on your lap during weekends while ranting about Kageyama and Ushijima until his voice turned hoarse.
And slowly, terrifyingly slowly,
Oikawa became your home.
You learned the sides of him no one else noticed.
How he stared at the ceiling in silence after losing.
How his fingers trembled whenever he overworked himself too hard.
How his smile looked different when it was real.
You loved him through every ugly, exhausted, insecure part of himself.
But volleyball always came first.
You knew that too.
So when he stopped texting first…
When practices got longer…
When his responses became shorter…
You noticed.
Of course you did.
And one evening, beneath flickering streetlights after practice, Oikawa finally said the words you already expected.
“I think…”
He swallowed hard.
“…we should break up.”
The world didn’t stop dramatically like in movies.
No rain.
No crying.
No music swelling in the background.
Just silence.
Oikawa refused to look at you.
“It’s hard balancing everything right now,” he continued quietly. “Volleyball’s getting serious and I just—”
“You want to focus,” you finished softly.
His expression tightened immediately.Because you understood too quickly.
And somehow that hurt him more.
You smiled anyway. Small. Gentle. Painfully understanding.
“Okay.”
That was it.
No begging.
No fighting.
You simply let him go.
And for a moment, Oikawa wished you hadn’t. Because if you cried, maybe this would’ve been easier.
But you only stepped back and said:
“Do your best, Tooru.”
The next few weeks felt strange. Oikawa finally had what he wanted.
More time.
More practice.
More focus.
So why did everything feel so empty?
Why did he still glance toward your classroom after school?
Why did his hand instinctively reach for his phone after every match?
Why did victories suddenly feel quieter without you there to celebrate them?
“Dude,” Iwaizumi frowned one afternoon, “what’s wrong with you lately?”
“Nothing.”
Lie.
Because Oikawa kept seeing you everywhere.
In the hair tie around his wrist.
In the cafeteria drinks you used to buy him.
In the extra umbrella sitting in his locker because you always worried he’d forget his.
And the worst part?
You looked fine.
You still smiled at people. Still laughed with your friends.
Meanwhile, Oikawa felt like he was slowly caving in on himself.
Then came the match against Shiratorizawa.
Aoba Johsai lost.
Again.
The gym felt suffocating afterward.
Oikawa smiled through it, because that’s what stars do.
They shine.
Even while burning themselves apart.
But later that night, while everyone else had gone home, he sat alone in the empty gym with his head lowered and fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
And for the first time in forever—
He broke.
Not because they lost.
But because the first person he wanted to see afterward wasn’t there anymore.
You used to stay after every game.
Win or lose.
You used to hand him water bottles while telling him he played well anyway. Used to scold him for blaming himself too much. Used to stand beside him when volleyball crushed him whole.
Now there was only silence.
And Oikawa finally understood something terrifying:
Volleyball was his entire world.
But somehow…
You had become the part that made that world worth surviving.
Casual Photographer Tim Drake x Reader who keeps painting his photos but adding subtle references to Red Robin in her paintings to fuck with him
Tim: LOOK! In the original image this bench emerald green, but in her painting, she changed the color to HEX #8c0e16. THE EXACT SAME COLOR AS THE ORIGINAL RED ROBIN SUIT
Jason: Uh huh suuure. After last week’s “Floral declaration of malicious intent” I am no longer invested in whatever hate boner you have for this woman.
Tim: YOU CANNOT TELL ME THE INCLUSION OF ROSES, WOLFSBANE, AND BLACK DAHLIA ISNT A DECLARATION OF WAR
Jason: No I definitely can
Dick: Have you ever considered that you may be paranoid?
Tim: Absolutely not. I’m on to something. She’s obviously a threat to our security
Damian: I don’t see a problem here.
Jason: Oh course you dont. You find all of Tim’s mental breakdowns hilarious
Damian: I have no idea what you’re talking about. *To Tim* That branch formation looks suspicious. You should take a closer look.
Tim: OF COURSE! SHE REALLY THOUGHT SHE HAD ME THERE
𝒃lurb ﹕ a 'secret' relationship between a manager and an opposing team's captain doesn't exactly remain secret for long.. ╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 1.8k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ my first for posting kita 💗 hope i did him justice
● requested ☆
the two of you have been dating for six months, completely in secret because you didn't want the miya twins making your life a living hell, but, kita.. well, kita's good.
but he doesn't actually know how to hide things.
or- maybe he does, and reveals them on purpose. but you'll never know.
he doesn't lie, he doesn't sneak around, and he treats your relationship with that same discipline that he treats everything else in his life.
another thing kita doesn't do is 'the down low'. to him, if a thing exists, it should be acknowledged.
you've already had to stop him from carrying your heavy bags three times this week, giving him a frantic, wide eyed glare until he slowly let go and walked away with a slightly puzzled frown.
today, you're standing at the long folding tables in the back of what you'd call the dining room, helping the other managers of various teams chop vegetables for dinner, and you can clearly see him through the window.
kita's out by the gravel path, systematically lining up everyone's shoes by size and team.
"the inarizaki captain is kind of intense, isn't he?" yachi says softly, dropping a handful of grated carrots into a massive metal pot next to you. she follows your eyes to where they're glancing out the window, shivering a little. "every time i walk past him, i feel like i'm about to get graded on my posture. he doesn't even.. yell, he just kinda.. looks at people. it's like, being judged by a very polite spirit."
you keep your head down, focusing entirely on the onion you are dicing so she doesn't see your eyes darting toward him again. "well, someone has to keep their team from burning the building down. he's just being thorough. that's how he is."
"no, it's more than that," tsukishima says, suddenly appearing behind the table to grab a stack of water pitchers.
he leans against the huge fridge, looking down at you with that obnoxious, half lidded stare that you've learned means he's figured something out and is going to torture you with it. "he's been thorough about our bench specifically. i. noticed he spent ten minutes this morning, fixing the loose hinge on our equipment trunk."
"he was just being hel‐"
"and yesterday, he spent his break neatly folding the karasuno bibs that tanaka left in a pile. it's almost like he has a personal investment in making sure our team runs smoothly.." he sidles a glance at you, lips quirking into a smirk. "or.. maybe just our manager."
your hand slips slightly on the knife, and you have to take a slow breath to keep from turning pink. "he just likes order."
tsukishima lets out a short laugh, apparently satisfied by your reaction, and strolls out of the kitchen.
but not before muttering roguishly, "you seem to know him a great deal."
inhaling deeply, you try to shake it off. he knows nothing, he's just trying to get a rise out of you, you tell yourself, but..
"hey," yachi smiles at you. "ignore him, he's nothing but a pain in the butt sometimes." she scrunches her nose up in an endearing way before nudging your side.
then her eyes widen with horror. "oh, i shouldn't have done that! you're older than me- my senpai! we're not close enough to- to nudge- i'm so sorry- i didn't even- we're not friends.. no! that came out wrong- i–"
you burst out laughing, setting your knife down. this shuts up the rambling girl, who has a small hand clamped over her mouth, a stray carrot danging from in between her middle and ring finger.
"we're friends, yachi. you don't have to panic, you could run me over and it'd be fine." you pause. "okay, maybe not to that extent, but you know what i mean." you nudge her back to show it's okay.
yachi slowly lowers her hand. then she beams at you.
ten minutes later, after your lovely conversation with yachi, the room fills up with a wave of hungry hungry hippos high school boys.
you're standing by the rice cookers, handing out bowls to the massive forming line, when kita shinsuke, handsome kita shinsuke, your boyfriend kita shinsuke, in all his glory, walks in.
he's already freshly showered, unlike most likely many of the other boys, his white and black hair damp and perfectly combed, wearing his inarizaki track pants and a plain white t-shirt.
kita doesn't join the loud, chaotic swarm around the miya twins, though. he walks straight up to the end of the line, waiting his turn patiently.
when he gets to you, you try to keep your expression completely blank as you scoop a portion of rice into a bowl and hand it to him. "here you go, kita-san."
but kita doesn't take the bowl immediately. instead, he stares down at your hands, eyes narrowing as he notices the tiny bandaid wrapped around your thumb – the result of a situation with a dull peeler an hour ago.
shit. you know what’s about to happen. you know him far too well.
without a word, he reaches out, takes hold of your wrist with his firm grip, and pulls your hand up to eye level inspect it.
and you seem to have the best luck in the world, because it's inarizaki and karasuno who are closest to you right now. tanaka, who's in the middle of shoving three pieces of chicken into his mouth, stops mid chew, his eyes and cheeks bulging in disbelief.
"shinsuke," you hiss under your breath as you try to gently tug your wrist back. kita doesn't let go, his thumb just pressing lightly against the back of your hand to keep it still. "what are you doing? people– no, everyone– is looking."
"you used the wrong ointment for a kitchen cut," kita says, still eyeing the cut. he completely ignores the fact that almost the whole of karasuno and inarizaki have stopped talking to stare at him and you. "this is a standard plastic bandage. it breathes too much, and you didn't apply an antiseptic. i know you, y/n. the skin on your hands gets dry quickly in the winter, so if you don't treat it properly, the cut will split again when you handle the cold water bottles later."
"shin, i'm fine, really, it's just a tiny scratch," you murmur, your face burning so hot you're worried you might actually pass out right into the rice cooker. you give him a desperately pleading look, but kita's face doesn't change, remaining firm.
"it isn't just a scratch," he corrects you calmly, his dark eyes meeting yours with honesty. there's something else in there, too. "i told you yesterday that the equipment in the kitchens here are poorly maintained."
"shinsuke–"
"i have the proper medical salve and the waterproof zinc tape in my room. come with me after you finish so i can wrap it correctly." kita finishes, looking up to meet your eyes and smiling softly.
yep. dead silence follows. dead you too after that.
"in... his room?" you hear kageyama ask, holding an empty plate he's evidently already finished (no surprise there) and looking genuinely horrified, like his brain is trying to process a complex mathematical formula that doesn't make sense. (although for him.. more like an incredibly easy question). "why would l/n-san go to the inarizaki captain's room? is this a tactic to weaken our game?"
tsukishima sighs from his spot next to yamaguchi. "it's always volleyball with the king."
sugawara discreetly puts more food on tsukki's plate bc my boy needs to eat more poor guy
you're about to retort when atsumu suddenly drops his chopsticks onto his tray with a loud clatter, pointing a finger at his captain.
"aha! i knew it! i bloody knew it! you've been smellin' like this sweet floral laundry soap for months, kita-san! you've been sneaking around with her, haven't ya?!"
osamu doesn't even look up from his food, chewing slowly. "shut up, 'tsumu. everyone knew except you. you're just blind. right, sunarin?"
atsumu squawks. "oh, you–"
"wait, hold on a minute!" tanaka roars, finally swallowing his chicken and slamming his fists on the table, standing up so fast his chair screeches against the floor. "what do you mean sneaking around?! our manager? with him?! he looks like he's never broken a single rule in his entire life!"
nishinoya, who's next to him, swallows an equally as large bite of chicken and stands up as well. "we demand justice!"
sugawara is staring at you with his mouth slightly open, a slow, amused smile creeping onto his face as he puts the pieces together.
you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
you wince as you turn to look at kita, who is still holding your wrist and completely unmoved by the absolute uproar he has just caused. "shinsuke, please," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. "i thought we were going to wait until after to tell people."
kita lets go of your wrist, finally taking the rice bowl from your hands, but his expression doesn't change. "i really didn't see the purpose in making a whole grand announcement, y/n. i'm yours, and you mine, that's all that's important. i thought about it last night."
he.. kita..
fuck. could this man be any more perfect?
"besides, you're injured, and it's my responsibility as your boyfriend to make sure you are taken care of. i'm not ashamed of that fact."
kita turns his gaze to daichi, seated next to sugawara, giving your captain a polite and respectful nod. "sawamura-san. i'll ensure she returns to your share of the rooms before curfew. she requires proper attention tonight."
daichi merely blinks, left eye twitching slightly as he takes in the sheer authority radiating off the boy. "uh.. right. just... make sure she's back by then, kita-san."
"of course, good results need proper rest, after all," kita replies simply. he turns back to you, voice softening. "eat your dinner before the rice gets cold. i'll wait for you by the wash stations, okay?"
when he gets your nod, he smiles again, and walks away to join his table, leaving you standing there in shock (and fantasising about all the ways you're gonna show your gratitude to him later) while tanaka and nishinoya, the dynamic duo, weep out loud about the mole amongst them, and atsumu starts loudly demanding to know who asked out who.
you sigh and drag a weary hand down your face, knowing that the rest of this camp is going to be a very long, very loud nightmare.
but you'll have kita.
tsukishima is going to remain that one guy who's incredibly observant and a pain in our asshole for probably most of them LMAO (apart from his, of course)
taglist 01. ( to be added OR removed, fill out the tag form )
by the way neil didn't "pass away", he committed suicide. he killed himself. don't try to make it seem any kinder than it was. euphemisms have no place here and if you can't say it how it is, maybe you shouldn't be talking about it at all
Although not going by the term "asexual" yet, asexuality was spoken about alongside homosexuality as far back as the 1890s. Asexual history is just as vital to queer history as any other term and I'm so tired of watching us being treated like a new thing
— Bruce Wayne never expected to discover that his son was dating someone at one of his soccer games.
!!: fluff. 1.6k words. smitten!Damian. gn!reader but written with a fem! in mind. stablished relationship. aged up Damian. Not proofread. English is not my first language.
[dc masterlist]
The day you discovered Damian Wayne knew how to play soccer you never stopped insisting until he joined the university’s team.
He would often say that he didn't have time to play soccer with all the study you guys had to do. But you knew your boyfriends better than anyone, and he could be studying three different, very difficult, degrees at the same time and still have enough free time to play with a ball.
Damian quickly became an important player in the team, the striker. Most of the goals the team had scored this season and the last were thanks to Damian, and you were always there, like a lucky charm.
It was almost like you had an assigned seat on the bleachers now, the perfect place to see the game and admire your boyfriend. Damian already knew where to find you among the people.
However, that seat wasn’t always free. If you arrived later than usual there was a good chance that someone else had already taken it, forcing you to look for another place. Like today, for example.
When you saw the final exam schedule and realized that one of your exams clashed with the university team's most important football match, you felt like dying. You'd become a huge football fan thanks to Damian, and you loved supporting him by attending all his games. And this one, being the most important and coinciding with an exam, drove you crazy.
While your exam was halfway done, you could see from the window how the players had already appeared on the field, meaning that the match was about to start, and you weren’t there.
You had told Damian, he understood, of course, but he was missing you. Standing on the field, next to his teammates, waiting for the game to start and not having you on the bleachers made him nervous, and he was never nervous when it came to soccer, but he missed his lucky charm.
You finished your exam as quickly as possible, and the teacher almost laughed when she saw how fast you gathered your things and bolted through the classroom door.
When you arrived to the field the bleachers were packed with people. Almost every student of the university was there, and almost every teacher too. You knew the people from Gotham university were passionate about their soccer.
You couldn’t find a seat, everything was occupied, so you settled with standing on the top part of the bleachers. You didn’t pay attention to who was standing next to you, when the game was on your eyes were only focused on Damian, who was now running with the ball to score their team’s second goal of the game.
“GOOOAL!!” The bleachers erupted with joy. People standing up, clapping, shouting, hugging.
2-0. Gotham University on the lead.
You were celebrating too. Clapping and shouting like the rest of the people.
Damian, while he was being congratulated by his teammates, raised his head to search for you on the bleachers.
He had a proud smile on his face from the goal, that softened when he finally spotted you on the very top part of the stands. However, his smile disappeared when he noticed his father standing right next to you.
His father, Bruce Wayne, who didn’t know Damian was in a very happy relationship with you, his classmate. A relationship that had turned a year old last week.
You were standing next to him.
Damian’s mind started filling with questions. Had you introduced yourself to Bruce? Was his father going to scold him from keeping you a secret? Were you going to kill him for not telling his father about you?
But the game wasn’t even halfway done and he needed to concentrate.
By the end of the game the score was 4-4. While Gotham University had gotten the lead at the very start, they had lost a player due to a red card, and the other team had managed to equal the score.
However, as it was the last match of the season, they had to break the tie in a penalty shootout. It was their last resort after extra time had already been played.
The penalties were tough. Gotham University didn't miss any, but the other team missed one, saved by Gotham’s goalkeeper. Now everything depended on Damian. If he scored that penalty, Gotham University would be crowned champions.
The stands were tense. The ones supporting Gotham university were holding their breaths, while the people supporting the other team were praying for Damian to miss. But Damian never missed. Because he was that good, and because you were there.
“He’s not going to miss." The man next to you said when he saw how tense you were. Your nails were digging into your hands.
“Oh, I know, he’s really good, it's just that I get nervous every time.” You let out a nervous laugh.
“Have you been to any other game?” The man asked. Damia started moving away from the ball to get a running start.
“To every single one, I often sit there,” You pointed to your usual seat, which was now occupied by a girl. “Gotta support my boyfriend.”
He nodded and you glanced at him, but not closely enough to recognize him.
“Have you ever come to a game before, or is this your first? I think I haven’t seen you here before” You asked, looking back to the field.
“This is the first one I’ve been to since my son joined the university’s team.”
“Who’s your son?” You asked.
You knew everyone on the team, most of them from the afterparties of every match. Some of the boys were nice, the others were assholes.
“Number nine, Damian.” He answered and your entire body froze.
You didn't even react when Damian scored the penalty. You clapped slowly as the stands on the Gotham University side erupted in celebration of their immediate victory.
Now you noticed the resemblance: the man had the same eyebrows as Damian, and it was clear you were related. The man in front of you was none other than Bruce Wayne, your boyfriend's father. And since you hadn't introduced yourself, he was going to think you were rude.
So you did what seemed best: you ran. You left the stands as fast as you could and went to find Damian.
And there he was, in the middle of the field, holding the trophy, surrounded by his teammates singing a silly song they'd made up in the locker room before the game to celebrate the victory.
When he saw you approaching, he broke away from the group and walked toward you. You had a proud smile on your face that would take a while to fade. Damian was smiling too.
With the trophy in his left hand, he used his right to take you by the waist and pull you toward him.
“Congratulations, my love.” You smiled, wrapped your arms around his neck, not even caring of how sweaty he was, and kissed him.
He melted into the kiss, savoring the victory and the feeling of having you with him. For Damian the post-game kiss was far better than any trophy.
“How did your exam go, Beloved?” He asked when you pulled away.
“I did it as best and as fast as I could.” You answered.
He hummed and gave you a sweet but short kiss on your neck.
Bruce, who had come down the bleachers to congratulate his son, had seen the whole interaction between you and Damian.
He had waited for you to have your romantic moment, but seeing how strangely in love Damian looked, he realized that if he didn't make his presence noticeable then you two could go on like this forever. And Bruce wanted answers.
He cleared his throat. This made Damian look up, seeing his father standing a few feet away from you two.
“Father.”
“You played wonderfully today, Damian, congratulations!” Bruce said, approaching with a proud and happy smile. “Now, would you mind explaining?”
Your cheeks were flushed, and you lowered your gaze, avoiding Bruce’s. Damian looked at his father and then at you. “Thanks, Father, but it was an easy game.”
Bruce stayed quiet, waiting for his son to start explaining about his secret relationship.
“I think you two have already met.” Damian said, remembering you had been standing next to his father during the game.
“Indeed.” Bruce nodded.
“We’re a couple. We’ve been together for a year.”
Bruce would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt to discover his youngest son had been dating someone for a year without telling him. He expected something like that from Jason, but not Damian.
“Well then, It’s a pleasure to finally meet you…” Bruce extended his hand for you to take.
You told him your name and shook his hand shyly. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Wayne.”
“I don’t want to bother you two, I’ll be going now. Congratulations son, I’m proud of you.” Bruce smiled at Damian and patted him on the shoulder. But, before leaving he turned to you. “We’ll be expecting you next week for dinner.”
Once Bruce had left, Damian rolled his eyes. “Great, now you’ll have to meet the entire family.” The sarcasm in his voice was sharp.
You let out a sweet giggle and kissed him on the cheek. “ Don’t be dramatic, It can’t be that bad.”
You really didn't know what you were getting yourself into. But you loved Damian, and if dating him meant dealing with a strange family, a single billionaire father, and lots of siblings, then so be it.
Headcanon that when someone gets injured during a fight, (the clearly underaged) Robin at the time sometimes run into the nearest convenience store and buys vodka to clean the wound~
Imagine.......When Dick is Robin, he gets into a fight with a group of gangsters, and a civilian gets injured. Panicking, Dick runs into the nearest convenience store, looking for something to clean the wound with. Naturally, the workers are very confused as to why a little boy in a brightly coloured costume is attempting to buy a bottle of vodka. They eventually sell it to him on the grounds of "Batman would probably beat us into a pulp if we said no."
Over the years, this happens several more times, even continuing whenever there's a new Robin. Convenience store workers in Gotham have gotten so used to brightly coloured children coming in and purchasing alcohol that when a new person starts working at one of the stores, no one even thinks to explain what the hell is going on.
---
Store Manager: —and last but not least, remember to ask for an ID before selling alcohol to anyone who might be underage.
New Employee: understood.
Robin: *enters, in full costume and covered in blood. walks to the back on the store, before returning and placing a bottle of vodka on the counter with a thud*
Store Manager: *immediately begins ringing him up*
Store Manager, smiling: that'll be $20.
Robin: *hands over the money and leaves with his bottle of vodka*
New Employee: ...
New Employee: ......
New Employee: ........that was a child. That was a child in a Halloween costume. You just sold alcohol to a child in a Halloween costume.
Store Manager: oh yeah, that's Robin. We don't actually know how old he is.
it’s a known fact by both you and tsukishima, that he absolutely loves your hair.
even though he won’t say it out loud, there’s enough signs to prove it.
he really, really likes having his hands in your hair. always finding excuse after excuse just to touch it.
stuff like, ‘there’s something in your hair’ when in reality there’s literally nothing in your hair, just so he has the chance to run his fingers through your hair to get the supposed ‘something’ out.
and also, whenever you hug him, one of his hands naturally gravitates towards your head, his lanky fingers running through your soft strands.
he’s obsessed with your hair, it’s so soft to the touch, always smells heavenly, it’s perfect to run his hands through after a long day.
and you’ve noticed how much he likes it, he isn’t exactly slick about it.
recently, he’s been asking to comb your hair after a shower, dry it for you, since he knows how exhausting it can get, holding your arms above your head for too long at a time.
and he never does stuff like that.
he’s always yammering on about ‘aren’t you so ‘independent’? why don’t you do it yourself.’ when you ask him to grab the chocolate bar on the high shelf.
and yes he’ll eventually grab it for you after half an hour, saying he’s tired of your whining and useless attempts at reaching the shelf.
so him asking to do something for you, is new, and it’s really odd. but you can’t exactly complain.
a/n: this is so short and not my best work but i needed to get this out of my drafts
currently thinking about a Bruce Wayne who somehow manages to last well into adulthood before finally having to get his wisdom teeth removed, and when he does he is left high as a kite in Alfred's care, except Alfred then has to leave for some reason and it takes him a good twenty minutes to do the genuinely difficult mental math on which of the kids he should call and trust to take over on babysitting duty without pulling some bullshit while Bruce is vulnerable.
his first thought is Tim, until he remembers all the shit Bruce put Tim through under the excuse of 'training exercises' during the dark era, and he can't risk that 3-seconds-away-from-becoming-a-villain seventeen year old seeing a drugged up Batman and deciding 'ok my turn'.
his second thought is Jason except no it's not, not a chance, absolutely the fuck not, moving on,
third thought is Dick, but Dick has a childish streak in him and is the one that treats Bruce the most like a partner rather than a guardian figure. that's dangerous. if Dick's in a bemused and bored mood then there's a very good chance Bruce will end up naked on a raft in the middle of Gotham harbour while Dick livestreams from the bridge above.
so the final decision ends up being Damian. still young, yes, but also the most proud of his position as Bruce's son. Alfred comes to the conclusion that Damian wouldn't pull anything too bad because, well, it would reflect badly on his own family line. so he calls Damian out of school and asks him to watch his father for the night, and then he leaves only minorly worried. unfortunately for Alfred, Damian is thirteen years old and currently experimenting with the freedom that comes with not being a public heir to the Demon's Head, because as Jason told him, 'he needs to learn to fuck about without being paranoid about the consequences of his actions'.
Damian proceeds to put Bruce in the batsuit and set him loose in Gotham just to See What Happens. Bruce has to wake up the next day to footage all over the internet of 'Batman's drunken speedrun of Gotham while Robin holds him via toddler-backpack-leash', and for a split-second he genuinely considers sending Damian back to the league. Damian's brothers have never been more proud.
No thoughts just Damian complaining about the chatter of guests at some event and wanting to go into a corner to play his game on his switch or something and Bruce is usually OK with that but he didn't bring any headphones so he calls the nearest Bat to bring some. Cue Tim who decides to be a shit, dropping off those cat ear headphones in blush pink and innocently stating that he had to borrow them from Cass. Damian doesn't take offense, "The pink will alert the surrounding people that I am not to be disturbed and cats have excellent hearing, do they not? These are adequate." So Damian wears them and then starts wearing they everywhere he doesn't want to be disturbed. And everyone assumes it's a sensory thing but he's in fact listening to a podcast about his favourite manga and it's all going well until Talia calls up Bruce and demands to know why he's attempting to replace her as Damian's mother? Bruce is confused because it's 9am in the morning and he's just woken up but Selina, who is next to him, takes the phone and tells Talia that since she took Jason that time, this is fucking payback. Cue the most peaceful war that either woman has ever been involved in, supplying the Bat Kids with LOA and cat related clothing.
— Jason isn't going to let Damian lose the love of his life.
!!: long drabble (1.3k words. lol). fem!reader. No use of y/n. hurt/comfort. not proofread. reader has a cat. found this completely finished in my drafts. Idk why I didn't posted it before, but here it is, since I don't have time to write new things now.
[dc masterlist]
Damian Wayne didn’t cry. At least not in front of people. No matter the situation, no one had or will ever see a single tear falling from his eyes.
No one had heard him either. No sob, or complain. Never.
Damian Wayne didn’t cry, except he did.
He did with you. Whenever you would hug him tightly enough for him to feel covered and protected. Whenever you let him rest next to you after a really hard day. Whenever he felt useless, a burden or a disappointment. You were his safe person, and he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to put his guard down.
And he cried because of you. He cried alone, in his room, when he made his final decision. He cried, with Titus on his lap, once you left the place. He cried remembering your sad eyes —wide with surprise, and holding back tears—while he talked. He remembered how your lip trembled while trying to form a smile, despite the sadness and the heartbreak that was suffocating you.
He cried, and no one listened.
“Are you dying in there, kid?”
Except Jason.
It was not usual to have Jason around the manor. If he ever dared to step a foot in Bruce’s floor, it would only be the batcave’s. He wasn’t expected, nor neglected. If he wanted to appear he was going to be welcomed, because he was still part of the family.
Jason stopped hearing Damian’s sobs, that was when he knocked again.
“Look Damian, I don’t want to kick down the door. I heard you crying.” Jason’s voice turned harder, imposing.
Damian stayed still for a while. Tears had stopped coming down his face and his eyes had gone back to his usual sharpness, no trace of his previous sadness in them.
Damian got up and walked toward the door, but once he reached it, he stopped. His hand hovered over the doorknob, trembling slightly. Jason was on the other side. Jason had heard him crying.
It had to be Jason fucking Todd.
He had too many siblings, and it had to be Jason of them all, the one hearing him crying.
“What do you want Todd?” Damian’s voice was sharp.
He hadn't opened the door yet. He had unlocked it, but it was still closed. A barrier.
“I heard you fucking crying.” Jason’s words came covered with irony.
“Then I suggest you check your hearing, it might be deteriorating.”
“Don’t be a fucking coward and open the door.”
Damian took a deep breath and it was then when his right hand grabbed the doorknob and opened it fully, revealing Jason's board figure standing in front of the doorway.
“I wasn’t crying.” said Damian, looking at Jason dead in the eye.
“And I’m blonde. Try again.” A tiny smirk made an appearance in Jason’s lips after his comment. “What happened? Titus won’t catch the ball?”
“I suggest you check your stupid sense of humor, besides your hearing.”
Jason, who had been with his arms crossed, dropped them to his sides and balanced his weight to his other leg. Then, without saying a word, he checked both sides of the hallway before pushing Damian back inside of his room and walking in too, closing the door behind him.
“Now that we're safe from prying eyes and eavesdroppers, are you going to tell me why you were crying?” Jason’s voice turned softer, almost unrecognizable.
Damian wasn't the type to tell his problems to a family member, but he was absolutely certain that, if he had to choose, he'd go with Dick, or even Tim, but never Jason.
“I already told you, I wasn’t crying.” He insisted.
Jason clicked his tongue. “I’m not fucking dumb, I’m sure as hell the sobbing wasn’t Titus.”
Damian’s gaze remained defiant. Jason’s posture never wavered, standing tall and stubborn.
“If you are worried I will tell someone, then I can assure you I won’t.” Jason claimed.
“Yes. I was crying.” Damian muttered.
“Prloblems in paradise?”
Jason was only trying to lighten the mood, but Damian’s silence told him the answer to his very stupid question.
“Did something happen between you two?”
“It is none of your concern, Todd.” Damian looked away for the first time, walking towards the window.
“Were you crying because of her?”
Yes. Yes, he was. He was crying because he had broken up with you. Despite loving you with his heart and soul, he had let go from the most beautiful part of his life, you.
And he had hurt you in the process.
But it was for the best. Because you couldn’t be safe with him. Not while he was Robin and you were just a civilian living in Gotham city and dating the son of a billionaire. You were an easy target, the perfect target. He just wanted to fix that.
“We broke up.” Damian said dryly. He didn’t want to talk to Jason about it, he didn’t want to talk to anyone about the break up.
“No.”
Damian turned around instantly to look at Jason.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean ‘no’.” Jason didn't move. He stood in the middle of Damian’s room, looking dead in the eye to the stubborn 17-year-old boy in front of him. “You can’t just break up with her.”
“I can. It’s my relationship, not yours. The decision is mine.”
“Why did you even break up with her?”
Damian swallowed. Suddenly, the reason he had, which made perfect sense before, sounded stupid to say out loud, to Jason.
“To keep her safe.”
“Bullshit.” Jason’s response came almost instantly, as soon as Damian had finished his sentence. “You can’t just break up with her, she’s the love of your life.”
“I’m seventeen. You really need to stop reading romance novels.”
“Damian, I’ve never sensed any positive feelings in you. I hardly believe you even have a heart.”
“That makes two of us.”
“But the only time I’ve seen you happy was with her, and your pets, but specifically her.”
Jason was right. You were his everything. You were the love of his life. Even if he thought Jason was stupid for saying such a phrase, even if he thought he was too young to even determine that. He loved you deeply, and maybe he had been wrong.
“Apologize to her. Tell her how stupid you had been.” Jason said.
“I would like to know which book that quote was from.”
“Go to her fucking house or I’m kidnapping her and bringing her here myself.”
Jason wouldn't do that, but with Red Hood, you never know.
It was nearly midnight when you heard a knock at your window. You had been crying the entire day in your room. Your eyes were dry and red. Your cat hadn’t left your side and was now curled in your chest, purring while you pet him.
You hesitated, not sure if opening the window was a wise decision. But still you did. Because part of you wished it was Damian. Because you hoped to see him again, to talk again and try.
Your cat jumped off the bed once you stood up. Once you were in front of the glass you didn't see anything. Not a person, nor a shadow. It wasn’t until you fully opened the window, and Gotham’s cold spring breeze made your body shiver, that you heard his voice.
“I’m sorry, Beloved.”
And there, to your right, in your livingroom’s balcony, was Damian Wayne, suited up as Robin, waiting for you. To apologize, to fight back, to make amends for his mistake, to take you back, if you allowed him.
He was there for you, because he loved you, and you did too.
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