hi i’d love an a/b/o au for nascent i’m absolutely in love with these characters and would love to see them in this universe pls pls pls
Once, Damian Wayne had cared about the topic of second genders.
Back when he did not just consider himself simply a son of his father. Back when being heir apparent and young emperor of the League of Shadows was his title, his life, and his purpose. Back when Damian was proud to have the blood of al Ghul running through his veins, when he was groomed from birth to grave to be the greatest assassin, the greatest leader, and eventual conqueror of this world and the next over. Back when the scent of blood was comfort and the easy grip of metal between his fingertips was the same as holding a fork, raising a gun to someone’s temple or slicing through bone and flesh like cutting weeds.
The idea of second genders was just a small addition to that grand scheme.
His mother was an alpha. His father was an alpha. His grandfather as well. Strong blood ran through their veins, dominant blood that was groomed and inherently bred to conquer and control. Alphas stood at the top of the hierarchy and living up to inherit this gene seemed only second nature on his quest toward the top. His mother had taught it to him, simple.
“Omegas are at the bottom,” Talia said. “They are weak and must be protected by nature. They are of little threat to you aside from the power their own instincts may have over you. You will train to combat this. To be above your natural instincts so as not to fall prey to an omega’s whims. Their best purpose is for breeding, but you must not cast them aside. Any threat is available in any shadow, no matter how weak.”
Betas were the general population. The normal. Insignificant. Betas could try and fight but odds were they would never hold a candle to danger in his life. Other alphas, however, were his greatest concern. People genetically on level with his own status, but not level with his skill, his grit, his everything. He would make sure of that.
Damian attended his lessons, understood the properties, trained to hone in his own pheromones and senses, remained rigorous against the omegas his mother would bring into the temple to train him how to combat their own advances, remain calm and lucid even under the most powerful scents.
Damian presented young—at nine compared to the usual ten to twelve. His mother did not praise him, simply nodded, satisfied. Being born an alpha was the least he should be able to do. She’d kill him otherwise.
Second genders were simply a small addition to his life, they were nothing in the bigger picture, just as always.
And then his life changed.
“Justice, not vengeance.”
His life with his father changed him. His life with them changed him. These long, age-old beliefs of second genders were not...erased, but Damian learned to adapt and tweak the small bits his mother had instilled into him with an iron grip. Betas were still subpar, he still stood at the top of the food chain, and omegas were minute concerns.
Grayson was the only exception. Drake lived up perfectly to the beta ideal of not enough compared to his own skills. Grayson, however, had come across to him as nothing but pure alpha material and had still revealed himself to be nothing more than a humble beta. He was the anomaly, and he made Damian rethink his own earlier thoughts on what it meant to be a beta, to be anything in this world.
“Why weren’t you born an alpha?”
Grayson smiled, bright blue eyes shining.
“Does it matter?”
Todd was the only one of his predecessors to have presented as an alpha, but he was a dark, complicated stain and unwinding thread in the history of Robins that still brought a quiet look to his father’s face, and Damian usually preferred not to have much to do with him. Given the nature of that half-dead idiot, Alfred had said he was never one to care much about being an alpha or otherwise.
En route to becoming a hero, not quite washing the blood from his hands, never anything as easy as that, but on his way to trying to never have blood on his hands again—Damian was confronted with a force far more dangerous than anything he had ever faced before.
“Hiya! You’ve got pretty eyes—wanna play the piano with me?”
Pandora Jayes, stupid, strange, bright-eyed and horribly… cheerful, ten-years old, sweet smelling (he figured it was the nature of her home, a bakery) always… smiling, that strange, strange girl, and currently unpresented.
Pandora Jayes, after trial and error, after time, time, and time, after being with him, slipping her tiny fingers into cracks no one else should have fit into, politely leaving her shoes outside his chest before slipping into his heart—Pandora Jayes, his precious, precious friend.
In all their time together, she never asked what his second gender was.
Soft blue eyes, like frost, thin slabs of rounded ice that always looked so warm. They blinked at him, curious. A warm sweater hugged her shoulders, mottled brown hair pulled away from her face into a small braid that curled over her neck. Her beaming smile, even when he wasn’t doing a damn thing.
“Well, that stuff’s not even important,” Pandora sniffed the air experimentally. “You’re a big strong alpha, sure. But who cares about that?”
Her stupid grin.
“You’re Dam.”
Not Damian, conqueror of worlds. Not Wayne. Not Robin. Not alpha. Not anyone else.
Just him.
Throughout their years together, Pandora’s unpresented state worked as a strange sort of time bomb for his nerves. Yes, with Pandora, Damian had begun to wrap his head around a different notion of second genders, one he’d never quite considered before—a lack of thinking about them. And yes, he did not care about what Pandora would present as, he would find… favorable thoughts of her regardless. He was Dam, she was Pandora.
Mine. A quiet, rippling growl in the far, far, abyss of his chest. It pressed against his throat sometimes, threatening to intoxicate the air. My Pandora. My beloved.
Damian Wayne had been trained in his youth to be able to press and control his pheromones better than anything else. He knew how to use his scent, heavy and powerful to his advantage and he knew when to tamper it down onto a tight lid.
...sure, on the occasion, the rare occasion, when sweet-smelling, soft, warm Pandora beside him… happened to spur a scenting or two, then by all means. Pandora did not mind, so there was no problem if he was rolling his fingers against the barely noticeable scent glands on her wrists. Pandora didn’t seem to mind or notice otherwise unless that stupid Mary happened to complain about how Pandora reeked of him. That was perfectly fine, in his opinion. Pandora was his. She should smell like him.
Pandora’s scent didn’t stick long. He could barely catch it on his clothes or against his skin, sniffing in vain and ignoring a faintly bemused Alfred. Because she hadn’t presented, it had little power or effect.
Damian would often find himself pressing his face into the crook of her neck, waiting there, wondering as Pandora babbled on and on beside him.
At fifteen years old, Pandora had yet to present.
It wasn’t particularly uncommon, but it wasn’t normal either. Most presented by twelve, but the latest account of presenting occurred somewhere at eighteen. He could not quite imagine what it would be like to wait three more years to know the turn Pandora’s scent would take, the way her body might shift, the small turn of those eyes and the way—
Lucy Jayes was a beta. He did not know what Pandora’s father was but she said she thought alpha. Odds were Pandora herself would present as a beta. It only made sense.
And yet…
There was something to Pandora’s scent that always tugged at his senses, pressed hard at his throat and flooded his chest. A promise in her scent. A promise he wanted to see fulfilled. Damian Wayne was a man with many secrets and while he bared many openly to Pandora the same way she bared her heart so kindly to him—so good, so good, just the way it should be, that’s it—there were some… occasional musings Damian found himself considering.
Yes, he would love Pandora no matter what. Yes, no matter how she presented, she would remain by his side, that would never ever change. Never. Never. Never. A fiercer voice growled, snarling and fangs bared to the world.
But there were moments. Slim, small moment where Damian allowed himself to wonder, eyes drifting to the smooth skin of Pandora’s neck. About a Pandora with a certain scent. A Pandora with the ability to meet his own a way only two bodies could. A Pandora whose neck would allow his fangs to sink in, to forge and uphold the promise he wanted to exist. A Pandora who—
Was an omega.
Damian Wayne no longer believed omegas were to be protected. They were not spineless, crawling beings. They were people, one in the same, he was wrong to have ever thought otherwise. And while he knew better than to live into stereotypes and prejudice, he couldn’t help but imagine, that soft Pandora, a Pandora as an omega would fit so… so right.
“I’ll just be a beta,” Pandora said, licking her lips as they shared another cone of ice cream. He watched the action in slow fascination. “No biggie. Presenting as an omega isn’t bad, but it’s too much work.”
No. A quiet, low growl in his chest. You’ll be perfect.
“Whatever you are,” Damian said, raising his voice above the growl. “You will be perfect.”
Pandora flushed, looking stupidly pleased with herself as she mumbled incoherencies at him. Damian took the moment to scent her again. She spoiled him and he refused to let her stop.
He meant it, he really did. No matter what, nothing would change the way he felt. He just… could dream, couldn’t he?
Pandora suddenly stiffened beside him. Damian paused, catching the shift in her language in a second. He raised his head from her neck, watching her face, pulling away to guage her expression. What had happened? Did she see something? “Pandora?”
“I just,” Pandora stopped. She touched her forehead, touched her neck. Sweat was beginning to gather along her brow and something was starting to stir, slow and heavy in the pit of Damian’s stomach. He gripped the bench tighter, inhaled the air, something sharp and sweet. His eyes went wide. “Yikes. I don’t feel so hot, Dam. I think—”
“Presenting?” Damian said, cutting quick.
Pandora froze, looking at him with wide eyes. “Is… you think so?”
I know so. His heart thrummed to life, steady against his chest. Damian quickly stood, dumping the cone into the trash and grabbing his coat. Pandora’s scent was growing thicker, heavier, sweeter. That low voice in his chest was beginning to growl, harder, louder.
Pandora’s eyes were round with disbelief. She was panting now, soft, quick little breaths. She kept smelling the air, rubbing her wrists, looking uncertainly at him. She rubbed her jaw. She’s not comfortable. It’s happening too fast.
I don’t want anyone else to see.
The park was practically empty. A couple sat a few benches away. Damian’s inner voice barked out a rough order.
No one else but me.
“Quickly,” Damian swallowed, hard. Calm yourself. Calm. She needs you more than anyone else right now. Get her home. Move from there. Think later, plan later. Now is just for her. Damian reached for Pandora’s wrist. “You shouldn’t be out and about—”
Slap!
For a brief second, Damian’s world came to a screeching, abrupt halt.
Pandora’s hand trembled in the air for a second, fingers shaking before they curled quickly into a tight fist. Her eyes were wide, staring at him in disbelief, one of her hands now cupped over her mouth, over her nose. Her eyes watered and—
Damian blinked, unable to process his hand hovering in the air, slapped aside and—
The scent hit him, heavy and—
Damian slapped a hand over his own nose on reflex. It came, raw and sharp, like fresh cut ginger and pure vanilla extract. But it cut into the air, sweet and forceful. There was power to it, pulsing and stinging his nose in a way he was only familiar with—
“Oh,” Pandora gasped, both her hands over her mouth, hiding what must be her now prominent fangs. “Oh. Oh, my… damn.”
It was uncharacteristic of Pandora to curse in such a manner.
What on earth?
Tentatively, unable to mistake the smell, Damian sniffed the air. He looked at Pandora as though she’d decked him across the face and told him she was running off to the League of Shadows.
Two raw, wild balls of energy pressed hard into each other. Their scents battled in a way only two similar scents could do. The low, threatening growl in his chest and the way Pandora had nearly lashed out at him.
Pandora gaped, jaw dropping and Damian almost, almost did the same.
Pandora Jayes, fifteen, his beloved, precious friend—
Had presented as an alpha.
“Scheisse,” Damian said.
- scheisse means shit in german, damian just defaulted to any random language because he’s .-. rn and pandora is :0
(I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS, THIS WAS THE TWIST I ALWAYS WANTED TO TAKE I HOPE THAT’S OKAY)
