Could you do a scene of Damian and a younger brother reader? (If you don’t write for male readers, could you do Gn?) like Damian has always been a good strict brother, being a few years older, he’s always been there for reader. He’s in med school, studying to be a doctor , and reader always sneaks into his dorm to hang out with him and just comes visit him, or if they’re injured, he’s their doctor.
yes of course darling! i'm sorry this one is a little short; i took a few liberties with this one, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! <3
never grow up - d. wayne
dcu masterlist , main masterlist , teklarn’s cliche’s and tropes
damian wayne x littlebrother!reader
summary: choosing to pursue a career in med school, the aloof damian wayne tries to lead a normal life, until you come stumbling into his dorm dressed in the iconic Robin uniform.
UNEDITED!
Damian wakes to the sound of soft knocking. It’s coming from his window. If he was anyone else, if he’d been raised any other way, he would’ve just thought it was the bad weather. But Damian knew better than that.
And he knows who it is.
He’s hesitant to open the window at first, knowing you’re probably just there to pester. But it’s different this time. Your brows are drawn together in pain, your lips quivering, shoulders trembling from the cold.
Damian doesn’t hesitate to open the window and let you in despite the rain water you trek along his floor. He swallows his words. Doesn’t ask any questions as you slump down onto the leather chair in the corner of his room.
He simply gets to work, cutting away the thick fabric of the suit you don. The suit that everyone once donned. If Damian had it his way, he would tell you to stay out of that life. You have the privilege to choose your future, just like he did.
But he knows he’s not in a position to talk. You only wanted to be like your brother. And he’d be all for it if it wasn’t for the way his heart skipped a beat every single time he saw you in the old Robin uniform. Not that he’d ever tell you that.
His hands work nimbly as he sews careful stitches into the gash slicing across your torso. The first time he stitched you up was when you were nine. You’d been caught playing with one of Bruce’s weapons. It sliced your finger and, while you didn’t necessarily need stitches, Damian insisted on giving them to you.
It seems that times have not changed since then.
Whatever struck you didn’t cut deep enough to hit anything vital, thank goodness. But Damian is no less mad. As soon as he’s done stitching you up, he looms over you. Like father, like son.
“What. Happened.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.
You stare at him, smiling weakly. “Just…got a little carried away?” You’ve always been his opposite, cracking jokes when you shouldn’t.
Thankfully, Damian doesn’t push the subject. “You need to be more careful. I keep telling you this.” While he enjoys your visits, they’ve frequently become a substitute for hospital visits.
“I am careful,” you snap, wincing as you adjust your position on his chair. You take in the stacks of medical textbooks, the pencils neatly lined up in a row on his desk. Damian sits across from you, arms crossed, tapping a finger against his arm impatiently.
“No,” he rebukes. “You’re not.”
You huff. “It’s not like you were careful.”
“But I wasn’t careless.” Damian’s voice cuts through your attitude. He cares in such quiet ways. He’s more like Bruce than he’d like to admit. “You need to be more cautious. I’m not in med school just so I can perform surgery on you.” He goes silent for a little while. Then, “I’d rather not have to perform surgery on you at all. Ever.”
You click your tongue nonchalantly. “I get it, I get it. I’ll try to be more careful from now on.”
“I’m serious.”
Damian already doesn’t like seeing you in the Robin suit, though he’d never say it because of how hypocritical that would be. It’s obvious, anyways.
You’re so intelligent. So talented, and when you put your mind to something, there’s no stopping you. Probably what makes you such a good detective. Such a good sidekick to Bruce, too. But you’re stubborn. Not yet jaded or overly-cautious from age. You were a child.
Damian wasn’t much older, but he’d seen more than you. Accomplished more than you. That didn’t demean what you were doing right now, but he knew what was really out there.
The ‘big brother’ side of him hoped you’d never have to see what he did. That you’d spend your days fighting petty criminals thinking they’re the worst it’ll ever get.
Even now, though, he knows it’s not the truth. You’ll get beat up every single day, and despite the aches and pains that ravage your youthful body, you will always put yourself out there. Not for the sake of glory or proving you’re above someone else. Because you know the city will always need a Robin.
It’s what made you better than Damian. He’d been arrogant, just like you. But Damian didn’t have kindness to balance out his arrogance. You did. And it was your kindness that scared him the most.
When he looked at you, he only saw his little brother. Only saw the child who would cry over papercuts and throw tantrums when he couldn’t find his desired snack. You would always be his little brother, and Damian wasn’t above treating you as such.
He’d scold you as many times as he needed to. The selfish part of him silently hoped you’d never get it through your head, just so you would have a reason to keep coming back here. So Damian could care for you in the way his words would not allow him to.
“Here,” he says, handing you a tiny orange bottle from his shelf.
“What is this?” you ask, peering at it.
“Antibiotics. The cut isn’t fatal, but it is pretty nasty. If it gets infected—”
“You practically poured alcohol on it, it’s fine.”
“Let me finish. If it gets infected, both Bruce and I will kill you, got it?” More him than Bruce, but the threat still stood. “You need to take care of yourself. Take one in the morning, one with dinner.”
You shake the pills around, entertained like a child. “Don’t you need these for something? Why do you just have antibiotics lying around your room?” You give him a playful smirk.
Damian shrugs. “Because I have you around, and I need to have a contingency plan for when you’re out doing dumb shit.” He surveys you up and down. “You know, just like tonight.”
“All right, fine. You win. One in the morning, one when I have dinner.”
“Do you want me to remind you?”
You chuckle. “I’ll set an alarm on my phone.”
Damian has always been strict when it came to taking care of you. Don’t run too fast, don’t touch that knife, don’t play with the gadgets, and don't go into the Batcave alone. You brought out the better side of him. His words often came across harsher than intended, but you knew Damian always meant well.
“Don’t be an idiot about this, okay?”
You shake your head. “I won’t.” Then you tap your foot, staring at the digital clock on his desk. It was late, and knowing his insane schedule, he needed to get some sleep. Still, you missed your big brother. “Want to watch a movie?”
“I have to study.”
You roll your eyes. “Then…can I watch a movie on your computer while you study?”
Damian’s lips press into a thin line. It’s this exact moment you always think he’s going to turn away and say no. But he sighs quietly and sits at his desk. “Just make sure the volume isn’t too high. And don’t sit on my bed.”
It was nights like this that made you feel more at home in his dorm than in your own room. Nights like this reminded you no matter how old you got, no matter how many injuries you sustained, when you were with your big brother, you didn’t have to grow up.
