(Btw this ࣪˖➹﹑is my cat) ࣪English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. Also I don’t write smut only fluff and a bit angst.
Feel free to send me ideas or suggestions by klicking this tired kitty ⟢ /ᐠ > ˕ <マ
Here is my c.ai cat ⟢ (•˕ •マ╮ᕤ
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Stories:
Aged up!Damian Wayne/ al ghul x fem!reader
M.Lists:
⛧ Tim Drake x Bernard Dowd x fem!reader ⛧
✦ Tim Drake x Mutant fem!reader ✦
༒︎ Aged up!Damian Wayne/al ghul x fem! Pet store!reader ༒︎
࿈ Aged up!Damian Wayne/al ghul x fem! Depressed! Reader ࿈
Ok you’re definitely not gonna believe this but it’s 100% true.
I was reading your series w/ Damian (super good by the way I love it) like it was the last thing I read before bed last night
Then today, a stray cat ran to me from across the street for no reason and tried to go home with me. A bird sat on my chair at a cafe. And then an actual live wild bunny was crossing the road (blind with sickness) and just let me pick it up, sat on my lap all tame even though it was definitely wild, and let me take it home to clean it up before letting it free in an area near my house with wild rabbits
Is this the craziest coincidence EVER or is your fic enchanted or something?!! Is this a Teen Beach Movie situation or what?!
awww that is so cute and like I definitely need spells and stuff to post that because my internet connection that day was shhhhhiiiit like girl why do schools always have the worst internet? So like I know I should be studying because my first final is next week but I just can’t you know like when you want to do something but you know you can’t do that and then you’re just paralysed somehow ? And then you’re sitting there and start crying because you feel bad because you can’t pit and you’re useless? If you get you get it
anyway this is me rn because someone actually messaged me and told me the story is good
I just posted the first chapter of the story that I’m writing on. It’s not a fanfic more like just an idea I had and the story I built around that or more like the story that I’m building. and it eventually Wlw so If you don’t like that kindly go away because no one Is forcing you to read this and no one needs hate comments
Which was embarrassing because Dick’s entire personality was being underestimated right before causing problems.
⸻
Three days later, Dick found himself standing outside the pet store with Haley sitting patiently beside him.
The three-legged pitbull wore a bright purple bandana.
Dick swore she looked smug.
“You know this is reconnaissance, right?” he told her.
Haley wagged.
“Not a social visit.”
More wagging.
“Absolutely not because everyone wants to know why Damian keeps thinking about a random girl.”
Haley sneezed.
Dick sighed.
“You’re useless.”
The dog disagreed.
⸻
Inside, you were kneeling on the floor near the adoption area.
A clipboard rested beside you.
A tiny three-legged kitten was currently tucked inside the neckline of your hoodie, peeking out comfortably while you sorted paperwork.
The kitten looked completely satisfied with its life choices.
You didn’t seem bothered by this arrangement at all.
Dick noticed that before anything else.
Normal people didn’t sit on shelter floors organizing files while a kitten treated them like a portable apartment.
Then again, you weren’t exactly normal.
Not that he knew why.
Just…
Different.
Gentle.
The kind of gentle that couldn’t be faked.
The bell over the door chimed.
“Welcome in,” you called automatically without looking up.
Haley froze.
Then immediately dragged Dick across the store.
“Damn it,” Dick muttered.
The pitbull practically power-walked toward you.
You finally looked up.
“Oh!”
Your face brightened instantly.
Not because of Dick.
Because of Haley.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Dick watched Haley absolutely melt.
The dog reached you and immediately pressed her head against your shoulder.
The traitorous beast looked one tail wag away from filing adoption paperwork.
You laughed softly and scratched behind Haley’s ears.
“Oh my goodness.”
More tail wagging.
“You’re adorable.”
Dick blinked.
Because Haley wasn’t usually adorable.
Haley was a seventy-pound tank who occasionally forgot she only had three legs and attempted parkour.
Yet here she was acting like a puppy.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
You glanced up.
“Oh, sorry. Did you need help finding something?”
Dick nearly laughed.
No recognition whatsoever.
None.
Not Nightwing.
Not billionaire Bruce Wayne’s eldest son.
Nothing.
Just another customer.
It was honestly refreshing.
“A few things,” Dick answered.
“Dog supplies?”
You looked at Haley.
Then at the basket in his hand.
Then back at Haley.
“Definitely dog supplies.”
Dick grinned.
“That obvious?”
“A little.”
The kitten chose that moment to stick its tiny head farther out of your hoodie.
Dick stared.
The kitten stared back.
“Is that cat living in your shirt?”
You looked down.
“Oh.”
The kitten blinked innocently.
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“She’s recovering.”
“Inside your hoodie?”
“She likes it there.”
Dick laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Okay.
Now he understood why Damian found you interesting.
Most people reacted to the Wayne family.
You reacted to animals.
Entirely different thing.
⸻
Twenty minutes later Dick was still there.
Not because he needed supplies.
Because he was observing.
For science.
Definitely science.
You were helping an elderly customer pick cat food.
Then comforting a nervous rescue dog.
Then answering questions about bird care.
Every animal in the building seemed magnetically drawn to you.
Including Haley.
Especially Haley.
The pitbull had abandoned Dick completely.
She now sat beside you like a furry bodyguard.
“Wow,” Dick said.
You looked over.
“What?”
“I think my dog likes you more than me.”
Haley leaned harder against you.
“Aw.”
“See? That’s hurtful.”
You smiled.
“You’ll survive.”
Probably.
Maybe.
⸻
An hour later Dick finally headed home.
Haley looked genuinely offended about leaving.
The dog spent the entire car ride staring out the window like she’d been separated from her soulmate.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Haley ignored him.
⸻
Wayne Manor
8:17 PM
Dick walked into the kitchen.
Immediately every head turned.
Like sharks smelling blood.
Jason nearly fell off a chair.
“Well?”
Steph pointed dramatically.
“Report.”
Tim closed his laptop.
Cass looked curious.
Barbara’s voice came through the speakers.
Even Bruce was present.
Dick didn’t miss Damian immediately pretending not to listen.
The effort was impressive.
The success was not.
Dick sat down slowly.
“Oh.”
Everyone leaned forward.
“Oh?”
Dick grinned.
“Now I get it.”
Damian froze.
Jason pointed.
“HE SAID THE THING.”
Steph gasped.
“HE SAID THE THING.”
Dick ignored them.
“She’s nice.”
Damian looked away.
“Groundbreaking observation.”
“No seriously.”
Dick laughed.
“She’s genuinely nice.”
Silence.
That got everyone’s attention.
Because Dick rarely said things like that.
“Animals love her,” he continued.
“Haley fell in love immediately.”
Damian muttered something under his breath.
Dick definitely heard “traitor.”
“She carries injured animals around like it’s completely normal.”
“She brought a rabbit to campus,” Duke contributed.
“See?”
Dick pointed.
“Exactly.”
Steph grinned.
“Oh, he’s doomed.”
Damian looked horrified.
“I’m not doomed.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Barbara laughed through the speakers.
“What was she like?”
Dick considered.
Then smiled.
“Lonely.”
The room quieted.
Damian’s eyes lifted immediately.
Dick noticed.
So did everyone else.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
“She doesn’t seem to realize it,” Dick continued. “But she looked lonely.”
For some reason that made Damian’s jaw tighten.
Just slightly.
Only his family would notice.
Unfortunately for him—
His family noticed everything.
Jason smirked.
“Oh, you’re definitely doomed.”
Damian stood.
“I’m leaving.”
Steph pointed after him.
“That’s confirmation!”
The kitchen erupted into chaos.
Upstairs, Damian closed his bedroom door and stared at the ceiling.
Downstairs, his siblings continued discussing you.
And across Gotham—
You sat in your apartment studying neuroscience notes with a three-legged kitten asleep in your lap.
Completely unaware that you had somehow become the most discussed person in Wayne Manor.
⋆⁺₊⋆———⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰———⋆⁺₊⋆
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: sadly it was the responsible thing to do and wake reader so they could get out and talk to Clark
Warnings: language?
⟣ Part eight ✦ Series Masterlist ✦ Part ten ⟢
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Eventually, even Tim Drake had to admit defeat.
The cuddle nest had been compromised.
The moment Bart Allen had breached the perimeter, the peace level had dropped by approximately ninety-seven percent.
There were now conversations happening.
Questions.
Arguments about pillow ownership.
At one point Bart had somehow convinced the space cat to sit on his head.
The cat seemed as confused by this as everyone else.
Tim opened one eye.
Then another.
Then sighed the sigh of a man accepting fate.
“Okay.”
Bart grinned.
“You love me.”
“No.”
“You tolerate me.”
“No.”
“You acknowledge my existence.”
Tim pointed.
“That’s enough.”
Bart looked delighted.
Unfortunately.
Tim carefully sat up, disentangling himself from blankets and cosmic nonsense.
Then gently nudged your shoulder.
“Hey.”
You made a sleepy noise.
The star curtain dimmed slightly.
The cat lifted its head.
Tim smiled despite himself.
“Clark’s here.”
A pause.
Another sleepy noise.
“Okay.”
“Think we should say hi.”
“…Five more minutes.”
Tim considered.
Then looked at the rest of Young Justice.
Then at Superman.
Then at Bart trying to wear the space cat like a scarf.
“…Actually no, fair point.”
A minute later, however, you finally blinked awake enough to sit up.
The cosmic curtain dissolved into drifting stars.
The mattress vanished.
Half the pillows disappeared into little bursts of starlight.
The remaining pillows simply gave up on existence.
Clark watched all of this happen.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.
⸻
About fifteen minutes later everyone was gathered properly in the common room.
No blanket nest.
No cosmic curtain.
No pillow fort.
Just conversation.
Well.
Relatively normal conversation.
Clark found you surprisingly easy to talk to.
Which somehow made everything stranger.
Because this was supposed to be the mysterious reality-warping entity that had every scientist on Earth stress-eating.
Instead—
You were asking Conner about his week.
Listening to Cassie’s story about a mission.
Politely refusing to let Tim have another coffee.
Normal.
Dangerously normal.
Clark found himself relaxing.
Then, somehow, the topic of secret identities came up.
A mistake.
A terrible mistake.
Because you immediately turned toward him.
“Can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
You tilted your head.
Genuinely curious.
“You do know the glasses don’t actually work, right?”
Silence.
Clark blinked.
“What?”
“The disguise.”
“…My disguise?”
“Yeah.”
You pointed at his face.
“The glasses.”
Conner immediately looked interested.
Bart nearly choked.
Clark laughed nervously.
“What do you mean?”
You looked completely sincere.
“You’re still obviously Clark.”
The room exploded.
Bart fell off the couch.
Cassie made a strangled noise.
Conner was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.
Clark felt twenty years of confidence evaporate.
“But—”
“The posture change helps.”
“What?”
“And the different mannerisms.”
“What?”
“The glasses don’t do much though.”
“What?!”
You looked concerned now.
“Oh.”
Clark already hated that “oh.”
“…Oh?”
“I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”
Conner physically slid off his chair.
Bart was now crying.
Tim had hidden his face behind a book and was refusing to help.
Traitor.
Absolute traitor.
⸻
An hour later, after much suffering on Clark’s part and much amusement on everyone else’s, things settled down.
You and Tim eventually retreated toward his room.
Tim carrying books.
You carrying snacks.
A completely normal couple activity.
As you disappeared down the hallway, Clark caught one last glimpse of Tim immediately leaning into your side.
Tim caught him looking.
Then pointedly shut the door.
Message received.
⸻
Several hours later—
The Watchtower.
Justice League briefing room.
Clark had returned.
The meeting was technically about unrelated matters.
Technically.
Unfortunately.
The existence of Tim’s girlfriend remained the most interesting topic in the room.
“So?” Barry asked immediately.
“You met her?”
Clark smiled slightly.
“I did.”
Half the room looked up.
Batman looked up too.
Which was much rarer.
“Well?” Hal pressed.
Clark sat down.
“She was nice.”
Batman narrowed his eyes.
That wasn’t enough information.
Clark continued.
“Very nice, actually.”
Diana looked curious.
“And?”
Clark smiled.
“And honestly… she seems exactly like Tim described.”
That got attention.
Because nobody believed Tim’s descriptions.
Not really.
Not when they involved phrases like she’s just quiet and she mostly drinks tea.
Not after watching her casually overwrite reality.
Clark shrugged.
“She genuinely seems more interested in making sure Tim eats and sleeps than doing anything with her powers.”
Barry pointed dramatically.
“I KNEW IT.”
Bruce remained suspicious.
Naturally.
Then Conner entered.
A terrible development.
Because Conner possessed information.
And lacked restraint.
“Oh,” Conner said casually. “Did you tell them about the glasses thing?”
Clark closed his eyes.
Across the table, Diana looked interested.
Barry immediately sat up straighter.
Hal grinned.
Batman slowly looked toward Clark.
“Glasses thing?”
Clark considered fleeing.
⸻
Unfortunately.
Someone else was present.
Barbara Gordon.
Who had been quietly working nearby.
Listening.
Like the information predator she was.
The moment she heard the story—
Her phone appeared.
The Batfamily group chat opened.
And she typed.
Oracle: Clark met her.
Three seconds.
Nothing.
Then:
Nightwing: ????
Spoiler: WHAT
Red Hood: EXCUSE ME
Signal: THE SUPERMAN???
Robin: Explain.
Barbara smiled.
And continued typing.
Oracle: They talked for over an hour.
The group chat exploded.
Messages flew by so fast they blurred.
Nightwing: HE GOT TO MEET HER BEFORE US???
Red Hood: THIS IS FAVORITISM
Spoiler: TIM HAS BEEN HIDING HER FOR MONTHS
Signal: HOW DID CLARK UNLOCK THIS ACHIEVEMENT
Robin: Unacceptable.
Barbara added one final message.
Oracle: She also told Clark the glasses don’t work.
Silence.
A beat.
Then:
Nightwing: SHE WHAT
Red Hood: OH MY GOD
Spoiler: SHE SAID IT
Signal: SHE ACTUALLY SAID IT
Robin: Finally. Someone had the courage.
Barbara laughed.
Across the room, Bruce’s phone vibrated.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
He looked at it once.
Saw the rapidly imploding family group chat.
Closed it immediately.
No.
Absolutely not.
He was not dealing with that tonight.
Meanwhile, far away at Mount Justice, Tim sat on his bed reading while you leaned comfortably against his shoulder.
Peaceful.
Quiet.
The way he liked it.
His phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then continuously.
Tim looked down.
The Batfamily group chat had accumulated eighty-seven messages in under two minutes.
He stared at it.
Then calmly turned his phone off.
You glanced up from your book.
“Everything okay?”
Tim immediately settled back against you.
“Perfect.”
And somewhere in Gotham, eight members of the Batfamily simultaneously became even more determined to meet the girl responsible for all of this.
Which could only end well.
Probably.
Maybe.
The odds were, admittedly, not encouraging.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
» Damian’s endless love for you so he writes and you keep everything you gives you and he mistakes it as rejection
࿈…
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ ࿈ ⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: the story I made out of this _࿈_ or Damian’s endless love for you so he writes and you keep everything you gives you and he mistakes it as rejection
Warnings: past Ed mention , SH scars , Hurt/no comfort
࿈ Masterlist ࿈ Part two »
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ ࿈ ⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃
Damian Wayne had never been good with words.
Not spoken ones, anyway.
Words on paper were different.
Paper didn’t stare back at him. It didn’t interrupt him. It didn’t force him to expose pieces of himself before he was ready.
So he wrote.
He wrote late at night at his desk with Titus sprawled across his feet.
He wrote in the barn while Bat-Cow chewed lazily nearby.
He wrote sitting cross-legged in the hay with Alfred the cat in his lap, reading entire paragraphs aloud.
“What do you think?” he would ask seriously.
The cat would blink.
“I agree.”
And then he would continue writing.
Most of the letters were about you.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just observations.
The way you tucked your hands into your sleeves.
The way your eyes softened whenever you looked at animals.
The way you always listened when other people spoke but never seemed to think anyone would want to hear you.
The way you smiled when you forgot someone was looking.
Damian noticed everything.
He always had.
And when he finally gathered enough courage, he started giving the letters to you.
Sometimes they came folded neatly.
Sometimes they were tucked inside books.
Sometimes they arrived alongside small gifts.
A silver necklace.
A fountain pen.
A pressed flower sealed between sheets of clear plastic.
A sketch of you reading.
A sketch of you laughing.
A sketch of you smiling at something outside the frame.
Every gift came with another letter.
Every letter carried pieces of him that nobody else got to see.
And every single one ended up in a wooden box beneath your bed.
Because you couldn’t throw them away.
Couldn’t display them either.
People didn’t do things like this for you.
Not really.
Not without wanting something.
Not without laughing later.
Not without eventually deciding you weren’t worth the effort.
So you stored everything carefully.
Protected it.
Preserved it.
Because one day he would want it all back.
Obviously.
Why wouldn’t he?
Eventually he’d find someone prettier.
Someone more confident.
Someone easier.
Someone who wasn’t constantly fighting the thoughts in her own head.
Someone who deserved him.
The box existed for when that happened.
Not if.
When.
⸻
Whenever things got bad, you would pull the box from beneath your bed.
Usually at night.
Usually when the familiar urge started crawling beneath your skin.
The urge to hurt yourself.
The urge to make everything stop for just a moment.
You’d sit on the floor and open the lid.
Letters.
Sketches.
Tiny gifts wrapped in tissue paper.
Evidence that someone had cared.
Even if you couldn’t understand why.
Sometimes you’d spend hours rereading them.
Reading the same lines over and over until the thoughts quieted.
Until you could breathe again.
Until you could convince yourself to survive one more night.
⸻
Then one day the letters stopped.
No warning.
No explanation.
Nothing.
One week passed.
Then two.
Then three.
No folded pages slipped into your books.
No awkward gifts appeared in your locker.
No sketches.
No notes.
Nothing.
You noticed immediately.
Of course you did.
But you didn’t ask.
Because asking would only confirm what you already knew.
He’d gotten bored.
He’d found someone better.
Finally realized he could do better than you.
It made sense.
Honestly, you were surprised it had taken this long.
Meanwhile, Damian was suffering through an entirely different nightmare.
Because he never saw you wearing the necklace.
Never saw you using the pen around him.
Never saw any sign that you kept the things he gave you.
And suddenly he realized something awful.
You hated them.
No.
Worse.
You hated receiving them from him.
The realization hit him like a punch.
Because if you had liked any of it—
Wouldn’t you wear the necklace?
Wouldn’t you use the pen?
Wouldn’t you mention the sketches?
Anything?
Instead you accepted everything politely and then—
Nothing.
Damian had spent weeks agonizing over the possibility before finally forcing himself to stop.
If you didn’t want his affection, then continuing would only make you uncomfortable.
So he stopped writing.
Stopped sketching.
Stopped leaving gifts.
And tried very hard not to think about how much it hurt.
⸻
You sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor.
The wooden box rested open beside you.
Tears blurred your vision.
The necklace glimmered softly beneath your lamp.
You picked it up carefully.
Polished it.
Wrapped it neatly.
Set it aside.
Then another gift.
And another.
And another.
Everything had to be perfect.
If Damian wanted everything back, you weren’t going to give him damaged goods.
Your hands shook as you sorted the letters into piles.
The oldest first.
Then the newer ones.
Chronological.
Neat.
Orderly.
Like none of it mattered.
Like every page hadn’t become something precious.
A tear splashed onto the paper.
You froze.
No.
No no no.
You wiped at it desperately.
The stain spread.
Another tear followed.
Then another.
Suddenly you couldn’t breathe.
Because this wasn’t supposed to hurt.
You had known this would happen.
Had prepared for this.
Had expected it.
So why did it feel like someone was tearing something out of your chest?
A sob escaped before you could stop it.
Then another.
And another.
Soon you were crying so hard you couldn’t see.
Letters scattered across the floor.
The necklace slipped from your fingers.
Your shoulders shook violently.
“He found someone better,” you whispered to yourself.
The words tasted like glass.
“Of course he did.”
Eventually the crying stopped.
Not because you felt better.
Because you were exhausted.
Your eyes drifted downward.
Tear stains marked several pages.
Ruined.
You ruined them.
The guilt arrived immediately.
Sharp and familiar.
Ugly.
Pathetic.
Look what you’ve done.
You can’t even keep them nice.
You always ruin everything.
You stared at your reflection in the dark window.
Dinner sat untouched downstairs.
You weren’t hungry anyway.
You needed to lose weight.
Missing one meal wouldn’t matter.
Maybe two.
Maybe three.
The thought settled comfortably beside all the others.
Punishment disguised as logic.
You carefully stacked the letters again.
Ignoring how badly your hands trembled.
Ignoring the hollow ache in your stomach.
Ignoring the way your eyes burned.
By midnight, everything was organized.
Ready to be returned.
Every letter.
Every sketch.
Every gift.
All the proof that, for a little while, someone had looked at you and seen something worth loving.
You closed the lid.
Then sat beside the box in silence.
Staring at it.
As if closing it somehow made everything inside less real.
Less painful.
Less yours.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the window.
Inside, you wrapped your arms around yourself and tried not to cry again.
And across Gotham, Damian Wayne sat at his desk with an unfinished letter in front of him.
A letter he had promised himself he wouldn’t write.
A letter addressed to you.
A letter that began with only four words.
I miss you terribly.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ ࿈ ⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
so I know there was a fanfic about Tim Bradford called ‘Tim Bradfords Princess’ and I can’t find it anymore just like the creator it was @fluentmoviequoter and when I open any links tumblr says it doesn’t exist anymore
The concept of Damian Wayne / Al ghul x reader with low self worth , depression and attachment issues
Warnings: depression, SH mentioned, attachment issues, misunderstanding, hurt/no comfort, ED
the story from this » Masterlist
↟↟𓂃 ོ ☼𓂃↟ 𖠰𓂃 ོ𓂃
☼ Damian who loves reader so dearly and feels for her like he’s only felt for his family, friends and animals before
☼ Damian who has difficulty’s expressing his emotions so he writes pages after pages sitting in his room or the barn reading the letters to his animals and asking their opinions
☼ Damian who gives those letters to reader along with small sketches or gifts like a necklace or a nice pen
☼ Reader who never felt loved and seen like this before
☼ Reader who doesn’t know what to do with all this thoughtfulness and doesn’t believe it’s real thinking it’s some cruel joke or a bet because why else would he notice her ?
☼ Reader who even after starting to believe that he truly wants to spend time with her thought she was just a pass time until he found someone more likeable
☼ Reader who keeps everything he wrote, sketched and bought for her in a box tucked away under her bed in case he wants everything back when (not if but when) he eventually leaves her
☼ Reader who definitely doesn’t look at all the sketches and pages of adoration when the thought get to loud and she wants to cut up her skin again
☼ Damian who never sees reader wearing any of his gifts and thinks that’s her way of rejecting him and stops writing her
☼ Reader who when Damian stops writing the letters is sure that he found someone better and is letting her know that shes no longer wanted and started polishing everything so she could return everything in perfect condition because surely that’s what he would want it’s not like she’d get to keep all the nice things
☼ Reader who definitely didn’t break down crying in the middle of sorting the letters to give back and then got so mad at herself for leaving tear stains on the paper that she denied herself dinner…she needed to loose a few pounds anyway
↟↟𓂃 ོ ☼𓂃↟ 𖠰𓂃 ོ𓂃
so this was kinda inspired by myself because I keep a box of like birthday cards and stuff so I have something to look at to remind me that people actually like me and don’t just pretend because they pity me
Part two?
yes pls!
god no this was horrible
Voting ended onJun 20
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: Clark comes to visit and sees an unexpected sight
Warnings: language?
⟣ Part seven ✦ Series Masterlist ✦ Part nine ⟢
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Clark Kent had come to Mount Justice for a perfectly normal reason.
Which was his first mistake.
He’d stopped by to check on Conner, say hello to the team, make sure nobody had accidentally blown up a section of the base recently.
Simple.
Reasonable.
Safe.
The universe laughed.
The Zeta Tube deposited him into the common area.
Immediately, he noticed three things.
First:
Conner was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
Second:
Cassie was taking pictures.
Third:
Bart Allen was repeatedly running face-first into what appeared to be a curtain made of literal stars.
Clark blinked.
“…What.”
Nobody answered.
Because Bart chose that moment to bounce off the starry barrier again.
“LET ME IN.”
Boing.
The curtain rippled.
Bart bounced backward.
“LET ME HAVE THE COSMIC CUDDLES.”
Boing.
Clark stared.
The curtain stared back.
Or at least it felt like it did.
“Conner.”
Conner wiped tears from his eyes.
“Dad.”
“What am I looking at?”
Conner pointed.
“Tim.”
Clark looked.
And finally noticed the corner.
Someone—almost certainly not Tim—had transformed an entire section of Mount Justice into a nest.
There was no better word for it.
Blankets.
Pillows.
More blankets.
A suspicious number of pillows.
A mattress that definitely had not existed earlier.
And over all of it hung a shimmering veil of starlight and drifting nebulae that formed a curtain separating the little space from the rest of reality.
Inside—
Tim was asleep.
Deeply asleep.
Curled up beneath a mountain of blankets.
You were beside him, equally comfortable, one arm loosely around his shoulders.
Neither of you appeared remotely concerned about the outside world.
A cat made entirely of stars and swirling galaxies purred beside you.
Not near you.
Beside you.
Like it belonged there.
Like cosmic entities occasionally deciding to become cats was a normal thing that happened.
Clark stared.
The cat looked up.
Its eyes contained entire galaxies.
Then it yawned.
A tiny constellation fell out and vanished before hitting the floor.
Clark decided not to think about that.
It seemed safer.
Cassie snapped another picture.
“Diana is never going to believe this.”
“She absolutely will,” Conner said. “That’s the problem.”
Bart hit the barrier again.
Boing.
“WHY DOES TIM GET THE SPACE CAT.”
The cat opened one eye.
Bart immediately froze.
The eye contained what appeared to be three supernovas.
The cat blinked.
Bart slowly stepped back.
“…Never mind.”
Clark rubbed his face.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Three hours,” Cassie answered.
“Three and a half,” Bart corrected.
“Three hours and twenty-two minutes,” Conner said.
Clark wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned that all three had different measurements.
Then again, this was Young Justice.
They probably had spreadsheets.
The star curtain shimmered slightly.
Inside, Tim shifted.
Instinctively, he moved closer to you in his sleep.
The cosmic cat responded by scooting closer too.
The entire team collectively made the same noise.
“Awwww.”
Tim remained blissfully unconscious.
Clark stared.
Red Robin.
Master detective.
Paranoid strategist.
Conspiracy enthusiast.
Currently functioning as a very affectionate burrito.
The universe was strange.
Conner noticed Clark’s expression.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“That was basically my reaction too.”
Cassie pointed toward the curtain.
“You should’ve seen him when she arrived.”
Clark was afraid to ask.
Unfortunately.
“What happened?”
The entire team lit up.
Bart practically teleported beside him.
“Okay so first she stole his coffee—”
“Again,” Conner added.
“Then she fed him actual food—”
“He complained the whole time.”
“Then she sat down—”
“Then Tim immediately migrated.”
Clark blinked.
“…Migrated.”
“Like a bird.”
“Or a sleepy cat.”
“Mostly a sleepy cat.”
Clark looked back at the nest.
Unfortunately.
That was an accurate description.
The star curtain suddenly shifted.
Everyone froze.
Inside, you had apparently woken up.
You looked toward the gathered group.
Then toward Bart.
Who immediately straightened.
Hope returned to his eyes.
“Can I come in?”
The question echoed through the room.
Everyone waited.
You considered.
Then smiled.
The curtain opened slightly.
Bart gasped.
The way ancient explorers must have reacted upon discovering new continents.
Without hesitation he sprinted forward.
The moment he crossed the threshold—
The curtain snapped shut behind him.
Silence.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
“DIBS ON A PILLOW.”
“That’s my pillow.”
“YOU HAVE EIGHTEEN PILLOWS.”
“I need them.”
“You physically don’t.”
“I emotionally do.”
Clark heard you laugh.
Bart immediately sounded delighted.
Conner groaned.
“Great.”
Cassie sighed.
“We’ve lost him.”
The cosmic cat stretched lazily and draped itself halfway across Bart.
Bart made a sound of pure joy.
“Oh my god.”
Clark watched all this unfold.
The nest.
The curtain.
The space cat.
The blankets.
The reality-warping girl who could probably rearrange the universe but instead appeared to be using her abilities to create maximum comfort.
And Tim.
Still asleep through most of it.
Clark found himself smiling despite everything.
For months the League had worried.
Analyzed.
Prepared.
Debated.
Threat assessments.
Power scales.
Contingency plans.
And yet every time he actually encountered evidence of you…
It looked less like a cosmic crisis.
And more like someone quietly taking care of people.
Clark glanced at Conner.
“She seems nice.”
Conner laughed.
“That’s what makes this whole thing so weird.”
Inside the curtain, Tim finally woke up enough to notice there was now a Bart Allen in his cuddle nest.
“…Why.”
“Friendship.”
“Leave.”
“No.”
The argument continued.
The cosmic cat purred louder.
And somewhere in the vast machinery of reality, probability itself accepted defeat.
Because apparently one of the most powerful beings in existence had decided her primary use of unlimited cosmic power was creating blanket forts and making sure Tim Drake got enough sleep.
The stars, against all reason, seemed perfectly content with that arrangement.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Damian had heard it all growing up. He was labelled a thousand things before he'd even turned 13. He had assumed he'd gotten over it. Had thicker skin years later now than when he was a child. But times like this reminded him that not all wounds had healed all the way through.
He was sure the journalist hadn't meant much by it. It was just routine questions and trying to do small talk and failing. And you- you, his angel, his beloved- Had noticed how Damian had become even more stiff than usual when the journalist had asked that question.
"With the wedding prep underway, how do you feel about Mr Wayne's public image?" He had asked.
"What do you mean?" You had smiled, Damian's hand had been on your back and it had clenched.
"Oh, you know-" The journalist had laughed as if he was in on it. "That he's spoiled, arrogant, angry- All that."
You eyes had widened at the audacity. "When he was... 10 and had to move across continents?" You asked. "I mean- Even a grown person would find it hard to adjust to the Gotham life." You explained. "To go from being basically a prince to being just a son of a rich man."
"Of course, of course!" The journalist had nodded, scribbling down. "So- You're not worried about his tendencies resurfacing at all?"
You swallowed, you didn't have it in you to answer these politely. And Damian was rigid. His eyes had glazed over. You smiled and excused the two of you, and led him to the privacy of one of the many rooms in the manor.
"Babe- You alright?" You asked carefully.
"Yes- Yes- I'm fine. I just- I need a moment." Damian took deep breaths and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes until he saw stars.
You didn't push him to answer. You watched him try to calm himself down as you stood in silence, leaning against the door.
"He said it so casually." He said after a few minutes. "Like he was just stating facts." He exhaled deeply and came to stand next to you, staring up at the ceiling.
"Babe..." You frowned, turning to cup his face and caressing his cheeks.
He melted instantly then sighed again. "They aren't wrong- I was all of that but no one ever mentions the context or my age." He turned his face a little to kiss your palm. He paused then looked at you. There it was. Insecurity. "Do you-" His voice wavered. "Do you think that what I was- Do you think it'll impact our marriage?" His voice came out in a shaky whisper.
You smiled and shook your head. "Not even a little bit." He kissed his cheek. "And if I'd met you back then, I know I would've fallen for you still."
"No, you wouldn't have." He said almost too quickly. "I- I was not a nice person to be around." You laughed a little. "It's true." He frowned.
"You were also ten and your whole world had been flipped." You reminded him, pulling him in for a hug that he instantly gave into.
"Sometimes I forget." He whispered, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. "That even though I was a master assassin, I was a child first."
Summery: they meet again on campus and talk and are interrupted two times
Warnings: loneliness
⊰ Part one ༒Masterlist༒︎ Part three ⊱
⋆⁺₊⋆———⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰———⋆⁺₊⋆
University campuses were strange.
Too loud.
Too crowded.
Too many people pretending not to stare at each other while secretly staring at everyone.
You sat beneath a large oak tree near the neuroscience building with your lunch balanced beside you and a tiny white bunny tucked safely inside the pocket of your oversized hoodie.
Only its little nose poked out.
You tore off another piece of cucumber and held it down carefully.
“There you go, sweetheart.”
The bunny accepted the offering with tiny enthusiastic bites.
You smiled softly.
This part of the day was usually peaceful.
Usually.
Around you, groups of students laughed together across picnic blankets and outdoor tables. People talked about parties, exams, relationships, professors they hated.
Normal things.
You tried normal things.
You really did.
The first week of classes you’d invited a girl from biology to lunch.
The girl said yes.
Then you waited alone for forty minutes before spotting her across campus eating with other friends.
Another time you’d offered to help someone study for an exam.
He’d agreed enthusiastically.
Then blocked your number the next day.
After enough versions of that, eventually “sitting alone” became easier to call a choice.
Even if it wasn’t.
The bunny climbed farther out of your hoodie pocket, tiny paws against your arm.
“You’re enough company,” you murmured quietly.
“People usually say that about dogs.”
Your entire body startled.
Damian stood a few feet away holding a coffee in one hand and looking unfairly composed in black clothes yet again.
No Titus this time.
Which honestly made him somehow more dangerous.
You blinked up at him.
“You walk weirdly quiet.”
“You’re inattentive.”
“I was feeding a rabbit.”
“That is not an explanation.”
He glanced down at the bunny currently halfway inside your sleeve.
“…Why do you have a rabbit?”
“She was abandoned near the shelter.”
“You brought her to class?”
“She’s small.”
“That’s your defense?”
“She fits in my pocket.”
Damian stared at your hoodie.
Then at the rabbit.
Then back at you.
“…That may be the most ridiculous sentence I’ve heard this week.”
The bunny sneezed.
You held her closer protectively.
“Don’t judge her.”
“I’m judging you.”
“You came over here voluntarily.”
A pause.
“…Fair.”
Before you could respond, several girls walking nearby suddenly slowed.
One whispered something excitedly.
Another fixed her hair.
You watched in confusion as they all immediately changed direction toward Damian.
Oh.
Right.
Pretty privilege.
One girl smiled brightly.
“Damian! We missed you at the gala Saturday.”
“I was occupied.”
“You should come with us later! We’re grabbing drinks after class.”
“No.”
Not rude.
Not apologetic either.
Just flat rejection.
The girls looked disappointed but continued lingering anyway.
You quietly returned to feeding the bunny.
You were used to becoming invisible once prettier people arrived.
It was easier that way.
But then—
“Move.”
The word cut cleanly through the group.
The girls blinked.
Damian looked annoyed now.
“I’m speaking with someone.”
One of them finally noticed you sitting there.
Her expression shifted immediately.
Dismissive.
Like you were furniture.
“Oh,” the girl said. “Sorry.”
They walked away soon after.
You stared at your cucumber slices.
“You know they were talking to you because they like you, right?”
“Yes.”
“You dismissed them kind of fast.”
“They were irritating.”
You snorted softly.
“Must be hard.”
“It is.”
“You poor thing.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
You were teasing him again.
Interesting.
Damian sat beside you without asking.
Not close enough to touch.
Close enough to feel intentional.
“You’re alone again,” he observed.
You shrugged.
“I like quiet.”
Lie.
He could tell immediately.
Unfortunately for you, Damian Wayne had been trained since childhood to notice microexpressions, heartbeat shifts, tension changes, eye movement—
And you looked lonely.
Not pathetic.
Not desperate.
Just quietly disappointed in a way that irritated him for reasons he couldn’t explain.
“You attempted socialization,” he said suddenly.
You blinked.
“What?”
“With classmates.”
“…How do you know that?”
“You have the expression of someone expecting rejection before it happens.”
That hit way too accurately.
You looked away quickly.
The bunny crawled into your lap fully now.
Damian watched you stroke its tiny ears with absurd gentleness.
“You should stop trying with people who don’t value your company.”
You laughed softly without humor.
“That sounds emotionally healthy.”
“It’s efficient.”
“You really do solve everything like a military commander.”
“It works.”
“Does it?”
That made him go still.
For a second neither spoke.
Students continued moving around them in noisy waves while the breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
Damian noticed stupid things around you.
The way animals relaxed instantly around you.
How softly you spoke to living things like they were fragile treasures.
How different you felt from everyone else around him.
“Damian.”
A familiar voice interrupted.
Duke walked across the lawn carrying books under one arm before stopping abruptly.
His eyes flicked between Damian.
Then you.
Then the rabbit.
“…What am I looking at?”
“A bunny,” you answered helpfully.
Duke snorted.
Damian looked deeply unimpressed.
“You’re staring,” Damian said.
“Because you’re sitting under a tree talking to a girl.”
“And?”
“And you hate people.”
“I do not.”
Duke stared at him.
“Okay,” he corrected. “I hate most people.”
“There it is.”
You hid a smile behind your water bottle.
Duke noticed immediately.
Then he noticed something worse.
Damian noticed you smiling too.
Oh.
Oh this was hilarious.
“So,” Duke said casually, “you got a name?”
You introduced yourself.
“Duke.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” His grin widened slowly. “You should know this is the calmest I’ve ever seen him on campus.”
Damian looked murderous instantly.
“Leave.”
“No, no, this is fascinating.”
“Duke.”
“You voluntarily approached someone during lunch break. Do you understand how insane that is?”
You looked between them.
“He came over here because of the bunny probably.”
“I absolutely did not.”
Duke almost choked.
You blinked.
Damian looked like he wanted both of you dead.
Interesting afternoon overall.
⸻
By the time Damian returned to the manor later that evening, he already knew he’d made a mistake speaking to Duke.
Because the moment he walked into the kitchen—
Every single person looked up.
Waiting.
Dick grinned first.
“So.”
Damian turned around immediately.
Too late.
Jason physically blocked the doorway holding a soda.
“Absolutely not. Get back here, Romeo.”
“I will stab you.”
“Aw,” Steph said from the counter. “He’s defensive. That means it’s serious.”
“It is not serious,” Damian snapped.
Tim looked up from his laptop with exhausted delight.
“Duke said you approached a girl willingly.”
“She had a rabbit,” Damian said flatly.
The entire room went silent.
Then Dick burst out laughing.
“A rabbit?” Steph wheezed.
Jason looked devastated.
“That’s somehow worse.”
“She carries it in her hoodie pocket,” Damian muttered before realizing too late that volunteering additional information was catastrophic.
The room erupted.
“Oh my God,” Barbara laughed through the comms speaker.
“You noticed the hoodie pocket?” Tim asked.
Damian’s soul briefly left his body.
Cass tilted her head thoughtfully before signing toward Steph.
Steph immediately gasped.
“Cass says you like her because animals trust her.”
“I do not like anyone.”
“Titus likes her too,” Duke added cheerfully.
Damian glared at him with enough force to kill lesser men.
Dick leaned forward against the table with the most irritating older brother smile imaginable.
“So when are we meeting her?”
“Never.”
“Damn,” Jason said. “He’s gone gone.”
Damian left the kitchen before homicide became unavoidable.
Unfortunately—
As he walked upstairs, Titus immediately lifted his head from the couch.
Then looked behind Damian expectantly.
Waiting for you.
Traitor.
⋆⁺₊⋆———⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰———⋆⁺₊⋆
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: Damian and his girlfriend have a talk about her going vegan
Warnings: past Ed mention , SH scars , allergies
↟↟𓂃 ོ ☼𓂃↟ 𖠰𓂃 ོ𓂃
The barn smelled like hay, cedar, and the faint earthy warmth of animals settling down for the evening. Rain tapped softly against the roof overhead while the golden lantern near the stall cast everything in a sleepy amber glow.
Bat-Cow lazily chewed beside them, entirely unbothered by the world.
Damian sat on an overturned feed bucket with one arm resting over his knee while you leaned against a stack of hay bales nearby. Goliath had practically folded his massive body around your feet, his scaled tail twitching occasionally while Alfred the cat occupied your lap like he owned it.
Which, honestly, he probably thought he did.
Alfred purred loudly as he pressed his face against your forearm, grooming absentmindedly along the faint scars there. Goliath nudged your shoulder a second later, demanding attention too.
“You’ve spoiled them,” Damian said flatly.
You blinked at him innocently. “I think they spoil me.”
“That is objectively false.”
But there was no bite behind it.
Not when he was looking at you like that.
Damian rarely softened for people. Most of the world got sharp edges and guarded eyes, but you had somehow slipped through every defense he’d ever built without even trying. Around you, he spoke quieter. Sat closer. Let silence exist without needing to fill it.
It irritated him a little.
Which probably meant he loved you.
Alfred climbed higher into your lap, purring like a tiny engine while you scratched gently behind his ears.
Damian watched the motion for a moment before speaking again.
“You know,” he started casually, “you’d probably adapt well to being vegan.”
You looked over. “Hm?”
“You care about animals. You already avoid most meat when you can.” He shrugged slightly. “It seems logical.”
The words weren’t pushy. Just honest. Curious.
Still, you immediately looked down at Alfred.
“Oh.”
Damian’s expression sharpened instantly.
That tiny sound told him enough.
You rubbed your thumb nervously against Alfred’s fur. “I… um…”
Your shoulders drew inward slightly, embarrassment warming your face.
“I can’t really do vegan.”
Damian frowned faintly. “Why not?”
“I’m allergic to soy,” you admitted quietly. “And tofu. And a lot of the meat replacement stuff.” You gave a small awkward laugh. “Which is kind of horrible, honestly.”
“It is not horrible.”
“But it feels horrible,” you murmured.
Goliath lifted his head as if sensing the shift in your mood, immediately shoving it against your side until you smiled faintly and pet his snout.
You hesitated before continuing.
“A lot of vegan recipes make me sick or I can’t eat enough of them consistently and…” You swallowed. “With my history around food already, I can’t really restrict too much without it getting bad again.”
The barn went quiet except for the rain.
Damian’s face softened almost imperceptibly.
Not pity.
Never pity.
Just understanding.
He stood from the bucket and moved toward you, crouching down in front of where you sat in the hay. Alfred immediately abandoned your lap for Damian’s shoulder before deciding that was less comfortable and climbing back to you again.
Traitor.
“You do not need to justify eating,” Damian said calmly.
You looked away. “Still.”
“No.” His voice gentled. “Listen to me.”
You finally glanced back.
“If your body requires something, then you eat it.” His hand settled carefully over yours. “That is not weakness. Nor failure.”
Your throat tightened embarrassingly fast.
Damian noticed.
Of course he did.
“You were willing to try vegetarian,” he added quietly. “You considered it for my sake despite knowing it may be difficult for you. That already means something.”
“I just feel bad.”
“You should not.”
You gave him a tiny skeptical look. “Easy for you to say.”
“It is.” He tilted his head slightly. “Because I am correct.”
That pulled a laugh out of you.
Small.
Soft.
But real.
Damian’s expression shifted into something victorious at the sound.
“There,” he said. “Better.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you continue dating me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Hm.”
He reached up then, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with surprising tenderness. His thumb lingered briefly against your cheek.
“You know,” he said quietly, “the animals do not care whether you are vegan.”
Bat-Cow snorted as if agreeing.
You smiled.
“They care that you are gentle with them. That you are kind. That you make them feel safe.” Damian glanced toward the dragon currently curled against your legs. “Goliath trusts almost no one. Alfred actively hates most people.”
“I think Alfred just judges everyone.”
“He does.”
The cat meowed loudly as if offended.
Damian continued, softer now.
“But they love you.”
You looked down, cheeks warming.
“And,” Damian added after a pause, “so do I.”
The words settled over you gently, naturally, like they belonged there.
No dramatics.
No grand performance.
Just truth.
Your eyes immediately softened in that way they always did around him, and Damian felt his chest ache with unbearable fondness.
You leaned forward slowly until your forehead rested against his.
“I love you too.”
Behind you, Bat-Cow continued chewing hay with the emotional investment of a brick while Alfred crawled into your lap again and Goliath wrapped his tail more tightly around both of you like some massive overprotective guard dog.
Damian pretended not to notice.
But he did pull you a little closer anyway.
↟↟𓂃 ོ ☼𓂃↟ 𖠰𓂃 ོ𓂃
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
⪼ Damian goes to visit a animal shelter/ pet store and meets a rather strange girl
⚔︎ Part two
⪼ they meet again on campus and talk and are interrupted two times
⚔︎ …
⋆⁺₊⋆———⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰———⋆⁺₊⋆
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summery: Damian goes to visit a animal shelter/ pet store and meets a rather strange girl
Warnings: None
༒︎Masterlist ༒︎ Part two ⊱
⋆⁺₊⋆———⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰———⋆⁺₊⋆
The bell above the pet store door chimed softly.
You barely looked up from the clipboard in your hands. “Welcome in,” you said automatically, crouched beside a sleepy orange cat who was currently trying to chew the edge of your hoodie string.
Rain tapped gently against the front windows. The shelter side of the store smelled faintly like cedar shavings, clean laundry, and wet fur. Peaceful. Quiet for once.
Which was why the sound of heavy claws clicking against tile immediately caught your attention.
A massive black-and-brown dog trotted through the aisle with military confidence, ears perked and posture proud like he personally owned the building.
Behind him walked a boy around your age dressed in dark clothes far too expensive for a rainy Tuesday afternoon at a pet store.
Pretty.
Annoyingly pretty.
Sharp green eyes. Black hair. Expression like he’d rather be anywhere else.
The dog ignored every display and every person in the store until he reached you.
Then he sat directly beside you.
You blinked.
“Well hello to you too.”
The dog stared at you intensely.
The boy stopped a few feet away. “Titus,” he said flatly. “Heel.”
Titus did not move.
You reached up carefully, giving the dog a gentle scratch behind the ears. “You’re gorgeous.”
To your surprise, Titus huffed happily and leaned his huge head against your shoulder.
The silence that followed felt… loaded.
When you glanced up, the stranger was staring.
Not casually either.
Actually staring.
“…What?” you asked.
“That’s unusual.”
“What is?”
“He dislikes most people touching him.”
“Oh.” You looked back at Titus, who looked devastatingly pleased with himself. “Maybe he just has good taste.”
The boy’s mouth twitched very slightly.
Not quite a smile.
More like his face forgot not to.
You returned your attention to the clipboard. “Can I help you find anything?”
“I already know what I need.”
“Okay.”
Another silence.
Most customers filled silences by talking too much. You preferred this version honestly.
The stranger continued watching you like you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.
Finally he spoke again. “You don’t know who I am.”
It wasn’t a question.
You looked up slowly. “Should I?”
That actually caught him off guard.
Not dramatically. Just enough for the tiniest pause.
“…No,” he answered after a moment.
“Okay then.”
You stood, brushing cat fur from your jeans. Your eyes flicked toward the shopping basket in his hand.
“Cat food’s aisle four. Reptile supplies are in the back. Bird feed’s near the registers.”
“You memorized the entire store layout?”
“I work here.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
You shrugged lightly. “I like organizing things.”
The boy studied you another second before turning away.
Titus remained planted beside you.
“Titus,” the boy repeated.
The dog looked at him.
Then looked away.
You snorted before you could stop yourself.
The stranger narrowed his eyes slightly. “You find this amusing?”
“A little.”
“You shouldn’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Titus pressed closer against your leg in betrayal of all canine professionalism.
For the first time, the boy looked genuinely irritated.
“You’ve known her for twelve seconds,” he muttered to the dog.
You crouched again to pet Titus properly, fingers smoothing through thick fur. The dog practically melted.
“You’re such a baby,” you whispered.
The boy heard it.
His expression became deeply offended on Titus’s behalf.
“He is highly trained.”
“He can be highly trained and a baby.”
“He is not—”
Titus rolled onto his back.
You looked up innocently.
“…Sure,” you said.
A dangerous silence followed.
Then unexpectedly—
The boy laughed.
Brief.
Quiet.
Like it surprised him too.
You blinked at him.
Because wow.
That changed his whole face.
He noticed you staring and immediately went cold again. “Don’t make a habit of it.”
“Of what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Never mind.”
He grabbed a bag of dog food from a nearby shelf with unnecessary precision.
You hid a tiny smile.
Weirdly intense rich boy.
You liked Titus more.
A few minutes later, you were restocking canned food near the adoption area when you noticed him again.
Not shopping.
Watching the cats.
Or more specifically—
Watching you with the cats.
A tiny three-legged kitten had climbed directly into your hoodie pocket while you worked.
“You know,” the boy said suddenly from behind you, “most people would remove the animal.”
You glanced down at the kitten currently asleep against your stomach.
“She seems comfortable.”
“She’s using you as furniture.”
“That’s okay.”
“You let animals do whatever they want?”
“Pretty much.”
“That sounds inefficient.”
You finally looked at him fully. “You sound like you’ve never relaxed a day in your life.”
Another pause.
“…Probably not,” he admitted.
There was no arrogance in it.
Just fact.
Something about that answer tugged unexpectedly at your chest.
Before you could think of something to say, the store manager called from the front.
“Could you grab the extra forms from storage?”
“Yeah!”
You handed the clipboard off and started toward the back room before stopping beside him.
“You should get your dog one of the blueberry treats near checkout,” you said seriously. “He likes them.”
“You know that after meeting him once?”
“He has the face of a dog who likes blueberries.”
“That is not scientific.”
“I’m a neuroscience major, not a veterinarian.”
That finally earned you a real reaction.
His eyes sharpened with interest. “You study neuroscience?”
“Mhm.”
“Where?”
You told him.
“Impressive program.”
You shrugged awkwardly. Compliments always made you feel like someone handed you a live grenade.
The boy noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“You dislike praise,” he observed.
“You dislike people.”
“I dislike incompetence.”
“That sounds lonelier.”
His gaze locked onto yours.
For one strange second the entire noisy store seemed quieter.
Still.
Then Titus barked once, shattering it.
The boy exhaled softly through his nose. “I should leave before my dog decides he lives here.”
“He kind of already does emotionally.”
Titus wagged his tail.
Traitor.
The stranger picked up his bags and headed toward the register before pausing.
“…Damian,” he said without turning around.
You blinked.
“What?”
“My name.”
Oh.
You told him yours.
“I know.”
That was vaguely ominous.
Before you could ask what that meant, he walked toward checkout with Titus beside him.
Halfway there, Titus looked back at you.
You waved.
The dog immediately tried to return to you.
Damian physically dragged him away.
And for some reason—
Watching that made you smile for the rest of your shift.
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again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
