|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

Balance: The Prequel | Damian Wayne x Reader

Description: One of the many things that set you and Selina apart was the strict difference in moral focus; Selina did everything she did for herself and the rare few close to her, while you did what you did for the people, even if only certain people knew that.

Request: i'd like to request a prequel (or even a continuation) of your damian x cat/batgirl!reader story! i really like their dynamic and i'd like to read more about them. you can take it anyway you please i just enjoy your writing

Words: 5250 (don't judge my love for Damian Wayne, he is my husband)

Notes: Yo, so I love the idea of prequels? I love how prequels end? I don't know why... I just do. It's like fitting in the finale piece of a puzzle, or maybe putting in the finale pieces of the side of a puzzle and seeing the complete image, even if you already kinda know what it is. =D

_

Bruce said to keep an eye on her, just in case her activities at Gotham Academy weren't strictly academic. The task was easy enough; no one questioned when his eyes followed her form around the room, as most thought that he just had a crush. But Damian Wayne didn't have a crush on Y/N L/N—AKA the thief Catgirl—and he never would.

It is a little surprising, just how normal your life is. You had friends at your school. None of which knew your identity, as no one in the school beside him and you did. You were a dedicated student, something that Damian wasn't shocked by. You always seemed to be more intelligent than you let on during your battles, especially in the little ways you tricked him, and the home-made gadgets he'd find when he tried to arrest you. Emphasis on the word tried. Often, you were too fast or too clever, and he would make the mistake of underestimating you. Damian doesn't know that he's making this mistake at this very moment.

The bell chimes and your teacher dismisses the class. You are one of the last to leave, collecting your binder and pencil case, running your tongue over your lips as you reviewed that day's lesson in your mind. Damian's eyes are automatically drawn to the action. You smile and take off to your locker, and he swallows absentmindedly as your long legs disappear around the corner.

Okay, so maybe he did have a little bit of a crush on you—no, no, that's not the right word... he was certainly attracted to you, for he's felt those lips against his own, ran his hands down and around those hips, sought the touch of those claws. These memories only seem to romanticize your presence, as Damian is sure the uniform skirt isn't as short as your gorgeous legs make them out to be. He growled at himself for staring and rushed over to return his books to his locker; he had P.E. next, the class in which his skills were the most valuable—your skills too, meaning this class is the only possible way of uncovering your real identity. For no one "without training" could hit a ball so hard or fold their body that way.

Lately, he had taken to noticing that you seemed off. Your smile never quite met your eyes, and you had stopped participating in class. He immediately informed his father when he demanded a regular update on the villain, and Bruce mentioned that Selina had said you were going through a "funk that you couldn't quite shake". With some digging, Damian knew what this
"funk" was.

One of the many things that set you and Selina apart was the strict difference in moral focus; Selina did everything she did for herself and the rare few close to her, while you did what you did for the people, even if only certain people knew that.

"Y'know, I'm the one out of the two of us who should really be called "Robin"," You told him,"Because I steal from the rich and give to the poor. Like Robin Hood."

Damian could admire that in you. The best way to catch you after a heist was to find you on the streets of the Narrows, handing out stolen jewels and valuables to the families that needed it. Selina usually scolded you, claiming that you should have kept your winnings, but you never could. It didn't seem right, but thievery was your only way to be Catgirl. And Catgirl was your outlet, your escape from reality and into the fantasy world you had always wanted to live in. Damian could understand that—he never felt quite him out of costume.