Batboys x Reader

Love and Hate Part 1 (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Hi everyone! So, this is a special request as @Eleanor-Devitt very kindly asked me to write it for her friend. It's their birthday soon....so HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope your friend enjoys it and they have a lovely birthday. This story used prompt 6 (I told you that I'd never leave you; I'm not going anywhere.) as well as prompt 3 (I will protect you with all my life.). I love you. I appreciate you. Thank you for existing and as always remember how dope you are. XOXO

Hubun = Love

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Two Days Ago

(Y/N) Pov

Last week I received two unlabelled envelopes, the same as any random piece of junk. So, I slid the first one open nonetheless. All it contained was a simple leaf; deep summer green, finely divided and lacy. It was almost triangular, broad at the base with the tip tapering to an almost point. I knew better than to touch it. Poison Hemlock. Conium maculatum. By itself it was harmless, but it can be viewed as a threat. I open the next envelope, once again no distinguishing features and I tip the contents onto my desk. A joker card with a crappily drawn bat symbol flutters out with a note on the back "The dark night has fallen, who's next?" In a subconscious gesture of disgust my nose wrinkled and I draw my head backwards. 

"No matter how far I move away, I can't seem to get away from you," I sigh.

It's about time for a road trip...

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Time Skip To Now

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So, here I am, in a city I don't exactly belong, trying to be someone I'm not sure I want to be. If I were to go back in time and meet ten-year-old me, I'm not sure she would believe that it was me, I've changed that much. A pang of sadness washes through me as I start missing the old me again. Even if I hate the way I used to be, I miss myself. I miss the place I called home, I miss the people and the feelings I had back then. I hate it, I hate myself for this, I don't want to keep missing those days like there is nothing wrong with them. There's a lot of things that weren't how they should've been. Things I'm glad that they are finally over. But then again, why do I keep missing it? Am I really so messed up that I miss the crying days, the empty nights, the feeling of never being good enough? I don't really know. The only thing that seems clear to me is that I'm missing the person I was, even though I hated that girl I was back then.

This city was once my refuge, a place of guaranteed warmth even on the coldest of days. Although, the most beautiful of memories which I have here are my worst ones. Honestly, just being here fills me with anxiety. I want to scrub my head of my childhood, but if I did would never have learned from what happened, I'd never be as strong as I am today. Thus I keep my eyes on the horizon and my mind focused on creating a positive future.

I navigate my way through the city by intersection and aromas. Otherwise, it would be impossible to know where I am. I feel the misery which has made its home within this city. It has soaked into the sidewalk cracks and into the graffitied walls. I can't see the bright shop signs, or the buildings to orient me - only backpacks, coats and hair. With the smell of coffee, I know I need to turn right next and start to weave my way over. The crowd parts around a newspaper dispenser but I fail and am instead left smooshed up against it for a few moments. Unlike a child, there is no Mom or Dad to pull me away and instead I must inch sideways until once again I am in the current. I veer into the next street to the aroma of samosas. If I can get close enough I'll buy a few; some for lunch, some to take home. But I can't see the cart, once again I am adrift in the moving bodies. A few moments more and I am in suburbia, rows of uniform houses and neatly moved lawns, each wide avenue draped in the seasonal reds and golds. I arrive outside the Wayne Manor, ringing the bell. After a few seconds of waiting the door is opened and I am greeted by Alfred.