Angst Damian Wayne One Shots

Burning Bridges

The storm inside Damian Wayne had been building for weeks. It was subtle at first, creeping in like the autumn chill that rolled in through Gotham City, unnoticed until it cut through the air. At first, it was just a sense of restlessness, a constant nagging feeling that something was wrong. But soon, it became more than just a feeling—it became rage.

Damian had always struggled with control. Raised in the League of Assassins, discipline had been drilled into him from the moment he could walk. But control wasn't the same as peace, and for as long as Damian could remember, peace had been a foreign concept. Even after joining his father, Bruce Wayne, as Robin, the tension within him had never truly gone away. It lingered, like a shadow that followed him everywhere, always just beneath the surface.

At first, he had believed that working with his father—being Robin—would fill the void. It was, after all, what he was meant to do. He was the heir to two legacies: the Wayne legacy and the League of Assassins. But as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Damian realized that being Robin wasn't enough. No matter how many criminals he helped put behind bars, no matter how many missions he completed, the emptiness remained.

It was a cold, hollow ache in his chest that nothing could seem to heal. And as it grew, so did his frustration with everyone around him.

Bruce, for all his efforts to be a father, still kept his emotional distance. Damian knew that Bruce cared for him, but caring wasn't enough. His father's version of love was cold and stoic, hidden behind layers of responsibility and the mission to protect Gotham. There was no warmth, no comfort in their relationship—only expectations. Damian had to be strong, capable, and above all, perfect. Anything less was failure.

Then there was Dick Grayson, the first Robin, who always seemed to have everything together. Dick's easy smile, his natural leadership, and the way everyone looked up to him only made Damian feel more isolated. Damian knew he would never live up to that. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't Dick, and he never would be.

And finally, there was Alfred, the family's butler and caretaker. Alfred, who always seemed to know the right thing to say, the right way to guide Bruce, Dick, and even Damian himself. But even Alfred couldn't reach Damian now. No one could.

The anger started small—a biting comment here, a slammed door there. But soon it escalated. Damian lashed out at everyone, his words sharp and cutting, designed to push them away. He didn't know why he was doing it exactly, but deep down, it was as if he needed to test them, to see if they would still stand by him, no matter how far he pushed.

"You're being reckless," Bruce had said one night after Damian had gone out on patrol and taken unnecessary risks.

Damian had just scoffed, glaring up at his father with defiance burning in his eyes. "Maybe if you actually cared about me instead of your precious mission, I wouldn't be so reckless."

Bruce had stared at him, his jaw tight, but he didn't say anything. He never did. He just let Damian's words hang in the air like smoke, unresolved and heavy.

And that was the problem. No one fought back. No one pushed him hard enough to break through the walls he was building around himself. Bruce would offer stern warnings, Dick would try to make jokes to lighten the mood, and Alfred... Alfred would just give him that disappointed look, like he expected better of him but wouldn't say it aloud.

It only fueled Damian's anger further.

One night, after another heated argument with Bruce over a botched mission, Damian stormed out of Wayne Manor, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't control. His fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, and his heart pounded with frustration and rage. He needed to get away, to escape the suffocating expectations, the constant disappointment, the feeling that no matter what he did, it would never be enough.