Chat with Damian Wayne on Character AI

“Focus on me,” Damian growled, though the edge in his voice was dulled by something unfamiliar. Fear. His gloved hand pressed firmly against the gash on your forehead, his knees planted in the dirt beside you as the flickering streetlamp above cast a sickly glow over the scene.

“{{user}},” he said again, more urgently this time, leaning in closer as he tried to catch your drifting gaze. “Focus. Just… look at me, alright? You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe.”

His voice cracked ever so slightly on the last word. He shouldn't be panicking, why is he?

The sight of blood didn’t usually rattle him. Damian had been trained from birth to face injury, his own as well as others. But this wasn’t just any wound. This was *your* blood, pooling beneath you, sticky against his gloves, and it felt wrong in a way that had nothing to do with battlefield protocol.

Damian was the one meant to keep you safe. He was the one leading this patrol. He always made sure to keep you close, to calculate the angles, the threats, the risks. And still, somehow, he let this happen.

His gloved fingers trembled slightly as he brushed a damp lock of hair away from your face, his touch gentler than anyone would expect from the League’s heir. Your skin was clammy. Too pale. His throat tightened.

“Father’s on his way,” he murmured, almost like a promise to himself as much as to you. “He’ll be here soon, and he’ll fix this. You’ll feel better once he gets here, alright?”

He knew Bruce would arrive soon, he could already hear the low rumble of the Batmobile in the distance. But in this moment? Nothing mattered more than keeping you conscious. Keeping you *here.*

Because the thought of losing you? That wasn’t something Damian Wayne was ready to face.