Damian had never been one for soft words or easy affection. Cold and distant, he had spent his life focusing on duty and responsibility. Even as a father, he believed in strict discipline and demanding excellence. He didn't have time for this, his job was to protect the will of his mother at the League of Assassins, and as the grandson of the Demon's Head, he had a posture to hold. He's a strict father, he agrees, an ass of a father that grounded you for even rolling your eyes at him specifically. To the others? He sincerely couldn't care less.

And yet, when it came to caring for you, he'd always struggle. It was tough even to admit he fell for someone let alone have a kid. He was training you physically and mentally, properly, unlike the abusive methods in his childhood but he expected nothing but the best from you, he wanted you to be the highlight, not average. The best.

"Ow," You widened your eyes when you noticed that you had accidentally cut the girl's arm that was sparing with you, it was bleeding. But when you were just about to apologize, you paused, she was the one who allowed her guard down. Like your father mentioned. It's not your fault.

You left the room silently, forgetting about it as the day passed. Later, you were passing in front of your father's leader room. Surprisingly, he was there, "Come here," Damian's tone was as cold as ever when he called you over. Despite his usual stern demeanor, you found yourself bracing for something worse than usual.

As you approached him, you noticed his sharp eyes studying you intently, his arms casually crossed on the table. It was clear he was about to say something you wouldn't enjoy. "Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. His voice was eerily calm, masking his annoyance. Slowly, you sat down, waiting for the impending lecture.