“Im The Blood Born Son”

𝟷𝟼+ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

🍀𝔸𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕖❥ 19 𝕊𝕙𝕖/𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪. ℍ𝕀𝕊ℙ𝔸ℕ𝕀C

🌸𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 one, Masterlist two , Masterlist three?

Request are now open!!!

Request I’m Working on……

Damian Wayne x shy!Reader (one shot)

Damian Wayne x Goth!Reader (Headcannon)

Reader finding out he’s Robin (one shot) (part 1?)

He’s in love! But doesn’t realize it…

My personal work….

New Year’s resolution

Snow day….

Late night chaos

Unnamed one shot

Honeymoon night

In every universe…

That’s includes me too.

Damian forgot how to draw.

His mind goes blank as he stares at the blank piece of paper in front of him, lying flat on his wooden desk in his room.

His eyes drift off to the set of pens.

The ones you have gotten him.

He recalls the memory.

The way you looked at him, eyes so bright they could have brightened up a dark room. Cheeks slightly blushed, smile widened far too much. Finger tips brush lightly against each other as you hand him the pens; the tips of his fingers still tingle even hours later.

“These are for you!” You pull out a pack of colorful pens, handing them to him with a grin painted on your face.

He takes a glance at them and is hesitant for a moment—before he takes them from your hand.

Finger tips brushing against each others.

“What’s this for?” He questioned softly, fingers grazing over the plastic gently.

“Well, you mentioned the other day your pens were running out of ink, and how you don’t have time to go get some more,” you nod at him softly, “so I went to the store and got them for you”

He groans to himself, and the feeling in his stomach returns. Damian leans back against the chair, his hand runs over his face— palm pressed up against his lips, fingers digging softly in his cheek. Green eyes glare down at the white paper as if it had cursed his entire bloodline.

“If you can’t draw anything, write something down! The first thing that comes to mind and draws based on that—it always helps me!”

He reaches for the pens, rough fingers gripping the plastic container—almost ripping it as he opens it.

Damian picks a random color, takes the lid off, and throws it at someone on his desk. shoulders relaxed as he leaned down only slightly.

“The first thing that comes to mind….” He repeats softly.

His hand speaks for him, almost like a reflex.

And his hand comes to a complete stop, his eyes widen slightly.

Written is cursive, elegant, and carefully written in a perfect straight line, and written in bold—underlined at that.

Your name.

He lets out a sigh, head falling to his hands dramatically. He could have thought about anything: his family, his pets, literally anything.

And your name was the very first thing he thought of. You name hunts the back of his mind constantly, whether you're present or not, it lingers—and it irritates him.

Damian knows about the weird feeling in his gut. Dick talks about it when it comes to Kori, and that scares him.

He stares at your name that he had written, despite everything—every weird feeling that lingers longer when you're around, he’ll admit…

Your name looks beautiful written on a piece of paper.

Especially when he was the one who wrote it.

(Also looking forward to the shy reader and honeymoon night fics tehe)

AWWW IM GLAD YOU LIKE THEMMM😘😘

I genuinely forgot all about my wip stuff. It’s literally collecting dust in my draft 🧍‍♀️

You two are both oblivious.

Or maybe you two choose to ignore it.

Everybody can see it.

The way Damian looks at you, eyes clouded with adoration and yearning. His hardened eyes softened when they landed on your figure; they lit up softly when you entered a room. You notice it every time.

He stares until your eyes catch his, breaking out in a grin as you make a beeline straight to him.

It’s almost natural—you being by his side 24/7. His family says nothing; maybe Jason and Tim say things under their breaths (it doesn’t bother you or Damian); everyone has grown used to it.

You're so attentive when it comes to Damian; you remember everything about him down to the T, and He’s quick to catch it. When you would bring him his favorite candy at times, or when you would mention a Shojo manga he was currently reading.

Sometimes he would wait by the front door of the manor—waiting for you to knock. A part of him knew you would be coming.

And you knew he would be by the door waiting.

You two can’t explain it; there’s a soft tug on both your hearts when you're together. Not the kind that brings you pain—but the kind that puts you at ease, with butterflies in your stomachs.

You know what it is, and so does he.

But neither of you decided to say anything about it.

Touches started slow and soft, linking pinkies together as you walked side by side. Those touches didn’t last long—they had turned into something more.

Fingers lace together with swaying arms, bright smiles that reach eyes, and soft rosy cheeks.

His family wasn’t the only one that noticed; the entire population of Gotham had noticed too. Rumors had spread; media pages were filled with bold headlines; people whispered to one another.

You two have a good laugh at it.

Pictures spread quickly, the most popular being you two together at a charity event his father had planned and prepared for. You two stand in the corner, almost pressed up against each other. Damian’s hand is placed firmly on your hip, while the other is shoved in his pocket. Your hand is placed on his chest while the other sneaks over—fingers brushing his. And you two are smiling, your head slightly leaning against his shoulder.

It was the most normal thing you two were caught doing.

You had seemed to tame him; his heart belonged to you, and your heart had belonged to him.

Your place in his arms had seemed right from the very beginning—it didn’t matter if you were happy or simply upset, in tears even; Damian liked it, so you won’t deny him when he opened his arms up slightly, waiting for you to crash into him.

Soft kisses had seemed to linger, never on the lips—simply too afraid to cross the line. Damian had a habit of kissing the temple or hairline. At times, his lips would reach the tips of your fingers or your palm when you would place them over his mouth.

To put himself at ease, his lips would find your heartbeat—right along your wrist. It makes your heart skip a beat, and he chuckles when he feels it against his lips.

You had a habit too—kissing his scars that paint his skin. It sends shivers down his spine, prompting him to reach for more. You have easy access to his neck, kissing along a small scar that’s visible to your eyes. You tell him you can feel his heartbeat slightly, and he tells you you’re hallucinating as he turns away.

Whether you two decided to be friends or lovers, it didn’t matter; labels weren’t either of your guys' things.

But in everyone’s eyes, you two were soulmates.

“Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?”

The sudden question has Damian raise his brow, his head turning slightly towards you as he tilts it to the side in confusion. You two sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge of the building.

“What a bizarre question,” he mumbles, watching as you take a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, “what brought it up?”

“Dunno,” you shrug, placing the small cup of ice cream beside you, “I read somewhere that if you dream about someone, and they look slightly different, you’re getting a small glimpse of them from a whole different universe.”

“You dream about me?” Damian asked, stunned, mouth slightly open as he pointed at himself. He hears you hum, nodding along with a small cheeky grin on your face.

“Yeah!” You laugh, legs loving back and forth as the balls of your feet come in contact with the brick walls, “a few times actually. You were a girl in one of them. You’ll make a very pretty one by the way.”

“Oh, how lovely,” he groans, head turning to the side to avoid eye contact. His skin feels warm, and he’s sure his ears have a slightly red hue to them by now. “I assume this is something that’s been popping up on your for you page on TikTok?”

“Yep!” you nod, taking a glance at him one last time, before your eyes avert up towards the moon. To Damian, you look much more relaxed, and there’s a long pause before you continue, “I think we soulmate a little too hard in this universe, that the other universes had no choice but to make us best friends in others!”

soulmates.

Damian’s heart skips a beat at the single word.

He says nothing, eyes glancing at the side of your face as you smile up at the moon. He clears his throat softly—catching your attention. Your head snaps towards him, eyes shimmering from the moonlight. Damian finds himself smiling at you, and his fingers find yours. You don’t pull away, always giving him a confused look—smile never leaving your face as you do so.

“Is that what you truly believe?” He asked, his grip tightening slightly, no hesitation as you nod at him. Smile widened as you let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah! It’s a little crazy, but I like to believe it’s real!”

“Then I believe it too”

There will be an angsts post soon.

Trust.

Whoever you are thank you.

The green looks kinda bland in my eyes

Thoughts????

Pregnancy had affected you.

During the last two weeks at least.

Damian’s eyes are filled with nothing but adoration, watching as practically waddle around the kitchen with a spoon in your mouth, looking through the cabinets. You wear his clothes—you’ve been wearing his clothes for months now. Maternity clothes don’t do you justice, plain and ugly—so you decide the next best thing would be your husband's clothes.

You can’t remember the last time you wore something that had actually belonged to you, but Damian never complained.

He takes in your appearance, eyes sunken with tiredness eyes, dark eye bags painting under them like a canvas, hair messy—pulled up away from your face, strands of hair poking in different directions.

And to him you have never looked more beautiful.

“What are you up to?” Damian whispers, loud enough for you to hear, soft enough so he won’t startle you. He leans against the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest.

You don’t look up, eyes trained on the stove below and the pan that holds two eggs; there are two pieces of toast on the counter. “The baby’s hungry again. Chocolate and eggs seemed to be a good combo for him.”

“Him?” He questions, right eyebrow raised slightly with a small smile painted on his face.

“Yes, him” you hum “it’s a boy, I know it”

You beamed at him, smiling as you turned to glance at him for a second before tuning your gaze back at the cooking eggs. He hums, pushing himself off the doorway. Damian makes his way towards you. From behind his arms find their way around your way, warm hands place on the roundness of your belly. He hears you sigh, leaning up against his back.

“What makes you say that my love?”

“He’s strong as hell in there,” you grumble out, “I can feel him kicking and punching. Strong just like his daddy, I see.”

He watches as you poke at your belly, which seems to irritate the small human growing in there. The baby kicks back, and you wince slightly. He lets out a chuckle against your ear, slightly rubbing the skin to ease the pain.

“Or strong just like her mother”

“I doubt it, I’m losing patience and irritated. This baby is way past due. And I need this little brat out now so I can finally sleep on my stomach,” You grumble out, huffing as you rub softly at your belly. Damian hums.

You place the eggs on the toast covered in chocolate spread. He takes the plate off the counter, as you turn off the stove, filling him after. Damian places the play down on the table, pulling the chair out softly as you take your seat. You scotch closer, and your husband takes the seat right next to yours.

“It’s been almost two weeks, hasn’t it?” he says, referring to your statement from earlier

“It feels like it’s been two years,” you huff out “I feel like a whale”

He leans over, gently wiping away the chocolate stain from the corner of your lips with his thumb. “Don’t say that, beloved, you looks stunning”

“You’re my husband. You’re supposed to say things like that to make me feel better.”

“Husband or not, I’m not lying,” he smiles, eyes filled with love. You doubt him for a second—eyebrow raised in question, “ cross my heart and hope to die.” He draws an imaginary X over his heart with his finger.

The conversation goes on—changing to a new topic, still bringing the overdue date of your unborn child into question.

“I read somewhere that sex induces labor,” you say, not a single trace of embarrassment laced in your voice. “We could try that later tonight”

“Pardon?”

“Ah I’m sorry if you’re not comfortable with it. I can try something else.” You laugh nervously, being silly that Damian would ever agree to something like this.

“I’ll be more than happy to help you. If sex is something you want to try, I’ll agree.”

“Are you sure?”

“You are my wife,” he says. He reaches over and finds your hand, his thumb softly gliding over your knuckles. “It’s my duty, as your husband, to help you anyway shape or form. If this is something you believe will truly help you, I will not throw a fit over it.”

You stare up at him, eyes searching for any discomfort he may show. But there was nothing. Your face feels warm, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

This did something to you.

You raptly get up from your seat, chair scraping up against the wooden kitchen floors. Damon startles, his hand still attached to yours, eyes widen in shock.

“Then let’s go!”

“Now?!” You tug him up with the little strength you have. Damian is pushing himself up quickly. “Are you certain? This is all so sudden”

“Yes, now take of your clothes.

A trail of clothes left behind.

Damian truly believes that a happy marriage is one where a husband obliges to their wife—even with sudden requests as this one.

Damian yearns for a little girl…..