#damian wayne imagines

[gay-dorito-dust]

Would they or would they not catch you…

Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.

He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.

‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.

‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.

‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.

You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.

Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀

Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.

He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.

‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.

‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.

You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.

Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.

However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.

Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.

‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.

‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.

Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.

What a sweetheart.

Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.

Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”

( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)

Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.

[damianwaynewife]

*Jason falls down the stairs*

Y/n: ....

Y/n: Are the stairs okay?

Jason: ....Well damn, if you hate me, just say so

[idyllcy]

sparkling green eyes, dazzling green lines

word count: 8.8k

summary: "Habibti." The words slip past his tongue naturally as he reads the text on your wrist, and you stare up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown, fascination all over your face— you're in love with him.

حبيبتي.

You trace it on your skin each morning, gentle smile on your face, dumb like a lovesick idiot. It reminds you that you're loved, even if you have never met your soulmate, ever, in your life. Even when you didn't know, you had panicked and asked your friends if they knew what it was, in which the next seven hours after your seventh birthday was spent crowded around a computer on your iPad, trying to imitate the foreign language on your skin.

After seven hours, your mother, bless her, had noted it was in Arabic. Your father returned home shortly after, helping you translate the word.

Habibti. It meant beloved in Arabic.

Your young heart swelled as your friends gushed over it.

Beloved. Your soulmate calls you beloved at first meeting.

You had clung onto it, heart full and spinning. You told yourself that your soulmate must be a romantic just from the fact that he would call you his love first meeting. You had dreams of a fairy tale meeting, falling in front of him in the hallway during school, accidentally bumping into him while out, a stranger offering you an umbrella in the rain, the list goes on. Your friends had gotten tired of you after the second week, all of them off to find their own soulmates. You didn't know anything about him.

But the passion for finding your soulmate wears off just as fast as it had arrived, quickly realizing that you wouldn't be able to find him if you were in a town where you knew everyone. No one would call you that upon first meeting. Even if it was halfway across the world, you stopped dreaming about meeting your soulmate after you started college. If you wanted to meet him, you'd have to travel. You don't know where, but wherever you were allowed, you went. Even if it emptied your pockets and left you desperate in the streets, you had some of the best experiences of your life, all in the name of looking for your soulmate.

Even at graduation, when you're throwing your cap into the sky with your friends, wrist out for the world to see, the characters traced and colored in gold thanks to your friends, the green of the letters shimmering, you're thankful for everything you've poured your soul into. Your soulmate was someone you no longer craved, the world at your fingertips, a job in your pocket, your life set out before you. Fate was strong in your hands, another string in your life. You followed it with fervor, spinning and chasing after it with some childish will in your life.

You push everything related to your soulmate mark back when you step foot into Wayne Enterprises, nodding slowly at the three men as they welcome you to the team. You had expected the older boys, but you didn't complain. Not when Bruce Wayne himself was part of the three men.

"These are my two sons. Tim Drake, he's my third," You shake Tim's hand. "And Damian Wayne. My youngest."

You smile at him too, taking his hand.

"Habibti." The words slip past his tongue naturally as he reads the text on your wrist, and you stare up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown, fascination all over your face. Damian raises a brow at the way you react, breath catching in his throat at how enthralled you are with him, features pulled back, eyes sparkling.

"Woah." You manage, a smile breaking onto your face as the words slip past. Damian does not know you. Hell, he's just met you, yet you were staring at him as if he was your world. You had that lovesick look that he had seen on Dick's face way too many times, and he was getting a little uncomfortable. It must be some sick joke. There's no way his soulmate could look at him like that the first time they meet. Yet, as you stare into his eyes, sun sparkling in your eyes, he finds himself breathless. Shit.

Bruce clears his throat behind the two of you.

"Sorry!" You let go of Damian's hand, the loss of contact knocking the air back into his lungs. "Not many people can read my soulmate mark here in the States. I was just surprised."

"So? Is he your soulmate?" Bruce's lip quirks upward.

Damian lies through his teeth. "No. My words are different."

Tim raises a brow behind Bruce, and Damian gives him a warning look.

"Well, regardless," Bruce hums. "You'll be working closely with my two sons for the next couple of weeks. We're very interested in the medical research you conducted while an undergrad in your major, so we'd like to sponsor your research. Your updates would go to my two sons, and I'll meet with you at the end of the month to see if you need more time."

You nod. "An honor, sir."

"The honor is all ours." Tim smiles, shaking your hand.

"Damian will lead you to the lab."

You follow behind his youngest, eyes still wide, trailing behind him like a lovesick puppy. Even if he wasn't your soulmate, he had called you beloved first meeting. You were enthralled. The two of you step into the elevator, and you wait for the door to close before speaking up.

"Are we really not soulmates?" You blink at him.

He shows you his wrist, your words in brown. "We are."

"Oh." You smile at him again. Damian grimaces at how bright you are. The universe sent him a sun because he was grouchy, didn't it?

"This is the lab you'll be using. It is all yours." He hums. "Requests can be sent through the computer, just type it on the notepad."

You nod, glancing around the room, fidgeting.

"What is it?" He raises a brow.

"You're not big on soulmates, are you?" You smile apologetically.

"Not really."

"Alright. Thank you."

Damian is half expecting you to pester him to the moon and back just based on how you looked at him the first time you met. Instead, you spend most of your time holed up in the lab, desperate to replicate results from your previous study. He can't deny that his heart sours a little at how easily you respect his boundaries, but he asked for it himself, so he finds no reason to complain. Huh, he would have to register the soulmate mark with you.

He knocks on the door to your lab, silence answering him. After a couple of minutes, you open the door.

"Sorry, did I make you wait? I had to put everything back." You blink at him.

"We need to register our soulmate bond."

"Ah. Right." You furrow your brows. "When are you available?"

"Tomorrow after work."

"So like... three?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Should I meet you up at the office?"

"I will come down to find you." He glances at the way none of your hair is visible from the cap.

"Alright." You hum. "See you then."

Damian is grasping at anything he can to try and talk to you. He can't believe he's like this, lovesick like some teenager, desperate to talk to you as if you were the only person that mattered in his life. He feels like Dick. It's awful. He loosens his tie as he stands on the elevator, irritation all over his face.

"You look like shit." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Be quiet, Drake." Damian grumbles.

"Registering your soulmate bond?"

"Yeah." He mumbles. "How did your registration go?"

"Smoothly. I told you."

"If only we had met under better circumstances."

"My soulmate didn't stare at me like I was God." Tim shrugs. "Good afternoon, Mr. Strawn."

The man nods.

The two men shut up as Damian steps off at your floor.

"Hey!" You've taken off all the clothes you wear in the lab, dressed for a date. Damian wonders if he's dressed too formal for this. "I brought all my documents. Do you have yours?"

"The city hall has all of my files on hand."

"Forgot, billionaire and all that." You laugh. "Let's get going."

The two of you hitch the next ride down, Damian taking you to his car, opening your door for you, head racing.

"There is always the possibility of us being platonic soulmates." Damian finds himself speaking up as he fastens his seatbelt.

"Yeah." You purse your lips to think. "Would you be alright with that?"

"We are soulmates. The universe obviously has something planned."

"Then what if we're romantic soulmates?"

"Then I suppose we would have to try." Damian pulls out of the parking garage, handing the guard his ticket, driving off. "Are you against it?"

"Oh, definitely not." You smile. "There is no downside for me."

"Not even the public's eye?"

"I've been scrutinized by my family my whole life." You smile. "I blew all my excess scholarship money on travelling because I wanted to meet my soulmate."

"Where did you go?"

"I went to Palestine, Israel, dropped by at Dubai, Egypt, and then my friends and I drove from Istanbul all the way to Western Europe." You count on your fingers. "I had a lot of people greet us first and then notice the writing on my wrist. The emerald green really stands out. I hadn't expected..." Your voice trails off, eyes staring into his, Damian unable to stare back because of the road. "I hadn't expected your eyes to match so nicely. They're breathtaking."

"Do you speak to everyone like this?"

"No." You hum, looking back outside your window. "But I have been told I have a way with words."

"Yeah?" He stops at the red light, turning to stare at your eyes. "I wonder what your eyes look like under the sun."

"Weren't you staring at them a couple days ago?" You pull out your phone.

"That wasn't directly under the sun." He mumbles, starting the car again.

"Do you speak to everyone like this?"

"No." He breathes. "Just to you."

You try to fight the warmth spreading up your neck to your cheeks, failing miserably as you resort to hiding your face in your hand for the rest of the ride.

"Is there any specific thing we need to do?"

"My brothers mentioned that we need our words scanned, but that was it." He hums. "You have your passport and license, correct?"

"Yeah." You hum. "Is that all I need?"

"Yes." He grabs a ticket and drives down to park, the two of you getting out of his car. "Come on." He leads the way, eyes pining down the paparazzi immediately. You glance in the direction he glared, only for him to move to block you from their view. The two of you make it into the building quicker, the elevator door closing behind the two of you.

"That was?"

"Paparazzi." He fishes out his phone, making a call." Yes. May we head up immediately? We will be there."

You blink as he presses the top floor, and for a second, you understand what it's like to live as a billionaire. A single phone call puts you at priority. You shift uncomfortably when the two of you arrive at the top floor, following Damian as he steps into the mayor's room, letting you sit down first.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne." He smiles, and you detect the lack of sincerity on his face immediately. Rather, the fake smile causes you to sit straighter, a smile lacking equal truth making its way onto your face. Damian shakes the mayor's hand, sitting down as well. "What brings you here?"

"Brought my soulmate to get our mark registered." He hums. "You have all my documents, so this should be quick, correct?"

"Of course. We just need both of your words scanned, and then the soulmate's legal documents — You're quite pretty."

You smile at him, laughing lightly. "Thank you. Here's the passport."

"Not a Gotham born, eh?"

"Nope. Moved here for work."

"Do you plan on staying?"

"Well, since my soulmate is here, I don't think moving is that big of a priority right now." You hum.

"May we have your wrist?"

You hold your wrist out, scanner registering the words, and Damian does the same, your words both popping up on the screen.

"What are the characters?"

"Arabic." Your smile turns sweet, bright, even, and the words come tumbling past your lips, like you had been proud to have those as your words your whole life, holding them dear to your heart. Damian's heart stutters in his chest at how enamored you look.

"Was the "woah" first or second?" The mayor turns to ask Damian.

"After. I had read the characters, and the only reaction I was given was "Woah."" Damian hums. "Are we finished?"

"Yes." The mayor laughs. "It's very much a romantic soulmate. Have the two of you..?"

"Not yet." Damian hums, standing up, holding his hand out for you. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor."

"Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Wayne. I hope to see the both of you at the Wayne gala later this year."

Damian leads you back to the elevator, music filling the air as the two of you stand there in silence.

"When would you like our first date to be?" Damian steps to the side, turning to look at you.

"Oh, um." You frown. "I'm not sure. I'd go, but I already submitted my leave for the weekend. My friend and her soulmate are getting married."

Damian raises a brow. "Not here?"

"They're getting married in the Maldives." You laugh awkwardly. "Her soulmate is loaded."

"More than me?" Damian raises a brow playfully.

"Well, loaded in the millionaire way." You smile. "Not billionaire."

"Do you have a date? Should I go with you?"

"Oh." You pause. "I could bring you, huh?" You press your fingers to your lips, pursing them. "I put down a plus one because I was expecting to bring another friend... I suppose it could be you."

"Did you put down a name?"

"No. They do not have a seating chart."

"Mm." He pauses. "is it too fast?"

"No, no!" You smile. "I'll send you the details... via email?" You grimace at how strange it sounds.

"May I have your phone? I can give you my number."

"Yes." You fish it out for him as he hands you his phone. You type your name in, typing habibti under company. You text yourself as he does with himself. The two of you trade phones back, and you send Damian the packing list and details of the wedding immediately. Damian scrolls through the list, pausing.

"Is there a specific invitation I am required to bring?"

"I have both. I will bring them." You smile. "Any other questions?"

The elevator stops at parking, and Damian leads you out. You make a beeline for the car this time, texting your friend to confirm the guest you would be bringing. She asks you if it's your soulmate, and you tell her to check the Gotham Gazette in the morning. She sends you a flurry of texts.

"Will our soulmate bond get leaked?"

"Perhaps by the paparazzi. Why?"

"I'd like for it to be a good photo of me."

"I will let my publicist know."

You check the news the next morning, beaming at how good you look in the photo. Damian looks protective of you, and as you rush to your lab in the morning, your heart is warm. You're glad he has a good eye for that, at the very least. The groupchat explodes with people looking for you, asking if it was true your soulmate was Damian, your friend private texting you to check if your guest was Damian. You only respond to your friend, confirming his attendance. She tells you she expects an expensive gift out of you, and you snort. You joke about relaying her message to Damian.

You tuck everything away as you get back to your experiment.

The end of the day comes quickly, and as you close the lab for the night, you blink when you stare at Damian at the door. You click on your phone, checking to see if you had missed any messages from him, but nothing appears. You raise a brow as you open the door with all of your stuff. "Something wrong, Mr. Wayne?"

"Damian is fine." He nods. "I was wondering what I should bring for your friend's wedding."

"Mm," You frown. "I was going to bring her a nice bottle of wine from one of my travels, but I'm sure you have something much better than that in the winehouse at your place."

"We do. We have a screaming eagle cabernet from the 90s."

"Woah." You blink. "That sounds like a lot. Isn't that like 500k?"

"We have multiple bottles." He insists. "I can bring one."

You grimace. "If you insist."

"It can be our gift. From the both of us."

"The tabloids have already started calling me a gold digger." You laugh.

"My publicist will take care of that. I will have father get you one."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He hums. "Where do you live? I can drive you home."

"Um." You give him your address. It takes him a moment to figure out where you live, and then the two of you are off.

"I will send someone for you tomorrow," He hums. "We can take the private jet. I already got your tickets refunded."

"Oh. Wow." You blink at him in awe. "That's really kind. Thank you."

"No worries." He hums. "You should get used to it."

"Do all your brothers spoil their soulmates like that?"

"Grayson, the eldest," Damian grumbles. "worships the ground his soulmate steps on. Todd does the same, though less obvious about it. Drake's known his soulmate forever so the two of them click too well. Duke and his soulmate are platonic soulmates, but the two of them get along far better than we do as a family. Steph and Cass both have not found their soulmates and father..." he pauses. "father and his soulmate are... an interesting two."

"So your family all spoil their soulmates?"

"There is nothing out of reach with the amount of money we have. It is not spoiling if we are simply letting them get whatever they want because it is not a burden on us financially." Damian takes a turn. "We do not consider it spoiling."

"That's sweet." You smile. "How big were their rings?"

"Grayson's soulmate got the biggest diamond in existence. None of us could believe our eyes." Damian hums. "How big of a diamond would you want?"

"I'd like you to hand make a ring for me." You grin. "Of course, if you don't have time, I want something the color of your eyes to match my soulmate mark."

"Why not both?" He stops at the door to your apartment.

"How about you?" You open the door, tilting your head at him.

"Whatever color your eyes are."

You hate how good he is with his words.

Damian drives home, your words in the back of his mind. A handmade ring. Maybe you'd be willing to wear his name on your skin if he makes you a ring with a gem the color of his eye. Though, he'd be rushing. Even if his skin burned to touch you and his heart raced to be held by you, he did not wish to rush it. Messing up with you was far scarier than getting hurt during patrol.

He texts the family chat that he would be using the jet the next day, to which Dick had asked eagerly where he was going. Damian leaves him on read. He finds you at the door in the morning the next day, taking your suitcase from you as you yawn.

"Did you have breakfast yet?"

You blink at him, rubbing your eyes. "No. Do you have food?"

"You can have some of Grayson's cereal."

You blink harder as he hands you a bowl with the cereal and milk, and you stare at the cereal brand.

"Wow. The amount of sugar in this could kill someone."

"Some days I wish it were enough to kill Grayson."

You pour out a little bit of the cereal, pouring the milk in, and then dig in. You read the ingredients as Damian goes upstairs, pulling his own luggage down the stairs, meeting you back in the kitchen when you finish. You clean the dishes, setting them to the side as Damian comes to get you.

"You did not need to wash the dishes."

"I didn't want to leave a mess." You reason.

"It's fine. We're leaving now. You ready?"

"Yeah." You grin. "Is takeoff rough?"

"It's very smooth." He hums. "I gave the pilot the address and everything already. We land in around three hours."

"Alright." You hum.

The jet, plane, was huge. You blink in surprise at the size as Damian leads you up the steps, and you blink quietly. "Woah."

"Surprised?"

"What's the use of having such a large plane? Isn't the carbon footprint huge?"

"We usually fly first class, but I figured since your friends all wanted to see what kind of a person you were dating, I shouldn't be stingy." Damian hums.

"There's really no need." You laugh.

"Also, more privacy." He hums. "I figured you deserve to know what kind of life I live outside of the tabloids."

You tilt your head at him. "Are you going to tell me you're Batman or something?"

The plane door shuts behind him, and he exhales.

"Robin."

Your eyes widen, lips pursing, surprise on your face.

"Is that too much too quick?"

"No." You pause. "No. That's. That's actually kind of hot."

Damian raises a brow.

"Are you still Robin? Because I think—"

"No," Damian shakes his head. "I run around with another name now, already graduated from the title, but I thought I would tell you since."

"Yeah." You exhale. "What about the weekend?"

"Todd and Drake are here. There is no need to fret."

"So your whole family is in on the business?"

"Yes."

"Wow." You mumble. "That's..."

Damian braces himself for the worst. He doesn't know why, your face is far from disgusted or terrified, but he still does. Maybe you would reject him or tell him to stop. That would be a nightmare.

"And you like doing it?"

"Yes." He raises a brow.

"Um, please don't come back to me dead. Ever. Please." You scratch your cheek. "If you like doing it, then I won't stop you. I'd just prefer you don't die on the job."

"Do not worry. If I were to die, my mother would simply drop me into the Lazarus pit." Damian jokes.

"That's some lore drop there." You blink. "That's real?"

"Yes." He raises a brow. "For the same reason my grandfather is immortal, by the same logic, so would I."

"Woah." You mumble. "I heard rumors of it when I was travelling. I didn't know it existed."

"Fountain of youth."

"Is that why you look so good?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that." You smile.

"And you?"

"I told you I travel." You nod. "Oh, it might be good to tell you about the friend getting married."

You tell him details about how the two of you met, telling him about your other friends at the same time, mumbling about how you thought her soulmate was actually an asshole just from the way he treated her friends, and then casually mentioning his name, Damian blinking.

"Do you know him?"

"Drake has done business with his family before."

"His family's a nightmare. The only reason I'm going is because my friend is an angel. I wouldn't go for any other reason."

Damian finds peace in the way your voice floods his senses, gathering intel on your friends, understanding who he had to avoid and who he could make small talk with. He had a feeling he'd know a couple of the people there from the groom's side, and from the way you talked about him, it wouldn't be pleasant if they found out he was your soulmate. Despite that, he finds that there is no need to worry too much. You were close to the bride's side. That's all that seemed to matter to you. You pause at some point, almost as if you were thinking of something.

"Something wrong?"

"We brought the wine, right?"

"Yes. I had the servants bring it."

"Alright." You mumble. "I'm not looking forward to what the groom has to say to me about you."

"I will stay next to you the whole time. My publicist will deal with everything."

"Speaking of which, who is your publicist?"

Damian smiles. "Grayson's soulmate."

"Ahhh." You laugh. That checks out.

There's not much jetlag when the two of you land, and you stare at the afternoon sun through your shades, hand held up. It's nice and warm, a contrast to the spring weather in Gotham. Damian leads you to the car, making a call as he does, handing you the tablet for you to choose which suite to get upgraded to.

"Are we sharing a bed?" You blink at him.

"We can order a room with two beds if you'd like."

"Would that be rude?"

"Not at all."

Damian finds that you've selected a room with a king bed instead, noticing the way your ears were flushed as you stared out the window. He confirms with the hotel on the call, putting the charge on his father's card. He wondered if you would call this spoiling. His brothers had told him that his soulmate deserved the best treatment, and Damian couldn't really tell what they had meant. He never lived a normal life. He wasn't sure if his normal was their best or if there was something better that he could give them. He opts for staring at your face instead, taking in your features.

"The upgrade." He swallows. "It is alright, right?"

"Yes." You smile at him. "It's more than okay. Thank you, a lot."

"The best, for you." He mumbles.

The two of you settle into the hotel room. Damian glances at the clothes you bring, exhaling quietly to himself when he realizes he brought a decent palette of clothes. The wedding's theme was lavender, and he was starting to get worried that he wouldn't be able to match with you at all, but he's happy to find that you've got colors similar to his.

"Do I need to call you anything?"

"It'd be funny if you call me habibti," You grin. "The bride is a friend from when I first got my soulmate mark. She was there when we tried searching up what the word on my wrist meant."

"Ah. You go back a long time."

"A very long time." You smile. "What was it like for you? Seeing your soulmate mark?"

"My family was in my room at midnight, including my mother, and everyone groaned when I got the most generic word ever. They thought I would never find my soulmate. Todd joked that my soulmate must be blown away by my face." He hums in amusement, noticing you avert your gaze. "I still owe him twenty. Dick's soulmate word was "hello" and only Drake had something remotely entertaining."

"What was it? If you don't mind me asking." You blink at him.

"I quote "We should get married." It was quite the sentence." Damian chuckles.

"That sounds funny." Your lips pull up into a smile. "I had a friend get "we should fuck" as their first sentence. Then I found out my best friend at the time had "Yo." as theirs."

"Did you like your first line?"

"I did." You beam at him, unclasping the clip for your suitcase. "I loved it. When my father told me it meant darling or my love in Arabic, I was elated. I thought my soulmate would be the most romantic man in the world, and I was ecstatic."

"Am I?" Damian raises a brow as you pull out a dress.

"Yes." Your smile stretches impossibly wider. "I'm very happy."

"I'm happy to hear that. What's the dress code for tonight?"

"You brought a polo, right? Rich boy, old money vibes. Polo shirt and khakis."

"Got it." He nods. "What color will you be wearing?"

"Everything I brought is some variation of the color palette for the wedding," You hum. "I'll be wearing this."

"I am sure you'll look dashing in it, habibti." He smiles.

You flush at the word, hiding your face in your dress.

"Is it too much?"

"No." You smile at him. "Just enough. I'll get used to it."

Damian wonders what kind of friends you had at seven. Yet, he finds himself blinking in surprise when the two of you arrive at the event.

"Woah, he's an item..." Your friend's jaw drops, patting your shoulders gently. "Damian Wayne? Pleasure to meet you. I'm your soulmate's best friend."

"No, I am." Another friend butts in.

"You're all wrong." The bride scoffs playfully. "I am."

Damian nods at them.

"We'll bring the gift tomorrow at the wedding." You smile at the bride, rushing off with them as Damian heads over to the side, making small talk with who he assumed the groom was. He finds himself with his eyes on you the whole night, only sparing glances at the people he was talking to when you would stare back at him. You look pretty. He understands why his brothers had clicked with their soulmates so quickly now. He excuses himself at some point, pressing his chest to your back, hand resting on your waist.

"Having fun? That's your second margarita, not to mention your cocktails."

You grin at him, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "It's actually my fourth."

"I think that is enough." He hums. "There's still a dinner."

"I can hold my alcohol." You mumble, and Damian takes the glass from your hand, downing the whole thing in one gulp. You blink at him, wide-eyed. "Woah."

"Let's get you seated, hm? Dinner starts soon. Cocktail hour is for after the dinner."

"Can I bring a drink to our room later?" You mumble.

"Yes." He excuses the two of you from the bride, settling down where your names were put, and he presses a patch into your skin, rubbing your arm as he waits for the neutralizer to course through your system. He probably should have asked if you were okay with it, but he has one on himself, so it's not like he was actively trying to drug you. You turn your head when you notice him rubbing the patch onto your skin, mind clearing a little.

"What is that?"

"Neutralizer. It helps with filtering alcohol."

"Oh, it works." You grin at him. "Thank you."

"Of course. I have one in my arm too."

"That sure explains why you didn't pass out from the sheer glasses of champagne you were having." You mumble.

"Who's at our table?"

"Two other girls and their soulmates. The two girls that were next to the bride and I earlier."

"Alright." He hums, letting his hand fall down to your side, staring at you as you wave your friends over. "Any exes?"

"Nope. I didn't date anyone that didn't greet me with what was on my wrist. It was pretty easy, considering that most people are ignorant. I also kept a bracelet around my wrist for the most part." You smile. "You?"

"Two. Maybe. I do not know if they count. I hooked up with them while..."

"In costume?"

"yeah."

You shrug, starting a conversation with your friend instead, catching up with her. Damian listens briefly, eyes focused on you instead, enamored with you. He's hopeless, he decides. He has no saving grace from you. He doesn't get to make fun of his brothers anymore, not when he was just like them. Your friends take notice of it, smiling when he notices their gaze. You're loved. Just from the way your friends had smiled at him and then at you, you're loved. He understands why. It'd be hard not to love you.

You excuse yourself early, exhaustion from the plane setting in late, Damian helping you up and leading the two of you back. You let the bride know with a hand on her back, and she shoos you away playfully, mumbling about how you should use protection. You sigh dramatically, telling her you'd make her an aunt on purpose. It was a joke from the way you had said it, but Damian wonders if you'd actually want kids of your own — shit, his brain was moving fast. He barely knows you.

"Were you actually tired?"

"Any longer and you would've seen how embarrassing my friends get when drunk." You mumble. "Embarassing bunch."

"How embarrassing?" He raises a brow. "My brothers are a nightmare when drunk as well."

"They won't shut up." You press your keycard on the lock. "About me."

"They love you a lot."

"They do." You turn to smile at Damian. "And I love them too, even if they don't shut up about my embarrassing stories when drunk. They're probably embarrassing the bride instead though."

"That would make more sense."

"They kept trying to get people to read the writing on my wrist last time." You hum. "That was after grad."

"So recently."

"Yeah. No one was able to read it." You laugh. "And the ones who could, they didn't say it to me. They called my friends habibti."

"You do not say it with an accent." Damian notices. "Habibti."

"Huh?" You pause while rummaging for your sleepwear. "Oh, yeah. I... my parents got me an Arabic teacher for a little while because I wanted to learn when I first got my mark. I've also visited... a lot of the countries? In part it's because I'd repeat the word to myself until I feel asleep until like..." You avert your gaze, going back to your suitcase. Damian notices you start flushing. "end of high school?"

"Ten years?" Damian exhales. "You whispered your word to yourself before bed for ten years?"

"Yeah." You finally find your pajamas in the baggage. "A little bit of a hopeless romantic, huh?"

Damian doesn't answer you, staring into your eyes instead, unmoving, barely blinking.

"Is it that bad?"

Damian breaks from his trance. "No. Not at all. It's..." endearing — but he can't say that, so he offers you a nod instead. He curses himself for the lack of game when it came to you, but as you rush to change in the bathroom, he sighs. It's hopeless. He's enamored. He understands why you had stared up at him with your pupils blown wide and lips parted upon first meeting. He does the same now, staring down at you like you were his everything, even if he knew barely anything about you outside of what you had told him. Well, he could always ask Drake to hack and gather intel on you. But it'd be a breach of privacy that he didn't want to cross with you. Ugh.

He pushes his hair back in frustration, opting for clearing his mind with work instead. Even if he had taken the weekend off with you, he should really do something that isn't thinking of all the ways he'd have your skin pressed to his at night — no, fuck. Damian opens his laptop, clicks on his VPN and the wifi, sorting through the emails from the WE teams instead. He barely notices the sound of the bathroom door opening and you step out with your sleepwear on. At some point, Tim texts him to get off his emails and enjoy the time with you, threatening to bench him. Damian grimaces, wondering how he could get benched in a company situation, but he doesn't argue back. He was trying to avoid talking to you, after all.

You're in bed on your phone, scrolling through something.

"What are you looking at?" Damian settles on his side of the bed.

"I'm watching my friend's wedding tiktoks." You smile, rolling over to show him. "The preparation ones. She's going to make more tomorrow."

Damian hums. "Can I put an arm around your waist? My arm..."

"Yeah." You grin. "You can touch me."

Damian's breath catches in his throat at how straightforward you are, arm wrapping around your torso slowly, resting his chin on your head, glancing down at your phone.

"Do you think about weddings?"

You close your phone, plugging it back in on the strand, settling yourself in Damian's arms. "Sometimes."

"What kind do you want?"

"I want your name on my skin at the wedding," You mumble, eyes already closed.

"Like bridal henna?"

"Mhm."

Damian struggles to sleep the whole night because of your words. Though, it's not like he's gone without sleep before. Instead, he spends the night matching his breathing to yours, wrapping his arms tighter around you, taking in the scent of your shampoo. At some point his eyes close, body betraying him and falling to the need. He wakes up to you shifting in his arms, turning around to get a look at his face better, lashes blinking on his skin, eyes staring up at him, sun reflecting in them.

Damian's breath hitches, and in his morning stupor, he rests his forehead on yours, staring into your eyes, nose touching yours, the love of the universe in the way he looks at you. His shoulders relax as he continues looking, sure that his pupils have expanded beyond repair, utterly enamored with how you looked in the morning. His arms squeeze around your waist affectionately, moving to bury his head into the crook of your neck, exhaling as he does.

"Good morning." He feels you smile.

"Good morning to you too, habibti." He mumbles back, smile mirroring yours, he's sure.

The wedding moves without too big of an issue, the two of you bring the wine and leave it at the gift table, Damian sits next to you the whole time, watching as you get the bouquet practically launched at you, catching it with a flinch, chasing after the bride with the bouquet as a weapon, messing up your hair in the meantime but getting a laugh out of it. Damian stands to the side, talking only briefly with the groom's family, introducing himself as your soulmate, not Damian Wayne. He was yours first before he was a businessman now. Yours. It rings nicely in his head. He was yours. He would be fine with that — being yours.

At some point you return to Damian's side, sighing with the bouquet in hand.

"When's our wedding?" You joke, putting the bouquet on the table.

"It'll take a while." Damian hums, smoothing out your hair for you. "We still have to date and get engaged."

"I should've dodged."

"You wouldn't have been able to. Your friend did it on purpose." Damian mumbles, finishing with your hair.

"Is it alright?"

"Yes." He presses his lips to your forehead. "You look great, habibti."

You smile at him, the moon behind you this time.

"When do we fly?"

"I booked the plane for tomorrow." Damian hums. "We can sleep in."

"Oh, bless." You grumble. "The shoes are killing me."

"Would you like mine?" He offers. "Or would you like for me to carry you back?"

You pause, glancing at the emptier hall.

"I wouldn't dare let you take off your shoes for me." You smile at him.

"Sit, please," and you do, settling down as Damian gets on a knee, slipping your heels from your feet, holding onto them with one hand, the other hooking under your knees as he tells you to wrap your arms around his neck. You yelp as he does, and you wave bye to the bride as he settles you in his arms bridal style, your arms around his neck for support as he holds onto your shoes.

"Please don't drop me." You mumble.

"I wouldn't dare." He steps toward the elevator, pressing your floor as you pull the room card out from your pocket. (you had shown him before, with a spin, that your dress had pockets. Damian made a note to remember you liked them.)

He sets you on bed, loosening his tie and placing your heels down by your shoes, taking off his blazer to hang up in the closet. He watches you shimmy out of the dress, naked form to his eyes, breath catching in his throat at the way the moonlight illuminates your skin. He doesn't move, watching as you pull the robe from next to him, body on autopilot as you step into the showers. He'd wash up after you, unbuttoning his shirt and ditching his pants, sorting through his own luggage to find a change of clothes.

You open the door to the bathroom, robe on, blinking at his bare back.

"You're built like a wall." You blurt.

"Am I?" Damian hums.

"Does this come with your family or something? All of you are HUGE." You rub the towel through your hair.

"I suppose it does." Damian stands up, change of clothes in hand. "It's also from the training."

"For night?" You try your best to be vague. Damian appreciates it.

"Yes." He nods. "Would you like to see when we get back?"

"Sure." You grin. "Is it big?"

"It's a cave." Damian closes the door to the bathroom.

"Woah." You mumble. "Wild."

You settle yourself in the bed, back on your phone, yawning as you respond to a couple texts, scrolling through your email, checking the CCTV footage of the experiment you were doing. You had someone checking to see if the experiment was working, and from what they had told you, everything had replicated perfectly. You let out a sigh of relief when you found out. It would be fine. You'd finish with it, and then you'd retire somewhere with the money promised you in the contract. You worked hard for the moment.

You feel the bed dip behind you.

"Looking at the updates?"

"The experiment is moving faster than before." You mumble. "I should be able to report to your father in around a week."

"And then?"

You blink. "Not sure. I was thinking of finding a high rise to live in."

"Not with me?" Damian wraps his arms around you, getting comfortable.

"Don't you still live in the manor?"

"It's comfortable there." He mumbles. "I also have an empty apartment of my own. Would you like to move there?"

"Would you move in with me?" You turn to face him, phone on the nightstand.

"If you'd like."

"Yes, please," You grin. "If you'd like."

"Then I'd love to." He mumbles, reaching over you to close the light.

Damian takes you to the Batcave first, having the servants take your stuff to the apartment without asking you, adjusting the grandfather clock and letting you inside the cave, shutting it behind him. The two of you arrive right before patrol, and you get to meet all of his siblings. All of them. Even Nightwing.

"Who's this?"

"Soulmate." Tim doesn't bother looking at you, pressing his mask on. "Showing her around already? And you call us whipped."

"Shut up, Drake." Damian spits.

"Are you on duty tonight?"

"We take turns." Damian hums.

"Are any of these liquids active?" You stare at the tubes.

"Those two are for Ivy when she attacks. Less these days, but she occasionally strikes us with sex pollen for fun. Those are neutralizers. That one's for Scarecrow's fear toxin, and that one—"

You nod along as Damian explains everything to you, waving at his siblings as they head off for patrol.

"Are you tomorrow?"

"Yes." He hums. "Did you want to come along?"

"That's too dangerous." Batman speaks up, and you pause.

"Mr. Wayne." You smile politely. "Didn't peg you to be the type to run around to try and fix crime."

"Desperate times call for desperate situations." He chuckles. "Damian, take care of her. The computer is off limits."

"Yes, father." Damian nods as he disappears too.

"Who's on patrol tomorrow?"

"Father goes every night, and then tomorrow is Spoiler, Orphan, Signal, and I."

"SOS..." You mumble quietly. "Sors. Ross. Ross."

Damian raises a brow.

"Your names." You smile. "You would be team Ross."

"If that makes you happy." He leads you back up the stairs.

"Do you have an intercom?"

"Oracle. She works every night."

"Is she a sibling?"

"No. She used to be Batgirl."

"mm." You nod slowly. "Oh, it's late, huh? I should probably head home."

"You can stay here for the night. I had the servants send your luggage to my apartment. I can drive the two of us to work tomorrow." Damian shuts the clock behind the two of you.

"You have the same hours as us?"

"Yes."

"Speaking of which, how come you and Tim don't go to work together?"

"Tim does not live in the manor. He lives with his soulmate." He leads you to his room. "This is my room. Make yourself comfortable."

You mumble something under your breath about how big the bed is before you head over to the bathroom to wash up. "Are there pajamas I can borrow?" You peek from the door.

"I'll leave them on the bed." He pulls a shirt and clean boxers from his closet, setting them on the bed, settling at his desk, reading through what he would be meeting about the next day. He had hoped Tim would've taken care of the meetings over the weekend, but he supposes he can't avoid everything. It's painfully boring. The meetings are always boring.

"Whatcha looking at?" You come out with a towel in your hair, maneuvering his shirt onto you, putting on his boxers. It's a size too big, and you have to use a hair tie to keep it in place.

"I have a meeting tomorrow."

You shudder. "I don't miss having meetings."

"Did you intern somewhere else?"

"I interned in England for a bit." You lean over his shoulder, staring at the meeting details. "Oh, on the product."

"Yes, the new birth control we're trying to release. The injection."

"It would be helpful. I can't say blocking hormones is good for the body." You mumble. "Does it work on males?"

"We're releasing both versions."

"That's good." You mumble. "It'd be really helpful."

"Dick's soulmate made us read through the entire list of possible side effects of birth control and scared us half to death." Damian hums. "Even father."

"I read through it once."

"Do you take birth control?"

"Nope. Never slept with anyone, didn't plan on sleeping with people." You shrug. "You?"

Damian pauses. "I haven't either."

"Oh, really?" You mumble. "You've dated before."

"Hooked up." He corrects. "I always felt bad after kissing."

You laugh. "That was the universe telling you no."

"Perhaps." He shrugs. "Let's get to bed."

You barely see Damian after that, the two of you busy with your own affairs in the company, busy with moving your stuff into the apartment outside of work. Damian drives you home and helps you with the boxes, but the two of you don't have substantial conversation. Even when you finish the trials and present everything to the board, Damian doesn't get to have a moment with you, invitations to speak at colleges and other locations flooding into your mail. Damian finally catches you as you finish moving into the apartment.

"Habibti." He breathes, arms wrapping around your shoulders, head resting on your head. "I was looking for you."

"You could've called." You smile at him, voice muffled by his chest.

"You were not answering."

"My bad." You wiggle to loosen his arms, smile on your face. "Bruce transferred the money to my account. I'll be taking a break for a bit before I go speak at all those invitations."

"I am going to retire." He grumbles. "I never get to see you."

"We live together." You grin. "You get to see me every day now."

"Not enough." He mumbles. "I will leave Drake to deal with the family business."

"You're needed, you know? They need you for all the charity you guys do now." You pat his chest gently. "All of the animal shelters you volunteer at too."

"Would you like to visit one with me? There's an event tomorrow at the shelter to bring a friend."

"Oh, so I'm just a friend to you?" You tilt your head at him playfully.

"A friend," He presses a kiss to the corner of your left eye. "Habibti," He presses another kiss to the corner of your right eye. "And my soulmate." He rests his forehead on yours, hands on your face, eyes on your lips. "May I?"

You press your lips to his in response.

You're a work of art. Damian finds himself with an arm around your waist much more than he could have ever thought, his own life mingled with yours to the point of no return. You meant so much to him. You were the world to him. Fingers laced with yours at events, lips pressed to your hair in the rays of the morning sun, there was little to complain about and everything to be grateful for. His own little ray of the sun to make his life a little better.

Which is why he finds himself checking for the quality of the diamond, discussing the price of the gem with the dealer, running it through tests just to make sure it was the best. The emeralds he picks are hand-selected too, calling his mother as she teaches him how to discern between the good ones and bad ones. You were still yet to meet her, but for some reason, she had not asked questions, only wishing him luck on the proposal. It would take a while between everything he had on his hands.

"You've been coming back later these days." You hum, resting your head on his chest.

"My apologies, habibti," He mumbles. "I've been busy."

"Even on the nights you don't patrol?"

"Yes." He mumbles. "I am not cheating, if you are worried."

"I wouldn't think of it." You close your eyes. "I trust you."

"I love you, a lot." He whispers, wrapping his fingers around your ring finger.

"I love you too." You mumble back, curling the finger.

Damian struggles with the first two prototypes, fingers too rough against the metal, groaning as he fails again, the jeweler only laughs affectionately, assuring him he would be fine. He tries again and again until the mold comes out how he wants it to look, the gold chosen so that it wouldn't rust. The chances of you wearing your engagement ring while working were rare, but he still wanted to guarantee that it would not rust quickly. You deserved the world, and he'd make sure of it, even in something as simple as the ring he would give you.

On his seventh try, he gets a mold that leaves him satisfied. He had gotten your ring finger fitted before on top of his nightly routine of wrapping his fingers around it, and he was sure it would fit. The gems arrive cut out perfectly, the green diamond compared to his eyes by Dick and his brothers' soulmates a hundred times, assuring him that the color matched his eyes perfectly. Damian almost got his eyes color matched had it not been Bruce himself stepping in, assuring him that it matched his eyes well. The emeralds would match his eyes in different lighting. He was fine. Only then did Damian let the jeweler settle the diamonds into the ring, making sure that the gems wouldn't just tumble out. Not that he didn't trust the jeweler — he was worried it'd fall out on accident — alright, he doesn't trust the jeweler.

On the day the ring was completed, Damian had checked it under the light, mumbling to himself about how he hoped you like it. He had made it by hand as you told him you wanted him to, and the gems were all hand selected and picked to match his eyes. You'd be happy with it no matter what he gives you as an engagement ring, he's sure, but he had held your words close to his heart. You deserved an engagement ring you had dreamed of as a child. On the inside of the band, habibti is written in Arabic, a reminder of your soulmate bond, his heart full.

"You're home on time for once!" You beam, throwing your arms around his neck.

"I missed you, habibti." He mumbles, arms wrapped around your waist.

"I made dinner for us since you promised you'd be home today." You pull him along.

As he follows you, the ring in his back pocket feels lighter, your fingers curled around his, lips pulled into a dazzling smile.

He's yours.

From the known past to the unpredictable future, he was yours, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hello, Happy Holy Ramadan. I know your request box is closed, but when your request box is opened, can you make this request? if it doesn't bother you, could you do Long Ramadan headcanons for Damian Wayne and the reader? I saw your Damian wayne x muslim reader post before. And I thought it was appropriate to ask you this. If this request bothers you, feel free to ignore it. Have a nice day 🩷🩷🩷🤚

Ramadan HCs

Muslim!Damian Wayne x Muslim!Reader

hey there sweetheart and Ramadan Mubarak <3! firstly i'm so sorry that it took me so long to respond to the ask! im ashamed it took me a year honestly. requests are closed but i still wanted to be able to write for this because we obviously need more muslim representation and also the last time i posted the muslim hc for damian there were just so many of the readers who texted me or sent asks or commented saying that they really appreciated the representation

anyways i wasn't sure if i was going to respond or not because it has been a year but since it is currently Ramadan and it's going to end very soon I figured why not

Thank you for being so respectful in your ask, I really appreciate it and I hope you like it. Hope you have a very blessed Ramadan and wishing everyone a lot of health and happiness during this time. Even to my non-muslim readers, I hope you all are doing well and you're all healthy <3333

also i know that there is a very slim chance of this happening because all of you are amazing but i will not tolerate any hate of any kind. if you

your first Ramadan after being married to Damian was certainly a new experience

before being married, you were just used to your parents handling everything for you

by the time you wake up for suhoor, the table would be set

by the time you'd be home from university, your mother would be waiting by the door with a date and a glass of water

so now that you were married and you had to handle everything on your own, it took a little bit of getting used to

luckily for you, Damian is a very hands on type of man

he's the kind of person who'd just drink a cup of water or a glass of milk, maybe a couple of dates or a fruit and he'd be ok for the remainder of the day

but god forbid you even think of doing the same thing

he'd just about have a heart attack

absolutely not

initially, he'd request Alfred to make meals for you so he could bring them home for the both of you to have suhoor together

just until the both of you got the hang of it

after that damian would either help you cook before patrol so there would be food ready for the both of you

or he'd swing by some restaurant that was open and grab some takeout for the both of you

he'd heat up the food and set the table and making sure everything was absolutely ready before finally waking you up

practically carrying your sleepyass to the table and handfeeding you so he can make sure you're eating properly

since he handles suhoor, you handle iftar and keep the table set so you can eat together

you could always just stay at the manor so you wouldn't have to worry about the meals, like bruce or dick have suggested so many times

but you prefer living alone with your husband

no offense to them at all

but it's just easier for you to maintain your modesty at your own home

anyways

your marriage gets really tested during Ramadan

the two of you are barely getting any sleep and it's difficult for you both to get used to

the only time that you both spend together and are completely present is when he should be patrolling

the lack of sleep makes you both kind of cranky

and it's difficult to not snap at each other

eventually you both get pretty tired and exhausted and just slip into routine

but of course it's nothing some sleep and some time spent together can't solve

and since you've been trying to reduce watching movies and listening to music during the holy month, you end up playing board games together or going for long drives together where you just talk and talk and talk

you thought you were extremely secure in your marriage

that was until you saw damian pout and give you the silent treatment after losing a game of gin rummy

then claiming you shouldn't be playing a game called 'jinn' in the first place

not swearing or talking shit during ramadan was especially hard for him

especially with tim and steph yelling 'fi ramadan?' at him everytime he makes even the slightest snide comment

you find it hilarious but i digress

whenever you go to the masjid for nightly prayers, damian and you will go and find a new ice cream place to try out late at night

you mention in passing how the women's side of the mosque is so bland compared to the men's and damian immediately looks into getting the mosque refurbished so that you and other women can enjoy it

damian's shoes get stolen once and the great detective actually couldn't find out who it was

you hear him complain about it constantly

CONSTANTLY

this time is when you both really lean into the adorable muslim couple aesthetic

matching prayer mats with each of your names embroidered on it

matching tasbih

and other things you get the picture

you both go all out for ramadan and decorate your home from top to bottom

since you both don't really celebrate many of the western holidays, he really wants to make this a memorable time for the both of you

and so do you

you hold an iftar party at your place many times with all your friends and family

it started out with you just inviting everyone but eventually it became a weekly potluck, which you really appreciated

bro damian is more excited about Eid than you are

he literally has to keep reminding you to get your dress ready for Eid al fitr

because he wants to get a jubbah in a matching color and surprise you

you know how you have those cute texts of girlies asking their bfs for their opinions on their nails?

the exact same thing

except with HENNA

you send him like 100 different pictures a week, planning which design you want to wear for Eid

he responds to all of them with utmost seriousness

obviously, he's an artist

he knows whats the difference between arabic and indian designs for henna

but secretly he's wondering why you're sending him so many when you only have 2 hands

but um hello he's never going to tell you that

because it's ramadan and obv ramadan related stuff is going to be appearing on everyones fyp he has to deal with both you and dick sending him videos of the scholars being funny (iykyk)

hey guys let's start ramadan w a bang

also has to deal with jason asking him CONSTANTLY how he's still able to walk around when all the demons are supposed to be locked up for the month

plus he has to now deal with you watching mukbangs and restaurant reviews and crying to him about how you're starving

why on earth did silent asmr mukbangs of wingstop get so popular only during ramadan?

believe me every single prayer damian makes during this month, he is thanking god for bringing you to him and praying for your health and your happiness

when you found out, you cried in his arms for a good solid 5 minutes

he also secretly kind of prayed for kids on laylat ul qadr but you didn't hear it from me

not only is this month really special for the both of you, you take it as an opportunity to give back

damian has wayne enterprises run soup kitchens for the entire month and they serve all people meals as well as suhoor and iftar

you both volunteer there personally

you donate money of course and damian will tell you that everytime he does it, he feels fulfilled in a way he never has before

you honestly feel so proud of the man you feel blessed to call your husband

also, like the perfect husband he is, he sends gifts and food to your parents

who quickly begin to regard him as better than your own siblings

much to his secret pleasure

uk i wish i could keep going

honestly ramadan is such a magical and rewarding time of the year

and you are so happy to spend it along with damian

P.S.

while damian completely understood the point of sacrificing a goat for Eid al adha

he still cried about it to you the night before out of guilt

you definitely donated the meat that came out of that

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

[dc-and-arfrona]

Phone Conversations

—-

Damian Wayne x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 700+

Masterlist

Summary: He’s a lil too loud and you ask him to pipe down 

—

Damian Wayne, the youngest member of the Bat-family, sat in a cozy corner of a local cafe. He was engrossed in a lively conversation over his phone, completely oblivious to the world around him. His animated gestures and the volume of his voice were drawing annoyed glances from nearby patrons.

Meanwhile, [Y/N], a hardworking individual focused on their laptop at a nearby table, grew increasingly frustrated with the disruption caused by Damian's loud phone conversation. They had a deadline to meet and needed a quiet environment to concentrate.

Taking a deep breath, [Y/N] gathered their courage and approached Damian's table. With a stern expression, they tapped their fingers on the table to get his attention.

"Excuse me," [Y/N] spoke firmly, trying to mask their annoyance. "Could you please take your phone conversation somewhere else? It's quite disruptive, and I'm trying to work here."

Damian's eyes widened in surprise as he finally registered the impact of his actions on the others around him. He quickly ended the call and lowered his voice. "My apologies. I didn't realize I was being so disruptive."

[Y/N] sighed, their frustration dissipating a bit as Damian's apologetic tone caught them off guard. "Just please remember to be more considerate next time. We're all trying to focus here."

Realizing his mistake, Damian's expression softened. "You're right, I should have been more aware. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Feeling a pang of guilt for their initial irritation, [Y/N] softened their tone as well. "It's okay. Just be mindful of your surroundings next time."

Silence settled between them, a mix of tension and curiosity lingering in the air. Damian's gaze flickered to [Y/N]'s laptop screen, noticing their work. "May I ask what you're working on?"

[Y/N] glanced at Damian, their annoyance fading further as they saw genuine curiosity in his eyes. They gestured toward the empty chair across from them. "If you're genuinely interested, you can join me. Just keep the volume down."

A flicker of appreciation and curiosity danced in Damian's eyes as he took a seat. The conversation flowed naturally as [Y/N] shared their passion for writing, and Damian opened up about his own ventures beyond the world of vigilante justice.

As they spent more time together, Damian's initial annoyance and [Y/N]'s frustration were replaced by a mutual understanding. They discovered that beneath their initial clash, there was a shared love for their respective crafts.

Days turned into weeks, and the cafe encounters became a regular occurrence. Damian gradually learned the importance of keeping his phone conversations private and respectful of others. In turn, [Y/N] discovered a kinder, more considerate side of Damian that went beyond his sometimes brash exterior.

Their interactions at the cafe evolved into something more—a blossoming friendship grounded in mutual respect and shared interests. And as the weeks passed, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder if there was potential for something deeper between them.

One rainy afternoon, as [Y/N] sat at their usual table, engrossed in their writing, they couldn't shake the feeling of someone's eyes on them. Looking up, they found Damian standing by their table, a slightly nervous expression on his face.

"Hey, [Y/N]," he began, his voice gentle yet uncertain. "I know we've been spending a lot of time together, and I wanted to ask... Would you be interested in going out on a proper date with me? No phones involved, I promise."

Surprised yet pleasantly taken aback, [Y/N] couldn't help but smile. "I'd love to, Damian. No phones, just us."

And so, their relationship took a new turn, guided by shared passions, understanding, and a budding romance that flourished amidst the clatter of coffee cups and the aroma of freshly brewed conversations.

[ragingbookdragon]

She smiled as she watched Damian score another goal, turning to grin and throw his arms in the air in her direction; she waved back at him, tossing a thumbs up. The bleacher next to her bent and she happened to look up, eyes widening for a mere fraction at the gorgeous dark-haired woman gracefully taking her seat beside her. She gave a polite smile. “Talia, I wasn’t aware you’d be coming to Damian’s soccer game today.”

“It was in a report on his progress I read,” she replied, elegantly cocking one leg over the other. “Damian has never shown an interest in sports. I wanted to see his training.” She frowned. “What is the point of this? No one is battling to the death.”

“Well, it’s soccer for starters. Secondly, it’s soccer for eighth graders, so…the bloody, jam your cranium into the opponents nose comes in high school.” She lifted a package in her hand. “Gummy bear?”

Talia looked down at them, then took a few. “Thank you. What position does Damian hold?”

“Damian’s a forward player. He makes the goals and is the offense and defense when he needs to be.” Her lips pulled in an impressive fashion. “He’s actually really good at it, no surprise there, but he’s got to be one of the best players I’ve seen that isn’t pro.”

“Hmm…is this the only sport he engages in?”

“He’s planning on competing on the swim team later this semester. And I’m sure tennis or baseball will catch his eye. Not sure about football though.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, Damian’s built for sports like this, not full-contact sports. Football would be Dick or Jason’s territory. Actually, Jason was planning on teaching the—GO DAMIAN! GO! GO!” she jumped to her feet, cheering him on. “COME ON DAMIAN! YOU GOT IT, BABY! GO!”

Talia looked at her like she had three heads, then to Damian, and suddenly surged to her feet, cheering him on too. “YES! DAMIAN! MAKE THEM REGRET THEIR EXISTENCE! WIN FOR YOUR FAMILY!”

She couldn’t help but snort at Talia, but hey, she was cheering her son on, so she didn’t bother. A few moments later, the benched team members on Damian’s team leapt onto the field and bellowed for joy, cheering wildly. Damian congratulated his friends and hopped the bleachers by two to get to her. “Umi! Did you see me! Did you—” he stopped in his tracks when he saw Talia, eyebrows furrowing as he regarded her suspiciously. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

Before Talia could speak, she smiled at Damian and replied for her, “Talia came to watch your game, Damian.”

“Why?”

“Because I invited her to.” Damian gaped at her and she shrugged. “I figured she should get to come see what you do when you’re not running around at night.”

Talia looked at her with guarded eyes, then she nodded. “I came to see your progress on your training. Now that I am satisfied, I’m going back.”

“Of course, mother.”

She frowned and laid a hand on Damian’s arm. “Baby, why don’t you and Talia go to Tarbooshes and get some dinner? I bet you’re hungry after all that running.”

“But patrol is coming soon, Umi.”

“And you’ll go on patrol like normal when you’re done eating.” She bent down and kissed his head, whispering in his ear, “Go spend time with your mother, Dami. She came to see you because she loves you.”

“Yes ma’am.” Damian pulled away, slung his bag over his shoulder then looked at Talia, holding out his hand. “Shall we, mother?”

Talia’s face melted in the softest smile she’d ever seen on the woman and she took Damian’s hand in her own. “We shall, my son.” Talia’s eyes found hers and she knew what they said even without having to speak, from one mother to another.

Thank you.

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cheese of the Stringable Variety

damian wayne x reader

(A/N): I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while now and it is by far the most niche thing I have ever written. I intended this to be around 1k, looked at the word count before I’d even gotten to the section I wanted to write this for, and then checked again at the end and viola 3k. I am of Arab-American heritage myself and slowly learning Arabic and connecting to my culture, but this type of string cheese has always been a part of my life and my role in my extended family. I also hope that those who don’t share these experiences can still enjoy this fic, if only for the amount of storybuilding that wormed it's way in. (Also worth mentioning that the having separate bedrooms has no cultural relevance whatsoever; I just like the concept.)

Note: reader is implied heavily to be of Middle Eastern heritage, though there are no features described. The region is also unspecified but the Arabic dialect is Levantine because that’s where my family is from. 

warnings: a lot of food mentions; a mild curse word in Arabic; use of a knife for food related things; discussions of extended family 

wc: ~ 3100

~~

On your way out the door in the morning, you took the braided cheese out of the fridge and left it on the counter, a post-it note on top of it. Leave out of the fridge! was scribbled hastily in your handwriting as you rushed to work. In the apartment behind you, you could hear the sink running. After a long night of patrol, Damian was fortunate his meeting started at eleven am and not eight am. 

Every time your phone screen lit up as you headed home in the evening, it taunted you with the time. You didn’t mean to be back so late; it would take hours to string the four braids of cheese you’d picked up from your جد, your grandfather, the day before. At this point in the evening, you’d probably have to get up earlier in the morning and finish it then. At least an early tomorrow would mean “no sleeping in” rather than “running on five hours of sleep” before a family function. You’d done it before. It sucked. 

You pulled your laptop and a couple other items from your bag before heading to take a shower and change into comfortable clothes. A sweatshirt of Damian’s caught your eye after you’d gotten changed, tossed haphazardly over the edge of your bed. You hung your damp towel in the bathroom before heading back into the kitchen. Halfway there, you turned and grabbed the sweatshirt, pulling it over your clothes. 

“مرحبا حبيبي,” you greeted Damian as he shut the front door behind him. Hello, my love. “How'd the meeting go?" 

“مرحبا أملي,” he replied, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek as he passed through the kitchen on his way to the bedroom.

Damian’s Arabic was better than yours. Every time he said something to you that you understood, a satisfied trill shot through your chest. Ameli, he called you this time. My hope. Damian had a handful of various pet names for you that he cycled through, many of them in Arabic. 

“The shelter proposal’s been fully approved,” he informed you, “so I’m expecting the distribution of funds to begin in the next few weeks.”

“Oh that’s great!” Setting up properly funded, city-wide animal care facilities was one of the first things Damian ever brought up to the WE board. “You've been working at that for years.” The microwave beeped and you silenced it quickly, pulling out the container of leftovers you’d been heating up. You opened the second container and covered it with the same paper towel before placing it in the microwave.  The timer was set once more for 90 seconds. Before the food was done heating up, Damian returned to the kitchen, work clothes traded for a compression shirt and shorts. He owned half a dozen of the exact same black compression shirts. They functioned most often as his first underlayer on patrol. 

“Here, Dames.” You held the first container out to him, a vegan pasta dish he made earlier in the week. It was still steaming.  

“Thank you, beloved.” Damian took the container and sat down at the table, eyes scanning something on his laptop. If you had to guess, it was probably the drugs case the entire family had been working on recently. The two of you had hosted Dick the other day, up from Blüdhaven following the same case. He’d stayed in Damian’s room while the two of you crashed in yours. Dick was at the manor now, but he’d promised to stop by before he went back home. Some part of you figured it was at least partially motivated by the fact that you were inevitably going to be taking home leftovers tomorrow. Dick had tried some before and loved it. He probably wanted some. You didn’t blame him; you already planned to be hoarding your favorites for yourself. (And Damian. But mostly for you. Your family wasn’t vegetarian.)

The microwave beeped again. You pulled the second container out before grabbing forks and making your way over to the table. Your dinner was mostly the same as Damian’s, but with chicken added into the dish. The two of you didn’t always store leftovers that way, but sometimes it was easier to create two separate servings if you expected to be eating at different times. Damian scribbled a note down on the pad of paper next to him and closed the laptop. 

“We’re finally raiding the first warehouse tonight,” he offered, accepting the fork you held out to him. The paper and pen were pushed to the side before Damian started eating. 

“Oh yeah?” You asked around a bite of food. “So that stakeout paid off then?” 

“It did. But Dick and Timothy are following other leads tonight so this won’t be the end. But it should be a good start.” 

“Good,” you agreed. “I’ll be glad when the operation’s dismantled. You wake me up if you need me when you get home, okay?” 

Damian nodded. 

You weren’t sure you actually believed he would wake you, but you knew Babs would even if he tried to convince her not to. Sometimes you thought being friends with Oracle was the only way you stayed somewhat sane while dating a bat. She sent you injury reports. Alfred’s injury reports, not the lame ones Damian, his father, and his siblings wrote in an effort to not get yelled at by their friends or S/Os. 

Dinner didn’t take long. You loaded the dishes into the dishwasher as Damian collected his duffel bag for patrol. 

“Love you.” Damian pressed a quick kiss to your lips and another to your temple before ducking out the window. 

“I love you too. See you tomorrow.” 

There wasn’t secret bunker in your apartment. There was a significant amount of both weaponry and uniform equipment and outside direct access to transportation to one. You watched Damian’s bike disappear behind a false wall before turning back inside. It may not be Gotham-saving, but you, too, had stuff to do. 

The microwave clock declared it just after ten pm by the time you’d completed the handful of household chores you wanted done—the ones you expected to have time for until you got home late. You deliberated for a moment before grabbing two braids of cheese and a bowl that your dad had given you for that express purpose. You’d leave the other two out and string them in the morning. Leaving the cheese out all day had done its job. When cold, it would snap too easily when you tried to string it, and take much longer to do. 

The speaker that lived in the kitchen turned on with a swooshing noise and an acknowledgement that it was connected to your phone via bluetooth. It was a little late for anything too upbeat, but you found a good playlist after only a minute or so of looking through them. You tied back any loose hair, washed your hands, and grabbed a small paring knife from a drawer before sitting down at the table. The knife, sharp as it was, cut through the plastic packaging with ease. 

You moved the empty plastic off to the side and unraveled a twist, cutting each end so that you had two thick pieces a little under a foot long. The second braid was left whole for now. Once you got started, it would be harder to find pieces yet to be strung under the stringy parts already finished. So you’d break apart the larger pieces as you finished the ones before. 

Your music kept you company over the next hour and a half. The huge pieces were pulled apart into larger pieces then into medium pieces then into smaller pieces before finally being teased apart into the stringy texture that gave the cheese its colloquial name. It was just before midnight when you graded your efforts adequate. You poked one final time through the two braids worth of cheese and pulled apart any of the pieces you thought were just a little too big before calling it a day. 

The bowl was full, and you covered it in plastic wrap before putting it in the fridge. In the morning, when you did the remaining two, you’d have to start a new bowl. There was no sense in leaving already strung cheese out on the counter. You washed the knife and tossed the plastic wrappers in the trash before sending a goodnight text off to Damian. 

Goodnight, حبيبي, it read. Then, Be safe. There was no response. You didn’t expect there to be; he’d see it when he could, and you’d see him in the morning. 

Your bed was occupied by just you when you woke up which meant one of three things. Either Damian had gotten back too late that he would have woken you up by joining you, he’d gotten injured and knew he’d fail to hide it, or he needed a little bit of solitude. There was no injury report from Barbara when you checked your phone, but the little marker under your text to Damian from last night said that he hadn’t seen it until after three am, which meant it was probably four at the earliest by the time Damian had gotten to bed. You missed the warmth of waking up to him with you even as you appreciated his decision. It was only eight am now. You would have no doubt woken him up with your alarm. He desperately needed sleep, even if only a couple hours more. 

The remaining braids of cheese were in the same spot you left them on the counter last night. You moved them and a second bowl to the table, then grabbed yourself a bagel for breakfast. Your friends from New York disagreed, but you’d tried both and New Jersey bagels were far superior. 

It was half past nine by the time you finished scraping the hummus from your blender into various containers. One larger container would go with you and Damian to your grandfather’s house. The other one was staying in your fridge. Between the two of you, it wouldn’t last very long. You didn’t make hummus very often despite the fact that you both enjoyed it. What you could boast, though, is that you’d converted Damian to your family’s way of making it. Critiquing supermarket-available hummus became a shared habit. 

The completed bowl of string cheese fit perfectly in the fridge on top of the larger container of hummus. Most of the blender parts went in the dishwasher, and you set the cycle to rinse so that the hummus wouldn’t dry and congeal onto the plastic. The blender blade stayed on the side of the sink, already rinsed off. You’d wash it later. First, you had to finish the cheese. You opened your playlist from last night and hit play, bluetooth off this time. If it was loud, it would wake Damian. 

Damian’s bedroom door opened near silently when you were nearly done with the third braid. You took a momentary break to nudge the tea kettle on by pressing the button with your elbow before returning to your seat at the kitchen table. The bathroom door shut then opened again a few minutes later. His footsteps, quiet even in his home, meant that you didn’t notice him heading into the kitchen until he was already there. After months of living together and months before that where you might as well have been, your partner appearing silently beside you didn’t startle you anymore. 

You never got tired of seeing Damian without his guard up. It was an image only you and his family got to see: a Damian squinting in the morning light, hair a mess of waves that dried pressed against a pillow. The sight of him dressed in nightwing pajama pants and an old college t-shirt was yours, now. 

“Morning, my dear,” you greeted him. Small strands of stiff cheese stuck to your fingers. You picked them off and dropped them in the bowl before getting up to give your partner a hug, wrists bent awkwardly so that you wouldn’t touch his shirt with your hands. 

“صباح النور” Damian murmured, his arms heavy around your shoulders. Good morning. “What are you doing?” He asked as you let go. 

“Remember how I had to pick up cheese from my grandfather’s house the other day?” Damian nodded. “I’m stringing that. I wanted to get it done last night but I got home a little late. So I’m finishing it now.” 

You retreated back to your spot at the table, finishing the last of the third braid. Black caraway seeds were scattered around the table and you brushed them into your hand before returning them to the bowl. “The kettle should be done pretty soon. And your mug is on the counter.” 

Damian didn’t say anything until he sat down beside you, cup of tea in hand. 

“You’re stringing the cheese?”

“Yeah, it’s the thing I’ve been assigned to bring to the family events. I’ve been doing the stringing part since I was a kid but since I started living on my own I’d string it at home and bring it with me. And this year I’ve been upgraded to making hummus, too. I made a double batch so there’s a separate container for just us in the fridge.” 

“You went to a family birthday party months ago and didn’t bring it then,” Damian pointed out. 

“Yeah, if my aunts and uncles host the event,” you explained, “their family is technically supposed to string it. I mean, a lot of the time I’ll get there and they’ll ask me to do it anyway, but it’s not officially my job. And I don’t have to pick it up if it’s not my job. This is the first full family event that we’ve lived together for, I think.” You thought for a moment. “Wait, no, there was thanksgiving. But you were at the manor then.” 

Damian watched as you opened the fourth braid. The plastic wrapping joined the one from earlier. 

“I’ve just got this one left.” You cut both ends and pulled one of them apart. “Do you want to help? You’ve just got to wash your hands first.” 

Damian detoured to the sink before sitting in the chair beside yours.

“How does it work?” 

“You just kinda pull it apart and then keep stringing until it gets to be really thin.” You demonstrated quickly, stringing a small section of the larger piece you were holding until it resembled a pile of embroidery floss. 

“Like this, just for the whole thing. But it will snap if you try to brute force pull it instead of string it.” You handed him one of the larger pieces. “Here, you try this one.” 

Damian’s face of concentration sent a burst of warmth through your chest. He was following your instructions to perfection, entirely focused. It took effort not to burst into a full grin. You watched him for a moment before continuing on. Two songs went by on your playlist before Damian said anything. 

“This takes ages.”

You laughed. 

“Yeah, it does. Which is why I spent nearly two hours at it last night and we’re still doing it now. I’ve gotten so much faster at it, though. I can do two braids in less than an hour and a half. It used to take me an hour each. But it’s faster only if it’s warm. If I have to string it right out of the fridge, it’s harder to do.” You smirked. “And it tastes worse.”

Damian quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true. Ask my family members when you meet them later.” 

“I will not.”

A laugh burst out involuntarily. 

“Yeah, maybe having a debate with my family about food isn’t a great idea. They’d scare you off.”

“No they wouldn’t,” Damian argued, eyes lowered. “I have fought the League and the worst of Gotham—“

“And it’s still okay to be nervous meeting my family. But you know I don’t actually care what they think right?”

“Tt.” Damian stopped stringing to look at you. “They’re your family.” 

“Yeah, and so are you.” Your shoulder nudged his, hands still hovering over the half-finished bowl of cheese. “And I know for a fact that you know me better than most of them.” Damian scoffed a laugh. 

“I know more about you than your estranged cousins? What a great achievement,” he deadpanned. You rolled your eyes at him, returning to the piece you’d neglected. 

“You’re the first significant other in a long time,” you revealed after a moment. “My family is big, in a different way than yours, and they scare people off. So if a cousin brings someone to a holiday celebration, it means we’re serious about the person we’re bringing. All of my cousins-in-law are the people my cousins brought to gatherings like this.” In your peripheral vision, Damian stiffened. You kept stringing, anxiety twisting in your chest. 

“I should have told you that earlier, I’m sorry, I don’t even know if you’re fine with that implica-” 

Damian’s hand reached out to still yours. 

“حياتي,” he said, head dipping down to meet your eyes. “That’s okay with me.” 

“High-ah-tee,” you sounded out, repeating it back to him. “What’s that one?” 

Damian pressed a kiss to your lips. On instinct, your hands moved to cup his chin. Drying strands of the string cheese in between your fingers had you pulling back. 

“العمى,” now I have to wash my hands again. And you should wash your face, Dames.” 

“Be right back,” he said, moving quickly to the bathroom. You watched him go before turning to wash your hands. Damian hadn’t returned by the time you’d finished, so you moved back to the table, resuming working on the strand you’d left behind.

“You didn’t tell me what it means,” you reminded him as he sat back down next to you. “Hayati, that is.” 

“حياتي,” he said slowly, “means ‘my life.’” 

A smile split your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hey,” you began. Damian turned to you, mid stringing his own piece of cheese. “I love you.” 

Your partner’s lips quirked up into a grin. He pressed his forehead to yours for just a moment before turning back to the cheese. “I love you too.” 

“Now,” you mock-admonished, “if we don’t get this done in the next 45 minutes, we will be leaving late.  And my grandfather hates it when the cheese is late.” 

Damian huffed a laugh, following your lead as you returned the majority of your attention to the bowl in front of you. 

“Maybe we’ll beat your father there.” 

You barked out a laugh. 

“Oh, my grandfather would find that hilarious.” 

Damian’s smirk was visible even as you reached for another piece of string cheese. 

“A first impression that will be remembered, then.” 

“If we’re on time with the cheese and hummus? And your stringing skills are already pretty good? I think my grandfather will just never let you go.” 

“Lucky for him,” Damian said, grabbing the other half of the piece you’d just begun, “I don’t plan on that being a problem.”

[coffee-latte-sprite]

Damian Al Ghul and the Annoying Reporter

Series Masterlist

Epilogue

Aged up!Damian Al Ghul x fem!reader

WC: 2,000

Warnings: blood mention (nothing graphic, it was used as an example), language

Synopsis:

A year after the famous interview with Damian Al Ghul, life isn't as good as she thought it would be.

“Hello and welcome back viewers to Metro News. I am your host Camilia Carmen and here today with me is the CEO of People’s Press, Y/N L/N.” Camilia said as her bright smile stared back at the TV camera. 

“Hello everyone.” Y/N said as she sat by the TV primetime news anchor. 

“Thank you so much for taking time out of your incredibly busy schedule to speak with us today Y/N.” Camilia said as she turned towards her guest. 

Y/N smiled and waved her off, “Of course! I have been watching this show for years, big fan.” 

“Oh thank you! And we are very big fans of your new book and news outlet. Your book,” Camilia brought out Y/N’s book and showed it to the camera, “is now the #1 bestseller not only in the United States, but now in France, Germany, Italy, South Korea, and coming up into the ranks of other countries. How does this success feel for you?” 

Y/N blushed, “You know, this fame doesn’t quite feel like I am famous. Many people come up to me and ask me for an autograph and a picture and go on their way with some words of praise. The fame of my book though, did help my company to take off which I am truly grateful for.” 

Camilia jumped onto the transition segment.

Y/N has done so many interviews, she knows exactly how to transition seamlessly. 

“Yes, your company is also dominating as a news article distributor, the People’s Press. This company is also doing significantly well, even better than your competitor the Daily Planet. Its CEO has not given a statement to its recent surface of favoritism.” Camilia said with a twang of venom.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She proved all of them wrong. She proved her boss wrong, her parents, her best friend, and even her dog wrong. 

“My company truly is my pride and joy. I am glad I am able to create articles about our local and international news. I want to bring new and young and old voices alike to retell stories or their take on recent events. It has created a healthy work environment for all workers and everyone is benefiting from this, my writers and readers.” Y/N said with passion. Her joy was contagious as everyone in the room felt her extreme happiness for the new direction of news and diversity in voices. 

“Very well put Y/N. Also, speaking of new voices, in your groundbreaking novel, you brought a new voice to light and helped all of us have compassion for our enemies. Would you like to give a little explanation to your book, or inspiration?” Camilia asked as she sat back in her chair. 

“Oh of course! My novel, How to Shatter an Heir, is about my experience towards the heir of the League of Assassins. I wanted to expand on his personal stories and trama. He has experienced so much since the literal day he was born. He lost a childhood and a father. I wanted to show the world their is more to a villian than just a sword and blood.” Y/N said as her heart sped up faster. She couldn’t hear her own voice anymore, it was just the thrumming of her heart. 

“And you definitely accomplished that, but are you sure there was nothing else to this novel?” Camilia asked with a sly smile. 

Y/N deflated and anger rose up in the back of her throat. “Yes, in this novel I wanted to show how a person is more than their parents and who they have a relationship with.” Y/N said pointedly. 

Camilia picked up on the hint and dropped the subject, “Well, thank you so much for your time today Y/N and again, congratulations on your success, you deserve it all.” Camilia smiled and turned back to the camera, “thank you for your time today viewers, and remember, Superman, is for all.” 

===

Y/N walked down the rainy sidewalk as people ran past her with their hoods up and racing against the raindrops. Y/N didn’t mind, she was to lost in thoughts to care about her hair or jacket. 

Besides, the rain reminds her of when Damian left. 

She doesn’t remember what happened to her after she was kidnapped, she just remembers pain, being shot, then Damian’s embrace. After that,  all was fuzzy. 

She remembers waking up in a hospital and being all alone. She never saw Damian again, but all of the nurses kept saying how their was a man who was frantic in making sure she was okay. 

It was definitely Damian by the description, but she didn’t understand why he would leave her with nothing more than $1,000 to get home. 

Y/N was broken from her thoughts when her phone rang, she picked it up immediately. “Hello?” 

“Your dog hates me and you need to come home.” Jon said from the line as she heard Bella barking. 

After Y/N created her company, the Kent's son, Jon, knocked on her door and asked if he could work with her. And as one for cold revenge, Y/N hired him on the spot.

He was her personal assistant as he helped her with everything. She was honestly thinking of giving him the company if she were to retire anytime soon. 

“Bella does not hate you, she just misses me.” Y/N said as she laughed to herself. 

“Yeah, well come home.” He said bitterly. 

“You can go home Jon, I’ll be there in half an hour.” Y/N said as she stood under a near by awning. 

“Thank God! Okay, bye!” And the line went dead. 

Y/N laughed to herself and looked up at the rumbling sky. This is what fame and fortune felt like. 

Y/N then frowned.

If this is what it felt like, then why was it so lonely? 

===

Y/N kicked off her heels and threw her wet coat across the back of her couch. From her wealth, she was able to move from her little apartment to a penthouse suite, and from this she adopted more little furry friends, which Bella wasn’t 100% sold on as she liked the attention only on her. 

“Bells, I’m home!” Y/N yelled as she stretched out her back and legs. 

Only silence welcomed her back. 

“Bella?” She asked again as this was out of the ordinary. 

She then started to run around the suite looking for her dog. 

Then, as she got to her room, she saw a dark figure over Bella on her back. She screamed in terror as she picked up her lamp and chucked it at the figure. 

They cursed and jumped out of the way. 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” A man yelled. 

“Bella!” She screamed as she ran to her dog, who was very much alive and happy. She jumped up and was wagging her tail with her tongue hanging out. “Wait, you’re okay?” 

“Of course she is!” The man said again. 

She then turned to look at the intruder to stop in her tracks.

Before her stood a Damian Al Ghul in a tailored suite and slicked back hair. 

“Damian?” 

“The one and only. And I see your aim with your lamps has gotten better.” He said with a slight chuckle. 

She didn’t share the same happiness. 

All joy of seeing him left in an instant, “Get out, you have no right being here and breaking an entry.” 

Damian stilled as the smile dropped from his face. 

“Don’t you dare give me that look. You left me, remember? You left me in a country I didn’t know and I was scared. When I literally needed you the most of all of the time we were together, you were nowhere. All I got was that some man was worried about me, nothing else. So get out!” Y/N said as the sting of tears was strong, but she would not allow herself to cry, not in front of this coward. 

“I knew you would be mad,” He began. 

“And you still did it anyway?” She said coldly. 

He winced, “Yes, because Slade’s men were still after me.” He said reluctantly. 

Y/N stopped for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Slade was gone, but his ideology was still strong. All of his men were still after me, they thought you had died. I saw them in the lobby of the hospital, and I ran. Of course, they followed, I then . . . got rid of them. I wasn’t sure how many more of Slade’s men were still alive, so I left. I knew you were safer with me gone. I wish I stayed, you have no idea how that ate away at me.” Damian confessed as his shoulders slumped. 

The rain outside hit the glass harder as the room was drenched in darkness, but neither of them cared. 

“I then left for my father's in America. My mother, I knew, wouldn’t help me, so I left for my father’s. I didn’t know if he would help me, but apparently, he is known for his charity.” He said with an eye roll. “Father took me in with no questions asked and has housed me for over a year. He has been training me to become his successor since his first, second, and third son did not want the company.” 

“What is the name of the company?”

“Wayne Industries.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. Wayne Industries was the first company to invest in hers. She couldn’t believe it. 

“So, why are you back? Asking for a refund since I did get rich off of you.” She asked as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Damian coughed, “Actually no, you got rich on your own merit. Without your crazy, suicidal, idea of interviewing a murderer, you would not be crazy rich.” 

Y/N blushed, “Thanks, but why are you really here?” 

“Well, Titus misses you, and I thought you would like. . . to see him again.” Damain said awkwardly. 

“Oh, if it for Titus, then of course!” She said enthusiastically. 

“Although, there is someone else, someone very naive, stupid, and suicidal who also wanted to see you again.” 

Y/N paused, “who is that?” 

He paused, “Me.” 

“You?” 

“Me.”

“Why?” 

“This is so hard. Well, apparently, you have lasting consequences! You have weakened me and made me insomniatic with the thoughts of you!” He said exasperated. 

Y/N gaped, “W-w-what?” 

“You have,” he stepped closer, “bewitched me. Body,” he took another step, “mind,” step, “and soul.” His fingers pushed her hair behind her ear, “I’m in love with you.” 

Y/N's heart thundered in her chest as she was in sheer disbelief.

“And I wondered, are you in love with me too? Or am I a fool?” He asked if his heart echoed hers. 

Y/N smiled, “You are a fool.” His heart dropped, “but you are my fool.” And she leaned forward closer towards him, waiting for him to catch her, he did. 

“Well, how fortunate am I then.” He responded and leaned down to her lips. 

His lips ghosted hers as his heart squeezed, he wasn’t enough for her. No one was good enough for her. She deserved the world, she deserved all the stars in the sky. 

Y/N spoke, her voice barely heard, “you’re my universe.”

And Damian’s lips crashed into hers. Their lips locked together in perfect harmony as each of their souls shined bright. No storm, assassin, or mother could get between him and his annoyingly perfect reporter.

A/N: wow, this is it. This feels so unreal that this series is over. I have been doing this series for a year and this is the end. This is my favorite series I have ever written and thankful for the journey. I hope everyone loved it as much as me! <3

Taglist: @royalmuffinsworld / @rory-cakes / /@jasontoddsloverrr / @rivas0309 / @giselatropicana / @atlaincorrect / @acupnoodle / @geeksareunique / @1-800-cherri / @mymomsdisappointment / @dreamsdemxn / @hollyharper / @andysnewgroove / @cherriebat /@twilight-loveer

[birdy-bat-writes]

Can I Have This Dance?

Merry belated Chrysler and a very happy New Year to everyone! As a special little gift to @quillsareswords for our Christmas Fic Exchange. I was your secret Santa :D May I present to you, a jolly little holiday fluff! Hope you like it.

also, feel free to check out the other amazing writers posting for this fic exchange :) @glorified-red @quillsareswords @zombybird @citrinesparkles

Pairing: Damian Wayne (aged up) x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing really, I suppose bad grammar might be one:,D

Please like, reblog and comment, I literally love hearing from you! :) And if I make a mistake (which I probably did because yo girl is sleep deprived yeet) please drop it in the comments and I'll fix it asap. Live y'all!

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It was the week after Christmas and The Wayne family were all scattered around the country for their post-holiday-pre-new year’s tasks. Bruce was out on a business trip, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Tim were on vacation with their significant others, Alfred was making use of his spa resort gift card, and Barbara, Cass and Stephanie took a girl’s trip in Star City. That left you and your boyfriend, Damian, alone in Gotham. Don’t get me wrong, you were more than happy to be there. In fact, the two of you volunteered to stay back and take some time to recover from your semester finals. You were looking forward to staying with the Waynes and getting to see your family friends again.

Everyone was expected back by the 29th. One small problem: this was Gotham city; the land of unforeseen setbacks and a blizzard had snowed in all the runways at the airport.

Each member of the family was panicking at a different airport and it might have even been a little funny to watch it go down if you didn’t need everyone back for the New Year’s Party in 2 days. If they couldn’t get here before the 31st, which they couldn’t, you and Damian were going to have to decorate alone.

After getting off the phone with everyone you broke it down. You could spend today finding a catering service that could make it in this weather and fishing through the storerooms for decorations. And in Wayne Manor, that was a task. The storeroom was easily the size of a basketball court. Bless Alfred and his color-coded shelves.

On the 31st morning, the last of the preparations were being sorted. The food was tucked away in the industrial freezers and navy-blue carpet was laid out at every entrance, adorned with gold confetti-filled balloons. As you and Damian sat alone on the ballroom floor, untangling the last sets of string lights, you fully realized just how exhausted you were. After your finals, your days were a blur of packing, traveling, and trying to stay awake through every Christmas celebration you agreed (and regretted agreeing) to going to. You never truly had moment to enjoy your time with the family or even the one person you really wanted to be with: Damian. He must have seen you getting into your thoughts and pulled you out with some song suggestions.

“Okay, then, what’s your favorite slow song?”, he asked.

“I don’t even think I have one.”, you replied.

“There’s no way.”

“Of course, there is!”

“You don’t even have one slow song you love? Like a song you thought you’d play at your wedding or dance to with your prom date.” You silently nodded.

“I guess I never thought about it, and I didn’t really dance with anyone like that at prom.”

“You’ve…never slow danced?”

“Nope.” Damian almost seemed like he wanted to say something but decided against it at the last second. “What?”

“Nothing. I’ll be right back.” While waiting on him, you hung the set of lights and looked around the room proudly. Twinkling stars strung with lights from pillar to pillar, reflecting light off the marble floors and satin tablecloths. Not bad. Not bad at all.

You began turning on your heel to go find your boyfriend when you stopped in place, heart melting at what you saw. Damian was kneeling in the doorway with a handful of roses, wearing cheeky grin. “Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to tonight’s ball?”

“Damian, what are you doing?” There was no one around and no reason to be embarrassed, but you still felt your face heat up.

“At the moment, I’m hoping you’ll say yes so I can show you a magical evening, and slow dance with me.”

As shy as you felt, you couldn’t hold back a smile at what he said. Here was your boyfriend of 5 months, in a relationship well past the stage for formalities, down on one knee with flowers, asking you to a dance like a couple of high school sweethearts.

“Of course, I would love to.” You said softly. With that, you headed upstairs your get ready.

You chose a silky green gown that flared at the waist and paired it with a few simple pieces of golden jewelry. After styling your hair into some soft waves, you reached for your shoes and the tv remote. There was still time until guests would start arriving but if you flipped to some entertainment channel you were sure you would find some station covering the press and for the Wayne Gala. You were barely paying attention to the channels when you heard it.

“…the winds are only getting stronger, and roads are iced over, folks. Gotham city is now on snowstorm watch. We advise all citizens to stay home and stay warm.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. That’s when the landline started to ring back-to-back. The guests were sending their apologies and regrets for not being able to attend. You obviously understood, but you felt your heart sink a little. You had put in so much work for it all to go down the drain. Just then, you heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Damian walked in looking just as disappointed as you. He must have heard the news too.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetie.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. As far as I know, you can’t control the weather….or is that another secret you’re hiding from me?”, you joked.

“Yeah, I can control the weather and I choose to swing around the Gotham skies in -30 degrees at night. Great use of my secret superpower, don’t you think?” You two shared a laugh before getting Barbara’s call.

“Hey, you two. I’m so sorry, we just heard about the city shutting down.”, she said.

“Hey, Babs. It’s alright, are you still in the airport?”

“Well, we’re at an airport…”

“Who’s we?”, Damian asked. Barbara flipped the camera to face the whole Wayne family bundled up in scarves, huddled around their suitcases on the floor of some airport gate.

“All our flights got grounded in Metropolis. I’m sorry guy I don’t think we’re making it home tonight either.”

“Aww, well that’s okay. Just please stay warm and safe, okay?”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.” Damian turned to you with a look of sympathy.

“Well, I guess it all off then.” You whispered, kicking of the heels you barely finished putting on. “We should just go change into pj’s I guess.”

“We don’t have to.”

“Dami, no one else will be there. What’s the point of having a party alone?”

“We don’t need anyone else, the only person I really wanted to dance with will be there. That is, if she still agrees to accompany me tonight.” You looked at him, his eyes pleading with you. “We can play Axel F.”, he added, drawing a giggle from you. If nothing else, the two of you should get to enjoy the work you put into the place.

On the dance floor, Damian plugged his phone into the stereo system. He offered you his hand to Ed Sheeran���s Perfect.

The first few steps you took were slower than usual. He took you through an almost-waltz, twirling you around and sauntering across the room one step at a time. His hand never leaving yours. You wondered why you had never done this before. It was so much fun. Then again, maybe that had more to with your dancing partner than the dance itself.

You air-guitared and headbanged like rockstars, goofed around through a playlist on shuffle, and then box-stepped again to a Backstreet Boys song you would not stop making fun of him for.

“It’s a good song!”

“Whatever, babe, just remember you can never make fun of me for listening to Nickelback ever again.” Pulling in you in close enough to feel his breath on your skin, he said,

“The backstreet boys are infinitely better than Nickelback.”

“You wish.”

“I’m right and you know it.” That’s when the next song played, and it took you both pleasantly by surprise. Can I Have this Dance from High School Musical 3.

“I haven’t heard this song in ages.”

“Me neither. Wasn’t this one of your favorite movies?”

“Yeah, it was. I so wanted to be the main character in this. She was teaching Zac Efron how to waltz. That was probably the epitome of romance to me when I was younger.”

“Well, I’m no Zac Efron, but like the song says, can I have dance this dance?” taking his hand one more time, you took to the floor holding him even closer as if you didn’t want be away from him for even second. A little before the song came to close, you spotted the grandfather clock at the top of the staircase striking 11:59.

“Damian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Happy new year.” He turned towards the clock, seeing the seconds hand only a fourth of a rotation away from the new year. Smiling, he places his hand on your cheek.

“Happy, New year, Y/N.” and as the bell rang for midnight, he placed his lips on your and everything felt like heaven. Pulling him further into your embrace, you deepened the kiss. When you pulled away you said what he was thinking.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Not even a minute later, the doors to ballroom swung open and roughly 10 people scampered in, tracking snow. It was every member of the family and…Superman?

“It’s nice to finally see you, Happy New Year!” Duke exclaimed. When Damian wordlessly motioned to Superman in the corner, Dick answered,

“If anyone asks, we did not have superman fly us all to Gotham city in a broken-down school bus and there is not a school bus in our backyard. Don’t check.”

“Okay….” You wish you were surprised.

“Nice to have the family back together again.” Damian said squeezing your hand.

“Yeah, it really is.”

[strange-birb]

Had to when I saw the quote lol

I love Jason sm 😂

Og post @batfam-imagines

[gay-dorito-dust]

How these guys would react to having their face held…

Dick smiles out of habit and pushes his face even further into your hands, humming in content.

He loves it when you held him, however that may be, as it was the one thing he looked forward to the most when coming home.

He’s prone to frequent bouts of fatigue with patrols and the like, but it was moments like these where he could truly appreciate your touch and the healing properties they have on him.

‘I could spend forever here in your hands.’ He’d sigh as he allowed himself to relax within your touch.

‘Oh really? Is that so?’ You raised your brows, watching as the features within his face relaxed into a one that showed you just how exhausted Dick looked. You could see the toll his job his job took but you knew that Dick was too devoted, too attached to what he does to ever give it up, no matter how constantly drained and tired it made him.

You respect his decision to keep doing what he was doing but there came times where you’d just wish he would take a breather from it all, even if it was just for a second, you just wanted to take the weight off of Dick’s shoulders and put it aside for a moment while you work the tension out of his aching muscles.

‘Yeah.’ He responded, feeling himself sink further into sleep. Dick loved what he does but some times he resents it for leaving him with little to no time to spend with you, at least not without him falling asleep five minutes within the interaction. Time with you was sparse and all Dick wanted to do was spend as much of it as he could to make up for the fact that he was barely home at all during the day.

He knew that he prioritised being a hero over your relationship too often and he couldn’t help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt over it during your relationship. You didn’t deserve to wait up for him every night to make sure he was okay, not while developing heavy eye bags of your own and a lack of a sleeping schedule.

He just hopes that one day you too will realise that you better then what he’s giving you and put yourself first, but you were too selfless to ever do that and he could feel that through the way you trace his features with your fingers with featherlight caresses.

Jason stiffens beneath your touch and goes unresponsive for such a long time that you were worried that you had accidentally crossed a boundary.

So just as you were about to remove your hands from his face, Jason quickly reaches out to grasp your hands and pull them back to cupping his cheeks as he then proceeded to nuzzle his cheek against your palm.

‘Stay.’ He whispered. ‘Please.’

Your heart broke at his plea but obeyed as you began to stroke his cheeks with either of your thumbs, feeling him gradually relax under your touch until he was practically a puddle in your hands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whimpered, burying his face into your hands so that you didn’t see his tear stricken red face. ‘I don’t deserve this. None of it.’ He adds, cursing himself for being so pathetic but your touch practically broke him in the best way.

In your hands Jason felt as though all his broken prices were being put back together again through love, warmth and patience and that was enough to make him breakdown into tears.

Physical affection is a foreign concern to this poor man, and in due to that Jason is naturally going to be skeptical and on edge the moment the pads of your fingertips explore his jawline, before slowly coming up to cup his cheeks. ‘I’m right here Jaybridie.’ You utter softly as you felt his grip on your wrists slack a little. ‘I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere because nowhere is more important than staying here with you. Just take your time.’ And stay with him you did.

Damian is another one who’s not use to soft touches and sweet affection.

So he’ll initially be on guard when he saw you coming his way with your hands outstretched to cup his cheeks, but will huff and reluctantly rest his face in your palms, he’s extremely stiff while doing so and looking away from you out of initial embarrassment.

‘Get on with it.’ He’d mutter, acting as though such acts or moments of tenderness and vulnerability were beneath him, when in actuality Damian loved the feeling of you hold his face as though it were porcelain. He loved the fact that despite knowing his upbringing you still treat him with a love, kindness and warmth that he has never been shown before.

To Damian it was clear that you didn’t care if he was the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s al Ghul. You only cared about him, Damian Wayne and he could feel that care through your touch as he vowed to cut through anything and everything that intended to harm you.

Your touch brings him a sense of calm, serenity and peace that brought him back from the brink a plethora of times, especially in moments when his arrogance and brashness would resurface. Damian was thankful for you being in his life, a true guiding light in his darkest moments, and he couldn’t think of any possible way to thank you for everything you’ve done for him but he’ll surly try.

Bruce feels the tension behind his eyes and in his jaw sooth themselves under your touch.

His eyes would slowly close as he brought his calloused hands up to gently stroke the inside of your wrists. Bruce needs no words to describe how he felt because he feels as though his expressions and the noises of content made it clear how much he appreciated you being here with him.

‘You look tired.’ You commented, tracing the weary lines on his hard face with your eyes as he observed your face and the way it showed most of your innermost emotions whether you were aware of this fact or not.

Bruce knew that you worry and that you worry a lot about him in particular when it came to whether he was sleeping enough, eating enough and keeping himself safe whilst fighting on the streets of Gotham. Bruce knew he was as stubborn as mule when it came to his life choices and that you were only just worried about him because you cared for him, but sometimes he wished you would redirect all this effort towards yourself because he oftentimes didn’t think he was worth of your worry, nor your care.

Bruce felt as though he should be the one taking care of you rather than you taking care of him. It’s not as though he hates it, it’s just you’ve shown him on countless occasions of your care towards him, and on even more occasions you have shown him of your unwavering dedication towards him. Bruce also feels like he should be the one paying you back for all the hard times where you stood by his side, watching him practically work himself to the bone and almost into a comatose if you didn’t step in and deal him away from the computers.

For you’ve proven time and time again that you weren’t so easily swayed into leaving, and that was made more true when he felt comfortable enough telling you that he was Batman and the dangers that would come with knowing such knowledge. You however only shrugged and told him that by his side, you were the safest you’ve ever been or will ever be.

‘More so than usual?’ He asked in a way that it might as well have came out as an indignant huff.

‘And by more so than usual you mean constantly, then yes, yes you are more tired than usual.’ You replied as you ran your thumbs under his eyes and across his eye bags as if to emphasise your point. Bruce only huffs as he watched you take in all of him with nothing but love and affection in your eyes and your touch.

John would most likely bite your hand out of an inherent need to be a teasing little shit.

Will boast about the fact that you just wanted to touch up his stubble. He wasn’t lying but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that and instead say; ‘in your dreams John.’

‘Oh I’m sure I am in yours.’ He reply with confidence as he winked, causing you to lightly pinch his cheek as punishment for his cockiness. ‘I hate you.’ You’d say as you push your fingertips through his stubbly beard, enjoying the way it deliciously tickles your skin, almost as though they were little prickly kisses.

‘No you don’t sweetheart, try as you might but you and me both know that for definite that you love me.’ John would state in a matter of fact tone. Once again you hated how right he was, but kept your lips sealed shut as not to give him any more ammunition to tease and contradict you at any given opportunity than you’ve already have.

The air between you is playful and light in comparison to how cynical, sharp witted and sarcastic he usually is on a daily basis. It was a welcomed change as you allowed the blonde to pretend to bite your hand, only allowing for his teeth to barely graze your skin before pulling away with a sly smirk as you scratch at his stubble.

[damianwaynewife]

Bruce: How could you fail your test? I swear I really gonna give up for adoption.

Bruce: Simple questions. Look at this. If Amy had twelve cupcakes, where is her sister Anna?

Y/n: Reread the question

Bruce: If Amy had twelve cupcakes, where is her sister Anna? ....What the fuck Amy's sister got to do with the twelve cupcakes?

Y/n: .... Still gonna give me up for adoption or....

[marshmallow---pillow]

Murderer: Run if you want to live

Literally any Batkid: *starts sprinting*

Murderer: Like not towards me tho

[mammutblog]

damian is like this is so stupid i do not need to be accompanied by two idiots

[dc-and-arfrona]

Ace Wingmans

—-

Damian Wayne x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 700+

Masterlist

Summary: Ace gets you two to meet.

—

Damian Wayne, the young and enigmatic heir to the Wayne fortune, strolled through the park, his loyal canine companion, Ace, at his side. Ace was a spirited and playful dog, full of energy and enthusiasm, always by Damian's side.

On this particular day, as they wandered through the park, Ace's curiosity got the better of him. He slipped his collar and bounded towards a figure sitting on a bench. That figure happened to be [Y/N], a person who harbored an innate fear of dogs.

[Y/N]'s eyes widened in terror as Ace bounded towards them, wagging his tail with unabashed delight. Panic threatened to overwhelm them, and they instinctively curled into themselves, trying to shield their trembling form from the approaching canine.

Damian, observing the scene from a distance, noticed [Y/N]'s distress. His heart sank as he realized the predicament. He rushed towards them, his voice commanding and filled with concern. "Ace, stop! Stay!"

Ace skidded to a halt, his tail drooping in response to his master's command. Damian approached [Y/N] slowly, the worry etched on his face. "I'm so sorry. Ace usually doesn't do this. Are you alright?"

[Y/N] peeked up from their protective stance, tentatively meeting Damian's eyes. Their fear subsided slightly as they registered his genuine concern. "I... I'm okay. I'm just... scared of dogs."

Damian's brow furrowed with understanding. He motioned for Ace to stay put before crouching down in front of [Y/N]. "I apologize for Ace's behavior. He's usually well-behaved, but he must have sensed your fear. Dogs are perceptive creatures."

They nodded, their breath finally evening out. "It's not your fault. I've just had some bad experiences with dogs in the past."

A silence settled between them, interrupted only by the soft sounds of nature in the park. Damian contemplated the situation, his mind racing with ideas. He had always been fiercely protective of those he cared about, and he couldn't bear to see [Y/N] in distress.

"I have an idea," Damian said, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. "Would you be willing to give Ace a chance? Perhaps we can work together to help you overcome your fear."

[Y/N]'s eyes widened at the suggestion, uncertainty mingling with a spark of curiosity. "How?"

Damian smiled gently, extending a hand towards them. "Let's start by taking small steps. I'll guide you through interacting with Ace, and we'll go at your pace. You don't have to face your fear alone."

Trepidation and hope warred within [Y/N], but they reached out, accepting Damian's hand. It felt warm and reassuring, a connection formed in the face of fear.

Together, they approached Ace, who watched them with cautious eyes. Damian crouched down beside the dog, his voice soothing as he introduced [Y/N]. "Ace, this is [Y/N]. They're a friend, and we want them to feel comfortable around you."

Ace tilted his head, seemingly understanding his owner's words. With Damian's guidance, [Y/N] gradually mustered the courage to stroke Ace's fur, their touch hesitant but growing in confidence.

As minutes turned into hours, [Y/N]'s fear subsided bit by bit. Damian stood by their side, offering encouragement and support. Ace, sensing their newfound comfort, showered them with affectionate licks and gentle nuzzles.

By the end of the day, [Y/N] had taken significant strides in overcoming their fear of dogs. Damian watched with admiration, proud of their progress and grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed.

In that park, amidst fears faced and barriers broken, Damian realized that sometimes the unlikeliest of encounters could lead to the most profound connections. And with [Y/N] by his side, he knew that together they could conquer any challenge, their bond stronger for having faced their fears head-on.

[ragingbookdragon]

3 or 18 for damian and batsis please!! thanh you so much ✨💞

you're welcome!!

18. Squishing the other's cheek

***

She sat down beside Damian on the porch step and joked, “You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that, kiddo.”

Damian merely huffed and pulled his knees to his chest, propping his chin on them. “I’m not in the mood, sister.”

“Worrying,” she noted. “You usually are.” She looped an arm around his neck. “Talk to me, baby bird. What’s ruffling the feathers?”

His expression went from calm to pinched and he asked, “Is there something wrong with me?”

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific in what you’re referring to, baby bird, cause if we’re talking about mental status, I think we are all wack, to be honest.”

Damian looked at her. “I’m fifteen.”

“Last time I checked? Yeah?”

“It’s normal for me to have…attraction to people at this age, right? Attraction with…romantic intent?”

She tipped her head side to side. “I mean, I’d like you to wait for that type of attraction at least until you’re eighteen. But yeah, you’re a growing boy. It’s normal to feel that.”

Damian nodded. “Yes, except, I don’t feel it.”

Her brows furrowed and she asked, “Like the attraction isn’t there? No urge?”

“None. I am not interested in…that.” He seemed scared. “Is something wrong with me?”

Her heart ached for her brother, and she pulled away to turn on the porch, so she was facing him. “Damian, there is nothing wrong with you. What you’re describing, I think you may be asexual. Means you have a lack of sexual attraction to others.”

His head tipped to the side, and he offered, “Like Connor? Green Arrow’s son?”

She nodded. “Yeah, like Connor. It’s a perfectly normal and valid orientation to have and be. It doesn’t mean you’re broken or faulty.” Gently, she took his face in her hands and brushed her thumbs over his cheeks. “And don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

He nodded, asking quietly, “Father won’t be angry, will he?”

“Of course not, you goober. Dad loves all of us for who we are, you know that.” She smushed his cheeks. “Come on, let’s go look everything up online so we can get down to the bottom of it and satisfy that spirit, alright?”

Damian made a noise and dropped his head in her hands. “Can we stay for a few more minutes? This is comfortable.”

She snorted. “Sure, baby bird.”