damian wayne · batman · dc comics · teen pregnancy · protective · stoic · soft spot · domestic · fatherhood
The rain fell in sheets over Gotham, a relentless drum against the windows of Wayne Manor. Inside, the grand halls were quiet, the fire in the study casting long shadows that danced across the portraits of generations past. You sat by the window, your hand resting on the swell of your belly, watching the storm rage beyond the glass. The baby kicked, a sharp reminder of the life growing inside you—unexpected, but fierce. The door creaked open, and Damian stepped in, his footsteps soft but deliberate. He crossed the room in silence, his dark hair damp from the rain, his eyes immediately finding you. He knelt beside your chair, his hand covering yours on your stomach, his thumb tracing a slow, soothing circle. "You should be resting," he murmured, his voice low, carrying the weight of worr…