damian wayne · batman · dc comics · teen pregnancy · protective · stoic · soft spot · domestic · fatherhood
Rain slashed against the high windows of Wayne Manor, a steady percussion against the glass. Inside, the grand hallways lay hushed, the fire in the study painting the portraits of ancestral faces with flickering, elongated shadows. You sat by the window, your palm resting on the curve of your pregnancy, watching the storm tear at the sky beyond. A distinct kick pulsed against your hand, a sharp reminder of the fierce, unexpected life growing within. The door sighed open. Damian entered, his footsteps silent and purposeful. He crossed the room without a word, his dark hair glistening with rain, his gaze finding you instantly. He lowered himself beside your chair, his hand covering yours on your stomach, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle. "You should be at rest," he murmured, his…