Damian Wayne X Batmom - Tumblr Posts

I am living for this series

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 (?) 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 (but patience).

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A small collection of stories like Batmom! Scarlet Witch as a mother for het children unintentionally but not by accident, and how it started.

Being a member of the Wayne family comes with its quirks. Being Bruce Wayne's wife has twice the quirks when you consider your husband's nocturnal activities, and it's this second category of quirks that usually concerns you the most. Or at least that's what you thought would happen when you married him. But it turns out that being a retired vigilante yourself and already knowing everything that Bruce was Batman implied, it turned out that the other side of the coin was the one that began to bother you the most.

¿Your husband goes out every night dressed as a giant bat and comes back just before the sun rises? No problem, you handled that like a champ. 

¿The city press, who are desperate to know about the woman who finally put Gotham's prodigal son off the market and how the marriage goes every moment of every day?. Yeah, you hadn't been ready for that.

Over the years you got used to the drama and the questions, it helped that you could read their minds before they asked the question for your response planning. But there was one question that haunted you from the first official gala you and Bruce attended after the wedding (which was less than two weeks after the wedding, by the way): ¿When are you going to be pregnant? ¿When do you plan to have a child? ¿Can we soon expect ball gowns to become looser soon for a bulging belly with a Wayne heir?

And so for infinity.

The answer had been maybe or someday, considering that they were both of you still young and in no rush. In truth, tho, you two had never really considered the possibility of having children. Bruce didn't feel fit to be a father for many reasons. And the possibility of you passing your powers to a biological child was too high to risk. So it was never a card on the table to have children together when you got married, and you both were fine with that. There were talks about adopting as a possibility, but far in the future, like it was almost like a fantasy you two knew that would probably never happen anyway.

But then, things happened…

ACT ONE: a boys tale.

chapter one is Richard “Dick” Grayson

chapter two....... (coming soon)

chapter three....... (coming soon)

chapter four....... (coming soon)

ACT TWO: is a girls world.

chapter five....... (coming soon)

chapter six....... (coming soon)

chapter seven....... (coming soon)

TAGLIST: If someone wants to be added or removed from this list, they can request it, is OPEN.

@some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @randomboostsofmotivation @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @calsjack

A Little Company (Damian Wayne and Batmom)

Request: No

On most occasions, you spent your nights alone, with the exception of when you spent the night at the Manor. Those scenarios had been few and far between as of late, much to your disheartening. It seemed as if the family was falling apart, bit by bit, and there was only so much you go do to aid your hurting loved ones. It also seemed that you spent most of your time being angry at Bruce, whether he was being reckless on a mission, or fighting with one of his sons.

You bit your bottom lip hard as you stood over the stove, the spoon in hand whirling around the bubbling soup you were making for yourself. Your apartment was quiet, and eerily so. Usually one of the boys or girls were around. Dick, who stopped by for dinner with you at least twice a week, was no longer in Gotham, nor did he remember you to begin with. Let alone, himself. Jason, who often fell asleep on your couch when he was lonely, had been unceremoniously kicked out of Gotham City by his father. Tim and Stephanie were also no longer in the city. Barbara and Cassandra were far too busy- now that there was a low of vigilantes in the city they had extra work. You paused in the making of your soup for a moment, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling as you willed back tears- you missed them. Your children.

Dumping the contents in the pot into a white and blue ceramic bowl, you sat at one of the many empty chairs in your kitchen, attempting to bring your focus to the television that played in the living room. It was hard to make out the words that were rolling at the bottom of the screen, but from what you could understand, you gathered that the Riddler was up to something again. You contemplated for a brief moment grabbing your suit and pursuing the case yourself, but with that thought came the immediate realization that Bruce would probably already be on it, and you weren’t keen on the idea of working with him. His brutal fight with Jason still caused your stomach to twist in knots.

The night remained calm as you ate your dinner and glared at the television, trying hard to keep your mind from wondering where Jason was, if he was alive, or if Dick was starting to remember who he was. You slammed your hand against your forehead and stood abruptly up from the chair. Moving towards the fire escape, you pushed open the window and slipped out of the apartment.

There had been a storm, as there usually was, but by some miracle, the sky had cleared up as much as it could in Gotham, and the night sky was somewhat pretty as a result. Sitting on one of the steps of the fire escape, you leaned back a bit and let your eyes wander about the night sky. The moon was a hazy color, the pollution of the city ruining the true, beautiful color of it. Instead of a silver color, the moon had an orangy tint to it, ugly, and unappealing. The stars did not twinkle, instead, they were a dull light in the vast darkness of the sky. Gotham, in and of itself, was hideous. Truly wretched in the way it looked, and in the way it worked. Crime and grime, you joked to yourself, though it was the sad truth of the matter. Gotham was entirely made up of both crime and grime, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that, only to stall it from getting worse. To halt the highway of criminals, and the villains who controlled their brain-dead bodies. If Gotham could be described as any sense, that which you could experience as a person, you would choose taste- that taste being bile. But there was some part of you that loved the city and commanded you stay.

While you had been busy cursing the city, you had failed to hear the grapple hook latch onto and release the fire escape you sat on. Robin, in his true bird-like nature, sat perched on the railing, eyeing you curiously, waiting for you to take notice of him. When you failed to do that, he sighed and dropped his shoulders.

“Absurd that you would sit outside without a coat of some sort,” he remarked, his voice causing you to startle. You rested a hand against your chest, where your heart pounded, once you realized who it was you let out a breath. You didn’t even need to look back at him to know it was Damian. You would be able to pick his voice out in a crowd of people- his voice carried like no other. “You will catch a cold.” He was probably right, the air was cold and dry, the way the storm had left it. It burned your throat as you inhaled deeply.

“I guess,” you replied to the young boy, nodding your head. Slowly Robin crept toward you, his stance still tense, and ready to fight, though, when did Damian not look like that? Even under his hood and mask, you could make out a confused expression.

“Why are you out here?” he asked, the wind pushing his hood down, revealing more of his face, and messy hair. He looked so young, his skin still soft and unscarred. He hadn’t had a growth spurt yet and remained a whopping five foot nothing. Even his voice was still young sounding, though the words he often spoke told a story otherwise.

“I came out to look at the sky, Robin,” you said, sliding over on the step so he could sit next to you. “Shouldn’t you be fighting criminals right now?” Damian frowned as he sat next to you, letting out a huff, remaining slightly arrogant.

“Father sent me home for the night,” he replied, he sounded bothered by this. Whereas Dick and Jason might have liked being sent home a bit early to catch up on sleep, Damian and Tim would both rather be out fighting criminals all the time.

“So why aren’t you home?” you asked raising an eyebrow, “Not that I am telling you to leave.”

“I...don't know. I suppose I just don’t want to. I do not feel like being reprimanded by father tonight.” So he was avoiding facing Bruce for whatever he did. You didn’t necessarily blame him, you knew first hand how argumentative Bruce could be. You hummed in response to the boy, pulling him in to lean against your shoulder, to which he rested his weight against you.

You weren’t sure what it was that you did to gain Damian’s trust and respect, but you were glad you had done it. Damian didn’t hand out affection easily, or really ever, but he felt comfortable enough to confide in you. To seek out affection specifically from you. You supposed he knew you were a mother, and saught you out due to his lack of one. You considered Talia a friend, but her lack of presence in her son’s life irked you. The way she trained him to fight since he was a baby- it felt wrong to you. So you offered him a place where he didn’t have to fight, nor where he would be under the watchful and judgemental eyes of his mother and father. You weren’t positive he viewed you as another mother, but you welcomed him in any way, no matter the circumstance. Just as you had done with his brothers and sister.

As he leaned into you, you took notice of how cold his cheek was and grew concerned. You would suck it up if you caught a cold, but he shouldn’t catch one, he becomes miserable when he is ill. Nudging him a bit, you nodded towards the window.

“Let’s go inside.”

After entering the apartment, Damian pulled his domino mask from his face, revealing glossy green eyes that reminded you of Talia. His brows were almost always furrowed, in a look of deep thought or annoyance, it was hard to tell which it was sometimes. As he flopped down into one of the chairs in front of the television, he let his hood fall off his shoulders and drape across that floor, the pool of black and yellow fabric falling soundlessly. As the boy slumped into the chair further, he let his limbs go limp, and his lower lip jutted out into a pout. You glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Are you hungry?” you tried, motioning to the extra soup left in the pot. You planned on keeping the soup for leftovers the next day, but you were willing to feed a potentially hungry child. Damian peered over the side of the seat.

“What’s in it?” he asked. Right, Damian had a vegetarian diet.

“Don’t worry, it’s vegetarian,” you smiled, to which Damian proceeded to dramatically slide off the chair. He limply scooted to the floor, before hauling himself off the floor and straightening up his position and making his way to the kitchen where you stood. Your smile faltered a bit, taking notice how unlike himself he was being. You contemplated questioning him on the matter but decided against it- the Wayne’s didn’t like talking about feelings.

Handing Damian a bowl from the cabinet, he dumped the rest of the contents in the pot into the bowl. With a hum of approval, he sat at the table and began to practically drink all the soup in a span of two minutes. You kept your lips sealed tight as you watched him, growing more concerned, and couldn’t help but ask- it was against your nature.

“Are you alright, Damian?” you questioned, sitting down on a wooden chair next to his. He set down the bowl, dropping the spoon into it with a clank. Eyes scanning his face, you couldn’t decide what he might be thinking.

He shook his head, “Fine,” though he did not sound fine. You cocked your head to the side, giving him a look of sincerity. “I am simply frustrated with Father.”

You weren’t sure what it was that Damian did to be sent home so early, but clearly, the act of being punished was bothering the small vigilante.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” There was a pause in the conversation- longer then it should have been. For a moment you thought that Damian had ignored your question, but you held your apology in when he grimaced.

“He says that I am ‘too angry’, whatever that means. Any decent person, with a respectable set of morals, would be angry with criminals. Especially the kind we were dealing with tonight,” Damian begins, using his hands to emphasize what he was saying. You nodded along as he spoke. “I didn’t kill anyone. That’s the rule, and I followed it. There was no solid reason to send me home early, I did nothing wrong!” Damian’s voice cracked on the last word. Dropping his arms back to his sides, he let out a groan.

It was an argument you were all too familiar with- it was the same one Bruce had with Jason when your older son was still Robin. Jason didn’t think he was angry, nor did he think he was being violent beyond the allowed amount. Damian had suffered the same complex when he was first brought into the crime-fighting business but had seemingly gotten over it. Until now, you supposed. You pushed your lips together into a straight line and stared at the boy who rested one cheek against a clenched fist.

“Well, Damian, you know my opinion on the matter,” you began, “and I do not intend on yelling- your father seems to have under control. But I will say that whatever it is that is making you angry- which something clearly is, don’t argue- it isn’t as important as being Robin. You love being Robin, and whatever it may be occupying your free time, might cost you the title. You don’t have to keep your anger inside either, Damian, you can talk about it. With whoever. I know Dick isn’t around anymore, but there are other people willing to listen.” Damian stared at you with intensity as you spoke, his green eyes focused on yours. You weren’t sure if what you were saying was helping anything, but it felt like the correct thing to say. It is what you would’ve said to Jason before he died if you had known better at the time. You finished with a sincere smile.

Damian didn’t say anything, only nodded once, and picked up his bowl. He jumped off the chair and made his way to the kitchen where he placed the now empty bowl into the sink. You watched him from where you still sat, waiting to see if he was going to respond to the words you had spoken to him. He gathered up his mask and cape from the floor and fixed his costume. Placing the mask back over his eyes, and pulled his hood back up over his head, he resumed his Robin persona.

You stood up, going to bid him goodbye for the night. Opening the window back up, you were greeted by a cold gust of wind pushing its way into your apartment. When you turned back to face Damian, you were abruptly engulfed in a hug, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head rested against your chest. Quickly you wrapped your own arms around him, a smile forming on your mouth. It was a rare occasion that Damian handed out hugs, but when the occasion did arise, you tried to enjoy the moment as much as you could. He held onto you for what seemed like a long time, though you were accepting of that. He continued to remain silent, even as he unwound himself from you and slipped out of the window, swinging off the fire escape and into the dimly lit streets of Gotham. You noted that he was not going in the direction of the Wayne Manor, though you chose to ignore that detail.