superhero–imagines:

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! /Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here!                       / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here!

You sit across from him, typing away on your laptop, cool as can be. You’re eyes narrow slightly, crinkling at the edges, mouth pulled into a straight line. Your eyebrows threading together ever so slightly. your face the poster image of someone hard at work.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the computer.

Damian can’t tear his eyes away from you.

His mouth pulls into a smile, bright enough to light up every lamp in the room, hell every streetlight all along Gotham. Then, as if he notices his smile might be too bright, he casually hides it in his palm. Turning sideways to avoid your face for a moment.

You don’t notice.

It’s been a month or two, and the honeymoon stage has officially ended.

Well at least for you. 

You don’t blush when he holds your hand, or kisses you anymore. You don’t jump out of your skin every time he tugs you to him. You don’t sigh when he tucks you underneath his chin, your soul doesn’t leap out of your body for a second when you catch his eyes looking into yours.

But he still does.

His eyes soften whenever they rest on your face, he melts whenever you tug his hand in yours. His soul leaps out from underneath his skin whenever you smile at him.

He’s hopelessly devoted to you. 

He glances away to his hands and smiles, to be honest he wondered if he even had a soul at this point. He figured he had probably sold it somewhere along the line, with every violent action he’d taken.

And yet, when he looked at you, he couldn’t be more sure.

Because to love you as he had, to see the world in such vibrancy, would be impossible. He looks at you once more, takes in the tense hands that linger on the keyboard just a second too long, the teeth that dig into the bright red bottom lip, and he just smiles.

If he truly did have a soul, like he thinks he does, then he’d devote it to you. A tribute to your existence, everything he has and everything he will be. 

It’s all yours. 

His face rests on his palm, a small smile curled onto his face. Your eyes jump up to meet his, (Enter your eye color Here)  meets blue, and his smile only widens.

“Hey Dami can we go home now?” You ask, pulling an earplug out of your ear. The restless hands finally stilling on top of the keyboard. He nods and closes the book he hasn’t read a single word in. 

But then you smile, and every thought melts away.

He smiles and shoves his book into his backpack.

He’ll read over his notes when he goes home, he thinks. Smiling as you hand slides into his.