Baby Damian one-shots

Famous Little Wayne

The moment Damian Wayne was revealed to the public, his life changed in ways he couldn't have understood, not yet, anyway. It had started with that gala, where he had been thrust into the spotlight without warning. And now, the ripple effects of that night were everywhere.

The media was relentless, pouring over every detail of Bruce Wayne's life—and now, his son. Damian's picture was on every newspaper, magazine, and news outlet, his small face plastered across Gotham's billboards. Every time Damian stepped out in public with Bruce, cameras flashed in his face. The world knew who he was now, and he hated it.

"Damian Wayne—son of Bruce Wayne, heir to the Wayne legacy," they called him. And while the words were often spoken with awe, even reverence, they felt like chains to the little boy who simply wanted to play with his toys and spend time with his father.

In the Wayne Manor, things hadn't changed much. Bruce was still the same steadfast father, holding his son close and making sure he felt loved and protected. But Damian couldn't escape the feeling that the world had started watching him. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

One evening, Bruce took Damian to a park just outside of the city—far enough away from the cameras, but not enough to hide them completely. They were joined by Selina, who had become like family in the weeks since the gala. It was the only place Damian felt free enough to run around without feeling like the whole world was staring at him.

But the whispers followed them, even here.

"Isn't that Bruce Wayne's son?" a woman whispered to her friend. "I heard he's a genius. He's only three, but they say he's going to take over the company one day."

The mention of his name made Damian wince. His little hand curled into Bruce's, seeking reassurance, but Bruce just smiled softly, bending down to Damian's level.

"You're okay," Bruce said, his voice soft. "You don't have to listen to them. You can just be you."

Damian nodded, but the weight of being "Damian Wayne" pressed heavily on his small shoulders. He wanted to be like any other child, running free, without anyone asking him questions or expecting things from him.

But there was no going back now.

Back at Wayne Manor, even the house staff treated him differently. Alfred, ever the comforting presence, still doted on him as he always had, but even he couldn't shield Damian from the attention. There were new security measures, more cameras around the mansion, and, most importantly, a public image to maintain. Bruce, while still incredibly loving, had to give speeches about Damian's place in the Wayne legacy, attend meetings about his future, and field questions from the press—all things that made Damian's head spin.

One evening, after a particularly long day of press conferences and business calls, Bruce returned home to find Damian playing quietly in his room with his Batman doll, clutching it tightly in his little arms as he sat cross-legged on the floor.

Bruce approached quietly, kneeling beside him. "Hey, kiddo," he said softly, not wanting to startle him.

Damian looked up at his father with wide eyes, his lips forming a small frown. "Papa, when will they stop asking about me?" he asked, his voice small but filled with curiosity. "I don't want to be famous."

Bruce's heart ached for his son, knowing how difficult this all must be. He pulled Damian into his arms, holding him close. "I know, Damian," Bruce murmured, rubbing his back. "But you don't have to worry. You'll always be my son. No matter what the world thinks, you're still just you. And I'll always protect you."

Damian nestled into his father's chest, comforted by the warmth and security he found there.

He was famous now. The world would never stop watching. But in his father's arms, he knew that some things—like love and safety—could never be taken away.

For now, that was enough.