Lost in the Void, Found in the Stars | Damian Wayne Oneshots

Mistletoe | Reader

Still with the damn mistletoe

Summary: It’s Christmas and you’d handcrafted a gift for Damian, naturally.

.・。.・゜✭・»»——⍟——««.・✫・゜・。.

The box felt heavier than it should have in your trembling hands, as if the sheer weight of your nerves had somehow settled inside the glossy wrapping paper. You shifted from one foot to the other, hesitating in front of Damian. He sat cross-legged on the edge of the bench in Gotham Botanical Gardens, his sharp features softened by the orange glow of the setting sun.

He raised an eyebrow as you lingered, his green eyes cutting through you with their usual intensity. But the slight tilt of his head suggested he didn’t mind your presence. “Are you going to stand there all evening, or do you have a purpose?”

“I, uh…” You thrust the box forward, nearly stumbling over. “I got you something.”

Damian blinked at the offering before taking it with both hands, his movements precise, almost ceremonial. He studied the wrapping, running a thumb over the edges. The soft scratch of his nail against the paper sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s not laced, is it?”

You gasped, eyes wide and horrified. Damian smirked faintly at your reaction, clearly amused. “Relax, I’m joking. Thank you.”

You mumbled something incoherent as he untied the ribbon with careful deliberation, the kind people usually reserve for disarming a bomb. The paper fell away to reveal a plain, unassuming box. He lifted the lid and stopped, blinking at the contents.

Inside was a handcrafted replica of mistletoe, each leaf sculpted from green enamel, the berries shining like tiny pearls. You had spent weeks perfecting it, cursing your shaky hands every step of the way, and now you wished you’d just gone with something safe, like socks.

Damian’s lips twitched upward, the rare hint of a smile breaking his usually stoic expression. He plucked the mistletoe from its cushioned nest and held it between his fingers, turning it to inspect the craftsmanship.

“Did you make this?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, suddenly very interested in the ground. “I thought, uh… it’d be… festive.”

A gentle breeze rustled through the nearby trees, carrying with it the faint chirping of birds settling in for the night. For a moment, where was a pause, and when you dared glance up, Damian was standing.

He held the mistletoe high above your heads, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “It’s tradition, isn’t it?”

Your brain short-circuited. You opened your mouth to say something but all that came out was a strangled squeak. Damian’s gaze bore into you, expectant but patient, as though he had all the time in the world for you to collect yourself.

Well. No backing out now.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, and you find yourself pulling back almost immediately. Your face was on fire, and you couldn’t meet his eyes, though you swore you saw his smirk grow sharper in your peripheral vision.

“That’s not how it works,” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process what he meant, Damian dipped his head and kissed you with no hesitation. The pressure was soft but firm, and it left your heart racing and your knees dangerously wobbly. It was as if he had planned this, his movements too precise to be spontaneous.

When he finally pulled back, you found yourself chasing his lips, not quite ready for the moment to end. He studied your face for a moment, his expression unreadable. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair, and you found yourself momentarily mesmerized by the way it caught the light.

Then, with maddening ease, he pocketed the mistletoe and said, “I’ll be keeping this.”

You stared at him, utterly dazed, as he turned to walk away, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. He paused at the wrought iron gate, glancing back over his shoulder with a faint smile.

“Thank you for the gift. It’s… perfect.”

End