#Damian Wayne x Jonathan Samuel Kent

[crimsonbluuu]

It's kind of cold, man - Damian x Jon

Damian is cold, and he’s sick. Not sick enough to the point he’s bedridden, but sick enough that he doesn’t feel like getting in and out of bed.

He does anyway, and makes most of the rest of his time; then Jon comes back to the apartment and makes everything just a tad bit better.

(1,903 word count)

Warnings!

< Grammatical errors

< May or may not be somewhat ooc

read here, or on ao3!

Damian coughs into his hand for the seventh time this morning, still wrapped underneath the red duvet on Jonathan’s bed. The sun was setting slowly, its evening glow shining through the curtains in the small room. Damian shivered, snuggling farther into the covers. Jonathan had left hours ago, rambling about something to do with school.

And while his boyfriend was out doing God knows what, with God knows who, Damian was stuck in the other’s small apartment building that was a nice fifteen-minute walk away from the university he attended. Besides, Damian was content with lying down underneath the covers that provided warmth, unlike the rest of the apartment.

For some damned reason, Jon’s apartment was as cold as the Arctic; his heat refused to work. Damian blames it on the landlord, and Jon blames it on no one.

Why? because Jon is a saint, even though it’s obvious the landlord hasn’t updated the heater, Jon refuses to acknowledge it. So yes, Damian would much rather be in his very warm, insulated penthouse, with his silk covers and blackout curtains.

Despite his previous statements, he's very tempted to throw the covers off, dress in something warm, and leave the apartment as quickly as possible for his penthouse two hours away in Gotham. But he doesn't; instead, he throws the covers off of himself and throws on the closest thing he can find—a sweater and sweat pants.

He would hate to admit it, but the only thing he practically feels like doing at the moment is crashing down on Jon's hand-me-down couch and watching reality TV shows. Dick has rubbed off on him way too much. So he does exactly that, in that exact order.

Time flies by when you're being lazy and doing nothing. Especially when The Housewives of Atlanta plays in the background and the only thing Damian is "getting" from the show is a loss of brain cells, suddenly it explains why Richard originally thought that fish didn't have mouths.

And it just happens that when he's on the verge of going to sleep, after ignoring his soar throat and pulsing headache, he hears the familiar jingle of keys from outside the door and comes walking in a ball of sunshine.

The sun has already set, and the moon rises in its absence. Jon comes in humming some old country songs that he undoubtedly picked up from Jonathan Sr. He walks a short distance from the front door to the makeshift living room and collapses onto the couch, directly on top of Damian.

"Get off of me, you fat lug," Damian says, almost on instinct, since whenever Jon comes home and he just happens to be relaxing, not bothering him, he prefers to literally fall on him when he walks in.

"What happened to Hi, Hello, How are you?" Jon laughed, wrapping his arms around Damain's torso like an octopus. Damian sighed, rolling his eyes, but made no noise in protest as Jon did whatever he was doing.

Jonathan glanced up at him, smiling. His stupid glasses making him look dorky, with his dopey smile and doughy eyes, and the way his arms held tightly around Damian, as if he didn't want to—as if he wasn't going to let the other go.

"Missed you, dames." He smiled, gently kissing the other on his cheek, his lips lingering just for a moment before he laced his head back down on Damain's chest. Damian patted his head, lowering his head just a bit to give a soft kiss on the crown of Jonathan's head.

"Hm." Damian replied, not worrying about his lack of speech. Jonathan knew how Damian felt about him; words weren't a necessity in their relationship; they fit snuggly like a puzzle piece, like a dopey couple costume, like grapes to fine wine.

"What's this even about?" Jon questioned, watching the TV screen with a confused gaze. Damian shrugged; he'd lost focus from it the second he saw Richard watching it in the manors den at a quarter past five in the morning. At this point, he just turned it on for background noise.

"I'm not sure, though I think Richard would gladly discuss the meaning of the show with you." Damian smirks, and Jon quickly dismisses the idea. Everyone knows, or at least everyone who has ever had the grace of meeting Richard, that when he's passionate about something, whether it be a TV show or a new fighting technique, he won't shut up about it.

It's certainly not a bad thing, either. It just goes to an extent that no one expects overtime. Damian vividly remembers briefly mentioning that he appreciated the art of music, and the very next day there were a dozen books on the art of music stacked near his bed and several guitars.

"No- no thanks. I remember the last time I talked about something I liked with Dick, and at like three in the morning he was standing outside the window with a koala bear." Damian couldn't help but furrow his brows in confusion at Jon's experience.

"What now?" He questioned, slightly sitting up on the couch; his expression was the pinnacle of confusion, and he made sure Jon realized this.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I swear to baby Jesus that your brother showed up with a koala bear," Jon swore, and he sounded like he was on the verge of laughing and crying at the same time as he looked at Damian's expression.

"It's illegal to own a Koala Bear; how'd he manage to bring one here? Especially in the dead of night?" Damian seemed genuinely baffled with what Jon was telling him, and he had a hard time believing Dick scaled up a forty-foot building with a possibly rabid Koala hanging onto him, then again...

"That's the thing; I have no idea! And then, when he offered it to me and I said no, he just left, and I've never seen the koala anywhere, ever again." Jon said, laughing. Damian furrowed his brows again.

"Man, your brothers sure are weird." Jon let out an exasperated sigh, a soft laugh drawing itself from his throat as Damain's bamboozed expression stayed on his face.

"I need to contact someone." He said, narrowing his eyes. Jon looked up at him again, raising a brow.

"I need to know how I can steal a Koala bear, Jonathan; this is important information." Damian said, his eye narrowing as he scanned the room for his phone, Jon let out a sigh.

"Damian, please no."

[spicy-apple-pie]

The Al Ghuls have a family curse of falling is live with pathetic men.

Commission Info / Kofi

[spider-jaysart]

Very silly something hereee

(Click for better quality)

He ain't surviving lolll

[thief-of-eggs]

“Like father like son” except it’s just Bruce and his children each falling in love with different members of the Super family

[askdamijon]

(@puppiesandnightlock)

Index / Main Blog

[edi-storm]

Damijon in my current spring outfits 🫶

They keep me mentally stable

[domnorian]

Nightwing (Damian Wayne) and Flamebird (Jon Kent), commissioned by @g1rlr0b1n!

Thank you for commissioning me again. 😁

[embracedbythesea]

No hate here, just let me have fun

[lazy-drawn]

“Two parallel lines that are always the same distance apart, run in the same direction, and never intersect, even if extended infinitely.”

[phantom-arsonist-racoon]

DamiJon/ Jon & Damian brainrot

Jon knew he had a type. When he looked up at the drummer of a band he really liked when he was ten, he saw flashes of him in her behavior and personality; when he met the tired fellow high schooler in the library, their barbed replies stinging him gently in all the places he had.

But they weren't him. And Jon...couldn't have him.

"If you're not going to listen I won't tell you about it."

Damian's amused voice cut through his melancholy mind wanderings, and Jon snapped around guiltily.

And oh, he was so lovely.

They were sitting on a building in Metropolis, watching the sun set, and the pinks and oranges shot across the sky reflected on the other man's tan skin. His eyes were slanted affectionately towards his friend, green and sparkling and beautiful.

"Jon?" His head tilted, concerned, and Jon realized he had been staring.

"Sorry," He yelped, turning away.

Damian's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, yanking him back to the building before he could fly. Damn assassin speed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I'm fine," The super assured his companion, reaching to clasp his hand. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Damian's hand tightened on his arm. "What's going on with you? You've been spacey all day!" He paused, looking over in mock suspicion. "You're getting tired of me."

"No," Jon replied adamantly. No matter what, that would never be the case.

"Are you sure? You've been acting weird," He snickered.

Jon panicked. Shit, has he noticed anything? He's going to figure it out, he's going to never want to see me again, what if he doesn't like me anymore?

He's seen you with multiple men, Jon, calm down, His more mature self scolded.

But he felt like he was back to being ten years old, hopelessly infatuated with a sharp, mean, oh-so-lovely assassin child.

"You're floating, Jon." With a sharp yank, the man pulled his friend back to the ground.

(I lost my motivation here but if anyone wants to use this go crazy just credit me pls)

[aphmcu-mha]

Damian: Who else thought that me and Jon were dating?

Damian: Jon put your hand down!

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: It Takes a Fool to Remain Sane

Summary:“Everything is fake. Everything in the world is fake. These people are fake, they’re made of metal. But I like you, and that is not fake.”

Aka i damijon’d the football scene in young royals to make it vaguely fit canon

It was a mistake, being here, Damian thought to himself, watching the socialites chatter, all placing their masks on to secure a business deal, marry their children, climb the social ladder. 

He was on his third glass of champagne, barely feeling a buzz. If he had his way, there'd be a new scandal on the front page of the Gotham Gazette featuring his dumbass at this gala he’d been dragged to.

Damian needed to forget, forget he was here, forget Jon, forget what had happened just hours before. And what better way than to drown it all in stupidly expensive bubbles?

He sipped, watching his father laugh, his own boisterous mask on for the people. Drake, bargaining and writing off people, being the spectacular business person Damian knew he’d never be. He wouldn’t take over Wayne Enterprises, and despite the things drilled into his head that both the Bat and Wayne legacies should be his, he was glad, deep down, that he would never have to be this. 

Still, fake. All of this was just so… fake . What was even real here anymore? Not one of these people were genuine, everyone cold, unfeeling, every word a move on the giant chess board that was Gotham’s rich and famous.

Jon had been real. The thought popped in his head, bringing unwelcome feelings with it, images, memories of things he was currently trying to repress. He picked up another glass and brought it to his lips. This was stronger than the last one had been, and was sure if he kept going down this road there would be no returning.

His league tolerance to this kind of poison hadn’t been properly exercised in awhile. All the better for him, to leave everything in the past.

Damian held the stem of the flute tighter as sounds of memories sharpened, hair being pushed away from his face in a sweet loving gesture, tearful voices that developed into anger, a blur shooting into the sky and leaving him.

”You need to find out where your head's at, Damian, because when it comes to us, I’m only listening to here.” There was a tap over his heart, and he caught the hand, holding it there, a rush of some emotion flooding through him, something so familiar now to the both that they barely made note of it anymore.

He knew where his heart was, what it wanted. But his head was the thing keeping them both afloat. What would happen when the inevitable did happen? When he realized Damian was too broken, too dark, too much of a burden to carry? Not there enough, too many secrets. 

A tiny, logical part of his brain reminded him that he’d stuck around all these years, seen him at his worst, stayed when things had surely crossed the line of just plain platonic.

He held onto that like it was a rope lifting him out of the anxious spiral of a dark hole he’d dug himself into.

This could be managed, this could be forgotten, but closing him off sounded better to his addled mind, locking his heart away could keep it safe. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Grayson piped up, asking the question, ”Are you really? Or are you hiding? Running from your problems?”

 Better to have loved and lost, to have never loved at all.

Before Damian could realize what was going on, he’d reached his limit, Tim catching notice and excusing himself with a laugh and wave from the business elite circle.

”Damian, are you serious?” His older brother hissed, a note of worry evident in his voice. He had stood him up, holding onto his arm to keep him from swaying. ”How much did you drink?” 

Not enough . His brain supplied helpfully, still functioning too well for Damian’s own liking. Unbeknownst to him, he’d said it out loud, just low enough for Tim to hear.

”The hell do you mean, not enough? ” He dragged him to a quieter place, stealth training and well timed smiles from the both of them allowing to escape undetected, Tim grabbing a water glass on the way out. They wound up in a corridor, and Damian dutifully took the water, holding it but not drinking it. 

“Look, Baby Bat, whatever happened today, I need you to get over it because right now I do not want B on my case about this. Stay out of there until you’re somewhat sober.” Tim tapped the glass in his hands a bit. “Drink that, don’t talk to anyone.”

Damian nodded, and the emotions he’d been running to bury surfaced. God, this was pathetic. It must’ve shown, because the concern grew from his voice to his features.

“We’re going to talk about it later.” He ruffled his hair and swept out of the hallway, leaving Damian to go stumbling into the gardens. He sat on an old white bench, uncomfortable and made of marble. 

The dim lights seemed so bright, the way the moon shined off the dew on the flowers and grass nearly blinding. 

It seemed wrong that something so beautiful should have him there, but for the life of him couldn’t consider why. 

The music from the party inside leaked out and he turned, folding his arms on the back of the bench and setting his chin on top to watch through the windows.

There was shrubbery in the way, but the windows were so large that although the bushes hid him from the inside, it didn’t hide the inside from him. The people laughed and talked and danced, trading off from one partner to another, each showing carefully chosen cards.

He spotted his family, each surrounded by people who wanted to pick his brain, make a deal, marry into the Waynes, offer some corrupt thing or the other.

Bracelets, watches, necklaces, earrings. Chains. It was as if they were nothing but robots, tied to this hard metal mask they put on for show, controlled by their families, who they worked for, or even just their true selves, some inescapable. 

Even in the night, when they went out, dressed in kevlar and dark colors. It was all fake. Fake and cold and metallic, trapping them with only a few real things.

How clear it seemed now, something that he’d only briefly considered. What was real in his life? What did he know was truly real?

Not what his completely sober, rational brain had to say. What his being, his soul, his heart felt was real.

Damian swiped open his phone, finger tracing the photos of him and Jon he had for his background. He dialed a number, not really thinking, something more of a habit than anything.

“Jon. Jon.” He whispered into the phone, words slurring just a bit to be noticeable by someone with super hearing.

”Dames, wha?” Jon’s groggy voice came through the speakers, sounding a tad bit annoyed, but mostly heavy with sleep.

“Jon, I've figured it out.” Damian was sprawled back on the bench, one hand in the ground picking at blades of grass. He tugged on a lone flower, rolling the stem between his fingers.

”Figured what out? Wait, are you on something right now?” There was a rustling sound, as if he were getting up.

“You see, everything is fake.” he tapped the ceramic animals at the feet of the bench, before repeating, “Everything is fake. Everything in the world is fake. This gala, nothing here is even real. It’s night, but the lights are all on. The outside is so bright. But it’s nighttime. Why’s the outside so bright it's nighttime, Jon?”

”Oh my god, you’re drunk, aren’t you? Did one of the fancy kids drug you or something?”it sounded like air was whooshing through the speaker on Jon’s end.

“Maybe a little. See, all these people are fake. They’re made of metal.” he paused, looking up at the sky, still holding the flower. The silence went on a few more seconds, before he whispered into the night again, a warm breath creating a puff of steam into the cool night air.

“But I like you. And that is not fake.”

He barely had time to react before he was met with the sight of Jon, still in pajamas consisting of sweatpants and a hastily thrown-on shirt, tennis shoes without socks shoved on his feet, untied.

His hair was a mess, but Damian thought he’d never been more beautiful. Jon’s face scrunched up, and he realized his lips were parted and he’d said it out loud.

“You came.” He stated. “You’re beautiful.”

Jon gaped at him for a few seconds longer, before going to pick him up off the bench. “You smell like alcohol. Damian, sit up.”

He pulled him into a sitting position, and Damian leaned forwards. “Are you mad at me?”

Jon only sighed, picking him up and putting him on his back. “Come on, Dames. Let’s get you home.”

The next morning, Damian woke up, light from the curtains stabbing through his eyelids and a foreign presence sitting at the foot of his bed. He squinted, just barely making out the outline of jon, half-asleep in an upright position. There was aspirin and a glass of water on his nightstand, but all he wanted to do was turn over and go back to sleep, ignoring the pounding headache last night had brought him. 

He shifted, but in doing so woke Jon, who called his name in a whisper. Damian groaned, waving a hand at him. Jon got up and closed the curtains, before standing at the side of the bed. 

“Do you remember anything about last night?” His voice was quiet, soft with a note of hopefulness.

A shot of embarrassment flooded Damian as fuzzy memories pieced together in his mind. He’d called his best friend in an inebriated state, said some frankly truthful things, one of which being what was probably a plain confession of his feelings.

“Vaguely.” he murmured, voice raspy with sleep. “I apologize. I remember enough to know I said…things.”

Jon slipped under the covers next to him, chest pressed to his back and chin on his shoulder. “Don’t apologize. We can talk about it later.”

His arms wrapped around Damian's waist, and he whispered, voice muffled by his shoulder. 

“I’d much rather you let me hold you for a bit.”

Things weren’t fine, not by a long shot. There would come long conversations and arguments and compromises, tears and harsh words and yelling. But the storm would clear, sooner or later. The storm would clear and they’d mend it with each other. Their love was very real, tangible in a way. They’d waited for each other for forever, and now, it was within reach.

“I’d like that.” Damian responded, shutting his eyes and leaning back.

Things weren’t fine, but they would be.

[spicy-apple-pie]

Damijon soulmate au where whatever you write on your skin, it shows up on your soulmate’s skin.

Damian keeps his arms covered, mostly to keep people away from asking about his scars. Jon on the other hand likes to wear shirts and shorts. Damian notices that Jon’s doodles and notes shares the ones on his arm. Jon notices him staring.

“I like to leave little notes for my soulmate. A little something to brighten his day.” Damian knows. It’s his little secret that he’ll trace over the writing on his wrist with his finger. Safe under the covers of his bed. “Do you have a soulmate?”

“Enough dawdling, let’s get ready for patrol.”

Jon assumes that Damian’s soulmate is a touchy subject. He struggles to not run up to Damian to show the little cat his soulmate doodled next to his note just a couple weeks later.

Jon is elated when the doodles become more and more frequent. Usually little animals, sometimes abstract swirls. It doesn’t matter. He takes pictures of every one.

As they grow, Jon struggles with his developing crush on Damian, and his soulmate. He’s sure that Damian isn’t his soulmate, since Damian as seen the doodles plenty and why wouldn’t he tell Jon he’s his soulmate.

(Damian doesn’t want to see the disappointment on Jon’s face. The chance that Jon would insist that it was a platonic match and Damian would have to bite his tongue until the grave.)

One day, during a mission, Damian gets hit the chest bad. Jon takes off his shirt to take a good look at the wound and notices the markings. So many emotions fill him, but mainly panic that he might not only lose his best friend, but also his soulmate.

Damian lives, but Jon is upset with him for keeping the fact that they’re soulmates from him. They make up eventually. lol

[spider-jaysart]

(Click for better quality)

Young Justice!Damijon💕

Couldn't wait anymore for these two to meet in Young Justice, so I did it myself! Now there are many more other styles that I want to do them in next, now that I achieved this one hehe

[scarletackrmn]

Supersons Incorrect Quotes

Jon: Violence is not the answer!

Damian, running past him full speed wielding his sword: Its the solution!!!

Jon, barreling after him: NO!!!!!

*based on this amazing piece of meme history*

[southernfreakinggothic]

What’s your favorite Jondami motif in fancontent?

(mine is when the Robin and Superboy capes mix together during intimate moments 🥹)

Ooooh that's a good one!!

I like starry motifs. I always headcanon that when Damian looks into Jon's eyes, he sees the stars even in the day time. Meanwhile, Jon gets reminded of Damian because that's when he does his hero work and when they usually meet up.

Not to mention my favorite JonDami moment happened in front of the stars.

I don't see stars that often in fancontent, but I love it sooo much!

Thanks for the ask ☺️.