DC Imagines

I'm So Sorry [Damian Wayne x Reader]

paring: damian wayne x reader
summary: reader goes on a dangerous mission much to damian's distaste
published of tumblr:  October 10th 2019

"I'm not going to be gone long, Dami, I promise." His forehead comes to rest against yours, his nose brushes the tip of yours.

"I know, Beloved. But any time away from you is long enough." You can almost feel his smile, he's proud of that one.

"That was good." His laugh comes in the form of a huff of breath against your lips.

"Good enough for you to reconsider taking the mission?" Teeth sink into your lip and you force the guilty feeling that bubbles in your stomach to a manageable level, its not fair to flip this on you now.

"I'll be fine, Dames. I've got Dick and Tim right there if anything happens." He trusts them both, with his life but he doesn't seem to trust any but himself to go to the extend he wants to keep you safe.

"But still–"

"And Diana is back up. You wouldn't doubt Diana, would you?"

Maybe you should have doubted Diana, not that it was her fault. Maybe if you had listened. Or hadn't been so hard on yourself to prove your worth. Maybe if you had stayed in bed, curled up with Damian. Maybe if you hadn't taken his hoodie off and put your suit on. Maybe if you hadn't done a lot of things, you wouldn't be here. But you are.

You hear Dick's groan from somewhere behind you, his body tossed carelessly against a wall and undoubtedly shattered something. His usually shining suit dulled with wear and grime, sarcastic smirk long gone.

The back of Tim's cowl is cracked, and he is bent back, keeping his head protected but knowing that his fight is up, even if he does continue.

Your elbow flies back and makes contact with the bridge of a nose as you feel two arms slide under your sprawled out body. Chips of concrete sticking to your suit as you try to prep yourself for another fight.

"Ouch." The soft nature made you relax instantly, your heart swells and tears prick behind your eyes.

"Thank heavens." You whimper as you slump further back into her hold, "Thank you." The strong red fabric under you is comforting and you lay your forehead against Diana's exposed shoulder as you allow the silent streams to trickle from collecting under your mask, down your battered cheeks.

"Damian's going to kill you, love." And suddenly you can't breathe. He's never going to let you go out again, let alone on another mission. Hell, he probably won't even want to see you again. You were supposed to have their backs. If you looked like this,

What happened to Dick and Tim?

-

It was a trap.

Of course, it was a trap.

The sound of empty air rushed past your ear after the lead pipe that narrowly missed your head. You keep you fists held high, back hand rest on the front of your cheek and your main just in front.

Jab.

Hit his nose.

Jab.

Follow-up to the jaw.

Jab.

He caught it.

How did he catch it?

The quiet beeps of the heart monitor slowly coax you to rise from you head. The nightmarish recollection of last night brings the floods of pain back. Was it even last night? You don't remember how long you've been in this bed. Not to complain, but Bruce is a billionaire. One would think with the amount of time he spends down here he'd had better medical beds.

The tall back sitting in the bat computers chair catches your attention and you try to catch their attention. Dry air husks out of your aching throat. Twitching your fingers, you feel each strained muscle overflow with pain until you reach the cool metal at the bed sides. Lifting your finger, you allow your nail to fall on the aluminium, the hollow tap soft but effective. You try again, after four painstaking echoes, Bruce finally looks over.

Fluttering your eyes shut, you brace a small smile, barely managing a drivering wave with your previously used finger. He rushes to push off the chair, taking long strides to kneel at your bedside.

"Y/N?" His tone is gentle, a strong indicator something is very, very wrong. Batman isn't soft. Bruce isn't either.

Your attempt to respond is once again unintelligible as the air feel like sandpaper. Bruce stands up, pressing the call button just above your resting hand, installed to alert Alfred as many family members are left unable to reach a normal wall button or pager.

"She's awake, Alfred. Bring some water."

You struggle but push through, attempting to salivate your mouth and swallow to whisper one word.

"...please." Your eyebrow raises expectedly, and you nearly catch a glimpse of the perfect teeth behind a barely-there smile.

"Please, Alfred." He pauses to listen to the response, but you're too exhausted to pay attention, "Yes, I think she's going to be just fine."

Within a few seconds, Alfred miraculously emerges from the Batcave into the slightly more secluded medical area, a tall glass of water in one hand and a steady plate of stacked homemade cookies on the other. He places the plate first before raising the top half of the bed, so you don't have to exhaust yourself sitting up. The strong ache stretching up your back flairs, but you catch the scent of Alfred cooking and everything becomes a bit more bearable.

"Please drink this, Miss Y/N, then you can consume as many cookies as you wish." You can't fight the grin as you sip down half the water before removing the glassware from your lips.

"Alfred?" The older man takes the glass from your hands, noticing the slight shake.

"Yes, Miss Y/N?"

"How are they?" Alfred smiles, his hand rests to comfort you on your shoulder.

"Master Dick and Master Tim are both fine. I pushed at least a week of rest in hopes they'll take a minimum of two." His lip twitches, "It seems, Miss Y/N, that you took most of the damage, and of recounts of the night so far confirm that. Is there any reason why?"

You reach for a cookie and Alfred hides his pride when you grin into the scent. Nibbling at the perfectly crisp outer layer with melting insides.

"I guess, I just wanted to prove myself?" Your gaze drops to the black sheet and blanket covering your legs and midsection. "It was my first mission that I felt like it was solo, which is dumb because I was with Tim and Dick but, we were like a team you know? Less of a mentor mission, or the little league with Dami and Jon.

"We knew it was a trap as soon as we got there, but we thought we could handle it. I thought I could handle it. And when we couldn't, I panicked. So, I tried to make sure that they didn't get hurt, 'cause the world can survive without me but if we lost Nightwing or Red Robin, we be lost."

"Miss Y/N, if anything were to happen to you, we would be devastated. Master Damian, he, he would not be able to bare it." Your confusion must be obvious as Alfred explains, "You chose the only few minutes in which he has not been down here since Diana brought you back."

"How long have I been out anyway?"

"Six hours, twenty-three minutes, and a few seconds that I have lost count of in the time of seeing your smiling face." He looks like a mess, his hair sticking up at all ends, eyes sleepy and smile dopey and lovesick but also laced with worry. But he makes it work. Of course he makes it work, he's Damian Wayne.

You're at a lost of words as he walks to the edge of the bed, dismissing Alfred in a way you normally would have scolded him for. In the maze of words scrambling through your brain, sifting through your thoughts and every memory of last night, you can only pull three from the mess.

"I'm so sorry."