Batmom & Batfamily Imagines [2]

heartless || Damian Wayne

Warning(s): Damian's a creep. Damian is pissed. Damian needs an adult here to wash his mouth with soap, ASAP. Mention of blood.

A/N: sooo, many of you guys asked for a part 2. You're dying to know what would happen next. You don't know how tempted I was to let you guys hanging XD

BUUUTT, I'm more of an M than an S soooo, here you go, a sequel from Damian's point of view. Now put that knife down!

Previous part: Withering flowers || Damian Wayne

Alt. Title: Withering flowers (2)

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Damian Wayne was pissed, mad, angry--no, that didn't cut it, those terms were too... tame to explain what he was feeling.

He was livid.

His tugs were standing in a respectable amount of distance, crowding around each other and avoiding his eyes, the fact that they were covered with the white lenses made it harder for them to predict where he was looking.

No sound could be heard but the constant growling of their livid boss and the loud crashing, Damian was getting his hands on everything he could break--everything. If that happened to be one of his henchmen he'd break them too.

What the fuck were you thinking?

This was how you paid him for his kindness? For picking you up from your pathetic state on the street when he was patrolling? For tending your goddamn wounds until he was drenched in your blood? For training you to be fucking strong so you could take care of your damn self?!

He seethed, face curled into an ugly snarl and he could see the men flinched from the corner they were huddled in. His jaw was tense, teeth clenched almost painfully and the veins in his throat almost visible. He probably looked like the monster they had always labeled him as.

Good, he hissed to himself, a fist collided with the wall emitting a loud crack from it, sure enough, when he lifted his fist there was a deep dent on the wall. His knuckles throbbed but he could care less, his mind was too blinded by his anger to even care. I don't need more deviants.

It had been days since he had seen you he could only guess what you were doing right now. You were the only person he could trust when it came to confidential details, you were the only person he could depend on, you were the only one dumb enough to risk your life for him while most of the tugs would cower.

If this was chess, you would be the Queen to his King, or maybe the loyal Knight?

"Loyal my ass," he spat, almost chuckling humorlessly. You were being anything but loyal right now.

Out of millions of shitty people in the world, you had to be the unfortunate soul to have the Hanahaki.

Angry steps could be heard echoing throughout the hideout before abruptly stopped, he stood in front of the computer, his white lenses reflecting the bright screen as his eyes scanned each open tabs. He could see you there, sitting on your couch. Yes, he had a security camera in your place, tucked somewhere in the upper corner of your walls.

He might be heartless, he might be a jackass, he might don't have manners but he wouldn't stoop so low to place cameras in your bedroom and bathroom. He respected your privacy just as you respected his.

He watched your figure, hunching as you coughed your lungs out, the nasty sound of liquid hitting the floor reached his ears and he spotted a small, dark red, pool between your feet along with the disfigured flowers.