A/N: So this is the first thing I’ve written in… about a month? So please be gentle! I appreciate your feedback and your patience with me, while I get back in the writing groove. ♥
Word Count: 1,066
Warnings: - none.
Tags: (at the end)
*gif is not mine
“Bucky,” you whispered into the dark, your fingernails gripping at the sheets, getting caught in the fabric. Only the moon peeking through the equally as black curtains shed any light into the room, casting looming shadows on the walls. “I’m scared…”
A/N: This is something that just came into my brain literally today, and I got inspired so I decided to write the first part. Bucky is not in this (yet) so I don’t want to trick anyone, but he will be. You’ll see! Let me know if you like it, and if you want me to continue. I love hearing from you all! ♥
Other Characters: Steve
Word Count: 1,000
Warnings: - language. - mild violence.
Tags: (at the end)
*gif is not mine.
It was so dark. Sounds of falling debris and chaos surrounded you, but you didn’t care. You were too tired to move a muscle, too tired to fight back.
Let it burn. Let it all fucking burn…
“Do you know where you are?” a faint voice yelled from somewhere behind your closed eyelids. Your ears were ringing so loudly, you couldn’t place the exact location.
“Hell…” you whispered to yourself, unsure if the talking person had even heard you.
(idk about lloyd though, but keep in mind, from the quality of this poster it’s probably just a preliminary poster for the toy fair - not the final poster - but most likely, these are pretty close to the designs the minifigures will have in the movie)
also, most news sources place the release date for the trailer sometime next week! also it will be 2 minutes and 23 seconds long!
@hoodminter requested:“Hello, I absolutely love your imagines. Could you do an imagine where you’re Bruce Wayne’s legitimate daughter and when you were younger you would always run up to him and give him a hug when he came back from patrol. as you got older, you grew tired of being his last priority so eventually you start cutting him out of your life and he doesn’t realise until he finds out from one of your brothers that you’re married and have a child”
A giggle left your lips when you were attacked by your child with a hug. “Woah there sweetie, wouldn’t want to hurt yourself now would you?” you teased, picking her up. “Now, how was my princess’s first day of school?”
“Awesome!” she exclaimed happily, waving to one of her newly-made friends along the way, “My teacher is really nice.”
“Really? He seems very nice.” you noted in agreement, “Did you get into trouble?” When your daughter shook her head, you were satisfied. You helped her into the car seat seat then drove off home.
“When is daddy coming home?” [D/N] asked curiously, clearly missing her father. You smiled at her through the rearview mirror.
“He’s coming home tonight honey.” Your smile widened when your daughter’s face lit up.
“Really?!” she gasped, moving excitedly in her seat.
“Really.” you confirmed with a nod, “That means we’ll have a big dinner to welcome him home.”
As soon as you reached your house, you allowed [D/N] to play while you worked on that dinner you told her your family would have. You made sure to make your husband’s favorite, knowing that he would be exhausted. The thought of seeing his face when he walked in the door made you grin to yourself.
The day flew by in a blink of an eye and you hadn’t notice until you heard the door open and close, followed by your daughter’s excited squeal and your husband’s voice which you missed so dearly.
“Mommy! Daddy’s home!” [D/N] shouted which was accompanied by a series of loud steps and you knew that your husband was going to get tackled by a very active child.
“Hey [D/N], I missed you.” [H/N] said, giving your daughter kisses all over her face. “How was my princess’s first day of school?”
“Fun! I made friends.” she informed, “You should’ve been there.”
“I know honey, I know,” he said sadly, “but daddy had to work. I’m sorry, I tried to get home as soon as possible.” You heard your daughter ‘hmph’ but her resolve was never strong when it came to her dad.
“I know I can’t possibly make up for missing your first day, but… guess what I got you from Japan?” your husband asked cheekily.
“What? Daddy, what?!” [D/N] demanded. You finished setting up the dinner table and decided to finally go see your husband. You got there just in time to see him giving [D/N] a Snorlax plushie which made her ecstatic. You leaned against the doorframe and took a moment to take in the sight of your family.
Your small, perfect family.
You caught sight of your husband’s eyes and it was like a switch. Love, specially reserved for you, filled them in a heartbeat. “Excuse me princess,” he told your daughter, “but I think mommy deserves some kisses too.” You laughed as he slipped behind his daughter and quickly ran to you, planting a loving kiss on your lips when he made it.
“I missed you.” you whispered. As a humanitarian, your husband often flew to other countries for work. You knew he loved his work and you loved him for it, but he always rushed home because what he loved more than work was his family, especially his little girl.
“I miss you too love.” he responded, kissing your nose.
“Ewww.” [D/N] complained, making you laugh some more.
“Okay prince charming, dinner’s going to get cold.” you warned, ushering them into the dining room. You had just sat down when the doorbell rang.
“Were we… expecting a guest?” [H/N] inquired with a frown.
“No… we weren’t.” you murmured, getting up to see who it was. You opened the door cautiously and your eyes widened at the sight that greeted you.
“[F/N]… it’s… been a while…” your father, the one and only Bruce Wayne, said with a slight smile.
“It has.” you agreed, but made no attempts to let him in. “It’s late, why are you here?”
Bruce glanced at his feet nervously before answering, “just wanted to see how my daughter was doing.”
“Love, who is it?” [H/N] called, walking into the hallway, but he froze when he saw you with your father. “Oh…” You turned around to glance at [H/N], flashing a gaze that plainly said ‘help me’ and you expected him to help you, but instead, your husband said, “we’re having dinner, why don’t you come in Mr Wayne?”
You sent your husband a look which he returned with that shit-eating smile that made you fall for him.
“Oh… will you be okay with that, [F/N]?” Bruce questioned, knowing fully well of your hostility. You kept staring at your husband, who was pleading for you to let your father in, when you sighed in defeat.
“Yeah,” you muttered reluctantly, “yeah I’m okay with it.”
You stepped aside and allowed your father into your home and your husband, being… your husband, greeted Bruce wholeheartedly.
“It’s an honor to meet you Mr Wayne, I’m [H/N]… [F/N]’s… uh… husband.” [H/N] extended his hand for a handshake which Bruce returned.
“Call me Bruce.” your father stated. [H/N] led Bruce into the dining room and you followed behind while also trying to muster up the courage to sit through a dinner with the father you hadn’t seen face-to-face in five years.
“Daddy, who’s that?” [D/N] asked, staring at Bruce. Your husband ruffled your daughter’s hair affectionately.
“That is your grandpa.” he answered.
“I thought I already had a grandpa.” she said, referring to your husband’s father.
“This is your other grandpa sweetie.” you said quietly. “Dad… this is [D/N], my daughter.”
And after you took a seat, the dinner began.
Your husband’s voice was faint from your position on the couch downstairs. As he was reading bedtime stories to your daughter, you sat in front of your father.
Bruce Wayne had changed over the years. You had always seen him in the media, in magazines and newspapers, but seeing him in person made you realize how much he had aged. He wasn’t young anymore yet he still had a certain strength to him.
“Your daughter looks just like you when you were her age.” he started, his eyes conveying his sadness and regret.
“I didn’t think you’d remember what I looked like.” you responded coldly. “You were always too busy.”
“I know,” Bruce admitted, “and I’m sorry.”
“You’re half a decade too late dad.” you said harshly. “When did you notice that I never visited, that I never called or even tried to communicate with you? When did you notice that I wasn’t there anymore? And when did you realize I had my own family?”
Bruce hesitated to answer which was already enough information for you. “I… Dick told me a month ago…”
You shook your head in disappointment. “And you didn’t even notice before that…”
“I’m sorry [F/N],” Bruce apologized, “I know I disappointed you.”
“Yeah, you did.” you agreed, but when you saw how genuinely miserable your father looked, you calmed down, but that didn’t mean you were through. You were far from through. “You know, I loved you, dad. I loved you so much. I used to… wait for you to come home every night and hug you and I refused to sleep until I get to do so.” A smile ghosted your father’s face as he recalled the memories. “I loved you with all my heart, but you never loved me with all of yours.”
Bruce nodded, accepting your statements as they were true. He didn’t love you enough and he regretted that. All he wished was to be able to turn back time so you were given the love that you deserved.
“I know that I missed your life.” he whispered, “your first concert, your high school graduation, your college graduation and… even your wedding and your child, which I didn’t even know about… I missed so much.” He reached out to hold your hands. “And I know that I can’t do anything to change that. It may seem like a lie coming from me, but I do want to be part of your life, and I understand if it’s a little late but I’d rather start late than not start at all.”
You stayed silent through his entire speech. “What I’m asking you, really, is… give your old man another chance [F/N].” Bruce continued, “I may be the world’s worst father but I still want to be a father.”
You let out a small laugh but the tears in your eyes betrayed the expression you were trying to give off. “You know… you had your entire life to prove yourself and you didn’t. I forgave you time and time and time again and for what?” A few tears fell. “Empty seats at every important moment in my life. Being brushed off when I greet you every time you come back. Being cast aside for my other more talented siblings. I hated that feeling, that feeling of being completely nothing to my own dad. I hated it! So no, I don’t want to give you another chance!”
Bruce nodded sadly. “I understand–”
“But no matter how much I don’t want to give you that chance…” you continued, “a bigger part of me still wants you in my life…” you wiped your eyes as tears began to cascade down your cheeks, “because in the end, I’m still a girl who loves her dad with all her heart, and I can’t bear to lose my dad.”
Your father brought you into his arms and allowed you to cry on his shoulder but the very action only caused you to cry harder because you couldn’t recall a time where he embraced you like this. You felt him kiss your head and stroke your hair like he should’ve done years ago.
And you never wanted to ever let go. You loved that feeling, for it was a feeling that for the first time, your father loved you with all his heart and he wasn’t letting go.
A/N: I started this series with every intention of posting once a week. But, OF COURSE work always fucks my life up. So here is part two. Please know I have every intention of trying to keep this updated regularly, but please don’t hate me if I don’t. Let me know what you think and if you want me to continue. ♥♥♥
Other Characters: Steve
Word Count: 1,269
Warnings: - language, maybe?
Tags: (at the end)
*gif is not mine.
Your unconsciousness subsided at some point, although you couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment; the loud whirring of a helicopter’s blades invaded your ears, filling your brain with a buzzing sound. It was muted, your brain still fuzzy from the action that went down however long ago. Your eyes fluttered open long enough to see a blurry figure hovering above you, your head on his lap. His fingers were stroking your hair, and you locked eyes with him for a brief moment, before you lazily closed them again. You were so weak, and it took so much effort just to keep them open.
A/N: Sorry, more angst! I promise something fluffy will be next! (I might break this promise if I finish Joyride part 5 fast enough, actually lolololol) Damian is 16, so is the reader!I really like writing angst whoops. Also I’m really mean to Damian
Request: “Damian sister angst? Where she’s also a hero please!!”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This mission was supposed to have been easy. Simple recon. That was supposed to be it, but of course, in true Gotham style, things got complicated.
It was you, Damian, and Bruce on patrol that night. Snow coated the streets, falling from the inky-black sky in white flecks and whirling in the wind. And Damian Wayne was about to lose his mind.
“Everything will be okay,” you repeated in an attempt to assure your brother, although you knew it wasn’t true. You were trapped inside, completely surrounded by solid concrete, and as it stood, you were due to be blown to bits in mere minutes.
“We will get you out!” he insisted over the comms, trying to think of something, anything that could save you. He felt like a complete imbecile. How had he not seen such a simple trap coming? For god’s sake, a false panel in the floor should have been obvious to him. But he’d been careless. Inobservant. And this was the cost. You were the cost. He was searching desperately for some way to get the floor to open up again so he could pull you out, but he found nothing.
“Father!” he called out to Bruce, tears welling up in his eyes despite his attempts to stay calm. The clock was running down. One minute.
“Robin, we have to get out of here now,” Bruce insisted, though he was still working at a way to deactivate the lock on the floor panel.
“No!” he protested loudly, tears beginning to fall. “We can still save her!”
“Robin…” Bruce warned hesitantly, not allowing the panic to set in. God, he wanted to save you, but he’d be damned before he let both of his children die.
“Father, please,” Damian begged, his voice breaking as he looked to his father for help. His heart was beating faster than he knew was possible.
Bruce looked down for a short moment before looking back up at Damian, sorrowful resolve evident, even behind the cowl. He’d regret this for the rest of his life, but he’d chosen this life. He’d chosen every hard decision he’d ever had to make. “We have to go.”
“No!” Damian screamed, his voice breaking into a higher pitch once again.
“Damian, please,” Bruce begged, their roles suddenly reversed.
There wasn’t time for begging anymore, and Bruce had made his choice. He grabbed Damian, rushing forward and out of the building and out into the snow.
“No!” Damian screamed yet again, struggling in Bruce’s arms as he fought to get away.
Bruce dropped Damian in the snow, and the boy could only watch in horror as he saw something move from inside the building.
The floor panel had opened.
“(Y/N)!” Damian cried as he saw you grapple out of the small chamber and turn to face him.
He scrambled up as you reached your hand out, stumbling forward towards the wide doorway. Towards your brother.
He ran as fast as his shaking legs could carry him, ignoring Bruce, who was yelling for him to stop. He was so close. He just needed a few more seconds to reach you. He could hear you speaking, he was so close.
There was a deafening roar as Damian was thrown violently back, his surroundings suddenly transforming into a series of rapidly shifting blurs. He was winded as he hit the ground and rolled through the snow, the sky and the ground cycling across his vision as he tumbled.
The moment he came to a stop he was back on his feet and staggering towards the fiery remains of the building, his vision spinning in a tangled mess of black and white and fiery orange.
Ash rained down, mixing with the snow and staining it a dingy grey.
His vision cleared, though it was still tunneling, as he ran into the remnants of the blast, not caring about the leftover tongues of flame that licked at his skin, or the boiling heat that seemed to burn every inch of his skin.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he threw pieces of debris aside to try to find her. She had to be alive. She had to be. His ears were ringing as he tossed a charred beam to the side, freezing at the sight of what was under it.
His sister. His twin. Bloodied and barely recognizable.
Damian dropped to his knees with a strangled cry of disbelief, sending a cloud of ash into the air around him. “(Y/N)…” he whispered, barely able to hear himself over the crackling flames and the howling wind and the ringing in his ears.
“(Y/N)!” he repeated, yelling this time, tears obscuring his vision. He pulled her body into his arms, staring down at her burnt and disfigured face. “(Y/N), please.”
He felt a presence behind him, but didn’t bother to look and see who it was. He knew it was Bruce.
His father slowly knelt beside him, and for a moment Damian thought that he was calm. Then he saw the way that his jaw was shaking, and the way his trembling hands betrayed the grief he truly felt.
“No,” Bruce murmured, reaching a shaking hand to touch the side of her face. “No.”
“Father,” Damian choked out, looking to Bruce as the tears began to fall from behind the mask. “If we had stayed…” She might still be alive right now.
Bruce didn’t respond as he stared down at his daughter’s body, the sight burning into his mind. He knew that from now on this would be what he saw behind his eyelids. This would be what plagued him when he closed his eyes to sleep. “We should get back,” he whispered, barely able to keep his voice even. “Dick will be waiting for us.”
Damian swallowed hard, giving a small nod and standing, her body still in his arms.
They set off for the manor, travelling back in heavy silence, Damian letting out stifled sobs every few minutes as they moved through the snow.
From that moment on, everything felt like a blurred fever dream to Damian. The shock and sorrow on Dick’s face as they entered the cave barely registered to him. He couldn’t seem to look away from her body as Dick rushed over, saying something he couldn’t bother to listen to. It was so strangely hazy, and the outside world seemed to play in front of him like a silent film as his thoughts consumed him. He could have saved her. If he’d just stayed for five more seconds, then everything could have been okay. She’d be standing with him and everything would be okay. And he’d pull her into a hug and he’d tell her he was sorry. He’d tell her to be more careful. He’d tell her that next time he’d be more cautious.
Damian snapped back to reality as he realized she was being taken from him. Dick was trying to pull her body away from him. “No!” he cried out, recoiling, holding her closer to him and standing defensively, tears still streaking down his face.
“Damian, please,” Dick pleaded gently, reaching his hand out towards his younger brother.
“You can’t take her!” Damian yelled at him, misdirected rage mixing in with the flurry of emotions that coursed through him.
“She’s gone, Dami,” Dick chided, fighting back his own emotions in order to stay calm in front of Damian. “Please set her down so we can at least clean-” he had to stop to draw in a deep breath, on the verge of tears. “So we can clean her up for a funeral.”
Damian shook his head, eyes wide as he backed away from Dick. “No… She’s not! We can save her! I can take her to the Lazarus Pit! I can-”
“Damian,” Bruce cut him off sternly. “Do you really want that? Do you really want to bring her back just for her to suffer?”
“I- No, but-”
“It’s not an option,” Bruce asserted, though suddenly he sounded more weary, more broken than angry or stern.
Damian’s shoulders slumped as he looked down at her in bitter defeat. He allowed Dick to approach him and take her body from his arms. Once she’d been lifted, he stumbled backwards, collapsing down onto the floor.
This marked the beginning of a season of sorrow.
The following days passed in a blurred haze, and Damian wasn’t sure he’d really processed what had happened. He still felt like he’d turn to see her at his side at any given moment. But deep down he knew. The house felt empty to him, and he’d pass by her room, hoping to hear her playing her music from the other side of the door.
It was the morning of the funeral, and Damian was wearing a black suit and a blank expression. He stood in her room for the first time since before she had been ripped away from him. Since before she had died.
It looked exactly as she had left it. There were books on her nightstand that were opened to the pages she’d left them on, just waiting to be finished.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at the posters on her walls and the objects on her furniture, all of which reminded him of his precious sister. For a moment it felt like she was still there. Like nothing had changed. Standing there, in her untouched room, felt like living in a snapshot of her life where things were still okay.
“Damian,” he heard Dick call him softly from the doorway.
He wiped at his eyes, brushing away the tears and turning to face Dick, his expression once again becoming dull and lifeless.
“It’s time to go,” his brother told him, gesturing for him to come. His face was seemingly blank, though his eyes shone with despair.
Damian nodded, walking towards Dick, eyes glued to the floor as he followed his brother out to the car.
The funeral was held in a church, and Damian was supposed to be giving her eulogy. He was supposed to have something prepared, though he had found he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Writing her eulogy would be admitting that she was truly gone. And he refused to do it.
So there he stood by her casket, facing rows of people he didn’t know who were waiting for a speech he hadn’t written.
He felt anger rise to his chest as he took in their pitying looks. How long had he even been standing there? His eyes were wide and he felt like a deer in the headlights. He looked over to Dick, who was giving him a concerned stare. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to say to these people? That he’d just lost the only person who’d been with him his whole life? That there was a chunk that had been ripped out of his soul? That every second he felt like he was bleeding? He knew he had to say something.
Nothing. There were no words. There was nothing he could say. He looked over to Dick again, who nodded encouragingly. He looked back out into the pews, where he only found more pity.
“She was my sister. And she was the most amazing person I knew.” He looked down at the stone floor, unable to muster up the energy to say anything more. He stepped down from the podium, tears welling up in his eyes and beginning to fall freely as he returned to his seat.
He didn’t pay attention to the rest of the funeral. Soon the memorial service was over and guests were free to mull around and spread their synthetic compassion.
He ignored them all. He ignored every person who approached him offering condolences that he knew were insincere. None of it mattered anymore now that she was gone. Nothing mattered.
He sat before her gravestone which was by Bruce’s parents’, staring blankly at her name, which was engraved into the stone along with her epitaph. Rest peacefully, dear sister.
A/N: Here is part 3 everyone! This took a while for me to get right, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Sorry it’s being posted so late too. Work sucks! Let me know what you think! ♥
Other Characters: Steve, Tony
Word Count: 1,321
Warnings: - language, maybe?
Tags: (at the end)
*gif is not mine.
The thin, delicate pane of glass was the only thing separating you from what you thought you knew and what was sitting right in front of you. It seemed like a dream, as his sapphire eyes chilled you to the bone, piercing your very soul. Your knees felt weak and Steve could read your body language, walking over and hooking his hand right into the crook of your elbow, squeezing lightly.
Following the demon with the red helmet, your eyes scanned over every piece of artwork that adorned the walls. It seemed that your brother fancied collecting pieces from famous artists, and you could clearly tell that he had commissioned every single one from the source. The demon leading you didn’t seem to enjoy the art like you were, but he had probably seen them many times. If he was your brother’s second in command, then he must have served him for a long time. Now that you think about it, the stench of Hellfire no longer smelt like it did on your way here. The horrendous smell was replaced by a sweet scent, something similar to the smell you experience when roasting a marshmallow.
Immediately stopping when you saw the demon halt his steps, you watched as he placed his hand on a door, the same Hellfire spreading all over the door. He stepped away as soon as the door opened, allowing you to cautiously enter the room. Your eyes widened as soon as you saw the Heaven of an elderly woman you had visited many times. The sunset behind the weeping willow was spot on, casting a beautiful orange light on the hills. The woman and her husband were not there, laying on a blanket and watching the sunset, but you knew that they were still in Heaven. Stepping further into the room, you knelt down and felt the grass. The small, green blades of glass felt smooth against your skin, the dew dampening your hand. You could even smell the field of flowers on the other side of the hill.
“What kind of room is this?” you asked, turning to face the demon.
He looked around, “It is… enchanted, if you prefer the term. It provides you with the environment that will provide you with whatever you need.”
“Thank you,” you said, looking around. “I didn’t think I would ever see this again.”
His head tilted slightly to the side, silently asking you to explain.
“This is a Heaven I frequently visited,” you explained, a small smile crawling onto your face. “Sometimes it was the only thing that provided me a safe haven from my father and siblings, especially when they were overwhelming.”
“You are the complete opposite of every Angel that I have ever met,” he stated, walking further into the room.
“What do you mean by that?” you asked, following him.
“Angels, well, normal Angels are emotionless warriors and guardians who had protected Earth, smiting any demon in sight. Only one Angel has been in a room like this, and the battlefield was the environment he needed,” he answered, dragging his hands on the trees as he passed them. “You, on the other hand have this setting, which is odd, especially with this serene scenery.”
“I can see why you find it odd,” you said, the orange glow slowly fading from view. “I am a Fallen now, banished from Heaven, and yet I do not search for any revenge or have any anger. All I have is pain and betrayal.”
“The pain will fade,” he stated, “but it will take time.”
“I wonder how long that will last,” you said, looking down at your bare feet. “I do not know if I will be hunted and smited with the wrath of Heaven. Fallen are not meant to survive, suffering is the only thing that is left for them.”
“And yet you can still find peace,” he said, picking up a rolled piece of dark grey clothing from the ground. “This is yours, I’m guessing that you do not want to walk around in those torn clothes.”
“Thank you,” you thanked him, taking the clothing from his armored hands. “If I may ask, what shall I call you? I think it would be rude of me not to ask.”
“I go by many names, but you can call me by my first that was given to me,” he answered. “Jason.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Jason,” you smiled, holding out your hand. “My name is (Y/N).”
Jason gently took your hand in his, shaking it, “Even your name does not match the names of the other Angels.”
“I have never heard of a demon with a name like Jason,” you said, tilting your head to the side. “I guess this is a first for the both of us.”
He released your hand and rested his near his side, “Touché.”
“I am curious, do you always wear your armor?” you asked, scanning over his helmet.
“I do not, but I prefer to wear it when I am on duty,” Jason responded. “Do you wish for me to remove it?”
“Only the helmet,” you replied, “but if you are not willing to, I understand.”
He paused for a moment, debating whether or not to remove his helmet. Nodding, he swiped his hand in front of his face, making his helmet fade away, the ash blowing away. His eyes were the first things you saw, completely enamored by the beautiful combination of red, yellow, orange and even a bit of purple hues.
“Your eyes look like the very sunset that is here,” you smiled, tilting your head. “I never expected eyes to be so beautiful.”
“You’re very honest, aren’t you?” he asked, looking in the direction of the sunset. “Do my eyes really look like that?”
“They do,” you nodded, scanning the rest of his features.
While he was observing the sunset, you had a chance to soak in every detail of him. His skin was not like your brother’s. It was more tan than Lucifer’s light pigmentation, and it was perfect in your eyes. His ears were similar to yours, but they were more extended and angular than your own. When he turned back to face you, you did not cease your actions.
“You are fascinating,” you stated truthfully. “Do you consider yourself an average demon?”
“I am far from average, (Y/N).”
If your tag is crossed out, it means Tumblr won’t let me tag you.
A/N: Here is Part 4. Sorry it’s taken me so long. Had to step away from the writing game, due to work and such. I hope you guys enjoy the direction this series is taking. Please let me know what you think! ♥
Other Characters: Steve, Tony
Word Count: 1,302
Warnings: - talk of violence, torture.
Tags: (at the end)
*gifs are not mine.
“Do you trust him?” you whispered to Bucky as you walked down the hall, his metal hand gripped protectively around your own. Since you first spoke to one another, he’d never stopped touching you in any way he could; whether his hand grazed the small of your back to lead you down the never ending hallways, or his fingers were brushing hair from the back of your neck. Each time he touched you, you felt electric bursts flutter across your skin, restarting your heart.
The city of Gotham had known numerous vigilantes terrorizing the city. Criminals were so common in the city it was a wonder how it was still left standing. Perhaps it was because of the brave heroes of the night that protect the city. They clashed so often that both parties were quite familiar with each other.
However, those heroes were now faced with an unfamiliar threat. This was concerning because with new threats come more casualties and more puzzles to solve. With old criminals patterns can be seen but this new menace was erratic, unpredictable and ruthless. One thing was for sure though; whoever this person was, they were not above killing. This made them all the more dangerous.
This was the reason why Damian was currently searching for this new criminal. He thought it would be easy–after all, he had been trained by the League of Assassins and Batman himself. But the criminal, whoever they were, they were on the same level as him. Their moves were as fluid as water and they moved as if they were riding the wind. Damian didn’t doubt that their fighting skills would be impressive as well.
“Stop!” Damian exclaimed, jumping from roof to roof, relentlessly chasing this person. In the corner of his eyes he could see his brother Dick and his father quietly chasing the criminal in the shadows. Soon, the criminal would have no way out. Surely they couldn’t take on three trained fighters?
As he got closer, his eyes widened slightly at the unmistakable uniform of the League of Assassins. Who was this person, and what were they doing in Gotham? Were they sent by his mother?
All three shared a nod and as soon as he saw the opportunity, Damian increased his speed and struck. He thought it was a good, surprising attack but apparently it wasn’t. Whoever this person was, they knew right away and dodged it was ease before returning the attack.
Damian recoiled back just in time to narrowly dodge the attack. He glared at the attacker–judging by the figure, it was a female–and slightly smirked when she was attacked by the one and only Nightwing. As Damian watched them fight, something made him freeze.
Why did she seem so familiar?
The assassin put up a good fight but once Batman also joined, she was outmatched. Like a trained assassin though, she knew her position and quickly disappeared into the night. Dick was about to pursue but Bruce stopped him.
“Don’t bother,” he instructed, “we need to talk.”
“We need a plan of action,” Bruce stated as soon as they arrived back at the cave, “She’s more dangerous than we thought.”
“Yeah…” Damian murmured, looking down. His mind was still clouded as he tried to figure out what was bothering him.
“Why do you think she’s here?” Dick questioned curiously, “What could she want?” Damian spaced out of the conversation and thought back to the fight.
Her movements were eerily familiar to him, as if he had seen it a thousand times before. He almost knew what move she was going to do next. And the way she moved, her fighting style and her flawless movements…
“Huh?” Damian snapped out of his trance and looked up to see both Bruce and Dick staring at him questioningly.
“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked with a frown.
Damian shrugged and hesitantly answered the question, “I’m uncertain father… but the assassin seemed… familiar to me.”
“Familiar?” Bruce repeated, “could it be you know this person before?”
“Perhaps,” Damian agreed. He had numerous female sparring partners in his days of the League but he didn’t think there was anyone he knew enough to familiarize himself with. All except…
His eyes widened. It couldn’t be you, could it?
“Father,” he spoke up, “may I meet this assassin alone tomorrow?”
“What?” Dick exclaimed, “Damian, it could be dangerous–”
“No, if it’s who I think it is… she wouldn’t hurt me,” he responded confidently.
“No, Dick,” Bruce said firmly, “let him.” He nodded at Damian, a sign that he was placing his trust on his son.
And Damian planned on not breaking that trust.
As expected, the assassin appeared the next night as well, and he was ready. She seemed to have already known he was waiting though and swiftly landed on the rooftop in front of him. He was sure there was a smile under that mask of hers.
“Only you today?” she inquired, “pity.” Damian forced himself not to flinch–that voice. There was no mistaking it, it was you. It had to be.
“I know who you are,” Damian blurted out, getting straight to the point, “I know you’re angry.”
“Angry?” you laughed, shaking your head and not at all fazed by the fact that he had figured it out, “I’m not angry beloved,” he winced at that word, “no. Why would I? After you promised to be with me, only to leave in the end…”
“I never meant to–”
“You did, Damian,” you said with a sigh, “you did mean it. If you didn’t we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
“I did not belong in the League,” Damian reasoned, taking a step closer to you, “I’ve found… a place here in Gotham. It’s where I belong.”
“And being by my side is not where you belong?” you asked coldly, your demeanor switching to an even more hostile one. Damian knew he just said something wrong.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he insisted, “this was unexpected. I knew how loyal you were, I thought… I thought you could never be happy here. I thought it would be better–”
“I was only loyal because of you!” you yelled, pulling out your sword and pointing it directly at him, “I stayed because of you, because I was willing to sacrifice everything for us. But then you left me and I was stuck… being a puppet.”
“[F/N],” Damian said slowly, keeping an eye on the sword, “I’m sorry… I never knew… I thought… I thought you were happier being with them than with me.”
“All these years… all these years of knowing me and you couldn’t tell that I was happiest with you?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.
“You know, at first I was angry,” you continued, wiping a tear away, “I was furious at you for leaving me… but then I realized that you chose them over me, the person who had always been there for you. So now I’m not angry, I’m heartbroken.”
You moved the sword closer to him, the edge pressing against his neck until it pierced his skin. As droplets of blood ran down his neck, your hostility withdrew and a sadness washed over you. You slowly removed the sword from his neck.
“I came here to see you, to restore my heart…” you admitted, “but seeing you, so happy without me, it only broke even more. I thought I loathed you, the person who broke my heart… but in the end I can’t even kill you.” You laughed bitterly. “Why? Why must I still love you? After everything you’ve done to me?” Your laughter turned into sobs, sobs you tried to mask.
Damian felt his heart break when he saw you cry. He never wanted to hurt you, back then he thought you would never give up everything you had for him. So he ran, not knowing your feelings.
Acting solely on impulse, he reached out to embrace you. It was a stupid move considering you had a vendetta against him, but surprisingly you accepted his hug. It seemed you missed him more than you hated him.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said into your ear, “I shouldn’t have left.”
“Don’t leave me,” you whispered, “don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t. You have my word, I will never leave you again.”