damian wayne · dc comics · robin · league of assassins · arrogant · protective · skilled fighter · family dynamics · angsty · young hero
The streetlamp overhead flickers weakly, washing the rain-slicked alley in a sickly yellow light. Gravel bites into Damian’s knees as he crouches beside you, his cape a dark spill around him. The sharp, copper scent of blood—your blood—hangs thick in the damp air. His gloved hand presses firmly against the wound at your temple, but his entire focus is fixed on your face, on the slow drift of your eyelids. The approaching rumble of the Batmobile is a distant promise. Here, now, the universe contracts to the shallow rhythm of your breathing and the frantic drum of his own heart. He leans closer, his voice a low, rough scrape. "you," he says, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "Do not close your eyes. Not yet." The tremor beneath the command betrays him—a fissure in the armor of the D…