|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

Trust Me | Damian Wayne x Reader | 1k Special

Description: 1k followers Damian Wayne imagine, with the prompt TRUST.

Words: 7228

Notes: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER YOU GUYYYSSSS UGH. I got MAJOR writers block half-way through, and when I get it, it never seems to go away. I tried to make it long, but the ending kind of sucks in my opinion. Thank you all so much for following me, and I promise we'll get things in motion again soon =D

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"[You could be executed for this.]" Damian hisses in his mother tongue.

The smell of wet earth and greenery seeps into Damian's youthful skin, leaving it moist with the jungle's damp, fruity air. It wasn't often that he left Nanda Parbat, but Talia had grown annoyed with his restless behavior and decided to drag him along on one of her trades with the weapon-dealers in the nearby islands. The nearby, exotic island populated with tropical animals and co-existing tribes of fisherman on the island's East-side. They were a religious bunch that believed the area's rain-forest held deep secrets they were too afraid to unearth. Y/N L/N—the insufferable girl that Ra's had hired to train their new members—was not nearly as afraid.

Why his grandfather would entrust a pre-teenager with the strength of the League's men, Damian had little clue, which was almost as frustrating as you were. Within the weeks had been in your presence, you had managed to accomplish few things of interest. Well, if you could call defeating Damian in combat, protecting Talia during a battle when she had not been paying attention, and impressing Ra's with your psionic energy manipulation abilities, "things of interest". (Which they most definitely were). They were just things that Damian was going to ignore in favor of himself.

He still refuses to believe that you ever bested him—both during training and outside it, when you'd smile at him and his cheeks would flare, or you would humbly inform him that he was still an excellent fighter (even if you had won that match. And the one after that). With every compliment and smile you sent his way Damian found his blood absolutely boiling, in both anger and a blush. He hated you. He hated what you did to him.

You didn't belong there, among people like Ra's and Nyssa, you were too... generous. Too gentle, even if Damian had just hours ago witnessed you stab your sword into a training dummy, tearing it so harshly it's stuffing came out in cloudy chunks. But this gentleness could simply be a front—you were very dangerous, and Damian wasn't about to let you send the League up in flames. You couldn't be trusted. Regardless of what his heart told him, or whoever vouched on your behalf. So when you begin to drag him into the forest in search of an adventure he doesn't resist. To make sure you're not up to something. Definitely not so he could spend more time with you.

"[For what? Showing you how to have fun?]" You said innocently. Damian watched as you lifted the skirt of your dress, pulling a knife from its sheath around your thigh, then proceeding to cut the fabric around your knees for better mobility. The thin decorated fabric fell loosely at your feet, like watching a feather fall from a great height. The fabrics' sway as it descends is almost surreal.

"[No, you idiot. For capturing me and sneaking off into the woods without permission.]" Damian said. He had not uncrossed his arms since you had entered the mouth of the jungle.

"[I didn't capture you,]" You laughed, then cast him a smart glance over your shoulder,"[And who said I didn't get permission?]"

Damian didn't know how to respond. The few girls that he communicated with were his mother and then the maids, and they weren't as confusing nor as agitating as you. It was always and only you who managed to spike his nerves or make him anxious, make his blood simmer and his stomach buzz like a hive. At this moment his skin was on fire, but that could easily be excused for the climate. Talia and Ra's had trained Damian for everything... except for you.