#comeback

pairing: damian wayne (aged up) x reader

synopsis: damian wayne is forced to attend a party and makes it your problem until you snap and he accidentally kisses you

a/n: look who it is after literal months.. back with a signature enemies fic.. i have a trillion apologies but they’d still not be enough so kindly forgive me and enjoy! (u guys are so sweet for somehow not forgetting me) (i luv characterising damian so much)

parties were never damian wayne’s thing.

so it’s a surprise, not only to all the other high schoolers, but damian himself, that he actually attends this random one— the last batch one of the year.

the truth is— he’d have never in his right mind ever have attended if his father, bruce wayne, hadn’t forced him to, putting the idea of socialising way too high up the pedestal of damian’s priorities. not only was it ‘good for networking’, as bruce said, it was also probably the only way he could think of to tame damian’s persistent behavioural issues that refused to diminish as he grew up.

still, the idea of fraternising was so lame to damian— sure, it was something important for billionaire, philanthropist, icon, bruce wayne, but it shouldn’t be important for him. especially not in the form of a stupid, lowly, plebeian, insignificant, waste-of-time high school party with people of a collective IQ of 1.

of course damian’s only role here was to mark attendance, with his signature scowl glued to his sharp face: top lip curled upwards just enough to convey his disdain, thick eyebrows furrowed just enough to emphasise his dismay, and emerald green eyes narrowed enough to cut through any pathetic attempt at conversation from anyone. he’d have ditched ages ago if bruce had not told alfred to pick and drop him, ensuring he didn’t loiter elsewhere.

as damian’s eyes analyse his surroundings, there are faces he recognises; yet, he finds no one he could ever want to approach to converse, and he is fine with that, because he’s sure none of them want to approach him either. he’s made it very clear time and time again what he does to people who try to infiltrate his space.

he thinks this will probably be the most useless waste of two precious hours of his life. he’d rather be anywhere else, even stuck listening to any of alfred’s lectures. he tries to convince himself it’s just annoyance, but there’s a certain anxiety that lurks beneath his skin, a certain discomfort that crawls up his arms when he impatiently taps his fingers against it. he’d never admit it, but such surroundings are foreign to him, and ultimately, since he’s still just a teen, being whispered about constantly does eventually get to a person. even an assassin.

but then his eyes meet with his least favourite person of all time.

you.

standing tall beside friends of yours he recognises from school, your smile wide and playful, chatting away with your circle with an ease that damian, in this specific moment, almost envies.

yet somehow, it feels oddly comforting knowing you are also here. you have always been more popular, more social, more open than damian, traits he has despised since he came to this school, but he had never had the opportunity to see those attributes in action since he never attended any of these useless gatherings.

now, seeing you here, creates a strange feeling in damian’s chest. it’s weirdly consoling. it irritatingly makes him feel less alone, to have a constant in this new world of variables he has been forced to discover.

he stares at you for a long moment as you laugh with a friend, until your eyes flicker to his. it seems you don’t recognise him at first as your eyes move away, until you seem to have a sudden realisation, eyes widening and darting back to his. he attempts to maintain the same narrowed, unbothered, irritated look, and it mostly works, because he watches, in real time, your eyes go from surprise to squinted opposition.

he thinks a million questions must be going through your brain at his presence, and he feels oddly proud of seemingly ruining your night. if you let him.

and it’s true— a thousand questions do flood your mind, one that probably others are also wondering.

why in gods name is damian wayne here?

at a filthy, sleazy, unsophisticated party at the house of classmates he finds beneath him in intellect and manners? the guy who always acts like he’s above it?

on top of that, you don’t think you’ve ever seen damian attempt casual wear before, and this might be the first time he’s failed at anything, because his dark green turtleneck and black pants don’t help make him look approachable at all.

when damian has the audacity to end the staring competition by rolling his eyes, you hold back from crushing the cup in your hand.

damian wayne has always been impossible.

not in the petty, childish way in which you two trade barbs and move on. no, that would be too easy. instead, every interaction with him feels like stepping into a fight you didn’t agree to, a battle where he’s always armed and you’re always a step behind.

you never did anything to piss him off. he just chose one day that your intellect, your calibre, your giddiness, your sense of humour, your taste, your hospitality, your freedom, was something to despise.

and he has, for some reason, made it his duty to let it be known to you that he despises it.

you have thus concluded that he is needlessly cruel, cold in a way that makes most people give him a wide berth. he has always thought that you are too accepting, too naive, too willing to believe in things that don’t deserve your faith. he has no business to dislike you, but in his entitlement, he makes it very known.

so naturally, after being aware of each others existence at this party, you do your best to stay very far away from damian. you are not letting him ruin your night like he ruins your school days with endless commentary on aspects of your life you never asked his opinion on, especially since he has never respected your constant rejection of his attitude.

but damian? damian makes sure to approach you. with full intention. you see him do it. with people you know around, you try not to run, so you back up a little with every step he takes forward, smiling awkwardly to friends as you back up into the drinks table.

it’s not enough, because his bored eyes find themselves in front of you, standing close enough for it to feel like an interruption, his eyebrow raised.

“of course you are here.”

your eye twitches. you grip your cup tighter before tossing it away, taking in a deep breath. you fight back the urge to ask what that means since he’s also here, pulling up a faux smile.

“and why are you here?” you try a sweet voice, and it seems to bother him just enough, a grimace finding his face.

“am i not allowed to be?” his voice is almost accusatory, low and smooth.

“you’ve never come before,” you shrug, chin tilting down, eyes boring into his. he matches your gaze.

he tilts his head as if he’s pondering if your comment deserves a response. then his eyes trail down your outfit. “even uniform suits you better.”

your teeth grit. “i wish i asked.” your hands slide down your sides, itching to slap him.

that elicits a small smirk from him. “you are always welcome for the feedback.”

you scoff. you refuse to let him ruin your night more, using your hand to push past his shoulder, walking to the literal opposite corner of the room.

damian scoffs humourlessly, turning to watch you leave. he taps his arm, refusing to acknowledge what that sinking in his gut is.

a while passes, people begin to gather in the middle to play games, and damian finds himself gravitating back to your space. why? he has no idea, but something about hate has always been much easier for him to navigate than secondary positive emotions. it is easy for him to recognise and place— familiar— and thus he is somehow magnetically pulled towards it.

he tries to disguise his proximity into something occurring by sole accident or force, arms tightly crossed at his chest as he somehow finds himself beside you, watching the main group of people in the middle of the room.

you notice him. of course you do. you try not to comment, until his shoulder brushes yours.

the first time, you ignore it. then it pushes against yours, firm enough for it to be clearly intentional.

you take in a deep breath. “what?”

“this party is exceptionally repulsive.” his eyes remain glued to the front, and so are yours.

your jaw clenches. “if you’re here, might as well try to enjoy.”

“absolutely not.”

“why?” you finally tilt towards him, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at why you’ve even been entertaining him. maybe because you saw how pitifully he was standing in the corner for the past hour.

he shrugs one shoulder, chin tilted downwards, unbothered. “because it is beneath me.”

at this point, you have genuinely tried to hold it in, but you cannot tolerate it anymore. he is insufferable.

“then why are you here?!” your hands fling up in frustration, furrowed eyebrows and dark eyes digging into his. “i genuinely don’t care about how much it’s beneath you! just leave! i’m not here to entertain you, got it? so stop bothering me and continue to mope in a corner cause i don’t care, okay?” you pause your gestures and dramatics for a moment to look at his reaction to your explosion.

he looks completely unbothered.

his face is entirely the same as before. bored, challenging eyes drilling into yours, arms casually crossed, that irritating eyebrow inched upwards just enough to let you know that your outburst is deadass amusing to him.

the groan of fury and the physical violence that supersedes is certainly not your fault, because he was asking for it. desperately.

with a roar (thankfully not heard by others mingling over the loudness of the music), you fist the fabric at his shoulders and shove him far back into the wall behind, in a corner of the large party room.

that finally elicits a reaction. he lets out a sharp gasp, short and barely audible, eyes widening momentarily as his hands fly up to your arms to try to control the movement, his eyebrows creasing further.

he grunts when his back hits the wall because you make sure he hits hard, and he feels the shock go up his spine. his teeth grit, furious eyes glaring at you.

“are you out of your mind?!” he exhales, half breathless from the adrenaline in his body. you glare back, jaw clenched, unyielding. “get off of me!”

you grip his shirt tighter. “i swear i’m going to knock your teeth out, wayne. i’ve had enough.”

for the first time, damian feels something shoot up his body. not just pain, but actual nerves.

not just because he’s afraid of your threat (surprisingly he is due to the severity of your wildness and there being no supervision to protect him), but because you are close enough for your shoes to be bumping into his, your breath to be not far from his, and your features to be suddenly very very clear and in his face.

you look so pissed off.

so angry.

jaw clenched, teeth pulled, glossy lips snarled, bright eyes squinted.

it makes his body feel warm.

his enlarged eyes flicker from one of your features to the other, breathing heavily. “are you going to hit me?” he breathes, voice dropping an octave.

your eyes narrow, chest heaving with growing frustration. “you’re really asking for it, aren’t you—”

his fingers tighten around your arms. that’s the only sign you get before his lips peck yours.

it’s swift, it’s callous, it’s warm. less a peck, more just a press. yet you feel it’s intentionality.

your eyes flicker from his eyes to his turtleneck. the colour is uncannily the same, and weirdly adds to his strange appeal. or maybe it’s just too dark to see his stupid grimace properly. or maybe you’re close enough to see it just right.

for a moment you watch his cheeks tint pink with wide eyes and parted lips, taking in the sight of your gloss coating his pursed lips, before letting stupid ideas and adrenaline win.

the shock is enough for you to chase the feeling back.

your lips push onto his.

his eyes squeeze shut because never in a million years would he have thought this could happen next. his heart pounds against his ribcage, threatening to escape. he’s sure his brown skin is red as a tomato with how clammy his palms feel, and somewhere the rational idea of giving his first kiss to his least favourite person exists in his mind, before it is abolished by the pressure of you deepening the kiss.

he tries his best to angle his lips to mould perfectly against yours, chin tilting upwards to apply the same pressure you are, savouring the physical feeling of your soft lips on his. it feels like taking a shot. he feels drunk and stupid with how much he enjoys it.

when you pull back slightly, he thinks it’s over. and then you move your mouth back, fists pulling him closer, still aggressive, gliding your lips back in. it takes damian a second to get used to the new rhythm of movement, but he quickly adapts, leaning forward and tilting his head so he can take your bottom lip deeper into his mouth.

he allows himself the liberty of enjoying the experience regardless of how pathetic he feels, his hands leaving your arms. one finds your neck, curling around to pull you closer, which he understands is a good idea because you press your lips firmer against his, drawing him in harder.

the other hesitates at your waist. he’s not brave enough for that yet.

and it’s good that he doesn’t because soon after, you pull away for a large gasp of air. your eyes are wide, mouth agape as you exhale and inhale.

damian feels stupid as he opens his eyes, and beyond embarrassed. it would even be different if you had initiated it, then at least he wouldn’t have to feel like a pathetic hormonal teenager who can’t control emotions he hasn’t experienced before, but he kissed you first, so really he should now be okay with having his nose broken.

luckily, you don’t punch him. but you’re as taken aback as him as you let go of his shirt and pull away. damian’s hands instinctively slide away, his fingers awkwardly fiddling. he clears his throat and licks his lips because they’re still cruelly covered in your saliva, looking away as if that helps hide the redness of his brown skin at his ears and cheeks.

you watch his nervous response. you’ve never seen him like this before, with you having the upper hand. you want to berate him, but not only did you kiss back like a maniac, but he looks strangely adorable.

you sigh. “being an asshole to someone isn’t the right way to get them.”

damian immediately snarls, head snapping towards you. “i do not want you,” his voice is indignant, offended by the implication. it’s true, even if mangled, he still feels irritation at your existence. especially when you scoff in return to his statement.

“so you kiss people you don’t want? this party has helped me learn a lot about you,” you chuckle humourlessly.

damian’s eyebrows furrow deeper, cheeks feeling hotter. “stop that.”

you scorn. “what?”

he looks away and then forces himself to look back. he crosses his arms, begrudgingly continuing to speak, voice low and weirdly quiet. “being cruel.”

your jaw drops. “how am i being cruel? you’re the one who followed me around to piss me off and then kissed—”

“i don’t know why i did it, alright?” damian leans forward subconsciously, eyebrows tilted in anxiousness. he takes in a deep breath, maintaining sharp eye contact. “but you kissed back. you are not innocent in this—,” he waves his hand confusedly. “—whatever this is, either.”

your lips curve into a frown. “you’re the one who despises me.”

he blushes deeper, emerald eyes narrowing further. he doesn’t respond, simply because he doesn’t have one.

you eye his expression watchfully. you don’t push, instead clearing your throat. your eyebrows raise sternly. “you don’t get to be cruel anymore.”

his eyebrows crinkle. “pardon?”

“you heard me,” you say, trying to steady your nerves. this might be the only constructive conversation you’ve ever had with him. “you kissed me. you’re not allowed to be cruel.”

his lips curve downwards, eyebrows collapsing further, clearly irritated. “that was—” he starts, pausing, because he sincerely doesn’t know.

you wait a second before adding, voice steady. “i didn’t say you had to like me.”

damian feels his ears heat up at that. of course he doesn’t like you. surely. he doesn’t like anyone, and yet he feels warm even just standing so close to you.

he looks away and then back, jawline annoyingly sharp. he exhales through his nose.

“fine.” it feels less like agreement and more like surrender, and the way his eyes soften, just slightly, makes your heart skip a beat. “i will moderate my behaviour,” he adds, locking eyes with you.

he leans closer to you than before. not touching, not speaking. he looks like he’s pondering, his eyes narrowing for a moment. his arms return to their default position, crossing over his chest as he takes in a heavy breath, voice restrained, sentence begrudgingly spoken. “but you remain with me for the spare duration of this function.”

your lips purse, squinting at him. you sigh. “..fine. whatever.” you look around. “i’ve been away from my friends for too long anyway.”

you turn back to see him watching you, green eyes looking through you, sharp but not hostile like usual, his bottom lip between his teeth. it makes your heart soften.

“come,” you say, sighing. “let’s get something to drink.” you extend your hand, nervous yourself.

damian can’t hide his surprise. he stares at your extended palm like it’s a bomb, analysing if it’s docile or about to explode. he contemplates for a long time before he looks away, hand slipping into yours, cheeks horribly red.

Jason always wondered what it was that made you stay. Was it the idea of him being Red Hood that had your interests peaked? Or the books he traded with you every week? He couldn’t put a finger on why you ever decided to be best friends. 

But here you two were. Roommates. 

i'm gonna smoke you up ❤️‍🔥🔥

I'M BEGGINGG 😭🙏🕯️🧿🕯️

summary: you and art have been on and off for months. you give him company, he pays you. its a win-win situation, specially with the sex. but things change when he starts turning more needy, more sweet. and that doesn't sit right with a you; a 20 something year old struggling to find out who she really is.

note: im backk!! hopefully yall missed me, or even remembered me! >.<

"leaving so soon?" his deep voice made you flinch as you were midway through putting your feet into your shoes. "yeah, sorry." you smile at him, quickly averting your gaze.

you always leave after sex. sure you sleep for a while, but each time he wakes up he's alone, without your warmth. but really, what did he expect? you were a random girl he found at the bar. months into his divorce and he needed to release some steam. and you looked so pretty in the dance floor. flash forward to now, you're both in this...toxic cycle.

definitely not lovers. but definitely not just friends. a rare inbetween that for months he was happy with. but now? not so much.

"stay. come on, its 4am, i cant let you get a taxi at this time." he sits up, wrapping his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back into his arms. his hands working fast on taking off the clothes you had just put back on.

you comply, mainly because you love the attention he gives you. its something that got you hooked on him since the beginning. but there's also a deep feeling of dread in your stomach. you like his company, you do.

but you like it a little bit too much.

you're getting too comfortable around him, around his touches, his caresses. "go back to sleep, yeah? ill bring you breakfast to bed tomorrow." he smiles softly, petting your hair while burying your face into his chest. you're now skin to skin, making everything much more natural. "i really think i should go.." you protest quietly, enjoying the way his hard muscles feel against your body.

"and i think you shouldn't. there's no taxis out there at this time. and i wont let you walk home." not without him. not when you're so vulnerable. "plus, my bed is much more comfortable." you turn your head to look up at him, your bottom lip jutted out into a slight pout.

he looks down at you, the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin and he pecks your lips. you melt, no questions asked. your arms wrap around his torso as you make yourself more comfortable.

you've recently been getting this strong urge to never let go of him. specially in occasions like these. when his arms are embracing you tightly and your body is right against yours. you usually pull away before you get too attached to someone.

and sure, maybe he's still not fully over his divorce, and you're in no good mental state to be with someone older, someone who's looking to settle down. but how can you walk away when he's peppering your forehead with tiny kisses.

how could you say no when your blinks start to turn heavy?

you dont. instead you do decide to stay.

and maybe everything is not so bad with him by your side.