⩇⩇ 🗼 ▍ FRIENDLY RELATIONSHIP.
WARNINGS? MILD INSULTS.
READER'S GENDER: NEUTRAL.
¡ 1692 WORDS ! SPANISH VERSION HERE.
ⓘ ¡Damian is the type of friend who is honest and gives you sensible advice!
ⓘ He will always tell you when you're wrong… although he may not be the best when it comes to providing emotional support!
ⓘ He won't sugarcoat anything: he is direct and tough if necessary!
notes: SORRY FOR MY BAD ENGLISH.
If there's one thing you've learned about Damian, it's that he never stays silent, especially when he sees someone close to him veering off the wrong path. Whether it's for minor or insurmountable issues, he refuses to stand idly by without intervening on their behalf.
He's not someone who beats around the bush, and his frankness often (or rather, always) leaves you breathless, and you don't even know why… But it's probably because his penetrating gaze never wavers from yours.
And no matter how hard you try, you couldn't hold his gaze, so pure and burning green. Behind his carefully composed features, you could sense how he expressed his contempt with every prolonged silence. His clenched fists betrayed the tension he barely managed to contain, as if he wished to strike you so you could finally understand.
"You're being a pathetic idiot" are the first words that escape his lips, launching directly at you, and you can't help but feel as if he punched you in the stomach with every syllable dripping with disdain and disappointment, each statement striking your senses already battered by your own thoughts.
While he may be your best friend, his words didn't seek to comfort you in the slightest; his touch didn't promise the solace you were looking for. He hadn't come to heal your wounds but to tear off the poisoned bandage you thought would cover them.
Forget the notion that best friends treat each other nicely, with love and tenderness. For him, friendship wasn't a bed of roses to seek refuge from pain.
His devotion to you wasn't expressed through caresses or pretty phrases. It was his fists that would push if necessary to pull you out of the mess you were sinking into, and with a sword in hand if needed, due to your stubborn way of acting.
There was no room for subtlety when it came to saving what he considered to be his. He wouldn't even allow you to take shelter in the embrace of sorrow, to take root in the muddy ground of the very people who left you in such a state. He would uproot you, like removing a cancerous growth, even if the process was as brutal as a surgical amputation.
He would never allow you to succumb to your own pain. He only wanted to help you, even if he wasn't the right person for it.
With your face red with humiliation, you try to defend yourself, babbling excuses that sound increasingly feeble to your own ears. You wanted to articulate a defense, to provide an explanation that would appease his anger… but the truth is, you had no words. Your barely uttered excuses sound weaker and weaker to your own ears. His truths had cut you open, exposing your most intimate miseries.
You felt naked and defenseless under his presence, so overwhelming that it seemed to drain the oxygen from your lungs with every breath. The solidity of his posture, so upright and unyielding, made your fragile structure tremble. In his presence, you felt tiny and insignificant, an insect tossed about by the currents of your own misguided self-disdain. How could you stand under the crushing weight of such a presence, which paled your will with the ease of a fading light? Everything about him seemed designed to diminish and break you, leaving you on the edge of the precipice.
Who could avoid feeling this way when Damian's gaze remains unwavering, his furrowed brow indicating that he won't be deceived by your cheap justifications?
"Why can't you see that you're sinking?" he interrupts you before you can speak again, his tone already irritable, cutting through the heavy air that has accumulated in the room. "I know you're better than this."
His hand reaches out to your face, gently holding your chin to force you to lift your gaze, to face him.
"You have to stop," he insists, his voice now soft, lowering in volume, and that hurts even more than his previous harsh criticisms. "You can't go on like this."
"I'm not the one who is wrong," you deny, "I'm not…"
Damian lowered his hand, gripping your shoulder with more assurance. He's aware that he has been aggressive in the past, so now, with relaxed nerves, he tries to show you that he's not your enemy; he's your friend, doing what needs to be done.
"You are," he shakes his head in resignation, watching as you barely acknowledge his words with a devastating expression. "Hey, don't start with that."
That was the damn expression you had on your face every time you felt bad about something, guilty like a puppy hiding its tail between its legs.
"I don't hate you for that," he immediately continues, "but I can't see you doing… this. I can't let you keep lying to yourself."
You slump on the edge of the room's sofa, using it as a way to ignore the discomfort of the lesser hero's influence over you. But he doesn't stay behind for a second, sighing and sitting by your side.
You can still feel him next to you, and it suffocates you, but it's comforting at the same time. It's the knowledge that he's present, that he's not leaving you hanging.
"Do you understand me?"
You take a minute, or maybe ten, taking deep breaths and assimilating his words. Your mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, doubts, and criticisms that threaten to bring on a migraine for which you won't be grateful at all.
And he remains there, squinting his green orbs, searching for any trace of understanding in you.
"I know," you whisper, with a dry throat and a hitched breath. Your heart races, trying to make its way to acceptance, but you can barely manage it.
"You know?" His smile is that of someone who has accomplished their goal, the smile of a man who has broken through the wall of your pride and now appears satisfied.
You hunch over a little more, allowing yourself to fully feel the humiliation in which your friend has exposed you. You settle in, back against the cushion, hands gripping your knees, gaze fixed on the emptiness of the well-maintained wooden floor.
The only thing Damian thinks is best to alleviate the situation is to put his arm around your shoulders. Not in a comforting gesture, but in a supportive squeeze. It's his way of showing you that you're not alone, that you notice it, that you feel it.
"We're going to fix this," his jaw tightens, and you can feel the pressure of his arm growing.
"How?" you stammer, gripping the surface of the sofa. You don't know where to go, what to think, or what to feel.
"By starting with owning up to your mistakes," his firm tone leaves no room for discussion. "And by acknowledging that you're not alone."
His eyes open slightly, never leaving your sight, fixed on every one of your movements: the twitch of your fingers, how your eyes dart from side to side to avoid it, or even how you purse your lips to hold back any impulsive words.
"I'm here," he reminds you, and his smile, now, is kind. "And I won't leave you."
You allow yourself to release a deep and shaky sigh. Your mind is a chaos of emotions seeking an escape, but he doesn't allow it with his hand lightly squeezing your shoulder, causing you to start accepting what you're hearing.
"But I'm not going to be your mother or your diaper-changing nanny," he raises an eyebrow in disdain. "You have to be the one to make the decision."
He turns you to face him directly on the sofa, his hands delicately moving on your arms, refusing to let go of you for the moment.
"Why are you so tough?" you complain, catching his attention and causing his lips to curve into a mocking smile.
"Because if I'm not, who else will be?" he responds, maintaining his layer of seriousness. "I don't think your neighbor will point out how messed up you are down to your neurons."
"Do you think I don't know that I'm damn messed up?"
"You know?" he says, barely flinching. "Then go fix it."
Your fists tighten and loosen in an endless cycle of frustration and anxiety that consumes you inch by inch.
"I can't."
"Why not?" his questioning, despite sounding like one, is not an attack but rather a push for you to examine your own fears and excuses.
"Because…" your mouth dries up, your breath halts in your throat.
"Because…?"
You get caught in an uncomfortable silence, the walls of the room feel tight, and the weight of your mistakes accumulates in your chest.
Your friend, the one who fears no truth, the one who doesn't allow life to slide by you without leaving marks, stares at you intently, still waiting for your response.
"Why can't you?" his persistence continues.
You take a moment, sighing, trying to articulate the reasons that remain silent on your lips. Your gaze drifts, searching for answers in the emptiness surrounding you.
"Because you're afraid," Damian finishes the sentence, with the certainty of someone who has already fought the monster that now torments you. "Because you believe you don't deserve to be happy without it."
Reluctantly, you nod in response to his harsh words, wishing deep down to dismiss them as incorrect despite their accuracy.
Damian knows it, and that's why his smile widens, displaying that damn smile he always wears when he's got you figured out. But it's not a cruel smile like in most of his victories; it's the smile of someone who knows you're making progress.
"I'm here for you, remember that, you hollow-headed fool. So don't you dare whine any longer about that stupidity."
That's just how he is. His tough, and sometimes even hostile, way of speaking is his peculiar way of showing you that he cares, that his honesty isn't a weapon to hurt you but a way to help you see yourself from a different perspective.
He has his own way of expressing his friendship and concern for you. It's that same affection from someone who isn't afraid to burn you with their truth if it means rescuing you from the clutches of your worst enemy: yourself.
Did you know that for that reason, and only for that reason, Damian would always be ready to pull you out of there because, in his own way, he cared about your well-being.
Living after dying was too expensive a price that everyone avoided, because anyone would not be able to continue or repent when the effects of madness came. Everyone who has ever been revived in that well may never be the same again, Damian knew this very well, he has seen it with his own eyes.
The Lazarus Pit was too dangerous. They could use it on soldiers to keep the League of Shadows standing, not use it on loved ones. Using the grave of someone you love is like a death note delivered in front of the devil, on shaking knees. But the loneliness, the guilt, accumulated on him.
He let your inert body sink into the waters, freeing your death to the forces that his grandfather abused. It was a nightmare to see you like this, reminding him that he couldn't save you.
How did he fail like this? He is the heir of the Al Ghul, the blood of the deaths of his origins wells up in his veins. How did your death pass over him?
He can't allow it. No. He forbids you, in life and soul, to agonize in his presence, to abandon him and release him. You have to be with him, he won't let you even fall into the arms of death.
His eyes move over you, as he is always very curious about you. He is fascinated by your body, your curves, and the way the water covers your contours so softly on your fatal wounds. The gaze lingers on your soft, kissable lips, and he longs for the taste of your return. He wants to taste the sweetness of your lips with his. He longs for you, because he needs you. Damian will have wealth, soldiers, weapons, blood. But not having you is like a curse.
Soft, slow breathing is heard. The little chest goes up and down, in and out, in and out. But he doesn't move, not even a muscle, while he's listening to your every heartbeat from the edge of the Lazarus Pit.
Your body begins to react to the effects of the immortal waters, and he looked at you serenely. His hands clenched into knuckles, wishing for your own soul to be saved. Your fingers begin to move, and your body reacts, wanting to escape the waters as soon as you opened the eyes that Damian had loved so much from beneath the waters.
He gently lifts you into his arms and lifts you out of the water, feeling the living heat radiating from your body. He looks at you, intently, attentive to everything about you as he wraps his arms around your body tightly, not wanting you to escape from him.
“Beloved,” Damian whispers, his voice a hoarse but reassuring whisper. He feels your heartbeat. Oh, God. Your heart is beating, your lungs are breathing, your blood is reviving. He smiles slightly, noticing that you have calmed down from the waters and understand every part of what happened.
“I won't let you go… Again,” Damian whispers, almost to himself, holding you tighter, burying himself in your shoulder.
He can sense that you are agitated, your mind processing your return to life, wanting to ask. But the simple, cold gaze of those emerald orbs warn you to remain silent, like before you lost your life.
“I forbid you to leave me again.” He hissed, his breath now hitting your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He can't lose his favorite toy.
──── Damian Wayne x Thief!Reader. 934 words.
Part one here.
He had let you go. You escaped thanks to him, he didn't use violence, he didn't chase you, he didn't send you to the police. He let you go, he easily let you go with all those bills of your goal. Why? Why did you have to steal his heart?
He can't think about that, not when it's about you. You are a criminal, he should put you behind bars. But he knows he can't, and you know it too.
“You haven't been stealing in a while, fleabag.” Damian spoke coldly as he watched you approach a window that you silently opened of the jewelry store, preventing you from even entering.
His eyes look at you penetratingly, analyzing your every move. Is it attraction you feel? He can't feel that, not with a thief like you. He is Robin, he is a hero, not a hypocrite like Batman.
You turn around, seeing the young man in the Robin costume behind you. You sigh with disapproval and descend from the window that you failed to interrupt, landing on the ground.
“Oh, my bad.” You say, with a hint of sarcasm, as you leans towards the boy, attentively. “I returned to action because I knew you would come, little bird.”
His eyes watched you and studied you for a few moments, his gaze was curious, but he continued to hide it. “Were you waiting for me?” Damian asked calmly, the smile on his face becoming more subtle but more threatening, he didn’t trust someone like you.
“Yes, I was waiting for you.” You said as you walked until you were in front of him, as if you were challenging him to a duel, as if you weren't afraid of him. Because you know that, despite his attempts to catch you, he will never dare let you go to the police. This is a game that will only continue if he lets you get away with the robbery with dirty hands.
“You know, you really should leave the stealing for people.” Damian said with a confident tone. But his curiosity was winning over him.
The young hero enjoyed the fact that, despite his best efforts, the thief could escape his watchful gaze, and that the more he thought about you, the less sense it made. You seemed like the type of character he would despise the most, yet something drew him towards you, sending shivers down his spine.
“Nah, It's obvious you adore me, admit it.” You smirked at him. “You can't get bored of me.”
“You’re wrong, cat.” Damian said, looking at you intently, his words sounded cold and harsh. Damian’s voice had completely changed when he addressed you directly. He seemed unapproachable and intimidating, yet something else lurked beneath his gaze. Perhaps the little thief wasn’t as bad as he thought.
As if he couldn't do anything else but look into your eyes, he was hypnotized by their color beauty. He wanted to look away, but something about them was calling his name. He was confused, but he liked it.
“Ah, is that so?” You smile as he took a step closer to Damian, who remained still in his same spot, not moving. Damian stares at you. He watches your movements, and it seems to him that you are doing it on purpose to make him feel jealous, to make him lose your concentration. He's not sure, but the little smile on your face is adorable. “Your mouth says one thing, but your mind says another.”
He tried to hide his attraction, and failed miserably. His heart was racing as he got closer to you, his movements becoming slower. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss you, to hold you in his arms. The idea was so appealing, so strange…
“Don't think you can trick me, cat,” Damian said, calmly, barely moving a muscle. There was nothing he wanted more than to kiss you, he couldn't deny that his heart was beating at a furious pace. He wanted to do something more than just kiss you and let you go.
“How does this game end? Does the thief finally get captured and sent to the police, or does the criminal escape with the hero's heart?”
“Why don’t we find out?” You leaned closer, your breaths touching the other's face with an intoxicating softness. Damian's mind was bursting with questions, were you doing that to distract him? Or was this a real scene, beneath the veil of crime alley?
His body trembled, and he felt his heart beating wildly. You were beautiful as you leaned forward, closer to him. The heat of your breath was something else, that was it, he couldn't resist you anymore.
Damian’s heart raced, he closed his eyes and captured your lips with his own. He moved his hands to your hair and let himself go, kissing you passionately, he could no longer hold back, and that scared him. His feelings for you were real, and they weren't supposed to be.
You had captured him without even realizing it, you had conquered his heart. He knew this was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so damn right. The feeling was new to him, he never felt this way for anyone. Was there something more? Was it possible that he really liked you?
Damian opened his eyes slightly, looking at you, damn. He was doing what he swore he would never do. He was letting the thief steal his heart.
“You know what they say, little birds like you aren't too hard to catch.”
You sit in front of Damian at a table in a small breakfast cafe somewhere in Gotham. It’s been months—maybe a year— since you’ve last seen him, although the last memory between the two of you is something you don’t want to remember. There’s a frown on your face as you poke at your food for a bit before you take a glance up at him.
“So…how have you been? It’s almost been a year”
thank god Damian was the first to break the silence between you two.
“I’ve been…. Alright,” you hesitate but go on “Y’know, with school and work, not to mention I moved from my old place into something more bigger and comfortable for my taste” You can hear him hum despite the noise that’s coming from the one kitchen and other people around you.
Finally, you take a bite out of your food—chewing slowly before you ask about him. Damian hesitates much more than you did earlier
“I’m doing just fine”
“That’s good to know”
the awkward silence comes back quickly, you aren’t really hungry so you go back to picking at your food after a couple of bites. Damian finishes half of his food and you have much more on your plate than his. He takes a breather, hands intertwining with each other as he brings them up to his face and finds a spot right under his nose.
You put down your fork “Why’d you call me here Damian? Surely you had a reason too”
“I do” he doesn’t give you many details so you frown.
“And what could that reason be?” He lets out a loud sigh, eyes closed as he thinks for a moment. It’s not long before he opens his mouth to say something
“I’m still in love with you” You are taken aback by the sudden bluntness of his sentence.
“What?”
“Do I have to repeat myself?”
“No—no I heard you fine the first time, it’s just—” you stop to take a breather “Damian you’re seeing someone, I’m seeing someone”
“You’re seeing someone?”
“That’s not the point” you shake your head “You have someone who can understand you more than I ever did. I know who she is and you two have so much in common. Much more than we ever did back then. She loves you” the sigh that comes out of his is much rougher.
“that’s the problem—she loves me, but I don’t love her” he tries to hold your hand but you pull back quickly shaking your head as you grab ahold of your purse and dig through it “Agreeing to meet you, was a bad idea” you pull out a twenty dollar bill and placed it on the table before getting up with your chair scratching against the floor roughly as it makes a noise.
“I moved on Damian, and so should you. Don’t contact me again.”
The movie plays, the dark light of the screen playing on their faces as attentive eyes take in the scenes. You could hear the speakers increasing the sounds, the murmurs subsided and the cell phone screens went off.
Tim's index finger tapped anxiously on the bucket of popcorn, which they had already been emptying less than halfway through the movie.
Tim had been preparing this abruptly, feeling the necessary opportunity to be able to go out with you, as an apology since he had to miss the multiple outings that you were trying to have with him. His mission as Red Robin had taken up a lot of his free time to be able to have a normal life with you.
After playing for about half an hour, the movie was already getting boring. It was too horrible in every way and the plot was too cheap, Tim could guess the ending without having seen the title.
It was almost a bad joke. He had to plan everything, including tickets, your schedules, his schedules, asking Bruce for some time off, and working overtime on his missions to leave the rest less.
He did everything to be able to spend time with you, and in the end he feels like he ruined it.
Tim feels like he's been ruining every minute that's passed, and he thinks. Why didn't you do more research on the film? Oh, right, because he was spending constant hours without sleep doing his irritable hero job of taking on pesky villains and taking care of the city that was dying to pieces.
You're stared at the screen, attentive to the boring scenes of the movie on the big screen. For him, you are the most beautiful person in life.
“Hm…. Are you enjoying it?” He asked in a whisper. Tim felt guilty ruining the date with this movie. He could feel that he must be ruining the date.
You listen to Tim, and turns your head. Picking up a couple of popcorn and putting them in your mouth.
“I like it, and you?” It could be a white lie, but you didn't want him to worry.
“Hmmm.” He looked back at you as you ate your popcorn. He tapped his index finger on the table again as the movie dragged on. “This is soooo boring.” He muttered and looked over at you again. “You sure you're enjoying this?” He asked, still feeling a little guilt for dragging you into it.
“Well… the truth is that I'm dying of boredom.” You laugh, and continues eating the popcorn to kill time.
“Yeah, me too.” He said with a sigh. Tim knew he had failed at making this date special for you. They were just sitting here like two bored kids on a Sunday afternoon. His eyes looked back at the screen, waiting for something exciting to happen.
“Don't worry, don't worry. The good thing about this is that I'm with you.” You say and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek, which makes Tim tense.
“Do you want to leave? I mean… we could always go somewhere else.” He suggested, feeling bad about ruining your night. The flickering lights of the theater seemed to mock them, their desperate attempt to find something entertaining in this god-awful movie.
Tim hated disappointing people, especially you. You were the only bright light in his life, surrounded by darkness and chaos. And here he was, ruining even this little moment they had together. But then you speak, and your words light up the room for him. It's not how he imagined it would be; you weren't angry or disappointed. You even laughed about it.
“Yeah, let's just go somewhere else.” You answer to him, and he's feeling relieved. At least this date isn't completely ruined yet.
Tim stands up, offering his hand to you. He wants to make sure that everything is still fine between them. Even though he knows it's silly, he feels like he needs to prove himself somehow. To show that despite all his flaws, he can still make things fun and exciting for you.
He leads you out of the dark theater into the bright neon lights of Gotham's streets. The city never sleeps, but tonight it seems even more alive than usual. Couples walk past them, some laughing, others holding hands tightly. Tim feels a pang of jealousy deep inside him. Why couldn't he just be like they with you? He's like a ridiculous child.
Just as Tim had those thoughts, you takes his hand and looks down, looking at their intertwined hands, enjoying the touch. You looks at Tim and smiles warmly.
Tim's mind starts working fast like a complex machine. There's an idea brewing inside him, and he knows that if it works out, it might just save the date. It's risky, but hey, when you're on a mission to impress your girlfriend, how can you afford to take risks?
He sees the smile on your face, and it's like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds in his mind. It feels as if everything is suddenly okay again. Just seeing you happy makes all the stress and guilt go away for a moment.
His thoughts are interrupted when you squeeze his hand gently. You look up at him with those beautiful eyes, full of understanding and affection. He tightens your hand lightly, not wanting to scare you with how much this small gesture means to him. But he knows that, even though he tries to hide it, you can see the love and affection in his eyes. “Let's just walk around, maybe we'll find something fun to do.” Tim says, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
They walk down streets filled with neon lights and loud music. There are people everywhere, laughing, talking, enjoying themselves. It's almost overwhelming after being stuck inside the dark theater for so long. The smell of hot dogs and cotton candy mixes with the exhaust fumes from passing cars. It's chaotic yet somehow comforting, like being part of a bustling ecosystem.
He feels guilty for bringing you here; this isn't how he imagined their date would go. They were supposed to have dinner at some fancy restaurant or something romantic like watching stars in Central Park. But they never seemed to have time for those things anymore.
“Maybe we could get some ice cream?” Tim suggests, feeling silly even asking such a simple question.
“I like the idea.” You nod with a smile as looks at Tim. “I love ice cream.”
He feels a sense of relief wash over him as you agree to his suggestion. It's not much, but it's something. Something that might just make this date worthwhile after all. They walk hand in hand towards the nearest ice cream parlor, both trying to ignore the cold wind that's picking up outside. He knows that this is his chance to make things right. To show you that he cares about more than just being a hero. That he can be a good boyfriend too.
They find an ice cream parlor not far from where they are, and Tim leads the way inside. The place is filled in the smell with freshly made waffle cones, vanilla and chocolate, and there are people of all ages enjoying their treats. It feels like a small oasis in the middle of the chaotic city.
As they wait in line, Tim takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You don't resist, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It's just the two of them, standing in line for ice cream on a Friday night. And it feels perfect.
Finally, it's their turn at the counter. Tim orders two scoops of your favorite flavor - chocolate chip cookie dough. As he hands you the cup, he leans in close and whispers in your ear. “You know what I love about this moment?” You shake your head, confused. “The anticipation,” he says, winking at you.
“Anticipation?” You repeat, chuckling softly.
“Yes!” he exclaims. “The anticipation of digging into this delicious ice cream.” And with that, he takes a bite of his ice cream as he hands you yours.
She lets out a laugh at Tim's actions, grabbing her ice cream as she smiles at her boyfriend. “You're silly.” She says teasingly as she began to eat her own ice cream.
“And you're beautiful,” he replies, taking a bite of his own ice cream. He watches as you savor each spoonful, enjoying the simple pleasure of this moment together. It may not be the most exciting date they've ever had, but it's something that neither of them will ever forget.
He watches as you eat your ice cream, enjoying the sight of your lips wrapped around the spoon. It's such a simple thing, but it fills him with joy. You look so happy, and he feels like everything is going to be okay. At least for tonight. He loved that smile and didn't want to see you cry over the ice cream, even when you dropped yours because of a stray dog.
As they walk back through the streets of Gotham, hand in hand, Tim knows that no matter what challenges lie ahead, he will always do everything in his power to make sure that you are safe, loved, and happy. And even if things don't always go according to plan, at least they can find comfort in each other's arms. Because in the end, that's all that really matters. Because with you, even the most ordinary moments can become extraordinary.
―― Damian Wayne x Thief!Reader. 674 words.
Part two here.
Damian hates this with every ounce of his being, and he has every reason to hate it. It's not for nothing that he puts on Robin's cape and takes to the streets following his father like a tail dog, hoping to catch the attention of criminals and kick their butts. He does it because it is a duty that he chose and to which he was guided. That's why he made fun of the love relationship between Bruce and Selina, for Damian, it is a hypocritical issue, his father, the hero, dating a thief. How funny.
And now he feels like the hypocrite.
You had just robbed some important men, a suitcase full of money. Damian was doing his daily patrol, when he saw you—he didn't have to blink twice to know it was you―he had already been alert to your activity, knowing that you would appear; because he wants you to do it.
He attacked you as you jumped from building to building, you wouldn't have even noticed his presence until he gave you that strong kick that sent you off your path. He had decided the right moment to attack you as you jumped onto a roof.
The young Robin landed a few meters away from you, he looked at the suitcase that was next to you. He approached with slow steps, and kicked the suitcase away of your grip.
“You lost a life, cat.” Robin sentences, his voice almost a whisper. His hands clench into fists as he looks at you, brow furrowed, watching as you rub your neck from the pain of the fall he caused you.
“Shut up, little bird.” You growled, trying to grab the briefcase containing your robbery target. Damian stepped on the object, narrowing his eyes at you.
“If you have courage, take it,” Damian said, and pulled the R-shaped shuriken from his belt. “Just look how much I care, cat.” He joked calmly, face Stoic with a tone of defiance in his voice, trying to provoke your reaction and show his superiority of the moment. You're just a thief, not a fighter. Damian knows this because he has analyzed you—he is very interested in you.
His green eyes stared at you, a slight smile forming on his face. He liked when you get angry whenever he interrupts your heists, when he stops you from accomplishing your crimes, and you have to fight him. But that's when something never fits: he never gave you up to the police.
You tried to attack him with a punch―or a scratch rather―but you failed horribly. Robin saw your movements and stopped your blow with his hand, looking at you coldly.
Neither of them moved a muscle, frozen at the moment between duty and crime, feeling the pressure course through his veins. His hand moved slowly, holding your wrist.
Why couldn't I arrest you? It was the question Damian couldn't answer, and he wished no one would ask it. He was even doing his best to keep Father from knowing about his failures.
Then, to your surprise, he let go of you, letting his hands fall to his sides. He uttered no words, no sounds, no clicks. He didn't even attack you, as if he was absorbed in another world.
Then you understood, he was letting you escape. You didn't waste the opportunity, although you seemed confused by it.
“Damn cats…” Damian muttered, breathing deeply, his heart beating faster than ever. He watched as you grabbed the suitcase and run away quickly.
Damian felt a rush of adrenaline that filled his entire body. It had been a long time since he had experienced someone who made him feel like this, and now the person who did it turn out to be a thief.
He is experiencing the same thing as his father, a game of cat and mouse. He chases you, defeats you, and pushes you to your limits, as if all he was looking for was your reaction—your attention. The Robin is just like his father, but that irritates him, because he is confused and doesn't know how to react…
