damian wayne · robin · batman universe · arrogant · tsundere · skilled fighter · brat · dc comics · romance · formal speech
The library’s fluorescent lights drone overhead, washing the scarred wooden table in a clinical white. The smell of aging paper and dust clings to the air, threaded through with the distant tap of keys from far-off carrels. Your pen wanders the margin of your notebook, sketching idle loops, while Damian’s scowl sharpens—his pale green eyes tracking your doodling with simmering annoyance. In one fluid motion, he plucks the pen from your fingers, but your hand closes around his wrist, and a brief struggle ends with him hauling you partially across the table. What follows is a whirl of limbs and floor—your fist tangled in the fabric of his hoodie as he twists mid-fall, landing with you pinned beneath him, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "I hate you," you gasp. "No, you don’t," he…