The Ultimate Soulreach :[Damian Wayne x Reader]

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Hi guys,

Finally a fun scene - which was oddly more difficult to write than the last one. I thought maybe for one chapter the drama would be minimal, but don't worry, shit will be hitting the fan real soon.

Once again, thank you all for the kudos and support, I always appreciate it <3

Enjoy!

(Y/N) POV:

I don't know what I was expecting when I decided to come to a house party after Soulreaching with Damian Wayne, but I certainly didn't expect every head to swivel in my direction when I walk through the front door with Sam. I also didn't anticipate the open mouths and disbelieving murmurs swirling around the room as Sam grabs my hand and begins needling us through the throngs of sweaty students.

As we walk past our peers, I send a silent thanks to whoever made the music so loud that I can't hear whatever hushed comments and potential rumors they are spreading like wildfire. With our hands intertwined, we quickly make our way toward the kitchen, refusing to speak to anyone despite their multiple attempts to strike up a conversation.

Mama needs her buzz first.

Sam, still leading the way, steps aside as we enter the gargantuan, renovated chef's kitchen. Eyebrows raising, I look around the spacious all-white kitchen and admire the beautifully veined waterfall countertops on the 10-foot island. I can feel a smile creeping on my face as I look at all of the top-of-the-line appliances and appreciate the over-the-top refrigerator, the width of a car, made to blend in with the other floor-to-ceiling cabinets.

I'd kill to cook in this kitchen.

Before I can daydream about which recipes I'd like to practice, I surprisingly hear a high-pitched squeal from somewhere to my left. Sam and I cast a glance in that general direction when I recognize Ingrid's petite, inebriated form stumbling toward us before we're simultaneously embraced in a rough hug. We stumble back a few steps from the force of the dead weight practically hanging off us, leaning heavily on us. With her dark red hair pinned up in a braided crown, her big brown eyes tastefully accentuated by eyeliner, and her white cashmere sweater dress, she looks like a modern Greek goddess.

"Ohhh my Gawd, I am soooo happy to see you guys," Ingrid says, slurring her words almost incomprehensibly. Smiling at the sweet drunk girl, we exchange a few pleasantries before she makes her way to the bar cart in the corner, where she says, "Pick yeeer poison, ladies. What's mine is su casa."

It's easy to conceal my chuckle under the booming music and boisterous conversations as we wordlessly take in all our options. Sam opts for a canned mojito as I reach for the canned spicy margarita.

If it has jalapenos, I'm in.

Cracking the cold beverage, Sam and I look at each other as she mischievously says, "Bottoms up, bitch," just before we clink out cans together. Taking a long, hard swig, I savor the cold and fizzling burn of the tequila and lime medley slipping down my throat.

"Ohh myyy Gawwdd, did I tell you guys yet how happy I am yeerr both hereeee? " Ingrid's face suddenly grows serious as she beckons us to lean in with a floppy flick of her wrist. Whispering too loudly to actually warrant us leaning in, she says, "Have you seen those articles about yer cute asssss? It's disgusting but, liiiiike also soooo flattering, ya know?" Faltering a little over the pronunciation of 'disgusting', she continues to lament about how shitty it is as I tune out and let the wave of cold numbness relax my features into impassiveness.

Sam, occasionally supplementing with intended conversation changes, darts increasingly nervous glances my way as we keep discussing the photo. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I stare at the wall behind Ingrid's head and throw my drink back, finishing it in 3 burning gulps.