“my boyfriend wants to show you his books, and you better say they’re cool,” you demanded while glaring at the camera. an amused jason could be seen in the back as you made way for him to take center stage. “go, babe.”
“hi,” your boyfriend awkwardly greeted before showing off the two paperback books in his hands. “so this one is ‘frankenstein’ by mary shelley. i know we all dreaded reading it in high school, but i really relate to frankenstein’s monster, and the story’s pretty good if you just give it a chance. plus, it’s a pioneer for the science-fiction genre, so that’s cool.”
you could be seen behind jason making threatening gestures with your hands, almost as if to say, ‘leave a nice comment, or you’re getting blocked!’
“and this one is ‘pride and prejudice’ by jane austen. another oldie but a classic,” jason said with a nonchalant shrug. “the writing’s beautiful, and i love elizabeth’s character because she reminds me of a certain someone. probably one of my favourite books of all time and just a really good comfort read.”
he turned to see your face quickly morph into heart-eyes and a sweet smile.
“good job, honey. that was a great presentation,” you praised before giving his cheek a loving kiss.
“oh, and i’m also part of a book club. we meet at the community center in the bowery every thursday evening. new members are always welcome,” jason off-handedly added.
“and new members are always welcome,” you sharply reiterated, glancing at the camera with a scary scowl and furrowed brows. “see you thursdays.”
gothambaddiexoxo commented: this man was written by a woman lol
singleasapringle commented: girl, where can i get myself a boyfriend like this 😭
birdzofprey0 commented: sooo does everyone in this book club look like him or?? asking for a friend
inspired by this video here. REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated
If there's anyone who wants the idea or quest for young Nolan or mark grayson ( specific Viltrumite Mark or any marks you see fit) I have one for you. 🤭 you can change or do what you want with this request, especially the ending. ( but I low-key like the thought of her taking him to her universe so you can use that.) ( also, I just added this but y'all can make this yandere too?
Stronger! Kryptonian! Reader x young! nolan grayson
Stronger! Kryptonian! Reader x mark grayson
I want reader who from another dimension (the DC universe) ends up in Invincible verse. While she starts searching for a way home, She starts off as enemies at first with the Viltrumites, seeing them as just blood thirsty brutes that are in her way of getting home since they have a special material that she needs in order to create a device so she can send herself home.
while they view her as a threat / a worthy conquest so many of them approach her to fight to prove themselves. Despite repeated fights, she easily defeats those she meet but spares their lives usually, unintentionally earning their respect in a weird way and a reputation for her strength and other abilities.
Enter young! Nolan / mark and Other Viltrumite, who are eventually sent to defeat / recruit her but is quickly overpowered. Humiliated yet intrigued, he returns for multiple rematches while still trying to recruit her, and she sees it as some kind of light training for herself. over time their rivalry softens into a strange bond. As they grow closer, Nolan / Mark begins to fall for her and awkwardly tries to ( Viltrumite Style ) court her by prove his strength to her.
( she's oblivious because she doesn't know much about Viltrumite culture) When he learns what she been looking for, Nolan / Mark ultimately retrieves it for her as a sort of a weird courting gift but is reluctant to give it to her after finding out what she needs it for since he doesn't want her to leave him. At least just yet anyway.
Summary: On a night out with the Titans, you find out against your will that you aren't the only one that's familiar with your boyfriend's embrace.
Pairing: Roy Harper/F!reader
Tags and warnings: alcohol use, swearing, angst -> comfort, reader is said to be slightly older than Roy but not by much, sexual references but nothing overtly NSFW, Donna and Kori are a lil shitty/insensitive in this (i love u divas im sorry its for the plot)
Author’s Note: This is the runner up from my angst -> comfort poll! I have been working on this one for a couple of weeks and I am still not sure I am 100% stoked with the ending, but I must release this baby into the wild and free her. I had fun with some SMAU text elements in here hehehe
Word Count: 7.8K
You honestly couldn’t tell what stung more - the bare skin of your arms from the wind chill, the corners of your eyes from holding in your tears, or the vice grip clenched around your heart. Your eyes were bleary, smudging the rays emanating from the lampposts in the dark street, half from watery lids and half from the booze. You had felt stupid going into the bar, but you felt even stupider walking out.
Roy was so convincing, his voice that low, sultry yet saccharine rumble that stripped you of all defenses - and more often than not, your clothes too. Whispering in your ear how fun the night would be, no babe they are gonna love you, it’s just a casual hang.
He had plenty of persuasive practice: after all, it had taken him a couple of weeks to sway you to go out with him in the first place. You were older, not by too much, but still, it frayed your ego a bit. Roy still had that boyish look on his face when he smirked, eyes not yet worn with crow’s feet. He was extroverted, energized and popular. You had a timidness that lurked behind your stare and liked to be in bed by 10pm. When he had asked you out initially, you assumed he was shooting his shot at anything with a pulse and a pair of tits. But as you came to understand only too well, once Red Arrow set his sights on a target, he wasn’t going to miss. So you relented, and under his playful exterior, you discovered a sincere, soft-hearted core that you had grown to love over the last year you had been together.
Which is why you finally agreed to go to the bar with him in the first place. The Titans, previously Teen, were having a reunion hang. Roy had insisted you accompany him, sweet-talking you for at least a week about his desire to show off his smokin’ hot girl.
“What am I gonna do without my arm candy?” He had teased, pinching your side before sidling up to you to speak more sincerely. “Like I said, princess, I’ve known these fuckers for way too long. They’re going to love you. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. So let me show off my pretty girl, hm?”
So you believed him, and despite the anxiety brewing in your abdomen, you agreed to go. Spent way too long choosing the pieces of your outfit, something that screamed ‘casual’ and ‘too cool’ even though it was selected with extreme scrutiny. Dolled yourself up to look effortless, even though you fretted over every detail. Roy looked annoyingly mouthwatering as always in his torn up jeans and holey shirt, which were almost certainly pulled from the dirty laundry pile. You knew he dug your look too. After all, he told you so about a dozen times and the two of you barely made it out of your apartment, despite his best efforts to trap you in the bedroom.
As you strode into the bar, a fashionable fifteen minutes late, you picked incessantly at your cuticles, but Roy’s broad hand splayed out on your lower back in reassurance. Even in the dank atmosphere, at once, Roy spotted one of his colleagues and used the comforting pressure of his palm to steer you towards the table.
A young woman - certainly younger than you - sat by herself at the large booth, throwing up an easy wave as she recognized the two of you. Well, Roy at least.
As you approached the table, you really started to drink her in. Gorgeous, silky jet black hair that you swore was shimmering, even in the shitty bar lighting. She could be the poster girl for a Pantene commercial. As she stood to shake your hand across the table, you thought ‘shit, she could be a Victoria’s Secret model.’ A tall, tight figure like she had been sculpted, chiseled straight from marble. Her plush lips spread in a sincere, breathtaking smile that pulled her sharp cheekbones to her temples when Roy ushered you into the booth.
“You must be Y/N!” She said, her voice bright like a windchime. “Roy has told us so much about you. I am so excited to finally meet you!”
At this, Roy’s hand squeezed around the curve of your waist and you smiled, letting out a sheepish, unknowingly held breath as you cast your gaze to your folded hands. Recognizing your shyness, Roy spoke first, throwing a sweet smile your way.
“The very same. This is Donna, uh Diana’s counterpart.” He said his voice dropping quieter, not wanting to reveal her secret identity to the bar eavesdroppers. Although, Roy had said that they had picked this place because the owners were particularly discreet.
“It’s really nice to meet you.” You said, bashfully.
Roy had told you about Donna before, an integral participant in many of his lighthearted Titan stories that he had regaled you with. Once, he briefly mentioned that the two of them had dated, a fleeting detail that had stuck in your mind. You had figured she was beautiful. Duh. She was Themysciran - an Amazon. But seeing her live and animated in front of you pulled that detail back to the forefront of your mind as she regarded you with a captivating smile.
At the subtle but noticed pause, Roy cleared his throat to speak again.
“Drinks?” He suggested to the table, his head on a swivel between you and Donna. He placed a warm hand on the bend of your knee.
“Yes please!” Donna agreed with an exclamation, rising from her seat.
Roy leaned in to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek. His presence firm, but reassuring, almost like his body was whispering: “I’m here.”
“I know what you like.” He said with a wink. “Let me buy you a drink, hot stuff.”
The compliment in his smooth, flirtatious tone broke a chuckle out of you, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward as you watched the two of them angle towards the bartender. The worst part was there was nothing suggestive about it. They kept a friendly distance, chatting with each other in line like old friends - which they were, you reminded yourself. But seeing Donna, an absolute vision and more importantly Roy’s ex, joke with him so easily stoked the insecure flame inside of you.
Drinks were a great idea. Once they had returned to the table, you took a healthy sip, feeling the slight burn of the alcohol spread throughout your stomach. You listened to them chat about their respective mentors as you took generous swallows, feeling yourself gradually let go of your anxiety like loosening your grip on a weighted balloon.
Shortly after, you heard the jingle of the bells tied to the bar handle. You were on the tail end of a giggle when you saw Donna’s eyes light up, trained on the entrance. You craned your head to see the rest of the gang meander through.
At the forefront, a lean yet built figure, onyx hair in a tousled mop. As you followed the strands dangling over his forehead, you were met with alluring blue eyes. They were so pretty that it was nearly excruciating to hold his gaze. You averted your eyes almost instantly.
Dick Grayson, surely. Roy craned his head around with a jovial scoff, muttering an incomprehensible insult under his breath.
Dick’s arm was wrapped around a brilliantly tall woman, taller than Donna even, with amber skin and voluminous auburn curls that cascaded down to her ankles. The glow of her neon green eyes brightened at the sight of her former colleagues. Your eyes widened slightly at her appearance. She was truly breathtaking, and not just from her exotic otherworldliness.
As Dick and presumably Starfire, or Koriand’r, queued up to the bar, their figures parted way to reveal the remainder of the gang bringing up the caboose. Another boy, his posture slightly bent forward in timidness, violet eyes scanning the hazy room. Surely the Atlantean prince, formerly known as Aqualad: Garth. From what Roy had told you, you thought that you and Garth would get along quite well, affirmed further by the reserved smile that he cast you upon noticing your presence. And last but certainly not least, the other ginger, who was in the middle of talking Garth’s ear off before he recognized Roy and charged over with enthusiasm printed all over his freckled face.
“The party’s here!” Wally announced, holding two thumbs to his chest. “How’s it goin’, Speedy? I assume this beautiful thing sitting next to you is your new lady.”
Your nose wrinkled slightly at the word ‘new’, but you hadn’t time to dwell on it as Wally leaned over the back of the booth to plant a sloppy wet kiss on your cheek. While you were slightly stunned at his audacity, you watched Roy give him a forceful shove to the chest.
“Did you wanna announce our identities to the whole neighborhood?” He growled without much heat behind his words, a smile threatening to break through his lips. “And yes, this is my girl. Which means paws off.”
Wally rubbed his torso where Roy’s palm had struck him, laughing openly and loudly with a contagious mirth. He was still chuckling as he turned around to join the rest of the gang in line at the bar. Donna returned your wide-eyed expression with a genuine smile. The combination of surprise and booze brought a flushed heat to your face. Roy brushed a stray hair from your face, giving your cheek a gentle but reverent pinch as his friends eventually slid into the booth across from you.
The group of you talked and drank and talked and drank. Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be! As the liquor kept flowing, you found yourself laughing openly at the stories passed between vigilantes, liquid courage building enough to fit in a quip or two in appropriate moments which pulled a laugh from the crowd. At one point, Dick nearly spit out his drink at a snarky comment that you had made, which put you on cloud nine for the next fifteen minutes.
As the night drew on, the boys naturally gravitated towards the games. Wally was trying and miserably failing to show off pool trick shots to Garth, while Dick had challenged Roy to a game of darts, some comment about having better aim igniting Roy’s competitive streak. He left your side with a squeeze to your shoulder and kiss on the side of your neck, promising he’d be back as soon as he kicked Dick’s ass.
You were more than content to chat with the girls. At this point in the evening, Donna felt like an old friend and Kori was frankly impossible not to like. They made you feel included, like you weren’t just Roy’s plus one but part of the company. Which is why when Kori suggested tequila shots, your defenses were lowered enough to agree despite your usual better judgement.
Your eyes were fixed on the short curls by Kori’s temple which bounced merrily as she threw the shot back, looking unfairly gorgeous even as she was sputtering from the acrid well drink. Donna let out a loud bark of laughter at Kori’s reaction.
“Aw come on, Star,” she wheezed in between chuckles. “That was a baby shot. We’ve gotta get you drunk enough that you’re locking lips with the barkeep to ‘learn his language.’”
“That was one time.” Kori muttered, her green eyes narrowed in annoyance that was betrayed by a slight smile on her lips.
Regardless, Donna held up her hand, bangles around her wrist jingling joyfully, to order another round. As three more shots were poured, you cast a glance over to the other side of the room. There, you caught sight of your man. His face was reddened from libation as he bickered playfully with the other guys, twirling a pool cue in his grip. As if he could sense your eyes upon him, his gaze shifted to meet yours and he threw you a wink, which made you giggle like a schoolgirl, before returning to his conversation.
The second shot went down easier than the first, but you felt the effects immediately. You had wandered from a pleasant buzz into drunk territory, but as you pivoted between your new friends, you couldn’t help but feel excited to be hanging out with a new group of gals. Roy was right - this evening was a good idea. Not that you’d ever let him know. You’d never live that down.
Looking between Donna and Kori, you were slightly relieved that you weren’t the only one affected by the alcohol. Kori swayed with a slight rhythm, her long fingers playing with the edge of the coaster. Donna’s face had gone loose along with her inhibitions.
“Goddds, do you remember when the guys broke the front window of Titans Tower?” Donna asked Kori, a slight slur to her tone.
Starfire threw her head backwards, lips pulled into a huge smile as she laughed boisterously. The sound was borderline magical.
“And then the flying disc was no longer allowed!” Kori finished the story off, still giggling. “So they played with that small little bag of sand.”
A grin was plastered on your face, not only at Kori’s adorable vernacular, but thinking about the group of men in the corner of the bar as young boys caught red-handed with a broken window. You tried to imagine Batman, arms crossed, holding a frisbee and banning its presence from the house.
“Ugh, Roy and that stupid hackeysack.” Donna said, slapping her palm to her forehead. “He was obsessed with that stupid thing. Every time he slept over in my room, he brought it with him.”
As your brain slowly processed the words, you felt your smile falter, just a bit. But you pushed the feeling to the back of your mind, determined to continue getting along with your new friends. They had dated, you knew this. No big deal.
“Yes!” Kori agreed, with glee. “I was always fighting the sack for his attention. Even laying unclothed in bed, he was focused on that toy instead of me!”
At this, the discomfort returned, its presence front and center of your mind. An unwelcome fourth member at the table. You felt your eyebrows furrow, before making a conscious yet assuredly obvious effort to fix your face to as neutral as possible.
“You and Roy were like… a thing?” You asked, with as much nonchalance as you could muster. Thankfully, your words were falling on drunk ears.
“Oh yes.” Kori said, with a dramatic yet fond eye roll. “After I rescued him from a jail cell in Qurac.”
You felt the anxiety creeping back into your gut. Roy had mentioned his past relationship with Donna, but never told you that he had dated Kori. A Tamaranean princess. Literal royalty sitting in front of you. Your eyes darted to the corner of the bar but all you saw were the back of the guys’ heads as they argued over… something. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned that to you?
“Ugh, did Roy ever do that thing where he’d rub your shoulders after a mission?” Donna asked, eyebrows pulled up her forehead.
Suddenly you felt very outside of the circle that you had assured yourself you had joined. Your incisors sank into your bottom lip.
“Just to get you into bed?” Kori finished her thought, yet again.
Donna laughed, clapping her hands in agreement. You bit down harder, tasting the metallic aftermath of blood.
“Some shoulder rub. ‘Babe, you must be so tired, let me help’ for a thirty second massage that felt more like an attaboy.” Donna finished, laughter interrupting her sentences.
Your mind reeled through the Rolodex of moments that you shared with your archer, desperately searching to see if you could remember a time that he had massaged your shoulders. But honestly, you couldn’t remember let alone concentrate on anything other than the thought that everyone sitting at your table had slept with your boyfriend. It felt shameful, embarrassing. And it was choking you out.
“I wonder if he ever pulled that move on Jade.” Kori pondered outwardly which sent Donna into another fit of giggles.
“Hard to imagine Cheshire falling for that, but Lian had to get here somehow.” Donna replied which spurred Kori on further.
You felt invisible, which honestly you would have preferred if you didn't feel the heat boiling underneath the skin of your face. You took it back: this was a terrible idea. You never should have come here in the first place.
“God, what a slut.” Donna teased, making an uncoordinated grab for her drink.
As Kori laughed harder, you tried to muster a giggle for camouflage but felt only acid rising in the back of your throat. Suddenly, the room was too hot, the clothing you had chosen too constricting. You needed air, sooner rather than later, but mostly you needed out.
“And who knows what he’s been doing with Jason on those long weekend missions...” Kori replied with a mischievous tone, waggling an eyebrow.
Donna broke into a chorus of snickers and you planted both palms on the table, hoisting yourself to a standing position. Kori and Donna reacted in mild surprise at your sudden movements, but their response was mollified by their intoxication. You brushed your hands off on your shirt, nearly tipping over a full glass of water as you reached for your purse.
“Sorry, uh, I forgot,” you said, swallowing in the middle of your sentence. When did the air get so damn thick in here? “I have something I need to take care of. Urgently. For work. I’m, uh, gonna head out. It was nice to meet you guys.”
You started shuffling out of the booth, urging your boneless legs to coordinate and get you the hell out of here as quickly as possible. Kori gave a small pout, her expression drooping at the announcement of your sudden departure. Donna swallowed the remainder of the liquid in her glass, throwing her hands up in opposition.
“Wait! Don’t go yet!” She exclaimed. “It’s so fun talking to you!”
You gave her an unconvincing shrug, more collapsing in on yourself in shame than anything.
“I know, I know,” you replied. “It was really nice getting to know you guys too. I just… I gotta go.”
You nearly sighed in relief as you freed yourself from behind the table. You fumbled with the string of your purse, reeling in the body of the bag like you were pulling up a crab pot until the clutch was finally in your hands. You plunged your fingers inwards, searching desperately for your wallet.
“Wait, aren’t you going home with Roy?” Kori asked, tilting her head.
You gave her a weak wave to brush her off, trying to channel a casual expression but your main focus was on not bursting into tears. Where was your damn wallet?
“I’ll send him a text on the way home. Don’t wanna bother him when he’s having fun with the boys.” You replied, billfold finally within the grip of your fingertips. “It was really nice to meet you guys. Have a great night.”
Your legs took you automatically to the counter, handing your credit card over in mindless motions. You would have forgotten it at the bar if it weren’t for the bartender that reminded you to pick it up from the tacky table top before you left.
Your impulse forced one last look over your shoulder, where you spotted Roy, laughing, his head thrown back. He looked so natural in this environment, surrounded by his friends and the people who knew the life he lived and loved him for it. It made your heart clench in all the wrong ways, and against your will, you memorized the scene before stumbling through the front door.
The heels of your shoes clicked uncomfortably on the city sidewalk, and you strode, head down, watching your uncoordinated steps pass the seams of the cement. And honestly, you couldn’t care less.
You couldn’t care less that it was dangerous, that it was stupid. You couldn’t care less that you were isolated and alone, walking in the pitch black margins between street lamps. Your poor mind couldn’t even coordinate what it was so upset about, so torn up for. So you just kept walking, each foot ahead of the other but crooked, unintentionally throwing your weight from side to side.
You wanted to cry, but you wanted to puke, but mostly you just wanted to be home in your bed. You thought about calling a cab, but the sting of the night’s air was the most perfect punishment for the fucked up night you had endured so you trodded further. One uncoordinated footstep in front of the other. God. You wished you had a cigarette.
In the bar, Roy felt the laughter ripping out of him effortlessly, bubbling right over his built up walls and aged defenses like no time had passed since he was pre-pubescent. Wally was making him snort. He was picking meaningless fights for a laugh with Dick like old times. He felt like himself again. For the first time in, god, fucking forever.
And the best part? He didn’t feel fractionated anymore. No - he was whole. His girl was there. His person, the most perfect woman he had ever laid eyes on, who knew and understood and incredulously, loved his faults. He felt similarly disarmed when he first met you: the walls eroding and self-preservation coming down whether he liked it or not, no liquor required. You had that effect on him, like nobody he had ever met.
In the high of his exuberance, with his cheeks flushed with booze and mirth, his body loose with inebriation and comfort of old friends, Roy tossed his head over his shoulder to gaze at you in your brilliance - drunken not with alcohol necessarily but the high of a good time and the itch to keep it afloat - looking for his girl. His sweetheart, his everything.
So when his eyes finally focused to find Kori and Donna sitting alone, a wave of sobriety shimmered upon him. His vigilance returning, unwelcome, shocking him into a tipsy, disorientated surveillance of the dive bar. He couldn’t interpret a lot of what he was making out but most importantly, none of it was you. So, he stopped in the middle of his sentence to Garth, Wally, and Dick, marching over to the table with newfound sobriety.
“Where’s Y/N?” He asked, essentially demanded. Any slur to his words was gone, and he was speaking with distinct clarity. Almost interrogative.
Kori flashed a look of shock, normally interwoven with her heart-on-her sleeve emotions but displayed openly with her inebriation. Donna started a bit at his presence, but sunk into a glumness that perplexed him.
“She said she was heading home, work project.” Donna explained. “I thought she texted you.”
At this, his hand snapped for his phone nestled within his back jeans pocket at record speed but found no notifications. His heart sunk a little further.
“So you’re telling me she just went home?” Roy asked, tampering down his temper as best as he could manage. “By herself? Alone?”
As he looked into Donna and Kori’s eyes, he saw the reflection of guilt, of knowing that they shouldn’t have let her go, but what were they going to do to stop her? As he gazed upon their wordlessness, he knew they were telling the truth and his beloved had set off into the night, alone.
Roy pulled the bill of his backwards cap lower toward the nape of his neck as he strode forward, knocking through the front door of the bar without even hearing the exclamation of the barkeep for his unpaid tab. As he burst through the entrance, he surveilled again, seeing no glimpse of his lover in the misty city night. Pivoting towards your apartment, he set out at a quickened pace.
Meanwhile, you walked, treading water through your thoughts and finding it harder and harder to keep the tears from breaking over the rim of your eyelashes. You had been walking for some time, so your apartment could only be a couple of blocks away. You sniffled loudly, nose running from the crispness of the night and tears leaking out, pulling your purse closer as you trod on.
A set of rapid footsteps, slapping against the pavement in rapid succession, broke you from your thoughts, causing you to freeze. You swung your head around to identify the source but only succeeded in making yourself dizzy. The footsteps grew louder, and you realized with dread in your stomach that they were coming up from behind you. Great. Now you were going to have gone and gotten yourself ambushed in the dark street in the middle of the night.
Though you had anticipated it, feeling the grasp of two hands on your shoulders still made you yelp out into the road. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping they would kill you quickly and get it over with, but as your body was turned around, unscathed, you cracked an eyelid to get a glimpse of your assailant. You realized with some shock that it was the slightly breathless form of your boyfriend that had captured you.
“Hey!” Roy said, panting slightly. “Where the hell are you going?”
You could tell that he was upset and trying to conceal it, but shit, that made both of you. You pulled your shoulder out of his grip, turning back to continue walking, which only made his eyebrows furrow deeper.
“Home.” You replied. You hadn’t snapped but weren’t particularly chipper either.
“Yeah, I can see that.” He said, quickly catching up to walk beside you. “Drunk, by yourself, at half past midnight with no coat on.”
You didn’t reply to him, simply crossing your arms over your chest to guard the chilled skin of your arms. He let out a scoff, a clearly irritated noise at your lack of response, shaking his head slightly. Before you could continue your journey, he stepped in front of you, blocking your path.
“Y/N.” He said, the ire evident in his tone which had lost all amusement. He tried to soften as much as he could. “What’s wrong, baby? Did something happen? Why did you leave the bar without telling me?”
It was your turn to make a snort of agitation. You attempted to brush past him, but the spread of his muscular arms caught you, placing you back in front of him. In the interrogation spotlight. You felt your face get hot, and couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment, anger, liquor, or something else.
“I’m just going home, Roy.” You repeated, refusing to meet his gaze.
“If you would have told me you wanted to go home, we would have left in an instant.” He retorted. “That’s no problem. What you can’t do is walk home in the dark, drunk, by yourself.”
He shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders, tossing it around your form, but you shoved the gesture off. Childish? Maybe. But you couldn’t stand to be enveloped in his scent right now. Not while you were thinking about that same smell soaked into the bed sheets of half of the damn bar. He clenched his teeth at your reaction, exhaling building rage though his nostrils. His hands found your shoulders again, and he gripped, hard. Not to where it hurt or would leave bruises, but enough that he commanded your attention.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” He demanded. “What happened that’s got you all wound up like this?”
You tried to squirm from his grasp but he was too damn strong. The expended effort made you seethe harder. You shoved him with all of your weight in angst, but he barely moved an inch.
“Don’t worry about it.” You snarled.
You should have left it at that, but the tequila was still dancing on your tongue, encouraging regret and instigation. “You can go ahead and go back to your other girlfriends.”
The quiet fury on Roy’s face vanished into confusion. He cocked his neck in perplexity, and you dared to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze. The glow of the yellow sodium lights illuminated his blonde lashes and the sprinkle of freckles over his forehead and across the bridge of his strong nose. He always had a way of looking unfairly gorgeous, which at this moment, just further pissed you off.
“What are you talking about?” He asked, with genuine bewilderment. His fingers still held you outstretched in front of him.
You growled out a small, petulant noise of frustration, squeezing your eyes shut to ignore his pretty face. In peak juvenile behavior, you bit your lip and refused to answer him. He shook you in his grip ever so slightly.
“Y/N. We’re not going home unless you talk to me.” He insisted. “What do you mean ‘my other girlfriends’?”
“Donna and Kori.” You snapped back with vitriol. “Throw Jade in there too. And whatever the hell you’re doing with Jason.”
Roy scoffed in disbelief, staring at your face scrunched in indignance.
“I haven’t gone out with Donna or Kori since I was a teenager.” He clarified. “And I don’t want anything to do with Jason, trust me.”
“You never told me that you went out with Kori at all.” You shot back. If your gaze could burn through him, he would have been smoking.
“I didn’t even think about it.” He said. His voice was pitched high in disbelief. “We went out for what? A couple of months when I was fifteen? I didn’t think it was that big of a deal!”
“Well it is.” You said, finally wrenching yourself from his grip. You pulled your purse tighter over your shoulder and started off towards your apartment again. “I couldn’t sit at ‘Roy Harper’s Quick Fuck’ table anymore as the newest notch on your bedpost.”
“Baby, please.” Roy pleaded, his footsteps trailing you once again. “I would never purposefully hide anything from you like that. And that’s not what this is - not what you are. Let’s talk about it. We can talk about all of my exes in excruciating detail. Whatever you want. Just please don’t go.”
After what seemed like hours of restraint, the dam amongst your eyelashes finally broke and tears dribbled freely down your cheeks, your bottom lip wobbling like you were a toddler scolded. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, knowing that the desperate look on his face would just stoke the angry, sad, guilty fire within your chest.
“I just want to go home, Roy.” You replied, voice broken and thick with saliva.
You finished the last leg of your tortuous voyage audibly crying in the evening air. As you plodded on, you still heard Roy’s footsteps following from several yards behind you, ensuring that you made it to your front door. He didn’t push further, didn’t try to convince you to stay, just watched you with a shattered expression until you were on your welcome mat. Digging through your bag, vision totally clouded over with tears, you finally found your key ring and let yourself in.
The sound of the front door closing behind you felt to Roy like the lid of his coffin closing upon him.
The morning sunlight beamed through your open curtains, sending a bolt of pain right to your temples. Squinting, you propped yourself up on one elbow. Looking down at yourself, you saw you were still in the clothes you went out in last night. Casting a glance to your full-length mirror, you saw mascara trails tracked in parallel down the sides of your face. You couldn’t remember falling asleep last night, but you must have passed out after sobbing eventually.
Closing your eyelids to guard from the electric rays of the sun, you palmed the bed sheets for your phone. Fingers wrapping around the brick, you pulled it to your face and clicked it on. 11% battery - Low Power Warning. Six missed text messages and a phone call from Roy.
You let your head hang like dead weight behind you. The tsunami of terrible emotions churned in your gut.
Were you making too big of a deal out of this? At this point, you weren’t sure. You knew that it still bothered you that Roy had so many supermodel-esque lovers that you didn’t know about, and certainly didn’t make you feel any better about yourself. That being said, you couldn’t help but feel you may have slightly overreacted, spurred on by insecurity and tequila. The line of where your feelings were justified and you were making mountains out of molehills was a lot blurrier than you thought, even without a drink in your system.
Hugging your knees to your chest, you curled inward on yourself. Your head throbbed with your pulse and stomach swirled from lack of calories and last night’s poor choices. More than anything, you just wanted to run away. Especially from yourself.
The next couple of days were no less excruciating. Back at work, you found yourself unable to focus, a smog of bad vibes smothering your mind from useful thought. You still couldn’t tease out your feelings even after days of ruminating on them. Roy’s texts still remained unanswered. Each night as you dragged yourself back to your apartment, you spent the night rolled up on the couch, trouble in your head and heart.
The week following the night at the bar tortured Roy. He kept playing the night over and over in his head, wondering how things could have gone from so good to so fucked in an instant. He should have stayed by your side, he reprimanded himself. Not gotten swept up in Dick’s trash talk like they were boys again. Every couple of hours, he opened his messages app to see the read receipts burning back at him. Every so often, he typed another couple of messages out before pressing his thumb against the backspace to delete them.
Even worse: Lian noticed it, too.
“Why are you sad, daddy?” Her little voice chimed from her car seat in the back of his truck.
Gazing at her in the rear view mirror, he saw her concerned expression before gazing into his own sleep-deprived eyes. He quickly focused them on the road.
“I’m alright, trouble.” He said, not convincing himself nor his young daughter with his tone.
She didn’t push the issue, but Roy could see her furrowed eyebrows in his peripheral vision as she stared at the side of his face. It made the guilt gnaw at his core even further.
Later that night, Roy braced his hands against the bathroom counter, looking at his own worn expression. He hadn’t really slept since that night, certainly not well. His stubble was grown out, his hair was greasy, there were puffy bags under his eyes. Frankly, he looked like shit.
With an audible sigh, he stepped back out into the hallway. The door to Lian’s room was cracked, just as he left it after settling her into bed a half an hour ago. With his wide palm against the wood of the door, he pushed it open just slightly so that he could glance into the room.
He was startled seeing Lian’s big brown eyes staring back at him in the glow of her princess nightlight. The comforter was tucked up to her nose, with her little hands clutching at its edge. She peered out into the dimness, with wide eyes trained on her father. Roy sighed once more, pushing open the door all the way so that he could step into the room and take a seat along the side of her bed.
He brushed his thumb over her forehead, moving stray hairs out of her face. She blinked at him, her long dark eyelashes sweeping her cheeks.
“Can’t sleep?” He said, his voice soft.
She shook her head in return, still tucked underneath the blankets. Roy stroked her head again.
“Me neither.” He said, with a slight frown.
Lian watched her father, and Roy knew that her observant little eyes had been drinking in his exhaustion all week. Watching him tear himself up on the inside. It was stressing her out.
He pulled the corner of his lips up into a soft smile.
“Wanna go see grandpa?” He asked.
At this, she lit up, nodding her head furiously. Roy chuckled at her enthusiasm, the first real moment of joy that he had experienced in a week.
“Okay, trouble.” He replied. “Let’s go pack your backpack.”
As the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, Oliver scrubbed his thumb over the back of his wife’s knuckles. With a tender squeeze, he brought the skin to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss just below her wedding ring that caused Dinah to sigh. Two chilled, crystal glasses of fine white wine adorned the table between them, forgotten by the lovers enjoying each other’s company in the evening. A mahogany and teak candle flickered, filling the air with a musky, delectable aroma. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, the bright beam of twin headlights bore through the living room blinds.
Throwing his wife a skeptical look, Oliver Queen rose from the table. He hadn’t expected anyone pulling up into the driveway of Queen Mansion this late at night. As he heard the sound of footsteps approach his stoop, his hand circled around the upper limb of his bow which was tucked behind the doorway for cases such as this. Dinah watched her husband press his face to the peephole, waiting with bated breath for his reaction.
When he pulled away with a confused, yet somehow delighted smirk, she felt her shoulders drop. His hand released its hold on the bow. Oliver opened the oak door.
“Well, well, well,” he said, smugly. “Looks like two lost missionaries have shown up on our doorstep. The sign says ‘no solicitors’, you know.”
Roy stepped through the threshold, his daughter - still clad in her footie pajamas - nestled on his hip with her kitty backpack around her shoulders. He gave a half-hearted exhale through his nose at Oliver’s quip, tossing him an unimpressed look.
“Mimi!!” Lian shouted at the sight of Dinah seated at the table.
“My precious grandbaby!” Dinah replied with similar vigor.
Roy set her down and watched Dinah crouch to receive the excited toddler as she raced across the floor. She swept Lian into her arms, squeezing her tightly as her granddaughter wrapped her arms around her neck.
“Weren’t expecting you.” Oliver said, his voice low enough that only Roy could hear.
He drank in the sight of his son, who looked absolutely weathered, with a gentle yet obviously concerned smile. Roy brushed a palm over the back of his neck, kicking off his sneakers in the entryway. Noticing the lit candle and glasses of wine on the table, Roy wrinkled his nose.
“Gross.” He muttered.
Oliver smirked, throwing an arm over Roy’s shoulder, which Roy fought less than usual. Another diagnostic sign that something was awry.
“I need a favor.” Roy admitted.
He spoke with his father figure in tones hushed to keep the conversation between them. In the background, Dinah pressed kisses to Lian’s face, the child shrieking with delight.
“I’m sure Dinah and I can watch Lian for the next couple of days.” Oliver replied.
“No, no,” Roy brushed him off. Oliver’s eyebrows raised. “It’s not that.”
“Well, whatever you need, son.” Oliver said, earnestly.
Roy shuffled uncomfortably in the entryway. His eyes scrubbed across the landscape of the mansion, a place that he had avoided as much as possible. Yet here he was, crawling back with desperation. His eyes fell upon the photographs on the wall, pictures of Ollie and Dinah from when they first dated, a couple of him and Roy when Roy was just a kid.
“I know you’ve always been sentimental.” Roy said. “I’m gonna need one of your keepsakes.”
It was Sunday morning, and the Sunday scaries had already set in fiercely. All weekend you had picked up your phone to say something - to reply - but words failed you and you put it right back down again. It felt almost like a compulsion.
You resigned yourself to your worn spot on the couch, warm cup of coffee in your hands, leaning into the cushion as you stared out the window. After everything was going so well, you couldn’t help but feel that you screwed it all up. You had been caught in a self-hatred vortex since last week.
A gentle but firm knock on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You frowned to yourself, setting the coffee down on your living room table. You took your time to rise to your feet, walking over to the door before opening it gently.
On the other side of the threshold, Roy stood with his hands in his pockets. The first thing you noticed was how worn he looked, which sent a pang of concern through your heart.
“Hey.” He said, his voice husky from lack of use.
“Hey.” You replied.
Roy shuffled his feet.
“I just wanted to talk.” He said.
You leaned against the door frame, giving him a subtle nod. Roy sighed, casting his gaze sideways.
“I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He said. “You didn’t really want to go, and I talked you into it. And I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I wish we didn’t go.”
You bit down on your lip, a part of you wanting to tell him otherwise. That in a way, you were sort of glad that you had gone, even if it ended in disaster. You got to meet his childhood friends, watch him interact so comfortably with the others. There was a part of that that was so special. But you refrained from replying, wanting to see where he was going with this.
“When I was a part of the Titans, I dated Donna, and I dated Kori for a bit, too.” He admitted. “And it was fine or whatever. We were just kids. They were pretty girls. That’s all it was. I wasn’t trying to conceal that from you. It just… didn’t mean anything to me.”
“Then, there was Jade. She gave up on me, but worse, she gave up on Lian. That, I could never forgive.”
He cleared his throat. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he revealed a piece of wrinkled paper in his palm. It caught your attention as he worked it over in his hands, nervous.
“When I met you, it was like nothing I had ever felt before. With anybody. I mean, you’re a pretty girl, obviously.” He let that boyish smirk cross his face for a moment before gathering himself. “But it was different. Deeper than that. You consumed my every waking moment - still do. You… disarm me.”
He let out a deep sigh.
“I understand why you’re upset with me. I’d be upset with me, too.” He admitted. “But if it would ease your mind even in the slightest, I would sit down and tell you every girl I’ve ever dated in chronological order. Hell, babe, I would tell you the edition of every porn mag I ever cranked one out to if it was any reassurance. Because not a single one of them holds a candle to you or how special you are to me, and I need you to know that.”
At this, you wrinkled your nose. Roy always did have a way with words. It was sweet. Gross, but sweet.
He held out the paper he had been guarding and you received it eagerly. As he leaned in to give you his peace offering, he placed a precious kiss to the apple of your cheek. You allowed yourself to lean into his warmth, for just a moment, and boy had you missed it.
“This is my proof.” He finished, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “I love you, baby. You are my end game. If you want to meet to talk… let me know.”
He threw you a sheepish look, with the smallest smile, before turning around and heading down your apartment sidewalk. You watched him climb into his truck before starting it up and backing out of the parking lot.
Working the paper over in your hands, you trembled a bit before pulling it open. It was postmarked months ago, from when you and Roy had first started seeing each other.
After finishing the letter, your heart clenched involuntarily. Thoughts of the beginning of your courtship swarm through your head: how Roy would wear the same wrinkled button up every time he took you out, how he insisted on opening the passenger side door for you, feigning offense if you even touched the handle.
Seeing it written out here, in earnest, eviscerated the last remnants of concern and insecurity that you had held on to. Kori and Donna may have experienced his immature shoulder rubs, but you had him in the early daylight, his lips slack with sleep as he pulled you impossibly closer even while dreaming. You had his calloused hands rubbing your lower abdomen when you had period cramps. You had him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning with a pint of ice cream when you said that you couldn’t sleep because you were worrying about work. And you had him calling you his future wife in intimate scrawl in a letter to his father, just weeks after the start of your relationship.
You were envious to think that others had your man before you, but you had him now, in whole. In ways that nobody else had him before.
The next morning, as the sun barely crested above the landscape, you found your roles reversed as you rapped your knuckles against Roy’s door. It swung open tentatively, and you saw his green eyes widen as he recognized your form, scrambling to undo the chain lock so that he could take in your appearance fully. You gave him a shy smile.
“You were right.” You said, voice soft enough for the early hours.
He cocked his head once again, with a small shake to demonstrate his lack of understanding. You let the corners of your lips creep up towards your temples.
“This is what it’s like when you’re dating the one.” You confirmed.
You held out the letter. Roy took it in his hands, working it over cautiously as a smile wore itself into his face to match your own. His restraint exhausted, he released his grip on the door handle and threw himself around you. One hand wrapping around the back of your head to cradle you close, his face finding the bend of your neck. He took in your scent, the feel of your soft skin against the apex of his nose, his hands tracing your back.
At your reunion, all was right in your world again.
“I thought so.” He murmured, directly into your ear. “Thank you… my Mrs. Harper.”
Header image by: @twentytomidnight
Arsenal dividers by: andromeda-graphics
Texts made with: chat tales app
You do not have permission to copy, edit, or repost my original work.
tags. journalist reader, best friends in luv, unrequited requited, detective dick cause i love him, subtle angst
— blatant repost from my old acc, title from lybmha by laufey :((
“I can’t make it to dinner tonight.”
Dick scratches the underside of his jaw, wincing when his nails ghost over the tender spot where he nicked himself shaving days earlier. Your stress comes crackling through the telephone’s shitty speaker as a staticky, crushed-glass sigh.
“Bad day at the office?”
He contorts to hold the receiver between his ear and shoulder, ignoring the looks his coworkers send him. He supposes that he must be a sight to see, tipped back in his chair, case documents teetering on the knife’s edge of spilling out of a manila folder in one hand, the other twirling the cord of the landline around his finger.
“The worst,” you agree with another sigh. It must be the fifth time you’ve done that in the past minute, and if Dick closes his eyes tight enough, he can imagine you in front of him, dragging your hand down your face. “They want my column in print tomorrow—not Monday—and this fuck-ass editor is crossing out everything in my doc.”
You mutter something about what fucking loaded language and it’s a goddamn opinion piece while Dick shoves his case folder into the depths of some dark cabinet and starts clearing the mess of reports on his desk until he unearths the collection of takeout menus pinned under the keyboard of his computer.
If you can’t make it to dinner, Dick could just take dinner to you.
He weighs his options; you’re probably not in the mood for pizza or burgers, and Chinese gets crossed off because you don’t work well on an oily stomach. Vietnamese is out of question too, you had that last week; this leaves Mediterranean and Italian, both of which are too far a drive for him to even bother. The food would get cold before he’d manage to make it up to your apartment.
(His coworkers think it’s strange that he has dinner dates with his best friend every week. Just friends, they laugh, you’ll be saying that even after you’re married. Dick doesn’t think anything about it— you’ve never thought anything of the teasing, so he won’t either.)
“When’s the last time you got up and took a walk?” he questions, grabbing a pen and scribbling a quick grocery list onto the palm of his hand. The ink runs out midway through a ‘t’ with a pop, leaving a big blot on his skin. The pen soars into the trash without a single beat passing and Dick keeps scribbling on with another in a different color. “Let the blood go back to your brain. Take a long, hot shower or something.”
“No time for that,” you say, but he knows that you know he’s right—it’s in the nth sigh you let out, crackling electric over the phone.
“C’mon.”
“Fine, five more minutes.”
Dick smiles—wide, lady-killer, a thousand watts of brilliance—and shuffles all his loose-leaf papers into a stack bearing some semblance to neatness, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair. “It’s getting late, gotta go.”
“Sorry about dinner. Next week?”
“Sure.”
He presses the receiver down with ink still drying on his palm. Even when his superior clears his throat and reminds him that his investigative report is due tomorrow— yes, tomorrow, you would’ve remembered if you weren’t giggling to your girlfriend like an idiot— the giddy feeling knitting its way up his throat doesn’t go away.
An hour later, Dick steps up to the ratty doormat before the door of your apartment, manila folder tucked under his arm, groceries in hand, keys in the other. He doesn’t take long to find the key to your apartment—he knows the shape of it better than his own.
He’s barely relocked the door and out of his shoes before he’s setting the case folder right next to the reporter’s notebook and laptop on your coffee table, the plastic bag of groceries on the nearby counter. In the corner beside the ratty couch you bought off an online catalog, Dick thumbs through your collection of records (most of them his), picking out a slow jazz album from a long defunct band.
The vinyl is set on the mount of your record player (another thing of his, again, from when you finally escaped the bullpen) and he lays his jacket across the arm of your couch just as the trumpet and saxophone begin a gentle, crooning dance. You stumble out of the bathroom with your skin still dewy when the butter Dick is pushing around the pan begins to sputter.
He watches you settle down on the carpet with your back to the couch, level to the coffee table.
“Thought we postponed dinner,” you groan, popping your neck. Dick can see the red lining your sclera, highlighted starkly with the blue light from your laptop. The lines of your article fly past your glassy irises. “What’s on the menu, Chef Grayson?”
“Linguine.” He folds his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, and he swears that your eyes are following his fingers as he twists the cuffs over themselves. But that can’t be true, because people don’t watch their best friend with great interest as they roll their sleeves. “Capers or cilantro? Or both?”
“You know me,” you say, dragging his manila folder towards you. “Proof yours if you proof mine.”
Dick laughs, tapping the butter off his spatula and turning down the heat. The blue flames simmer as another song begins with a swaying piano solo. “Well, mine’s classified.”
“Don’t see a big red stamp anywhere.”
“I’m kidding, those copies are redacted.”
You grab your laptop and climb up onto the couch, dragging his jacket over yourself as you sink into the cushions, “Yay.”
The linguine flops into the colander, steam rising in a veil that is pierced when the streetlight beside your window flickers on, bathing your apartment in an orange, yolky hue, the kind that comes from those eggs you love buying from the Japanese mart two blocks down.
Somewhere in the near distance, a train rattles along its track and sends tremors up the foundation of the building.
A particularly loud grumble from your stomach punctuates the hiss of the gas turning off. Dick strides over with two shallow bowls, two forks, two mugs.
Dinner is quiet, quaint affair, interrupted only by the scrape of your fork and the clink of your mug as you set it down.
“This would be good with wine,” you say, stretching your legs along the length of the couch. Dick looks up from his spot on the carpet, slowly as to not further the ache building in his curled neck.
You’re painted in the dim, clementine halo that’s streaming in from outside and he swears that the shadows are sublimating right off you.
He has to fish around in the dark for his words, string them along in a fishing-line sentence, “Uh…next time. I’ll bring over something from the store.”
“Maybe you should make dinner more,” you suggest, setting down your bowl with nothing more than a soft clink against the coffee table. “Prices are going up, y’know.”
It’s not like expense is a problem; you know that Dick has quite the sum of money, and you’ve met Bruce before. Still, that doesn’t deter you from fighting for the bill.
Dick agrees with a smile, and you reach over the table with your computer dangling out of your hand by the corner of the base panel. He swaps it out wordlessly for his case report, swiping back and forth on the mousepad to awaken the screen.
VIGILANTES: UNINTENTIONALLY HARMFUL
You start talking about an upcoming journalist’s banquet that your company is hosting at a theatre in Gotham—yea, you say, Gotham, as if isn’t better than Blüdhaven.
Dick is only half listening, scrolling slowly down your article.
Growing up in Gotham, encountering vigilantes was anything but rare. I was thirteen when I first caught sight of Batman’s sidekick, Robin. The boy wonder swung right over me with a hand clutching the vine of his grappling wire and five minutes later, authorities issued an evacuation order for that block—
Scroll.
—that day, Robin did save me. If I hadn’t seen his shadow fall over the ground, I wouldn’t be here today. For that, I am grateful, but seeing the aftermath I so narrowly escaped from changed me. Do the lives lost really outweigh our growing dependence on vigilantes?
Scroll. Vaguely, he registers that you’re scribbling notes in the margins of the copy of his report.
—while it is impossible to dismiss the corruption within legal law enforcement, the question is still raised of whether illegal enforcers truly benefit the wider public or only culminate in bigger threats from worse people like the Joker—
Scroll. You yawn and draw the jacket that’s been laying over your chest up to your face, pressing your nose into the worn leather.
—doing what they believe is good at the risk of causing more harm. Even with the presence of vigilantes guarding our streets, it still is not truthful to say that we are entirely safe.
“I think,” Dick says, and you draw your face out of where you’d buried it in his jacket, “that your editor is one crazy son of a bitch.”
You smile, soft and smudgy in the clementine light that evaporates all the shadows around you. He almost forgets about all the secrets he’s harboring in the cabinetry of his anatomy.
(Scars on the back, memory lapses from one too many concussions, a deep-seated ache in his knee that never really goes away.)
“Told you so,” you sing, pen dancing around your fingers. “Yours is fine, just read my notes.”
He barely catches the folder when you toss it back— luckily, anything that’s loose-leaf doesn’t slip out. “Careful, I don’t wanna reorganize my report.”
“Paperclips are in my room,” you punctuate this with a tilt of your head towards the hallway. “Go take a shower too.”
Dick raises an arm and feigns a couple of confused sniffles. “Do I stink that much?”
“Yea, you smell like the shitty drip coffee at the office.”
“You act like we can afford the nice espresso you guys get.”
You scoff, sliding off the couch to grab your laptop and lead him to your room. The floorboards give with a small creak under his weight; you let the device fall onto the bed and rummage around your drawers for the clothes he always leaves here and the towel you’ve set aside for days like this one.
“Hurry up,” you say once you shove a bundle of pajamas into his hands. You put your palms on his sternum—he wonders if you can feel the fight his heart is putting up—and push him towards the bathroom. “I’m making you watch a movie with me for the entertainment page.”
His smile is barebones, a gentle twist of his mouth. It’s the kind that feels like a secret between the two of you. “You’re not usually this excited for an assignment. Is the entertainment editor cute or something?”
“Shut up,” you blurt, pushing harder with a spark of panic in your eyes, and Dick catches himself stumbling backwards into the counter.
“Oh, you have a crush, you like him!” The words feel uglier than they should be, rearing a twist of hurt-envy-why around each vertebra in his spine.
“Talk to me when you aren’t stinky!” You slam the door close, but not before Dick can see the embarrassed look flickering over your face.
The water starts running cold as he watches the shampoo gather in sudsy clouds around the drain—he’s quick to go through the rest of his routine and slide back into your room with a hand still toweling his hair dry.
You’ve calmed down since, checking your inbox mindlessly. Now that he thinks about it, Dick can’t remember a time you’ve been without that computer. You look up, and though the light in here isn’t clementine and only comes from the singularity point of your screen, he can still feel his breath tighten.
“So,” Dick starts. When he climbs into your bed, he finds that you’ve already made room for him. “Tell me all about this lucky guy.”
You roll your eyes, leaning against his shoulder almost as if on instinct. You’re warm against his cold skin. The tide behind his ribs swells until he’s about to burst.
“He’s cute, I guess. Funny, smart, dark hair” —then you’re reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, and selfishly, he thinks that no matter how hot this editor guy is, he’ll never get what Dick has with you— “kinda like yours, almost the same cut, but his eyes are green.”
He hums, taking the laptop from you and navigating to the movie. You continue to play with the hair at his nape absently, sending frisson down his spine.
“Not gonna say anything else?” you ask, and Dick just puts his arm around your shoulders despite the ache it agitates in his side.
(He should’ve iced that bruise.)
He cranes until his lips are half a breadth from the shell of your ear, whispers into the conch of it: no talking in the theatre.
Y’know, apparently this is his favorite new movie right now—
Shhhh.
The plot is so convoluted that Dick starts wandering, and it seems like you are too. Wandering in dreamland, that is, slumping until your breaths puff into the hollow of his clavicle.
The silence of the aftermath—when the credits run through and he’s not entirely sure whether he should wake you up to brush your teeth (no, it’s almost two in the morning now and you’re too comfortable)—is broken only by the faint wail of a siren.
It fades as quickly as it had come.
But Dick can’t get it out of his head. He’s drawn to the fight like a moth to the flame.
You’ll get up around nine, he thinks, because tomorrow is the weekend and your article is already being printed.
VIGILANTES: UNINTENTIONALLY HARMFUL
The words flash through his head, louder and brighter than sirens.
He knows he’ll hurt you if he gets up right now, leaves a pillow in the hollow of your arms and dons the suit hidden under the false bottom in his car’s trunk. You’re right, everything you wrote is so fucking correct that it makes something in his chest—
Dick slides—gingerly, with care, because that’s how he’s always treated you and that’s how he always will treat you—out from under the covers. He can be back before nine, with breakfast from that bakery you like and a newspaper tucked under his arm.
(Your newspaper, your article, your words.)
“Dickie,” you stir, fingers catching on the hem of his old sleepshirt.
“Relax, I just gotta pee.”
He’ll give you one truth for now, even if it stains his mouth sour, like the stale aftertaste of the bad coffee at work.
Dick—no, Nightwing tries not to dwell on it too much. He has people to protect.
— me feeling like the asian girl smoking in the cold meme rn, throwing down the cig and running up that snowy hill to my man.... also if u liked this please lmk!! i luv feedback and it motivates me to write more fic <33
summary: it was supposed to be a meet cute. it was supposed to be easy. it was supposed to be Kori. it was supposed to, supposedtosupposedtosupposedto- you're beautiful. everyone always tells Dick not to stare directly at the sun. it's too bad he can't stop himself.
You never really noticed it before but Dick had been… around – for a lack of a better word.
At first, you thought it was normal.
Isn’t this what friends do? Wally lets you hug him any which way you like, Roy piggybacks you through the halls towards the parking lot, Donna feeds you without thinking twice, her fork always filled with yummy pieces of food and Kori plays with your hair in the library, running her fingers through the soft strands over and over again.
So it was normal when Dick began to take the seat next to you at all times.
It was normal when he always found you before your 10AM lecture with your matcha order in hand – always sure to text you for your craving every morning.
You told yourself it was convenient. That his lecture was just past your classroom and he always parked by the little cafe over in The Commons. That he just liked routines. That it didn’t mean anything.
It was normal when you had returned his clothes, nice and neat in a pretty little tote bag you had won at the carnival and he only shook his head, putting the bag back into your backseat.
“Keep it.” He had said, slipping your Longchamp over his shoulder like it was habit, like it weighed nothing at all. “It looks better on you anyways.”
Something about the way he said it, eyes soft and the little smile on his lips, made your stomach flip, heat crawling up your neck. He didn’t notice – or at least, you don’t think he did. If he did notice, he didn’t say anything at all. He just cocked his head towards the building, a hand outstretched for you to take. “You coming?”
Of course you went. But you didn’t take his hand.
Dick didn’t say anything. Neither did you.
But he made sure he kept his pace matching yours, telling little jokes to make you laugh and carefully guiding you through the sea of students.
And stupidly, reflexively, you think of Kori.
You remember how happy and excited Kori had been when you all went out that night. How her eyes sparkled every time Dick pulled her closer by the waist and how carefree she looked when she danced with him, their hips swaying to the beat of the music.
Kori had already spoken for him.
So it didn’t matter if they both insisted they were friends now, or that it was better for the both of them to not date. It had still counted. It had still happened — and that was enough for you.
You hesitantly tug on the straps of your bag still hung on Dick’s shoulder. He turns back, a small smile on his face when he meets your gaze. “What’s up?”
“I can take my bag back.” You force yourself to smile properly, careful to crinkle the corner of your eyes . “I’m sure it’s heavy – and you’re already carrying your own backpack.” You gesture to the black Prada backpack slung over his shoulder. “Thanks for helping me.”
Dick cocks his head to the side. “It’s fine.” He adjusts your bag on his shoulder, the little plushie charm smiling innocently at you as it dangles off the straps. “You always complain about how heavy it is.”
“Right.” You nod, wincing internally. He was right. You always did complain about it – but could anyone blame you? Laptop, charger, planner, pens, water bottle, lip gloss, hand sanitizer – the list could go on and on.
Wally usually carried your bag for you. At least, until Dick started doing it.
“But I…” You search the corridors of the hallway frantically, eyes landing on the Filipino Association’s little booth as they sold ube and pandan waffles. “I need my wallet!” You plant your feet on the ground, careful to avoid his sleeve when you gently tug on the leather straps of your bag again. “I really want an ube waffle. And you know, Kori loves pandan so I figured I could buy some for her too.”
“And maybe some for Roy,” you add in thoughtfully. “He told me he’s never tried ube or pandan before.”
“None for me?” Dick turns to face you, gently removing your hand off your bag. “I’ve never tried it before either.”
You blink, cheeks burning when he leans over, a teasing smile on his face. He smells like lavender and bergamot, just like before, just like always – and you hate that you notice. You hesitantly take a step back, desperate to calm your rapidly beating heart. “Yeah! Yeah, we can– yeah.” You nod, turning towards the booth. “Let’s just buy a bunch for everyone then.”
You look back over your shoulder, careful to keep your voice steady. “Kori really likes pandan, so maybe you’ll like it too.”
Dick hums in agreement, following beside you, hand in his pocket as he pulls out his wallet.
“Can we get three of each please – the ube and pandan waffle?” He looks back at you, gesturing to the menu. “You want anything else?”
You shake your head. Dick turns back to the cashier, pulling out $20.
“It’ll be $30, actually.” The girl in the register looks up shyly, cheeks rosy red. Dick raises an eyebrow playfully, reaching into his wallet for another bill. “Wow, robbing me in broad daylight.”
The cashier laughs, a small, soft sound. “You’ll have to take it up with the treasurer. I’m just working here.” She takes the bills in Dick’s hands, her eyes darting quickly to where you stand.
You smile politely, resisting the urge to open your mouth and clarify. To say something, anything that would put you back in the place where you belonged – where you were safe.
Dick hands you the pastries in a small paper bag. “Shall we?” He gestures to the library. “I think everyone just ended class and meeting up in Kane.”
You nod, mind racing.
Kori was there. Your bag was still on his shoulder. He just paid for all the food – and refused to take back his clothes that you had borrowed.
“Actually, Dick–”
He looks back towards you. You hold your hand out for your bag, gesturing to the bathroom. “You go in first. I have to use the bathroom.”
Dick opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, pulling your bag off his shoulder. “It’s that time of the month.”
He closes his mouth, nodding in understanding. His eyes soften at the corners, his voice lowering as he steps closer. “You okay? Want me to get you anything?”
You shake your head, slinging your bag onto your shoulder. “Nope! I’m all good, don’t worry.” you take a step back carefully, doing your best to remain nonchalant. You wave him away, already halfway to the bathroom. “Go, go! I’ll see you guys soon.”
You turn around, walking briskly into the bathroom and you don’t look back.
x.
Kori looks up when you walk towards the table, a piece of her pandan waffle hanging out her mouth. “Hi!” She brightens, gesturing to the seat in between her and Dick. “Come, sit here.”
Dick only looks up once as you approach, shifting to let you pass by, before he returns his attention back to his laptop screen, headphones back on. You slide into the seat, carefully placing your bag on the back of your chair.
Dick’s knuckles brush your hand. You look down in surprise, his fingers tapping on the table towards a brown paper bag. Kori glances down at the noise before picking up her waffle again. “Oh yeah. Dick saved some for you.”
She pops another piece into her mouth before continuing. “He saved you half a pandan one and half an ube one.” Kori looks over at you when you don’t move. “Aren’t you going to eat it?”
You pause, looking at the brown paper bag.
Dick doesn’t even look at you, chewing on the end of his pen as he stares at his laptop with all the intense focus of the world.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, slowly opening the paper bag. You’re not sure who you’re talking to.
Kori tilts her head, studying you carefully.
“He wanted to.”
x.
You knock quietly on the door of Donna and Kori’s apartment, carefully balancing a tray of bubble tea in your hands.
You stare at the white wood of their door, heart beating fast and hard like a hummingbird against your chest. You let go of one hand on the tray, carefully smoothing back your hair again in a desperate attempt to calm down.
The door swings open a moment later. “Hey there silly.” Kori grins, her red curly hair falling over her shoulder. “Come in.” She takes the tray from you, setting it down on the table in front of the TV.
“Donna’s going to be home in a couple of minutes.” Kori announces from the kitchen. “She had to go buy some cassava. Are you staying for dinner?”
“If you’ll have me.” You answer evenly, unloading the tray. You set down the three bubble teas on the table, popping in the straw for both you and Kori. Kori hums, picking up the cup you hand her. “Of course. Donna won’t care.”
She flops down on the sofa, right beside the giant shark plushie you won her at the arcade. “Anyways, come sit down.”
You sit down stiffly, curling your hand around the plastic cup. You settle down on the cushions, letting the sound of the TV fill the silence. You scratch lightly at the plastic of the cup, letting the condensation collect on your fingers.
The sun shines brightly into the room. The TV plays quietly between the two of you, Kori’s laughter mixing in.
A beat.
You exhale quietly, clenching the cup around your fingers. It was now or never. You turn around, resting your cup on the shark plushie between the two of you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
Kori nods, eyes still on the screen, entranced by the characters on the screen.
“Has Dick been… weird with you lately?” You laugh quietly to yourself, shaking your head. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”
“Weird how?” Kori takes a sip of her drink, tearing her eyes away from the TV.
“Just…” you gesture vaguely, “you know… around.”
“He’s been a lot more helpful? I guess?” You let out a small puff of air to yourself, swiping along the condensation on the cup. “And he keeps on showing up? At first, I thought it was normal because of how I am with everyone else but lately it just seems really intentional.”
You hesitate before finally lifting your gaze to meet Kori’s steady ones. Something in her eyes makes you pause.
“Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”
Kori stares at you for a moment, letting your words hang delicately above both of your heads. You offer her a small smile, already taking it back. “You know what, I’m just being stupid. You know me, I always overthink–”
“Dick doesn’t really do things halfway.” Kori finally says, cutting you off effectively. You clamp your mouth shut, biting the inside of your cheek. “If he does something, it’s always been intentional.’
“Yeah, but–”
“No, no.” Kori shakes her head, looking at you. “Let me finish.”
You quiet again, fiddling with your rings.
“Dick has always been the kind of guy who does the right thing – even going as far as forcing himself to do so, but his body always knows.” Kori continues gently. Her hand reaches out before falling next to where you’re now rubbing your knuckles. “He’s not subtle when he’s fighting himself.”
She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to let her thumb brush against your fingers lightly. You still, blood rushing to your ears.
“If Dick is showing up for you, it’s because he wants to. Not because he has to. Not because he’s being forced to.”
Kori smiles gently but you catch the way her cheeks twitch, like she’s forcing herself.
“Right, but–” You run your fingers through your hair, the motion soothing you – if only for a brief moment. “You guys were dating for a while and I don’t want to make anything weird for anyone. You’re my best friend and I really–” You squeeze your eyes before forcing your shoulders to loosen. “I would never do anything to hurt you. I don’t want to even let whatever Dick is doing get that far if it will ever make you uncomfortable.”
“You won’t.” Kori says simply. “And you aren’t.”
She gives you a small smile. “And Dick wouldn’t do anything like that to either of us. That’s not the kind of person he is.” She leans back into the couch cushions, eyes flickering briefly to the TV before returning back to you.
Your chest tightens. “I don’t want to make things weird or awkward for anyone.”
“And you won’t be.” Kori lets her hand fiddle with the shark plushie’s fins for a moment. You say nothing, chest tight and heavy like the weight of the world was sitting on your sternum.
“What we had,” she continues, voice airy and light, casual on the surface, “is in the past now. We went on a few dates and they were good but we just didn’t have that spark or connection.” Kori looks up, squeezing the fin in between her fingers, the softness of the plushie doing nothing to reduce the way her stomach threatens to roll over. “We weren’t in the same place. These things happen.”
You study her face, the tight-lipped smile and the little twitch in her eyebrows. “You swear? You’re okay?”
She nods, holding up her pinky for you. “Pinky promise.”
You stare at her finger before slowly lifting your hand to interlock your finger with her.
“I just…” your finger tightens ever so slightly before you pull it away. “I don’t see why he’d give me all this attention.”
“What do you mean?” Kori’s pinky hovers in the air. She stares at you, absolutely perplexed.
“I mean, come on.” You let out a small laugh, running your hands through your hair. “We have like nothing in common. He’s Bruce Wayne’s son, for crying out loud.” You stare blankly at the velvet fabric of the shark plushie, a smile plastered onto your face. “We just get along, we have a good time but isn’t that just what friends do?”
Your voice grows small, hesitant. “He’s with me until he gets bored of me, until I become “too much”, until I don’t smile right or laugh the perfect amount, until I misread something and it’s back to square one — and based on how Dick’s wish-washy behavior towards me these past few months, it’s a real possibility.”
“Dumped by Dick Grayson.” You let out a puff of air, “Real good for my mental health.”
A moment of silence.
You look up alarmed before smothering it just as quick, a carefully crafted mask placed on your face. “Just kidding.” You laugh. The corners of your eyes crinkle at the corner carefully. “Who would ever think that about me? I’m fun, I’m pretty, I’m cute and smart. I’m a dream come true.”
“Don’t you agree?” Your cheeks strain from the effort.
Kori stares at you, a million thoughts running through her head as you wait for her answer.
“You are those things.” She finally answers, the words said quietly. You exhale, smoothing your hair once more.
“But—“ you look up, confused as Kori continues. “You don’t have to joke what you were feeling away.”
Your smile twitches.
“That’s not how Dick sees you.” She says quietly. “If he is showing up for you like this, he’s not forcing himself. Your worth and attention is not conditional. Dick likes you — we all like you, just the way you are. Our love and attention to you is not conditional.”
“Besides,” she pulls back, giving you a wry smile. “What’s so wrong with liking you? I’d date you if I was a man.”
You roll your eyes, falling back against the cushions. “You can date me now if you want.”
Kori laughs, a real one this time. You can’t help but give a little giggle of your own, matching her. She turns her head slightly, voice dropping slightly. “I was serious, you know. Anyone who’s with you or even gets to be with you is lucky.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, letting your head rest back along the cushions. “Whatever you say.”
Kori turns to face the TV, her smile still plastered on her face.
Like she said with Donna, her feelings for Dick would eventually fade.
Sooner rather than later, she hopes.
x.
Dick shuffles in his seat uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his worn black Carhartt hoodie (stolen from his younger brother Jason, of course — too big, too heavy, but good for hiding in.)
Kori had been staring at him on and off the entire time the group had met at the library, the kind of stare that made his skin prickle uncomfortably under his hoodie no matter what he did.
He pretends to type something on his laptop, forcing himself to take a sip of his water under her intense gaze. From across the table, you were leaning against Donna, proof-reading a paper she had written, tapping your pen against your forehead thoughtfully.
Wally and Roy sit on either side of Dick, both intensely concentrated on their work with Wally staring angrily at his lab, numbers and formulas scribbled haphazardly in his notebook and Roy carefully memorizing the different muscle groups of the body.
Dick glances back down at his laptop screen, his macro economics lecture paused. He should be preparing for his exam next Monday, not… being made to feel like a specimen under Kori’s serious stare.
You let out a small laugh, looking over at Donna as you point at something on her laptop screen. The sound cuts through the air, clear and bright and Dick can’t help but match your smile, the curves of his lips moving up before he registers it – at least, until his skin prickles under his hoodie again, Kori’s gaze unrelenting on him.
He clears his throat, dropping his eyes once more to his laptop screen.
Kori still doesn’t let up.
Wally throws his pen on the table with a frustrated groan, rubbing his eyes angrily. “You know what, fuck this lab and fuck you Professor Harris.”
Roy pulls out one of his earbuds, mumbling quietly to himself before tearing his eyes away from the anatomical drawings in his textbook. “You’re too loud for the library.”
“Yeah, well, this lab is too much for my poor brain.”
You look up, pretty eyes peeking out from over the surface of Donna’s laptop. “Shall we go for a sweet treat run?” You lean forward, eyes sparkling. “Beat the 3PM slump this way?”
Donna rests her head on your shoulder, stifling a yawn. “I’m down.”
“Count me in.” Wally says, already standing up to stretch. Roy carefully places a sticky note on the textbook page before slamming it closed, scooting out of his chair. “Me too.”
Dick opens his mouth, his fingers dancing across the top of his laptop before slowly pushing it closed. “I’ll come–”
“Dick and I can stay here.” Kori interrupts, finally pulling her gaze away. She turns towards you, giving you a little smile. “We can watch everyone’s stuff. Bring me back something, won’t you?”
You hum nodding thoughtfully bumping shoulders with her affectionately. “Yes ma'am!" You face Dick, your chair scraping against the floor of the library as you stand up. “And you, Dick?”
Something about the way you said his name made him pause. He blinks before smiling, “Yeah. Just get me whatever you’re having.”
You stare at him for a minute, biting your lip before nodding, turning away when Wally loops his arm over your shoulder, steering you away from the table.
Dick watches as you point at something on your phone, letting out a small giggle when Donna says something, the sound threading into his ribs and into his heart. He rubs his eyes, forcing himself to look at Kori across from him, her gaze somehow even more stronger.
“So,” he lets out an awkward laugh, desperate to smother the uncomfortableness that was creeping up his neck, “I guess they really left us.”
“Yeah.” Kori hums, nodding. She closes her laptop, tapping her burgundy red nails against the metal surface. “I guess so.”
Dick slips one hand into his gray sweatpants, fingers anxiously playing with a piece of leftover lint. “It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since we decided to just be friends, right?” He tilts his head, giving her another small smile. “Crazy, huh?”
Kori studies him for a moment, green eyes taking in the way he fidgets in his chair, his blue eyes darting from her green eyes to your laptop left open and your baby pink water bottle you always carry around (and always ask Dick to refill for you).
(He always says yes.)
“Yeah.” She says lightly, “I guess it is.”
Her fingers still on the laptop, tapping one last final time before her palms rest fully against the metal surface. “It’s… different, isn’t it?”
Dick nods. “Yeah. I think so. But we were pretty adult about it, don’t you think?”
“I guess so.” Kori doesn’t say anything else.
Dick nods again, slower this time. A beat of silence passes between the two of them, stiff and heavy.
“So, what do you think [Name] will get–”
“I have something to ask you—“
Kori and Dick both pause as their sentences overlap. He shakes his head, gesturing vaguely towards her. “You first.”
She studies him for a moment, making him squirm in his seat. “It’s nothing crazy.” Kori finally says, voice light and airy. “I just wanted to know how you’ve been since we were last… you know.””
“Oh.” Dick pauses. “I’m good. Everything is fine.” He tilts his head, eyes widening slightly. “Are we not fine? Did I misread something?”
Kori shakes her head. “No, no. We're fine. I was just curious since we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it.”
She watches as his eyes flit over to your pink water bottle once more. Kori bites the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to look down at her nails. It was no use denying it – no use to pretend otherwise.
Dick liked you.
Kori clears her throat, catching his attention once more. “So, how has the romance department been for you since? Anyone special in your life?”
He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow, guess we’re getting right into it, huh?”
Kori gives him a little smile, her cheeks aching from the effort. “It’s just a casual question.” She looks down, tapping her nails against the surface of her laptop once again. “I was just curious. I haven’t really seen you talk to anyone else since then. You’re usually with Wally or–”
Dick follows her gaze to where your seat was.
“--with [Name].” She finishes quietly.
Dick stiffens, the tip of his ears turning a cherry red. “Yeah, um–” He swallows with difficulty, “You know. Wally lives across from me and I just happen to run into [Name] since she’s always with him too, or our classes are near each other–”
Kori watches him with an amused smile, resting her chin on her palm. “Wow, you’re doing a lot of mental gymnastics over there, aren’t you?”
He laughs sheepishly, looking down. “Is it working?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Kori gives him a little grin. The gnawing feeling in her stomach dissipates ever so slightly and she lets out a small exhale, shoulders dropping.
“You don’t have to tell me how you feel about her.” Kori reaches over to gently tap the table space between the two of them. “You don’t have to tell anyone. I just wanted to let you know that it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re good. We’re completely and utterly fine.”
Dick stares at her burgundy nail, breath shallow.
“You don’t need to worry about hurting me. Our chapter has ended and we’ve made peace being friends.” Kori continues, watching the smile on Dick’s face twitch. “Just be honest to yourself, okay?”
He nods slowly, Kori’s words slowly but surely burrowing itself into his brain.
“You’re very… sweet to her.” Kori says quietly, staring down at the Apple logo of her laptop. “It’s kinda cute - and very obvious, by the way.” She doesn’t look up at him, keeping her palm pressed onto the surface of her MacBook. The sweatiness of her palm returns full force.
Dick huffs out a laugh. “Thanks. I think.”
Kori nods, satisfied — even if it was just something she had to force herself to feel.
They both look up when Donna’s shadow appears, falling over the table. She jerks her head behind her, setting down her iced caramel latte. “They’re lagging behind. [Name] ran into a few of her friends.” She lowers her voice, taking your seat. Her eyes light up, a mischievous grin on her face. “I’m pretty sure that one of them likes her. He kept trying to get close to her and everything.”
Kori glances at Dick briefly before returning her attention to Donna. “Is it the guy with the glasses?”
“Yes! Oh my god, with the black hair and earrings?”
“And the tattoo? On his forearm?”
Donna practically leaps out of the chair, grabbing onto Kori excitedly. “Yes!”
Dick pulls at his earlobe.
“He’s been chasing her since freshman year, apparently.” Kori shakes her head, a small laugh escaping her. “Apparently he even had a few girlfriends but they all looked like [Name].”
Donna lets out a low whistle. “Gotta hand it to him — he knows what he wants.”
Dick forces a smile when Donna glances over at him. Kori taps her nail again on the table surface. “A man on a mission.” she says, laughing lightly.
Footsteps approach.
Wally appears with you by his side, your laughter breathless and warm, reaching the table before Dick can see you. Roy holds up a brown paper bag, setting it down with finality in the center of their little library table.
“We got some popcorn chicken and bubble waffles too.”
You slide a brown paper cup tray next to it, your hand curling around a plastic cup. “Kori, I got you a dragonfruit refresher. I remember you’ve been craving it lately.”
She nods, smiling gratefully. You turn to Dick picking up another drink. “Mr. Grayson, you get what I got - passion fruit green tea with herbal jelly. Don’t be upset if you don’t like it.”
Dick forces a smile, his hand wrapping around the cup as you hand it to him. Your fingers don’t brush.
Wally takes his seat next to Dick, letting you steal the piece of bubble waffle he had taken for himself from his fingers.
Dick stares at the smile on your face as you chew happily, eyes lit up as Roy tells a joke.
Kori says nothing.
She sees it all.
a/n: heh an extra long and fast update because... THE KNICKS WON THE KNICKS WON THE KNICKS WON EVERYONE SAY IT WITH ME KNICKS IN FIVE KNICKS IN FIVE KNICKS IN FIVE JALEN BRUNSON I LOVE YOU JALEN BRUNSON IS MY DOCTOR, HE IS MY ENGINEER, HE IS MY MECHANIC, HE IS MY SUBWAY DRIVER, HE IS MY PILOT, HE IS MY DAD. EVERYTHING I DID WAS FOR JALEN BRUNSON RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SPURS BLEW A 29 POINT LEAD IN GAME FOUR THATSSSSS WILLDDDD AND THEN 16 POINT LEAD IN GAME 5 ??? THAT'S EVEN WILDERRRRRRRRRRRRR YALL HAD WEMbY SAYING HE'S IN ROBINSON'S HEAD & STILL BLEW THAT LEAD HAHAHAHAA GREATEST MF COMEBACK IN ALL OF NBA HISTORY THAT'S WHAT IM FUCKING TALKING ABOUT KNICKS IN FIVE KNICKS IN FIVE KNICKS IN FIVEEEEEE RRAAAAAAAAAAAAA
in all seriousness - the spurs did a great job, they played amazingly (and imma hold my mouth about what i have to say about the refs riding their dicks) and all the players have massive potential and talent. im excited to see how things go for the 26-27 season!
about your last post, what if Bruce and dick or maybe damian decide to go to a little diner near where they were patrolling. concidentally, that's the same place where the reader's been working. Except, the reader doesn't realize that it's Bruce and their brothers because she's had back to back shifts or a test or something- and it's like super awkward because the kid that you've been hiding from the press, the kid that's a "spoiled brat", and the kid you forgot about, is now your waitress/waiter and is too sleep deprived to even realize that you're their father.
Idk, I just think that it's a cool concept, love ur writing, and I hope your day's going well!
This is an amazing idea for my concept!
My main thoughts for this idea is to just have the reader insert to not give a fuck, sleep deprived or not, but the duo coming into the diner would probably have differing reactions depending of whom it is. Obviously Bruce would be shocked about you working in a diner, dick too, Jason probably would be disappointed in Bruce for letting this happen, Tim probably barely knows you and Damian probably has zero clue who you are depending how old the reader is. I’m thinking reader is old enough to have moved out a while ago so I’m thinking after school years,they probably never was able to go past the main groups of school considering their poor.
All im imagining is reader just 🧍”welcome to starborn diner what can I get you” with no try for a costumer survice smile because that fucker has been working every night for weeks and probably has a day job too.
Please read the tags and notes properly for content warnings and use discretion for sensitive topics
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The Masks We Wear by Vee (a_reader_and_a_writer) - "Your father is one of the most beloved men in all of Gotham, but that's because they don't know the truth….."
Eternity by narnian_neverlander - “You never gave me the chance to get to know you again, to form my own opinion, you just decided for me! God, I can’t believe you, you absolute prick! How could you ever think I’d turn against you?! After everything we’ve been through?!” Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he shrugs nonchalantly, his next words steeped in bitterness. “Everyone else had no trouble doing it.”
“Well everyone else doesn’t love you the same way I do, do they?!”
