psppsspsps dropping another request, more!vampire!male!reader, uh but this time dick or jason?? or whoever you feel fit, anyway they are sharing an apartment with reader, though their lock breaks, so dick replaces it, so when reader tries to get back into their apartment they can’t because of dumb vampire logic, meaning they desperately try to convince dick or jason to let him inside their apartment again, but he can’t exactly tell them that he’s a vampire…. just goofy
Can You Let Me In?
Pairing: Dick Grayson x GN!Vampire!Reader
Words: 1.3k
Content Warning: None - Fluff piece
Enjoy, Reader
You never notice how much of life quietly assumes you belong until the day it stops.
No warning. No ceremony. Just the sharp click of a lock sliding home—a sound meant to reassure the people inside, not the one left standing in the hall. You freeze, grocery bag digging into your fingers, and stare at the door like it’s turned on you. Like it woke up and decided you were the problem.
The hallway hums. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Somewhere above, a dryer rattles on and on. Burned toast drifts in from next door. Everything is aggressively normal, which somehow makes it worse. The world keeps spinning like nothing’s changed, and you’re the only thing that doesn’t fit anymore.
You try the handle again.
It doesn’t move.
You blink, then frown. Frowning is older than reason—a reflex burned in long before you stopped being fully human. You jiggle the knob harder, then step back and glare, like you can bully it into working through sheer irritation.
“Very funny,” you mutter under your breath, shifting the grocery bag to your other hand as your fingers begin to ache. “Cute joke.”
The door doesn’t budge. Sarcasm and resentment just slide off.
The realization creeps in, slow and sickening. It doesn’t hit all at once. It builds, piece by piece, each part snapping into place with a kind of cruel logic that leaves no room for hope.
The lock is new.
The apartment has been altered.
The space has been redefined.
Your hand hovers inches from the knob, hesitation tightening your chest as you half-expect the door to recoil from your touch, or worse, to confirm what your instincts are already screaming.
You try anyway.
The metal is cold and unyielding under your palm. You pull. Nothing. No give, no welcome, none of that subtle flex that usually means you belong here.
You step back. Your heart thuds, useless.
“Oh no,” you whisper, the words barely audible. “No, no, no, no.”
You try again. Denial is a survival skill. You’ve lasted centuries on hope, stubbornness, and refusing to take no for an answer. The door doesn’t care. It might as well be welded shut.
This is bad.
This is spectacularly bad.
Because you live here.
And yet, somehow, you don’t.
The hallway feels wrong now, like it’s tilting away from you, nudging you toward the exit. The apartment beyond the door is closed off—not by metal, but by something older. Something that snaps shut and doesn’t open again once you’re on the wrong side.
Your phone buzzes sharply in your pocket, startling you so badly you nearly drop the groceries.
You fumble for it, thumb sliding too fast across the screen. Your pulse jumps, even though your heart has no reason to panic anymore.
Dick: Hey! Replaced the lock btw
Dick: The old one was basically a suggestion
Dick: Keys should still work tho, unless I grabbed the wrong set
Dick: lmk if it’s weird
You stare at the message. Then the door. Then the screen again. Your jaw tightens as the truth settles, heavy in your chest.
You type back.
You: Hey, haha, funny thing
You: Door is uh
You: Not opening
The response comes almost immediately.
Dick: …what
Dick: Like stuck-stuck?
Dick: I’m literally two blocks away
Your stomach drops.
Two blocks away means he’ll be here any second—questions, explanations, Dick’s too-sharp gaze pinning you in place. You glance at the door, your hand still useless on the knob, like you might talk it into changing its mind.
You cannot enter without an invitation.
You have not been invited.
Because the lock is new, the space is different. And vampire rules are, frankly, an absolute nightmare in the twenty-first century.
You type again, choosing your words with care.
You: It’s probably just jammed
You: Could you maybe open it from the inside
The three dots appear, vanish, then return.
Dick: Sure?
Dick: You okay?
Dick: You sound weird
You are weird, just not the way he thinks you are. Footsteps echo in the stairwell. You’re out of time to invent a better excuse.
You recognize his gait before he even rounds the corner. That easy rhythm, the lightness that moves, looks like breathing. He appears, paper bag of takeout in hand, hair mussed, jacket half-zipped, expression open and familiar.
“Hey,” he starts easily, already mid-sentence. “Sorry, traffic was...”
He stops short when he takes you in entirely, his gaze flicking from you to the door and back again.
“You’re… in the hallway,” he says slowly, like he’s testing the idea out loud.
“Yes,” you reply.
He tilts his head. “Which is usually where you are before you open the door.”
“Yes.”
“And you texted me like the door personally offended you.”
“Also yes.”
He squints at the lock, shifting the takeout to his other hand. “Okay. Humor me. Try the key.”
You dig your keys out of your pocket, hand shaking just enough to irritate you, and slide the key into the lock. It turns smoothly. The click echoes too loudly in the hush of the hallway.
Dick’s eyebrows lift. “See? It’s fine.”
You grip the handle and pull.
Nothing happens.
His smile falters. “Huh.”
You try again, harder this time, but the door refuses you with calm indifference. Dick steps closer, concern cutting through his easy demeanor.
“Okay, hang on, let me...”
“Wait,” you blurt, the word tumbling out before you can stop it.
He freezes, his hand hovering inches from the knob as he looks at you with open confusion. “Why?”
You gesture vaguely at the door, panic making your explanation clumsy. “It’s… sensitive.”
He blinks. “The door.”
“Yes.”
“That’s new.”
You let out a laugh that’s a little too quick, a little too sharp. “New locks can be temperamental.”
Dick studies you closely now, head tilting as concern and curiosity wrestle for control. “I opened it from the inside earlier.”
“Which is great,” you say, your voice thin. “For you.”
“And not for you.”
“Exactly.”
He exhales, sets the takeout down, and opens the door fully, stepping aside with an easy, inviting gesture. Warm air spills into the hallway, carrying the familiar scent of home: detergent, coffee, faint metal.
“Okay,” he says casually. “Come on in.”
You step forward.
And stop.
No pain. No force. No fear. Your body just refuses to cross the threshold, like you’ve hit an invisible wall made of intent instead of brick. The space pushes back; gentle, but final.
Dick watches, bewildered. “Are you… doing a bit?”
“I wish.”
You try again, still nothing.
His brow furrows. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“I can’t,” you admit quietly.
His expression softens immediately. “Hey. You’re not trapped out here, are you?”
“…kind of.”
Silence stretches between you until he finally asks, more carefully this time, “Why can’t you come in?”
You hesitate, then choose your words with surgical precision. “Technically, I don’t have permission.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Permission from who?”
“From you.”
“I never said you couldn’t.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
You rub your face. “The universe takes things very literally. Painfully so.”
Dick stares at you for a long moment before breaking into a grin. “You’re messing with me.”
“I swear I’m not.”
“You’re telling me my new lock has magical veto power.”
“I would phrase it differently,” you say dryly. “But yes.”
He laughs, leaning against the doorframe. “That’s incredible.”
“I’m stranded,” you reply flatly.
“Okay, okay,” he says, sobering. “So what fixes it?”
You hesitate, mortified. “You have to invite me in.”
“I already did.”
“No. You opened the door.”
He pauses, then nods slowly. “Oh. So wording matters.”
“Yes.”
Dick straightens, clears his throat with exaggerated seriousness, and gestures toward the apartment.
“You are invited inside,” he says warmly. “Please come in. It’s your home.”
The barrier vanishes instantly.
You stumble forward as the resistance dissolves. A shuddering breath leaves you as you cross the threshold. The door shuts behind you. For a moment, neither of you says anything.
“…okay,” Dick says finally. “You’re explaining that.”
You groan, the truth clawing at your throat. It sits there, heavy and raw, until you finally let it out. "I'm a vampire," you say, the words scraping past your teeth.
He blinks once, then smiles. “Cool. That explains everything.”
You stare at him.
“Welcome home,” he adds easily, like it was never in doubt.
i am gonna be anonymous because i am insecure about my writing and yes, i just wanted to share <33 supposed to be a little tense between the two but oh well, uh apologies for grammar mistakes, i don’t know English well enough
a paper cut, that was all, a small insignificant cut in his finger, deep enough to bleed: tiny beads of blood, barely anything at all — and yet it summoned you in mere seconds.
you stood in the doorway, eyes locked on the cut, it was hypnotic, pulling you in, calling you — you had smelled it from across base. the promise of fresh blood was to much — and so, with clumsy step you were inside his office.
“sir” you muttered, unsure what else to say as you finally looking at Leon rather than his bleeding finger — the older man looked more amused than ever, already very aware of the power his blood held.
he made no move to stop the bleeding, in fact, he pressed below the wound, pushing out a few droplets of blood: he was testing you. that smug bastard. the next words you spoke were embarrassing, a weak excuse: trying to get away before your self control truly crumbled.
“you’re hungry” Leon interrupted, a statement that made you feel nauseous, for he knew you so well, and you hated it.
“i’m fine” snarling, fangs on display, defiant as always, eyes locked on the man with all the power, glaring like it would somehow stop him.
“dumb vampire–“ he scoffed, your teeth aching as a droplet of blood hit the desk — the sound echoing in your head, when was the last time you actually had fed? days? weeks?
“eat” he demanded, knowing he’d already won, and with that your resolve crumbled completely.
The keys to the city for you and your Uber driver
This is awesome??!!! Hello!!! You'll need to make some one-shots and let me follow you right away. I'm serious, I ate this up.
