˖.𖥔 ݁˖royluvr4000⊹ ࣪ ˖

A low whistle sounded from behind you, making you smile and roll your eyes.

You were standing in front of your mirror, trying to get the tiny earring back onto the stud.

Stephanie had invited you as well as Babs and Cass to Brunch for no particular reason other than to get tipsy before noon and maybe max out one of Bruce's credit cards at the nearby Mall.

"Hot girl brunch" as it was branded used to be scheduled once a month. A get together with your girlfriends to talk about anyone and anything and most definitely gossip.

Unfortunately, life got busy for all of you, so this was the first time you'd have your little tradition back in a while.

As ecstatic as you were, your boyfriend was pouting in the corner because he wanted to come along.

Apparently, however, he was done sulking and came up behind you, eyeing you up and down with a smirk.

"Fuck me, you look good." He grinned, meeting your eye in the reflection.

You smiled brightly, your nose scrunching up slightly.

"Thanks, babe. Gotta look good for my girls!" You chuckled, fixing a few hair strands that sat out of place.

Roy scoffed and crossed his arms.

"What about me, huh? You don't wanna look good for me?"

You shook your head and turned on your heel, reaching up to pinch his stubbled cheek.

"You know what happens everytime I try to look nice for you." You said, raising your brows.

Roy's face scrunched up in questions. "No??"

Your lips parted slightly.

"You're fucking with me." You chuckled, slight disbelief lacing your tone.

"I swear to you, I'm not."

You stared at him for a minute before turning back around to face the mirror, adjusting your outfit.

You'd chosen a graphich T-shirt with a psychedelic print and a tight denim skirt with embroidered pockets.

The denim hugged your hips perfectly but it wasn't so tight that your soft belly was compressed. The curve of if which you could see from the side was one of your favorite parts.

An outfit that's cute and comfortable was a win in your book. You'd tied the shirt into a knot at the front, contemplating whether to add a funky belt to tie it all together.

Your fingers were glitzing with your favorite rings and a stack of necklaces framed the neckline of the shirt.

You did look pretty damn good, Roy was right about that.

"For your information," you began, lightly pressing some glitter into your lid, "you rip apart all my clothes. If you think I look good, you insatiable animal will tear my favorite pieces to shreds."

Roy's lips parted slightly and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent.

"Nothing to say to that, huh?" You teased, applying a shiny lip gloss.

Your boyfriend stuttered for a moment, running a hand through his red hair before answering.

"Okay, look- in my defense, do you even know how sexy you are? And then you put yourself in a tiny denim skirt and expect me not to go primal?" He tried to defend himself.

You turned and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Baby.." he said softly, hands finding your hips.

"You get me so hot. You with your fucking curves and pretty smile. Thighs that can crush me- and you're so soft. Like a marshmallow. Just as sweet, too. I'm a feeble man, I can't resist that." He smirked softly, moving his hands to stick them in your back pockets, cupping your ass.

You relaxed a little in his embrace, a smile sneaking onto your face.

"No more destroying my wardrobe in the future, alright?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He grinned, looking at you through lided eyes.

"Stop feeling me up, I have places to be." You remarked, tightly grasping at his wrists to stop his wandering hands.

He smiled cheekily.

"I'm sure they won't mind you being a little late." He replied lowly.

With a small huff, you grabbed his face with one hand.

"Not happening. I've waited too long for hot girl brunch. Try your luck again when I'm back, cowboy." You scolded lightly, pressing a wet kiss to his lips before twisting out of his arms and grabbing your purse.

Slipping on your shoes, you grab a jacket and your keys before hurrying out the door.

"Bye, babe, love you!" You called before the door fell shut.

Roy stood there a little flustered and impressed, an amused huff breaking from the smirk that had formed as he was looking at you leave.

He reached up to his lips and wiped the sticky gloss off before licking the pad of his thumb.

"Huh." He mused with a smile.

Cherry.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Lil bluuuuurb for you babies <3

Check out my other stuff! -> 💫

Some people I think might be interested.... (I want your feedback on my Roy pls 🩷)

You were such a lively person. Roy loved this about you. He never thought of you as loud or clingy.

When some people came at him and complained about you, he became sarcastic and supported your actions.

And that was what you loved about him.

He was sober for months, maybe even years, but still he was the most supportive boyfriend you’ve ever had when it came to your party life.

He loved going out to parties with you. He protected you when you got drunk. Helped you shower, get ready for bed and do whatever you couldn’t at that moment.

That man was such a good man and you loved it about him.

The best thing about him was that he wasn’t insecure. He didn’t say anything about what you wore and that was such a blessing.

And he had the cutest little girl ever!

You and Lian always prepared breakfast while Roy was sleeping, with loud music.

Dating him was so much fun than you could ever think of.

He prepared delicious cocktails just for you. Whenever you wanted to throw a party, he helped you make your playlist. He was the funniest person ever.

And, of course, you adapted to his life, too.

He had a life that consisted of action. Being a father, boyfriend and Arsenal was not easy feat but he managed it well.

You became the trusted adult whenever he had to leave Lian with someone.

You and Lian had so many fun times together. You painted your nails, cooked, baked, threw pajama parties, watched cartoons and Barbie movies.

Even though you and Roy had such different lives, you still made life amazing to live together and that was what Roy adored the most.

BONUS DRABBLE ! (suggestive, reader is drunk)

“Let’s go,” you heard him say, his breath hit your ear as you kept swaying your hips to the music. Roy was behind you, his hands hugged your hips and pressed a little to stop your movements but you didn’t stop. “C’mon, baby.” You shook your head against his words.

“Can we stay more?” You turned to face him in his arms. His palms landed on your ass, slowly crawling up to your back. His touch was so feather soft yet solid there. “Pretty please!” You whined loudly.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head to each side, “Nope.”

“I’ll kiss you and hug you and fuck—“

“No.” He pulled you into himself a little more. You buried your head into his muscular chest as your arms climbed around him and grabbed his back.

“Rooy…” You cried his name out and he did the same with your name, his arms patted your back.

“We should leave. You need to shower, sleep, maybe I’ll give you a massage if you’re a good girl.”

His words were going right into your brain as he kept saying his bait. You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you said. The loud music was banging in your head and it matched with your heartbeat. “Can you carry me?”

“Sure,” The last thing you saw was his smirk and you heard yourself yelp as he threw you over his shoulder.

“Roy!” You hit his back but he kept walking and ignored you. “I’m gonna throw up, oh my god!”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to do it.” His grasp on your legs got tighter as you kept squirming. “It also would not be the first time you did it.”

Those thoughts led to one last text message he left last night. 'I hope you come to my gig.'

And there you were, standing in the far back, holding a cup of whatever while you watched him play. Your face was devoid of any expression, watching him with a blank stare and lips pressed into a tight line.

He didn't let it mess with his head. That night, he played better than he's ever played.

— ONE WEEK AGO.

"You look fine. Pretty, even." Roy chuckled, glancing at you as you checked your teeth for the umpteenth time in the vanity mirror. You were now aware of never asking Roy how you looked; he was always going to say you looked pretty. It was one of those sweet things that became annoying over time.

You swore you could still feel some remnants of the veggies you ate earlier lodged in the gaps of your teeth, hence why your finger was still nudged in your mouth, trying to find where the salad was, as it muffled your speech. "I cou hill heel ik!" You muffled, straightening your posture once again to look in the mirror.

A few moments later, you proved Roy wrong. There was, in fact, a small bit of salad stuck between your molars. Before leaving the car, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror. You were going to meet his friends today, and you were determined to impress them.

They were pretty popular on campus. A wallflower like you heard a few rumours here and there, but still knew well enough not to let those rumours cloud your judgement. After all, giving Roy a chance at that house party made him become your partner, your significant annoyance.

You walked into the bar with him, looking around to take in the atmosphere. It was probably a little fancier than the usual dive bars people you knew frequented. You wouldn't know — you've stepped into many taverns filled with pointy-eared humans and those with skin painted in bright greens or purples, but not actual bars that served alcoholic drinks. Mentally, you thank Roy for not making you remain a total dork.

"Theeerreee he is!" A voice boasted, lifting his arm to direct the two of you to a booth in the far end corner of the bar. He was another ginger, tall and a little bit lankier than Roy. His hair was curly, face peppered with visible freckles. You finally recognise him to be none other than Wally West.

Surprisingly, you've talked to Wally a few times before due to common interests. Hell, in freshman year, you hated him for stealing your spot in the college's e-sports team (which, to be frank, he earned fair and square.)

"Oh, hey!" He grinned, dabbing you up with so much energy you wondered if he had super speed. "Haven't talked to you in a while, dude." He said, throwing his arm around your shoulder to walk you closer to the gang.

"Wally, can you let them breathe first?" Says the only girl in the group, staring at him with the familiar look of siblingly annoyance. "Ignore him, he's just excited to have someone new on the table."

Donna, like Wally, was familiar to you, too. She was the first person most clubs scoured to hire whenever pictures needed to be taken. A semester ago, your D&D club booked her to be the photographer for your annual meeting. By some magic miracle, she managed to make your club look cool.

"Mhm." The guy next to her nods. You'd be living under a rock if you say you didn't know him. Dick Grayson was the campus heartthrob — you've seen him pretty much everywhere, with your favourite appearance of his being the one where his entire face was on a huge banner in front of the accounting faculty. He wasn't even learning accounting.

Roy eventually rolled his eyes, pulling you closer to him by the collar of your shirt. He took the chance to jest, accepting the risk of being punched in the arm. "Guys, chill. Please. This is their first time interacting with human beings."

Of course, you punched him in the arm. "Dick." You huffed, to which Dick Grayson says, "Me?"

Donna snorts. "Anyways, where the hell's Garth?"

"Swim meet. Didn't you read the group?" Wally answered, reaching out to steal another one of her fries.

The rest of the night went well — more than well, really. They had you caught up with their inside jokes, told funny stories they would never stop repeating to new people they meet, and even talked about letting you join their future meetups. Even though you still preferred being alone in your room, the fact that they thought of inviting you was nice.

The sound of a microphone's feedback makes you wince, ruining the comfortable atmosphere of the conversation. You turned around, seeing a girl on a stage with a TV above her head, displaying the lyrics to the song she was about to sing.

Roy had brought you to a karaoke bar.

When you turned to face him, you were met with a pout and pleading puppy eyes. "No," you said, immediately turning him down. "There's no way in hell am I going up there to sing, Harper."

A few moments later, you sat at the table, watching Roy belt out an old eighties love ballad, unable to hit a single note. He caressed the microphone stand, moving with nothing but unadulterated passion. For a second, his eyes found yours, flustering you before you looked away.

You weren't the only one to have noticed that. Beside you, Wally eyed you with a suggestive smirk. The redhead nudged Dick, "Think he's got anyone in mind, Dicky?"

"Oh, definitely." Dick laughed, also looking at you for a moment. The four friends broke into quiet laughter, sending suggestive looks your way, implying something you didn't know.

"Why the heck are you guys looking at me like that?" you asked, looking at them as you fidgeted with the edge of your cup.

Donna chuckled, answering with a sarcastic shrug. "Oh, I dunno, maybe the fact Roy's pretty much in love with you?"

That made your heart drop. Not in a good way. A dam in your head broke, flooding your head with thoughts that weakened your nervous system. Roy Harper. In love with you? You face the man on the stage again, watching him as he practically humps the microphone stand with how passionate he's singing. You suddenly felt physically sick, unable to process that statement even if they meant it as a joke.

Roy Harper, in love with you? The change of perspective felt too sudden. Your body went limp as if you'd been hit by a high-speed bullet train. The way you see everything he's done for you changes — from the Renaissance Faire to the dance in Ollie's kitchen.

To you, it was still ridiculous. It didn't make sense. The mere thought of him loving you more than a friend felt as impossible as the concept of time travel itself. The polaroid girl's face is etched in your mind, being the voiceless figure that reminds you to never fall for Roy Harper, because he doesn't go for geeks like you. You're not his type, and you never will be.

Yet… why does it make sense? That would be the answer to his kindness towards you, the reason behind why Roy would've pushed everything aside just to see a smile on your face, even if it was only for a second.

Common sense was pushed aside as the anxieties in your head grew stronger. It protected you as much as it harmed you. It reminded you to be aware of who you were, plaguing your thoughts with deeply rooted insecurity while simultaneously keeping you away from potential heartbreak. Deep in your bones, you felt insurmountable guilt for making Roy seem like he liked you.

Before you could even think, your legs walked you out of the bar.

— PRESENT DAY.

Roy wipes the sweat off his forehead, eyes squinting as he takes the handkerchief off his face, blinded by the bright spotlight shining on him. His gaze returns to the direction of the crowd, blinking the sunspots away for a few moments before seeing you again, still in the same position.

He reached down to grab his water bottle, taking a big gulp to moisturise his throat that dried at the sight of you. He hadn't practised what to say to you — he didn't even think you'd show up.

With a deep breath, Roy walked off the stage, pushing through the dense crowd with polite 'excuse me's. Once he was finally standing in front of you, everything seemed to be quiet. He couldn't hear the sound of the crowd, just his heart beating so hard and fast he was sure he could die of cardiac arrest right then and there.

"Hey," was the first thing he could think of. He stands motionless, his eyes looking at you with the now-familiar softness he's only used for you.

"Hi." You greeted, also not knowing what to say. Was 'Hey, my insecurities are rooted so deeply in my soul that I thought I was a terrible person for making people think we were dating. Sorry.' too straightforward? Probably.

"I'm really glad you came." He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I thought you weren't gonna show up."

"It was a last-minute decision." You replied truthfully, suddenly finding the floor to be an interesting sight.

Those words made his heart break a little. Even though you were standing here in front of him, it wasn't your initial choice. "Right," he forced a laugh to detensify the atmosphere, but nothing seemed to help. "Look, just… Let's cut to the chase and talk, can we?"

You've been dreading this. Since your arrival here was a spontaneous decision, you came unprepared, unsure of what to say to him. "Yeah. Sure. Outside?"

A tumbleweed rolls by the two of you as you stood outside the bar. Figuratively.

It's so silent you could hear each thump of your heart, thrashing against your ribcage as you waited for him to speak. Roy looks as unsure as you are, judging by his clammy hands and the way he was tapping his feet. After a full sixty-three seconds — yes, you were counting — you broke the silence. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

You should've known better; it was an extremely stupid thing to say to a man who's been suffering over the lack of your presence. Roy's mouth opens at first, but he's immediately at a loss for words. For the first time in your friendship with him, he's letting himself be angry at you. "Are you kidding me?" he sighed, crossing his arms. "Is there anything for us to talk about except for the fact you've ghosted me for an entire week?"

Embarrassment renders you unable to speak.

Roy continues, doing all he can to hold back his anger and think clearly for you. "We do everything together. Everything." He bit his lip, finding his words, "I just want to know what made you stop wanting that."

Your reaction was immediate. You finally face him, using up all your willpower to look into his eyes. "No, Roy… I want that. I do, it's just—"

"Just what? What the hell happened to you that made you stop answering all my texts? If it's me, then just tell me—"

"It's not you!" You answered, rubbing your face in frustration. "And nothing happened..."

"So tell me. Tell me why I've been ignored this entire week by the only person I care about on this stupid campus." Those words came out before he could even reconsider them, but he didn't care. For you to know just how bad your absence had affected him, you needed to know the truth.

You couldn't answer that. At least, not in a way that wouldn't have hurt him. "I… I guess I wanted you to spend less time with someone like me?"

His expression doesn't seem to change. He's still looking at you with narrowed eyes and a gaze so charged with anger it burned on your skin. "Someone like you?"

"Y'know, me. A total geek everyone laughs at? Someone who can't dress even if their life depended on it? Someone who's the literal opposite of cool?"

His look softens. It doesn't turn sympathetic — the anger remained, but there was slightly less than before. "So what, just because you feel insecure, you'd throw away everything we had? You're really gonna let your head win?" He asked, not really expecting you to answer. "I get self-sabotaging, I really do. But are you not even gonna try to fight it? For us? For me? For your own, self-proclaimed loser self?"

You slumped against the nearby wall of the building, closing your eyes. "Guess I wasn't."

He scoffed, leaning next to you. "Y'know, D&D weekends and ren faires don't make you a loser. Quitting does." He stated, uncrossing his arms. "You know I don't care, right? I genuinely don't give a single flying fuck about what people think of me. If I woke up tomorrow to people throwing tomatoes at me just because I hang out with you, I wouldn't care. You mean more to me than that."

As your eyes remained closed during the onslaught of emotions you felt at the moment, you felt the ghost of his hand next to yours. Slowly, his fingers laced with yours, holding your hand firmly — his way of saying he wasn't going to let go. "I'll hold onto you. I'm not gonna let you run away and actually become a loser who quits."

You kick his leg. He smiles.

"There you are." He hummed, pulling you closer by your intertwined hands. "My favourite person to bother."

You couldn't help but let the smile force its way on your face. Roy Harper was the only person who could ever successfully crumble down the walls you've built around yourself. It's been that way since he first met you at the house party that seemed so long ago now.

"You're the coolest person I know, y'know that?"

"Roy—'"

"You are. I love it when you talk about your campaigns or your favorite supervillains. It's cool." he murmured, those words reserved just for you. "And I think your geeky shirts are cool too. They're vintage. They suit you well."

Seeing the way you were reluctantly taking in those words, he considered his mission of convincing you to have some self confidence a success. "C'mon," he smiled, tugging you inside the building. "You need some music in your veins."

Another band had taken over the stage, playing a punky rendition of a twenty-tens love song you've heard on the radio a long time ago. In the warm, low lights of the bar, you let your eyes wander around his face. You find a few things you didn't initially notice, like the small scar on his right cheek or the small mole under his jaw, hidden in the subtle dust of orange stubble.

Rather than halting your thoughts before they had the chance to become less than platonic, you let them happen. You let yourself blush when he turns to smile at you. You let your heartstrings tug when he puts his arm around your shoulder, needing you closer.

That night, you let yourself fall for him, without thinking about yourself or the polaroid left forgotten in his car.

extra scene:

You and Roy were holding separate microphones, waiting for the lyrics to kick in. The smirk remained on his face, even when you gave him a death glare. You would've killed him if your body wasn't incapacitated by terrible stage fright.

"You areee… my fiiiireee…" He started, lips way too close to the microphone. It was unhygienic, but there wasn't much you could do when it came to Roy Harper.

"The one, deeesiiiireee…" You continued, stiff as a pole, as your eyes darted aroundthe crowd, trying your best to ignore Donna's phone trained on you and Roy.

Roy turns to you, far too excited to be singing Backstreet Boys. It was to a point where he had you genuinely wonder if he was drunk. "Believe, when I say…"

In tandem, the two of you sang. "I waaant it thaaat way."

likes & reblogs appreciated !!

stars by @/pixopix, drumsticks by @/mouseygraphics