#speedy x reader

Dick Grayson:

Dick is always touching you. You’re not even sure if he realizes it, if he even notices how his hands always wander to your body. You’re hanging out with friends and his hand is on your knee, keeping you from anxiously shaking your leg. You’re driving in his car and he’s tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the song onto your thigh. You’re waiting to get a drink at the bar and his chest is pressed entirely against your back, blocking you from the wandering eyes in the room.

He sings to you constantly. You’re in the car and your favorite song comes on and he’s singing with you, you’re at a store and he’s flashing you a grin and mumbling along to the words. He’s not a half-bad singer either, and the way he seems to mean every damn word makes you dizzy.

Jason Todd:

Jason always gets as close to you as possible, sometimes without even realizing it. If you show him something on your phone, he’s inches away from your back, head dipping into the crook of your neck to squint at your screen. If you’re going to a cafe, he’s sitting in the seat next to you, the side of his thigh touching yours.

He listens so incredibly intently to everything you say, his eyes solely focused on you. He’ll nod along and ask questions and make faces when you tell him about the drama in your personal life. Sometimes his gaze is so intense that you can’t meet his eyes, awkwardly trailing off, face burning from the attention he’s giving you. 

Tim Drake:

Tim says I love you like it’s second nature to him, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It slips out casually when you’re gaming and save him in game, tumbles off his lips when you show up to class with his favorite soda, it’s said intentionally when you correct him on something he’s wrong about. 

He’s always taking pictures of you, too. Candids of you looking out the window, walking down the street, sipping on your coffee. There’s intentional ones, too. Where he poses you, meticulously angles the camera to capture you through his own eyes. You swear you catch a glimpse of one in his wallet.

Barry Allen:

Barry always holds the door for you, no matter what. He definitely does that thing where if you pull the door open, he places his hand above your head and holds it until you’re all the way through. When he does it, all you can think about is how tall he is and how nice his forearm looks.

On the same note, he’s very subtly protective. If you lean down to grab something, he’s covering the corner of the table with his hand so you don’t bonk your head on it. If he notices your shoelace is untied, he’s bending down and tying it without thinking twice.

Hal Jordan:

Hal teaches you to play pool by putting his hands on your hips and lining up the shot for you. He tries his best to keep his hands away from anything sensitive, but just the very feeling of his warm palms on the sides of your jeans has your stomach doing somersaults.

However, whenever you touch him, he’s sucking in a breath, the tips of his ears turning pink. That sound is like music to your ears, the soundtrack of the time you’ve spent with Hal. It could be anything from you brushing his hand with yours, to you hugging him when you sink a ball in pool, and Hal reacts like that every damn time. 

Wally West:

Wally shares everything with you. He’s so casual with it, bringing his straw up to your lips so you can taste his iced coffee, or feeding you ice cream right off of his spoon without thinking about it. He’ll take sips of your drink, too, drinking out of the exact spot you had been, his lips touching where yours did.

He’s the king of casual intimacy—probably because he doesn’t think until he’s doing it, and then he’s a blushing mess. He grabs your hand to show you something, wraps his arm around you to guide you through a crowd, stands behind you in a line so closely that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

Roy Harper:

Roy shares clothes with you. He lends you his favorite sweater when it’s cold out and now that’s your sweater. You jokingly steal his hat but he never asks for it back and the next time you hang out, you’re wearing it. You leave your scarf at his place when it’s snowing and the next time you see him, nose pink and cheeks red, he’s got it wrapped around his neck.  He loves it—it’s like his secret little way of claiming you. 

He’s always helping you out in the smallest ways. He opens your water bottle before he hands it to you, holds your bag while you’re trying on clothes. Whenever you ask him for a lighter, he cups his hand over your face and lights your smoke for you while it’s in your mouth. 

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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡

You both freeze before Wally launches himself out of the bed and into the chair beside it, but it’s too late. Dick pauses, eyes darting from you, to Wally, and back. Another beat of silence, then Dick shrieks, “Why were you in bed with my sister?”

“Dick, be quiet, we’re in a hospital,” you hiss as Wally scrambles to explain, “Dick, I swear, we were—”

“When?” Dick’s voice is softer but turns sharp, cold, and you feel your stomach drop. 

“When what?” you ask. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He’s staring at Wally, whose mouth opens and closes but no words come out. 

Dick inhales deeply and then turns to you. “How long?”

“Five months.”

Dick nods, pinching the bridge of his nose and he finally says, “You know, I’m not even mad that you two are together. It’s weird to see, yeah, but I’m more angry that you two didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

You and Wally exchange glances. You both hate this, hate hurting Dick. Wally’s hand finds yours as you say, “We didn’t mean to hurt you, Dick. It’s just… we didn’t know where this was going— if it was going anywhere when this first started. We thought it would be better that no one knew, just in case nothing happened or if it ended badly, then it wouldn’t burden you or the team.”

“But you can,” Dick says. “We’re a team, I’m your brother.” He looks at Wally. “And your best friend. We share these burdens, all the good and the bad.”

“We know,” Wally pipes up. “And we should have told you but we made what we thought was the right decision at the time.” 

Dick’s silent again and Wally, voice soft and careful, says, “I really love her, man.” You’ve heard Wally say it before, say it a hundred times, and it still makes your heart flip. 

Dick considers the two of you and sighs again. “No more secrets.”

You two nod. “We promise.”

“And no making out in front of me, I don’t think my heart could take that.”

You make a face. “Trust me, Dick, neither of us want to do that.”

“Well—” You shoot Wally a glare before he can get any further and Dick snorts. You turn back to him. “Want to watch with us?”

“Sure, as long as you restart from the beginning.”

Wally groans, “Oh, come on!”

ROY HARPER

Roy’s hands are everywhere — your waist, your hips, your thighs — as the elevator ascends towards your floor. He has you pressed into the wall, your lower back pressing into the railing though your discomfort is dulled by the heat surging through your body. 

The elevator chimes and the door slides open. You nudge him away from you, and you roll your eyes playfully when you’re met with his pout. “Come on, big guy, it’ll be more comfortable in my apartment.”

Roy asks, “Sure you don’t want to just do it here?”

“Fairly certain.” You drag him out and towards your apartment, fumbling with the keys at Roy insistently nips at your neck, grip firm on your sides. 

As soon as you push the front door open, Roy’s kicking it closed. He crowds you against it, lips slotting against your again. You can’t stop the small noise that bubbles up in your throat as his tongue slips into your mouth, your hand flying to his hair.

A voice sounds from behind you, shocked and indignant. “What the fuck is this?” 

Your heart rate spikes for a second at the intrusion but you’d know the voice anywhere. The two of you separate and you spot Jason in your living room as he stands slowly out of the armchair he’d been occupying. You can’t help but shout back, “What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Jason?”

“You gave me the spare key, remember? And this isn’t about me!” Jason storms towards the two of you and you step in front of Roy as he snarls, “What the hell, Harper?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Hood, we’re all adults here,” Roy fires back.  

“She’s my sister! Of all the women in the world, you chose to fuck with her?”

“I’m not fucking around!” Roy snaps. “And don’t talk about her like she’s not here.”

Jason looks over at you. “Why him?”

“Because he’s sweet and funny and a really good kisser.” Jason makes gagging noises in response though he’s seemed to calm down from his initial reaction. 

He glances between you, sizes Roy up and sighs heavily. He levels Roy with a steely look and says, “You hurt her, and I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

“And that would be totally fair of you,” Roy says quickly, his hand cautiously coming to rest on your waist. “But I won’t.” His eyes meet Jason’s with a look that’s crystal clear: I love her.

Jason’s scowl stays on his face but his shoulder has dropped and his body relaxes. “Fine.” He turns on his heels, stalking off your hallway. When you call after him, asking where he’s going, Jason replies, “To bleach my eyes.”

CONNER KENT

Tim feels like shit. He hasn’t been able to kick the bout of flu he received while on a mission up in Maine, sniffling and coughing and suffering through body aches. He swears he’d rather take a kick from Bane than ever feel like this again. What’s worse is that, mentally, he’s fine — sharp as ever — but physically, he can barely stand without getting dizzy. 

Bruce forbade him from going on patrol tonight, for everyone’s sake. Tim knows he’s one sneeze away from Damian strangling him with his cape, as he so vividly described to Tim. Alfred’s on duty downstairs in case Tim thinks about sneaking out to do work or down to the Cave but honestly, Tim doesn’t think he can make it to the door. So, here he is, stuck in his bedroom, huddled under mountains of blankets and tissues. His laptop is propped on his legs, and he’s been passively watching shows and movies. 

After getting bored of whatever crime drama he had been mentally picking-apart, Tim clicks out of the streaming service and onto a different application. He had wired into the Manor’s security system so that he could monitor the common areas from his room if he pleased. He’s gotten some good blackmail material on nearly everyone, from Dick drinking milk straight from the carton and putting it back, to Jason and Damian rough-housing and breaking a centuries-old vase and then blaming it on some freak accident, to Bruce tripping over the foyer rug when he was half-asleep. Tim’s got receipts at his disposal for strategic deployment when need be.

He flips through each room. Nothing really exciting given that everyone is out. The Cave is empty, the hallways are empty. The most interesting thing is that Alfred seems to have dozed off on the sofa while watching something on Masterpiece Theater. 

Tim’s about to close out of the feed until he sees movement on the front porch. He doesn’t look in time to see but it’s easy to follow whoever it is into the foyer. Tim’s body, despite the aches and pains, winds itself tight, ready to race downstairs and strike. Two figures come into focus. 

Tim sees you first, draped in a leather jacket that looks too familiar. He frowns. You had told everyone that you would be out of town for the weekend so you couldn’t go on patrol. And yet, here you are at the Manor. 

You’re speaking to the other person just out of frame but soon, they come into focus. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and a shit-eating grin. Tim blinks at the screen once, twice, because it can’t be his best friend. It can’t be Conner Kent, who’s smiling at you like that. 

Tim’s fingers move on their own, pressing a button to turn on sound. You’re speaking softly, but the state-of-the-art microphones catch everything with ease. “Everyone should be out, except Alfred, and he knows,” you tell Conner as you slip your shoes off.

“That’s good, ‘cause I’ve been waiting all night to do this.” Then, with abject horror, Tim watches as his best friend pulls you in by the waist and kisses you. On the mouth. With passion. 

Maybe if he was feeling better, he would have thrown open his door and flown down the stairs to confront the two of you directly. Maybe he would have yelled at Conner because you’re his sister. Maybe he would have argued with you because that’s his best friend. Instead, Tim clicks another button, leans close to his computer so the mics pick up sound loudly and clearly, and mentally apologizes to Alfred for waking him up. 

“You know there are cameras all over the Manor, right?”

BONUS: DAMIAN’S THOUGHTS ON YOUR BOYFRIEND

WALLY WEST

Damian doesn’t get it. You’re intelligent and capable, and yet you chose Grayson’s goofy friend — Wally West, Kid Flash — who can never sit still, makes horrendous jokes and who sometimes (and only within Dick’s eye and earshot) calls Damian “kiddo” and ruffles his hair before sprinting off at the speed of light. Still, he supposes that because he’s Grayson’s friend, he could be… acceptable. 4/10, and that’s very generous. 

ROY HARPER

How could you have chosen someone who looks disheveled half the time and chooses to willingly hang out with Todd? He’s far too chaotic and reckless to be deserving of you, his beautiful and talented older sister. Damian’s still wracking his brain for a reason… did you lose a bet? Is Harper paying you? At least he has a car and a mortgage. 2/10.

CONNER KENT 

Damian believes that anyone who associates with Drake should stay far away from you, much less hold your hand and kiss you and take you on dates. He can’t believe that Drake’s arrogant, hot-headed friend is the object of your affection. He’ll have to speak with Drake about keeping his unworthy friends away from you in the future. To Damian, the only redeeming quality about Conner Kent is that Jon likes him. 1/10. 

“Fuck me,” Roy muttered, his hands came to rest on your shoulders. You leaned back into his embrace, and a soft, happy sigh escaped you.

“Later, when they leave,” you promised. At that, Damian lunged, and Jason followed to grab the seething 13-year-old before he stabbed the archer.  

Roy’s breath caught, mostly from your words. The threat of death was nothing compared to how vocal and affectionate you were being. “Not what I meant,” he told you. Your brows furrowed, and you turned so you were face-to-face. Or in this case, face to chest. 

“Damian, chill the hell—” 

“Unhand me, Todd!"

“Oh. Too bold?” you asked Roy while paying your brothers no mind. 

He tilted his head, and a red strand fell against his forehead. “In front of those two? Yeah.” 

Heat thrummed under your veins as your eyes trailed his biceps that strained against the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fine, I’ll take you on a date first.” You swayed a bit. All your thoughts were consumed by the man with really nice arms. 

You briefly wondered what other nice body parts he had.  

At your words, Roy’s lips parted, and both brows rose in surprise. He assumed it was the alcohol filling your head with lust, but now you're talking about something real. 

You're not messing with me, are you, trouble?” His voice was low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. 

“No, I'm very serious about this date that will take place in my bed,” you slurred your words.

His lips twitched upward in amusement.

Not even the loud crash that sounded through the room managed to tear his gaze away. 

“Jesus—the little shit bit me!” Jason yelled a bit hysterically. 

“He will never have my blessing” Damian said dismissively.

“How ‘bout this?” Roy said to you. “I take you out to dinner wherever you like, then you can take me “out” to your bed. Sound good?” 

You perked up as Jason sputtered.

“Harper—"

“I’d love that.” You grinned. “But we have to seal the deal with a kiss.” 

Roy looked at Damian and Jason warily, both of them lying on the floor from their fight. Jason looked far too eager to unleash Damian if Roy touched you. 

“…maybe later.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you eyes like he’s already halfway gone on the smell of your skin alone.

“I think about your pussy when I’m brushing my teeth. When I’m stuck in traffic. When I’m trying to fall asleep and you’re not next to me. Not even in a horny way half the time. Just… I miss how you taste. How you smell when you’re warm and relaxed and a little sweaty. Like I could bury my face there for an hour and still not get enough. Like it’s the only place I ever feel completely fucking calm.”

You let your nails drag lightly down the back of his neck, watching goosebumps ripple across his shoulders.

“So you’re saying,” you drawl, letting the words stretch, “you want blanket permission to drop to your knees and worship me like I’m your personal religion… whenever the urge hits.”

His throat bobs. “Yeah.”

“And you’re promising it’s not code for ‘I want to use you as a cum-dump twenty-four-seven’.”

“Jesus, no.” He actually sounds offended on your behalf. “I don’t want to use you. I want to… tend to you. Breathe you. Taste how wet you get just because I’m there. Feel you get slick and swollen under my tongue until you’re shaking and pulling my hair and cursing me out in that pretty voice you use when you’re trying not to come yet.”

You roll your hips once—slow, barely there—just enough to remind him how close he already is to exactly what he’s begging for.

He groans low, forehead dropping to your collarbone like he’s praying.

“You’re evil,” he mutters.

“I’m evil?” You laugh softly, tugging his head back by the hair so he has to meet your eyes again. “You’re the one asking for a lifetime all-access pass to my cunt like it’s a gym membership. I’m just making sure the terms are clear.”

Roy’s mouth twitches.

“Terms are whatever you say they are,” he says, voice rough. “I just… I need you to know it’s not casual. It’s not ‘I’m horny so open your legs’. It’s...” He searches for the word, cheeks going darker. “It’s devotion. Okay? I’m fucking devoted to the way you taste. To the way you smell when you’ve been walking around all day in those little lace things you think I don’t notice. To the way you drip down my chin and still let me keep going until my jaw hurts. That’s what I’m asking for. Not a quick fuck. Not even just sex. Just… you. On my tongue. Whenever I’m lucky enough that you say yes.”

You study him for a long beat: his wrecked expression, the way his pupils are blown, the faint tremor in his fingers where they grip your thighs.

Then you lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Say please again,” you whisper.

His breath catches.

“Please,” he rasps, dragging the word out like it costs him something precious. “Please, baby… let me taste you. Let me live between your thighs whenever you’ll have me. I’ll beg nicer if that’s what you want. I’ll beg ugly. Just don’t make me stop wanting it.”

You smile against his jaw.

“Good boy,” you murmur.

Then you slide your hand down, cupping him through his sweats feeling how hard he is, how he twitches at the lightest pressure and you finally give him the permission he’s been dying for.

“Take what you’re obsessed with, then. But you’re gonna make me come at least twice before you even think about coming yourself.”

Roy’s eyes flutter shut like you just handed him salvation.

“Deal,” he breathes.

And then he’s already sliding down, reverent, starving, like a man finally allowed to kneel at the altar he’s been praying to for months.

[Roy]

“Arsenal,”

“Really?” Roy raised a brow, “Arsenal,”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t say he was expecting that but it’s a pleasant surprise.

“Yeah. He’s hot. Like really hot. Ruggedly handsome,”

“You got a thing for red-heads, Y/n?” Jason was teasing Roy more than you.

“Maybe,” you played coy, “the muscles don’t hurt either,”

Roy lifted the mug of beer to his mouth, trying not to look smug. He works hard, so why shouldn’t his partner appreciate him both in and out? If anything, this just proves to him that he’s good at what he does.

“Seriously though, have you seen his hands? The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. And you know after decades of archery, he knows exactly how to curl those two fingers—“

Roy spit the beer right back into the mug, sputtering. You smirked.

“But you know he’s gotta be incredibly skilled with other things too. I mean he’s been on how many hero teams now? And that sweaty baseball cap gives him such sexy handyman vibe, you know what I’m saying?” you patted your man’s arm, “Like you, Roy,”

“Just like you, Roy,” Dick was way too happy to tease him.

Roy’s face was redder than his hair at this point, “Shut UP, Dickhead,”

“Look boys I’m just saying,” you paused for a second to bite your lip before dishing out the killing blow, “Arsenal could put his arrow in my sheathe any day,”

“Oh my god..” you heard your boyfriend whimper next to you, hand over his face in exasperation. Goal Achieved.

“He’s so scrappy, he’s so sexy—“

“Oh Kay,” Roy interrupted you, springing up, “I think it’s time for another person to have their turn at this game,”

The whole table laughed. Laughing at his misery. Horrible, horrible friends he has.

“It’s okay, Babe,” you patted his bicep as you melted back into him, “You’re still my favorite red-headed muscle hunk. No one could ever replace you, Roy G. Biv,”

He scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes. Fine. Arsenal’s gonna be putting his arrow in your sheathe alright. He wasn’t just gonna let you get away with this, even if you didn’t really know the extent of what you were doing. And he can’t lie, your compliments look good on him.

But he’s gotta get through this night first.

“How bout you, Jason?” Roy tried turning this on the guy who started the whole thing, his asshole best friend.

“Oh I pick Arsenal too,” Jason answered without hesitation.

Roy just glared at him and his stupid shit-eating grin. You cracked up.

You know, Jason’s pretty funny. Maybe you’ll tell him first so you two can collaborate on a plan to prank tell Roy you know about his vigilante life. No way Jason won’t be down for that.

You reached up and gave Roy a kiss on the jaw. He didn’t say anything, but he looked down at you, face softening from annoyance into something much more loving. He pressed a quick kiss to your nose before rejoining the conversation which was now apparently about how hot Tim thought Steven Yeun was. Yeah, it’s gonna be good night.

[Wally]

“The Flash,”

Wally narrowed his eyes as he turned in his seat to face you, “Which Flash?”

“Uh, Keystone, obviously,”

“Phew,” Wally let out the breath he was holding, “good,”

He returned to the mug of beer that didn’t do anything for his hummingbird metabolism to try and play it cool.

You feined irritation, “why? What’s wrong with Central Flash?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he put up his hands in a placating motion, “he’s just not as young as Keystone. Or as hot as Keystone. Or as cool as Keystone. Or—“

“Oh, do you want to make this a threesome?” you deadpanned as Wally balked, “I didn’t think you’d have such strong opinions on which Flash I’d want to fuck.”

“I… Don’t.”

“Really? So you have no problem with me making sweet love to that handsome Central City Flash? No problem at all?”

Wally felt his eye twitch. He was 90% sure you were purposefully messing with him now… Which meant something he wasn’t really ready to unpack right here at the table in front of god and every nosy civilian in the pub.

“No,” he said through gritted teeth, “not at all”

Dick leaned forward, “Psst, hey Y/n, do you want Central Flash’s number?” he staged whispered to you, “I uh— he worked with us at the Blüd PD for a case, see,”

“Oh, yeah, I remember. You told me all about that,” Roy added with a wink, “He’s such a great guy, Y/n. You should totally take Dick up on this,”

“I’m not talking to either of you ever again,” Wally stated very seriously as he possessively pulled you closer to him.

You chuckled, “Thanks, but I’ll pass, Dick—”

Wally loosened his grip on you in relief.

“Not unless you have Keystone’s number too. I was just joking about Central but I’m serious about Keystone,” you giggled as Wally squeaked.

“Oh what’s so great about him, huh?” Wally huffed in annoyance.

Wait, is he getting jealous of himself right now?

You looked at him, not missing the flush on his freckled cheeks or the little pinch in his expression as he pointedly looked away from you. Oh my god, he’s actually getting jealous of himself right now. Jesus, he’s adorable.

“Keystone’s just the sweetest, okay? He saved me from Weather Wizard last week and he was so sweet and funny,”

Yeah, Wally remembers that. Which also reminded him that you’re talking about him right now. Suddenly, he’s feeling a little silly.

“He carried me bridal style, and took me really far away from the battle downtown, and he even gave me a kiss on the cheek before he ran off!”

Okay, now Dick was a little more interested, “Did he now?”

Shit. Okay so he thinks he knows how you found out. Oopsies.

Wally straightened up in his seat. If Dick brings it up later, he’ll will just tell him the truth, that he loves and trusts you enough that he doesn’t think this is a big deal. Or a deal at all. This relationship was starting to get serious anyway, might as well take the leap.

“He did, no lie,” you laughed as you pressed your face back into your boyfriend’s bicep, “But I’m kidding, really. I don’t want either of their numbers,” you looked back up at the red-headed red-faced boy you were cuddling, “I just want Wally,”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

[Kon]

“Superboy!”

“Superboy?” Kon fake coughed, “I mean, Superboy?”

He didn’t sound any more nonchalant. You grinned.

“I’m sorry Conner, I have a type,” you dramatically brushed your hair back, “and it’s boys who’re jacked and kind,”

“I thought it was ‘bad boys’”

“Seriously?” you rolled your eyes, “A punked out leather jacket and fingerless gloves don’t make him a bad boy. He saves kittens from trees, for fuck’s sake,”

“You can like kittens and still be a bad boy,” he gestured to make his point, “I like kittens,”

“You’re not a bad boy either, Conner,”

He put his hand on his chest, making a horribly exaggerated wounded noise. You giggled and gave his shoulder an affectionate headbutt, like the aforementioned kittens.

“It’s fine, Babe. Bad boys aren’t sexy. You know what’s sexy? Compassion,”

“Oh my God,” Kon rolled his eyes with his whole head, “you got anymore lines straight from a youth pastor’s mouth?” he teased you.

You put your hand up in a hear me out gesture, “I’m just saying. I don’t just want to fuck his sexy body, I want to fuck his sexy soul,”

“Pfft,” he shook his head, “Okay Y/n,”

“Plus…” you bit your lip, “Who knows what kind of.. creative things we could get up to with that telekinesis stuff he’s got…”

You heard Tim choke on his drink and start laughing. Conner flushed next to you. He doesn’t fluster easily, so this is a rare treat.

“Oh, trust me, he can,” Tim wiggled his eyebrows.

“That’s right, you dated him for like a week, didn’t you?”

No, the paparazzi just caught Kon bringing Tim a latte one morning while in his Superboy gear and the tabloids went wild. They had to stage a fake breakup and everything. After that whole fiasco, Kon learned to be a lot more sneaky with his coffee deliveries. Which has come in handy while dating you, of course.

“See, Tim agrees with me, it’s so hot,” you teased, “Wait, Tim, do you still talk to him? Can you get me a date?”

Tim smirked wickedly like the good friend he was, “Oh I can totally set you guys up,”

“Sweet,”

“Well, that’s Too Bad, Y/n,” Kon pulled his arm out of your grasp to cross them over his chest, “because, as you have said, Superboy is a great guy, who would not want to help you cheat on your boyfriend with him,”

“Hmmm. You’re right…” you said with mock thoughtfulness, “I guess I’ll just have to break up with you first. Just shoot off a quick ‘we’re over’ text as soon as me and Superboy meet,”

“What—”

“I’m sorry Conner, but who am I to let my boyfriend stop me from meeting my husband?”

“Wait…“

Kon just stared at you blankly. You held a straight face for as long as you could.

“…I can’t tell if you’re actually considering leaving me for Superboy right now,” he said in astonishment.

And you broke. Conner was smiling too now, because that awful snort laughter you thought was ugly? He thought was the most adorable thing in the world.

“No Baby,” you pulled him back into your embrace, “I wouldn’t leave you for anyone. Not even Superboy,”

“Pinky promise,” he smirked as he held up his pinky.

“Pinky promise,” you hooked your pinky with his.

And then used your other hand to grab his face and shove your tongue down his throat. Conner responded in kind.

“UGH GUYS. REALLY?” Dick squawked across the table.

Kon flipped him off, not leaving your lips. He didn’t really care if they saw or if fucking Nightwing had anything to say about it. Because yeah, he’s kind of a bad boy, no matter what you say.

And you know what? Maybe he’ll make your dreams reality tonight. Even the weird tk ones. It wasn’t called tactile telekinesis for nothing.

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