✨

Bart Allen x Batsis!reader

WC: 4.5 K

Beta-reader: @vee08

Request: Actually if u can make a one shot were (bat!)reader is starting to have a crush on him without realizing he's too crushing in her and vice versa, while everyone know but them!!

A/N: I got a bit side tracked halfway while writing and deviated just a lil from the original plot. Hope that’s okay! And I’m so so sorry for the wait <3

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You're draped across the couch as dramatically as possible, one arm thrown over your eyes, the other dangling off the edge.

The team's scattered around, gearing up, and every single one of them has made a point of rubbing in your benched status.

“I just think,” Gar starts, already grinning like he knows he’s about to say something annoying, “that maybe this is a natural consequence of your actions.”

You feel a hot rush of irritation spread from your chest outward. You lift your arm just enough to glare at him from beneath it. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m serious,” he says, holding both hands up. “If you hadn’t tried to see what happens when you microwave a power core–”

“It was not a power core.” You snap back, holding yourself back from sitting up and explaining your little experiment in detail.

“It exploded like a power core.”

“It was a battery.” You try to fill your words with as violent intentions as possible, warning him that you will throw something at him.

To your dismay, he hardly seems affected by your tone, even laughing in response "You blew a hole in two walls, Wayne."

“Whatever!” You huff and drop your arm back over your face. “The room needed another window anyway.”

Cassie snorts from across the room, not even bothering to hide it as she adjusts her mental gauntlets. “Tell that to the repair crew.”

Your arm rips away from your face as you turn to look at her, betrayed, but before you can even start to defend yourself, Jaime buts in, leaning over the back of the couch to look at you. “I think it’s sweet.”

“No–” Your eyes narrow almost immediately, one hand already dragging the throw pillow out from behind your head. “I know you’re about to be a prick.”

“I think it’s sweet,” he ducks with a laugh, the pillow sailing just over his head and smacking harmlessly against the wall behind him, “--that you’re so committed to science. It’s nice to see you get in trouble for once.”

“Ha ha.” You say flatly. “Fuck you, Jaime.”

Bart's half-laughing along with the others, his eyes keep lingering on your face a seemingly permanent smile on his face. As usual, he’s not too far from you.

Cassie sighs at you before grinning, leaning into Gar. “Remember when she built that tiny drone swarm and released it into the vents?”

You sit up halfway, pointing at her defensively. “They were supposed to map the air ducts.”

Jaime raises a brow, pulling away from the couch. “One of them watched me sleep.”

You pause for a second, your hand slowly dropping to the couch. “Okay,” you say much more quietly, “well, it wasn’t supposed to do that.”

Gar breaks first, laughing loud enough that he has to turn away, while Cassie presses her lips together, but her shoulders give her away almost immediately.

Even you feel your mouth twitch despite yourself. But then you catch Bart smiling with an almost fond look in your direction.

You feel your chest tighten immediately, your face heating up to the point that you feel like fanning yourself.

You have to pinch yourself under your sleeve to stop a small squeak from escaping when his gaze meets you. Instead, you instantly flop back down onto the couch and pretend to be dying again.

That’s been a new development as of late. The little flutter in your chest whenever you notice you have his attention.

It’s annoying, almost detrimental to your health at this point.

But still, you always find yourself looking his way when anything happens. Something funny? You glance at him to see if he laughs. Something scary? Your eyes are on him before you can even stop yourself from flinching.

No matter the mood, you somehow always manage to meet his gaze, because he’s already looking at you first.

You press your eyes shut for a moment, grateful that everyone had long since moved closer to the door and that you weren’t facing anyone directly.

You try to will your heart to slow down.

You’re a Wayne. You cannot be this hung up over a boy…

A really cute, caring, sweet, considerate, ridiculously funny, absolutely perfect boy–

You’re not sure whether or not you should be grateful when your pain-in-the-ass brother decides to get involved.

“I just don’t get how half your experiments end up that messy,” he says, tone dry. “At this point, it’s almost impressive. Like you’re trying to make Batman take away your lab again.”

Of course, that sets off a domino effect, which you promptly decide that you’re very much not grateful at all.

Gar brings up the smoke bomb incident. Cassie mentions the training sim glitch that locked everyone into a twenty-minute loop of fighting holographic ninjas.

Jaime adds the time you “improved” the comm system and accidentally made everyone’s voices come out in different pitches for an hour.

It’s all lighthearted with no genuine ill intent behind any of it. Even you can admit some of your little experiments and gadgets have a tiny, barely noticeable tendency to go south.

But Bart catches what the others are too slow to see.

The flicker of your gaze, the way your fingers curl slightly into the couch cushions and the most heart-wrenching for him, the little pout of your lip into a genuine frown.

His grin falters almost instantly. A tight, uncomfortable feeling bubbles up in his chest on your behalf.

He hates seeing you sad.

It’s stupid how much he hates it. It’s why he spent weeks figuring out which jokes actually made you laugh instead of just rolling your eyes.

Why he mentally categorized every little thing that earned him a real smile from you. Or why, making you laugh so hard you snorted, had basically given him enough energy to run across all seven seas.

He sees you shift, sitting up a little, already reaching for something mean enough to throw back at Tim.

Something that will make everyone laugh and make him regret opening his mouth, but there is a little insecure hesitation that stretches less than a millisecond, but is more than enough for him.

"C'mon, that's not fair." His voice cuts through the laughter silencing them.

He straightens a little, hands moving as he talks “She’s the reason the training sim actually works now.”

His eyes flick toward you for half a second before moving back to the others. “And that frequency dampener she built gave us the leverage we needed on the last mission.”

The team's reaction is instantaneous, Gar’s grin fades into something more curious, Tim’s brows lift, and Jaime looks between you and Bart, clearly beginning to enjoy the new direction of the conversation.

Bart shrugs; his ears are already red, but his mouth keeps going. “So she blew two holes in a wall. Big deal. Walls get rebuilt. The stuff she makes actually helps people.”

A beat passes, and his voice softens just slightly. “She’s good at it. Really good.”

You look at him before you can stop yourself, surprise cutting through the embarrassment still sitting tight in your chest.

“I’m just saying,” he adds quickly, gaze darting away. “Maybe give her some credit.”

The silence that follows is immediate and awful. But then Cassie’s mouth curves slowly.

“Well,” she says, amused. “Damn, Allen.”

His face goes scarlet, and that should probably be enough to make you leave him alone. Unfortunately for him, it has the exact opposite effect.

The pout melts off your face like it was never there, replaced by something warm and almost giddy that you don’t even try to hide.

A smile spreads across your lips as you push yourself to face him, far too interested in the way Bart is looking everywhere except at you.

“You,” you say, pointing at Bart, “are my new favourite Bart.”

Bart’s eyes snap back to you, his expression brightens in a way that makes your chest pull tight, pleased and startled and trying so badly to play it off.

“Oh, crash, really?” he says, already shifting on his feet as he needs somewhere to put all that sudden energy. “That’s funny, because you’re my favourite you.”

Your smile falters for half a second, as a new type of heat crawls up your neck before you can stop it, and you suddenly become very aware of the fact that everyone is still standing there, watching you get flustered in real time.

“Aw,” you say, a little quieter than you mean to. Your smile turns softer before you can stop it. “Thanks, Bart.”

Jaime’s grin sharpens immediately, and before Bart can even begin to process why the energy in the room has shifted, he claps a hand onto his shoulder and starts steering him toward the Zeta tube. “C’mon, lover boy. Save the flirting for after we save the city.”

Bart’s head whips toward him a whispered hiss escaping him. “I’m not flirting.”

Gar snickers, already heading toward the tube. “Sure.”

“C’mon, guys,” Cassie says, still laughing under her breath. “Let’s give the favourites some space before this gets painful.”

Bart looks like he wants to argue, but Jaime keeps walking him backwards. Still, Bart twists just enough to look back at you over his shoulder. You only lift your brows at him, fighting back a smile that is becoming harder and harder to hide.

His mouth opens like he’s about to say something else, but Jaime gives his shoulder a firm shove toward the Zeta tube before he can get the chance.

“Mission first,” Jaime reminds him.

Bart huffs, then disappears from Jaime’s grip in a flicker of red and yellow, stepping cleanly out of the beam just as it flashes.

The rest of the team vanishes without him, their complaints cutting off mid-sentence as the Zeta tube sends them away.

Bart rolls his eyes, muttering something about everyone acting like he can’t catch up in, like, three seconds.

Before you can even process the fact that he stayed behind, he’s suddenly in front of the couch again, standing a little too close with that bright, restless smile on his face.

“Ice cream,” he blurts.

You blink up at him. “What?”

“To make up for you being benched,” he says quickly. “You and me. After the mission. That place with the weird flavours.”

Your brows lift, and the corner of your mouth twitches despite yourself. “You ditched the team for ice cream?”

“No,” Bart says, “For you, I mean. I know you’re bummed, and everyone’s being annoying about it, so…” His eyes flick over your face for half a second before darting away again. “Wanted to cheer you up.”

Your teasing response gets caught somewhere in your throat, and you quickly look down at the pillow still sitting in your lap, fingers curling lightly into the fabric before shyly looking back at him. “Ice cream would help.”

Bart’s shoulders drop, all the tension vanishing from him so fast it almost looks like relief. “Crash. Mission first, then ice cream.”

He finger guns at you as he starts backing toward the Zeta Tube again, a grin returning in full force now that he has something to do with all that nervous energy. “I’ll come find you after?”

“Yeah,” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I might be napping when you get back, though. Nothing else to do since Dick took away my server access.”

“Gotcha. Beauty sleep makes sense since you’re so pret– ” He cuts himself off so abruptly his mouth stays open for half a second. “You’re… you know what? I hear Tim cussing me out right now, so I should go.”

You blink at him. “But you don’t have super hea-–”

“Speedster hearing,” he says immediately as he steps backward into the Zeta Tube, still facing you, “it’s a new thing– just realized I had it.”

Before you can question him further, the light swallows him. The second he’s gone, you collapse backward into the couch with a strangled noise.

Oh my god.

Was he flirting with you? No. Surely not. Bart smiles at everyone. Even told a vending machine it was the love of his life once because it gave him two bags of chips by accident.

This was just Bart being Bart.

You let out a sigh as you stare up at the ceiling, cheeks still warm, mouth twitching despite yourself.

Just Bart

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The next time you open your eyes, you’re not on the couch anymore. For a second, you just lie there, confused and heavy with sleep, trying to piece together how you got here… Right, after lying on the couch for another 30 minutes, you made your way to your room to nap.

You turn your head, staring at your window to find you hadn’t bothered to close the blinds and pause, seeing the sun up. A bit too high up to be the same day.

You sit up too fast, a hand going to clutch your head as the room spins at the motion. Still, you reach with your free hand for your phone is on the nightstand.

No messages or missed calls.

The disappointment hits hard enough that you lie back down, turning onto your side, opening and closing Bart’s contact.

The last message was him sending a stupid TikTok video, which you reacted to with a vomiting emoji.

You try to reason with yourself that maybe he is just exhausted after the mission and just crashed. He’d probably wake up any moment now and come speeding your way with apologies.

Except… He doesn’t.

The entire day passes without a word from him, or even any sign of him at all.

At first, you try to be reasonable about it, maybe it was just something casual and in the moment, and he forgot. It happens, it’s not like it was a date. It kinda confirms that it was just something small.

Or maybe something went wrong?

It bothers you enough that you corner Cassie in the hallway where she stands texting someone. You walk up normally to her, looming into her sight of line, making her flinch, having not noticed you approach.

You stare at her, and she stares back a bit confused but surprisingly not disturbed by you before you blurt out, “Is Bart dead?”

Cassie’s brows furrow as she clicks off her phone to give you her full attention. “What?”

“Do not what me. Is he dead? Injured? Kidnapped? Blink twice if Tim told you not to tell me. And three times if it was my dad.”

Cassie’s mouth twitches, which makes your press into a flat, suspicious line. “He’s fine.”

Hearing the word fine was enough to make you pause and not protest her walking past you with a hum. Because if he’s fine, then that means he actually forgot about the plans you had. Your immediate next response was annoyance.

Standing you up? Sure, it wasn’t a date and sure, maybe you were wrong about the flirty connotations you convinced yourself weren’t there.

But this was just fucking rude. You turn on your heel, intent on finding him and giving him a piece of your mind.

However, you soon find that maybe there’s more to the situation because Bart Allen has the subtlety of a fire alarm.

The first time you see him after the mission, he spots you from across the hall, goes completely still, makes a noise like a dying barn owl, and vanishes in a blur.

The second time, you catch him near the kitchen. He looks at you, drops an entire protein bar, says, “I need to make my bed!” and runs away before you can blink.

The third time, he nearly vibrates through a wall.

Obviously, something is wrong, and everyone knows what it is except you.

Which pisses you off more than you can fathom, especially because you still don’t have server access, meaning you can’t even check the mission report yourself to see if it’s correlated.

This goes on for three days total before you cave and seek out someone as your last resort. You watch unamused, leaning against the wall while Tim finishes a set of pull-ups.

He drops from the bar with practiced ease, landing lightly before reaching for a towel. He wipes his face, not looking at you, but you see the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re enjoying this,” you accuse.

Tim shrugs, throwing his nasty towel at you. “A little.”

You scoff, batting his towel to the ground before it can hit you as you make your way to him. “What happened?”

“With what?” He replied, unscrewing his water bottle to take a greedy, fatass gulp from it.

“Do not play stupid with me, Drake. I will actually kill you.”

That gets the tiniest smile out of him as he shifts his weight to one leg, tilting his head at you, prompting you to continue.

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. “What happened with Bart? Why has he been avoiding me for three days, and why does everyone keep looking at me like I’m missing some massive joke?”

Tim studies you for a moment before hhe sighs. “He got hit with truth serum.”

You blink almost dumbly, out of all things you didn’t expect that. “What?”

“Klarion,” Tim says, tossing the towel into the hamper. “Long story. Zatanna said it would take four days to fully wear off.”

Your brows pull together. “So he’s avoiding me because he’s worried he’ll blurt out something embarrassing?”

His mouth twitches, and you want to hit him. “He’s avoiding you because he already embarrassed himself in front of the whole team. He’s probably trying not to do it in front of you, too.”

Now that sparks your interest immediately as the nosy little sister you are, “What did he say?”

“That’s between him, his dignity and everyone else on the team but you.” He stretches nonchalantly reaching above his head, closing his eyes.

“Tim.”

He cracks an eye open dropping his arms. “What?”

“He ran away from me twice today.”

Tim’s smile finally breaks through. “Yeah. He did.”

You take one step toward him. “Timothy.”

He points at you. “Careful, Dick talked to you about being aggressive with me.”

“I will get more aggressive.”

He just laughs walking past you, patting your shoulder once “One more day. Then he’ll be outside your door on his knees."

“Tim-.” You try to grab his arm but miss

He keeps walking, you swear he even starts to speed walk.

“Tim!”

“Good luck,” he calls over his shoulder with a shit eating grin before he disappears out the door, leaving you alone with nothing but your irritation, curiosity, and a horrible, burning case of FOMO.

For several seconds, you just stand there. Partly planning Tim’s slow painful murder and on the other hand being haunted by whatever truth Bart is so desperate to hide from you.

You take a deep breath in- you should just let it go. I mean it’s not the end of the world if you don’t know right?

…

Wrong.

You immediately start moving, you’re going to find that speedy fuck even if it kills you.

The issue is making sure he doesn’t run from you. Which is a bit difficult considering the whole speedster thing he has going on.

You start peering into different rooms trying to think. Maybe you could grab a power dampener cuff.

But that’s just a bit extreme- and you also have to get close enough to put it on him so that’s out the window.

You could send him a text threatening to tell your dad… and your dad would probably laugh at you and everyone knows it. Okay next idea.

You pause as you turn a corner as it suddenly comes to you.

…He always catches you.

Whether it be during training, a small mishap in the kitchen or on a mission when you’d otherwise fall to your certain death. Bart is there before anyone else can blink.

A mischievous grin crosses your face as a plan forms. You’ll fake a fall and he’ll have no choice but to catch you, and then you’ll attack.

You eventually hear his voice coming from one of the training stimulation rooms.

You creep up the stairwell slowly, keeping your footsteps light, and peer through the glass just enough to see inside.

Bart is pinned near the railing. Jaime stands on one side, arms crossed, wearing a smirk while Gar stands on the other, phone in hand, recording with the shameless glee.

Bart looks more flustered than ever before. His ears are red with his hands opening and closing at his sides.

“C’mon, Bart,” Gar says, his voice almost sugar sweet. “Just one more question.”

Bart shakes his head very fast. “Nope. No. I already told you five things. Five is a lot of things.”

Jaime tilts his head. “This one’s important.”

“No, it’s not.” Bart insists desperately

“It is,” Gar insists, phone still raised. “Out of everyone on the team who would you make out with if you had to pick one?”

Barts eyes go wide, panicked. One hand flies up to cover his mouth a muffled name coming out.

Jaime raises an eyebrow. “Oh come on, don’t be a pussy, Allen.”

Gar’s grin widens. “We already know. Just say it for the camera”

Bart’s grip tightens on the railing, part of you feels bad but the other part is more than aware Bart could easily run away if he really wanted to.

You have the urge to stay hidden and hear what his answer is. But you’re also anxious and you’re not so sure why.

Maybe there’s is even a tiny part that hopes he says uour name? The idea hits hard enough to make your stomach twist.

You’re not in the mood to unpack what that can be. You shake it off focussing back on your goal of cornering him yourself as you reveal yourself..

“Hey, guys,” you say casually just as Jaime repeats the question to Bart. “What are we-”

Your foot catches on absolutely nothing and you stumble forward harder than expected, arms flailing, the floor suddenly rushing up to meet you.

Then suddenly you’re upright, hands catch your waist and you hear your name suddenly blurted out.

Bart is in front of you, fingers curled securely around your sides. He looks happy to see you, and you can only mirror his smile.

“You caught me,” you say and you see the truth serum pull at him. “Ill always catch you,” he says, voice strained.

Then He clamps his mouth shut. Eyes widening just a fraction as if he’s just processing the girl he’s been avoiding is in his arms.

Before he let you go and run away again, you grab the front of his shir and yank him closer.“Oh no, you don’t.”

Bart tenses, his eyes widen looking slightly panicked. Behind him, Gar lets out a low whistle lifting his phone in your direction while jaime leans to watch through the camera.

You ignore them completely and tighten your grip on Bart’s collar. “You and I are going to have a little chat speedy.”

Bart stammers his eyes darting toward the door. Jaime casually shifts to block it and you make a mental note in your head to treat him to ice coffee.

Bart eyes narrow slightly at his friend before looking back at you and swallowing. “Maybe later? Big fan of later, like tomorrow or the after to be safe-.”

“Nope.” You lean closer. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

His mouth snaps shut again his teeth digging into his bottom lip and he looks physically pained.

You hear Gar mutter something to Jaime along th lines of not having seen Bart hold back this long.

You soften your voice, just slightly, because beneath the annoyance you’re beginning to feel a bit guilting for prying.

“You know I have FOMO, Bart,” you say, trying to sound joking. “Everyone seems to know what’s going on except me.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and something complicated flashes across his face.

“I thought we were friends,” you add, quieter maybe you can try for a faux guilt trip? That always gets him to laugh.

Bart’s face crumples and you straighten, this must be it! finally you’ll get to hear-

“I don’t want to just be friends with you.”

Your fingers loosen on his collar as the rushed out words barely register in your mind.

‘I don’t want to be friends with you.’

The observation deck goes dead silent immediately, Bart’s eyes widen in instant horror, but the words keep coming, “I haven’t wanted to for a long time.”

You blink hard before your hands fall away completely.

“What?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “You don’t mean that.”

Bart shakes his head hard, panic splitting across his face his voice cracking. “No- I do- I mean, I do- fuck, I- being called your friend drives me insane.”

“Okay,” Gar says quickly, all amusement gone. “That’s enough dude.”

Jaime moves forward too, expression sharpening with concern. “Bart.”

Bart backs away, one hand clamped over his own mouth, until his hips hit the railing. “I can’t be around you sometimes,” he says, muffled behind his palm. “It’s too much.”

Too much.

The one guy who stood up to everyone just days ago, the one who would always listen to whatever nonsense you planned in the lab or for missions.

You are too much for him? A fucking speedster?

Your vision blurs and you blink fast, but one tear slips free anyway. You wipe it away immediately with the back of your hand.

“I-” Your voice cracks. You clear your throat and force it steadier. “Okay- wow, uh I’ll just go?”

Bart makes a strangled sound but You don’t look at him already turning away and you walk out as quickly as you can without running.

The door hisses shut behind you. You swipe at your cheeks, angry now, but more tears keep coming.

You don’t even know where you’re going you just want to get away from Bart and the horrible, undeniable truth that he said because he couldn’t lie.

You turn a corner too fast and slam directly into someone solid. “Whoa- hey-”

Tim’s eyes widen the second he sees your face. Whatever smartass comment he had ready dies immediately.

His expression sharpens. “What the hell happened?”

You laugh once, but it comes out broken.

“It was really funny, Tim” you say, voice raw. “The secret everyone’s been in on for three days but me? Hilarious.”

His grip tightens slightly, “What are you talking about?”

“Just leave me alone,” you snap, shoving past him.

Tim turns after you. “Wait- come on why are you crying”

You keep walking now feeling even more humiliated than you were before.

He manages to catch your arm pulling you back “Hey. What happened?”

You yank free, not looking back. “Ask Bart.”

Then you disappear down the corridor before he can stop you again.

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A/N: this was supposed to be a one-shot but I got very carried away </3. Reader has subjective hearing it seems :(

In other wordssss, I wanna try writing 1 one-shot a day (about 1K words) to get in the habit of writing more consistently :D. Occasionally I will end up way more than I meant to but it’s okay <3

𖤓 Half-Kryptonian!Reader

Dad!Clark Kent & Boyfriend Mark Grayson

Series: Where the Light Used to Be

Prompt! Prequel! (here :D)

Beta-reader: @vee08

Before reading this fic, I'd suggest taking a peek at the prompt linked above!! It explains the plot :P This was supposed to be part one, but I got too caught up with kissing Mark Grayson.

WC: 7.35 K

CW: Minor non-canon character death

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The roof sends a small chill up your spine as you make your way across it barefoot, the tiles slightly uneven under your feet. 

For a moment, you consider turning back to grab socks or maybe change out of your thin tank top and sleep shorts, but decide you have no time to spare if you want to catch a glance of some muscles.

The tree between your house and Mark’s shudders gently in the wind, the branches brushing against each other with the softest sound.

A sound your boyfriend swears only you can hear with your almost non-human like hearing (You’ve decked him far too many times for muttering things under his breath). 

You take a small step back, lining yourself up for the leap you’ve done countless times. Taking a deep breath before rushing forward, and leaping onto the sturdy tree branch. 

The landing jolts through your ankles, making you wobble, and your arms shoot out for balance to steady yourself.  Moving quickly to brace your hands against the tree trunk, leaning into it.

The bark is rough enough to catch slightly at your skin as you run your fingers over it, instinctively searching for the carving.

It doesn’t take long to find. M.G sits messily carved next to your much neater initials. Your grin softens when your fingers trace on the newer addition. 

The small heart holding both sets of initials together was added a few months ago after he finally stopped overthinking everything and kissed you.

Speaking of Mark… you can barely hide your smirk as you move around the trunk to the other side, closer to where his house waits just beyond the branches. 

You’d seen the light in his room flick on only minutes ago, warm yellow spilling through the open blinds. Signalling he’d made it home from his shift at BurgerMart.

Which, obviously, meant the only logical next step was getting out your window and getting to him.

You cross the rest of the tree without much thought, the bark shifting slightly under your feet before you step onto the Grayson roof.

You take a second to glance at his driveway for what you know is already not there.

His driveway is empty, exactly as expected on a Friday night.

His parents are out on one of their overly lovey-dovey date nights, meaning you have Markus Sebastian Grayson all to yourself once you get your hands on him :D

You can’t help the small giggle that slips out as you inch closer to his window, kneeling down as you peer inside.

Mark has already changed out of his BurgerMart uniform, the red fabric tossed carelessly toward the foot of his bed while his work pants are on the floor, barely a foot from his door as if he couldn't wait to get out of them.

He’s in that stupid Green Lanterned-themed pyjama set you got him (you have the matching Flash one, obviously). The back of his shirt faces you, the fabric wrinkled from who knows how long of not washing it. 

You make a quiet disappointed sound to yourself for being just a few minutes too late, but it cuts short at his next movements.

Mark leans over his bedside table, the soft glow of his phone screen lighting his face as he checks it. No doubt trying to see if it had enough charge to unplug it. 

Your gaze drifts over his back naturally as you try to ignore the slightly creepy vibe you're giving off as you study him

Hmm, for a guy who barely works out, he has really nice back muscles. Your eyes, very innocently, start to dip lower and you immediately wish you had brought your phone with you.

Mark doesn’t let you stand behind him anymore, especially when he bends over.

This was all due to that one phase you had three years ago, when he’d go up the stairs and your hands would without fail gravitate straight to his butt. (In your defence though, he had a really nice ass.)

He unplugs his phone and drops onto his bed, already typing away, with that stupid dopey smile tugging at his face.

Your smile widens, knowing that look without even seeing what’s on his screen..

He’s texting you.

You watch him a moment longer than you mean to. Just long enough to see his brows start to knit together when you don’t respond right away, his thumb pausing mid-text before he brings his phone closer to his face.

It’s a known thing between you where he’d come home tired, smelling like fryer oil and a bit sweaty on the brink of death after dealing with customers for hours, only to get revived with your attention. 

You see him bite his lip and quickly duck out of view when he glances at your window, which you had left only your bedside lap on. A sign that you were supposedly awake. 

A moment passes before you peek back inside and you watch him sigh leaning back into his bed his phone held to his chest as he stares up at the ceiling dramatically.

Aw, okay, you can’t let your needy boyfriend get too pouty.

You press your palm flat against the glass with a smack and watch as Mark jolts so hard he nearly drops his phone, shoulders snapping upright as his head whips toward the window. 

For a second, he just stares. His pretty brown eyes wide with a hand clutching his chest. Absolutely a deer in headlights with no survival instincts.

You can’t hold in your laugh, watching his expression flip from confusion to that familiar, exasperated disbelief as he pushes himself off his bed, making his way to you.

He opens the window immediately, the latch snapping up with more force than necessary. The warm air of his room and vanilla candle you got him hits your face and you feel the rush of comfort it always brings you.

You’re already opening your mouth, ready with something teasing to bully him about his dramatic reaction.

He acted like you were a villain instead of his very normal, very reasonable girlfriend–

“Puss–”

But you don’t get to finish the word.

Mark just grabs your face.

Both hands cupping your cheeks and squishing them together. He pulls you closer to the window frame, giving your face a small but firm shake.

Your lips push out awkwardly from the pressure as you squirm in complaint.

“You’re so fucking weird–” he blurts, voice cracking slightly. “What the fuck.”

Your brows lift as best they can under his grip, a hand uselessly gripping his wrist while the other holds onto the window frame to stop yourself from falling face-first into his room. 

“Ecfuse meh?” you mumble, barely getting the words out.

His expression twitches before he shakes you again, gentler this time. “I was literally texting you,” he mutters. “I thought I was hallucinating for a second.”

You blink up at him, still slightly distorted by his hands and also very distracted because wow, he has a nice grip–

Which tragically loosens the moment you want to enjoy it. You huff immediately putting on an annoyed front.

“Let go of my face, you dick.”

“No.” 

“Mark, I swear to god–”

He leans in and cuts you off with a kiss, still squishing your cheeks slightly making the kiss land a little awkwardly at first.

Its almost impossible for you to take it seriously but your eyes still flutter shut as you lean into it. 

Mark pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes flicking over your face like he’s double-checking again that you’re actually here and annoying him in person.

“…Yeah,” he mutters, “Not hallucinating.”

You roll you eyes as you finally manage to pry one of his hands off your cheeks. “You just wanted to kiss me, perv.”

His expression changes instantly. “Me? Perv?” he says, pointing at himself then you with all the dramatics you've seen from a man. “You’re the one outside my window at night like– like a peeing Tom!”

You squint at him.

“…Peeping Tom??”

“Yes.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he keeps going, getting more worked up, but you can tell he’s amused by the small crinkle near his eye.

“Did you watch me change, too?” he demands, narrowing his eyes.

“What? No!” you say immediately, and unfortunately, too fast to be casual.

“Really?” he says leaning closer. “That sounded suspicious.”

“I came too late to watch that,” you snap back.

The silence thaty follows is loud as he just stares at you before raising a brow, and you see the smirk he’s holding back. (He’d never admit it, but he lives off the fact that you find him hot.)

“…That is not better,” he says flatly.

You shrug. “Just bein’ honest, babe.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head like you are genuinely going to take years off his life. He then reaches for your arm, trying to tug you properly into the room through the window.

“Come in,” he says. “Before you fall off the roof and I have to explain to your mom why you died cuz you’re obsessed with me.”

You dig your heels in lightly, resisting just enough to be annoying but also enough to get your point across that you were not budging. 

“Nope,” you say, tugging your arm back with a small grin. “The stars are too nice to be inside.”

His grip loosens slightly as his eyes flick past you to the night sky, dotted with scattered stars.

“…You came all the way over here,” he says slowly, “to drag me outside to look at stars?”

You nod, smiling at him. “And to make out under them.”

Whatever reluctant, exhausted, mildly responsible boyfriend energy he was holding onto just… disappears as his face breaks into an immediate grin.

“I love your fucking brain,” he says instantly. “Best idea you’ve ever had.”

You beam at that, already shifting back so he can climb out through the window too. He pulls himself out onto the roof with practiced ease.

“Yeah?” you tease, tilting your head at him. “Tell me more about what you love about me.”

That earns you a small laugh from him. He takes a inches closer, hands already reaching for you

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, voice softer now but still smug. “I’ve got a list.”

“A list?” you perk up immediately eyes widen with interest and his eyebrows lift a little amused

“Of course you’re excited about that part,” he says, rolling his eyes

You crawl closer to him. “I want explicit detail.”

He studies you for a second, considering it. Then his expression shifts into something mischievous immediately making you cautious. 

“Fine,” he says. “But–”

You groan without letting him finish. “Ugh, what now.”

He clearly chooses to ignire your attitude as he gestures between the two of you like its obvious.

“I want one kiss per thing,” he says way too pleased with himself.

“…That is so manipulative.”

Mark dramatically drops his gaze to his hands like he is somehow the reasonable one in this conversation.

It would probably work better if the corners of his mouth were not twitching so hard from the grin he is trying and failing to suppress.

“That’s your opinion,” he says lightly, even adding a fake uninterested glance at the streets below. But you see him side eye you to gauge your reaction.

Your eyes narrow at him suspiciously as you point a finger at him as you shift closer despite yourself “You’re just trying to scam more kisses out of me!”

Mark’s grin only widens, completely unashamed. One hand grabbing your finger to pull you closer while the other goes to your waist, as he tilts his head at you.

“And?” he asks simply, like that should end the argument entirely.

And… and nothing.

You don’t say another word as you grab the front of his shirt roughly, tugging him to you making a pleased sound as your mouth meets his.

The kiss is messy and a little sticky from the remaining lipgloss you applied before stepping out of your own window.

The hand gripping your finger drops to join the other at your waist as he tugs you into his lap, kissing you back without hesitation.

For a moment, you lose yourself in him. The warmth of his hands at your sides, the faint sound of him breathing out against you like youre stealing his breath

… But then you remember that he owes you a list.

You try to pull back just slightly, just enough to remind him, but his lips chase yours immediately, refusing to let the distance happen. 

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it, and you feel him smile against your mouth in response.

Oh.

This asshole.

This was his plan all along. Distract you with kisses so he can get away with keeping that list to himself. 

Fuck no.

You shift your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck and tug firmly. Mark makes a low sound into the kiss, half protest, half groan, and finally gives you what you want.

His eyes are a little unfocused when he looks at you, pupils blown wider than they were a second ago, lips already forming a pout.  

“…Nice try Grayson” you grumble

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, immediately avoiding your gaze a tell tale sign he’s lying out his ass.

You raise your brows unamused, shifting to slide off his lap. But before you even fully commit to moving your back somehow meets the roof tiles with a soft oof.

The impact isn’t hard, just sudden enough to jolt the air out of you making Mark freeze. 

“Oh– shit,” he blurts, pulling back. “Are you okay? Was that too rough? I’m sorry–”

You laugh immediately, cutting through his spiralling as you reach a hand to cup his face. 

“Relax,” you say, still grinning up at him. “It just surprised me. But if you don’t hold up your side of the bargain, I am going home.”

He leans into your palm immediately, eyes closing for half a second beofre he turns his head slightly and presses a quick kiss to your hand.

“Fine, fine,” he mutters. “I’ll tell you”

He sits back just a little and your palm drops back to your chest with the distance. He still hovering over you, then squints like he’s suddenly having a really hard time recalling what to say.

“…Okay,” he says slowly. “Give me a second. I’m thinking really hard right now.”

You narrow your eyes. “You look constipated–” 

He holds up a finger shushing you, “I need full concentration for this.”

You exhale through your nose, shifting slightly on the roof tile as you look past him at the night sky. The cold seeps through your tank top now that you’re actually still for a second, and you regret everything briefly.

You couldv’e been reading xReader fanfiction about Red Robin. Yet here you were under your stupid boyfriend– 

Then Mark lets out a quiet “ah.”

You look back at him expecting a stupid grin on his face but he’s got that dopey look on his face again.

You raise a brow curiously as he shifts a bit where he’s hovering over you, suddenly less confident 

“I love how you show up,” he says making your lips part slightly as you soften, but you stay silent to prompt him to continue.

“Like, you just– appear. Anywhere. Anytime. Like it’s nothing, just when I need you.” A shy smile tugs at his mouth. 

“And I love that I never have to wonder if you’re actually gonna be there,” he adds, quieter. “Because you always are.”

For a moment, the teasing energy between you both thins out completely, replaced by something a little too intimate for how late it is and how high up you are on a roof.

“…Anyway,” he mutters clearing his throat, attempting to recover the mood, “that’s one. So you owe me a kiss now.”

You don’t call him out on the fact that you already gave him the kiss. Instead, you reach up, grab the front of his shirt again.

Mark barely has time to react before you’re shifting under him. You end up straddling his waist. He makes a small, surprised sound, hands instinctively gripping your hips.

“Hey–” he starts, but it dies immediately when you kiss him again. His grip tighten slightly before it relaxes as he melts

Your fingers curl into his shirt, the roof suddenly feeling a lot less cold when he’s pressed against you like this.

He lets out a small whine that he absolutely will deny if you bring it up as your tongue swipes across his bottom lip before deepening the kiss.

When you finally pull back, it’s only enough to move to press kisses to his jaw, then his cheek, then back to his mouth again, smothering his face.

After a loud obnoxious kiss to his mouth that your sure wouldv’e woken up his parents if they were home, you pause just long enough to look at him properly.

You hair falling forward slightly as you tilt your head. If you thought he was a mess the first time you pulled away, he was wrecked now.

His cheeks are flushed, chest rising a little unevenly as he catches his breath, eyes half-lidded unfocused, and his lips are slightly glossy and reddened. 

God.

You could just eat him… but you decided on just kissing him more

“You–” kiss

 “are–” kiss

 “so fucking–” kiss

 “cute!” kiss

He lets out a small defeated whimper, hands tightening slightly at your waist like he’s trying to decide whether to pull you closer or hide his face entirely.

“I’m not–” he starts, but you kiss him again and his words turn into a content sigh. You’re both smiling into it now, which makes it almost impossible to actually kiss properly.

When you finally pull away for real this time, it’s slow and almost reluctant. You press your forehead to his, as you both catch your breath.

For a second, neither of you says anything. 

The only sound is Mark’s breathing and crickets chirping in the night. The faint glow from his window behind him makes him look etheral. 

There he is.

Mark Grayson. Best friend turned boyfriend, but still and always the dorky boy youve loved all your life.

“I’ll always be there for you Mark.”

His eyes flick over your face. “…Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say cupping his face, thumb brushing his cheek.

You feel any remaining tension in him vanish, his expression softening completely as he presses into your touch. 

“…Good,” he murmurs after a moment “Cuz I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

Then he tilts his head and you recognize the shift before he even moves properly. His hands slide a little more securely around your waist

You don’t resist when he moves you, you naturally go slightly slack under him as he kisses you.

Neither of you notices how much you’ve moved from his window– or how close you’ve gotten to the edge of his roof.

Mark’s hand slides more firmly to your hips, intent on laying you onto the roof tiles properly this time. But when he presses you back, expecting the solid roof beneath you…

There’s nothing but air.

For half a second, your body doesn’t understand what’s happening too caught up in Mark. But out of no where your stomach drops violently like suddenly plunging down on a rollercoaster. 

“Shit–”

Your grip on him tightens instantly, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood as instinct takes over. A shriek escaping you as you both go over.

Wind whips around you, the roof disappears above in an instant, and you’re greeted with the sight of the night sky alongside Mark’s horrified face which you’d laugh at if you weren’t about to break your neck

Mark’s arms lock around you hard, one hand snapping to the back of your head and pulling you into the crook of his neck.

The other clamps around your back, practically moulding you to his body. Your legs wrap around him without thinking, clinging out of pure instinct.

You screw your eyes shut waiting for the searing pain and sound of breaking bones… but it never comes. Instead you feel the wind start moving in the opposite direction.

“…Uh,” Mark says.

You lift your head slightly, still panicked. “Are we dead?”

“No,” he answers hesitantly “...I don’t think so.”

You twist slightly in his hold just enough to look past him.

The roof is… far below, shrinking quickly, as if you are moving away from it rather than falling from it. That realization makes your stomach turn again.

“…Mark,” you say slowly, voice cracking as fear fully sets in. “Why the fuck are we going up?”

“What do you mean why are we going up?” he snaps, too fast, too panicked to process it properly.

Mark looks… worse than you feel. Hair completely messed up, eyes wide and his legs dangle slightly in the open air.

“…You can fly?” he blurts.

You gap at him for a full second, your stress making you kind of mad that he’s putting this on you.

“What???”

“I don’t know!” he says cracking into pure panic and confusion. “We’re flying. I’m not doing it. I thought– I thought it was me for a second but it’s not me, I’m not– I don’t–”

He looks down again and then looks like he immediately regrets it closing his eyes for a second before opening them again to look at you.

“I don’t have powers!” he continues, words spilling faster now. “I mean, I wish I did, that would actually explain this, but I don’t! I’m just– I’m just Mark!”

“Then why are we going up?” you ask, voice small

“I don’t know!!” he snaps again but more harshly, then softens right after when you flinch slightly. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.”

His arms adjust again without thinking, pulling you closer against his chest. You feel him shift slightly, like he’s slipping from you

You react too, clinging harder with your arms and legs locking around him as your core strains with the effort.

“Mark– make us go down,” you say quickly, it comes out sharper than you meant it to.

The ground is getting smaller. The air is getting colder. The world is stretching out beneath you into a dark nothing.

You feel your eyes start to sting and theres nothing you can do to stop them from watering as panic overwhelms you

“Mark–” you try again, but your voice breaks halfway through.

A small, involuntary sob slips out. Your grip on his hoodie tightens until your fingers ache.

Everything in Mark changes instantly. “…Hey,” he says. “Hey– no, no, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you– fuck–” 

“I’ve got you,” he repeats quieter. “Just– just stay with me, okay? Don’t look down.”

Mark’s grip shifts again, one hand still desperately gripping you to his chest, the other cupping the side of your head and pulling you back in so your face is in the crook of his neck. He’s not able to hide the tremble in his body though.

A new voice cuts through the air behind you.

“Mark.”

Your head snaps around on instinct and you let out a sharp, involuntary shriek. The motion makes Mark tightens his hold on you immediately to keep you from shifting too much.

Your vision is still blurred with tears, but the figure next to you both comes into focus.

A man effortlessly in the air, completely stable, arms relaxed at his sides like he’s been flying since birth.

Mark’s entire posture changes the second he sees him. “…Dad,” he gasps, “Oh, thank god.”

Your head jerks back toward Mark, confusion cutting through the fear for half a second, before you look again.

Nolan Grayson.

And he’s flying.

“Dad,” Mark says quickly, still holding you tightly. “I don’t know what’s going on. We were on the roof, and then we just started–”

Nolan’s gaze flicks to you, and you miss the subtle shift in his expression, too overwhelmed to breathe at this point.

“--she started flying,” Nolan corrects calmly.

“I– please,” you cut in. “I don’t care who is flying or why, just please get us down.”

He just studies you for a moment while you look down at the literal black abyss of the night before up at what you swear is space.

“Are you sure?” he asks Mark, flying closer. "That it wasn't you?"

“Yes!” Mark blurts. “Pretty sure!”

The shortest moment passes as Nolan’s eyes shift back to you again. His shoulders relax slightly, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders at Mark’s words.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says, voice steady “I’m going to bring you two down, okay? Once we get to the bottom you have to let Mark go, but don’t worry– I’ll hold onto you.”

You blink hard at him. “I– I don’t– what–”

Mark cuts in immediately, still clinging to you. “Dad, she’s freaking out, just– just do it slow, okay?”

Nolan nods once, and then his hand comes forward, gripping the back of Mark’s shirt and like you both weigh nothing he starts guiding you both down.

At first, there’s resistance. A invisible push under your skin to stay moving up. Your stomach twists again as you realize it really was you flying.

Nolan meets your gaze over Mark’s shoulder, expression calm and patient. He gives you a smile.

“Listen to me,” he says. “Nothing is going to happen to either of you. I won’t let anything hurt either of you.”

A pause.

“You trust me, right?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

And you did.

That was almost a year ago now, and you are glad you did. From that day forward, you placed your trust in Nolan completely, just as he placed his trust in you.

He told you about Viltrum, how his planet had been destroyed, and he came to Earth as a refugee, much like Superman.

But unlike him, after meeting Debbie, he chose to stay. To dedicate his life to being a father and a husband. 

You remember how mournful he looked he said it. His eyes looking to the night sky for a moment before returning to you and you felt your heart ache for him. 

At the time, Nolan had joked that he expected to have this conversation with Mark when he got his powers, but it just went to show that you really were his kid too, family.

You remember the faint lift of his mouth when he said it, the way his eyes flicked to you for just a moment longer than usual

And that brings you to now.

The air that once made your shiver felt amazing as you cut through it. Wind roars past your ears, loud enough to drown out everything except your own laughter.

The ground far below is a blur of colours and shapes, you’re not even sure where you are and you don’t care.

Slightly below, Nolan hovers in place perfectly still with his crossed. His eyes track you with pride all over his face.

You let out giggle as you go around him, faster this time before coming to a stop in front of him. Cheeks warm and slightly aching from how much you’re smiling.

Nolan watches you complete the loop and gives a nod. “You are a natural, kiddo.”

“You think so?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but the grin on your face gives you away.

Nolan tilts his head, a fatherly smile, one that’s been in your life for as long as you can remember. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

A gust of wind rolls past, tugging at your clothes making you instinctively adjust your balance.. 

“You are already correcting mid-air,” he says nodding again studying you “Most people would still be crash landing.”

You duck your head at the praise. He’s been yo father figure ever since you moved in next to the Graysons at a few months old.

He and Debbie had treated you like their own and were thrilled when you and Mark started dating.

“Any more… pop-up powers?” he asks after a beat, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

The question makes you huff a laugh. You remember how he had reacted when you came over one afternoon and accidentally ripped the sliding backyard door clean off its frame.

He had not been upset at all, just… impressed even in the face of your frantic apologizes and embarrassing attempts to fix it before Debbie saw it.

And then there was the sneezing incident, which had left the Grayons with a destroyed dining table and shattered dishes.

Of course, Mark had been there for most of it, too. He had been excited for you, even cheering you on and marvelling at you every chance he got.

But you also remember overhearing him talking to Debbie when he thought no one was listening. 

His voice was quieter than usual. Saying he felt a little left out and more like a failure for not having his powers yet. After all, he was Nolan’s son.

The memory lingers just long enough to make your expression soften.

Nolan is still watching you, waiting for your answer, unaware of what just crossed your mind.

“So?” he prompts gently, bringing you back.

“Uh… no, nothing else,” you say, letting out a small sigh licking your lips.

You make a mental note to bring some lip balm next time as your mind wonders yet again to someone else this time.

Your mom.

A year ago, you told her Nolan was teaching you how to fix a car out of all things. She laughed and then laughed harder when you pouted.

Thankfully, your mother adored the Graysons, so she made no attempt to pry for more information. Just told you to let her know when you’re leaving and what time you’d be home so she wouldn’t worry.

Speaking of… shit you forgot to tell her you were leaving this morning. You’d slept through your alarm and just rushed out of your window.

You hesitate, glancing down toward the world far below. “It’s getting a bit harder to hide all this from my mom.”

The doctor had been clear that her heart was weak, and stress was something to avoid at all costs. 

And seeing her daughter hundreds of meters in the air like it is the most natural thing in the world would probably make her heart implode.

So you lied.

You sigh, “She already worries enough. I do not want to make it worse.”

For a moment, Nolan does not respond. He just watches you as his shoulders drop slightly.

“I see,” he says at last, voice low like he’s choosing his words carefully

He looks past you for a moment, toward the horizon, then back again. “You are doing the right thing by being cautious with her. Humans are delicate.”

Human.

Something you no longer were. Not 100% at least.

Nolan moves before you fully register it, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder. Then he pulls you into quick side hug.

“C’mon,” he says, voice easing back into something lighter. “You must have built up an appetite.”

You let out a small laugh “Yeah, I’m starving”

“Let’s go down for dinner, huh?” he hums letting you go. “You and Mark can go grab your mom and bring her over.”

You grin as you picture it immediately. The Graysons dinning table, the smell of food drifting through the kitchen.

Your mom sitting next to Debbie and Nolan laughing, enjoying herself as you try to force Mark to eat all your tomatoes without either mother noticing.

Nolan starts to drift downward, expecting you to follow and of course, you do.

Like always Mark is already waiting.

The moment he sees you, his face lights up with excitement like a cute puppy after being left home alone all day.

“There you are,” he says as he reaches up without hesitation.

His hand finds yours mid way steadying you as you drop the last bit of distance.

A little tradition now that he’s done every single time without fail. Like he is responsible for making sure you land safely even though you are both very aware you can absolutely handle yourself.

His eyes flick over you quickly with curiosity. “Did my Dad show you anything new?”

Behind him, Nolan lands a moment later. He takes one look at the two of you and he chuckles.

“Mark,” Nolan says, voice calm but distinctly entertained, “don’t hog her too long.”

Mark tenses, his cheeks flushing as he snaps his gaze to his father. “I’m not hogging anyone.”

Nolan’s eyebrow lifts just slightly. “You are physically attached to her.”

“I’m just holding her hand!” Mark snaps back a bit too defensively making you giggle. Which earns you a betrayed look from your boyfriend.

Nolan lets out a quiet hum that is very clearly a suppressed laugh. “Mhmm. Sure son”

Mark pulls back a fraction, give him a look that your pretend not to see. “Dad.”

Nolan turns as he laughs heading toward the house, you see Debbie moving around in the kitchen clearly his next target.

“Just make sure to have her mom over here,” he adds lightly over his shoulder. “Don’t want to eat cold dinner.”

Mark exhales through his nose, still holding your hand. “Yeah, yeah, we’re going.”

Nolan pauses after he opens the sliding door, glancing back at the two of you. His eyes flick briefly to your joined hands, then to Mark’s face and the corner of his mouth lifts again.

“Good,” he says simply, and steps inside sitting the door behind him.

Mark exhales through his nose closing his eyes cheeks still adorably red. He glances at the house then looks back at you, expression shifting into something more openly pouty.

“So,” he says, squeezing your hand lightly like he is trying to reclaim your attention fully, “did you learn anything new?”

He tilts his head. “I tried to watch, but you guys went way too high.” His mouth twists a little. “Could barely see anything. Kinda unfair, actually.”

“No, nothing new,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Just worked on some turns.”

“Coo;, cool…,” he hums, looking at your held hands.

“Yeah.” You squeeze his hands back, “very cool”

You gently tug toward the back gate, and he follows, stepping out of the and into the street.

The two of you fall into easy conversation as you walk, words drifting between plans for the after dinner, little jokes, and cheesy flirting.

After a few steps, Mark goes a bit quieter. Watching you fondly as you laugh a lil too hard at your own joke.

“Hey…” he blurts abruptly, “can I steal you for a bit later?”

You glance at him, curious but interested. “Steal me?”

He scratches the back of his neck, a sheepishly look crossing his face as he avoids eye contact. “Yeah. Like… just us. A date or something.”

It comes out rushed, like he is worried it might sound stupid. “We just… haven’t really hung out properly in a while. Since Dad started training you more and stuff. I miss you, I guess.”

Your expression softens immediately.

“Yeah,” you smile leaning to catch his gaze, his eyes meet yours and you watch the worry bleed into affection “Of course. I’d love to.”

He grins and before you can even reach the front door keypad, he stops you making you face him and kisses you softly,

When he pulls back, he is still smiling, “Yeah, okay,” he tilts his head “it’s a date.”

You give him a flustered laugh and gently push him back by the shoulders.

“Ugh,” you mutter fondly, trying and failing to sound normal as you turn back toward the door. “Enough kissing, my mom can probably see on the ring camera.”

Mark just laughs, clearly pleased with himself, and follows right behind you.

You punch in the passcode and the keypad beeping softly before the lock clicks open. Mark reaches past you to put the door open, and the smell of home drifts out to meet you.

“Mom?” you call as you step inside.

Your voice echoes lightly through the hallway. Walls framed with pictures of you throughout the years.

Some alone, many with your cheek pressed close to your mom’s and even a few embarrassing ones with Mark.

You get no answer to your call. Which isn’t out of the ordinary at this point.

You try again, a little louder this time. “Mom?”

…

Still nothing.

You exhale, shoulders dropping slightly as you glance back at Mark.

“She’s probably just sleeping,” you say, kicking off your shoes near the entrance. “Let me go wake her. I’ll be right back with her.”

“Gotcha” Mark nods. “Call me if you need help getting her down the stairs or anything”

You give him a grateful smile and an acknowledging hum as you make your way up the stairs.

You were excited to have dinner with the Graysons and your mom. You guys were basically one family at this point. They were always there for you two afterall.

When your mom’s health first started to decline Debbie was right there. Taking you in when your mom had appointments and over night stays at hospitals.

She’d do your hair when your mom’s hands trembled too hard to hold a comb. Letting your mom talk to you with sweet stories while she worked through knots.

Nolan filled in any gap not having a father left you. Carrying you on his shoulders to reacher higher than you could ever on your own.

And of course there was Mark. Always by your side no matter the Nonesense you’d drag him into.

You sigh reaching the top of the stairs. The house feels… off with each step you take. When you reach her room, the door is slightly open.

“Mom?” you say again as you push it open

The room is dim, curtains pulled closed only letting in a sliver of light. She is in bed, back turned toward you curled into herself.

On the nightstand, you notice her open medication bottle, a glass of water half-finished beside it.

Right. A small wave of relief moves through you as you step inside. The doctor said the meds could make her drowsy. She probably took them and drifted off.

You smile a little to yourself, careful not to make too much noise as you move closer, reaching for the bottle to close it properly.

Your fingers brush the label as you turn it, a force of habit taking over. You always wanted to to stay up to date on her treatments and progress.

A bit of guilt fills you, you hadn’t been the most attentive as of late with your new powers but she never complained.

If anything you knew she was happy that you weren’t waiting foot and hand for her.

You sigh taking a moment to clear the nightstand to give her a few more moments of rest before turning back to her.

You reach out and gently rub her arm, the same way she used to wake you when you were younger.

“Hey,” you murmur. “We’re going to the Graysons’ for dinner, remember?”

You wait for the familiar half-awake grumble she makes when she is being pulled out of sleep when she really doesn’t want to.

But nothing comes. Her arm stays exactly where it is beneath your hand. The silence is wrong in a way that makes your skin crawl and nausea build in your throat. 

Your hand pauses mid-rub.

“Mom, come on,” you say, forcing a small laugh. “You’re gonna sleep through everything if you keep–”

The words cut off before you finish them when you pull her onto her back so you can see her face properly.

Her face is there, peaceful in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, even during sleep. There is no tension in her expression at all, none of the usual faint lines of exhaustion that you are used to seeing.

Your eyes flick down next, and that is when the feeling in your chest drops sharply.

Her chest is not moving.

You stare, unblinking, waiting for your eyes to start working properly.

Nothing happens.

You try to breathe in, and it catches halfway like your lungs forgot what they are supposed to do.

Your fingers dig into the blanket at her side, then her shoulder, harder this time as you try to grasp reality. 

You shake her once, small at first, then again, stronger.

“Mom– no, no, no, wake up– please, please, wake up–”

Your strength gives out all at once, your knees give out, and you all but collapse forward into her.

Your forehead presses against her shoulder as the sob breaks fully loose.

The sound is ugly and painful, almost loud enough to cover the sound of feet stomping up the stairs in panic. 

The doorframe fills behind you.

Mark stands there his brain refuses to process what he sees but it catches up all at once.

“Hey– shit– hey, what’s going on?!” His voice cracks with panic.

He crosses the room fast, almost stumbling as he drops to his knees beside you. His hands come out instinctively, reaching for you.

“Look at me,” he whispers “Come on, move back a bit… just- just let me look please.”

You don’t move. You can’t.

Mark tries again. “Hey... Please, c’mon—“

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head your face pressed against her. Her too grows damp under your face.

Mark freezes, and you feel him shift anxiously, leaning closer to peer at your mom before he exhales shakily.

“Okay,” he says kissing his teeth in stress. His hand stays on you, but he stops trying to pull you away. “Okay, okay.—”

“I’ll call my parents,” he murmurs more to himself, already fumbling for his phone, eyes still flicking between you and your mom. “They’ll know what to do– we’ll get your mom to the hospital, okay? She’ll be okay–”

But his voice and everything else in the world fade into something muffled and far away.

All you can hear is the silence where her heartbeat should be.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Taglist :D @missmillivanilli @r-u-s-s-i-a-h @chibitronxoxo @lmrwriter @m4ngo15 @bunniotomia

If you'd like to be tagged as well please comment over on the >>prompt<< post!! Makes it a lil easier for me to make sure I get everyone!

Roy Harper x Reader (texts with Roy)

Hello lovelies! This is basically just a shit-post inspired by real texts I had with @vee08 that I turned into 2 mini one-shots. It’s stupid, like genuinely stupid, and I don’t really have context for it other than she’s just… weird.

One is a lot longer than the other… randomly got inspired I think?

Red = Roy’s texts. I tried to make it feel like an SMAU but I couldn’t really figure out proper formatting so I just kind of blended the texts into the fic itself instead :) hopefully it makes sense, lmk if it doesn’t <3

-----------------------

Killed in Action:

The grocery store is loud enough to make your head hurt, packed with people who somehow all manage to stop directly in the middle of the aisle exactly where you need to be.

You sigh quietly to yourself as you push the shopping cart forward, one hand resting lazily against the handle while the other fixes the neckline of Roy's your sweater where it keeps slipping off your shoulder.

—

i initially thought Bruce was going to be angry, but i guess dick was smart about it. he made it seem like he’s doing you a favor, but he was trapping you, in a tower FULL of heroes. what a dick…

anyway, i thought that bruce would get angry, and since you said tim was involved, i thought that maybe dick got tim’s help to get video footage of us “acting out” to show bruce like a snitch. then bruce would reprimand us, maybe send us back to boarding school. then reader snaps back being all “that’s so typical, why did i ever think you cared enough about me to even punish me yourself?” or something like that

Alternative to Chapter 3. If Dick snitched on you :P

LMG Series masterlist

WC: 2.9K

Beta reader: @vee08

A/N: Hellooo, pookie bear, I am so sorry for getting to this so late. I started then got distracted by other things but then locked tf in to finish it off! I got a little too into it with Bruce reprimanding her. :P I love your ideas, this actually was so fun to write, many kisses for you mwah mwah.

Note to everyone, I'm just going to post the one-shot requests I have first before the next parts to any of the seriesfics. So sorry for the wait

Just to clarify this is not the next part to LMG but an alternative path, its not canon to what the series has going on :)

CW: Mentions of assault [none happens but it is brought up as a 'what if'] comment.

--------

You groan, rolling onto your side and dragging a pillow over your face as sunlight suddenly smacks right into your face. Far too bright and far too rude. 

Your head throbs in protest, a dull, persistent ache that pulses behind your eyes. You barely have time to bury yourself deeper into the mattress before a voice cuts cleanly through the haze.

​​“Hangover, miss?”

Your heart jolts and you shriek in surprise, the pillow you’d used to shield yourself against the evil sun is ripped away by your own hands as you scramble upright.

Standing calmly by your nightstand, hands folded behind his back like this is just another quiet morning is Alfred, who is very much not supposed to be here for at least another week.

“Alfred?” Your voice cracks despite your effort to sound normal. “I– you’re home early–”

Did he really say hangover? Or was your brain still half-asleep playing our a nightmare? You blink hard, trying to arrange your face into something startled and more importantly, innocent. “Is Dad home too–?”

Alfred doesn’t look at you as he adjusts something on the nightstand. Only when you follow his movement do you see a glass of water and two neatly placed painkillers beside it.

Oh. He absolutely said hangover.

“He is, Miss,” Alfred says gently giving you any srot of warm greeting like he normally would. “And he would like to speak with you. Please be downstairs quickly. You do not want him to come up.”

Before you can respond or can ask any questions Alfred turns and leaves. The door remains open behind him, a deliberate choice of passive aggression that somehow makes everything worse.

Anxiety claws at your chest immediately. Fuck. So Dick really did snitch on you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your breathing goes shallow as the implications spiral out of control in your head.

You stumble out of bed, legs shaky, feet barely making it into your slippers before you’re pacing the room. Your fingers twist together compulsively, nails digging into your palms. 

You’re done for. Your dad will break his no-kill rule just to murder you. You glance around your room like it might suddenly offer you some miracle, but find nothing.

Nothing to save you from what your father knows. What he knows because of–

Anger spikes through you suddenly cutting through the panic. Dick. Fucking Dick Grayson. 

You storm back to your nightstand mind set on yanking your phone off where it should be charging. You’re as good as dead anyway, you might as well tell him exactly what you think of–

Your hand closes on empty air and you feel your blood run ice cold as your head snaps down to look. You stare at the bare surface of the nightstand. No phone.

“No, no, no–” You shove the nightstand away from the wall, ignore the glass cup that tips over and shatters.

Your heart is too busy pounding as you peer behind it just to find nothing, even dropping to your knees, checking under the bed with frantic movements.

Gone.

Not your burner phone. Not the one you keep squeaky clean around the family. Your real phone full of photos, videos, messages– evidence just for your own eyes and memories. Completely fucking gone.

A strangled sound leaves your throat as you collapse forward, pressing your face into the sheets. Your chest tightens painfully as reality crashes down. Alfred must have taken it. And if Alfred has it, then its already in your dad’s hands.

Your vision blurs as tears spill out, soaking into the bedding. You don’t even bother wiping them away. You’re fucked. Completely fucked.

You barely have time to register the sob clawing its way up your throat before the blarring ring of the antique wire phone makes you flinch hard. It’s gorgeous, vintage design suddenly the bane of your existence.

With shaking hands, you drag yourself back onto the bed and reach for it. You pause, fingers hovering just above the receiver, forcing a deep breath into lungs that don’t seem to want to cooperate.

You squeeze your eyes shut bringing the phone to your ear as if willing this conversation to end even before it began. “Dadd—”

“No.” His voice is flat missing the slight gentleness he usually saves for you. “Come down. Now.”

Without another word more he cuts the call and the line rings dead. 

—-------

The way down is painful, and slow. The decent of the elevator was incredibly symbolic into your actual decent into eternal punishment. Your skin begins to itch as if allergic to the air of the Batcave.

The doors open and your father stands with his back to you, facing the Batcomputer. From where you stand, you can see the glow of the massive screens reflecting off the metal rails and displays.

Worst of all you can see that his cowl is still on. 

Images flash across the monitors– photos, videos all belonging to you or of you. Including security footage from that night with angles you didn’t know existed.

“I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself.”

You flinch at the sound of his voice, its controlled and even. You know that means he’s holding back but that somehow makes it worse. Y

ou step forward crossing the metal frame and the doors slide shut behind you just as he turns.

The blank white lenses of his mask is all you can see, that and his lips pressed into a flat line..

“I– I just–” Your hands fidget with the hem of your top before you can stop them. You realize too late that it doesn’t fully hide the marks you were so sure would fade before he came home. 

You feel his gaze drop for a fraction of a second– and then he looks away entirely, another nail in your coffin it seems.

“I just wanted to have fun,” you finish quietly, the words sounding small even to your own ears.

You’re not sure why the fuck that was what you decided to say, your mind was too scrambled, but hwat could you even say? That’s the only reason you went out.

“Fun,” he repeats, and you’ve never felt more stupid.

He finally looks back at you and again youre greeted by the mask. “You snuck out,” he begins, voice low. “You went to an club illegally You consumed alcohol underage. And when you were found–”

He gestures toward the screens just as the footage switches. You recognize the club floor instantly, the bodies pushing up against each other, yours against that man. Then Dick’s unmistakable frame pushes through the crowd, his head snapping up the moment he spots you.

Your brows pull together immediately, confusion cutting through the haze of dread. That footage shouldn’t exist.

You always do your research before going to places you shouldn’t be. This club had a bunch of complaints due to its shitty cameras– hell you even saw footage yourself when you fake requested a random night and you couldn’t make out a person from a random support pillar.

But the screen in front of you is showing everything anyway. Clear enough to recognize you and just enough for Bruce to see everything.

Bruce notices the shift in your expression immediately and crosses his arms leaning against the batchair. 

“Dick contacted Tim,” he says. “They reconstructed what they could–.”

Tim? Why the fuck did Dick get him involved? You know he’s smart enough to do that shit himself. God this was purely to spite you wasn’t it?

“--They were concerned,” Your dad finishes but youre past reasonable. 

Concerned! Concerned your ass– Your expression must give you away, because Bruce’s posture shifts.

“Put aside whatever meaningless grudge you have against them,” he says, voice sharpening just slightly. “They did nothing wrong. You did,”

“You were reckless,” he continues before you can speak. “Careless. Stupid– I raised you to be smarter than this.”

You’re at a loss for words but the stubborn part of you tries an argument anyway, “But–” 

“But nothing!” He finally raised his voice. He steps away from the batcomputer towards you. “You are young. You are untrained. And whether you like it or not, you were alone in a city that preys on girls exactly like you.”

He points at you, and you find yourself caving in on yourself slightly. He’s never spoke to you in that tone.

“And to make this worse,” he’s in front of you now, close enough that you have to look up to meet his gaze, and you’ve never felt smaller. “You got on the back of a motorcycle with a random grown man”

You try to look down, but he reaches to cup your face to make you look at him in his eyes before dropping his hand away. “No you don’t get to look away now” he scowls, “not when you are standing here covered in–”

His hand lifts in a small, restrained gesture toward your neck and you don’t need a mirror to know what he sees

He looks away immediately after as if disgusted like even seeing them is something he refuses to allow himself to process. “I don’t even want to know,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, “what you did for that man for the ride.”

A rush of shame floods your chest so fast it makes you nauseous. “They weren’t from him,” you blurt out, voice cracking. “I didn’t– he didn’t–”

Bruce’s head snaps back toward you, something sharp flashing through his expression.

“That does not help your case,” he says, harsher now. “Any man you interacted with that night was a predator. And you walked straight toward them without a second thought.”

You hand reaches to cover and rub and the marks on your neck as he brings down the heavy reality of what you did. Your bottome lip quivering as you finally just stay silent, hand dropping to grip at ur neckline to stop it from trembling. 

“You could have been assaulted,” he continues, voice low and terrifyingly steady. “You could have been killed. You could have disappeared, and we would have had nothing but four minutes of corrupted footage to find you.”

You look up at him eye wide and brimming with tears, but that only eggs him on to get it through your head. All he sees is his reckless daughter, and maybe that’s all you were. “And the worst part,” Bruce says, “is that you don’t seem to understand how close that was.”

A small silence passes, you knew he was angry, he was definitely disappointed, he probably was even ashamed of you for it all. You knew he was taking in every microexpression and movement, seeing everything on the outside while misunderstanding you to the core at the same time. 

Then he moves, his hand going to his utility belt, to pull something free.

And just when you thought your heart couldn’t drop lowest. HYou graze sets on your phone. He holds it up, the screen is dark, but you know what’s inside it. “What you did that night,” Bruce says slowly, “did not begin or end at that club.”

“That’s none of your business!” The words rip out of you before you can stop them, panic bleeding ijnto every word, it’s even more evident with how you step away. “You had no right to go through my phone!”

“No right?” he snaps back immedately, his grip tightens on your phone. “I am your father.”

He takes a step forward, holding the phone like evidence in a trial.

“You forfeited your right to privacy the moment you proved you cannot be trusted with your own safety,” he says harshly. “You made that blatantly clear.”

Your fingers clench into your palms as you try again to step bac kbut he follows after.

“I saw the messages,” he continues, voice rising despite his effort to control it. “Men twice your age. Conversations you don’t fully understand. Things you were pressured to do because you didn’t think them through.”

“I wasn’t pressured–” you start weakly.

“You don’t know that,” he cuts you off immediately. “That’s the problem. You think because you walked away that night, nothing bad happened. But that’s not how this works.”

He gestures sharply with the phone, the movement controlled but furious. “Predators don’t need violence to force you to hurt you. They use access and trust. And you handed both over freely.”

You shake your head speaking not caring how you sounded anymore. “I wasn’t trying to be stupid,” you whisper. “I just–I didn’t think–”

“Exactly,” Bruce says, cutting in again. “You didn’t think. Not about who you were, where you were or what happens to countless girls just like you who are more careful. You just got lucky.”

The word lucky is what finally breaks you. Your breath stutters, chest caving in on itself as the weight of everything he’s said crashes down all at once. Your hands come up instinctively, pressing over your face as a sob tears out of you before you can stop it.

You’re angry and hurt. But underneath it all, you’re scared.

Scared of the reality he got through your head that you were aware of but convinced it couldn’t happen to you, and scared of what will come of this conversation.

You hear him shift not sure if it’s in response to you crying or maybe he looking through your phone for a specific thing to focus on.

Instead all you hear is a slow heavy sigh that makes you ppeek through your fingers. Your father stands pinching the bridge of his nose through the cowl and desperation takes over.

“Dad–” you try again, voice small and more of a plea for comfort. 

He doesn’t even look at you, or at least you don’t thnk he does, the stupid cowl hiding his face and any read you could get from him. You’ve seen him take it off countless times for your brothers– no. His sons. Why not you?

Instead, he lowers his hand and exhales again the sound making your words die off. You swallow nothing prssing your lips together hard just waiting for the ball to drop.

“You need better supervision and support than I can offer you,” he says gesturing toward the elevator doors. “Alfred has likely already pulled your suitcase,” he continues. “Go upstairs. Help him pack.”

Your hands fall from your face. “What–?” 

“I’ve already contacted Headmaster Ricketson,” Bruce adds, voice returning to that measured calm that terrifies you more than yelling ever could. “You’ll be returning to boarding school immediately.”

You stare at him, you knew this could still be a possibiuty but you hoped deep down he’d surprise you for once. The hurt quickly bleeds into something bitter and painful.

“That’s it?” you shot back. “That’s all you have to say?”

Bruce finally looks at you. “This isn’t a punishment,” he says. “It’s what’s necessary.”

A hollow laugh escapes you before you can stop it, shaky and broken. “Of course it is.”

You wipe at your face angrily, tears still slipping free despite your efforts. “That’s so typical,” you snap, the hurt pouring out now whether you want it to or not. “Why did I ever think you’d care enough about me to even punish me yourself?”

He stiffens grip on your phone tightening to the point you think it will shatter. You hope it does, hope its cuts his hand up.

“You don’t ground me,” you continue, “You don’t try to understand– you just send me away like I’m too much.”

Your chest aches as the words spill out. “You fight villains fucking monsters every night,” you choke. “But when it’s me? You just give up.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens, his head tilting upward for just a second before returning to you. “This conversation is over,” he says turning away standing there, facing the screens like you’re already gone.

It’s strange how quickly something inside you can go quiet, how the hurt that felt too big to breathe through a second ago can suddenly turn cold and still, and turn into numbness.

“Fine,” you hear yourself say, and your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. It’s completely empty. “If that’s what you want.”

He mades a sound to ackneoged your words shifting to change the screens from you back to the maps of gotham and crime reports. Typical.

Your jaw tightens, nails cutting into your palms as something bitter and poisonous spreads through your chest as a shaky laugh leaves you. “I hate you,” you. I hate Dick and I fucking despise Tim.”

Your throat burns, grief rising up before you can stop it. “My only real brother is dead,” you cspit out. “And now I guess… my dad is too.”

You left your hand to rub at your eyes to still see his back to you, blatantly tense but he doesnt move. He just stands there as a protector of everyone but you. As Batman and not your dad.

Your vision blurs, but you don’t bother wiping the tears away this time. They don’t matter anymore nothing here does. So you turn and force your feet to move, each step feeling heavier than the last as you walk to whatever horrors will find you int he time to come.

You decide that he’d never see you again. None of them will.

-----

taglist: @Hearts4mica @1abi @Welpthisisboring @Unclearblur @Aetherdott @miakxn @Blueberry-ovaries @Degenerates-posts @K-tsuyuri @Swag13r @Jasmine2105 @nessielovesfood @kamabapoko @Cupid73 @mfv-777 @jsprien213 @01bored @philhoesophy @a-taken-url @stickyricewithmangosauce @innherworld @cupid73

Stardew Valley AU :D

Jason Todd x Farmer!Reader

After an accident leaves you high on pain meds and soon to be short a thousand gold, you post a simple request for help around the farm. You don’t expect the reply to come from a newcomer with watchful eyes and too many secrets.

Inspired by this absolutely perfect piece of fanart by @ciricearts please give her love for all the blessings she gives the DC community with her art.

WC: 2.5K

Beta-Reader: @vee08

To make the Jason Todd portrait, I used a fun website I found below:

Masc Version / Fem Version

--------------------------------

You grumble as you take your fourth set of medication for the night, the pills bitter even after you chase them down with the last lukewarm sip of tea on your bedside table.

The glass clinks softly when you set it down on your nightstand with a sigh that echoes a bit too loudly in the silence of the room.

Everything feels too loud lately, every creak in the wood, the hurt in your heart when you walk past your grandpa’s chair that you hadn’t moved by the fireplace, and last but certainly not least, every dull pulse of pain along your side that refuses to let you forget exactly how stupid you’d been.

Based on this^^^ lovely prompt from my dear friend

Dick Grayson x Reader Smut

Hello everyone! This is a special request that took me fair too long to write cuz I kept getting embarrassed writing the smut part. Happy birthday to @vee08 shes now 21!!! Wowowowowow!! This might be my only smut fic for the next long while [they take me toooooo long to write]. Now bear with me as I try not to cringe typing out the CW/What the smut includes:

afab + feminine words used to describe you, Drinking [but no drunk-sex, everyone is sober], a little roleplaying strangers, oral [f. Reciving], fingering, nip play, p in v, praising, lack of condom </3 + he finishes inside :( [I think that’s all! But let me know if I miss anything ofc] annnddd mention of Ric Grayson :P

This one is not beta-read, so if you see spelling mistakes... my bad

---------------------------------------------------------------

Roy Harper x Civilian!Reader and ofc Lian + Mom!Reader :)

Fluff for once of my favourite redhead with a CW at the end since it gets a bit suggestive!

Beta-Read by @vee08

Your giggles fill the room as Roy’s voice drifts through the door for the third time in five minutes, exaggerated and dramatic in the only way your boyfriend can manage.

“Babe,” he complains, knocking before jiggling the locked doorknob because you knew him and his antics, “how long does it take to put on lipstick? We’re going to miss the countdown at this rate.”

The room smells faintly of vanilla lotion and the warm cinnamon candle you placed under the heat lamp earlier, a nice cozy room paired with the playlist you put on for you and Lian to get ready earlier. It would be the direct definition of peaceful if it weren’t for your whiny redheaded lover. 

Before you can answer, a tiny huff reaches your ears. Lian scrambles off your bed, stomping her feet as she moves to your bedroom door before pressing her cheek down to peer through the narrow crack beneath the door. 

Her sparkly dark blue skirt pools out around her, as her little hands spread on the floor for balance. “Daddy,” she scolds, her voice mimicking the time you’d come down to find her and Roy both elbow deep in the cookie jar a few days ago, “you are not supposed to be here.”

“I just need help to pick how to do my hair,” Roy whines from the hallway. You can hear the grin in his voice, the way he’s clearly enjoying rage-bating your daughter. “Or maybe a quick kiss? From you and Mama?”

Lian huffs again, smacking the bottom of the door where she was lying down hard. “No!” she says, firmly. “You have to get ready alone– so we can surprise you.”

There’s a pause on the other side, and you hear Roy stifle a chuckle at Lian’s tone before a soft thunk like he’s leaning his head against the door like the dramatic man he is for you two. 

He’s quick to change up his strategy to guilt-trip his four-year-old, letting his voice wobble, “But what if I look silly and you two laugh at me?”

Lian pauses for a moment long enough to make Roy hopeful. Pfft.  “You always look silly,” she says like shes stating a fact. “But it’s okay, we like silly.”

You can’t hold back your snort of laughter, turning to face the mirror to finish off your lipstick before grabbing your setting spray, trying to ignore Roy’s offended sputter at his daughter's comment.

Roy scoffs in response, still pushing his luck. “Gee, thanks, pumpkin– but this is still unfair. I’m all alone while you two get to party in there. Come on, let daddy in–.”

Lian just grumbles, pressing closer to the crack of the door to make sure Roy hears her words very clearly. “Daddy,” she says seriously, lowering her voice, “if you don’t listen… Mama won’t kiss you– ever again!”

That shuts him up real fast. A beat passes before the most dramatically loud sigh you’ve ever heard from a man reaches your ears. You could imagine him with his hands shoved in his pockets, kicking his socked foot at nothing.

His footsteps retreating down the hallway are exaggerated and loud on purpose. “Okay, fine– fine! Going downstairs, hope I see you two before the new year.”

Lian beams as she sits up, giggling and clapping her hands in victory before scampering back to hop back on your bed, legs swinging as she settles in to watch you. You turn back toward the mirror, carefully applying the final touches of lip gloss, and catch her reflection staring at you with open admiration.

“Mama,” she says softly, her eyes wide as they dart all over your face when you turn to face her, “you look so pretty.”

You smile at her, approaching her and crouching so you’re at eye level with her, pushing back a strand of her dark hair that you styled a bit earlier. “You think so, baby?”

Her nod is immediate as she reaches to cup your face. You pull her hands back to kiss her palms before standing back to give her a small twirl.

The skirt of your blue dress swishes gently around your legs. The colour matches hers perfectly, just like she insisted when the three of you went shopping. Lian squeals, clapping her hands, watching you.

“You match me!” she reminds you proudly, smoothing down her sparkly skirt with great care. “I told Daddy we had to match.”

“We do match!” You laugh, stepping closer and scooping her up. She melts against you immediately, tiny arms reaching all the way to loop around your neck, her cheek flush and warm where it presses against yours.

“And look at you,” you pull back to look at her. She smelled like vanilla and the baby cologne you still insisted on using on her. “All dressed up. My beautiful girl.”

She ducks her face, giggling for a moment, before peaking back out, eyes flicking to the lipgloss still in your hand. “Can I… can I have lipstick too?”

You pause, pretending to consider it, then smile. “Yes, but you have to stay very still.”

Her eyes go impossibly wide as she nods. You place her back on the bed before kneeling. You uncap the lip gloss, smiling as she puckers her lips up for you to dab the faintest touch of gloss on her lips. 

She doesn’t blink, hands clutching the bed sheets, mimicking you as you smack your lips together to spread the lip gloss. “All done,” you whisper.

She squeals, squirming to get off the bed and rush to your closet floor-length mirror to look at herself. “I’m wearing makeup!”

“You are,” you laugh softs stepping behind her as you smooth out her hair. “Just like Mama.”

She practically glows, pride radiating off her in waves as she repeats Just like Mama back to herself.

From downstairs, Roy’s voice drifts up again, “Alright, ladies,” he calls. “Daddy is really lonely– He might just finish all the juice! ”

You smile to yourself, glancing at the clock on your phone before you pause the music and lock the screen, tucking it away.

8:30 p.m. Perfect.

“Almost ready!” you call back. “Be patient, Harper!”

Lian giggles at that, bouncing lightly on her heels. She’s been vibrating with excitement ever since Roy told her that tonight was the night she was finally allowed to stay up for New Year’s. 

She doesn’t need to know that every clock in the house has been secretly moved forward a few hours, and that the video on the living room TV was a prerecorded countdown. All she knows is that she’s a big girl who gets to stay up past her bedtime. And she insisted that a big deal required dressing up.

So here you are.

You sling your purse over your shoulder, smoothing your dress out of habit, then look down just in time to see Lian carefully picking up her own “purse”, which was really the tiny wristlet pouch that came with yours, now stuffed with exactly three things: a bracelet themed after Donna’s hero costume, a “map” of the house, and a fancy dollar from Canada that Oliver had gifted her.

She catches you watching and straightens, beaming up at you as she inches closer. You smiling crouching down in front of her, until you’re eye level again and hold out your hand. “Okay,” you whisper. “Are you ready to surprise Daddy?”

Her eyes widen instantly as a sweet giggle escapes her. “Ready!” She whispers back. She slips her small hand into yours without hesitation, and you guide her along to unlock the bedroom door slowly, opening just enough to peek into the hallway.

The hallway is empty and quiet, no sneaky redhead in sight.

You tiptoe together toward the stairs, moving slowly so her shoes don’t thump too loudly. When you reach the top step, you pause and gently tug her closer, crouching just enough that the banister hides you both. You peer down together, shoulders shaking as you stifle matching giggles.

Roy is in the living room, acting completely unaware that he’s being watched.

He’s kneeling on the rug, adjusting the coffee table with exaggerated care, lining up three plastic champagne glasses, all filled with a fizzy apple juice. He glances up at the wall clock, muttering just loud enough that Lian can hear that it's “11:30 and you two are going to miss New Year’s.” 

You feel Lian’s whole body vibrate beside you, and you know it’s taking every ounce of willpower for her not to yell surprise! 

You giggle, straightening with Lian and clear your throat.

Roy freezes for a second before standing and whipping his head in the the direction of you two in mock surprise. For a moment, he just stares.

His mouth parts slightly, his gaze moves from you to Lian and back again, taking in the matching dresses, the purses, the way Lian is standing straighter than you’ve ever seen her, chest puffed out with pride.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Wow.”

Lian can’t contain herself any longer. She squeezes your hand once, then lets go and takes off down the stairs. You quickly follow behind her in case she trips, just as Roy moves to the bottom of the stairs as well.

“Daddy!” she squeals, launching off the last few steps without hesitation– okay, that’s something you have to talk to her about later.

Roy drops to one knee without thinking, arms opening just in time for her to slam into him. He laughs as he wraps her up tight and buries his face in her hair, and you don’t miss the sniff he does; you made sure Lian smelled like a mini bakery after all.

“You two,” he says, affection and wonder bleeding into his words as he looks up at you over her shoulder. His gaze drags over your body with a deep appreciation. “You look… incredible.”

Lian pulls back just enough to grin up at him, pointing between the two of you with absolute glee. “We match.”

“I see that,” he chuckles, brushing his thumb gently over the gloss on her lips, eyebrows lifting in mock disbelief. “Is that makeup?”

“Just like Mama,” she declares proudly, puckering her lips into an exaggerated kissy face so he can see properly.

Roy’s expression softens further as he kisses her nose and scoops Lian up easily, settling her onto his hip, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “Yeah,” he says quietly, warmth threading through every word. “Just like Mama. My two beautiful girls.”

You beam, reaching the last step off the stairs, your heart growing fully at the way he says it. He reaches out with his free arm, hooking it around your waist and tugging you closer, already leaning in to steal some lipgloss for himself so all of you could match.

Lian reacts instantly.

Smack.

Her palm lands square in his chest, sharp enough to make a sound. “Daddy!” she scolds, eyes wide with outrage. “No kissing!”

Roy freezes mid-lean, blinking down at her in genuine confusion. “What? Why not?” he asks, baffled. “I didn’t peak!”

She sighs heavily, rolling her eyes to the best of her ability, which looks more like she’s just looking up then down. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, huffing. “You can’t kiss Mama until the New Years.”

You and Roy lock eyes over her head instinctively, a habit whenever Lian says or does something cute.. His brows lift, amusement flickering through his expression, while your lips twitch as you fight a smile.

“Pumpkin, that’s not–” he starts, shifting her in his arms, clearly preparing to correct her and get the kiss he’s been deprived of for the last hour.

You hum, cutting him off, and you step closer just to take Lian from him. “That’s right, baby,” you say sweetly as you bounce her in your arms to make her giggle. “No kissing until the New Year.”

Roy stares at you as if you’ve personally betrayed him, because to him, you did. Roy basically ripped his heart from his chest. “You’re siding with her?”

“Always,” you reply lightly, grinning as you turn toward the living room. Lian giggles, peering over your shoulder to stick her tongue at her dad.

Roy groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face before going to collapse dramatically on the couch. “This is unbelievable,” he mutters. “I leave you two alone for an hour, and I don’t even get one kiss.”

You laugh as you join him on the couch, Lian already wriggling down to inspect the drinks, taking sips from all three of them like you knew she would, and she beams back at you when they taste all the same, clearly excited that she gets to drink the grown-up juice when it's really just apple juice mixed with Sprite.

The three of you spend the next 29 minutes messing around, dancing around the living room, kicking balloons around and letting Lian dramatically announce the time every few minutes, grinning, watching her bounce on the couches higher with each minute that passes.

By the time the TV reaches 11:59:01, Lian is rivalling Wally’s vibrations, sat between you and Roy, kicking her feet out. Her head keeps going from the TV to you, then Roy, her hair now frizzy and undone from the curls you pinned just 40 minutes ago.

“I stayed up sooooooo long!” She whispers, giggling to herself, “Mama, it’s almost New Years!”

Roy chuckles, ruffling her hair, leaning closer, “You did, baby, look at you being a big girl.”

She beams at that, smiling almost too wide for her tiny face. The countdown video starts to flash at the last 30 seconds, and Lian squeals, clapping her hands, making you and Roy laugh.

“Okay, sweetheart,” You coo, brushing her hair from her face, “It’s time.”

She nods excitedly, reaching to grasp your fingers while reaching for Roy’s arm, squeezing hard as she sits up. 

“Ten!” She shouts, followed by Roy joining in, grinning, “Nine!”

“Fiv- no Eight-- Seven!” She fumbled for a moment, shaking her head, leaning forward, eyes locked on the clock, making you snort as you announce “Six!”

Her voice grows louder with every number, laughter breaking through as she kicks her feet, scrambling to stand by the time the timer reaches 3 seconds. She's gripping your sleeve to steady herself, eyes gleaming as the TV reflects all sorts of colours onto her face.

“Two– One!”

“Happy New Years!” She screams, hopping off the couch as confetti bursts across the screen. She laughs, reaching to grab balloons and throw them up. You and Roy match her laughter with Roy kicking a balloon up high for her to chase after, while you take a few photos.

You just put down your phone when you feel Roy shift closer, the couch cushion next to you where Lian was just standing dipping under his big-ass weight. There is a familiar mischievous grin tugging at his lips that you spot out of the corner of your eye before you even face him.

Lian turns back, panting slightly as she manages to catch the balloon Roy kicked, gaze snapping to him like she suddenly remembered the rules she forced on him earlier. “Daddy!” She grins, “You can kiss Mama now–” 

The words barely leave her lips before Roy pounces. He’s quick to cup your face and lean in dramatically as his lips messily land on yours. The most obnoxious “Mwah!” Leaving his lips before he shifts to properly kiss you, it’s playful and silly enough to have you laughing into it while his hands shift from your face to your hips to pull you closer. 

Lian claps her hands, bouncing in place at his dramatics, “Yay!! New Year's Kiss!!” 

You try to pull back for a moment, breathless and giggling, but Roy only laughs in response, chasing after your lips with his, clearly enjoying himself. You push lightly at his chest, laughing even harder now, your efforts pointless as one of his hands reaches up to grab yours to pull you even closer. 

“Roy–” You gasp, face feeling warm from his kisses, your smile wide enough to make your face ache, “Hey!”

You can’t see it, but Lian’s brows have ridden up high as she rushes closer, “Mama needs to breathe!” She tries to grab Roy’s sleeve with both hands, giggling as she attempts to pull him off, obviously recognizing this as silly play between you two. “Daddy! Mama needs air–”

Roy pulls back just for a second, which you immediately use to take in dramatic gulps of air as you turn to face Lian, who beams at her success at “rescuing” you, but you watch her face drop when her gaze goes back to her dad, and you find out why moments later.

He laughs loudly and quickly sweeps her into his arms, throwing her up in the air just shy of giving you a heart attack before catching her to plop right in your arms. She shrieks in delight, small hands fumbling to grip the front of your dress. 

“Oh no, Lian–” You manage between laughs, “Daddy’s going to–”

Too late. 

Roy dives in, peppering Lian’s cheeks with exaggerated kisses, blowing raspberries in between to be as loud as possible. She squeals, kicking her legs, trying to hide her face against you as uncontrollable laughter escapes her. “Mama– Mama help!” 

You share the shortest look with Roy, deciding that you will, in fact help. You adjust Lian slightly, just enough that she looks at you, her face red, clearly eating up the attention before helping Roy smother her in kisses.

You start to pepper one side of her face as Roy does the other until she’s a breathless, squirmy mess of squeals and giggles. You both gradually falter when you notice her face turning a lil too red, letting her take a few deep breaths to calm down. 

Lian collapses against you, cheeks flushed and hair fully ruined now as she grips the front of your dress hard, burying her face into your neck. You feel her tiny puffs of breath on you as she calms down while Roy reaches to smooth out her hair. 

You hear her let out tiny giggles over New Year’s kisses and how silly her Daddy and Mama are. You smile, pressing a kiss to her hair before you look up to meet Roy’s gaze that’s already locked on your face. 

Hours later, the giggles had long died down. Lian is tucked away in her bed, a smile seemingly permanently left on her face from all the love she got. She even brought a few balloons into her room when being carried up half asleep, which now sat on her bed. 

You linger by her bed for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall before sighing, leaning to press a kiss to her forehead before pulling away. You look back, whispering a “Happy New Year” before flicking off the light and stepping into the hall.

By the time you reach the doorframe into your shared bedroom, the mood has shifted completely. 

A few candles had been lit up and placed with care around the room, letting the smell of vanilla and cinnamon hit you softly. Your gaze drops to the rose petals that are scattered across the floor leading to the bed, paired with some soft music.

Standing in the middle of the room in a scatter of tastefully thrown petals is Roy. 

How did he manage this in the 5 minutes it took you tuck Lian in?

He holds two glasses of actual champagne, bubbling enough to let you know he managed to pop open a fresh bottle without you hearing somehow. The grin he wears is much different from the playful one he had given you downstairs. This one holds much more promise, with his gaze locked on your face, taking in your reaction. 

You smile, biting your bottom lip as you step in fully and let the door click shut behind you and lean back against it, meeting his gaze with a word as you raise a brow teasingly in invitation. His grin widens as he immediately makes his way towards you.

The hours blur by for the two of you after that as the two of you wait till the actual New Year. The bottle quickly ends up empty, abandoned on the dresses with your glasses. Somewhere along the way, you'd changed out of your dress into a loose nightgown, while Roy ditched his dress pants to stand in his boxers. 

He kept his dressshirt on– technically at least. It hangs open, unbuttoned and wrinkled by your hands, lipstick marks littered across his jaw and collar. Tying you to the crime scene is your messy and smudged makeup that neither of you pays mind to.

His hands rest on your hips as he sways with you to the music, nothing dramatic, just slow, mindless movements as you two press close. Your forehead rests against his shoulder, laughing quietly when he mumbles something ridiculous into your hair. He responds by reaching to cup your face to press a lazy kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, teasing you. 

“God,” He rasps, pulling away to look down at you adoringly, his expression matching the way Lian looked at you earlier when she was sitting on your bed watching you get ready. “I love you so much–” He squeezes your cheek, leaning to bump his nose with yours, “I’m so happy it’s you. Fuck– I love you.”

You beam up at him, the warmth blossoming in your chest straight to your face as you turn just enough to press a kiss to his palm. You linger for a moment, closing your eyes as you lean your cheek back into his hand.

“I love you too, Roy,” You whisper back softly, “Our little family means everything to me.”

You hear his breath catch, and you’re quick to open your eyes to meet his… watery ones? The tipsy smile he’s had plastered all night flatters as his eyes dart all over your face. Your eyes widen slightly in worry, but it’s quickly soothed by his thumb grazing your cheek like you’re something precious.

“I–” He blinks before swallowing hard, trying to put his thoughts into words. He gives you a shaky smile, and for a moment, you wonder if the champagne he picked out was a bit more alcoholic than he let on. He whispers your name and tilts your face up higher, his thumb moving to trace over your bottom lip.

Before he can spit out whatever heartfelt confession, a distant crack grabs your attention. You turn toward the window just in time to see a burst of colours against the night sky– you blink your heart picking up again as your gaze snaps to your nightstand to your alarm clock.

12:00 AM. 

You look back at Roy, a hand sliding up to rest over his face while your other moves to press against his chest, “Happy New Year, baby.” Your voice is soft and gentle as you start to back him towards your shared bed.

He doesn’t resist, he just laughs, hands dropping to your waist as he falls back on the bed, pulling you with him so you land on top. The mattress gives both of you a gentle bounce, scattering some of the rose petals as his hands move to grip your hips as you settle your thighs on either side of him. 

You don’t say a word as you cup his face and lean down, his head tilts up to let his lips meet yours in a slow, deep kiss. He sighs into it like this alone has lulled him into the most content he's been all his life, and maybe it has.

When you pull back slightly, his hand reaches up to cradle your jaw again as he rests his forehead against yours, a smile gracing his freckled face. 

“Happy New Year, Sweetheart.”

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A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I am sorry for going MIA yet again, the holidays turned out to be a lil rough for me. I finally got to be home only to get into a few fights with my brothers... But its okay that only leaves me with new inspo for Wayne!Reader :D. Though I have not posted, I have been writing, just felt a bit too bummed to actually proofread and post, but I have felt motivated by the new year, so I'll start rolling them out in the days to come!!

I have started the Kyrptonian!Reader fic, I just had to rewatch all of season 1 of Invincible and also refresh my brain with Superman lore. While planning it I realized with Nolan not being Omni-man and this being based more in DC comics I have a lot of story building to do so the first post for the series will be more of a prequeal :).

Anyway, my first post of the year Is some Roy fluff since all I've been posting for him has been angst... Hope you all enjoy and that your year is filled with love! Mwah!!

Attached below is just some evidence of the peer pressure Ive been under today. Her birthday is coming up, and she's getting bold with her requests @vee08 [I gave up on the header mb]

trust that everything will fall into place without you forcing it there.

I’m officially taking one-shot requests for Bart Allen. I got more than 1 friend urging me to write, plus everyone here so!! Yay it’s happening!

That being said, if there’s a specific version you’d like of him, feel free to send me the show/comic you’d like him based on, so I can take a read/watch (I also just want recs for more content of him <3)

Annnnd to the anon that sent in a request for Bart ages ago (if you’re still here), I will get to it first, I promise. Anti-hero!Reader, then bat!reader w/ crushes, and another route for how "The Cost of Being Scene" could've went :D. I'll space those out along with an idea I got for a one-shot with Roy, Civilian!Reader, and lil Lian (fluff for once).

I'll be starting the Half-Kryptonian!Reader this weekend. My last shift for the semester is on Sunday, so I’m about to lock in on that series >:)

[Again, before I really start writing, now is the time to send in any requests/suggestions that you wanna see. That includes moments with Clark, Mark and the Kents + Graysons in general. Also!! Reader needs a hero name… and Vee is making fun of all of the names I made so far, so plz help. I may not use all the suggestions, but I’ll appreciate and love reading each one :) ofc if I end up using one, I will credit you!]

Anyway, thank you all so so much for the love, and I love you. Mwah! (Also, what’s the right way to respond when people reblog and add a comment there? I’ve seen a few, and I’m like !!! Do I just reblog the reblog and respond… I promise I’m not ignoring them. I just overthink every social interaction 😔 )

Helloooo!

I wanted a blog dedicated to reblogging content (art, writing and everything inbetween) from incredibly talented creators, so ta-dah! :)

If you’re here to check out the lovely work please make sure to read the tags, A/N and TW/CW before reading. I’ll be reblog basically anything and everything from various fandoms (probably mainly dc but who knows what I’ll come across)

That being said if you have a recommendation for a fic or author… PLEASE tell me!!! Especially if it’s your our work that you wanna share :)

Anyway take care, mwah!

★ Wayne!Reader

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2 (Here :P)

Beat-reader: @vee08, who also made the banner and encouraged every little thing that came Readers way :)

A/N: Hello, lovely people!!! I am officially free from my evil exams. I spent the last 4 days typing this up. A big 20 pages on my Google Docs and 7K words to make up for my absence.

Before you guys read a few things to note: 1) Characters may come off as OOC. This is all through the POV of the reader, who is far from a relable narator with one too many grudges. 2) I LOVE Tim Drake. Any Tim slander in this chapter is purely for plot and... maybe not entirely warranted. [I have another fic idea I will post soon that features him as a love interest :P]. 3) You guys will probably hate the outfit and name reveal near the end of the chapter :) @vee08, and I were talking, and all I wanted was pink, but she added the final detail to make it so much worse, so blame her <3. The name, unfortunately, was my idea </3. I hope you guys enjoy the read :) I'll respond to everything I wasn't able to before my exams before I get started on that Mark fic >:)

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A week passes, and nothing changes. No texts. No calls. No dramatic “we need to talk” ambush at breakfast. Dick didn’t stop by the manor and to your knowledge, he didn't call Alfred or Bruce to snitch.

You still check your phone anyway. Once in the morning, once at night, thumb hovering over recent calls and checking your voicemail in case you missed it.

Every time you check your phone, you see nothing but random texts from people you couldn't care less about. Nothing from Dick.

You decide not to dwell on it too much, instead putting your effort and time into being a model citizen in the most irritating way possible.

You attend two charity lunches in one week. You smile for the photographers and let your name trend for something boring, like donating a crazy amount of money to a women’s shelter or an orphanage. You don’t bother reading fine print or whatever tragic backstory the cause is for, you just sign the cheque.