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urdreamydoodles · 17 days ago

Note

For DC, would you mayhaps write about picking them up when they aren't expecting, or just didn't think you could, almighty writer?

DC COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You pick them up as if they weighed absolutely nothing

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara, Dinah Lance, Wally West, Victor Stone (Cyborg), Garfield Logan (Beast Boy) & Lobo

Reply to anon: If I understood your request correctly (I really hope so), I love you for this request, it was so fun to write this headcanon.

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

- It is a rare thing to catch Bruce Wayne off guard, a feat most would deem impossible. He is a man of precision, calculation, and control, his every move rehearsed in the dark solitude of his mind long before it is executed. And yet, when you lift him into your arms with the ease of a shadow passing over the city, all his legendary foresight shatters in an instant. His breath stutters—just once, imperceptible to anyone but you—and his gloved hands instinctively grasp your shoulders, as if to confirm the absurd reality of what is happening. The weight of Gotham’s protector, cradled so effortlessly against you, is a secret victory that sends a slow smile curling at the edges of your lips.

- "Tch," he exhales, the sound more air than voice, his dark eyes narrowing in something between astonishment and begrudging amusement. "You’ve been holding out on me." His pride does not allow him to admit the full extent of his surprise, but the way his fingers tighten ever so slightly against your arms betrays him. Bruce Wayne is not a man who enjoys being caught unaware, and yet—there is something in the way you handle him, something in the unwavering steadiness of your grip, that quiets the usual tension that knots his body like a bowstring drawn too tight.

- He does not struggle. He does not order you to put him down. No, he merely tilts his head, calculating, the sharp angles of his face betraying the ghost of a smirk. "I assume you have a reason for this," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp against your ear. "Or do you just enjoy surprising me?" It is a challenge, an invitation, and perhaps, in some small way, a confession. For all his formidable strength, for all the ways he has trained himself to never relinquish control—there is a part of him that does not mind being held by you.

- Later, when the moment has passed and Gotham calls him away once more, he does not mention it. But you notice the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his fingers brush against your wrist just a little longer than necessary. And when, the next time, you reach for him with that same effortless power, you swear you see the corner of his lips quirk upward—just for a second—before he allows himself to fall into your embrace.

Kal-El (Clark Kent, Superman)

- The sky belongs to him, the very air bending to his will, the world itself no heavier than a breath upon his palm. And yet, when you lift him into your arms, when you cradle the Man of Steel as if he were something as light and effortless as a whisper, it is his turn to be left breathless. His blue eyes widen—just slightly, just enough for you to catch the flicker of disbelief that dances through them like a shooting star. "Whoa," he exhales, the sheer sincerity in his voice making you laugh. "Did you—did you just—?"

- He does not finish his sentence, because the answer is obvious. He is here, weightless in your grasp, and despite all reason, he cannot quite seem to wrap his mind around it. He has lifted mountains, shifted tectonic plates, carried entire cities upon his back—but this, this is something entirely different. He peers down at you with a mixture of awe and delight, a boyish grin breaking across his features, and suddenly, he is not Superman, not the Last Son of Krypton, but simply Clark—a farm boy who has just been shown a new miracle in a world that he thought he had seen from every angle.

- "Well," he laughs, resting his hands lightly on your shoulders, his touch warm, steady. "I guess turnabout is fair play." He is not used to being the one lifted, the one held, and there is something undeniably endearing about the way he lets himself be carried, as if surrendering to the simple joy of the moment. His grin softens into something fonder, something gentler, and his voice dips to a lower timbre, laced with that impossible tenderness that only he can wield so effortlessly. "You are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

- Later, as you stand together beneath the open sky, he will wrap his arms around you and lift you high into the air, spinning you in a slow, weightless circle, as if to remind you that the universe still bows to his strength. But the truth, the quiet, unspoken truth, is that he will remember this moment—not for the sheer impossibility of it, not for the surprise of being lifted, but for the way you looked at him as you did it. As if he was something precious. As if he was something worth carrying.

Barry Allen (The Flash)

- One second, he is standing before you, mid-sentence, hands moving animatedly as he rambles about some impossible feat of science, some breakthrough that only his mind could possibly keep up with. And the next—he is airborne. Suspended. A blur of red and gold frozen in time as you hoist him effortlessly into your arms, his entire train of thought derailing so spectacularly that for the first time in what is possibly ever, Barry Allen is at a complete and utter loss for words.

- His blue eyes blink, wide with sheer, unfiltered astonishment. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, as if struggling to find a logical explanation for what just happened. "What—how did you—" He pauses, glances down at himself, then back at you. "Okay. Alright. This is fine. This is normal. Totally normal. This is a thing that happens." His words come faster now, a breathless tumble of disbelief and delight, and despite the initial shock, there is no fear—only pure, infectious amusement.

- And then he laughs. Oh, he laughs—bright and bubbling over, like the crackle of lightning against an open sky, his body practically vibrating with sheer giddiness. "I mean, I know I’ve swept you off your feet before, but this—this is a whole new level." His arms loop around your neck, dramatic and theatrical, his head tilting back as he lets himself be cradled as if he were some fairytale damsel. "Be honest, you’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?"

- He will tease you about this for weeks, recounting the moment with exaggerated flair to anyone who will listen. But there will also be the quiet moments—when he leans against you just a little more than usual, when his hands linger at your waist as if remembering the steady strength of your arms. And maybe, just maybe, the next time you catch him at full speed, he will let you lift him once more—just to feel, for a fleeting moment, what it’s like to be caught by you.

Diana of Themyscira (Wonder Woman)

- The daughter of gods, sculpted from sacred clay, raised among warriors whose strength is the stuff of legend. To surprise Diana is no easy task, for she has spent centuries honing herself into something divine, something unyielding. And yet—when you lift her into your arms, when you cradle her as if she were no heavier than a whispered prayer, the Goddess of Truth is rendered momentarily speechless.

- Her lips part, her brows lifting ever so slightly, and though she does not gasp, does not falter, there is an undeniable flicker of astonishment in her gaze. "You are stronger than you appear," she muses, her voice warm, touched with something akin to admiration. A warrior recognizes another, and in this moment, she sees you in a new light—not merely as her love, but as something formidable, something unexpected.

- And then, she smiles. Not a small smile, not a coy smirk, but something radiant—something that reaches her eyes, that sets her entire face alight with unmistakable joy. "Impressive," she hums, resting a steady hand against your shoulder. "Though, I must admit, I rather enjoy this perspective." There is a teasing lilt to her voice, a challenge dancing at the edges of her words. It is rare for anyone to hold her in such a way, but she finds, quite unexpectedly, that she does not mind it at all.

- Later, she will return the favor with ease, sweeping you into her arms without effort, carrying you across battlefields, across cities, across oceans. But in that moment, in the quiet space between surprise and laughter, she allows herself to rest in your hold, to relish the warmth of your embrace, to be held—not as a warrior, not as a princess, but simply as a woman who loves, and is loved in return.

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

- Arthur Curry is not a man accustomed to feeling small. He is a king, a warrior, a force of nature bound in muscle and salt, the weight of oceans resting upon his shoulders. He has wrestled sea monsters the size of mountains, stood unyielding against the fury of the abyss, and emerged from every battle with the untamed, feral grin of a man who belongs to the storm. But when you lift him—when your arms curl around him with a strength that defies reason, hoisting him off solid ground as if he were nothing but driftwood—his entire world tilts. His golden eyes widen, stunned, his calloused hands gripping instinctively at your shoulders as if the sea itself has betrayed him.

- "What the—?" His voice is a startled rumble, a sharp bark of laughter cutting through the shock. His thick brows furrow, then lift, his expression wavering somewhere between indignation and absolute, boyish delight. He has never been handled like this, not even by the tides he calls home, and it is as absurd as it is exhilarating. "Alright, alright, I get it," he grumbles, though his smirk betrays him. "You’ve been hiding those muscles from me, huh?" There is no protest, no attempt to reclaim his dominance—only the rough, teasing warmth of a man who knows when to yield to the unexpected.

- He tests you, just a little, shifting his weight in your arms as if daring you to drop him. But you don’t. Not even close. And something in his grin turns sharper, more wicked, because he loves this—loves being surprised, loves the way you refuse to let him be the only powerful one in the room. "Damn," he chuckles, low and approving, his gaze sweeping over you with something hungry, something possessive. "That’s actually kinda hot."

- When you finally put him down, he doesn’t step back. No, he lingers—crowds close, his massive frame still buzzing with the thrill of it. And then, without warning, his arms are around you, hoisting you off your feet with ease, spinning you in a full, dizzying circle before crushing you against his chest. "Had to return the favor," he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with laughter. "But next time, sweetheart? Give a king some warning before you knock him off his throne."

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

- Hal Jordan is weightless before you can even blink. A man accustomed to soaring, to the rush of flight beneath his ribs, he has never once imagined himself being lifted—not without the emerald glow of his will forging the sky beneath his feet. But now, here, in your arms, held effortlessly with no ring, no power beyond the sheer impossible strength of you—Hal is, for the first time in his life, truly speechless.

- "You—hold on, what?" His voice cracks, laughter bubbling out of him in a disbelieving rush. His hands press against your shoulders, his pulse hammering with something electric, something wild. "Oh, no way. No freaking way." His mouth splits into a grin, bright and reckless, his green eyes alight with sheer, giddy amusement. "Are you messing with me? Is this some kind of—?" But no, there’s no trickery, no constructs at play, just you, standing solid beneath him while the world spins wildly out of sync with everything he thought he knew.

- And he loves it. Oh, he loves it. Because Hal Jordan lives for the unexpected, for the thrill of new frontiers, for the rush of facing the impossible head-on. And you—lifting him like he’s nothing, standing there with that knowing smirk—you are a whole new adventure, and he is utterly, shamelessly hooked. "This is amazing," he declares, wrapping his arms around your neck, leaning in close, grinning like a devil who has just been handed the keys to heaven. "You do realize I’m never gonna let you live this down, right?"

- He doesn’t stop talking about it. Ever. The next time the League gathers, he flings an arm around your shoulder and grins at the others. "You guys won’t believe this," he announces, smug and gleeful. "This one? Picked me up like I was a damn sack of potatoes. I mean, look at me! Look at this!" And when the teasing inevitably turns back on him, when Barry is cackling and Diana is arching a knowing brow, Hal just shrugs, utterly unapologetic. "Hey," he says, looping his arms around you once more, flashing you that impossibly charming, infuriatingly smug grin. "What can I say? I’m into it."

Oliver Queen (Green Arrow)

- Oliver Queen has spent his life dancing on the edge of danger, slipping through shadows and fire with the unshakable confidence of a man who always lands on his feet. But this—this was not in his playbook. One moment, he’s standing there, all easy smirks and smooth arrogance, and the next? His feet leave the ground, his entire world tilting as you lift him with effortless strength, cradling him as if he were something delicate. And for the first time in years, Oliver Queen has no immediate comeback.

- "…You’ve got to be kidding me." His voice is flat, stunned, as his hands instinctively grip your shoulders. His green eyes blink once, twice, his mouth parting in absolute disbelief. "Did that just—did you just—?" And then it happens—the breathless chuckle, the slow realization, the sudden shift from shock to pure, unfiltered amusement. A wide, toothy grin breaks across his face, bright as wildfire, and before you know it, he’s laughing, full-bodied and unrestrained. "Oh, I love this," he gasps between chuckles, eyes gleaming. "I love this. Are you seeing this? Someone take a picture—no, wait, don’t, I have a reputation to uphold."

- He throws himself into the bit immediately, draping an arm over his forehead as if he’s some swooning noble. "My hero," he sighs dramatically, peeking at you from beneath his lashes. "How will I ever repay you for saving me from the perils of standing?" His grin is wicked, challenging, but there’s something beneath it—something warm, something fond, something that lingers even as his laughter fades into something quieter, something real.

- Later, when he’s sprawled beside you, still smirking, he nudges your side with his elbow. "You know," he muses, tapping his chin, "I think I might need saving again sometime soon." And then, without warning, he flings himself at you, arms wrapping around your neck with all the grace of a man who knows damn well you’ll catch him. "Quick, sweetheart," he grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Before gravity kicks back in."

John Constantine

- John Constantine has seen many things in his life—things that would shatter the minds of lesser men, things that slither and whisper in the dark, things that crawl beneath the skin of the world and rot it from the inside out. But this? This is something else entirely. One second, he’s standing there, cigarette between his lips, coat draped lazily over his shoulders, and the next? He’s airborne. Lifted. Weightless. And utterly, utterly done with this reality.

- "Bloody hell," he curses, his usual rasp of sarcasm momentarily failing him. His cigarette nearly tumbles from his lips as he grips at your arms, wide-eyed, indignant. "You having a laugh, love?" But you don’t waver, don’t so much as break a sweat, and that realization sends something flickering through his gaze—something wary, something intrigued, something dangerously close to impressed.

- "Well, that’s just embarrassing," he mutters, exhaling smoke through his nose, tilting his head as he eyes you with newfound consideration. "And here I thought I was the one with all the tricks up me sleeve." He shifts in your arms, testing the hold, then smirks, lazy and sharp. "Alright then. Carry on, darling. Just make sure you don’t drop me—I’d hate to spill me pint."

- Later, when he’s sitting with you, fingers tapping against his glass, he glances your way with something softer hidden beneath the bite of his words. "Next time," he murmurs, swirling his drink, "maybe give a bloke a warning before you decide to turn his world upside down, yeah?" But there’s no real protest, no real annoyance. Just the lingering, undeniable truth—he liked it. He liked you. And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous magic of all.

Roy Harper (Arsenal)

- Roy Harper has been thrown, knocked down, and sent flying more times than he can count. But this? This is different. One second, he’s standing there—grinning, cocky, weight shifted lazily onto one hip—and the next, his feet leave the ground. For the first time in a long time, Roy Harper is caught instead of doing the catching. His mouth opens, a sharp inhale of surprise, his arms flailing for balance, but there’s nothing for him to do except accept it. And he absolutely, completely does not know how to handle that.

- "H-hold up—wait—what the hell?" The words tumble from his lips in a startled bark of laughter, his hands instinctively clutching at your shoulders. His blue eyes are wide, scanning your face for some kind of explanation. "You just—how did you—?" His brain stutters over itself, trying to make sense of it. It’s not that he thinks you’re weak—hell no—but he knows how heavy he is, how solidly he’s built, and the fact that you lifted him like he was nothing? That’s something else entirely.

- Then, of course, the reality of it sinks in, and Roy Harper, being Roy Harper, does what he does best—he leans into it. "Damn, babe," he whistles, his signature smirk creeping across his face. "If I’d known you were this strong, I’d have made you carry me around ages ago." He shifts slightly in your arms, testing your grip, then settles in with an exaggerated sigh, draping an arm over his forehead like a damsel in distress. "Guess I don’t need to hit the gym anymore—got myself a personal lifter right here."

- And when you finally put him down? He doesn’t walk away. No, he sticks close, bumping his hip against yours, looking up at you with a mix of mischief and something warmer. "You’re full of surprises," he murmurs, his voice dropping just slightly, almost thoughtful. And then, with a wicked grin, he adds, "So... how do you feel about carrying me to bed, sweetheart?"

Koriand’r (Starfire)

- Koriand’r is no stranger to flight, to weightlessness, to the effortless way she moves through the sky with the sun’s fire at her back. But being lifted by you—by your hands, your strength, your unwavering confidence—is something she has never felt before. And it stuns her. Not out of fear, nor shock, nor disbelief—no, it is something softer, something warmer, something that spreads through her chest like the first rays of dawn.

- "Oh!" The delighted gasp slips from her lips as her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, golden eyes blinking in wide-eyed surprise. For a moment, she simply looks at you, studying your face, as if committing this feeling to memory. And then, as quickly as the surprise came, it melts into sheer, unrestrained joy. "Oh, my love!" she exclaims, her voice a bright melody of laughter, her fingers tangling in your hair as she tilts her head. "This is wonderful!"

- She does not hesitate to make herself comfortable, resting easily in your hold, her warmth seeping into your skin like sunlight. "You are so strong!" she praises, her voice dripping with admiration, her eyes glowing with pure, genuine awe. "Why did you not tell me before? We could have done this so many times!" There is no embarrassment, no hesitation—only the full, boundless embrace of a woman who loves fiercely, who takes nothing for granted, who cherishes this moment for all it is.

- And later, when you place her back down, she does not simply walk away. No, she hovers, her hands still cradling your face, her lips pressing a kiss—soft, lingering, grateful—against your cheek. "I must carry you next," she declares, her voice rich with excitement. "It is only fair!" And then, before you can protest, she sweeps you into her arms, laughing as she soars into the sky, twirling you through the air in a radiant, dizzying dance of love.

Kara Zor-El (Supergirl)

- Kara Zor-El is used to being the strongest person in the room. She has spent her life holding back, careful with every touch, every movement, every breath, always hyper-aware of her own power. But you—lifting her so effortlessly, holding her as if her strength does not matter—it knocks the breath from her lungs in a way no villain, no kryptonite, ever has.

- "Wha—wait, what?" Her voice is higher than usual, startled, her hands gripping your shoulders instinctively as her legs dangle in the air. Her wide, blue eyes blink rapidly, scanning your face for some sort of answer. "You—you picked me up?" She sounds offended for a split second before the reality of it truly hits her, before the corners of her lips twitch and something suspiciously close to a giggle bubbles in her throat. "You picked me up."

- And then she’s laughing—full-bodied, bright, joyful—because it’s so ridiculous, so absurd, and so absolutely wonderful. "Oh my god," she wheezes, her head dropping against your shoulder as she shakes with laughter. "I love this." She leans back, resting easily in your arms, grinning up at you with an expression so full of delight it’s almost blinding. "How are you this strong? Have you been holding out on me? Are you secretly Kryptonian? Oh my god, are we long-lost cousins? Should I call Clark?"

- When you finally put her down, she immediately tests you again—jumping at you with zero warning, wrapping her arms around your neck, trusting you to catch her. And when you do? She beams. "Again," she demands, eyes bright with exhilaration. "Again!" And suddenly, she’s obsessed. She will never let this go. You have doomed yourself to a lifetime of Supergirl dramatically flinging herself into your arms at the most inconvenient moments.

Slade Wilson (Deathstroke)

- Slade Wilson does not like surprises. He is a man who calculates every outcome, who moves with precision, who keeps his world meticulously controlled. He does not get caught off guard. But this—the sudden shift in gravity, the impossible strength behind your touch, the way his feet leave the ground—this is a surprise so profound that, for one fleeting second, the legendary Deathstroke is stunned.

- His single eye narrows sharply, his body tensing instinctively, a thousand battle instincts screaming at him to react. But there is no attack, no enemy—only you, holding him like he is something fragile, something weightless, something you can control without effort. And that—that—is what truly catches him off guard. "Well," he rumbles, his voice dangerously low, "this is new."

- He does not panic. He does not flail or struggle. No, Slade Wilson merely analyzes, his sharp mind whirring as he studies your face, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly—so slowly it’s almost imperceptible—the corners of his lips twitch into something that is almost amusement. "You’ve been keeping secrets," he murmurs, the faintest ghost of a smirk curving his lips. "That’s dangerous."

- When you finally set him down, he does not step away. No, he lingers, his presence a solid, immovable force as he tilts his head, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. And then, just as you think the moment has passed, he reaches out—gripping your wrist with a strength that rivals your own. "My turn," he states simply, before sweeping you up effortlessly, his smirk widening as he watches your expression shift. "Now, let’s see how you handle surprises."

Kent Nelson (Doctor Fate)

- Kent Nelson is a man who has lived through centuries of battles, his mind tethered to the ancient wisdom of Nabu, weighed down by the knowledge of the cosmos. He is not easily shaken. He has fought demons, walked through dimensions where the laws of gravity bend and break, and seen the rise and fall of civilizations. And yet, for all his experience, for all his wisdom, nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the moment when you pick him up like he is no heavier than a feather caught in the wind.

- His body stills immediately, the flowing gold of his cloak pooling in your arms, his gauntleted hands frozen mid-motion as if his mind is struggling to catch up with his reality. He has faced eldritch horrors that defy comprehension, but this—this is something else entirely. "...Interesting." The word is measured, calm, but you can hear the faint edge of bewilderment in his voice. Beneath the helmet of Fate, his expression remains unreadable, but you can feel the way he is processing. Analyzing. Calculating how this is even possible.

- "There are few beings in existence who could accomplish this," he finally murmurs, and the weight of his words is almost laughable. But there is something else beneath them—something softer. Awe. Intrigue. A deep and abiding reverence for the unknown, for the mysteries of the universe that even he has yet to unravel. And right now? You are one of those mysteries. A puzzle he had not anticipated, but one he finds himself eager to solve. His fingers trail along your shoulder, light as a whisper, as if trying to feel the power beneath your skin.

- And then, in a rare moment of levity, the corners of his lips curve into something that is not quite a smile but something like it. "I wonder," he muses, "if Nabu knew about this." There is an unmistakable note of amusement in his voice, and you can tell—tell—that he is already planning the next time he can test your strength again. Doctor Fate may be bound to destiny, but Kent Nelson? Kent Nelson has just discovered something infinitely more interesting than fate itself: you.

Rachel Roth (Raven)

- Raven is used to control, to restraint. She has spent her life mastering herself, holding back, ensuring that nothing—not a single tremor of emotion—escapes without her permission. But control means nothing when you sweep her off her feet without warning. One moment, she is standing in the comfort of your presence, and the next, the world tilts—her balance stolen, gravity defied—and she finds herself cradled in your arms.

- "What—" The word is cut off, her breath catching in her throat, violet eyes wide and blinking as if she has glitched. It is not fear—Raven does not fear you—but it is shock, raw and unfiltered, slipping past the walls she has so carefully constructed. No one lifts her. No one dares. She is Raven, daughter of Trigon, wielder of darkness, but you—you lift her as though she is made of something far lighter, far softer. "...How?" The question is quiet, but laced with something dangerously close to wonder.

- And then, after a long, weighted pause, her lips part again. "Put me down." The words are flat, carefully neutral, but the telltale blush dusting her pale cheeks betrays her. You hold her a moment longer—just long enough to see the way her fingers twitch as if fighting the urge to grab onto you—and then, finally, you comply. The moment her feet touch the ground, she crosses her arms, tilting her chin slightly as if regaining her composure. But the faintest flicker of amusement sparks in her eyes. "You could have warned me."

- But later—later—when she thinks you aren’t looking, you catch her staring at you. Calculating. Considering. And the next time she finds herself in your arms? There is no sharp inhale, no startled demand to be put down. There is only the way her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, the way she allows herself to lean into your warmth. And if, just once, you hear the quietest whisper of "Again." as she buries her face in your neck, well... you say nothing.

Zatanna Zatara

- Zatanna is a performer. She has dazzled crowds, charmed audiences, and bent the very fabric of reality to her will with a flourish of her hands. She is a woman who makes the impossible look effortless. But what she does not expect—what she cannot predict—is you pulling a trick of your own. One moment, she is speaking, hands gesturing mid-sentence, and the next, she is in the air, her words dissolving into a startled gasp as she finds herself in your arms.

- "Well, hello there!" she exclaims, blinking in surprise before laughter spills from her lips, bright and genuine. "Was that part of the show? Because if so, I think I missed my cue." Her dark lashes flutter as she tilts her head, studying you with a slow, appreciative smirk. "And here I thought I was the one full of surprises." The twinkle in her eyes is unmistakable, a magician recognizing another masterful trick.

- "You have to tell me how you did that," she continues, wrapping her arms around your neck in a movement so seamless, so graceful, that it’s as if she was always meant to be there. "Strength spell? Secret training? Or—" she leans in, voice dropping to a playful whisper, "are you actually just a natural-born showstopper?" There is no flustered stammering, no embarrassment—only delight, only curiosity, only the unmistakable thrill of discovering something new.

- When you finally place her back down, she takes a step back, then claps her hands together. "Again." The demand is immediate, playful. "I need to know if it was a fluke! We must test this thoroughly." And just like that, you have created a monster. Zatanna will not let this go. From this day forward, any time she catches you off guard, she will jump at you just to see if you’ll catch her. And when you inevitably do? She’ll flash you that signature grin and purr, "Abracadabra, darling."

Dinah Lance (Black Canary)

- Dinah is a woman who stands her ground. She is not used to being swept off her feet—not figuratively, and certainly not literally. So when you do it, when you lift her with effortless ease, her first instinct is not to gasp, nor to flail. No, her first instinct is to fight. Her muscles tense instinctively, her fists clenching as if ready to counter, before her brain catches up and realizes—oh. Oh.

- "No way," she breathes, blinking as her lips part in pure, undiluted shock. "No. Freaking. Way." She actually leans back in your hold, looking at you with something between disbelief and sheer respect. "You’re kidding." Her voice wavers with something suspiciously close to laughter. "You did not just pick me up." But you did, and it is glorious.

- And then—because she is Dinah Lance—she grins. "Damn," she exhales, whistling low. "Okay, okay, I see you." And just like that, her shock melts into admiration, her blue eyes practically glowing with mischief. "Guess I better step up my training, huh? Can’t have my own girlfriend outmuscling me." She claps your shoulder when you set her down, shaking her head with a smirk. "That was impressive."

- But from that day forward? Dinah challenges you. Random push-up contests, lifting competitions, anything to test just how strong you really are. And if you ever lift her again? She just throws her head back and laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck and whispering, "Alright, babe—you win this round."

Wally West (The Flash)

- Wally West is used to moving faster than the eye can see, faster than thought, faster than the speed of sound. He is kinetic energy made flesh, a man who cannot be caught, cannot be contained. He is motion incarnate. So when you lift him off his feet—effortlessly—the sheer absurdity of it freezes him in place. His body, which has always been a blur of momentum, stops. And for the first time in his life, Wally West is utterly, completely still.

- "Whoa—whoa, whoa, whoa!" His voice cracks mid-exclamation, his arms flailing comically before his brain catches up. "What just happened? Did I trip? Did I pass out? Did I break the time stream again?" His hands immediately pat down his own chest, as if confirming that he is still in his body, that this is, in fact, reality. But the reality is this: you are holding him, carrying him without effort, and that? That should be impossible.

- His blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly as he stares at you in stunned disbelief. "You picked me up?" The words are barely above a whisper, his voice laced with an almost childlike awe. "You—just—picked me up?" And then, all at once, his expression shifts. His lips curl into a slow, mischievous grin, and a spark of amusement ignites in his gaze. "Oh, I see how it is," he drawls, looping his arms around your neck as if settling in. "You like sweeping me off my feet, huh?"

- From that moment forward, he turns it into a game. He will actively try to surprise you, using his speed to dodge your attempts—only to deliberately slow down at the last second so you can catch him anyway. And when you do? He laughs, bright and carefree, resting his forehead against yours with a smirk. "You got me again," he murmurs, voice warm with adoration. "Guess I’m falling for you all over again."

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

- Victor Stone is not easy to move, let alone lift. He is composed of reinforced titanium alloys, advanced cybernetics, a living fusion of man and machine. He knows exactly how much he weighs. He knows the sheer impossibility of what you are attempting. So when you do—when you lift him without struggle, without hesitation—his internal scanners glitch.

- "No way," he mutters, his voice layered with static interference as if his systems are struggling to process. His red cybernetic eye flickers slightly, running rapid recalibrations, recalculating physics itself. "Hold up—nah, this ain’t right." His brow furrows, fingers flexing as he subtly shifts his weight in your arms, testing your grip. But you do not falter. You hold him—steady, sure, unyielding. And for the first time in years, Victor Stone feels weightless.

- "I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended," he finally says, his tone a perfect balance of deadpan and deep amusement. "Like, damn, babe—this whole time, I thought I was the strong one." But beneath the teasing, there is something softer. Curiosity. Admiration. And something he does not voice, but you know he feels—trust. He has spent years reinforcing himself, ensuring that no one could ever carry him again, that he would never be helpless. And yet, in your arms, he does not feel lesser. He feels safe.

- When you finally set him down, he exhales a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. "Alright, alright—you got me," he admits, rolling his shoulders. "But next time? You gotta let me return the favor." And sure enough, he does. He waits for the perfect moment—when you least expect it—before scooping you up effortlessly, his deep laughter echoing as he grins down at you. "Yeah, see? Feels kinda nice, don’t it?"

Garfield Logan (Beast Boy)

- The moment you lift Garfield Logan, his brain short-circuits. His limbs flail wildly, his mouth opens in a silent gasp, and his entire body goes stiff as if he has just been yeeted into an alternate dimension. His emerald green eyes go comically wide, and his next breath comes out in a strangled, "WH—?!"

- "Did you just—?" His voice cracks mid-sentence. "Did you just pick me up?!" His hands instinctively grasp at your shoulders, but his fingers don’t clutch—they cling, as if his entire existence depends on holding on for dear life. "Dude. Babe. Love of my life. My entire world. Are you—are you even real? Because this? This should be illegal."

- And then, the realization fully hits him. The shock melts into something else. Something dangerous. His lips twitch, his expression morphing into pure gremlin energy. "Ohhh, this changes everything," he cackles, his voice practically vibrating with mischief. "You know what this means, right?" He leans in, his green skin practically glowing with delight. "You are now legally responsible for carrying me everywhere."

- And true to his word, he commits. The moment you set him down, he refuses to accept it. He will dramatically throw himself into your arms at every opportunity. Walking? Nope. Lifting weights? Absolutely not. Why would he ever do that when he has you? "Babe, please," he whines, arms outstretched, giving you the biggest, saddest puppy eyes imaginable. "I was made for this life. I belong in your arms. Carry me. Carry me like one of your French girls."

Lobo

- Lobo is not used to being moved—by anyone. He is a Czarnian, a being of unmatched strength and durability, a walking tank with enough raw power to go toe-to-toe with Superman. He has never been overpowered, never been handled. So when you do it—when you lift him with ease—his entire soul leaves his body.

- "What the frag?!" The expletive leaves him in a near roar, his crimson eyes blazing with shock. His first instinct is to fight, muscles tensing, but then he realizes—you’re not even struggling. You are holding him like he weighs nothing. The Main Man. The Last Czarnian. In your arms. And it is so baffling, so completely ridiculous, that he just... stares.

- And then—then—he starts laughing. Howling. "Oh, this is priceless," he chokes out between laughs, his voice booming. "You just—pfft—you just picked up Lobo like he’s a damn kitten?!" His laughter is raucous, unrestrained, but there is no resentment. No wounded pride. If anything, he looks at you with a newfound respect. "Alright, babe, I see how it is. You got guts."

- But Lobo is not one to be one-upped. "Next time, though?" He leans in close, his grin sharp and challenging. "I ain’t goin’ down without a fight. You wanna sweep me off my feet? You better earn it." And true to his word, he tests you after that—deliberately throwing his weight at you, seeing if you can keep up. And when you do? When you always catch him, every single time? He lets out a deep, satisfied chuckle, wraps a massive arm around your waist, and murmurs, "Damn. I really hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”

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koobiie · 2 years ago

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cyborgs!!!!!!!!!

bonus bb and chopper -

#teen titans #one piece #cyborg #cyborg franky #beast boy #tony tony chopper #i wanted to do more titans x straw hats but i wasnt sure who else to do....#i think obviously raven and robin would be book nerds together #but unsure who would correlate to starfire or robin?#me just now realizing that there are two robins lmao #koob art #digital art #procreate #illustration #1k #2k #5k

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emmakubert · 7 months ago

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We need justice for Terra!!! 💛💛💛

#comics #comic book art #comicart #dc comics #dc fan art #teen titans #terra teen titans #Terra #beast boy x raven #beast boy #raven dc #raven teen titans #raven #starfire #robin dick grayson #dc characters #dc robin #dc fanart

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invincibledc · 6 months ago

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“Have you seen my boyfriend?”

TTG!Robin x Superboy!reader

Robin pouted, looking at the side of his bed to not see you. You had came over in his room to sleep with him cause he felt “lonely”. He had a nightmare, so he whispered your name and you were beside him in an instant. But now since he woke up alone, he felt the clingy urge to find his boyfriend. Robin immediately got up, exiting his room and going to the living room. There he sees Raven watching her pony show, ��Raven?” He asked as he sits by her. “Have you seen Y/N?” Raven kept her attention on the screen. “No I haven’t seen your boyfriend.” Robin pouted but got up anyways.

Going to the kitchen he sees beast boy and cyborg acting like pigs and mixing up bad food combos. “Guys, have you seen superboy?” The duo could only muffle the words no with the junk food spitting out their mouths. Robin sighs sadly and leaves the kitchen. Starfire seemed to float past the sad boy before Robin immediately grabbed her.

Eagerly, he grabs tightly to the Tamaranean’s shoulders. “Have you seen my boyfriend?!!” He exclaims, eyes widening. He was starting to tweak out without the presence of his boyfriend here. “Ah!” Starfire smiled pointing to the city. “Y/N is getting you the romantic things! He said he felt bad for you last night.” Starfire giggled as Robin lets go of her. Robin’s eyes widened with a flustered look and point his grappling hook towards the window view of the city. “Thanks Star! Bye!” Immediately he grapple hooks away through a now broke window.

Now cut to you, you held flowers and chocolate for your boyfriend who you think is still at the tower. As you go to float to fly high more, you immediately get hit on your back by a body. “Y/N!!!!” You know that yell anywhere when you fell arms wrapped around your chest. “Damnit star..” you mutter under your breath, turning around to see robin have his head nuzzled into your neck. “Robin.” You say softly, you look shock to see a snot face boy with tears running down his cheeks.

You immediately fly off to a secret place where no one can see the crying sidekick. You land on a rooftop, placing the things down and having Robin in front of you. He’s crying with his hands to his face, your hands on his hips. “What’s wrong baby, tell me?” You peel off the hands of the boy, kissing his head softly. He sniffles, “I…I never had someone care for me like you!” He cries again. You smile softly and wipe his tears away, you even got a napkin you had kept for these emergencies.

“Of course I care for you, you’re my boyfriend!” Robin cried even harder which made you sweatdrop. “I love my boyfriend!” He yells out hugging you.

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dreamersworldduh · 3 months ago

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Hi! Do you have the requests open? If so I would like to ask maybe something about tim drake x male reader. Nothing very special, maybe the reader is a Kryptonian and also has a "hate/rivalry" relationship with him, That once the reader is seriously injured by kryptonite and Tim worries and takes care of him day and night while the reader recovers. I don't know, I think it would be interesting to see that, besides you write amazingly and it would be even cooler, there could even be a mini-series lol. Well I hope you manage to do it, if not, Well, I'll understand it anyway, I hope to continue reading your stories soon (I love Damian's story) 🥰🥰🥰

THORN IN HIS SIDE

• TIM DRAKE x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Tim Drake, the focused leader of the Teen Titans, managed the unique strengths and challenges of his team. Each member, like Cassie, Raven, Starfire, and Beast Boy, contributed in their own way. Tim thrived on structure, carefully crafting strategies while keeping the team in line. However, one member, you, constantly tested his patience and disrupted his plans. Unlike Tim, you relied on instinct and preferred spontaneous actions. Though you weren't incapable, your unpredictable methods frustrated him. Your confidence and charisma rallied the team, making Tim feel as if he was competing for their loyalty. Despite his annoyance, Tim recognized your invaluable contributions, often leading to fresh ideas and inspiring others. In his heart, he was grateful for your influence on the Titans.

WARNING! FLUFF! Violence.

WORDS! 6.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Thank you for your request and your support! Much love 🫶🏽 I hope you enjoy 😉✨

Y/N, a Kryptonian sharing the same alien heritage as Superman, never imagined the life he now lived. Rescued as a child from Krypton's destruction, his abilities rivaled the immense power of the Man of Steel, yet they remained raw and untamed. For years, he worked as Superman's protégé, absorbing the lessons of heroism under the unwavering gaze of Earth's greatest champion. While Y/N admired his mentor, he constantly battled with the daunting weight of expectation, struggling to carve out his own identity in the shadow of a living legend.

Amid this journey, Y/N's journey caught the eye of Wonder Girl, a rising star in the superhero world and a key figure in the Teen Titans. She saw something unique in him—a mix of vulnerability and raw strength that reminded her of what it meant to be young, powerful, and searching for purpose. To her, Y/N wasn't just another Kryptonian powerhouse; he was someone with untapped potential and a soul yearning for connection. Wonder Girl believed Y/N could bring something extraordinary to the Titans, a team that embodied the perfect balance between family and fighting force.

One day, Wonder Girl approached Y/N with an invitation that would change the trajectory of his life. She spoke with conviction about the Titans—how they weren't just a team but a close-knit family that thrived on mutual support and understanding. She described the camaraderie, the thrill of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with peers who understood the burden of extraordinary abilities, and the chance for Y/N to grow beyond the long shadow of Superman. Though hesitant at first, Y/N was intrigued. After much thought, he accepted the offer, yearning for a fresh start and the opportunity to prove himself.

Joining the Titans felt like stepping into a new world. The team welcomed him warmly, their diverse personalities forming a vibrant and chaotic tapestry of young heroism. Beast Boy wasted no time cracking jokes to break the ice, while Starfire's infectious enthusiasm made Y/N feel immediately at home. Even Raven, with her enigmatic demeanor, offered a quiet nod of approval. Missions with the team were exhilarating, pushing Y/N to adapt quickly as he realized just how much his Kryptonian powers could contribute. Yet, not everything was seamless, especially when he met the Titans' leader, Tim Drake.

Tim, the third Robin and a tactical genius, was the polar opposite of Y/N. Where Y/N relied on instinct and raw power, Tim was meticulous, deliberate, and calculated. From the moment they met, their personalities clashed like oil and water. Strategy meetings became arenas for subtle confrontations; Y/N often suggested daring, high-risk plans fueled by his confidence in his abilities, while Tim meticulously picked apart every flaw in his proposals. Tim's cold, analytical tone grated on Y/N's nerves, and Y/N's impulsive nature frustrated Tim to no end.

Their friction extended to the battlefield. Y/N's instinct to leap headfirst into danger often disrupted Tim's carefully laid plans. While his intentions were always noble—saving teammates, defusing threats before they escalated—Tim saw his actions as reckless, a disregard for the chain of command. Meanwhile, Y/N bristled at what he perceived as Tim's unwillingness to trust his instincts or acknowledge his contributions. The tension simmered, turning every mission into a secondary battleground between them.

For the rest of the team, the dynamic was impossible to ignore. Beast Boy jokingly referred to them as "frenemies," though the underlying tension was no laughing matter. Starfire tried to mediate with her boundless optimism, while Raven remained characteristically silent, though her raised brow often betrayed her amusement at their constant bickering. Despite the volatility, neither Y/N nor Tim could deny the other's strengths. Y/N couldn't help but respect Tim's brilliance, even if he found his rigid demeanor insufferable. Likewise, Tim begrudgingly acknowledged—if only to himself—that Y/N's raw power and instincts had saved the team more times than he cared to admit.

Their relationship became a powder keg of competition and unspoken respect. Y/N pushed Tim to loosen his grip on control, while Tim forced Y/N to think before acting. Each encounter between them was a battle of wills, with the team holding their breath to see whether the two would eventually find common ground—or explode into an all-out clash. One thing was certain: their rivalry, however tense, was driving them both to new heights. Whether it would ultimately end in mutual respect or irrevocable division was a question only time would answer.

Tim leaned against the counter in the Titans Tower common area, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, his sharp gaze fixed on the scene outside. The sprawling lawn just beyond the glass windows was alive with activity, the sounds of laughter and playful banter filtering faintly through the thick panes. Y/N was at the center of it, locked in an impromptu game of tag with Superboy and Beast Boy. The grin on his face was wide and unapologetically mischievous as he blurred across the lawn with Kryptonian speed, effortlessly dodging Beast Boy, who had taken on the sleek, feathered form of a falcon.

Hovering nearby, Superboy—arms crossed and a smirk tugging at his lips—watched the spectacle with amusement. "Really, Y/N? That's the best you've got? You call that fast?" Conner teased, his tone full of mock arrogance.

Y/N laughed, his voice bright and unrestrained. "Faster than you, Conner. Want me to prove it?" He suddenly shot upward, hovering in the air just long enough to taunt his feathered pursuer. "Come on, bird-boy, step it up!"

Beast Boy swooped low in an attempt to tag Y/N, only for the Kryptonian to spin out of his reach at the last moment, landing gracefully on the grass below. The crunch of his boots barely registered before he was off again, the game picking up in intensity.

Inside, Tim's jaw tightened as he watched the carefree display. He brought his coffee mug to his lips, taking a deliberate sip as his eyes narrowed. To Tim, this wasn't just harmless fun; it was yet another example of Y/N's irresponsibility, his refusal to take anything seriously. The longer Tim watched, the more his irritation simmered until it became impossible to ignore. He turned away abruptly, setting his mug down on the counter with a little too much force.

Cassie Sandsmark, lounging lazily on the nearby couch with her legs draped over one armrest and her phone in hand, caught the telltale signs of Tim's brewing frustration. She didn't even bother looking up as she spoke. "Okay, Tim. Just say it. You're dying to rant."

Tim shot her a look before pacing a few steps across the room, his agitation evident. "You want to know what drives me crazy, Cassie? That." He jabbed a finger toward the window, where Y/N had just tackled Conner, both of them laughing as they rolled onto the grass.

Cassie arched an eyebrow, finally setting her phone down as her curiosity got the better of her. "What, exactly, is 'that'? Two Kryptonians having fun? Beast Boy living his best animal life? Or the fact that you can't relate to any of it?"

"It's not about the goofing off," Tim snapped, though the sharpness in his voice betrayed him. "It's about Y/N. He's impossible, Cassie. Ever since he joined this team, he's been nothing but a headache. He doesn't follow orders. He doesn't respect plans. He just... does whatever he wants! Like the rest of us are just here to clean up after him."

Cassie leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Come on, Tim. Y/N's not that bad. He's just... spirited. Like you were when you started. And—"

"Don't compare him to me," Tim interrupted, his voice tight with irritation. "When I started, I knew how to follow orders. I wasn't out there flying around, heat vision blazing, acting like I could solve everything on my own."

Cassie tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "No, Tim, you were just dressing up in green tights and trying to keep up with Batman. Totally different."

Tim ignored the jab, continuing his tirade as he gestured toward the window. "Look at Conner. He's Kryptonian too. But do you see him acting like that? No. Conner listens. He works with the team. He doesn't treat this like it's some kind of playground."

Cassie let out a short laugh as she stood, stretching her arms above her head. "Tim, Conner used to wear leather jackets and call himself Superman 2.0. And you think Y/N's cocky?"

Tim rolled his eyes but pressed on, undeterred. "At least Conner's grown up. He's reliable. Y/N? He's all ego. He thinks just because he's Kryptonian, he doesn't have to follow the rules."

Cassie crossed her arms and stepped closer, her tone growing serious. "Or maybe you just don't like him because he's not you, Tim. Y/N challenges you. And let's be honest—you don't like being challenged."

Tim opened his mouth to argue but faltered, his expression darkening as he turned his gaze back to the window. Outside, Y/N had picked up Beast Boy—now in the form of a small, squirming cat—and was holding him aloft while laughing. Conner stood nearby, shaking his head in mock disapproval but clearly enjoying himself.

"I don't know, Cassie," Tim admitted finally, his voice quieter. "He's just... exhausting. A pain."

Cassie's expression softened, and she reached out to clap him on the shoulder. "He's your pain, Tim. And whether you like it or not, he's part of this team now. You'll figure it out. You always do."

With that, she turned and left, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts. His eyes lingered on the scene outside, a mix of frustration and reluctant curiosity swirling in his mind. For all of Y/N's recklessness, there was something about him that Tim couldn't quite dismiss. Whether it was admiration or simply annoyance, Tim wasn't sure. But one thing was certain—this wasn't the last time Y/N would challenge everything Tim thought he knew about leadership.

The Teen Titans gathered in the dimly lit briefing room, the usual buzz of camaraderie replaced by a suffocating tension. Conner had been missing for three days after not returning from a mission. His disappearance felt like a gaping hole in the team's core, but for Tim, it was personal. Conner wasn't just a teammate—he was his best friend, his brother. The loss was a wound, raw and urgent, that spurred Tim into overdrive. He had spent every waking moment combing through leads, piecing together fragments of evidence. Now, he stood before the team, every detail meticulously prepared, determined not to fail.

The holographic display of a sprawling research facility flickered to life above the central console, casting a blue glow over the somber faces of the Titans. Seated around the table, Wonder Girl, Starfire, Beast Boy, Raven, and Y/N studied the image. Each wore expressions of determination laced with unease. Even Starfire's usual warmth seemed dimmed under the weight of the situation.

Tim stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid and his voice steady as he began. "This is where they're holding Conner. A black-site research facility just outside Metropolis. No name, no public record, but the tech they're using? It's advanced. Advanced enough to take down a Kryptonian." His jaw tightened. "We don't have time to figure out who's backing them or why. The only thing that matters is getting Conner back—alive."

He tapped a control panel, and the hologram zoomed in on the facility's layout, revealing a labyrinth of corridors, fortified walls, and clusters of patrol patterns. "I've analyzed their defenses. Armed guards, surveillance drones, motion detectors. They've planned for intrusions, which means they'll be ready for us. But they've also made mistakes." He pointed to a section of the hologram. "These are their weak points. Here's the plan."

The room grew quieter as Tim's voice took on its characteristic precision. "Cassie, Starfire, Beast Boy—you'll approach from the north. Cause a distraction. Loud and chaotic. Make them think it's a full assault." Cassie nodded firmly, her fingers gripping the hilt of her lasso. Starfire's green eyes glimmered with a determined light, and Beast Boy gave a quick thumbs-up, his usual humor replaced by grim resolve.

Tim continued. "Meanwhile, Raven, Y/N, and I will infiltrate from the south wing." He gestured to a series of ventilation shafts and maintenance access points. "This area is less guarded, but not by much. Once inside, we'll head straight for the central lab. That's where they're likely keeping Conner. We regroup there, neutralize any threats, and get him out. Quick, clean, no unnecessary risks."

The team nodded along, their trust in Tim's leadership evident. All except Y/N, who leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his brow furrowed. His instincts, honed by his Kryptonian heritage and countless battles, often clashed with Tim's rigid, calculated strategies. Now was no different. He stared at the hologram, skepticism etched across his face.

Tim noticed and locked eyes with him, his tone sharpening. "And Y/N," he said, his voice cutting through the room, "I need you to follow the plan. Exactly as I've laid it out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "You don't trust me? Is that it?"

Tim didn't waver, his gaze steady and unyielding. "I trust you to do your job, but your impulses are a liability. This mission isn't about showing off or proving anything. It's about Conner's life. If you deviate, if you act on instinct instead of sticking to the plan, you could put him—and all of us—in danger. Do you understand?"

The room fell silent, the tension between the two palpable. Raven glanced between them, her expression unreadable but her fingers twitching faintly, as if bracing for an argument. Cassie shifted in her seat but said nothing, her eyes fixed on Y/N. Even Beast Boy, usually quick with a quip, seemed to hold his breath.

Y/N's jaw tightened, his pride clearly bruised, but after a long pause, he gave a curt nod. "Fine. I'll follow the plan."

Tim didn't blink, didn't soften. He simply nodded back, turning his attention to the rest of the team. "Good. Then suit up. We leave in an hour."

As the Titans rose from their seats and filed out, Y/N lingered for a moment, his eyes still locked on the hologram of the facility. For all his bravado, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. Not about his abilities—he knew what he could do—but about whether following Tim's plan would be enough to save Conner.

Tim watched him from the corner of his eye but didn't say anything. He turned back to the display, his mind already running through every contingency, every possible failure point. Conner's life depended on this plan. On them. And Tim Drake wasn't about to let anything, or anyone, derail it.

The mission unfolded under the shroud of a moonless night, the Titans moving with practiced precision through the shadows. The air buzzed with tension, every member hyper-focused on their role. At the north entrance, Cassie, Starfire, and Beast Boy launched their diversion with dazzling chaos.

Starfire's energy blasts streaked through the dark like falling stars, each impact erupting in a burst of fiery brilliance that sent guards scrambling. Cassie wielded her golden lasso with an elegance that belied its devastating power, the crackling energy binding and electrocuting adversaries in one swift motion. Meanwhile, Beast Boy transformed into a hulking rhino, his massive form barreling through barricades and scattering enemies like toy soldiers. The cacophony of explosions, shouts, and roaring beasts filled the air, drawing the facility's defenders like moths to a flame.

Miles away, on the south wing, Tim Drake led Y/N and Raven with the precision of a seasoned tactician. Every step was calculated, every movement coordinated. They slipped past surveillance cameras and roving patrols, their presence a ghostly whisper in the heavily guarded corridors. Raven's dark portals shimmered with an otherworldly energy, allowing them to bypass locked doors and heavily reinforced checkpoints. Tim's grappling hook hissed as he secured it to overhead beams, pulling himself up with ease before disabling security systems with a flick of his wrist-mounted device.

Y/N followed close behind, his Kryptonian strength restrained but ready to explode into action at a moment's notice. His senses were on edge, his heightened hearing catching every echo, every distant thrum of machinery. He hated the slow, deliberate pace—every instinct screamed at him to act, to smash through the walls and find Conner. But Tim's voice echoed in his mind: Conner's life is on the line. Recklessness could cost him everything.

Tim paused at a junction, holding up a hand to stop the group. He crouched low, his eyes fixed on the glowing map projected from his wrist-mounted device. "We're close," he whispered. "The central lab is just up ahead. Stay quiet."

Raven nodded, her dark eyes scanning the corridor ahead. Y/N clenched his fists, his impatience mounting. He focused on his breathing, forcing himself to fall in line despite the growing urge to break away.

As they crept forward, a faint sound reached Y/N's ears. He froze mid-step, his head tilting slightly as his enhanced hearing kicked into overdrive. It was a voice—low, muffled, but unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat. He strained to hear more, the sound growing clearer with each passing second. It was Conner. He was sure of it.

Y/N's eyes widened, and he turned sharply toward Tim. "Tim," he whispered, his voice taut with urgency. "I hear him. Conner's down that way." He pointed toward a dimly lit side corridor branching off from their path.

Tim's head snapped toward the corridor, his jaw tightening. "We don't know that for sure," he replied, his tone low but firm. "It could be a trap."

"It's not a trap," Y/N shot back, his voice rising slightly. "I know his voice. It's him."

Tim's expression hardened. "And if it's a recording? A lure? We stick to the plan. The central lab is the target. That's where he's most likely being held."

Y/N's frustration flared, his fists clenching at his sides. "I'm not leaving him behind!" he hissed, his Kryptonian instincts screaming to take action.

"Y/N, stand down," Tim ordered, his voice sharp as steel. "That's an order. We can't afford to—"

But before Tim could finish, Y/N shot down the side corridor in a blur, his Kryptonian speed making it impossible for either Tim or Raven to stop him.

"Y/N!" Tim growled through clenched teeth, activating his comm unit. "Get back here! That's an order!" His voice crackled through the comms, but there was no response.

Raven turned her gaze to Tim, her expression unreadable but her tone calm. "Do we follow?"

Tim exhaled sharply, a storm of anger and worry flashing across his face. "No," he said after a moment, his voice tight. "We stick to the plan. If he's right, we'll find Conner. If he's wrong..." He trailed off, his mind already racing through contingencies.

Raven hesitated but nodded, her dark energy swirling faintly around her hands. "Then let's move. The longer we wait, the worse this gets."

Tim glanced down the now-empty corridor where Y/N had disappeared, his jaw tight with frustration. You better be right, Y/N, he thought grimly. With a sharp motion, he gestured for Raven to follow, leading the way toward the central lab.

Y/N followed the faint sound of Conner's voice through a maze of dimly lit corridors, his heart pounding with urgency. Each muffled syllable drew him closer until he arrived at a heavily secured steel door. Without hesitation, he planted his hands on the edges and pushed. The reinforced metal groaned in protest before screeching open under his Kryptonian strength, shards of broken locks clattering to the floor.

The room beyond was dimly lit, bathed in the eerie glow of fluorescent lights reflecting off sleek, metallic surfaces. At the center of the room lay Conner, strapped to a cold, sterile medical table surrounded by intricate machinery humming ominously. Energy bands glowing with a sickly green light pinned his arms and legs in place, the faint pulsation of their glow sapping him of strength.

Y/N's stomach twisted at the sight of his friend. Conner's usually vibrant complexion was ashen, his chest rising and falling weakly. For a moment, all Y/N felt was raw, unfiltered anger—a burning need to tear apart everything and everyone responsible.

"Conner!" he called, stepping further into the room.

The moment his boots hit the floor, his senses prickled. A chill crawled up his spine as an all-too-familiar voice echoed from the shadows.

"Well, well," the voice drawled, smooth and venomous. "If it isn't Superman's understudy."

Y/N's head snapped toward the corner of the room, and Lex Luthor emerged from the shadows, his sharp suit immaculate and his calculating smirk razor-sharp. In his hand, a small shard of Kryptonite glowed menacingly, its green hue casting ghostly shadows across his face.

"Did you really think you could storm in here unchallenged?" Lex said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You Kryptonians are so predictable. Always so... impulsive."

Y/N gritted his teeth, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The nausea from the Kryptonite's presence gnawed at his insides, but he forced himself to stay focused. His eyes flicked between Conner's prone form and Lex, weighing his options.

"Let him go," Y/N growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Lex's smirk deepened. "Oh, I don't think so. Conner here is... special. A masterpiece, really. A perfect blend of Kryptonian and human DNA. And you? You're just another reckless child playing dress-up."

Y/N didn't wait for Lex to finish. He surged forward, pushing through the Kryptonite's weakening effects as his singular focus honed in on Conner. Reaching the table, he grabbed the glowing restraints and ripped them apart with a burst of raw strength. Sparks flew, and the machinery around him sparked and whined in protest.

"Y/N..." Conner mumbled weakly, his eyelids fluttering open. His voice was hoarse, barely audible. "You shouldn't... be here."

"Save it," Y/N said, gently helping him off the table. "We're getting out of here."

But before they could move, a sharp click echoed through the room. Y/N turned just in time to see Lex pull out a sleek pistol, its barrel glowing faintly green. His eyes widened in realization, but the Kryptonite in his system dulled his reflexes.

Lex fired. The Kryptonite bullet struck Y/N in the side, the pain exploding through his body like liquid fire. He staggered, his knees hitting the floor as a strangled cry escaped his lips. His vision blurred, and every breath felt like shards of glass slicing through his lungs.

"Foolish," Lex sneered, stepping closer, his weapon trained on Y/N's chest. "You Kryptonians are all the same—fragile in the face of real power. And you've made this far too easy."

Y/N fought to stay upright, clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers. The room spun, but his focus remained on Conner, who was still too weak to fight.

Lex smirked, raising the gun. "Goodbye, boy."

Before he could pull the trigger, a golden blast of energy tore through the air, knocking the weapon from Lex's hand. He stumbled back in shock as the Titans burst into the room.

Starfire's glowing fists lit up the space like twin suns as she launched another energy blast, forcing Lex to retreat further. "Step away from them!" she commanded, her voice ringing with authority.

Wonder Girl charged in next, her lasso of lightning crackling with raw power. "You're done, Luthor!" she shouted, her eyes blazing with determination.

Behind them, Raven's dark magic filled the room, swirling around Y/N and Conner like a protective cocoon. Shadows danced across the walls as she focused her energy on shielding them from further harm.

Lex scowled, his perfect composure cracking. He glanced between the advancing Titans and the exit, weighing his options. "This isn't over," he hissed, retreating toward a hidden door at the far end of the room. With the press of a button on his wrist, a metallic door slid open, and he disappeared into the shadows.

"Coward," Cassie muttered, already turning her attention to Y/N.

The room fell silent except for the hum of dying machinery and Y/N's labored breaths. Tim was the first to reach him, dropping to his knees beside his teammate. Blood pooled around Y/N's side, the Kryptonite bullet still embedded in his flesh. His skin was pale, and his breathing shallow.

"Y/N," Tim said urgently, his voice steadier than the panic in his eyes. "Stay with me. We'll get you out of here."

"I'm fine," Y/N muttered weakly, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. "Get Conner out first."

"Stop talking," Tim snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. He pulled a small medkit from his utility belt, his hands moving with practiced precision. "You're not fine. That bullet is still in you."

Raven knelt beside him, her hands glowing with dark energy. "I can slow the effects," she said calmly, though her expression was tense. "But we need to get him back to the Tower. Fast."

Conner, still leaning heavily on Cassie for support, looked at Y/N with a mix of guilt and gratitude. "Y/N... I'm sorry. I never should've—"

"Don't," Y/N interrupted, forcing a faint smile despite the pain. "You'd do the same for me, Kon."

Tim's jaw tightened as he helped lift Y/N to his feet, his earlier frustration giving way to something softer. "We'll talk about your reckless decisions later," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "Right now, let's get you out of here."

With the team covering their retreat, the Titans made their way out of the facility, battered but victorious. Y/N, barely conscious, leaned on Tim as they moved. For all the annoyance and tension between them, Tim couldn't shake the thought that losing Y/N wasn't an option he was willing to consider. Not now. Not ever.

Tim stood just outside the medbay of Titans Tower, his shoulders stiff and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his utility belt. He leaned against the wall, his eyes locked on the scene inside. Y/N lay unconscious on the operating table, his normally vibrant complexion pale and lifeless. The faint hum of machinery filled the air, the glow of Kryptonite-removal equipment casting an unsettling green light over the room. Cyborg was hunched over Y/N, his mechanical fingers moving with the kind of precision only he could manage, carefully extracting every trace of the deadly Kryptonite bullet from the Kryptonian's body.

Tim's jaw tightened as he watched, his mind a storm of emotions he couldn't control. Worry. Frustration. Guilt. He was used to pressure, to life-or-death situations, but this felt different. Y/N wasn't just another teammate—he was family. And now, all Tim could do was stand there, helpless, as Cyborg worked to save him.

The sound of footsteps behind him pulled Tim from his spiraling thoughts. He turned to see Conner Kent approaching, still visibly drained from his own ordeal. The usually confident Superboy leaned against the doorway for support, his face etched with guilt and worry.

"How's he doing?" Conner asked, his voice quiet but heavy.

Tim exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Cyborg's got the bullet out, but the Kryptonite poisoned his system. It's going to take time for his body to recover. He's stable... for now." Though Tim's tone was measured, there was no mistaking the tightness in his voice.

Conner's gaze shifted to Y/N, lying motionless on the table. His fists clenched at his sides. "He saved me," he said after a moment, his voice thick with guilt. "If he hadn't come after me... if he hadn't—"

"He shouldn't have had to," Tim interrupted, sharper than he intended. Conner flinched at the words, but Tim didn't stop. "None of this should've happened."

Tim sighed, leaning back against the wall as his anger ebbed, replaced by exhaustion. He crossed his arms, staring down at the floor. "I told him to stick to the plan," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "I begged him to stick to the plan. But no—Y/N being Y/N, he had to go charging in like a hero."

Conner straightened slightly, his guilt replaced by a flicker of defiance. "He is a hero, Tim. He saved me."

Tim looked up, his eyes narrowing. "And he almost got himself killed doing it. Do you even realize how reckless that was? He ran off without backup, straight into a trap set by Lex Luthor! He got lucky this time, Conner. But what about next time? What happens if he doesn't make it out?"

Conner's jaw tightened, his voice low but firm. "You think I wanted him to get hurt for me? I didn't. But he did what he had to do. Just like you would've."

Tim opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. He stared at Conner, frustration and understanding warring in his expression. Finally, he leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his face.

"He drives me crazy," Tim admitted, his voice softer now. "He's reckless. Impulsive. Half the time it feels like he's actively trying to make me lose my mind. But he's also... brave. He cares about this team, about the people he's fighting for, more than anything else. And yeah, he saved your life tonight. I respect him for that."

Conner's expression softened, and for a moment, the two of them stood in silence, their gazes drawn to Y/N. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors filled the quiet, a small reassurance that their friend was still fighting.

Finally, Cyborg stepped out of the medbay, pulling off his surgical gloves. He looked exhausted but satisfied as he addressed them. "He's gonna be okay," Cyborg said, his voice steady. "I got all the Kryptonite out, and his system's stabilizing. He's not out of the woods yet, but with rest and some time, he'll make a full recovery."

Tim exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him. "Thanks, Vic," he said quietly, his voice carrying more emotion than he intended.

Cyborg nodded, offering them a reassuring smile before heading down the hall. Conner leaned heavily against the doorframe, his shoulders sagging with relief. Tim, meanwhile, stayed rooted in place, his eyes never leaving Y/N.

"You should tell him that," Conner said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Tim glanced at him, frowning. "Tell him what?"

Conner smirked faintly. "All that stuff about respecting him. You know, before you start chewing him out for breaking the plan again."

Tim rolled his eyes, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'll think about it."

They stood there for a moment longer, watching as Y/N's chest rose and fell with steady breaths. The tension that had gripped the Tower for hours was finally beginning to ease, replaced by the quiet strength of their bond. For all their arguments, all the mistakes and risks, they were a team. And in that moment, Tim knew one thing for certain: he'd fight just as hard for Y/N as Y/N had for Conner.

They would get through this. Together.

The past few days had blurred into a haze of recovery for Y/N. After surviving the mission, the Kryptonite wound, and the chaos of Lex Luthor's escape, he was confined to the medbay at Titans Tower. His Kryptonian physiology had worked overtime to heal him, but the lingering effects of Kryptonite poisoning slowed his usual rapid recovery. Every movement sent a dull ache radiating from his side, and exhaustion hung over him like a heavy cloud. He hated feeling vulnerable, trapped in bed while the team moved forward without him.

What Y/N hadn't expected, though, was Tim's constant presence.

Tim wasn't known for his warmth. He was the strategist, the tactician—the one who held the team together with sharp focus and relentless discipline. But since Y/N had stabilized, Tim had been a near-constant fixture in the medbay. Y/N would drift in and out of restless sleep, only to find Tim sitting nearby, flipping through mission reports or scrolling through data on his tablet. At first, Y/N thought it was a coincidence, but by the third day, it was clear: Tim wasn't just checking in; he was hovering.

The morning light filtered dimly through the reinforced windows as Y/N stirred awake, groggy but alert. The soft whoosh of the medbay door opening caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Tim walking in, balancing a tray in one hand and a folder in the other.

"Is that...?" Y/N rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Chicken noodle soup," Tim replied without missing a beat. He set the tray on the bedside table with a practiced ease, as if he'd done this a hundred times before. "Figured you'd be tired of Raven's herbal remedies by now."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he propped himself up on his elbows, wincing slightly at the motion. "Didn't peg you for the soup-delivery type, Drake."

Tim raised an eyebrow, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "I didn't make it. I'm not a miracle worker," he said, his tone dry. "Picked it up from that diner downtown. Best chicken noodle soup in the city."

Y/N chuckled softly, though the movement made his side throb. "Wow. I didn't know you had a nurturing side. What's next? Tucking me in?"

Tim rolled his eyes but didn't respond to the jab. Instead, he unfolded a napkin and placed it neatly next to the bowl, his movements precise and deliberate. "Eat," he instructed, gesturing toward the tray. "You need to keep your strength up."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, more curious than amused now. "Okay, seriously, what's going on with you? You've been checking on me like clockwork. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, but... it's a little out of character."

Tim hesitated for a moment, his usual composed demeanor faltering just enough for Y/N to notice. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he met Y/N's gaze. "You almost died," he said bluntly. His voice was even, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. "And before you give me the 'Kryptonians bounce back' speech, don't. Kryptonite changes everything. We didn't know if you were going to make it, and I—" He stopped himself, glancing away briefly before continuing. "I don't want to go through that again."

Y/N's smirk faded, replaced by a look of quiet surprise. He wasn't used to seeing Tim like this—unguarded. Vulnerable. "Tim, I'm fine," he said, though the words came out softer than he intended. "You don't have to—"

"I'm going to, whether you like it or not," Tim interrupted, his voice firm. "You're not fine yet. And until you are, I'm going to make sure you have what you need. Even if that means... soup."

Y/N studied him for a long moment, the teasing gone from his expression. There was something unspoken in Tim's words, a guilt he hadn't voiced. "You're blaming yourself," Y/N said quietly.

Tim's jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring at the wall as if it held the answers he couldn't give. "If I'd handled the mission better—if I'd planned for Luthor, accounted for the Kryptonite—none of this would've happened."

"That's not on you," Y/N said, his voice firm despite the ache in his side. "I made the choice to go after Conner. Nothing you could've done would've stopped me."

Tim shook his head, frustration flashing across his face. "You shouldn't have had to make that choice. It's my job to keep this team safe, to make sure everyone gets out in one piece. And you—"

"I'm still here," Y/N interrupted, his tone steady. "You did your job, Tim. You got us out. You saved me."

Tim sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension eased. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to make sure you're okay now."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound carrying more warmth than amusement. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

Tim smirked faintly, leaning back in his chair. "Takes one to know one."

The room fell into a comfortable silence. Y/N finally picked up the spoon and took a tentative sip of the soup. It was warm and surprisingly good, a welcome change from the bland nutrient packs he'd been stuck with. He glanced at Tim out of the corner of his eye, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

"You know," Y/N said, his tone light but teasing, "if you keep this up, I might start thinking you actually like me."

Tim scoffed, his smirk widening slightly. "Don't push your luck."

For the rest of the afternoon, Tim stayed by Y/N's side, quietly flipping through mission reports while Y/N finished his soup. It wasn't a grand gesture, and Tim would never make a big deal out of it. But to Y/N, it meant more than words could say. For all of Tim's stoic exterior, his actions spoke volumes. And in that moment, Y/N realized something he hadn't before: Tim Drake cared. In his own stubborn, meticulous way, he cared. And that made all the difference.

#dc x male reader #x male reader #dc #batboys #tim drake #tim drake x male reader #teen titans #conner kent #cassie sandsmark #beast boy #starfire

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celticcatgirl2 · 5 months ago

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“…No no seriously why do the goth baddies always date the most mid dudes?”

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alexandriaellisart · 1 year ago

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meow

#teen titans 2003 #teen titans #raven #starfire #teen titans comics #cyborg #robin #beast boy #meow meow #the story of where the cat came from!#secret origin of the cat lol #red x #but only for two frames

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midnightstar-90 · 9 months ago

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Dog Confessions

Garfield Logan x Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad Main Masterlist | DC Comics Masterlist

Summary: The Titans return home from a mission to find Gar and Y/N asleep on the couch. And Gar is a dog?

Warnings: Fluff, Gar as a literal dog 🥰💖 A/N: Long time no see. Yeah, I know! But here I am giving you this in return. Words: 1.4K

The Titans arrived home from their mission, only to be welcomed to silence. Kory, Rachel, Connor, and Dick each sent each other a look before Dick called out to the two members they'd left behind. When there wasn't an answer, the four instantly began to panic. That was until something green and lumpy poked out of a cover on the couch.

Dick motioned for Kory, Connor, and Rachel to stay back so that he could investigate, and the three hesitantly stayed where they were. As Dick approached the living room area, more features became more noticeable. The lump on the couch seemed way too big to be just Gar or Y/N. But when he saw a sliver of a hairy tail against a human leg, Dick instantly knew what was going on.

Dick moved closer to the other side of the couch and took a look at the other end of the cover. A small smile appeared on Dick's face as he gazed upon a sleeping Y/N who was cuddled up with a green labrador, which Dick assumed to be Gar, also sleeping.

"Dick, what is it?" Kory asked, speaking for herself, along with Connor and Rachel. She and the two teenagers behind her were genuinely confused about the situation and were unsure of how to handle the situation.

Dick didn't say a word. Instead, he shushed the magenta-haired woman and pointed down at the couch before walking over to the group.

"Y/N and Gar are asleep and I don't want to wake them," Dick said.

Everyone's mouths dropped in shock as they all took a quick glance over to the lumpy figure on the couch. Kory turned to Dick, "They're sleep? On the couch?" Dick only nodded at the woman's question. His smile grew larger by the minute.

After taking another look at the couch, Rachel decided to jump in. "Wow?" she started, walking toward the couch for a better view. "I mean- I had my thoughts, but I didn't actually think that they'd get together."

"I didn't know he could turn into a dog," Connor said, scratching his head.

Dick and Kory sent each other a knowing smile. Rachel was right. They all thought the two were dating. There were clear signs. Between the frequent nights out, how they always share the first bite of their food with the other, and this, the group could only confirm their suspicions. Unless they deny it.

If they denied the dating rumors, then maybe they were wrong. But everyone could see the chemistry between the two.

“Alright,” Dick started as he began to usher everyone out of the room. “Let’s let them sleep.”

Kory and Connor did as they were told but Rachel decided to stay back. “One sec,” she called out, pulling out her phone. She opened the camera app and said, “I just want to document this for future purposes.”

She snapped the picture, forgetting to turn the sound off, making Gar’s ears poke up. One of his eyes slowly opened to reveal his dark brown eyes staring directly at Rachel, who was staring back with a mischievous grin.

Gar panicked and quickly morphed back into his human self. Luckily, he was under the cover, or else everyone would have seen the one downside to his powers, again.

“What’s going on?” Gar asked nervously, taking his gaze away from Rachel to look at everyone, and then back at Rachel.

“When were you gonna tell me you and Y/N were dating?” Rachel asked with a fake pout.

Gar opened his mouth to speak, but when he looked over at Dick, Kory, and Connor who were all invested with what was going on he quickly closed it.

“Don’t lie to me, Gar. You and Y/N have been all lovey dovey for a while now. Even more than Dick and Kory.”

“Hey!” Dick and Kory yelled out at the same time.

“Y/N and I aren’t together. We’re just very close. She was asleep on the couch last night, and I saw she was having a nightmare. Without thinking I somehow morphed into a dog and cuddled up next to her, hoping it would help, and it did. So, I decided to stay.”

“Does she know that you’re currently lying against her with your naked butt, because in some cases, that would be assault?” Rachel asked with an amused grin on her face.

Gar was now beet face red with embarrassment. “W-well, I clearly didn’t have the intention of morphing into a human while laying next to her. I just wanted to help her,” Gar stuttered. He stood up, taking the cover with him, to cover himself and unknowingly woke up the girl he was previously laying with.

Rachel gasped, “You like Y/N!”

It’s safe to say that Gar did not like the confrontation. His face was getting redder by the minute and his heart was beating at immense speed. He was scared to admit his feelings whether Y/N knew or not.

Gar hesitated for a moment, looking away from Rachel before looking back at her. “Okay! Yes, I like Y/N!” He blurted out, causing everyone to jump a bit before sending the boy a loving smile.

Unknowingly to everyone, Y/N was also smiling. Her eyes remained shut, but a small smile made its way onto her lips. The girl remained silent, waiting to hear more before revealing herself.

“Why don’t you tell her that,” Kory said, jumping into the conversation.

Gar looked down at his feet and shrugged. “I don’t know. Y/N is amazing. She’s an awesome fighter, she’s a talented singer, and she has the best taste in everything. I guess I just didn’t want to lose what I have with her. I honestly don’t deserve her, and if I told her how I feel, I wouldn’t be surprised if she rejected me.”

Rachel smiled and placed a hand on Gar’s naked shoulder, “Gar, you’re an amazing guy also, and I can tell you that Y/N sees that too.”

Gar’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?” He asked, earning a nod from Rachel. He turned to the other three and they sent him a nod also.

“Just think about it. I’m sure she won’t say no,” Rachel said, sending one last glance to Y/N before walking away with a huge smile.

Gar watched as the four of them left the room. Behind him, Y/N had finally opened her eyes and was now sitting up on the couch to face him.

“They’re right, you know?” Y/N spoke softly, making Gar jump and turn to face the girl. Her face illuminated with joy as she smiled up at him. “You are an amazing guy.”

Gar’s face scrunched up in confusion. “You heard all that?” Gar asked, pointing at the empty hallway where Rachel, Kory, Dick, and Connor all exited the room from.

Y/N nodded, “And I saw that cute little butt of yours.” She giggled as Gar tightened the cover around his body.

“I appreciate what you tried to do for me.”

The green haired boy scratched the back of his neck. “It was nothing,” he said. “I’d help any of you guys out.”

“But you morphed into a dog for me,” Y/N argued, her face beaming with pleasure.

“I don’t know how I did that,” Gar admitted with a scoff.

“Exactly.” Y/N stood from her spot on the couch. “I guess I also have some feelings I’d like to admit,” Y/N said, sheepishly.

“Oh. And what might that be?” Gar asked, nervously looking away from the girl.

Y/N stepped closer and boldly wrapped her arms around the boy’s neck. Gar turned back to face the girl, surprised by her actions. “I may or may not have been withholding my romantic feelings for you also,” she admitted.

Gar was taken aback by the girl’s confession, but it didn’t stop the large grin from appearing on his face. He went to hug her but was stopped by the cover that was covering his body from the girl’s eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Ahem! I was going to hug you, but I don’t think it would be appropriate seeing as it’s the only thing holding up the things covering up… you know what.”

Y/N looked away, a little shocked by Gar’s response before she began to laugh. She gave his chest a gentle pat and said, “Okay, how about you go get dressed and after, we can go see a movie?”

Gar nodded as Y/N released him from her hold so that he could go change. She watched as he began to leave the room, occasionally stumbling over the large cover, making the girl chuckle.

If your User is in red, I could not find you. Please feel free to contact me if you’d like to be re-added. Taglist: @geli-likes-stuff, @tractsnook, @esposadomd, @avada-kedavra-bitch-187,

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