l3mon8te

[l3mon8te]

|Birdy| Dick Grayson x F!Reader

Chapter 7 of my Wattpad book, "Other Side of the Mirror". Username in bio.

So this was just great.

I had just insulted the Boy Wonder—yes, Robin. The Robin. Batman’s sidekick. Member of the Young Justice League.

Basically, the teen superhero equivalent of royalty. And me? I’d just gone and called him… well, doesn’t matter. The point is, he left soon after, probably deciding he had better things to do than stand around with the girl whose face looked like a police report and whose mouth wouldn’t stop digging holes.

My stomach twisted. I felt like a bully. Like Brianna. Gross.

Cue my grand walk of shame back home. Picture it: black eye, bloody nose, bruise on my cheek, sweat soaking through my shirt like I’d just sprinted a marathon. People stared, of course, but I ignored them. This was Gotham. Here, people getting jumped was about as ordinary as pigeons and crime sirens.

At least the walk was short—three minutes, tops. I guess all that sprinting from Brianna and her goons finally paid off. Bright side? Free cardio. Downsides? The whole rest of it.

When I finally reached my front door, I eased it open like it was made of glass. Soft. Quiet. No need to attract attention—from the butlers, the maids, and especially not from my dad. Doubt he was home, but on the off chance? I wasn’t risking it.

The foyer felt like a cathedral—marble floors too shiny, chandelier light too harsh. My flats squeaked against the tile, and I winced at the sound. Subtle as a siren.

“Miss.”

I froze halfway to the stairs. Of course. The butler. Alfred-wannabe, though with a sharper jaw and a colder glare. (hehe)

He stepped out of the shadows—because of course he did—and gave me the kind of once-over that said he noticed everything. The bruises. The blood. The sweat.

“Rough evening?” His tone was dry, like he already knew the answer.

I swallowed hard. “You could say that.”

One eyebrow arched. “Shall I inform your father?”

Panic spiked, but I shook my head so fast it probably looked like I was trying to detach it. “No. Please don’t. He doesn’t need to know.”

The butler’s gaze lingered a second too long, heavy, like he was weighing whether to press the issue. Finally, he sighed, the sound sharp and tired. “Very well. But you should have the maid fetch ice for that eye before it swells shut.”

I nodded quickly, mumbling a thank-you, and bolted up the stairs two at a time. My bedroom door shut behind me with a soft click, and only then did I let myself breathe again.

I was safe—for now. I thought as I started my climb up the stairs.

I soon made it up to my room—if you could even call it that.

Four walls, a bed, a desk. Everything so pristine it felt less like a bedroom and more like a hotel suite no one ever stayed in. I wasn’t allowed to decorate, and even if I was, I wouldn’t know where to start.

Pictures of friends and family? Please. Didn’t have either. Posters of a band I loved? A splash of my favorite color? That would require knowing what my favorite color even was. I didn’t. Never thought about it. Never had the chance.

I was my father’s tool, nothing more. A perfectly blank slate for him to sharpen and use however he pleased. And tools don’t need favorite colors. Or hobbies. Or lives of their own.

He made that clear the moment my mother died. Since then, it’s been drills, rules, silence. Plans whispered behind closed doors that never included me, except as a piece to be moved across whatever board he was playing on.

I didn’t know what my father’s endgame was. But I knew my part in it: obedience.

And sitting in this empty room, staring at walls that reflected nothing of me, I wondered if there even was a me left to decorate for.

[l3mon8te]

|Birdy|Dick Grayson x F!Reader

This is a chapter from my Wattpad. lmk if you like it. Wattpad username in bio.

I picked my things up slowly, and thankfully, my nose had finally stopped spilling blood.

I reached for a book just as someone else’s hand moved toward it, too. Instinctively, I pulled back and looked up.

“She’s such a bitch, am I right?”

The voice hit before the face—dorky laugh and all. But when I looked up, I froze.

He had the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. His eyes were an icy, cold blue, but not the kind of frigid that made his face feel cold.

On the contrary, they felt inviting, like the kind of cold that wakes you up gently, not harshly.

Eyes that made you want to look a little longer than you should. 

His features were sharp, almost too defined for someone our age. And his nose was crooked, not from a break, but in that way some people are just born looking like they've lived a little.

His hair was dark, strikingly so. Not quite jet black, not quite raven… somewhere in between. Like the shadows of a city just before night truly sets in.

An overall good-looking guy. Too good-looking.

My voice caught in my throat before I could say anything.

“Yeah.”

It came out shorter—and smaller—than I’d meant it to. I figured he was probably just curious about the fight. Or—well, let’s be honest—the beating.

He handed me the book, but I didn’t make a move to take it. I just… stared at him— Honestly, probably more dazed than I meant to.

He shrugged, then bent down and grabbed my bag, slipping the book inside—along with the rest of the ones I hadn’t picked up yet.

“Jeez,” he said with a lopsided smile as he stood up. I quickly mirrored him, rising to my feet.

“This is heavy. Let me carry it for you.”

Smooth. I’ll admit it.

I quirked an eyebrow at him, testing. But he just smiled—cool, effortless, like he already knew I wouldn’t say no.

“Come on, we better get to class—we just missed the late bell,” he said casually.

Wait—what? I didn’t even hear it.

A cold weight dropped in my stomach. If the school calls home... I’m going to be in so much trouble.

I glanced around nervously, my mind already spiraling. But after a moment, I did what I’ve always done— what I had to do.

I shoved the fear down. Deep. Locked it away with all the other things I didn’t have the luxury to deal with.

“Right,” I started, catching his gaze.

“Sorry, what was your name again?” I asked, watching him give me a look like a sad puppy.

“Are you serious?!” He half-laughed, half-yelled. I sweat-dropped. “We literally have every class together.”

I swallowed nervously, the spit gathering in my mouth.

“S-sorry, I totally forgot. Maybe it’s the whole ‘getting punched in the face’ thing,” I laughed, hoping he’d get it.

He did—barely.

Rolling his eyes, he said, “Dick. Dick Grayson.” He smiled and held out his hand for what I assumed was a handshake.

“Alright, Mr. Grayson,” I began, and he frowned at my use of his name. “We are so very late right now.” I motioned toward the clock in the courtyard.

I glanced at him once more before bursting into a full-on sprint.

“That’s so unfair!” he shouted from behind me, quickly catching up and then overtaking me.

I gasped at how fast he was. I was fast—faster than almost everyone—but he was insanely speedy.

A/n: I'm tired of chat, two in one day has got me panting. Gooners, I shall be logging off for a day and posting 1-2 every other day or so. Here's some dih for you, hope you enjoy :)