Flash X Reader - Blog Posts

Chapters: 3/61 Fandom: Justice League - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Clark Kent/Reader, Bruce Wayne/Reader, Barry Allen/Reader, Superman/Original Female Character, Batman/Original Female Character, The Flash/Original Female Character Characters: Superman | Clark Kent, Batman | Bruce Wayne, The Flash | Barry Allen, Justice League - Character, extended character ensembles that are appropriate to each charcater, basically related characters Additional Tags: Romance, Secret Identity, Identity Porn, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sex, internal thought processes Summary:

This story will be a sort of preferences, much like my Hetalia fic if you’ve read it, but also technically be both “x Reader” and “x OC.” You see, I really struggle to write with (Y/n) (L/n), or 2nd person POV’s. So I have made three blank slates of OC’s, and wrote romance with them. They technically have backstory and description where it serves the stories. If this interests you, please read. I’ll explain more in the first chapter which characterization and continuity I’m following. Enjoy!

---

— Superman Ticket —

_ Alexandra Ogden POV _

You know, I understand why a lot of businesses both do and don’t have ‘friends & family’ discounts. Those things are great for advertising, but can be easily abused. Luckily for me, as my own boss, I can give out discounts wherever I like with little consequence. Plus, my friends tend to feed me while I clean so I call that a net-bonus. A preemptive tip, if you will. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but hey, it works. 

Lois easily moves around the kitchen while I finish cleaning the living room. Last room of her apartment left to clean, it was where she was sitting out of the way while I cleaned the rest of her place, and the last client of the day. I do find cleaning to be enjoyable, because the instant gratification after completing the task is addicting, honestly, but it is tiring. Some places just take some elbow grease, what can I say? 

“Nearly done?” Lois asks. “Almost! Just gotta move your couches back in place, and then I’m done for the day.” I call back, and get to moving said furniture over the newly swept floor. “Good! We haven’t had the chance to hang out in a while.” Lois comments, and I hear her popping open a wine bottle and moving around her cabinets, so I think I have an idea of what she has in store for me. 

She’s not wrong though, we both have been busy. Lois just got a promotion at work, and as a reporter she’s been very busy. She worked incredibly hard to get where she is, and that’s not going to falter because she’s reached one of her goals. No, she’s going to keep going, I know that. I’ve been busy too. My cleaning business is hard as a one-woman show, but I have regular clients who have also recommended my services to their friends and family. So I’ve been swamped. It’s nice to have a routine of which houses I go to in a given week, but the parties I clean up after on the week-ends and now week-days have taken up so much of my time. But the pay has been good, and has been padding me for times when it’ll be slower. 

Once I’m done with the living room I gather my cleaning supplies and place them by the door. I’ll carry them down to my car later. Just on time too, as Lois emerges from her kitchen with two wine glasses filled with a generous amount of a cheap red, if I know her well, and a knowing smile. Lois always knows what's going on. I’d say it's her reporter instincts, but I’ve known her since high-school and she was like this long before she joined the newspaper club. 

I take the offered glass and sit down next to her newly shiny couch. We both drink before talking, because all conversations are better a little buzzed I think. “So, how’d it go?” She asks me, a sly smirk on her face, and I sigh. I know exactly what she’s talking about. I had a date yesterday, one Lois prompted me to go on, and she wants the tea. Too bad it’s going to be very cold. “Not great, how well did you know this guy again?” I prompt, thinking back to how the date went. 

Lois raises her brows in question, and slowly says – “Not especially well, why? What happened?” I lean back and take a sip before I answer. “Like I said, not great, he was very… how do I put this, self-assured? Entitled? He seemed to think my work was either a hobby or not a real job.” I try to explain how he came off, but it’s hard to put it into words. He was just off… and obviously so, but not in a way you could put your finger on immediately. 

“The job that you get paid for?” I nod at Lois’s comment, and she looks stumped. “I’m sorry girl, I thought he would have been better.” I shake my head. “Not your fault, Lois, you didn’t know him well. I just think I’m gonna be done with dates for a while.” I say, and Lois hums in thought. “What if… how about you trust me one more time?” She says, looking excited. 

I look at her, slightly concerned. “Lois, you didn’t do well with the last guy you recommended, why would this one be different?” Lois smiles at me in what I’m sure she thinks is comforting, but it’s one of her determined smiles that makes me think I’m about to be roped into something chaotic again. “Because I’m not the one recommending him!” She explains. “What?” I ask, confused beyond measure now. 

“You remember that photographer at the Daily Planet that I work with?” She pushes on, and I hesitantly reply – “Yes? The sunshine one?” “Yes! He’s worked with this other reporter on my new floor, and he says this guy is a sweetheart, couldn’t hurt a fly. You’d trust sunshine, wouldn’t you?” Lois excitedly asks. I frown a little though. “I don’t know, seems like a risk, really.” Lois pushes on my shoulder a little. 

“Come on, Alex, live a little. You handled the last guy, if this guys the same then no problem, same story, same old song. But what if he’s not?” Lois pressures, and she makes some good points. I have handled bad dates before, what’s one more? I sigh and nod. “Alright, one more blind date.” Lois fist bumps the air in excitement, and I have to crack a smile at that. 

— Break Line —

_ Alexandra Ogden POV _ 

I like cafe dates, it means I can dress casually. The last guy I went on a date with chose a fancy restaurant, obsessively texted me to check I was dressing right, and most certainly did not return the favour. I was not enthused to say the least. So this is much better. Now just to find the man. You’d think Lois would give his number beforehand, but it seems like she wanted to avoid the aforementioned fiasco. Nevermind that, I’ve got to find this guy going off a name and a description. 

Clark Kent, or as Lois keeps calling him, Smallville is a man with black hair, usually a little messy, black, square glasses and a slouch despite his buff physique. Jimmy Olsen described him to me in some better detail. I can expect him to look nervous, as he comes from a small town and never got used to the city crowds. He’ll probably overdress, but not out of a sense of superiority, but in a nervous way where he feels the need to impress. Yes, he slouches, but it doesn’t come off as lazy, more insecure. His hair will be messy, but not so messy as to be unkempt. It’s curley more than anything. And blue eyes, Jimmy mentions those would be striking. 

And there is just such a man fitting that description in the back of the cafe, at a small table, nervously looking outside the cafe wall to ceiling windows. Hopefully he’s looking for me. He does have the curly black hair, the big glasses, and the slouch. He curls up in his seat like he’s scared of inconveniencing someone by taking up too much space. He’s wearing a nice sweater, some khaki slacks, and office shoes. And he is very buff. Jimmy said he was from a small town right? Bet he’s a farm boy, a natural buffness gained from lifting hay or something like that. 

I approach him with an easy smile, and stand by his table. “Hey, Clark Kent, right?” I ask, and his eyes jerk to me quickly. Wow, those are blue. Cute too. “Oh- Uh, yes. I’m Clark Kent – you just said that. Um - Alexandra Ogden?” He nervously stutters, going to adjust his glasses on his face despite them not being out of place. I give him a comforting smile. I by no means think I look bad, in fact I think I look very good, but I didn’t know I looked so good as to make him this nervous. At least, I hope it’s good looks that’s making him nervous. Hate for it to be anything else, except maybe natural disposition. Then it’s just neutral. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. I hope you weren’t waiting long?” I ask, and Clark shakes his head negatively. “No, no, I just got here. Don’t worry. Do you want to get something?” That’s good, means I didn’t make a bad impression by being tardy. And he waited for me before going to get something to eat! Ain’t that sweet. I nod. “Yeah, join me?” I ask. “Yes!” Clark exclaims, perhaps a little louder than he meant, and scrambles out of his seat. Oh, this is adorable. This man towers over me, even with a slouch, and he’s acting like the most nervous-excited puppy I have ever seen. 

He follows me eagerly into line, standing a little behind me instead of just beside me. I frown a little at that, but I do understand. This cafe is small, there isn’t a lot of room. Speaking of little room, the line is already long, and more people start to pour in through the front door. That welcome bell has not stopped jingling. “Wow, it got crowded fast.” I comment, and Clark moves a little closer to me to save space. 

“Very fast. I’m starting to think the whole date will be spent in this line.” He answers, and he’s not wrong. As I mentioned, the line is already long, and moving very slowly. We might be here a while. “In that case, how was your day?” I ask. Let’s not let the time go to waste, right? “Busy, yours?” Clark asks, and that’s a short answer, isn’t it? I chance a glance back and see he’s looking at the crowd around us nervously. Olsen did say he wasn’t used to city crowds, or maybe given how long he’s been here, he just doesn’t like them. “Likewise. Any interesting stories?” I prompt, trying to get his mind off the crowd. 

“A couple, one intrigue into how the Crime Families of Metropolis are exploiting the restaurant scene, but Lois Lane snatched that one up, and another that I got on LexCorp. General PR things, really.” Clark seems to clock in that the date is going now, and engages readily. His job sounds interesting, and he seems knowledgeable about it. “Were you looking forward to the crime story?” I respond. “What reporter isn’t? But I have to admit, I think Lois will do a better job than I would have.” I see Clark shrug out of the corner of my eye, and I smile. Humble, not bad. 

“I’d say don’t sell yourself short, but I do have to stick to my best friend.” I shrug as well. What can I say, I have loyalty. Clark chuckles a little, which makes me smile more. Good to know he didn’t take offence. “I don’t blame you. You know, Lois didn’t mention what you did for work?” Clark asks the next question, and I toy with my bottom lip for a moment before I answer. This is where the last date went down hill. “I’m a cleaner.” I hesitantly say. 

But Clark doesn’t immediately change the topic or dismiss me, he asks a follow-up instead. “For like someone specific? Or freelance?” His tone is curious and genuine. “Freelance.” I answer. “Any difficult jobs lately?” Clark questions further, and I feel some flutters in my stomach from how well this is going. He’s not a snob about my job at least! One point for the small town boy. “They’re all a little hard, but I did have a party to clean up after this past weekend. Tell you what, if you ever plan a party in your beige-themed house – stick to white wine, not red.” I expound. That was a hard job, and my client was absolutely a snob. 

“Sheesh. I hope you got tipped nicely for that one.” Clark empathizes with me, and I nod as well. “Would it surprise you if I said I didn’t?” I chuckle a little. It’s been long enough and is more funny now than it was annoying and rude then. She was an ass. “Sadly, no. I don’t think your career is one that’s often appreciated these days, is it?” Clark sighs in sympathy. I snort a little though, in a humorous way. “These days? Please, point to the decade where they were.” I prod. 

“Good point. But forgive me for the assumption – you look like you're doing well for yourself?” Clark points out, and I have to say, he’s not exactly wrong. I’ve got several regular clients, and enough supplies that it’s not digging into my budget all the time like it did in the early days. I even have my own apartment, which while small is debt free. “That sounds like a compliment to me. But indulge me, what gave it away?” I query, and Clark astutely assumes that – “You don’t sound mad that your occupation is underappreciated, just annoyed.”

I used to get so angry, back when I was starting my business. It was hard at the start, and it still is now, although in different ways. I used to get mad at everything, from my clients, my career, myself, and the world in general. But I’ve done well for myself, and I suppose that gives me some privilege, doesn’t it? I’m in a place where I don’t have to be angry at the world, that’s something. “I think I am mad, on principle, but you’re not wrong I’m more annoyed about not getting tipped than pissed. Lucky me, really.” I eventually say after a moment. 

“Something tells me luck has nothing to do with it.” Clark states, and isn’t that curious. What does he mean? “Hm?” I question back with a hum. Clark explains himself. “You’re friends with Lois Lane, and something tells me she was hard to keep up with in High School. You’d need to be proactive for that, so I think you’re probably a very hard worker, and your success is a credit to that.” I blush a little at his take, and suddenly I’m glad he chose to stand behind me instead of beside, so that I can have that little moment to myself. It’s nice to be appreciated, isn’t it? Still, I shan’t let a chance to tease go. 

 “Is this flattery?” I ask with a smile in my voice, and a chipper little tilt of the head. I hear Clark chuckle quickly again. “Journalistic observation. Can’t help it when I meet someone interesting.” He jokes back, and I turn to look at him with a cheery smile. “I’m interesting, am I?” His smile is adorable, actually, it’s adorkable. The way his grin is comforting, to how his glasses sit, to the way his hair lays. Oh, I like this view. 

“Among other things.” Clark replies, that dorky smile still on his face. I truly turn my whole body to face him now, ready to continue this. “Well, I – hey, careful!” I try to start, but someone seems to take me turning around as a sign for them to skip the line. They shove in between me and the person that was in front of me, throwing an elbow into my back. I tip forward, but luckily Clark is close and catches me easily. 

“Woah there. I got ya’. It’s really getting crowded in here now.” Clark catches me by my elbows, and helps me right myself without letting go. I look around, and he’s very correct. I glare at the person who cut in line, but they don’t spare me a glance, and stoutly ignore me. “Too crowded. And we’ve barely moved in line.” I observe, and Clark nods back. “Yeah, I think our coffee is going to take a while, huh?” My lips form a thin line as I think about it. Yeah, it might even take more than a while. 

“Probably. Unless we try somewhere else?” I propose. “If you’re okay with it, so am I.” Clark looks me in the eye as I respond, and I stare back with a confident smile. I like him. “Great, let's get out of here and get some room to breathe.” We quickly shimmy out of the line, and Clark holds my hand as he uses his height and broad shoulders to wiggle us some room to move. We manage to squeeze out the door of the cafe despite having to do it sideways to pass the guy standing in it. We quickly walk to the corner of the block to escape the line that is trailing out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk. 

“Phew – I am happy to be out of there. Sorry about this.” Clark seems to relax and stretch out now in the open air. His shoulders settle and untense, and he almost stops slouching. Almost. I shake my head. “You can’t control it, or have known, don’t sweat it. Plus, you’re a buff guy, I imagine you were more crowded in there than I was.” He chuckles nervously, but turns to me with a sly grin. 

“Is this flattery I hear?” He asks, a smirk in his voice, and I laugh out loud. Good humor too! “Only altruistic observation. It was natural, really.” I quip back, and he smiles with me. “I certainly don’t mind it.” His gaze is kind as he stares down at me, and I can’t help but return it. Jimmy wasn’t kidding when he said his eyes were striking. Call me cheesy if you must, but I wouldn’t mind getting lost in them. “So, as a reporter I imagine you’re very familiar with Metropolis?” I start. 

Clark gives me a curious look, but does respond in kind to my odd question. “Comes with the territory, even if I only moved here for my career.” I smile back at him to reassure him as he answers. “Then would that familiarity happen to give you knowledge of other good cafes around here?” Clark smiles when he catches on to my plan. Although he still looks a little nervous. He rubs the back of his neck slightly. 

“It might, if the crowds from before haven’t already ruined this. But with the way this conversation has been going, am I wrong in assuming it hasn’t?” Clark asks in the most sincere voice I have ever heard. I wonder what makes a man like him nervous. He’s so tall, and such a big man. Yet he slouches to not inconvenience others, he’s nervous in the face of little old me. He’s something, I just can’t put my finger on it at the moment. But I’d like to find out. 

 “No, you’re dead on. It hasn’t ruined it all, only made it more interesting. Among other things.” I day as I grin up at him. He grins back, and holds out his hand. I hold it, and it’s more than nice. His hand is bigger than mine, warmer too. Calloused but not uncomfortable, and he holds my hand so gently. “Then I absolutely know another cafe.” I squeeze his hand excitedly. “Lead on then, few things could ruin this date now.” 

He laughs a little with joy, and his smile is starting to become addictive. He tugs me around the block, assuredly guiding me to another cafe. “Great. Com'n, this way –” He starts to say, but is cut off as the sky dumps a bucket of water on us. For fucks sake, it’s really raining now. There wasn’t even a sprinkle in warning! Just some grey clouds, and now it’s pouring. “I may have jinxed it.” I say, and yelp a little when Clark starts to tug me and jog towards something. 

“Or spoken too soon– this way!” Clark calls back, and he runs under the cover of a bus stop. Nobody else is in it, thankfully, and we both start to wipe the water off our faces and ring it out of our hair. Clark wipes the water off his glasses, and I shiver from the temperature. “God! Metropolis rain is so cold! You never get used to it.” I say, trying to keep the mood a little light in the face of this downpour. Clark nods. “Agreed! I don’t think we should risk running to the cafe, we’re already wet enough.” 

I frown at that, because it sounds like we don’t have a back up. I don’t want this date to end yet, it was going so well! “What about our date? Unless you want to have it at the bus stop.” I ask, and Clark frowns as well. He looks contemplative, and takes a moment to answer. “I think we’ll have to take a raincheck. Literally. The bus will come, do you live along one of the routes?” He says sheepishly. Damn, and this was going so well. 

“Yeah I do, you?” I answer defeatedly. Clark shakes his head. “Sadly not, but it’s alright, I’ll wait here for the rain to end.” What? I’m not going to just leave him in the rain, that’d be a dick move. And he’s been really good, and this has been an amazing date so far. We’re getting along great. I don’t want to ruin it by leaving him to soak in the cold. “I’d feel like an asshole if I just left you while I went home. You’ve been really nice, Clark.” 

Clark seems to blush a little, and puts his glasses back on his face. He’s back to that nervous stature, rubbing the back of his neck again as he asks – “Well, how about we try to go on another date? Another day?” I frown. I’m not opposed to another date, but – “That won’t keep you warm and dry.” I argue. Clark seems to blush more, and I don’t know what for until he argues back – “You never know, it might. I hear phone numbers from pretty blondes keep guys and gals alike very warm.” 

I feel my own cheeks flush, and with a small smile I tease back. “Is this flattery?” Clark, instead of continuing the teasing tone, responds seriously and with a smile. “Yes.” I think I’ll just have to trust him. Trust I’m not giving him a cold, or leaving him out to hang in this weather. I sigh, but I’m still grinning. “Alright, Clark Kent, you’ve got yourself another date.” Clark smiles brightly at me, holding my hands for a moment, squeezing them. “And your number?” He asks. 

I reach into my purse, grab a pen and loose but unused napkin, and jot my number down on it. I hand it over happily. “Here.” He takes it and tucks it into his wallet, probably one of the only places it’ll stay dry. I frown a little at the reminder I’m leaving him in the rain. Clark looks up for a second, and then quickly looks back to me. “Thank you, I think the bus is almost here.” I look around, and don’t see the bus. 

“How can you tell – well would you look at that, right on the dot.” I start to ask, but I interrupt myself as I see the bus turn the corner onto our street and slowly approach the bus stop. “It was just a feeling.” Clark explains. “A good one. Thank you for the date, Clark, despite the ending I very much enjoyed it.” I respond, and smile at Clark again as the bus comes to a stop. 

“Me too. Get home safe!” Clark calls back to me with a smile and a wave as I get on the bus. I turn around to wave back through the closing doors. “You too, and don’t forget to call or text me!” I remind him, and I just hear Clark’s response as the doors close between us. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” I sit in the back of the bus, and forlornly watch as Clark becomes a smaller and smaller speck in the distance. It’s really hard to see him through this rain. But as soon as I lose sight of him, I slump in my seat and turn back to look in the direction my seat is facing. 

I really like him, I think it was a good date, despite all the little things. But those were environmental things, not problems with Clark himself. I hope he texts me, and does take me on a second date. I’d really like to go. 

— Batman Ticket —

_Genevieve Dalton POV _

Most people like to chant ‘Eat the Rich!’, but today my job is to feed them. I’m not normally a cook for these kinds of high-scale events, but I am well connected within my field, and this is a private dinner. Some old rich friends or something are having a dinner together, and my friend was hired to be their private chef for the night. I understand why, he does cook fancy things. But he also has a lot of anxiety about these things, and was scared to cook alone. 

So he called me. I’m also a private chef, but nowhere near as bougie as he is. But I can be his sous chef for the night, handle the dishes and prep as such. It’ll be fine, really. I don’t let him know that I’m also a little nervous, because who wouldn’t be? I mean, it’s not like they can tank my ratings, I already usually work at a diner. They could tank Jeffery though, and I don’t want that to happen. So there is some pressure. 

But I’m a cook, I can handle it. I know I can, for Jeffrey. Even if one of the guests is the Prince of Gotham. 

— Break Line —

_ Bruce Wayne POV _

I’ve never hated Julie Madison, but I’ve never been fond of her in the way she wanted. I understand where she’s coming from, social pressure as well as pressure at home that pushes her to remain in the circle of the Gothamite elites. But it's not where she wants to be, deep down. She doesn’t quite believe in the imperialistic norm of the socialites, and I think she would much rather focus on developing a career instead of furthering her family's legacy of inherited wealth. 

I don’t know if it’s for moral reasons or because her passion for acting outweighs the silver spoon she’s been force-fed all her life. I don’t think I should be the one to point this out to her, though. It’ll mean so much more and stick so much harder if she figures it out for herself. I do hope she does though, it’ll do her a lot of good. 

A lot more good than this farce of a dinner. The food is good, the wine is perfect, and the atmosphere is as romantic as you’d expect it to be. But neither am I interested in her, or her in me. I wouldn’t hate a one-night stand, but I know it wouldn’t mean to her what it means to me. And she’d hate it. She doesn’t actually want me, it’s just the expectation her parents and friends are forcing on her. Gothams golden girl and Gothams Dark Prince would make quite the pair, if in name only. 

Her make-up is immaculate, but her smile is forced. Mine is as well, but for her own sanity I hope she doesn’t notice. This mask is easy for me to wear, I’ve practiced. But Julie just got back from a movie shoot, and it’s been a while since she’s had to put on her porcelain mask of perfection for Gotham. She’s trying very hard to make this work, and if we were anyone else I would be falling head over heels right now. 

But we’re not anyone else, and I’ve known her since High-school. I was admittedly not the nicest back then, but she was kind to me. I owe it to her to show the same kindness back. Neither of us want to be here, but this dinner will likely tide her parents overbearing attitude for a bit. It’s the least I can do for her. Still, this is dragging on. I should end this soon, as politely as I can. 

And I am saved by the bell, specifically the alarm bell. I feel my phone vibrate three times in my back pocket, and I know that is the tell I set for a bank robbery. As Julie goes to pour more wine I sneak a quick glance at said phone to confirm. There's a robbery at the First National Bank of Gotham, no rouges spotted. I should go handle it, but I also need to make sure Julie doesn’t feel slighted. Bathroom, Wayne Enterprise Emergency, Apology text. It’s a quick plan, but it will have to do. 

“If you’ll excuse me for a second, Julie, I’ll be back shortly.” I say with practiced grace and an easy smirk. Julie looks a little caught off guard as I stand, but she smiles pleasantly. “Of course, Bruce. I won’t be going anywhere.” I internally wince at that, but still smile back and button the front of my seat as I leave her dining table and make my way out of the dining room. Instead of turning right towards the bathrooms I turn left to make my way out through the kitchen. 

If I remember the layout of her penthouse correctly there’s a window to the fire escape there, which will lead down into an obscure alleyway. I send the location to the Batcomputer which then starts to self-drive the Batmobile to said alley. Luckily Julie lives on the edge of the city, it won’t be long. By the time I make it to the alley the car will be there and ready, my suit in the back to change into. 

I’m apparently a little too confident in my plan that I fail to notice someone in the kitchen as I enter until they ask – “Can I help you sir?” I hold back a startled flinch and immediately look up to assess the situation. It’s just one other person in the kitchen with me, a Ginger woman with her hair pulled back in a bun. She’s in normal clothes with an apron over it, and yellow plastic gloves to protect her hands as she scrubs dishes. Ah, one of the hired chefs. 

I had thought since Julie had hired private chefs for the night, and we had already just finished dinner, they would be gone by now. Shit. Alright, new plan, play nice, pretend I’m an asshole abandoning Julie, and look like going out the window is normal Playboy Nepo-baby behavior. I give the cook my most charming smirk, and put the flirting on thick. 

“Absolutely Sweetheart, I wanted to thank the girl who just made one of the most amazing meals I’ve ever had.” I say, and the woman blushes furiously, looking caught off guard. Her eyes frantically look to another door, but not the one I came from or the one she used to deliver the food to us. I hadn’t paid much attention to her then. But it’s a different door, are there more people? 

“I - I - Thank you sir, but I’m not the cook - tonight at least - Jeffery made your meal. He deserves your compliments.” So there is at least one more. He must be taking a break on the other side of the door. If I move this along quickly enough I won’t have to talk to or excuse myself from him either. I turn the charm up as I turn to look at the woman again. 

“Well, pass on my compliments for me, but I have to admit, while the meal was good, it didn’t look quite as good as you do. May I know your name?” I ask, leaning a hand against the kitchen island. The woman's face is a mess of red flush, which I have to admit is very charming, and she stutters out – “Gen – Genevieve Dalton, sir. You - sorry -” I laugh a little to interrupt her, and wave off her stumbling. “Bruce Wayne, but I bet you just remembered that.” 

She shyly nods, and I continue to smile. “Genevieve, a beautiful name. It suits you. You wouldn’t be willing to part with your number, would you?” It’s a little far, but I need to get this over quickly. There is an active robbery going on. She looks caught off guard, and this time her eyes do flicker to the door that leads to Julie. Good, think I’m an asshole, wave me off, and I will be out of her quickly. The Batmobile must almost be here by now. “Reunion not going well?” Is what she asks instead, and what? 

“What?” I ask a little dumbly, because what reunion is she talking about? Genevieve looks nervous as she answers – “The Highschool reunion, sir? Ms. Madison said this was a reunion dinner.” Ah, maybe I didn’t give Julie enough credit. But I hit the nail on the head when I said that she doesn’t want to date me. If she did she would have bragged about it to the cooks, but instead she misnamed the dinner on purpose. I can’t fault her for that, but I do now have to roll with the punches. My smile is a little strained as I quip back –

“Have you ever had a fun reunion? It’s always people who have mellowed out since high-school, and I did not come to talk taxes. So, number?” I rush, and Genevieve fumbles for a second to take off her gloves and write her number on a recipe card before handing it to me. I tuck into my breast pocket, and begin to trudge towards the window to make my escape, already planning my next line, when Genevieve stops my in my tracks by asking – 

“If I may ask, sir, what did you want my number for?” I turn to look at her slowly. Is she - is she joking? What does she think I want her number for? Still, play stupid games, win stupid prizes, and I should have just taken the damn elevator. So I plaster on an amused smile, and hit her with “So I can take you on a date of course.” Genevieve looks incredibly surprised, and very embarrassed, as her hands clasp together and squeeze in surprise. “Me?” She asks in a high pitched voice, and I have to chuckle at that. She’s dense, but she’s cute. 

“Do boys usually ask for your number for other reasons?” I jest, and she shakes her head. “Sorry sir, I just thought you were unhappy with my service or something and wanted to know who to call to complain to or something.” That’s a low opinion, although whether it's of myself or her I’m unsure. I shake my head negatively though, and placate her. “No, no, nothing like that. You were perfect. And call me Bruce, I will be taking you on a date after all, as long as you're interested.” 

She pauses for a moment, thinking it over, before looking me in the eyes and nodding. “I would like that, I think.” She responds. I give her an award winning smile, and say “Then I’ll text you the details. Now you’ve been wonderful, Darling, but I do need to leave before Julie notices I’m not in the bathroom.” And with that I turn towards the window. “So you're taking the window?” Genevieve asks incredulously. I shoot her a smirk over my shoulder as I open the window and climb out. 

“She’d notice the front door! And I’d hate to be rude.” I call back, and Genevieve comes closer to watch as I make my way down the fire escape. “And this isn’t?” She asks. “She’ll find it more amusing this way, and besides she’ll expect this of me.” I answer, slowly climbing down so as to not look like I do this every night. Not even a playboy is escaping by window every night. When I look up, Genevieve is smiling at me with a raised eyebrow. “Do this often, then?” She asks teasingly. I actually give her a genuine smile back, she looks better when not so nervous. 

“I did back in highschool. Do me a favour?” I ask. Genevieve laughs a little, but nods back at me. “Don’t tell her it was the kitchen window?” I say, covering my tracks. Genevieve smiles down at me. “I won’t.” She promises, and goes back into the kitchen and closes the window after her. Once I’m sure she’s not looking, I scale down the fire escape with much more practice and speed than Bruce Wayne is known for. The Batmobile is right where I directed it to, and I enter quickly. 

I direct it to drive to the robbery as I get changed, and I call Alfred while I’m at it. “Yes, Master Bruce?” Pennyworth's voice comes through the comms clear as day. “Text Julie Madison an apology, something came up at Wayne Enterprises and needed my immediate attention. I won’t be coming back.” I say. I can almost envision Alfred’s disapproving gaze. “I thought you were on a date, sir?” He prods. “No, turns out it was a reunion. But I do have a date, reserve a table at a nice restaurant in the next few days.” I order. “I thought you weren’t interested in Julie, sir?” Alfred asks. “It’s not with Julie.” I say, and take control of the Batmobile, speeding it down the streets of Gotham. “Batman out.” I say, ending the line before Alfred can respond. 

I’ll deal with that after the robbery, and after patrol. Whenever I get home.

— Flash Ticket —

_ Barry Allen POV _

My work as a forensic Detective is just as important to me as my work as the Flash. I think I wasn’t already working to fight crime, doing it with my powers wouldn’t have come as naturally to me. So I do take my work seriously, no matter what others say. But the thing about work is that it comes with colleagues. The Flash doesn’t really have colleagues, at least I haven’t run into any yet. My work for the Central City Crime Lab though? That comes with plenty of colleagues, colleagues who love to rag on me. 

“Barry, I saw you flirt with Kristen when she first got here, and if that’s how you flirt with everyone – no wonder you never get the girl.” James Forrest teases me as we walk back from the local coffee shop, our arms full of different drinks for the office. “Hey! That flirting was good! She just wasn’t interested! That doesn’t mean my flirting was bad!” I defend myself hotly, managing to balance the two full drink carriers I’m holding as I turn to glare at him slightly. James just laughs. 

“Nah Man, it was so bad. Your lines were so cheesy! No way that ever works.” He doubles down, looking smug. I grumble a little. “It totally works.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Has it? Has it really?” I pout a little, because as much as I hate it, he’s not wholly wrong. I haven’t gotten a date yet from a single girl I’ve asked. Hell, I don’t even get dates as the Flash! I know it’d be a terrible idea and all, but it doesn’t matter, because even as a hero I can’t seem to pull it off. Is it the flirting style that’s the problem? Or is it just me? 

As I think this I spot someone in the park, behind James. A gorgeous brunette, sitting alone at a park bench, just eating a sandwich and reading a newspaper. This is my chance! I’ll show him that I can flirt. “Hold this. Watch. I got this!” I say, and put my two drink carriers on top of his. “Hey!” James exclaims, struggling to balance all of the drinks, but I don’t pay him any mind and confidently stride towards the girl. 

It’s gonna work this time. 

— Break Line —

_ Barry Allen POV _

I run my hand through my hair as I approach the woman on the bench. She looks focused on her newspaper, but not deaf to the world. She’s dressed professionally, but I don’t see a ring. So I’m not homewrecking, hopefully. She finishes the sandwich in the time it takes me to walk over. I stop about a foot or two away from, I don’t want to crowd her like an asshole or something. 

“Hey beautiful, what’s your name?” I say, making sure I’m smiling and not slouching. She looks up, looking a little confused and wary. She eyes me up and down, spares a glance around to see that I’m not talking to anyone else, before looking back up at me. “Oh, uh… Charlotte?” She says slowly, and I smirk. I have just the line for this. “No surname? That’s fine, my names’ Barry Allen, and I wouldn’t mind lending you mine.” 

She keeps looking at me with those pretty green eyes, and stumbles for a moment - “Wha - you -” until she cuts herself off by laughing out loud. Her eyes close with the laugh a little, and she brings her hand up to cover her mouth, letting her newspaper fall to her lap. I wilt at her reaction. “Aw, it’s not that bad is it?” I say, my tone just short of a whine. I thought I had this. 

She responds through chuckles. “Depends how much you meant it. Seriously? So bad - but ironically? That was so good -” I perk up with a – “Really?” Hey, I’ll take it. She may think it's funny, but she doesn’t hate it. Still laughing, Charlotte manages to answer me with – “Yes!” With that, I slide into the spot beside her on the bench. I can and will do this, I can woo her. 

I slip my arm on the back of the bench, resting it behind her but not touching. I haven’t asked if she’s okay with that yet. “Want another?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrow for comedic effect. Charlotte gives me a blinding smile, her eyes shining with mirth. I could get lost in those eyes, and I wouldn’t mind. “If it’s as funny as the last one? Absolutely!” God, you can hear her smile in her voice, it’s contagious. 

“Did you just come out of the oven?” I eagerly ask. “Pft -  no.” Charlotte responds. “Damn! Then we better call the fire department, because you're smoking hot!” And I emphasize the end with an exaggerated wink. Charlotte begins to laugh out loud again, and I haven’t heard a better sound in my life. I want to keep hearing it, so I keep going. “I’m learning about important dates in history, want to be one of them?” 

At this point Charlotte fully lets go of her newspaper, and it slips off her lap, and she holds onto her side and the seat of the bench to keep from falling over in laughter. I push on, this is great. “Are you a flower? Because I wanna’ Bee with you forever!” Charlotte's head tilts back as she laughs, and I can’t help but feel some laughter bubble up in me. This is fun, this is amazing, this is working. 

 “Call me mister Flintstone, ‘Cause I can –” Charlotte holds her hand up and I stop talking, but her face is still smiling. “Stop! Stop! I’m gonna laugh myself to death!” She says, and I start to laugh at myself. I can’t say my flirting has ever gotten this reaction before, but I don’t hate it. In fact, I like it a lot. Charlotte wipes a tear from her eye as she rights herself, a few breathy laughs escaping her as she calms down. My own giggles come to a slow stop as well, and we both just bask in the joyful energy of the moment for a second. 

Charlotte turns to me with a smile on her pretty face, her lips quirking in amusement. “Barry Allen, you are a riot. It’s Eakins by the way.” Eakins? What? “Huh?” I end up saying, and my confusion must be very apparent on my face because Charlotte can’t help but giggle at it. “My last name, it’s Eakins.” She explains once she stops giggling. I exaggerate a pout on my face. 

“Aw, not Allen?” I joke, and Charlotte laughs again. I like making her laugh. “You’re funny, but I need more than pick-up lines to convince me.” She teases. I give her my best smile, which at this point I don’t even need to try, she just makes me smile. “But you’re open to being convinced?” I ask. 

“I just nearly fell off this bench laughing, and you think I’m not?” Charlotte leans forward, her voice still happy, but there is a sweeter tone behind what she just said. Am I about to get a date? I think I am. “Doesn’t hurt to be sure, so, how about –” I’m cut off by the sound of a phone alarm coming from Charlotte's back pocket. Charlotte looks panicked for a second as she pulls out her phone, and I watch her turn off a 12:45 pm alarm, and then look at me with a sad and sorry expression. 

“Shoot, sorry, I gotta go. This is my lunch break, and that means it’s over.” She says sheepishly, and stands up, putting her phone in her purse and shouldering it. She reaches down for her newspaper, and I scramble to hold onto her newspaper as well as she straightens. This was going well! “Wait! Can I have your number before you go?” It’s now or never it seems. 

“Planning on convincing me?” Charlotte asks, her smile coming back. I smile back. “I’d like to try.” I say, hoping my sincerity comes across in my tone. Charlotte bites her bottom lip in thought for a second, before letting go of the newspaper for the second to take out a business card and hand it to me. “Alright, here. Text me sometime, and I’ll see if I can make some time. Sell me on the surname and all that.” She says, and we trade the newspaper for the card. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring a powerpoint.” I say, and it makes Charlotte laugh. I like doing that. “Thanks for making me laugh, at least. Bye!” She turns and walks away, presumably in the direction of her work. “Anytime!” I call, and I tear my gaze away from her retreating form to examine the card she gave me. It’s a business card. Charlotte Eakins, Star Labs, Receptionist, and her number and email. Oh yeah, she was definitely dressed professionally. 

James approaches me not a moment later, setting the miraculously still unspilled drinks on the bench beside me. He looks disgruntled, probably because I left him holding so much stuff, and also watches Charlotte reach the end of the park, glance back, and then cross the street. I wave at her back, but she's already turned around. 

“So? How’d you fuck that up?” James asks. I wave the card in front of his face. “I didn’t! It worked! I’ve got a date!” And man, I am excited for it. I can already tell, it’s going to be amazing. James balks at my proof. “What the fuck? No way –” He exclaims, but I hold my hand in front of his face as I tuck her card safely away in my coat pocket. “Talk to the hand, James, talk to the hand. My flirting rocks.” Because guess what, I got the girl. I got a date. 

---

Hey! I'm going to continue this story on Ao3 if you want to read more!

Okay I need some help, I am trying to find websites to watch some of my shows like Medici and teen wolf and stuff like that but I can’t find any can you guys please help

ᴄʟɪɴᴏᴍᴀɴɪᴀ | ᴊ.ʟᴇᴀɢᴜᴇ

gn reader ykkkkk

disclaimer: clinomania is an excessive desire to remain in bed

ʙ.ᴡᴀɴʏᴇ

Upon finding out that you were a bed addict: Bruce is at ease. It’s a 50/50 type of adjustment. It is beneficial in some circumstances. He doesn't have to run around, chasing you around Gotham or worry about escaping.

He practically spoils you with the highest quality things for sleeping. 

A lovely custom made king sized silk sheeted with both of your favorite colors along with matching pajamas and if you act right: squishmellows.

He doesn't care that you sleep every day, he is usually in his bat-cave or risking his life somewhere, however, whenever he have may time on his side: spend time with him.

A good thing about this is that it actually convinces him into getting full 7 hours of sleep, if he’s lucky maybe even 4. 

He's touch-starved after 30+ years in working apart of Gotham as Batman so don’t just remove him and hump a pillow.

He wants you to love him, rely on him, cherish him and vice versa.

So even if sleeping in all the time won’t be an issue in the beginning of this quarrel it will be eventually. 

Now, it takes Bruce a while to be tested over his limits, as Gotham’s best; he is a very patient and studious man, it takes a while for him to get very riled up. 

So, when it is becoming an issue for Bruce, it is an issue that must be dealt with accordingly and better yet abundantly.

He just wants you to rely on him. But he can't just have you sleeping all the time. He refuses to force anything. He maybe a stalker but at least he has class and you can’t penalized him for it.

He tries his very best to keep everything consensual to the max.

As much as he would die and kill for you. He’ll respect it. Until he can no longer take it. But all he asks is for your love, not snores.

He finds it harder and that you both are drifting apart. 

When he does finally confronts you about it, you instantly spat back with the same aggression.

He then loses it all when you blame him for the clinomania. “Maybe you should start getting off your ass and do something about it instead of bitching about it in your sleep, like a fucking coward you always are.” his tone matches his rude demeanor, and that night: he slept in the bat cave.

You both end up “disagreeing.” that night. 

However, it doesn’t take long when you both are back on the same terms, you now spend more time with him (even if you hate him)

You know he means well at his heart but his words doesn’t match that energy and E+ for effort, right?

Although, the mighty Bruce Wayne is patient, caring and selfless: do not be fooled when it tests his level of patience. He plans everything through to prevent catastrophe. 

Out of all of the league; Bruce is the most coordinated

ᴄ.ᴋᴇɴᴛ

Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Clark is bruised. It is such an overwhelming emotion when your soulmate just gives up on you like that. Will you leave him like Lois? Will he not be able to protect you? 

Perhaps, it is his insecurities or possible PTSD corrupts his level of judgement but he refuses to even allow you out of his sight.

He walked inside your shared bedroom to find you there laying lifelessly. He used his abilities to fly you to the hospital. When you woke up, you would wake up from the light in the hospital lights. 

Rubbing your eyes, you let out mini yawns. “Where are we, Clark?” You yawned while smacking your dry lips together as you search the white hospital room with grogginess.

Clark would stand there, motionless and pale with his mouth agape from the confusion as the doctors behind him had exited the room with slight annoyance.

It wasn’t long until he pulled you to his chest and cried his eyes out, claiming how he assumed he lost you just like everything else around him he cherished. However, you had no sympathy from the man who stole you from your home.

Days turned into weeks when you were on the couch, refusing to sleep in the same room as him: he would just watch. His strength and rush of adrenaline prevent him from needing sleep, he would just watch. 

You in his ray of vision makes a wave of bliss rupture throughout his body, it was a sensation he did not wish to cease.

He didn’t have the time to worry about the world. Metropolis, not even the league when you are his purpose and his future.

He forces you out of bed, and you cannot fight the last son of Krypton, so you oblige. Gym dates, picnic’s, beach walks, restaurants even though he (and the help of Bruce) rented the place out because no one should know of your existence. 

Your friends and family had been ghosting you, the moment you had “disappeared.” 

So, there was no one else but him.

With all of this time with him, you then realized that sleeping is possible preventing you to actually know Clark. 

That maybe he wasn’t all that bad when you first met him. He catches on that you’re warming up to him.

On the contrary; chill days on the farm house, watching the television together, his arm draped around you while you lay next to him, he stares at your eyes which you notice instantly. “What?” you asked curiously, full of intrigue of his answer. 

He laughs through his nose. “It’s just good to see that now I’ve finally gotten your attention.” he smiles, after planting a quick peck on your cheek before caressing your shoulder and returns his attention to the television. 

It isn’t only the thought that makes Clark realizes what his primary purpose is: it’s all the distractions he is willing to put aside to make sure nothing will ever happened to take distract his lover from him. 

Out of all of the league; Clark is most impulsive..

ᴅ.ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ

Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Diana is obstinate. Perhaps she is maybe overthinking the disorder but it isn’t herself to blame. She isn’t so bad? You should be grateful your friends have both arms. 

So, why must you spend your days, in bed laying there when she’s there?

Most times, you’re not even sleeping. Dazing off as if you don’t wanna be there with her. “Don’t you grow bore to this game of yours?” She greets you as you were slightly awake, barely able to stand with the cup of coffee in your palm. 

She would come home from her human job, surprised to see that you are still able to even walk. “You are given night time for a reason.” Diana continues, a hand on her fancy hips are she gives you ‘the look.’

You stare back at her rather insult. “I’m given nighttime but you take it for your own intimacy..” you sneered with annoyance.

That’s how it always is.

She would come home for you to do something for your health and then that’s the last she would see you.

It’s ironic though. That you still are somewhat relying on her abilities to provide like groceries maybe even snacks.

It just doesn’t feel right, and a god surely doesn’t bite their tongues.

For now; it was time to use the voice that she was given from the gods that blessed her. “My dear, this must end. The childish acts and the foolish games of this cycle.” she says from within the doorframe of the shared bedroom in the penthouse. 

Diana is well aware you are awake. 

The door was off its hedges from the first time you were taken here.

She rounds the bed as you sit up, now realizing she is now serious. “We are lovers, are we not?” she states while you just scoff at her sentence in annoyance. “We are supposed to care and love for each other.” She continues, you look up at her with a now dropped expression.

You found this to be unentertaining. “You have truly shown that you no longer care.” Diana says, her gaze dropping as her eyes become glossy while her body shook with discomfort. 

You wince, she was crying. Fake crying. “I-I will spend more time with you,” you say as you swing your legs over the bed to embrace the now trembling woman.

You felt a coil in your stomach as you hugged your captor. The feeling was unsettling but anything to get some peace and quiet. “I will spend more time with you.” You coo reassuringly as you soothe her embrace with yours, her arms wrapped around yours in almost an instant. 

Diana was never so easily convinced.

It was wrong, but when was anyone so ever perfect? It was something that had to be done. 

A re-motivator, an eye opener is what she would call her performance the other day.

You now spend more time with her. You claimed her as your lover! Surely things will now be different, no more walking into the penthouse with a back turned to her, but rather a warm welcome. 

Diana maybe cruel, but she is no fool. It would be best for her to leave the situation alone, wait for the right timing. She is almost like Bruce, but what separates her is her pride. Diana would probably be the type of yandere to “handle” the problem in a more straight-forward way.

Out of all of the league; Diana is most manipulative.

ᴀ.ᴄᴜʀʀʏ

Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Arthur is crazed. He would joke and attempt to hide his anger: not wanting to scare you, but there is this uprising that is waiting to be unleased.

He is probably the least patient within the league: and not afraid to express his emotions and probably a brat sometimes but maybe some can’t handle the honest truth.

He is honestly the less strict and most laidback but to a certain extent.

When he find you sleeping the first time after he kidnapped you: its cute to him. 

He thinks you’re dream your way out of this walking nightmare of a relationship, well that's what he thought at first. 

However, that “cuteness” easily went away when you were just laying down, not even sleeping, listening to your favorite song. Not even reading a book or catching up on your series. 

You were like....a dull person with no meaning or purpose in life.

Have you always been like this? When he took saved you, did he miss a day in your life?

It doesn’t take long until he confronts you head on. Like Diana, but instead of a thought-out plan; he goes straight in, just like he always does. 

You hear his loud, wet boots echo through the wooden floors of the house and the door is wide open so he walks in. 

His body and hair dripping in water which makes you scrunch and turn your back to him. He takes a seat, not minding the mess he is leaving on the bed.

He roughly nudged you slightly, hoping to get your attention. You groan annoyingly but turn your face slightly to oblige his presence. “You gonna get out of bed or what?” Arthur asks while you gaze off into space.

You then roll your eyes, finding his presence a complete waste of time. “Hey, when are we gonna talk? Like an actual couple?” He raises his voice a bit, this time you sit up and match his aggression.

You kiss your teeth harshly. “So the type of couple that ruins lives? Teach me of how a ‘couple’ is suppose to act, Arthur.” You spat with annoyance. His nostrils flared as he clearly shows more anger within his expression. 

Now, you’ve crossed a line. “Well, why don’t you get the hell off of your ass for once and maybe I can show you that I ain’t really that bad.” He replies with a very much more pissed off look.

You then stare at him like he was insane, which he was. “Well, you haven’t really done anything to show you’re good either!” He then just seem like he was holding himself back from anything. 

You scoffed sheepishly. Who did he think he was, better yet, who did he think you were? “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve, your highness?” You mocked groggily.

Just about you were going to lay down, a calloused hand had been wrapped around your throat, forcing you out of the comfort of the sheets and now chest-to-chest with Arthur..

A very enraged Arthur who hadn’t even realized he was hurting you. “I bust my ass providing for you and all you do is just lay around! You know how much people would kill to be you right now?!” His grip was even more tighter than it was before.

However, You weren’t even taken chances even if you were going to die, even if you could see dots when your vision blurred. At least you didn’t have to be near him. “Go be with them..then.” You managed to croak until he soften his grip, allowing you to gasp for breath.

He chuckles loudly, and pretends to think hardly. “Thought ‘bout it. Don’t wanna.” He says, his grip from your throat was gone as he keeps you in his arms.

Of course you were scared, you could feel death from him. “I chose you.” He murmured slightly, his muscular yet moist arms kept you in an embrace, while you were confused and very much scared; since the moment you got here.

Your glare deepen, not giving him the reaction he expected but that honestly turned him on a bit. Soon, a very long exhausting kiss was met between you both. Tongues wrestling with yours that caused you to painfully grip his arms in weary.

Then he dropped you onto the bed. He got up and made his way to the door. “Try sleeping that off. Call me if you want an orgasm.” he said, leaving as if nothing happened. 

Arthur maybe a douchebag but he isn’t as sinister! He just has a hard way of expressing what he wants in a romantic type way. You just know where to hit him, and it really gets under his skin. He never wanted to use anyone you love against you but, damn, he needed to go extreme.

Out of all of the league; Arthur is the most sadistic.

ʙ.ᴀʟʟᴇɴ

Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Barry is bothered. Not like he has a problem with it (he does). Everyone needs a little break. Surely you did too.

It’s a big adjustment. Living with a complete stranger that claims they love everything about you! So he get’s it totally. He doesn’t get that you’re just in the bed and just laying there though. 

Like a NPC in one of his video games almost. 

Barry has the tendency to overthink a lot. He claims that you’re just waiting for the right time to leave him! 

Perhaps installing that camera in the warehouse wasn’t the worst idea.

Ever since you both been together, he always seems he is coming “home” alone.

No warm welcome.

No massage.

Nothing.

He wants you to like kiss him or show affection. He doesn't want to be the only putting energy in the relationship. He felt like you were giving up. 

Like Clark he would find some things for you to do. You would go on dates. Not expensive dinners but dates. He would take you to the movies, strolls in the park, small coffee dates. Something to keep you busy

With the money Bruce gave him; he would take you on small trips. He just wanted you to spend time with him, you know. He just wants the love that he craved for what feels like forever.

Walking back into the warehouse: after a very unencouraging conversation with his father in jail, he comes back with you no where to be found. 

He sighs, not even angry or sad: just so disappointed.

He threw the groceries to the ground before stomping towards the bedroom. He isn't angry; he is just disappointed and maybe sad. “H-Hey? Maybe we can have a quick chat? If you’re not cool, I get it.” He stammers a bit, damnit why can he ever NOT be awkward.

You turn immediately yet groggily. “I think we both drifting away with each other.” Barry says, getting an intrigued look from you with a head tilt. He notices quickly and panics. “I know that I am not the best right now with the debt and everything, and I’m sorry for that.” He stammers, taking breathy gasps of breath as you notice he is becoming anxious.

He breaks eye contact to rub his glossy eyes, licking his now dry lips and continues. “I really do care and love you but I just want to-” He continues, soon interrupted with an embrace from you. 

His arms drop to his sides, unfortunately, the tears will not stop. 

You felt yourself go numb from the tears falling from his eyes. “I’ll do better.” You say, holding him more gently and it was like words in heaven.

He felt himself stop crying within your embrace before wrapping you into his arms as you cuddled for the rest of the day.  

Although Barry is the most immature, there are times when even he, the dummy of the league can become very sensitive. Maybe he is being sensitive, or maybe he cares a lot. He was always taught how to love and he just wants to help you in the best way he can.

Out of all of the league: Barry is the most gullible.

ᴠ.ꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ

Upon finding that you were a bed addict; Victor is curious. It’s not his place but shouldn’t you be out living your best life? Not wanting you to escape or anything but like you’re human! You should be out winning football games or shopping or something with your friends.  

He doesn't force you to get up cause like he’s afraid he will hurt you with his body but he does convince you to go outside. “Wanna go shopping?” or “there's a grocery store with your favorites.” He can and will hack everything that is intelligence and robotic to cheat your way through life.

He wants you to know that even with his current state: he can be slightly useful in a way. He wants you to know that there is something can be valuable to life other than just laying down in bed. 

He scans you whenever he pleases. Checking your vitals etc. He would just stare at you, you’re the only thing he had left.

Like Clark, he would watch you sleep: because what he has become, sleep is not a necessity to him. 

Your peaceful and stress-free expression as you slept your worries away. He didn't waste any time before sitting near your bed. He then scanned your body health which was up to his standards. 

He let out a small chuckle before watching you grunt. He rose a brow as his robotic eye scanned your mind. His eye widens at the stage you went through.  

That’s why you always slept in! He felt himself grow guilty from the problematic events you had to go through. Bullying, discrimination, family problems, trust issues, parental issues, dead relatives and friends etc etc.

He never felt so upset before. 

He would wake you up with your favorite food from your favorite restaurant. “Y/N,” He greets you. It was rare to see you out of the bed. Of course you would get up for food and yet again his predictions paid off again. You just do a small and sloppy wave.

He checks your vitals again, just in case you were unhealthy. “Last night, I was there when you slept,” Victor continues and you almost drop your glass. “How many times do I have to tell you to NOT watch me when I sleep!” You screech annoyingly, it was so uncomfortable to you. 

He ignored your outburst and continued, “I know what happened, your childhood. The pain, the suffering..” He said reassuringly, causing you to stare at him with mouth full. You then blink into a shocked state when you realize what he meant.

Victor walks beside you. “Please know that I’m here. You never have to do anything alone again.” He spoke while his robotic hand went to the center of this chest-plate. 

You smiled with tear-filled eyes before jumping onto his lap and hugged him. “Thank you.” You muttered, actually glad that it was all out there as he pulled you into an embrace. “You’re welcome.” He replied as his hands soothingly comforted your back.

Perhaps, Victor is a stalker, maybe curious. He will always knows with the cursed knowledge given and automatically investigates the source of the clinomania. He shows more mercy and remorse towards his S/O sleeping habits that doesn't bother him much due to him always being by their side. 

Out of all of the League; Victor is most sympathetic.

© tonystarksproperty