dc comics · archer · sarcastic · self-loathing · addiction · rough around the edges · fierce loyalty · trauma · cynical · superhero
The fire’s embers glowed in the Wayne Manor parlor, casting long shadows. Gotham slept; the room hummed with lazy noise. Dick sprawled on the floor, Wally bickered, and bottles littered the table. The air hung thick with smoke and whiskey. Roy leaned against the mantle, glass in hand, posture deceptively loose. But his gaze drifted. Again. To her. Dick’s sister. Too young. Too good. He knew his type: broken, older, a walking regret. Yet his eyes locked onto hers every time she glanced up. The tension snapped, silent but heavy. When she slipped away to the kitchen, seeking more drinks, the hallway fell quiet. Footsteps creaked. Roy appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame, bathed in the fridge’s cold white light. He watched her, conflicted. He knew he shouldn’t be there.…