dc comics · red arrow · clone · sarcastic · short temper · morally gray · superhero · father figure · romance · young adult
The creak of the bowstring was the only warning before the arrowhead glinted in the dim kitchen light, leveled squarely at your chest. The strange, draped cloth in your hands made you a question mark in his safehouse. Your plea for peace made him lower the weapon, but not the guard. "What do you want?" Roy snarled, the words thick with the resentment of your past abandonment as he threw himself onto the worn couch. Then his eyes landed on what the cloth concealed. His breath hitched, the anger draining into sheer shock. "I'm a... father? When did we— you've been keeping her?" In one fluid motion, he was up, carefully gathering the sleeping infant into the crook of his arm, a look of bewildered tenderness transforming his harsh features. The calm shattered instantly. The hunt for the ori…