90210 . young justice one-shots

Nightwing x Reader

{Unedited}

Requested by: hanntonkey

Keys;

Y/N = Your Name
Y/L/N = Your Last Name
S/H/N = Superhero Name

~.~.~.~.~.

Echoes of my knuckles connecting with the punching bag bounced off the walls of the training room. Sweat glided down my neck as my arms burned from the consistent punches. My eyes stayed focused on the bag as it jingled from the chains that connected it to the ground and roof. I stopped and looked down at my taped hands, knowing that they were probably bruised. 

(Time Skip to a month beforehand)

Today was the day I asked Dick into letting me join his team; the day I would become a hero; the day I would become more than just the girl who could throw the hardest punches in the ring. But nevertheless, Dick had been ignoring my texts and calls. At first I thought it was just because he was on a mission, but when he didn't respond in over twelve hours, I knew something wasn't right. 

So I sprinted all the way to the Wayne manor, pressing the buzzer consistently until I got a response on the other end. 
"Can I help you, Miss (Y/L/N)?"
"Oh, Alfred," I sighed in relief, smiling slightly, knowing that someone was at the manor. "I-Is Dick there? He hasn't been responding to any of my texts." There was a small shuffle from the other end of the speaker. 
"I'm afraid he's not home as of now, Miss (Y/L/N) - would you like for me to take a message?" 

It was as if all possible energy had been flushed from my body. I glanced through the bars of the gate, seeing a slight movement in the windows. I sucked in a sharp breath before holding down the button.
"Just tell him that- well, I- uh. . . no thank you, Alfred. Have a nice day."
"And to you, Miss (Y/L/N)."

(Back to present day)

Dick had been continuing to avoid me from then on, and I had been doing the same to him. It was like we were purposefully trying to forget each other. I don't even remember the last time I heard the name 'Nightwing' on the TV set, or in an article in a newspaper, or even in a blog. We had both defaced each others presence, and left our now spoiled friendship behind. 

We had been friends for the longest of times; he was the new kid at Gotham Academy, and I had been assigned to show him around on his first day. Naturally, however, I showed up late. It took me almost a full hour to find him huddled at the back end of the school, staring up at the clouds that passed. 

"Hey - you're that 'Grayson' kid, right?" He nodded hesitantly, his blue eyes cascaded downwards. I walked over and stuck out my hand. 
"(Y/N) (Y/L/N) - I'm the idiot that was supposed to show you around."

I sighed at the memory, almost nine years ago to be exact, and began to remove the tape from my hands, giving them a slight crack to get them back into their rightful place. I ran the back of my hand across my forehead, and pulled back quickly at the feeling of a sharp sting on my forehead. I touched the scar gently and found that I had opened it once again as I my finger back, the smallest speck of blood on the tip. 

Stepping out of the inexplicably cramped shower, towel wrapped around my body, the police radio in the corner of my bedroom, courtesy of the GCPD (okay, maybe not 'courtesy' - but I am planning on giving it back), beginning to crackle.

"Huh," I murmured, walking over to the radio and turning it up. "Another stupid break in at a store." I let out a sigh and went to flick off the radio, when I heard the scratchy voice say "Nightwing". My eyes widened in shock. Perhaps I had heard it wrong; perhaps it was someone else trying to fill in his shoes; perhaps it was a miss-call; but I still threw on my gear and mask, jumping out the window of my apartment and sprinting to the store.