#Nightwing x reader

[gaypirate420]

Dick Grayson by Dan Mora you will always be famous.

[luv-lock]

Hawks!Y/n: My job here is done *dramatic hair flip*

Dick: But you didn't do anything. You just watched Bane beat the shit out of Bruce—

Hawks!Y/n: Exactly Richard, exactly *jump off the roof*

[luvvictoria]

You weren’t sure how it started — maybe he complained one too many times about looking “fuzzy” in his selfies, or maybe you were just bored and holding tweezers — but somehow, Dick Grayson ended up in a chair in the middle of the Batcave, letting you shape his eyebrows.

You stood between his legs, brows furrowed in focus, one hand gently holding his jaw to keep him still while the other went to work.

“Don’t move,” you warned him. “I swear to God if you flinch and I ruin your arch, I’m shaving them off completely.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered dramatically, eyes fluttering closed — but then he puckered his lips into a stupid exaggerated kissy face.

You paused.

He opened one eye, grinning.

“Stop,” you muttered, biting back a smile.

Another kissy face. He leaned slightly forward like he was begging for a smooch.

“Dick.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re gonna get a tweezer in the eye.”

“I’m just saying,” he smirked, “you’re holding my face so tenderly. It’s giving ‘lover grooming his war-torn boyfriend’ vibes.”

You sighed, plucking another hair. “More like ‘tired nurse dealing with delusional patient.’”

“Ouch. But accurate.”

You stayed focused, trying not to laugh as he made another kissy face, this time with a wink. His hands were on your hips now, not trying to pull you closer, just resting there — warm, casual, intimate.

“Seriously, you’re going to mess me up,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You mess me up every day,” he whispered.

You pulled the next hair extra hard.

“OW—OKAY, I DESERVED THAT.”

⸻

[saltwaterburns]

This was TOOOO good !!!! I was in a constant state of grinning throughout the entirety of this. A perfect mix of playing with each other yet doing it so, so tenderly

will they wont they – dick grayson

synopsis. he had one job. but when it comes to you, dick grayson has never been good at following the rules.

contents. fluff, (implied) exes to lovers, catwoman!reader, batcat dynamic, theyre in love your honor

notes. i wanted a bruce and selina parallel except these two finally give in. this concept has been plaguing my for far too long. everyone thank blair for the idea + part 2

“And under no condition should you flirt with her,” Barbara’s voice crackles through his comms, sharp with warning. “This is a quick intel mission. You’re in and out, Nightwing.”

Dick chuckles. “Got it. Best behavior.”

Word had gotten back to the Batcave that, after Catwoman’s arrest, Catgirl was making moves to finish what her predecessor started. Even worse, there were rumors of Catwoman’s involvement in the riots of Blackgate Penitentiary. Usually, Gotham’s affairs stayed strictly in Bruce’s hands, but Dick had fought hard for this case. Maybe too hard.

“Nightwing,” Oracle’s voice falters as the group watches the hidden camera feed from his suit. “Did you… style your hair?”

Dick freezes mid-motion, his fingers still carding through his dark locks in the reflection of a nearby window.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” He clears his throat, schooling his expression. Jason’s laughter bursts through the comms like a gunshot.

“Oh, this is priceless,” Jason wheezes. “Loverboy's got it bad.”

Dick exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he continues forward. “Can’t believe you guys planted a camera on me. Have you no trust?”

“It’s not about trust, Dick,” Bruce finally speaks, his voice cool and measured. “It’s about intelligence gathering.”

Of course. Ever the pragmatist.

Dick rolls his shoulders, trying to shake the unease creeping in. “Nah. My girl would never do anything to hurt me.” His voice dips. “Nothing I wouldn’t enjoy, anyway.”

Jason groans. “Barf.”

Oracle sighs. “Loverboy, focus.”

Dick lifts his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk lingers, betraying him. “Alright, alright.”

By the time Dick reaches the coordinates he was sent, the abandoned building seemed to be empty. Devoid of any criminal activity that was suspected.

Or at least, that’s how it looks.

Nightwing lands silently on the rooftop, scanning the darkened windows. No movement. No heat signatures. Just the city humming below, a steady pulse against the quiet.

Any amateur would enter the building to start his investigation, but Dick knew you better than that.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

You’re here. Somewhere. Watching.

His lips twitch. “Y’know, most people say hello first.”

Silence. 

A shift in the shadows, a whisper of movement, too fast for anyone else to catch.

He’s airborne for half a second before his back slams against the rooftop. His breath escapes in a sharp huff, and before he can fully register what was happening, a warmth presses close, your weight against him, a knee braced against his ribs, gloved fingers skimming the hollow of his throat. Light. Barely there. A tease, not a threat.

“Thought I’d mix it up,” you murmur.

The moonlight frames you in silver, your mask casting half your face in shadow. He watches the way your lips quirk, the way your breath fans against his jaw, closer than necessary. Closer than you should be.

He should move. Counter. Flip you.

Instead, his fingers curl around your wrist, his thumb ghosting over your pulse point.

Dick blinks up at you, the city lights outlining the curve of your smirk.

“Well,” he breathes, grin unfazed. “You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted.”

You hum, tilting your head. “I’d say sorry, but you walked right into it.”

Your knee eases up just enough for him to shift. It’s all he needs.

With a twist, he sweeps your leg from under you, flipping them. Now you’re the one pinned, but your expression doesn’t change—if anything, your smirk deepens.

“Better,” you muse. “Almost had me there.”

“Almost?” He tuts. “You wound me.”

Then, without hesitation, you hook your leg around his waist and throw your weight into a roll. The two of you tumble, shifting control back and forth, dodging and countering, neither ever fully committing to an actual strike.

It’s a dance. One you both know by heart.

You feint left and he dodges too slow. Your fist brushes his jaw, not a real hit, just enough to make him feel it.

“You’re distracted,” you observe, eyes glinting.

He exhales, grip tightening around your wrist just enough to keep you close. “Maybe I just like having you this close.”

“Always the flatterer.”

For a moment, neither moves. Your breaths mix, city lights reflecting in your masked gaze.

Then, you blow him a kiss, fingers ghost over his lips before twisting free.

A quick, effortless slip, like smoke through his fingers. By the time he blinks, you’re already a few feet away, perched on the edge of the rooftop, ready to make your exit. 

His comm buzzes. Jason’s voice, laced with amusement: “Tell me you’re at least trying to win.”

Dick ignores him.

Instead, his eyes flick toward the shadows. "C’mon, sweetheart, you really want it to end so soon?" He calls, the playful edge to his voice betraying the pulse of something more intense. “I’m starting to have fun.”

“Yeah?” You step into the moonlight, half a step in front of him. “You’re losing, horribly.”

You paused.

“But I’ve always liked how optimistic you were, Grayson. It’s cute.”

He can’t help but smile at the sound of his last name leaving your lips with a casualness that does something to him. He’s heard it from everyone, whether it be taunts or flirty whispers, but from you, it lands differently.

“I’m losing?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his voice, but his heart pounds just a little faster. “I don’t think I feel like a loser.” In fact, he feels more alive than ever, adrenaline coursing through him, sparks erupting with every quip you exchanged. 

You let out a laugh, the sound light and effortless. “I’ve transported all of the artifacts from the Gotham Museum hours before you even got here.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he stays relaxed. He’ll deal with that later. “You know that’s not why I’m here.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “No?”

He steps closer. Slowly. “No,” he repeats, his voice dropping to a softer tone, low enough that it’s just for you.

You watch him, waiting.

He stops when you’re chest to chest, both of you breathing a little heavier now. The proximity is too close. Too much. And yet, neither of you move away.

“Then, what are you here for?”

For a heartbeat, the world slows, and he sees it, something soft in your eyes, hidden behind the mask. Something more than the game you’ve been playing.

“You know,” his voice softens.

But it’s fleeting. Gone before he can fully grasp it, and it hits him harder than he expects.

For a moment, he sees your own eyes underneath the black eye mask softening as they flicker between his own. But it’s gone as soon as it comes and Dick mourns it.

You break the moment first, pulling back just slightly, the warmth of your body still lingering as you glance away. “I’m not… involved with that and you know it,” you say, tone sharp but steady.

You’re not naive. He knows you’ve heard of the rumors circulating about Blackgate and Selina’s growing influence in the prison.

He catches your hand when you try to push him away, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. It’s the same dance they’ve done for years—one step forward, then the pull.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs.

“Obviously not.” Your eyes flash as you look away, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “You don’t trust me.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “You know I do, sweetheart.” His voice softens, and he steps even closer, bringing his other hand to your jaw, his fingers gently guiding your gaze back to his.

“I just needed to confirm.” His breath catches in his chest as he leans in, his lips almost brushing yours. “You know. B and his procedures.”

He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. You’re not backing away, but you’re holding yourself together with that quiet strength of yours.

“Dick,” Oracle warns him through the comm. He can feel Bruce’s silent warning echoing through his mind. He’s overstepped.

But Dick doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about the mission anymore. Not when you’re standing there, eyes locked on his, body close enough that all he can think about is what it would be like to not fight this anymore.

With a quiet resolve, he reaches for his comm, deactivating it, then rips the camera from his suit, crushing it under his foot. The sound of the camera breaking echoes through the silent night, and he watches as surprise flickers in your eyes.

“You’re insane,” you murmur, the disbelief in your voice mixing with relief.

Dick steps even closer, no words now, just the steady thrum of his pulse and the way his body wants to close the distance. “Mission completed anyway,” he mutters, his lips curving into a grin, but it’s softer now.

“As always,” you whisper, your eyes flicking to the shattered camera. There’s a quiet moment where everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge.

Then, without another word, he pulls you in, his lips crashing into yours, soft but insistent. It’s everything he’s wanted, everything you’ve been dancing around for far too long.

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his suit as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The kiss is slow, almost agonizing in its sweetness. No more games, no more hesitating. Just the two of you, finally letting go. His hand rests on the back of your neck, fingers tracing down every curve.

“That,” he says, voice husky, “was a mission well done.”

Your eyes twinkle, and you don’t pull away. “You know you’re never going to hear the end of this, right?”

“Worth it,” he grins. “Every second.”

thank you for reading! reblogs n comments are appreciated :3

[rainydaygotham]

Imagine “borrowing” the left glove of your man’s super suit for a bit while he’s napping and stitching a small band of embroidery thread around the ring finger. The thread is colored only slightly darker than the original color of the fabric. It was so inconspicuous that no one who wasn’t looking for it would notice. In fact, it takes your vigilante fiancé about a week to find it himself.

He has to do a little double take, momentarily forgetting what he was doing in favor of inspecting his hand. It’s not an accidental loose thread or anything, it’s an intentional alteration to his uniform, meant to be there. And it’s very clearly supposed to be a wedding ring, so he knows exactly how it got there. He just doesn’t know when. Oh, hopefully he hasn’t been oblivious to your handiwork for long. The thought of you thinking he knew about it and just didn’t care was agonizing. He cares, baby! He cares so much you wouldn’t believe.

It makes him giddy. You’ve marked him. What an adorable thing to do.

He was planning to get the ring tattooed onto his finger already, so he wouldn’t lose the real one out in his dangerous life of fighting crime. But even that would be under his gloves, invisible to anyone on the streets of the city. This, however, announced it loud and clear: sorry, but this vigilante is taken.

When he makes it back from the mission that night, he finds you lounging in your shared bedroom. You’re too engrossed in whatever you’re doing on your laptop to notice him creeping in yet, so he gets a moment to just admire you. To his delight, he recognizes the fabric that clings to your body as one of his shirts.

You finally realize he’s there, lookin’ like the cat who got the cream,

“Hey Babe, was it a good night?”

“You want to marry me~” he croons.

“We are literally engaged,” you shake your head in fake-exasperation.

“I found your little gift,” he gives you the clue to why he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“Oh,” your smile gets bigger, “that.. I take it you like it?”

He takes your head in his hands, thumbs gently brushing the tops of your cheeks, “it’s perfect,”

He presses a cute little kiss onto your nose. He laughs as you open your eyes and whine about having expected a real kiss. Well, he’ll just have to give you one of those too, then… or maybe a few…

[elvinapandra]

POV : you have been scrolling for the past hour and all you see is SMUT

Please...life is lot more than fucking🙏🏻

[4mrplumi]

02. spiderwocky ── secrets you'd keep

platonic | spiderverse x spiderman!reader x batfamily | ms. list

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdisclaimers on masterlist!

index. prologue , chapter one , chapter two , chapter three ... to be continued. based on this

two days, you hum, two days, you tap your foot impatiently on the floor, two days, the sp//dr bracelet on your wrist feels tight, two days till you go back to school. summer break has always been a buffer in between the year, taking you away from somewhere where you’re comfortable, to someplace that’s just plain awkward. a reminder that you can’t run, spiderman, can’t run.

the suit’s come along beautifully. you don’t have much opportunity or time to really test it out, since gotham’s crackly, ancient buildings would probably crumble under the weight of metal, but it looks nice. 

the suit, yeah. it’s taken up most of your time this break. you’ve not had much time to creep up to your brothers and turn away when they don’t hear you. gotham’s always lonely, but with sp//dr this time, you fit in your skin a bit better. even while it itches and shudders under the pressure of wanting to leap around again.

in preparation, you’ve quarrelled your way into getting permission to use gotham prep’s chemistry lab after school hours, lightly nagging bruce into signing a form for you, one he didn’t really even glance at. you’re trying to figure out how to make stronger web fluid, storing all of sp//dr’s feedback in the back of your head. the past few days, you’ve been leaving the manor at five, telling alfred you’ll be back by six, and sneaking back to the manor at nine, since he doesn’t check. storing the fluid is another thing, figuring out different capsules… ejection systems… it’s boring work.

the bell outside rings, notifying the end of school hours for people who stay back for extra classes. you’ve been meaning to get home earlier today, working up the courage to ask tim or barbara to “help with a school project” and get their notes on your totally hypothetical material that’s 2.62 (+1.00 since you’re experimenting)  times stronger than steel. you’re shoving books you borrowed from the library to disguise yourself as an overeager student while you leave the lab, so focused on what you’re going to say later, you don’t notice bumping into someone head-on.

the guy’s at least two times larger than you, but he stumbles harder than you, reminding you you’re supposed to stumble too. you feign a fall, getting up with a huff- you’re about to apologise when you see the guy’s face twist- angry. you stiffen. spiderman confronts conflict with fight, (name) only knows how to run.

“what the hell?-” he takes a step forward, eyebrows pinched so low his face looks disfigured, hazy-eyed too, “look where you’re going bitch!”. you cringe a little, “… i’m sorry?” he fumes even more, this guy’s got some serious issues up there. his coarse hands come up to shove you, but you don’t fall back, before remembering that you probably should. forcefully, your head hits the side of the door, and you hiss in irritation.

you haul yourself aside, and he trips on his feet, falling with a frustrated yelp. it’s best you leave, (name)’s great at running away. the corridor isn't very long, holding onto the straps of your bag, sp//dr hums on your wrist as you hurry down the stairs. “gotham is so unique,” she notes, “odd folk everywhere.” you squint, “doesn’t make gotham very unique if odd people are everywhere though, does it?”

“don’t tell me what to do- all you washed up... washed up nerds think you’re so bloody better than the rest of us-” what the hell is this guy talking about? is he drunk? doesn’t seem outta place for a teenager to be drunk in gotham. and nerd? he should aim lower, hit harder, think brighter- you interrupt him, and your flurry of thoyghts, scuttling over your sentence- “i- uh, i don’t go here.”

the world slows down, and you see his fist come up, aimed at your face. sp//dr tuts; unappreciative, like an aged aunty.

if she could smile, maybe she would’ve, you hear it in her voice. “perhaps, i wouldn’t say we’re not too odd either.” the hurt on your head starts to ebb out, your healing factor’s been developing slowly.

two pairs of masked eyes narrow outside a small window, peering in at you in the stairwell, in a sync that could be described as unnatural. odd. you miss them when you duck your head, and they scatter by the time you’re up again.

“i don’t want to alarm you,” sp//dr says, through what would’ve been gritted teeth… if she wasn’t, you know, toothless, “but those two fellows over there, have been following us for a while.” you know they have, glancing shortly at them, and you think they know you know too.

the ride to the train station was quiet, you spent most of it looking outside, willing yourself to blink manually. alfred dropped you, since despite your low involvement with the wayne family, bruce was still paranoid of any potential harm. 

hey, you think a little brightly, at least he bothered. 

break’s over, thank goodness, and your suit’s been sent back to gotham entirely disassembled, disguising itself as a robotics project (at least, that’s what you told alfred when you went out to mail it back to queens). you’d set your head against the window, and your head vibrated, rapping against the glass. 

…

alfred drove off after a few pleasantries, a gentle “safe travels”, and a nod in your direction. you might miss him, keyword: might, and check the time and the car drives off. eleven forty-three, you have half an hour before the train comes by. 

sp//dr notices your silence, and hums against your wrist, made into a bracelet. “get something to eat, (name);” she’d said, “missed breakfast in your rush.” you’d made a noise of acknowledgement, rattling your suitcase so that the wheels get unstuck from the crevices in the pebbled-stone. 

a sandwich maybe? you’re not hungry actually, haven’t had much time to do anything that would really make you hungry. the place’s littered with people, people, and more people. it’s only a few minutes into looking around that your senses start to bubble, and a familiar instinct of anxiety buzzes. 

two men, one dressed like a cowboy and the other in flashy cloth, fairly normal but… you look around, a little out of place. no one else seems to notice them there, and you’re a little unsettled, turning your back to them and sprinting to a small stall, paying quickly for a sandwich you don’t actually have time to eat. 

“hey kid,” a voice speaks out, heavy on the accent, a hand on your shoulder. you whip around, “was hoping to catch a word.” it’s the cowboy, and you’ve gone stiff, stammering nervously. “um…

do.. do i know you?” the man smiles, but your sense isn’t going off… okay, (name), you inhale, just relax, listen, and get the hell out. you literally have a train to catch!

“you wouldn’t, but you should,” you tilt your head. the man sticks out a hand “patrick o’hara, and this is…” he gestures at the other man, “my, err, colleague, cooper coen.”

you tap your foot against the floor, “um. and?” the other guy; cooper, smiles, probably finding your bluntness funny. “we’ll cut to the chase, (name)”, he knows your name. they know your name, why do they know your name? “we know you’re spiderman.”

your ears start to buzz, sp//dr feels tight on your wrist.

patrick scratches his goatee, following up awkwardly, “errr… well, this world’s spiderman, he means.” you hope you’re not too rude, in the way you’re staring, and the hissed string of swears that follow.

“multiple spidermans and multiple worlds…” you inhale slowly, taking a sip from the soda cooper bought for the three of you, “how does that work?”

the three of you sit on a rickety bench, twenty minutes before your train’s here. “now can’t go into the specifics, kid” patrick grumbles, “all some technic gibberish that’d be better off from the horse's mouth.” you try not to sound dumb, “... your horse?” 

he barks out a laugh, startling sp//dr, who’s revealed her spindly form and sits on your lap behind your soda glass. “no, no, from the boss, yeah? you’ll meet him when we get there.”

cooper looks at you pointedly, “and we will get there. there’ll be arrangements made for your school and…” he hesitates, you squint, he squints, patrick coughs, “your family? anyway, we’ve given you the basics- you got them, right? just don’t go around- you know, freaking out.” 

patrick hums, the sound like a low tractor engine, “yeah, we’ve got another nutcase to-be-fixed, work’s tough all around.”

“i’m not a nutcase,” they hear you grumble under your breath, “i won’t freak out.” patrick claps a hand on your shoulder, his soda untouched, “never said so, kid.”

there’s a click of electricity, and the two of them look down at orange watches clasped on their wrists in sync. cooper said something about it being “communication tech” but you didn’t get to ask as many questions as you’d like. it’s difficult for you to infer the hologram that shoots up from it (and sp//dr’s too obviously intrigued), but they stand up with overlapping mutters.

“well,” cooper motions his head towards a slightly more secluded, hidden area, “you coming, kid?”

you hesitate. “how do i know this isn’t some kind of trick? doesn’t sound very real.” patrick o’hara pulls a piece of red cloth over his face, two white parallelograms for eyes on it; looks a little like the visors on your suit. “don’t really have a reason to be tricking the newbie-spider do we, cooper?”

“we don’t,” the other drawls, turning away from the two of you, “besides it’ll be good for you too.” 

“good how?”

patrick looks a little uncomfortable, cooper’s face is turned away. 

“don’t stress over it, you’ll see soon enough.”

sp//dr tuts, expanding over into a bracelet on your wrist. she wants to say something, and you want to hear. but these… two, are making it hard. she won’t speak in front of them. you really wish she would.

dear mr. davis,

as a new academic year for midtown school of science and technology approaches, we write to you in regards of a student in your junior year, (name) parker-wayne, who will unfortunately be unable to attend for the academic first term. 

due to their volunteering in our special research and development programme this summer, we request you excuse their absence until ##-##-####. we here at the society understand that the projects at our establishment will take time from (name)’s academics and their education at your school, and would like to assure you that we have kept such formal anomalies in line. 

attached are signed documents, confirming parker-wayne’s acceptance into our course, permissions from their legal guardians and our project leader, and a form for your establishment to confirm parker-wayne’s excused leave.

regards,

margo kess,

department of physics and astrophysics,

the o'hara science and technology society.

“does (name) wayne have physics?”

“parker-wayne, mr. davis, and beats me.”

₊˚⊹ a/n : finally got #there.. now excuse my bs naming system ok and i'll fix the spacing on the sign off on my laptop tmr!! i have a solid motion on for this fic but lmk if there's anything you'd find interesting in this setting. thank you for all the support, i love this series, and i'll have a new update... soonish? my exams are coming up so probs not very soon 😥

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[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bruce Wayne fucked his partners through the mattress—and it depended on who and why. If you know he’s Batman, then he’d fuck for stress relief, to uncoil the sickening knot in his belly. However, if you’re unaware of his nighttime activities and believe you’d just lucked up meeting Bruce Wayne, then he’d fuck for ego. He’s got a point to prove: all those years as a recluse hadn’t dulled his ability to grant a lady a good time; that the stories of his youthful adventures are true. (Though his ego bleeds over into Batman as well since he wonders if he’s too old to still be the Dark Knight. If he’s lost his edge).

Bruce’s stamina is insane. He’d have you spread on your belly while he drove his cock into you. One hand enclosed around your throat, the other encircling your waist, and his lips grazing over your ear. Warm gusts of air caressing your cheek with each huff and grunt. The faint scent of his cologne lingering within the atmosphere, though it had been toppled by the aroma of sweat and sex. “Fuck,” he gritted out,” so tight f’me, doll. Only for me. Mine, aren’t you?” There was pride in being the one to undo Bruce Wayne, to make him cuss and grunt like a caveman, to draw out his Gotham accent. He was usually so put-together and driven.

Time warped and melted whenever Bruce had you beneath him. Despite his age, (don’t let him hear that) he could fuck for hours, content to drive his cum back into your hole until he came again. In fact, he enjoyed the slickness. There was something about keeping you beneath him that soothed the territorial monster caged within him like Mr. Hyde. Rarely could you lure the possessive, emerald eyed, envious beast out; Bruce was old and had dealt with his fair share of women seeking an emotional response. But with the perfect concoction of circumstances could you shatter the manacles binding the dominating, jealous, spiteful side of him—and it was wonderful.

Dick Grayson (Dixon’s version) preferred to let his lover work for it. There was a tantalizing element to gazing at his partner while she straddled him, and attempted to sink down into his cock. Dick wasn’t girth-y like Jason or Bruce (nor as unshaven). No, Dick was slim and long—and pretty. Dick was shaven and trimmed, smooth and hairless if he could help it. He never liked to offer up unshaven goods; he thought it was rude.

“God, you. . . you ride like a pro,” he breathed out, nigh gasping as though he’d run a race beside Usain Bolt. A sheen of sweated coated his toned physique, and a scarlet blush left a fiery trail from his cheeks down to his neck. “Don’t stop till I say.” Dick is more selfish in bed than Jason. Unlike Jason, Dick knows he’s cute—pretty, even. He’s confident both in himself and his ability to be selfish and still make you cum. . . hard. He won’t hesitate to assume control if he’s not liking your rhythm, or if he just wants to be a little shit and knock your orgasm off kilter. “Oh, were you going to cum? Sorry. Didn’t notice.”

Speaking of orgasms, Dick cums beautifully, even when he’d rather be described as ‘’manly’’ and handsome. He couldn’t restrain the tremble of his muscular thighs, or quell the furnace roaring inside his belly, or freeze the stars bursting behind the paleness of his eyelids. “I know, pretty baby. I know. Tight, aren’t I? Let it out for me,” you cooed, caressing his sweat-slick, inky black curls. Dick nodded quick and desperately, coal black lashes falling over his oceanic eyes. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. Gonna cum again. Just keep going.” The power he’d stolen returned with a vengeance. He’d gone limp beneath you. Fucked out, his breaths tremulous and stuttered. Naturally, Dick’s palms found purchase upon your breasts, pinching and flicking your nipples before he exerted the last of his strength to lean forward and suckle one into his mouth.

(There’s hints of a mommy kink if you squint hard enough).

Jason Todd loved to see his partner deep-throat his cock. It’s a personal pleasure of his, the one time he allows himself to be selfish during sex. He’s not sure why it’s fascinating to him. Perhaps the sheer primality of watching you struggle to swallow his thickness intrigues him, excites him, causes the hairs on his forearms to stand at attention and the nerves within his body to buzz like a million bees trapped beneath his skin.“That’s right, baby, keep going. Till I see tears,” he murmured, as his large hands slithered up into your nape and tightened in your hair.” Show me how much you love me, baby.”

“What a beauty.” Jason’s chocolate smeared irises tipped backward, his slender hips bucking upward into the warm cavern of your throat, his cock spewing viscous ropes of pearlescent cum. Jason’s frame fell slack against the sofa. Sated. Only you could loosen the tautness in his shoulders like a ball of yarn. Boy, did he adore you.” I hope you can go all night. Cuz I got some steam I been needin’ t’ blow off.”

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A TURKISH!READER ── .✦ ( written already in the title ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: this is requested by amazing @natsbloggg and enjoy you guys and please tell me if got anything wrong and also this is so funny because I’m going to to turkey in 2 months and then after my trip I need to move again if you didn’t know I just moved so yeah if I don’t post much that’s why my life is getting busy soon 🥲 tags: (batboys x Turkish!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Tries so hard to learn Turkish. His pronunciation is tragic at first, but he gets better.

“Günaydın, aşkım!” (sounds like: goon-eye-denn...ash-come?)

Absolutely obsessed with Turkish breakfast. He will wake you up just to set it up together.

“Wait, we get cheese AND olives AND honey? Every morning?? This is heaven.”

He wants to learn all the dances at weddings and ends up being the overly enthusiastic foreigner who somehow becomes the crowd favorite.

You catch him watching Turkish dramas and crying like it’s a sport.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Knows a few key words: “aşkım,” “hayır,” “çay,” and “ne?”

But also knows how to curse in Turkish and uses it with impressive accuracy.

Pretends to grumble when your family insists he eat more, but he secretly loves the home-cooked Turkish food.

He even tries to learn your grandma’s recipes. "Teach me how to make dolma or I’ll riot."

Super protective of you and lowkey fascinated by your history and culture he’ll stay up reading about the Ottoman Empire and then drop facts out of nowhere.

Brings Turkish delight ( is a proper gift there? ) as a gift when visiting your family, trying to win everyone over.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Has a whole Google Doc of Turkish phrases and cultural notes he’s compiled.

“So I shouldn’t use ‘tamam’ sarcastically, got it.”

He’s blown away by your language’s structure and will 100% ask you to explain agglutinative verbs.

(If your Muslim) Tries to fast with you during Ramadan even though he’s not built for it. He faints by iftar and you’re like, “Babe… it’s only day two.”

Gets deeply invested in Turkish poetry and tries to quote Rumi or Nazım Hikmet to impress you.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Starts learning Turkish just to communicate better with your family, even if they speak English he sees it as a matter of respect.

When someone in the League insults your culture, he goes full wrath mode. “Say one more thing about Türkiye. I dare you.”

Secretly loves the music, especially traditional Turkish instruments like the bağlama don’t be surprised if he’s trying to learn it.

Stubbornly insists on doing things your cultural way during holidays.

“We are having Şeker Bayramı with the proper sweets, and that’s final.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Fluent in Turkish within six months. You’re not even surprised.

Will absolutely fund Turkish cultural projects, books, or charities if it’s something you care about.

Quietly joins your family’s traditions with full respect and zero complaints.

“Of course, I brought lokum. And yes, I removed my shoes.”

If you’re homesick, he arranges Turkish radio/music playlists, gets Turkish groceries imported, and turns the manor into a little piece of home.

[killerplink]

You, very pouty and dramatic: If you don't want me in your lap, just say so.

Dick, confused as shit: Love, I never said that—

You, smacking your lips: Then I shall remain. Like a very sexy goblin.

Dick, blinking slowly: A... goblin?

You, nodding matter of factly: A goblin with a fat ass.

Dick, completely gone: God, I love you so fucking much.

You, all giggly: As you should, baby.

[0107nw]

⇒ soulmate!dick grayson x cat girl!reader

summary: short drabble (soon to be written fic) in which your shared soul mark is the inability to lie to one another. lots of teasing ensues!

genre: soulmate!au, “rivals” to lovers

warnings: none for the drabble!

a/n: did i abandon my haikyuu blog for dc? yeah…. yeah 😞😞😞

currently unedited || masterlist

you’d been by catwoman’s side for years now, starting from when you were just ten years old. like the dynamic duo of gotham, selina had taken you under her supervision, minus your family dying in a tragic circus accident of course.

your first meeting with batman’s boy wonder was quite eventful, a game of cat and mouse - or a cat toying with a bird. you took great pleasure in out pacing robin as he tried to catch you.

As kids you two were honest with each other, through the back and forth’s or the rare occasions when your mentors would work together - thus forcing you two to work together.

uttering a lie to one another would never have even crossed your minds, what better way to voice your disdain than by voicing it to the person causing such strong negative emotions?

unfortunately for the two of you, that honesty did not could not stop in your adulthood.

now no longer “robin” or “catgirl”, the two of you have adopted your own personas, no matter how close or distant it was from your titles as sidekicks.

kitty was the name you settled for, seeing as selina refused to step down as catwoman, and your genius younger self decided she was too grown to be catgirl during her teenage years, you were now stuck with something more or less the same.

and dick grayson - nightwing, was loving it.

it was supposed to be a quick swipe, get into the gallery, grab a few of the paintings stored away in the back and get out. of course, the ever so righteous nightwing couldn’t allow that to happen.

“here kitty-kitty, why don’t you drop the paintings and indulge in a little treat?” he’d tease, a smirk present on his face, a grimace present on yours.

“i’d love to, but this kitty’s a little busy.”

you furrowed your brows as you registered your own response.

… of course he’d use your silly soulmate mark against you.

“cute, are you gonna keep being honest with me, or are you just feeling nice?”

you push past him, hands tightly grasping the duffle bag filled with small pieces, you didn’t get why he would be so eager to bust you for something so trivial - you’d been transparent about what would happen to the paintings anyways.

your time as a petty criminal was long over, ever since selina had taken you in, and you’d formed a deep appreciation for the arts over the years. the prints you stole would always be donated to spaces you knew would love and appreciate the art given to them. unless of course, you were covering for selina.

kind of like the art worlds own robin hood - though nightwing would disagree with that.

“come on, pretty. y’know i’m just teasing -”

“don’t you have actual criminals to stop, or am i just lucky.” your sarcasm was enough to gain a small chuckle from him, he began following you as you made your way back out of the building.

dick sped up his pace, manoeuvring his body so that he’d be in front of you now. hands moving to grasp your shoulders and stop your own movement, you rolled your eyes puffing up your cheeks in annoyance as he fumbled your plans. again.

with a coo, dick grabbed your chin, pulling you closer to leave a peck on them as you continued to pout. “awh, is my cute little soulmate sad she can’t steal a few paintings?”

“yes. and she’s also annoyed that her annoying boyfriend keeps using their soulmate bond against her. stop asking me questions! i need to get these to selina.”

“i’m sure bruce can keep her busy a little longer, gimme those paintings, i’ll leave them in the back, and you and i can spend the rest of the night cuddled up at my place.”

you rolled your eyes at him, nudging his hands off of your shoulders and continuing to the rooftop. behind you, you heard his own signal of annoyance. you smirked at his huff.

he once again moved himself to block your path, you dropped your smirk and looked up at him with a judgemental glare.

“why is it that batman let’s selina get away with stealing, but the second she gets me to do her dirty work, im getting chased down by gotham’s resident goody two shoes?”

“because selina’s his fiance and has him wrapped around her finger, and you’re my girlfriend, double standards i know - but everyone’s a critic.” he shrugged, before grabbing at the bag in your hands. giving your nose a quick boop before turning to make his way back into the building.

“hey- give that back! and are you suggesting that you’re not as whipped for me as bruce is for selina? i thought we were meant to be soulmates.”

“of course i’m as pathetically desperate as he is, whenever im around you i feel like a wet dog whining for attention. do you know how much self control it’s taking to grab this bag off of you?”

you hummed, satisfied with his answer - and the use of the soulmate bond to get said answer out of him. you swayed your hips as you walked up to him, pressing a palm to his chest while the other dragged down his arm.

you could hear his breath hitch, almost hear him purr as you plucked the bag from his hands, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“then i’m sure bats will understand why you couldn’t get the bag back, hm?” you stepped away from him, a grin in place of the smug expression you had moments ago. “i’ll see you at home, love you!”

you jumped off the roof, making your way back to selina with the goods secured.

“hey uh… bruce?”

he heard his mentor sigh on the other end of the comms. bruce knew all too well the struggles of being bonded to the cats of gotham.

[mostly-imagines]

Doghouse

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka dick’s in trouble…

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied smut, discussion of sex

“Baby…”

You don’t look up from your book as you hum, “Hm?”

“You’re being mean,” he pouts from the end of the couch.

You purse your lips. “If I am, you deserve it.”

His head lulls backwards pathetically, “I don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

You ignore him, scanning over the words littering the page with little thought.

He takes your lack of response as an invitation to climb up the couch a bit, just close enough that he can nibble kisses at your neck.

“Come on, I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

You roll your eyes, flipping to the next page in your book as his hands feel up your waist. He’s apologized a few times already, but you’re not ready to let it go. He’d bailed last minute on your date nights one too many times and you’ve had enough. So if no sex is the only thing that seems to get his attention, no sex it is. You’re not mad, not really, but if you can give him a taste of the neglect you’ve been feeling, well…

He continues despite the lack of acknowledgement, pestering on. “This is deprivation of nourishment.”

All in all, he’s really not putting up his best argument. He could be doing better work, much better work, and you’re certainly not going to let him off so easily.

“I don’t care.” You move the book you’re not really reading up higher, removing him from your line of sight.

Sensing the challenge, he takes the book from your hands, tossing it blindly out of reach. It lands with an unflattering thump on the hardwood. You gawk at him, but he doesn’t notice, too busy minding his own motivating force.

He pulls you further down the couch, so he’s face level with your stomach. The top of his hair tickles you as he kisses below your navel, hands holding you in place firmly by your waist.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your skin, dragging his lips over. “Please, please let me eat you out.”

You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at the wall.

He rests his chin gently over your stomach, peering up at you with puppy dog eyes. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

This pushes him to borderline pouting, huffing, “Come on, you’re not having any fun like this either.”

Yeah, but it’s more torturous for him than it is for you.

His lips edge at the seam of your underwear, and his fingers hook under the elastic as he looks up at you expectantly.

You take a deep breath upon the sight, steeling yourself.

“No.”

He lets out an honest to God groan and drops his forehead against your stomach, whining.

You push him off of you, though he does most of the work of shifting his weight for you. You stand up from the couch and retrieve your book from its place on the floor, flipping through it to refind your page as you move for the bedroom door.

“You’re gonna leave me like this?” he calls out at you, watching you leave.

You shrug, “Take care of it yourself.”

“Myself?” He gapes, like he’s shocked at the audacity of the suggestion.

He stands up quickly, scrambling after you into your room.

He watches as you plop down onto the bed, pretending like you’ve got the concentration to keep on reading.

He pouts in the doorway, both surprised and annoyed with your commitment to making him suffer.

At this point he can take care of you better than he can take care of himself, and God knows he prefers to. So it’s bordering on inconceivable that you could have gotten so mad at him as to take away his privileges to do his very favorite thing in the world.

So he snatches your book straight from your hands again—just as you’d found the right page, too—and holds it up high.

“Dick Grayson!”

You swat at him and try to grab it back, but he’s too quick and too tall.

You kneel on the bed, reaching up in a fruitless effort before you drop your arm at your side, glaring.

He raises his chin, silently imploring you.

“Talk to me.”

You roll your eyes, “I am talking to you. I’m not sleeping with you—”

He shakes his head, “No, you’re still mad.”

“And you think this is what’s gonna help?”

He throws his head back. “You’re killing me,” he whines.

“Good.”

“What’s the plan here? Neither of us get to come ever again?”

You all but throw your head back, “I think it’s pretty fucking bold of you to assume that I rely exclusively on you to come.”

He levels you with a look.

“You do though.”

You gape at him. He says it with such self-assurance, so matter-of-fact that it’s not even a joke. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right you do, but you are nowhere near ready to give him the satisfaction.

So, you did something that you knew would piss him off.

“I—” you pause. “Fine.”

You dip your hand underneath your waistband, prepared to prove your fucking point.

“Don’t—” he bats your hand away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He gawks at you, keeping an arm between your hand and your body. “That’s my job.”

You push his arm, with minimal real effort. “It’s my body!”

“You really don’t want me to touch you? Really?”

He levels you with that look he knows you can’t rebound from, giving you no room to squirm away.

Your chin lowers out of pure habit and your mouth shuts. He takes the opportunity to drop the book on the bed, scooping up both your wrists in one go. He pulls them up above your head and holds you against the bedroom wall.

“What can I do?” he asks lowly, face only inches from yours.

You glare at him, not trying to escape his hold.

“You can fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows as to say, ‘yeah, I am too, buddy.’

“I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me have my girl.”

You tug your hands out of his grasp, and he lets you without complaint.

You huff, looking at him.

“You have to take me out on a date tom—a real date—tomorrow night, the whole night, flowers and everything.”

He’s nodding along with your words eagerly, terms he couldn’t be happier to agree to.

“Even if some vigilante shit comes up—”

“Of course, of course.”

“…and do what you said before,” you say, quieter.

“What did I say before?” he asks, like he truly can’t remember.

“Dick,” you warn.

He smiles, perfectly content to let you off easy.

He leans forward, kissing you deeply but with an air of sweetness.

“I’m sorry I missed our date, pretty girl. I’m so sorry.”

Your shoulders noticeably relax and you take a deep breath, nodding.

“Yeah,” he says as he kneels down on the ground. He grins up at you as he hooks your leg over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of my baby, of course I will.”

☀️ i’m worried the sun will go out soon if you don’t start reblogging fics ☀️

[lavilavs]

୨୧ ── Mask of the man you loved

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader x Jason Todd

Scenario: What was supposed to be a peaceful family dinner turns into a place where the past resurfaces. Dick wanted you to move on, but not with his brother. Why do you look at Jason with the same eyes? Do you truly love him, or is it him that you still see in front of you?

Notes: English is not my first language. + Reblogs and likes are appreciated! + Extra scene would foreshadow part 2

Should he blame himself for choosing his career more than you?

He was on his journey to find himself. He went away to find security in himself. The life of Robin just wasn't working out for him. Dick is an ambitious man—he wants to make a name for himself, and you supported that.

There was nothing more fulfilling in your heart than to see Dick happy with himself. You'll disregard any moments of loneliness here in Gotham if it means that Dick was thriving. Besides, you had your own life to worry about. Leaving Gotham University just to be with him would be stupid. Dick also agreed with that idea.

Dick thought you understood him better than anyone. He thought that distance wouldn't be a problem with you as long as you loved him and he loved you. Of course Dick would take your words to heart. You weren't the type to say something meaningless.

"I understand you, babe. I do. I'll be okay here."

That's what you said. Dick trusts you to uphold your words. 

However, the issue wasn't you or your words. You'd never lie to him. He shouldn't even be wondering how it went downhill. He knows what he did. Albeit unintentionally. 

You saved money to plan a trip to surprise him. It was all perfectly budgeted to suit your travelling expenses, food, and other stuff you might see on your date. You happily knocked on his door, expecting to see his cute shocked expression as you tackled him down to the ground, pampering his face with kisses.

When the door swung open, it fucking broke your heart to see a woman bigger than you open the door to his apartment in Bludhaven. You wouldn't have minded—you would've brushed it off as his friend. But would a friend in only panties, a tank top, and your boyfriend's jacket make you think they're just friends?

She had a body akin to a model's. The kind that would make you stare in envy. Her body was the body both men and women dream of—just in different ways. She asks who you were in a sweet tone. Does she not know you? Well, obviously, but if she were a friend, Dick would've—no, you wanted Dick to have shown her your pictures together.

A lot of words are stuck in your throat. You can't even find the energy to get mad at the woman in front of you. She looked as confused as you were. You wanted to be mad. Not at her, not at yourself—but at Dick. Was he cheating?

Both of your heads perk at the sound of a door opening behind her. The shower running in the background caught your attention. She moves a bit to the side, allowing you to see behind her. From there, Dick emerged from the door. Water dripping down his skin with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Kory, who's at the door?" You would've loved to hear his voice this close again if it weren't for the situation at hand. The question sounded wrong. It should've asked who this woman is in front of you, dressed like this. 

Without a concrete answer to say, Kory completely left the door and went to his side to give Dick a clearer view of your figure, who stood shocked and disappointed at him.

He felt his heart drop. His breath hitched in terror. The gravity of the situation had dawned on him. You weren't supposed to see any of this. Dick wasn't cheating on you. He swears to God.

"This isn't what it looks like, Babe." His voice cracks.

"That's what they all say." Your heart breaks.

You were too fast for your own good, too hurt to listen to his shouts and begs in an attempt to stop you and talk about everything. And it wasn't like Dick could run to you; he's almost naked for God's sake. All he could do was yell at your running figure that slowly turned smaller and smaller until you were gone from his sight.

Dick dreads the thought of you crying on your way back to Gotham. It frustrates him so much that he can't stomach the thought of being around Kory now. But he can't kick Kory out of his home. Where would she stay? The only option was to lock himself in his room.

It's been hours since he buried himself in his bed; the scent of the Tamaranean princess fills his nostrils, caging itself in this space. He forgot he let Kory use his room. Being the gentleman he is, he couldn't let her sleep on the couch or floor. It haunts him this way. It petrifies him to remember that look on your face. 

His phone lights the dim room, the sound lures him to scramble upwards to see who it was. You appear in his thoughts. He just wants to fix everything. A sob escapes his lips when he sees your name.

We need to talk.

Dick quickly dialed your number. When the line clicked, he wasted no time to explain himself.

"Babe, I'm sorry, please. Let me explain."

You heard how tired his voice is. It tugs on your heart just thinking of how he looked behind the phone. However, you've already made your decision. The words that fall out of his mouth fall on deaf ears. 

"I want to end this, Dick."

Anything but that. The scenario he dreaded the most has come to life. 

"But why? Babe, I didn't cheat!" He grows desperate. "Trust me, please. She's an alien, babe. What could she know about proper attire? Nothing happened." That ticks you off.

"Yeah, what could she know, Dick? Then what are you? Why didn't you tell her about it?" He hears anger in your voice. "It's not the fact that nothing happened. If you had at least any amount of decency in your body—alien or not, she looks and is a woman! A woman in fucking panties and your jacket, Dick!" He stays silent.

"You're a man with a girlfriend. You're a man who has me. Even if I'm not there, I'd expect you to not have a woman in your house prancing around looking like that. Because at the end, you're a man, and she's a woman, Dick. Tell me how you think that makes me feel?" His heart breaks a little more when he hears your sob at the end, trying your best to sound coherent.

"The fact that you weren't even fazed by what she looked like until you saw me makes me think that it's normalized in your apartment. Just how many times did you see her looking like that to make you think it's okay to have that in your house when you have me?"

He tries to talk, but you always cut in. "Just admit you liked having her like that." The silence after gnaws at both of you. Dick can't find the words to talk back. He can't defend himself because maybe he did. 

It was only an accusation. It was only your insecurity talking. And it was his silence that proved your accusations right. If Dick didn't think like that, he would have interjected as fast as he could. Assure you that he didn't and it was just out of cultural differences that he let her be.

"You're right. Nothing happened. But don't pretend you haven't thought about it at least once." Your words hit him right in the heart. He didn't cheat, but the thought was there. No matter how small or how long ago, he thought of it.

"I'm sorry." 

That's all he could say, and that fucking hurts you more than him not apologizing. It basically meant he's guilty.

"God..." you sobbed. "You have me, Dick. You had me. Why was I even your girlfriend if I wasn't enough for you?" The call ends. 

You didn't want to hear him crying. You also didn't want to let him hear yours. Those years of building each other up. All gone within a second and a single phone call.

Those words still haunt Dick. After 3 years, you're still stuck in his mind. Now you're physically haunting him by showing up here at his family dinner hand-in-hand with his brother, Jason Todd. He wasn't aware that your friendship had upgraded into this.

Dick looks around the table—nobody was as fazed as him at this. Tim and Damian had their sights on the food before them, not bothering to look up when they knew Dick was searching for an answer. So they all knew you were Jason's girlfriend and didn't tell him? It wasn't like he kept you a secret from them. In fact, Dick didn't miss a day showing you off.

And Jason—he knew how much he loved her. He was your friend before you met and fell in love with Dick, so how? You used to assure him that he was nothing more back when you were just a new couple. The bond you had with Jason was naturally much stronger than their relationship at the time.

Hell, why is Dick even making an issue out of this? He has no right to question whom you date now, not even when the said date is his younger brother. It's frustrating that he knows his place. He wishes that he didn't. It's just... disrespect in plain sight. Dick dated you. Would you date your brother's ex?

His eyes are on you as you walk towards Bruce. A big smile on your face with Jason following close behind you. Like muscle memory, Bruce lifts his hand at the sight of you approaching. You take his hand in yours and lift it towards your forehead as a sign of respect. 

Dick's hand tightens under the table. Back then, he was in Jason's place as you gave your respect to their father like you did right now. For a second your eyes stole a glance his way. He didn't miss it. With the way his gaze was locked on you, it would be impossible.

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when the eye contact didn't last as Jason escorted you down to your respective seats. When Alfred left the dining room with a bow, it marked the start of the family dinner where hell would be set loose with one wrong question.

The chatter first started with you and Jason, with him asking you what you'd like. He watches his brother attentively fulfill your requests, like he once did. Everything you're doing—you've already done it with him. It was supposed to make him feel better, to know that he did that with you first. But the thought of never doing it again dawns on him.

The family dinner was going smoothly. Tim and Damian were asking how you were with medical school, Jason was taking care of your needs, and Bruce was feeling content that they were a complete family today. And there was Dick—awfully silent as the appetizer by his plate stays untouched.

Bruce calls your name, gaining everyone's attention. "You're about to receive your diploma, aren't you, sweetheart?" Their heads all turn towards you, even his. "Yes, Father. I'm getting it in a week."

Dick felt proud. You were graduating already? Time has passed by so quickly. It was also one of the reasons why you couldn't leave Gotham. Dick wouldn't forgive himself if you stopped studying just to go with him. There wasn't any school better than the one here in Gotham after all. Transferring to Bludhaven was out of the option.

"I see. Congrats, dear. Just tell me exactly when, and I'll give the executives at the hospital a recommendation paper." Your eyes widened at Bruce's words, cheeks heating up in embarrasment. 

"Ah, no need, Father. That's too much. Besides, how can I prove myself worthy if you make it easy for me to get accepted?" 

Jason laughs at you. "Worthy? Have you seen your grades? I'd look so dumb next to you, miss Valedictorian." You roll your eyes and push Jason's teasing face away from you. The shame doubles when the two other brothers clap in amazement.

"Congratulations, Big sister." Damian smiles at you.

"Congrats. You don't have to use me as your beta-reader for your thesis anymore." Tim jokes. 

Ah, you felt so loved by the brothers. "Thank yo—"

"Congratulations." Dick's voice cut through yours abruptly. The cheery atmosphere reverted back to the obvious tension in the air. The table went silent. Jason's eyes looked at yours, narrowing sadly at the way your eyes was scrambling from one place to another to prevent tears from forming.

"Thank you, Dick." You hesitated to say his name but it slipped out anyways.

It should've ended at that but it didn't sit right with Dick. What he's about to do is wrong. His conscience wasn't strong enough to stop him. 

He grabs ahold of the wine bottle and poured himself a drink. He shot one, then another, and another, and another—Dick almost finished the whole bottle by now.

You all stared as he pours the last drop of wine into his glass. Jason's hand tangled yours with his beneath the table, caressing the back of your own with his thumb. He knows you're feeling anxious at Dick's behavior. 

Dick stands up, looking flushed. He isn't used to drinking that many in a few minutes.

"I would like to make a toast to the most beautiful, talented, smart woman here." He tilts the glass your way. Bruce frowns at the situation, sending Tim a look to apprehend his brother at once. He does not want family drama on the table right now.

"Congratulations on graduating from that forsaken academy. Now, you're gonna be a full-pledged doctor just like you promised me." He points at himself, smiling like an idiot. "You used to get mad at me for saying I should be your first official patient. Am I not allowed to claim that spot now that Jason is here?" 

"Dick, that's enough—" Tim tries to make him sit down, but gets shoved away easily.

"And cheers to the new couple!" Dick walks closer with Tim desperately trying to stop him. Damian sighs and stood near you as a precaution. 

He glared at Jason, it falters when it landed on you. "I didn't think of you as a lowly brother who would dare date his brother's—" Jason stood up from his chair, gripping Dick's collar tightly.

Before things could get even more out of hand, the sound of Bruce's fist hitting the table had your heads turning his way. His face looked unpaintable with displeasure. "Don't do this at my table. If you want to kill each other—go ahead!" 

Dick lowered his head in shame, senses coming back from Bruce's outburst. He flicks Jason's arms away from him and left the room without another word. Damian and Tim went back to their chairs, head hung low as to not attract attention to themselves.

Jason looked at your alarmed face, "Don't worry. It's not your fault." he wraps his arm around your head, pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. The small rubs on your shoulder eases your anxiety. If you had known Dick would be back in Gotham, you wouldn't have come here.

The solemn look on their faces tell a lot. Your presence alone brought discomfort knowing your past with Dick. Jason's voice magnetized you into looking at him. His eyes were full of warmth and affection. He's so loving that it sickens you.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'll have Roy drive you, I just need to do something here in the Manor, okay?" You nod in response.

The breeze that the night brought, felt colder than the Manor when you stepped outside. Roy was already waiting by the gate, smiling and waving at both of you. Jason softly pulled you closer, wrapping himself around you. You could feel his heart race for you. He reluctantly pulls away and bends down to your height.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'll see you tomorrow?" He bids you a small smile, patting your head while he's at it. "It's okay... Goodnight, Jay." You peck beside his lips and mirrored the smile on his face.

He watches you walk towards Roy with a smile. You wouldn't even think he was thinking of beating Dick up right now. He's full of rage, but not now. He can wait until you've left. Jason promised you after all. No fights and no violence while you're around. If Bruce didn't shout, he would've been blinded with anger.

As soon as the car left the manor, the smile was wiped away from his face. His feet walked on its own but he knew where he was going.

"Dick! You son of a bitch!" Almost immediately, Jason stormed inside Dick's room. The latter swiftly guarded himself from the incoming punch. He grunts as he tangles their arms together to stop Jason from striking.

"Dating her not enough for you? You still want to fight?" Dick mocks, breaking free from his own hold to push Jason away from him.

"That's funny coming from you. I wasn't the one embarassing myself at the family dinner."

"Bullshit. You know it's true!"

"You're this mad because I'm dating her? Move on for God's sake."

Jason's words caused Dick to pounce at him. His hands were shaking with anger as he held Jason by the collar. So what if he hasn't moved on? You were the most important person in his life. He would've been happy for you if you're dating someone else. But why did it have to be Jason?

"If you had any decency and respect as a brother, you wouldn't have dated her!" He yells in his face.

"We dated because you left her. You chose your career and left her here alone in Gotham. And if that wasn't enough for you, you fucking cheated on her!" Jason found the energy to scoff and laugh at Dick's face. 

When he felt his knuckles connect to his face, he fought back by kicking him in the stomach.

"I didn't cheat, asshole!"

"You didn't? Oh, my bad. I didn't know that she was lying when she came to me crying and breaking down in front of my door." Jason's voice was laced with sarcasm. 

"We broke up because of the distance. I left because of Bludhaven and oth—" 

"Don't fucking lie to me, Dick! Don't even try to. I know the fucking truth. Own up to your mistakes."

There was a pang in Dick's heart that made him unable to shout back.

They both resume in their fight, grabbing and grappling each other until they're struggling to catch their breaths. Jason was shaking with anger while Dick was slowly faltering from the shit he's done. It all flashes inside his mind, weakening his resolve to fight back.

"Do you even know how she couldn't even eat for days when she came back here? I bet you don't. You were too busy with that alien chick of yours, huh?" Jason's fist met with Dick's face.

 "If only I wasn't a coward. If only I confessed first, she wouldn't have been with you!"

Dick spits out the blood in his mouth, glaring daggers at Jason. He runs up to him, using the chair to give him momentum to jump and land straight at his younger brother. Dick's legs swiftly pin Jason down and punched him.

He scoffs at him. Laughing with disdain.

"Is that what this is about? You're mad at me because I was the one she confessed to? Wake up, Todd! Because even if you had loved her first, I was the one that she loved and picked—not you. You only had a chance when I left the picture!"

Jason kicks Dick off him, looking angrier than before. They both lunge at each other, grunting as they use all of their strength to overpower the other. Dick gets swept over by Jason and fell down to the ground. He groans in pain and grunts when Jason uses his forearm to keep him in place by the neck.

"So what if I did? What matters is that I'm the one she's with now. You're nothing more than a remnant of her past. Unlike you, I wouldn't waste my chance of being in her future."

Dick's eyes gleamed. Despite having his airways blocked, a crooked smile slowly starts to form on his face. It wasn't his imagination. Jason sounded unsure of what he's saying. His anger slighlty faltered at his own words.

"Do you now? I started to think otherwise when I kept catching your girlfriend stealing glances at me earlier." Dick starts to laugh at his brother's angry expression. He gained more satisfaction from it when he noticed that Jason didn't look so shocked as he thought he would.

Oh.

Is that what this it is?

"Did you really think that you'd have a place in her life when she clearly hasn't moved on either?" 

Jason picks him up from the floor and pushed him against the wall. His ferocity lacked the fire it had when he entered the room. The anger in his eyes now had sadness mixed along with it. 

"Did the thought of being a placeholder ever occur in your mind? I'm sure that's what you feel every time she's with you." Dick taunts him more. He feels Jason's grip loosen with every word until his feet were back on the floor without having to tiptoe.

"Admit it. You've noticed it too." His words sounded like the devil's whispers.

No.

It's not true.

You loved Jason. Right?

"If she did love you, you wouldn't be questioning yourself like this." 

Dick's right. But he can't make him feel the satisfaction of being right. He had no right to speak like this. Not when he fucked you over. Jason raised his fist, ready to hit again.

"That's enough. Master Bruce has had enough of the rumbling." 

Alfred enters the room with a glare. He placed a medkit in Dick's bed as he walks closer to both of them. Jason's anger dispelled with Alfred's gentle touch on his shoulder. His gaze lingers on the hand that he raised then back to Dick. It was full of blood.

He clicks his tongue in frustration and let his older brother go. The way he let go was still harsh, Dick bumped his head on the wall. Alfred quickly put his hand on Dick's chest to prevent him from picking a fight again. He shakes his head in disappointment until Jason was gone.

Jason walks down the long stairs of the manor. Millions of thoughts envading the tranquility of his mind. His body ached in several spots, caused by the strong strikes Dick inflicted on him. But somehow, the pain of knowing you couldn't move on just yet—hurt him even more. 

It was no secret that you hadn't. You confessed it several times. Jason was just persistent and stubborn. He swears to you that he doesn't mind. He swears that he still loves you. He swears that he's willing to wait until you love him back. After all, you said you'd try.

This pain was only temporary. He just need to blow off some steam.

It's alright since he'll go home to where you and Roy are like he always does. He imagines you're already waiting by the door with your own medkit, prepared to nurse your reckless boyfriend before sleeping. It was a routine at this point.

Enveloped by darkness in the security of your private space, he'll sleep in a cozy bed with you beside him—giggling and talking until you're both exhausted to speak. He'll slowly doze off into his dreams and sleep content knowing you're his. 

Jason will sleep with your voice being the last thing he hears in the night.

"Goodnight..." 

At that, he deems the day to be done and perfect.

Jason's heart basked in the sweetness of your voice. 

But some nights—you'll slip up. You don't even realize it but you don't stop at saying 'Goodnight'.

"Dick." 

Jason just has to make sure he'll sleep before he hears it. He just hopes that you don't slip up tonight.

extra scene!

Roy looks at you through his peripheral. You were so lost in thought that you hadn't spoken in 25 minutes since he fetched you at the manor. The man already had a thought in mind as to why. He'd be a fool if he didn't see Dick's bike parked outside.

He sighs, knowing how rocky your relationship with Jason was. As your mutual friend, he doesn't want both of you hurting like this. You were both destroying each other in this relationship. Roy finds you both deluded in love that you don't find it toxic to use each other like this.

"Honey..."

"Yes?" 

"Have you thought about what I said?"

You hum. "Thought about what again?"

He sighs.

"About Jason." 

Oh.

The man in question pops up in your mind. His affection back at the dinner flashes in your mind, your hand subconciously clutching itself, hard. Your throat bobs as you swallow a thick air of guilt. He's a good guy. He loves you more than anyone. It was just hard to love him back.

Your head slowly turns towards Roy, he had genuine motives for both you and Jason. He doesn't condone the toxicity, but he doesn't overstep some lines as it wasn't his problem to solve. It was something that only you and Jason could fix together. The best he could do was give guidance and options.

You think about what he said.

"Honey, don't you think that both of you will be better off as strangers?" He carefully observes your face, letting you absorb what he said before talking again. 

"Go on, live your life without any ties to the family. If you keep dating Jason for that sole reason, it won't end up good for both of you."

You've thought about it. You're aware of the pain it brings. 

Roy hears you humming again. A long silence in the car before you speak again.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

He groans in exasperation, directing his attention back to the road with a grumble. All that waiting for what? You laugh at his reaction and went back to gaze at the buildings you've grown familiar with.

But who knows... 

you're just not ready to face and leave Jason. 

Not when he looks so much like Dick.

[killerplink]

This is canon ✋🏻

not to be inappropriate or anything but the idea of Dick Grayson looking up at you from between your thighs after he’s been down there for a while and breathing a sweet little, “hi baby.” like he hasn’t just lapped and sucked at your clit until you wept makes me unwell.

[mixingandmelting]

I loved your posts about how the batboys act when they’re crushing on the reader, and I was wondering if you had any hcs on any questionable habits they’d have when crushing on the reader. I’d imagine bc it’s Gotham city and it’s dangerous they’d be quite protective they’d probably know what route you take to work, when you get home, etc. or really just anything else stupid or weird they’d do if they liked you 😂

Dick: Surprise

Up from where he’s perched on the roof, he coos at seeing your eyes snap right then to left.

“Just a step closer to the street lamp…” He mumbles, his patience already running thin in anticipation and excitement. And, bingo, you’re right where he wants you.

Pressing send on his phone, he quietly jumps down and lands right behind you as you stand there, checking the text you just received.

“What does he want now?” You grumble your breath, not all realizing the head that leans over your shoulder and stays right next to your ear.

“Who wants what now?”

“Eek!”

For a minute, it’s silent. Your face beet red with a hand covering your mouth. His eyes on you in disbelief. Then:

“Pfft-“

He bursts out laughing, laughing even harder when you smack his arm and tell him to shut up.

“Dick!”

“That’s my name.” He quickly tilts his head, dodging your fist.

It can’t be helped, him teasing you like this. He’s a vigilante in love, head over heels for you to where he changed his patrol route so it would be timed when you leave work and he could follow you around with the excuse that he’s doing his job whenever he gets caught by you. Surprise attacks? He tells you it’s his way of making sure you have your guard up when it’s actually a small bonus for himself since your reactions always manage to send warmth and happiness down his spine, knowing your attention is on him.

Also how else would he be able to spend more time with you on a daily basis?

Jason: Weaponry

Same time, same place. He blankly stands in front of the glass shelf, mentally debating what to get you.

He’s been playing bodyguard, walking you from work to your place every night (sometimes following you when he’s being Red Hood but you didn’t need to know that) only to find out up to earlier today, you were walking in the city with the highest crime rate in the dead night and unarmed.

“Do you even know any self defense? Own self-defense?”

“No…? Why would I?” The urge to facepalm felt so real, questions on how you got it this far in his mind.

“Have you… ever considered…?”

“Why when I have you?”

…Fuck.

He rubs his face with hand, trying to smother out the flames blazing under his cheek. Whether it was intentional or not, he hasn’t figured out yet. What he does know is that you’re so smooth and cheeky, mostly likely unaware how the simplest things you do can affect him so much. Precious and so darn cute that it becomes another reason for him to worry about you from the desire of needing to protect you and your adorableness in case anyone else were to notice and snatch you away because of it.

The shopkeeper's bell rings and his hand holds a plastic bag for a change when he exits the store. A pepper spray, a switchblade - some beginner friendly stuff. He was on the fence with the personal alarm that’s disguised as a keychain considering he already had a tracker on you just in case. But having another one might not be so bad, right?

Tim: Social stalking

“Amateurs.” He snorts to himself, listening to his siblings’ conversation over the coms.

The whole following around the city is such an old classic. GPS tracking with the latest cutting-edge technology? Sure, it’ll help with keeping track, finding places to go and, maybe, where to eat on the next hang out. But the real way to do things is to do what he does: follow every social.

Snapchat, Facebook, hell even Pinterest and Tumblr, he follows you on, your socials a cornucopia of your likes and dislikes whether it’s current or in the past. How else would he have known to get you Elden Ring or that one hoodie you’ve been eyeing the past few days? Also, did you really think it was a coincidence that he’d bring up going to that one new bakery last week during the time you suddenly craved for baked goods?

The best part about it is how he’s still connected to you even when he’s not physically there and can’t text you. Reading and liking every post you make about your day fills his heart, saving any photo you take on to his phone with a dopey smile especially if it’s of you. You’re just a button away rather than miles, making him think about you constantly.

So he mutes everyone on his end and goes back to the problem at hand, that is figuring out how to become mutuals. After all, you don’t know that he knows and follows you. But he really wants to comment on your posts, especially on the latest featuring you in a Red Robin hoodie while fanning over it in the caption.

Duke: Light fluctuation

Small orbs of light surround the two of you as you both walk through Gotham Park on a summer night.

“Woah, look at all these fireflies! I think it’s the most I’ve seen so far!” Your eyes sparkle, smiling with childish glee and excitement.

“Y-yeah, it sure does…”

Mentally, he screams. He’s sweating bullets, begging everything in the universe that you didn’t hear his voice crack.

It became a thing now where every time he’s with you, he’d subconsciously emote through his powers. Just the other day, he had to distract you from looking down at your shadow because there were heart-shaped shadows surrounding yours. Last week was worse. He was on patrol, saw you, and started glowing like a glow-stick. A fucking glow-stick. The only saving grace for that incident was the sun coincidentally shining behind him when he waved at you though he didn’t appreciate the texts he got in the group chat asking why he was emitting light brighter than said star.

Now there’s this, his powers completely filling the park. At least there are actual fireflies blinking here and there in between but he’s pretty sure ninety-percent of those lights are from him.

seeing you haven’t suspected anything, he starts to unwind and enjoy the walk. Until his phone vibrates.

A hand over his face, he groans when it’s a text from Bruce, annoyance turned into horror at the news clip his mentor has sent him asking if he knew anything about the light-dome phenomenon that’s occurring.

“Duke, you good…? You don’t look great…”

“Just peachy.” His voice pitched, struggling to suppress his tears of despair.

Damian: Following around

He refuses to be slandered by Drake. Unlike the other who failed to trick his team members with a stupid disguise (like seriously, the best name he could make up was Mr. Sarcastic?), he was able to follow the son of Superman undetected by acting as the latter’s substitute teacher AND bus driver

Also, the older male does realize they do this all the time regardless of civilians or criminals alike, right? It’s nothing much different to that. If anything , it’s killing two birds with one stone where he’s able to observe you while being available to protect you if anything were to happen by following you around.

It can’t be helped, when, in his opinion, you’re not aware of your surroundings. It’s one thing for you to not realize that he likes you but it's another when One too many times, there would be someone getting too touchy with you for his liking leading him to have to them away.

Hence the current situation where he’s leaning against a tree and putting away the mini sketchpad with another completed sketch of you in it.

“What’s so great about that book anyways?” He grumbles as he watches you read the same book the fifth time this week at the stump of the same tree he’s on.

He startles when you suddenly snap the book close.

“Da- Robin, I know you’re in the tree.”

“Tt.”

Dammit. He got caught again. With that, he jumps down while preparing to face your annoyance. At least you’re thinking this is the first time, neither denying or confirming how many times he’s done it so far.

[azurefanfics]

Collapse

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings/tags: Established relationship, explosions, graphic description of injuries/gore, slight disassociation, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: During an Arkham breakout, you’re tasked with evacuating a building that the Riddler has planted a bomb in. What happens when it all goes wrong?

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve written for the Batfam (and the first fic I’ve written in a LONG time). It’s basically just a non proofread, tropey, long self-indulgent mess that I chucked together because I’m a fiend for angst and love to make my man suffer. I have used a lot of creative license with the medical stuff and have just ignored the concept of realistic physics so please forgive me if it's not accurate at all!

—-

The night started out as a relatively peaceful one in Gotham. Although the two of you were normally Bludhaven birds - Nightwing and Nightingale - you had decided to spend some time in the manor following a mission gone wrong. Your husband had managed to make it out unscathed but you weren’t so lucky. He had managed to wriggle free from his bonds just too late to prevent you from receiving a nasty leg injury, which had left you benched for the last few weeks. 

Dick had managed to get a couple of blows in - enough that the villain wouldn’t be a threat to the citizens of Bludhaven for a while - before the villain slipped from his grasp. But with the threat still out there, neither of you were happy with the prospect of Dick patrolling without backup whilst you were in your shared apartment injured, vulnerable and alone. The two of you had chosen to head to Gotham instead, where your beloved father-in-law welcomed you both with open arms, always happy to have more of his family under his roof.

Your husband was happy to be back in Gotham too - being in the same city made it much easier to bother his siblings. Although he visited very often, extended stays like this one were few and far between so he wanted to make the most of the opportunity to be an irritant in his sibling’s lives. Case in point - Dick was currently suspended upside down on the trapeze in the Batcave, swinging mindlessly back and forth whilst heckling his little brother below him. 

“Jason. Jaybird. Jaaaaaaaay!”

Jason, to his credit, had been doing his utmost to ignore Dick’s existence since he’d stomped into the cave a few minutes prior, muttering something about ‘needing to borrow B’s shit to upgrade his gun’. He’d taken one glance at the mischievous gleam in Dick’s eyes and rolled his eyes, focusing on dismantling his gun instead of his older brother’s valiant attempts at getting on his nerves. That didn’t deter your husband though.

“Y/nnnnn” he whined, changing tactics.

“Yes, Dickie?” you respond, bemused. You love watching your husband like this - carefree and childish, doing what he loves surrounded by people that he loves - so you’d never hesitate to humour him.

“Jason’s so mean! I’m just gonna cry myself to sleep! He’s just ignoring me, its like he doesn’t even lo-”

“Am I gonna have to shoot you to get you to actually shut up?” Jason interrupted with no real heat behind his words, trying to disguise the touch of fondness in his voice with fake anger. Dick grinned in victory.

“Oh yeah? With what gun? What are you gonna do, throw a little spring at me?” he taunts, gesturing at the gun pieces scattered on the table. Jason snorts in response.

“You think I’ve only got one? I’ve got plenty to choose from, Dickface. I’d be happy to give you a demonstration."

Just as Jason started to reach for his duffel bag, the brothers’ bickering was interrupted by an alert from Oracle. The message was simple and to the point: ‘Arkham break out. All hands on deck.’

Jason cursed and turned to gather up his gear, meanwhile your husband scrambled to get down and suit up. Whilst you longed to do the same, Alfred still hadn’t cleared you to be back in the field as your leg wasn’t fully healed yet. Instead, you sighed and headed towards the Batcomputer, intending to join Alfred there and lend a hand. As your husband sped by, you quickly reached out to him.

“Be careful out there, love. Stay safe.” 

“Always am, honey!” he responded with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.” he said, more sincere this time. And with one last peck on the lips, he headed towards the locker room to suit up and join the fray.

You sit down at the secondary Batcomputer - a contingency for this exact situation - and place your comms in your in, switching it on. You’re greeted by Oracle’s familiar voice, sounding harried.

“Gale you’re online, good. There’s 3 major players out tonight - we’ve got the Joker in Amusement Mile, Scarecrow in the Bowery and the Riddler down in the Kubrick District. B and Robin ran into the Joker on patrol so they’ve engaged, but B has requested extraction for R. It's too dangerous for him. Scarecrow has released his toxin in a dangerous location - high population density, lots of weapons in the area, minimal gas masks available. Spoiler and Red Hood are en route. I’ve got N and Red Robin coming in from opposite ends of the city to get to the Riddler as well.”

“Ok. I assume Agent A is supporting B?” you asked. As you turned to see him nod, you spotted a lithe figure in black, followed by a bleary-eyed, sleep-ruffled Duke. The poor guy always seemed to get his sleep interrupted, especially when there was an all-hands call. “Signal and Black Bat are incoming. Black Bat can support B and Signal can head to the Bowery, but we need more hands there.”

“Agreed. Black Bat can lighten the pressure on B and allow Robin to slip away. Can you get him to the Bowery?”

“Yes. Can you get GCPD support as well? I can coordinate over there so you can focus on the Riddler.”

“On it.” Oracle responded.

For the next half hour you focused in on your job: getting Damian out of the clown’s line of fire, tracking down Scarecrow and sending Duke and Jason over to deal with him, coordinating Damian, Steph and the GCPD to get civilians to safety and passing on information to minimise the impact of the fear gas as much as you could. Everything was going well, with Jason and Duke in active combat with Scarecrow and Steph and Damian taking over coordination of the GCPD on the ground. It seemed like there wasn’t much left for you to do. 

You had just switched over to open comms, ready to see if anyone else needed your support, when you heard a curse from Oracle. 

“What happened?” you asked with urgency. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It seems like the Riddler’s been out for longer than we thought. He’s got bombs planted across the city.”

“Shit. They planned this.” you whisper, realisation sinking in. “How many are there?”

“4 - in Burnley, Coventry, the Fashion District and Chinatown.” Oracle lets out a huff of annoyance as she continues. “I’ve got the general areas down but there’s some kind of interference in the areas so I can’t pinpoint the locations. I need eyes on the ground.”

“The GCPD?”

“They’re stretched too thin. They won’t be able to cover all 4 locations and assist in the Bowery.”

You hummed in consideration. Although things were going relatively smoothly in the Bowery, that was heavily reliant on the manpower lent by the GCPD. Damian and Steph were great vigilantes, but they couldn’t be everywhere at once. While there were other officers in the city, a majority of the forces had been directed towards the Bowery, and those that weren’t were mostly around the GCPD headquarters.

“Tell them to focus on downtown. I’ll pull a couple officers from the Bowery and send them over to Burnley. As for Coventry, I’ll handle it.” you said, sending a quick message to Steph before you stood up to get changed.

“Miss Y/N!” Alfred said sharply in protest. “What about your leg?”

“Don’t worry Alfie.” You shot your pseudo grandfather figure a comforting smile. “I might not be ready for combat yet, but there won’t be any of that. People’s lives are at stake. I can still walk and run, I’ll be fine.” You appreciated his concern but you couldn’t stand idly by while civilians were in danger - that was why you became a vigilante in the first place. You were determined to go out there. Alfred must’ve seen it too, as he met your eyes and simply sighed.

“Be careful, Miss Y/N.” 

“Always am, Alfie!” you respond, echoing your husband’s earlier words before heading to suit up. 

Once you got to Coventry, it was relatively easy to locate the bomb. Although the interference was frustrating for Oracle, it acted almost a honing beacon for you, leading you straight there. By the time you had found the right building, your comms were useless, unable to get signal from the outside world.

The bomb was located in the basement of a large apartment complex, clearly having been placed there to maximise the number of civilian lives at risk. Although you would’ve preferred to deal with it right away, you knew your priority had to be evacuating and getting everyone in the building to safety. Without Oracle in your ear to warn you, you had no way of knowing when the building was about to come down and you couldn’t put lives at risk like that.

Instead, you ran back up to the building lobby and yanked down the nearest fire alarm you could find. A shrill piercing noise filled your ears and, although the sound was headache-inducing, you breathed a sigh of relief - people would start evacuating.

You watched as residents began to trickle out - slower than you would have liked, but this was Gotham so it was probably the third fire alarm they’d had that week. Even so, when they spotted you in the lobby, they began to move with more urgency. Although you were a Bludhaven vigilante, you started out in Gotham and still helped out there often enough that your costume and status as a Bat was well-known. If a Bat was here, it was serious.

You began directing them further away from the building, making sure that they were safely outside of any potential blast radius. You asked a couple of them to try and get in touch with the GCPD as soon as they were out of range of the interference. Although they wouldn’t be able to provide any assistance, they would at least be able to let Babs know that the evacuation was underway.

Eventually the flow of people slowed to a stop, but you knew your job was far from over. There was no telling how many people were still in the building, unwilling or unable to respond to the alarm. You had to go door to door to make sure that every last person was out.

Your suspicions were quickly proven to be correct as you wound your way up the building, coming across a number of individuals and families who were shocked to see you. Whether it was shock at the fire alarm being real or shock at having a Bat on their doorstep, you weren’t sure. Either way, they all quickly understood the gravity of the situation and made their way out of the building as fast as they could. 

Since the fire alarm had automatically deactivated the elevator, there were a couple of residents with mobility issues whom you had to help get down the stairs as well. Usually this would be a simple task for any Bat-trained vigilante, but the combination of the extra weight and the stairs caused your leg to scream in protest. Even so, you were able to deliver them to a safe area outside where other residents were able to assist them, before turning back to continue the evacuation.

Eventually you made it to the top floor, escorting the last family struggling with their young children out with a request that they inform the GCPD that the building was clear. However, even having checked the building meticulously to make sure that every last person was out, you decided to do one last sweep of the building just in case. While it might not have been necessary, you would never forgive yourself if you left anyone behind. 

Your leg was beginning to bother you more than you would have liked, so you ended up limping more than running through the hallways, shouting to alert any possible stragglers. Nevertheless, you were still hopeful that you could get the final sweep done quickly. Perhaps when you were done, you could go out and check on the civilians, try to get in touch with Oracle, and then head back in to finally disarm the bomb.

While you were limping your way down the hallway, making your way out as your check was complete, you were abruptly overcome with a sense of dread. Something was wrong. Something was-

A deafening, thunderous crash echoed out as vibrations shook through the entire building, sending you reeling. The whole world appeared to shake around you as your ears began to ring. Panic seized your chest as you lost your orientation, being thrown around like nothing more than a ragdoll. You were rendered completely powerless as the forces pushed through your body, tossing you in the air before gravity brought you right back down again. 

Your body hit the cold concrete for a split second, before you felt the floor crumble beneath you. You watched as the ceiling above you began to cave in as well, raining down thick chunks of concrete and debris all around you.

Instinctually you reached out, scrabbling to find purchase anywhere as you hurtled through the air. Your fingers met cold metal and you quickly wrapped your fingers around it, closing your eyes and praying that it would be enough. You cried out as your arm was wrenched out of its socket, pain lacing through your body. But even still, you endured, desperately holding on to the piece of rebar that had become your salvation.

Unfortunately, your relief was short-lived. You shifted, attempting to pull yourself up to a more stable position, when a crack rang out above you. With a low groan and screech of metal scraping metal, the piece of concrete above you gave way, taking the piece of rebar with it. Within the blink of an eye, you found yourself falling once again. Your head collided with something mid-air, causing you to see stars as blood trickled down your temple. You almost wished it hit you harder so you would at least be unconscious for what was to come, but the universe was rarely so merciful.

Instead you felt it moment by agonising moment as something pierced through your abdomen, ripping through muscle and sinew, uncaring of the organs in its path as it tore through your body. For a second, there was nothing but your own heartbeat ringing in your ears as you reeled from the impact. You just hung there for a moment, held up by the piece of metal impaled through you, dimly aware of the thick, sticky liquid beginning to drip onto the floor. 

You released a shaky exhale as reality began to sink in, and that’s when it hit you. A searing, white-hot pain erupted from your stomach as a scream tore from your throat. Fire crawled up every nerve ending in your body, eating you alive from the inside out. You writhed in agony, only worsening your injury, sobbing as your ears filled with static and black dots invaded your vision.

Eventually, you managed to battle back the black from your vision as you forced yourself to recall your training from Bruce - training you and your husband had gone over a thousand times. First - remain calm. You could feel your chest heaving as you drew in panting breaths, shaking hands pressed to your abdomen. Calm. You had to remain calm. 

You closed your eyes and thought of your husband holding you tight, gently rocking you back and forth as he softly whispered in your ear, remaining steadfast in his support even on the worst nights of your life. You thought of your father-in-law Bruce, with his blunt words but oh-so-comforting hugs. Of Alfred and his cookies. Of Babs and her knowing smiles. Of Cass and her kind eyes. Of Jason and Tim and Steph and Duke and Damian - of every single member of the crazy vigilante family that had welcomed you and loved you as one of their own.

Unbidden, a tear slipped down your face. Unable to summon the strength to lift your hand and wipe it, you felt it drip down off your jaw, trailing across your body and onto the cold concrete below. You watched it mingle with the blood pooled below you with a detached sense of calm. On the bright side, at least your breathing was under control.

Oh. That’s right. Remaining calm - that was the first step. What was it that was next?

Observation - that was it. You had to take stock of the situation around you. Although you felt seconds away from floating away, from checking out of your brain completely and just leaving your body to deal with the pain, you wrestled back control of your limbs and forced yourself to focus on the next step. What could you see around you?

Looking at your surroundings, you could tell that you were largely encompassed by rubble on all sides. The space you were in was fairly big - about the size of a room in the manor - but was largely shrouded in darkness, making the details hard to see. However, cracks and gaps in the rubble above you did allow small streams of light to flow in, thankfully saving you from being in pitch darkness. 

For a second, you were tempted to shout - to scream as loudly as your aching vocal chords would allow. Gaps meant sound could escape, that someone could hear you. But then you realised, nobody knew you were in here. Nobody was looking for you, searching to hear a voice calling out. Nobody was stupid enough to enter an empty, collapsing building on the off chance someone hadn’t got out. You were on your own. You were better off saving what little energy you had left to deal with the situation you were in. 

Speaking of the ‘situation’, the first thing you saw when you looked down was the object that had punched straight through your body - it was a piece of rebar. How ironic. What you thought would be your saving grace had turned out to be your doom. Still, in a way you were lucky. The piece of rebar had arrested some of the momentum of falling, simply causing you to sink down further on the blood-slicked steel rather than become a smear on the floor. That hadn’t saved you from the falling debris though, as you could see that you were pinned down by a chunk of concrete over your left leg.

Looking at the metal again, you could tell that it wasn’t pointed straight up from the ground, pointing at a 50 or 60 degree angle instead. Rather than a simple puncture wound, the piece of steel had created a messy tear, leaving a gaping hole in your stomach. Ah. So that’s why you were bleeding so much.

Your mind started reeling as you began to comprehend the full extent of the situation you were in. You gave yourself a second to panic - to despair as you recognised how low your odds of survival were, before forcing yourself to set your emotions aside and think logically. How could you even begin to get out of this? That was the next thing you needed to do: make a plan.

Since nobody knew to look for you, you had to make yourself visible to someone who could help you. You had to get out of there. 

The first thing you had to do was pull yourself off the piece of metal that was skewered through you. With the angle of the steel leaving no clean entry or exit wound, there was no point in keeping the object in the wound anyway. You were going to bleed out either way, especially with no guarantee of help on the way. To be honest, at the rate you were losing blood, you weren’t sure if you were even going to make it that far, but you didn’t allow yourself to think about that. You could only allow yourself to focus on the next step, the task right in front of you.

What you needed to focus on was freeing your leg from the piece of concrete that was pinning you down, trapping you in place. You gave the chunk a rough kick with your good leg, causing sparks of pain to shoot from your leg and your stomach in unison. Bile rose up in your throat as stars danced in your vision. 

You steeled yourself for what was to come. You needed to do this, it was the only way out. You closed your eyes tightly and kicked out again, putting as much power behind it as you could muster. This time when the kick connected, you felt the chunk shift, allowing you to pull your leg free despite the excruciating feeling of the rebar being driven further into your body. You breathed and breathed and breathed, praying for the pain to pass. 

Eventually, you had recovered enough to realise that you could barely feel your leg at all. That should have been alarming, but honestly it was a welcome change since fiery hot pain was emanating from every other part of your body. Your head felt heavy and dizziness set in as you shifted in an attempt to get a better look at it. It was purpling and swollen, bleeding from a deep gash, with numerous smaller cuts littered across it. At your ankle there was a large lump, and where the skin had split you could see a hint of silvery white underneath. Your whole leg looked like a mess, and honestly you doubted that you would be able to stand on it at all. 

Even still, you gritted your teeth and forced it to bear your weight for even just a second. It was just enough for you to wrap your hands around the sticky, crimson-dyed steel and haul yourself forwards, pulling yourself off the piece of metal that had pierced through you. You stood upright for just an instant before you felt yourself listing, tipping forward to meet the ground. Black filled your vision as you crumpled into a heap, concrete and dust pressed against your face as your blood dripped between the fingers of your hand that was tightly pressed against your abdomen. 

You didn’t know how long it had been - long enough for blood to have begun pooling on the floor - before your vision returned and you finally found the strength to lift your head. 

Amongst the darkness, you were able to see a bright spot of light in front of you - a way out! It wasn’t far - maybe about 10 metres - but in your state it may as well have been 10 miles. You attempted to push yourself up onto your feet, but your leg gave way beneath you almost instantly. You had no hope of getting out of there like that. Finding yourself on the floor once again, you resigned yourself to crawling over instead. 

You moved slowly on your stomach, half crawling, half dragging yourself across the concrete, nails of the hand on your good arm scraping across the floor with a primal desperation to drive yourself forwards. Your body was singing in agony as you felt each movement scrape dust and debris into the open wound of your stomach and grind your arm bone against its empty socket. Despite the pain tormenting your body, you were still able to continue on, moving inch by torturous inch, ever closer to your escape.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, you were able to reach the gap in the rubble. You had just started to pull yourself through when the ringing in your skull got more insistent, black invading the edges of your vision. Despite your best efforts to push on, you found that your body refused to listen, refused to move another inch. It had finally become all too much and your body had begun to shut down, just close enough to salvation for the adrenaline to wear off. 

You prayed that your efforts would be enough as you finally surrendered to the darkness.

—-

Dick was frustrated. 

It was a mistake - a calculated risk that hadn’t worked out in their favour, that had allowed the Riddler to slip out of their grasp just long enough to detonate the bombs he had planted. Although they had got him back under their custody quickly, it was just a moment too late, so he and Tim were left waiting with bated breath to hear what their mistake had cost Gotham. Last they’d heard, the bombs had been located and evacuation efforts were underway. That had been a while ago, so they were cautiously optimistic, but you never know in Gotham.

“N. RR. We’ve heard back from the GCPD about the extent of the damage”. Babs’ voice rung out through their comms, putting them out of their misery. “3 of the 4 bombs were successfully disarmed. The 4th was located in an apartment complex that was confirmed to be clear of civilians.”

While it was upsetting that so many people lost their homes because of him, it was great to hear that the evacuation was complete. Dick wanted so badly to breathe a sigh of relief at the news, but something in the way she spoke made him hesitate. It was cold and toneless, focused on delivering facts only. It was the voice she used when she was forced to compartmentalise.

“O?” he asked, prompting her to go on.

“Nightingale was the one evacuating the building” she started, as distress began to leak into her voice. “We don’t know if she was clear of the explosion. She hasn’t checked in yet. There was-”

Dick stopped listening at this point, sucking in a sharp breath to try and clear the buzzing in his ears, to try and focus on anything but the dread that filled his body from head to toe. Why were you even there? You should have been resting in the manor with Alfred instead of bearing the consequences of his own stupidity. His mind spiralled with worst case scenarios and what ifs, as a pit settled in his stomach. 

No! Catastrophising wouldn’t help the situation. You were a vigilante, you were a Bat - you’d faced worse odds than this before. He had to pull himself together and focus on the next step in front of him.

He took a restrained Riddler and shoved him towards Red Robin, trusting his little brother to deal with the villain while he took quick strides towards his motorcycle. He had to get to the bomb site. If he were lucky, you’d greet him with a smile and he could help lighten your load in dealing with the aftermath. If not, then he had to find you. 

When he finally pulled up to the site, having broken multiple traffic laws to get there as soon as possible, he began searching the crowd for you. He looked around desperately for the flash of blue of your costume, but couldn’t spot it in the packed crowd. Damn the whole family for prioritising stealth. He was about to continue weaving his way through the crowd when he was stopped by a young woman surrounded by a gaggle of children. It was times like this that he regretted his reputation as the friendly, approachable Bat, but he knew that you’d want him to stop and help. 

He did his best to hide his desperation to get back to his search and plastered on a fake smile, greeting the woman.

“How can I help?”

“Nightwing!” the woman responded. “I think Nightingale might still be in the building! She helped us all get out but I haven’t seen her since and I think she might have headed back inside. I wanted to tell someone but there was no one to talk to and I left my phone inside but now you’re here and you can find her. Thank god!” the woman started rambling, panic lacing her voice.

Nightwing, for his part, had closed his eyes, fighting to regulate his breathing. There it was. The worst case scenario he had been steadfastly ignoring, all spelled out in front of him. Terror filled his body, sunk into his bones and left his knees weak. He wished he didn’t have to be strong right now. He wished he could fall apart like he so desperately wanted to, that you would be there to hold him close and help him pick up the pieces like you always did. 

But he couldn’t afford to do that, not with your life on the line. Instead, he offers the woman a curt nod of thanks - too preoccupied to be more polite - before spinning on his heel and breaking into a run in the direction of the destroyed building. His eyes scanned the wreckage from afar, looking for any sign of you. He braced himself for the worst, but focused on the flicker of hope in his chest that was the only thing still driving him onwards in that moment. Either way, he promised himself that he would bring you home. 

With no sign of you visible as he came to a stop in front of the pile of rubble, he began wading in to search more thoroughly, careful not to shift the piles of rubble too much just in case. 

Eventually, after what felt like hours (but was probably more like a couple of minutes) of being alone with nothing but piles of concrete and his own anxious thoughts, he saw it. Peeking out through a gap in the rubble, there was a gloved hand with a stripe of blue running up the fingers. An homage to one of his worst looks, you had joked when you first revealed your new suit to him. Although he had acted offended at the time, he was now astonishingly grateful for the pop of colour allowing you to be visible amongst the wreckage.

He raced over and dropped down to his knees in front of you, forcing himself to compartmentalise his own anguish and assess the situation. You were laid out on your front, arm outstretched into the light while your body remained bathed in darkness from the rubble. From where he stood, he couldn’t see much but he did manage to make out enough to tell that you were breathing. Laboured, shallow breathing, but breathing nonetheless. 

The relief was dizzying. His eyes drank in your beautiful features, thankful beyond measure to just be seeing you once again. Although some of your face was covered by your domino, he could see that it was twisted in pain. Right. He had to focus on the task at hand. 

His first priority was to get you out of there. Despite beginning to crawl through the gap in the rubble, almost all of your body was still under concrete. If anything shifted or gave way above you then you would be in serious danger. Luckily, it seemed like there was enough space to pull you through without any trouble. Dick managed to hook his hands underneath your armpits and began pulling you out. 

To his horror, the drag of your body left behind a wet, red smear on the ground. As you were pulled further into the light, the true extent of your injuries became clear. He paled as he observed the mess of your abdomen, cursing as he flipped you over to reveal the exit wound. He was able to spot a number of other injuries as well - a gash on the leg with signs of a crush injury, as well as a dislocated shoulder that his pulling had probably aggravated - but the most pressing issue was the gaping hole in your abdomen.

He began to apply pressure on the wound, desperate to keep as much of your precious lifeblood inside your body as he possibly could, while propping your legs up on a piece of concrete to elevate them. He tried desperately to control the jackrabbit of his heart as he reached his trembling fingers into his pouch, with one hand still applying pressure on the wound. 

He quickly found the supplies he needed and pulled out his emergency trauma dressings, ripping the packet open with his teeth before pressing them to your abdomen. He applied heavy pressure, only distantly registering concern that you were completely unresponsive, despite the fact that it must’ve been extremely painful for you. 

After a few minutes of applying pressure and more dressings, he was finally able to get the bleeding under control enough to be able to bring out the trauma compression bandages. He wrapped them around you briskly, pulling them tight to ensure that they were applying enough pressure on the injury. 

With your wound finally somewhat stabilised, he was able to pull back and assess your other injuries. Something felt off to him as he mentally triaged your injuries. Your shoulder and leg needed treatment, but that could wait until you were back in the Batcave. He mentally winced in sympathy, remembering how you were sick of being benched and couldn’t wait to get back in the field - that certainly wouldn’t be happening any time soon after this.

It was only then as his eyes raked over your body methodically, cataloguing every detail in his mind, that he realised what was wrong. Your chest was no longer rising and falling. His blood ran cold as he rushed to press two fingers to your neck. Nothing. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening! He cursed his own stupidity and lack of observation - how long had you been like this? What if he was too late? Why was he always too late….

In that moment, he felt like he was moving through molasses, each second stretching out to an agonising eternity as he struggled to move, to act. He crashed to his knees at your side, placing the heel of his clasped hands at your breastbone and pressing down firmly with his body weight. He had to get your heart pumping, had to do something to resuscitate you. Desperation filled his body - he was so close to getting you out of there. So close to wrapping you up in his arms and whisking you back to the manor. But instead here he was on a cold Gotham night, hands covered in your blood as he prayed to whatever deities that would listen for the chance to see your beautiful eyes open once again. 

As he continued on with his chest compressions at a steady pace, he felt the sickening crack of something giving way beneath him. Fuck. He had never hated himself more than in that moment. This was all his fault. He wished beyond anything that he could swap places with you right now - that he could take all of your pain and suffering on himself and save you from it. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do anything. And now he can’t even do the one thing he needed to do to keep you alive without hurting you! 

He pushed down the wave of nausea that threatened to swallow him whole and instead tilted your head back, pinched your nose and blew firmly into your mouth. He had to focus and keep going. He can’t allow himself to fail. He won’t. It will destroy him utterly if he does.

“-t’ll be ok. I’m on my way. I’m 3 minutes out. You’re doing so well. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’ll be ok. I’m on my way. I’m 2 minutes-” 

Just as he was beginning to falter, as doubt began to creep into his mind, he tuned in to a voice over his comms, low, steady and soothing. He didn’t know how long he’d been blocking out the voices for, but from the rasp of the voice it was clear that Batman had been repeating the same words for a while now, trying his best to provide meagre comfort as his son's life fell apart on the other end of the line. 

Clearly, whatever had been blocking Oracle’s signal earlier had been destroyed in the blast, and she had been providing updates to the other Bats, even as Nightwing failed to respond to her words. The idea of her being witness to all of his failures tonight - failures that could cost you your life - made bile rise up in his throat. Maybe if he had actually been listening, he could have got to you sooner. 

He shook his head and refocused on his chest compressions, even as his strength faltered. He couldn’t afford to be distracted or tired. He had to hold out a little bit longer - just 2 minutes, Batman had said. He could do that. With your life on the line, he would do it a thousand times over if he had to.

Even still, when the lights of the Batmobile pulled up beside him, he almost broke down in relief. Holding back a sob, he called out for Batman and when the black cloaked figure made it to your side, he finally allowed himself to collapse and shatter completely. His dad was here. His dad would save the day.

—-

You rose to awareness slowly, reaching through the fuzzy haze to pull yourself to consciousness. The first thing you registered was a faint monotonous beep followed by the woosh of pumping air. Feeling the weight of an oxygen mask on your face, you heaved in a deep breath - what felt like the first one you’d been able to take since the explosion - and finally eased your eyes open. 

You stared up at cold, damp rock which stretched far above your head. You were in the Batcave then - in the medical area, presumably. Glancing down, you saw the extent of it all.

Tubes came out of your hands, your arms, your thighs, seemingly everywhere. Down on your leg you saw a row of neat stitches, caged in by metal pins which snaked around your entire lower leg. You were covered in more bandages than you thought were possible - stark white criss-crossed across your entire centre and yet more white was wrapped around your arm, while a sling held your shoulder securely in place. You reached your good arm up to feel the stitches on the side of your head, wincing as they felt tender under your touch.

At the first sign of movement, Dick bolted upright from where he was sat, hunched over at your bedside. He drank in your presence greedily, as if trying to convince himself that you were real, and not simply a cruel trick of his mind. 

“You’re awake! How are you feeling, love?”

You paused to take stock of your body for a moment. By all means, you felt better than you had any right to feel. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing like the chorus of agony that you expected to be met with. It was probably because Bruce kept the Batcave stocked with the good stuff - that would explain the faint floaty feeling that you couldn’t shake off. 

You unstuck your tongue from the roof of your mouth, wetting your lips before responding.

“Feelin’ great! How’re you doin’ tho?” You asked, offering him a smile as best you could behind the oxygen mask. Although your words slurred, the sentiment behind them was sincere.

Dick looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days - perhaps he hadn’t. Even when he knew he would be in the way, he found it difficult to tear himself from your bedside from the moment you had got back to the Batcave, he couldn’t bear it. Thank god for the Batcave being just as stocked as Gotham General - there would be no way to ensure your identity was safe in the hospital so he was thankful you could be treated at home. That also had the added bonus of him being able to stay by your side the whole time, rather than being constrained to visiting hours. However, that naturally meant that he hadn’t got much sleep over the last few days, aside from a couple naps in the chair he was currently sat in.

Instead, he watched on anxiously as Alfred, Leslie and Bruce had worked tirelessly to save you. They had burned through their entire stock of blood in the Batcave trying to get your heart pumping again, and even then it wasn’t enough. Luckily, Dick was a compatible blood type and, desperate to help in some way, he had jumped at the opportunity to give up his blood for you.

Whilst the two of you were hooked up together through an iv, the eldest three continued their work to get your stabilised. At one point, you had even needed intubation as your lungs failed you. The three of them worked hard to examine and stitch and mend until they were finally able to pull you back together in one piece. 

Dick let out a shaky exhale as he finally received irrefutable proof that you were alive, that you were going to recover. 

The tension that had him wound up like a spring the last few days, had him replaying every last moment in his head, had finally released and he collapsed back into his chair like a puppet with its strings cut. Your blood had haunted him these past few days. It clung to his skin even as he scrubbed himself clean over and over. But finally, seeing you whole and on the road to recovery, he felt his sins wash away in the wake of your smile

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” he said quickly, before wincing at how short he was being with you. He never wanted to take his turmoil out on you. “Careful-”

At his tone, you began to ease yourself upright in bed to get a better look at him, suppressing a gasp of pain as your abdomen tugged in protest.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your eyes searching his for any hint of how he’s feeling.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” he started, a note of hysteria creeping into his tone as he fought without success to reign his emotions back in. “You’re here, stuck in a hospital bed and it’s all my fault! You’ve been out for days - we weren’t sure if you would ever wake up. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bury another loved one - couldn’t bury you. I just- I almost lost you, and it’s all because of me! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he sobbed.

“Shh Dickie, love, it’s ok. I’m alive.” you cooed comfortingly. “Why on earth would you think that it’s your fault?”

“I was in charge of dealing with the Riddler - it was my responsibility. I was the one who took the risk that let him escape and detonate the bombs. And when I came to find you, I was almost too late - your heart stopped and you could’ve died all because of me. I screwed up, and you got hurt because of it.” he muttered miserably. 

Instead of responding, you shifted over to the side and patted the space next to you, knowing that your husband needed more than just words to snap out of his spiral.

“C’mere.” You invited your husband up on the bed, and watched as yearning and concern warred over his features. Your husband had always been a tactile person, and you knew that it was exactly what he was in desperate need of in that moment.

“I can’t! You’re hurt! I don’t want-”

“It’ll hurt me more if I can’t hold you right now. Just get over here.” You cut him off, knowing that it was something he so desperately wanted and needed, despite his protests. 

At your insistence he sighed, recognising a losing battle when he saw it, and carefully clambered up onto the bed. You wasted no time in wrapping your arm around him cautiously, making sure that none of the tubes or wires were tugged. You wished you could lay his head on your chest, but with your other arm in the way you simply settled for making sure that the pulse point at your wrist was free for him if he needed reassurance. You did your best to one-handedly wipe his tears as he sobbed into you.

“Shhh, listen to me for a second, ok honey?

The Riddler did this to me, not you. He is responsible for his own actions and the consequences of them. You don’t need to martyr yourself - and I know you were doing that - over this. Let the blame sit with the person who is responsible, no-one else. You did your best with the information available to you. 

More importantly, you saved my life. You came when no-one else knew to. You looked after me and got me back here and kept me alive. That is worth so much more than whatever mistake you blame yourself for. None of us blame you for that mistake, but I am so incredibly thankful for everything that you’ve done to save me. I just need you to know that.” 

You desperately hoped that he would take your words to heart - that he would stop taking on the weight of the world on his own two shoulders. At his wet sniffle you continued:

“The last few days must’ve been so hard for you, right? Thank you for saving me, for pushing through even though it must’ve been horrible for you. You don’t have to be strong anymore, you can let it all out. I’m here.” 

You knew your husband’s tendency to set aside his emotional needs in the face of any mission or duty, and you needed him to know that it was ok to fall apart - that you would be there to catch him. Something anxious in your chest loosened just a fraction when you felt him lean into your shoulder, tears dampening your neck as shudders wracked his body. The thought of him bearing that burden all on his own for so long made your heart ache. You wished you could wrap yourself around him and rock him back and forth, but you settled on nuzzling your head into his and whispering soft reassurances whenever you could.

Dick, for his part, was clinging onto you like you were his lifeline. Even when facing the storm of his emotions, you were his anchor - the lighthouse to guide him home. He was so immensely grateful that you were here, whole and in one piece. But he was also so, so tired - filled with a bone-deep weariness from trying desperately to hold himself together for so long, for his family’s sake, your sake and his own sake. Finally given the chance for catharsis, he felt himself fully fall apart under your watchful protection.

As his tears slowed to a stop, he was filled with a rush of affection and gratefulness. He would never stop being in awe of you. Even though you were the one in the hospital bed, the one with your life clinging to your lips just days before, still hopped up on all manner of painkillers, you still found the strength to be there for him and comfort him. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you but he was immeasurably thankful to have you in his life.

He shifted to wrap his own arms around you - careful not to disturb your injuries - and kissed the side of your head, whispering into your ear. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much for being alive. Thank you for always being there for me and looking after me, even though you must be hurting as well. I love you so so much.”

“I love you too.” you replied, heart feeling so full that it could burst, before snuggling down deeper into his arms.

Even as your in-laws trickled into the room, bringing with them well-wishes, laughter and joy, Dick simply stayed by your side, holding you close and silently vowing that he would always be there to look after you and protect you from ever being hurt like this again.